I occasionally field a question that goes something like this: “What is your greatest fear/disappointment/concern as a missionary?” This query might come at a missions conference Q & A session, or in a one-on-one interview with a church, or perhaps as part of a written questionnaire. For years, I found it very difficult to answer. By God’s grace, we enjoy being missionaries. We have a wonderful network of supporters who love and care for us. Our families are fully behind us. We love the ministry God has given to us. Of course, we experience setbacks and disappointments. People are sometimes slow to respond to God’s truth. Ministry hopes are dashed from time to time. Our own flesh is relentless in its opposition to God’s purposes, and we grieve over the sin that remains in us and our feeble love for our dear Redeemer. But, as difficult and as painful as these experiences often are, we understand that they are a “normal” part of life and ministry in a fallen world. So, it was difficult to articulate an answer to the question “What is your greatest disappointment or concern?” My struggles seemed rather “routine”—until three or four years ago!

I remember when something shifted noticeably, even dramatically, in my heart. Something began to arrest me, and then to shake me. Over a period of a few months, I received notice after notice that certain praying saints from our supporting churches had gone home to be with the Lord. I know, from Psalm 115:16, that these deaths are precious in the Lord’s sight, as He receives these dear ones into His presence. I know that, for each one of them, it is “very much better” (Philippians 1:23, NASB) to be with Him. But the cumulative effect of one after another left me gutted and weak. These people knew how to pray, and they truly prayed. I found myself crying out, “Who will take their place?”

Immediately prior to His ascension, Jesus promised His disciples that the arrival of the Holy Spirit would result in power to be His witnesses to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). Not better strategy, discipline, organization, training, or even knowledge. Power. All the other things are good and even necessary, and we ought to pursue them as best as we can. But the power comes from one Person alone—the Holy Spirit. I find it instructive and convicting to continue reading in Acts 1. Jesus gave that promise in Acts 1:8, and then He went to heaven. Verses 12–14 record that His followers returned to Jerusalem and “with one mind were continually devoting themselves to prayer” (Acts 1:14, NASB). God doesn’t reveal here specifically what they prayed, but we must not miss that the extraordinary displays of power in the first few chapters of Acts came to a community continually devoted to prayer (1:14, 2:42). Could that phrase truly describe our congregations?

From where I am writing these words in my study at home, I can glance to my left and see at eye level, four or five feet away, a shelf filled with biographies: Judson, Lloyd-Jones, M’Cheyne, Muller, Paton, Spurgeon, Hudson Taylor, Wesley, Whitefield, and others. We often refer to people such as these as “giants” in Christian history. Yes, without a doubt. But there are other giants. The Great Commission will not be fulfilled primarily from a classroom, or from a strategy meeting, or even from a conference with passionate calls to give ourselves to the service of Christ. God still uses all those tools and others like them, and we should use them as well. But how we need to be convinced that God’s purposes move forward in response to secret, earnest pleadings in the prayer closet. When we all gather in His presence one day, perhaps God will allow us to meet many other “giants” of the faith, those whose names we never heard on earth but who organized their entire lives around fervent praying. What a joy that would be for the glory of Christ!

I now have a ready answer to the question that used to be difficult for me: The praying generation is dying. Warriors are going home to glory. They have fought on their knees, and the victories God granted in answer to their tireless intercession will be largely unknown until that Great Day. Who will take their place?