Aggie Hurst, Aggie: The Inspiring Story of A Girl Without A Country

A Touching True-Life Heart Warming Missionary Story:

A long but excellent read.

David and Svea Flood

In 1921, a missionary couple named David and Svea Flood went with their two-year-old son David, from Sweden to the heart of Africa—to what was then called the Belgian Congo. They met up with another young Scandinavian couple, the Ericksons, and the four of them sought God for direction. In those days of much tenderness and devotion and sacrifice, they felt led of the Lord to go out from the main mission station and take the gospel to a remote area.

This was a huge step of faith. At the remote village of N’dolera they were rebuffed by the chief, who would not let them enter his village for fear of alienating the local gods. The two couples opted to go half a mile up the slope and build their own mud huts.

They prayed for a spiritual breakthrough, but there was none. Their only contact with the villagers was a young boy, who was allowed to sell them chickens and eggs twice a week. Svea Flood — a tiny woman missionary only four feet, eight inches tall, decided that if this was the only African she could talk to, she would try to lead the boy to Jesus. And in fact, after many weeks of loving and witnessing to him, he trusted Christ as his Savior.

But there were no other encouragements. Meanwhile, malaria continued to strike one member of the little band after another. In time the Ericksons decided they had had enough suffering and left to return to the central mission station. David and Svea Flood remained near N’dolera to go on alone.

Then, of all things, Svea found herself pregnant in the middle of the primitive wilderness. When the time came for her to give birth (1923), the village chief softened enough to allow a midwife to help her. A little girl was born, whom they named Aina (A-ee-nah).

The delivery, however, was exhausting, and Svea Flood was already weak from bouts of malaria. The birth process was a heavy blow to her stamina. After seventeen desperate days of prayer and struggle, she died.

Inside David Flood, something snapped in that moment. His heart full of bitterness, he dug a crude grave, buried his twenty-seven-year-old wife and took his children back down the mountain to the mission station. Giving his newborn daughter to the Ericksons, he said, “I’m going back to Sweden. I’ve lost my wife, and I can’t take care of this baby. God has ruined my life.” With two year old David, he headed for the coast, rejecting not only his calling, but God himself.

Within eight months both the Ericksons were stricken with a mysterious illness (some believe they were poisoned by a local chief who hated the missionaries) and died within days of each other. The nine month old baby Aina was given to an American missionary couple named Berg, who adjusted her Swedish name to “Aggie” and eventually brought her back to the United States at age three.

The Bergs loved little Aggie but were afraid that if they tried to return to Africa, some legal obstacle might separate her from them since they had at that time, been unable to legally adopt her. So they decided to stay in the United States and switch from missionary work to pastoral ministry. And that is how Aggie grew up in South Dakota. As a young woman, she attended North Central Bible college in Minneapolis. There she met and married a young preacher named Dewey Hurst.

Years passed. The Hursts enjoyed a fruitful ministry. Aggie gave birth first to a daughter, then a son. In time her husband became president of a Christian college in the Seattle area, and Aggie was intrigued to find so much Scandinavian heritage there.

One day around 1963, a Swedish religious magazine appeared in her mailbox. She had no idea who sent it, and of course she couldn’t read the words. But as she turned the pages, all of a sudden a photo stopped her cold. There in a primitive setting in the heart of Africa was a grave with a white cross and on the cross was her mother’s name, SVEA FLOOD.

Aggie jumped in her car and drove straight to a college faculty member who, she knew, could translate the article. “What does this say?” she asked.

The instructor translated the story:

It tells about missionaries who went to N’dolera in the heart of the Belgian Congo in 1921… the birth of a white baby girl… the death of the young missionary mother… the one little African boy who had been led to Christ… and how, after the all whites had left, the little African boy grew up and persuaded the chief to let him build a school in the village.

The article told how that gradually the now grown up boy won all his students to Christ… the children led their parents to Christ… even the chief had become a Christian. Today (1963) there were six hundred Christian believers in that one village.

Because of the willingness of David and Svea Flood to answer God’s call to Africa, because they endured so much but were still faithful to witness and lead one little boy to trust Jesus, God had saved six hundred people. And the little boy, as a grown man, became head of the Pentacostal Church and leader of 110,000 Christians in Zaire (formerly the Belgian Congo).

At the time Svea Flood died, it appeared, to human reason, that God had led the young couple to Africa, only to desert them in their time of deepest need. It would be forty years before God’s amazing grace and His real plan for the village of N’dolera would be known.

For Rev. Dewey and Aggie Hurst’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, the college presented them with the gift of a vacation to Sweden. There Aggie met her biological father. An old man now, David Flood had remarried, fathered four more children, and generally dissipated his life with alcohol. He had recently suffered a stroke. Still bitter, he had one rule in his family: “Never mention the name of God because God took everything from me.”

After an emotional reunion with her half brothers and half sister, Aggie brought up the subject of seeing her father. The others hesitated. “You can talk to him,” they replied, “even though he’s very ill now. But you need to know that whenever he hears the name of God, he flies into a rage.”

Aggie could not be deterred. She walked into the squalid apartment, with liquor bottles everywhere, and approached the seventy-three-year-old man lying in a rumpled bed.

“Papa?” she said tentatively.

He turned and began to cry. “Aina,” he said, “I never meant to give you away.”

“It’s all right Papa,” she replied, taking him gently in her arms. “God took care of me.”

The man instantly stiffened. The tears stopped.

“God forgot all of us. Our lives have been like this because of Him.” He turned his face back to the wall.
Aggie stroked his face and then continued, undaunted.

“Papa, I’ve got a little story to tell you, and it’s a true one.

You didn’t go to Africa in vain. Mama didn’t die in vain. The little boy you both won to the Lord grew up to win that whole village to Jesus Christ. The one seed you planted just kept growing and growing. Today (about 1964) there are six hundred African people serving the Lord because you and Momma were faithful to the call of God on your life.”

“Papa, Jesus loves you. He has never hated you.” The old man turned back to look into his daughter’s eyes. His body relaxed. He began to talk. And by the end of the afternoon, he had come back to the God he had resented for so many decades.

Over the next few days, father and daughter enjoyed warm moments together. Aggie and her husband soon had to return to America—and within a few weeks, David Flood had gone into eternity.

A few years later, the Hursts were attending a high-level evangelism conference in London, England, where a report was given from the nation of Zaire (the former Belgian Congo). The superintendent of the national church, representing some 110,000 baptized believers, spoke eloquently of the gospel’s spread in his nation. Aggie could not help going up afterward to ask him if he had ever heard of David and Svea Flood. “I am their daughter.” The man began to weep. “Yes, madam,” the man replied in French, his words then being translated into English.

“It was Svea Flood who led me to Jesus Christ. I was the boy who brought food to your parents before you were born. In fact, to this day your mother’s grave and her memory are honored by all of us.” 

He embraced her in a long, sobbing hug. Then he continued, “You must come to Africa to see, because your mother is the most famous person in our history.”

In time that is exactly what Aggie Hurst and her husband did. They were welcomed by cheering throngs of villagers. She even met the man who so many years before, when she was less than a month old, had been hired by her father to carry her down the mountain in a soft bark hammock. 

The most dramatic moment, of course, was when the pastor escorted Aggie to see her mother’s grave, marked with a white cross, for herself. She knelt in the soil of Africa, the place of her birth, to pray and give thanks. 

Later that day, in the church service, the pastor read from John 12:24:

“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

He then followed with Psalm 126:5: “They who sow in tears shall reap in joy.”

(An excerpt from Aggie Hurst, Aggie: The Inspiring Story of A Girl Without A Country [Springfield, MO: Gospel Publishing House, 1986].)

I came across this story and thought to share it with you because it made a great impact on me.

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Exiting the Exit … Hallelujah!

After the Halleluyah Challenge, we all Held Hands to Pray! We had finished The 3months Probation and needed Some good news. Out of 25 from different nations we were just 5 Nigerians. At the end of the day 7 would be selected and employed. Each time our Files were reviewed and our nationalities reflected Nigerians, I could see the look on their faces! Yes Nigerians have been so fraudulent over here, It has made life uneasy for other Easy going and Sincere Minds to Excel. Nevertheless I strongly believed Olowogbogboro was involved. So we reached the Office that faithful Thursday! This was the last day of work so therefore any decision would be taken that day! So we walked in and were served letters. Each letter carried “Retained” or “EXIT”. Four of Us saw retained, but 1. He was asked to exit! The joy ceased. The merriment died! But He put up a smile! And said Just like that God will Do it. We followed Him down to the elevator. On reaching we met a man inside so we joined, because of thoughts we didn’t press the level we were going, so we followed the man! The man admired our suits and asked what we were doing there. We told Him and even told Him about our ordeals. He smiled and asked us to follow Him. We reluctantly did. Maybe at most, A consolation Drink! On reaching He placed a call at the reception and asked for a man to come up!

The man came up and took us back to his office! The first question He asked was, How do you know that man? We all echoed We met Him at the Elevator! He replied This can only be the Mighty Hand of a Supreme Being! We all unknowingly responded Olowogboboro😅! What did you say? He asked! Nothing sir we replied! The man you met at the Elevator is the Owner of this Company. He visits Twice a Year! Today was His second and probably Visit. Anyway, You all have been Granted Residency Directly. No need for references, He has given Himself as one! Please go down and return the Exit letter to the man who served you! We look forward to working with you soon. Am not sure we heard the other part. We wanted going back to return our colleagues EXIT letter.

When we entered, He stood up! Oh how I love such moments. I was the spokesman. I graciously Smiled saying, Am sorry Sir,  It seems my colleagues Letter needs some Readjustment! Also the required references for the job is been suitably furnished. I buttoned my suit as I ended my words with a widened smile. He replied saying He’s Sorry for the inconveniences caused. Not a problem we all echoed ! My colleague was served another letter and we went to celebrate the God that Answers!

You see i may not know what you’re going through. But don’t give up! If you’ve prayed about it don’t give up! If you’ve praised, Don’t Give up! Just like that God will Do it for you. When all hope seems to be gone, The God of pleasant Surprises will surprise you.

I just hope this Write up encourages you!

#Olowogbogboro!

I came across this story and thought to share it with you because it blessed me.

#testimoniesofjesus 

TESTIMONY TIME: RAIN DROPS OF HARVEST.

I have another testimony to share, guys. This one happened just yesterday evening.

I finished a meeting at work at 6:30pm, and I was to head to church where service was scheduled to close at 7pm. I got to town at 7:15pm or so. Service had surely closed but I had promised a brother in distress over a matter that I would see him at church no matter how late I got back so, just to keep my promise, I decided to still go.

I took a bike and guess what, this Muslim bike man could not keep quiet. His gist was that he loves Christians because of our commitment to truth and integrity. He told of his interactions with Christians from all over Nigeria… particularly when he spent about 6 years in a Corpers’ lodge (or camp, not sure…my understanding of the Hausa language is still a work in progress) and how they treated him despite knowing that he was a Muslim.
He rattled on and on then I asked him why he doesn’t move over to Christianity? He chuckled and said that was a good and big question. Of course he tried to sell the “we are all one, Jesus is mentioned in the Quaran” line but I couldn’t follow his Hausa well enough.
At the end of our ride, he asked me to bless him so he too can have plenty money like me. I said “amen” and then told him in the little Hausa I could manage “Yesu na kiranka, kajinshi. Yesu na sonka”. Meaning “Jesus has called you and you have heard him. Jesus loves you” I smiled and we parted ways.

I hereby celebrate those unknown Christians whose Christian walk gave me this opportunity tonight to tell someone Jesus loves him.

“Paul plants, Apollo waters”

MY TESTIMONY: GOD IS ABLE

GOD IS ABLE

 

In the morning of Saturday 4th of January, 2014, I woke up feeling nauseous and eventually vomited twice, consisting only of sputum since I had not taken breakfast. My wife offered me tea and while I was in the bedroom getting set, I was suddenly hit with a sharp piercing pain in the middle of my chest all the way to my back between the two scapulae (shoulder blades). I bent over, eventually knelt beside our bed, sweating profusely that cold morning, in excruciating pain. I thought it was ulcer, because I had that in the past, but the location of the pain suggested otherwise.

 

All I could say was, “Jesus, what is this? What should I do?” He said to me, “Call your wife and get to Federal Medical Center Accident and Emergency Room” and I did that. She gathered our boys into the car and rushed them to our pastor neighbour’s house, briefly explained the situation and left for the hospital.

 

Based on the history of peptic ulcer disease and some reflux I had, the diagnosis was Gastroesophageal reflux disease (a condition where the acidic contents of the stomach flow back into the oesophagus and cause pain) and I was managed for that along with painkillers. All the while, I was vomiting.  My pastors came and prayed with me and anointed me with oil.

 

I was later moved to the amenity ward and the problem continued till the next morning when I was seen by a physician who, on examination, picked up a third heart sound (i.e. an abnormal heart rhythm) and ordered for a chest x-ray, which showed enlargement of the heart, and ECG, which showed marked ST elevation on all anterior leads indicating extensive myocardial infarction (i.e. abnormal heart beating pattern due to damage of the heart muscle caused by obstruction of blood supply to the heart by a major blood vessel. Simply put, a massive heart attack of the very worst type).

 

That afternoon, a severe pain started suddenly in my abdomen. It was so painful that I was screaming terribly loud. At this point, thoughts of dying and leaving behind my wife and two boys crossed my mind several times and on each occasion I would aim the scream at the devil and yell out “No!”

 

My wife came to me, leaned over me and said, “We’ll get through this. The devil came late because the victory started on Friday when God made sure you got back home instead of on Saturday as was usual for you.” And I agreed.

 

The consultant physician came back to see me and saw the ECG and commented that it was incredible for someone with my physique would have Myocardial Infarction (heart attack with damage to the heart muscle) so extensively. He prescribed Morphine and sent me to the ICU. I also had abdominal ultrasound scan and x-ray which both turned out normal.

 

That night, my wife put the song “God is Able” led by Reuben Morgan of Hillsong Australia on repeat on her phone and left it on my bed.

 

The next day, Monday, a consultant cardiologist performed an echocardiography and found evidence of extensive anterolateral myocardial infarction(i.e. extensive damage to the front part of the heart). He counseled that the extent of damage would require angioplasty (repair or reconstruction of blood vessels) or possibly a major heart surgery although an angiography (a study of the blood vessels that supply heart) would be needed to see the exact heart structures that had been damaged. Contact was made with a center in Lagos that had both the required personnel and equipment.

 

My pastors from various locations called in prayers, prayers were going on in church and at other groups in other churches. Some friends sent communion elements from the one they had at church that evening which I took till the next morning. And we made arrangements to have our tithes paid in our absence.

 

I had a very high temperature that Monday and an antimalarial was commenced.

 

Tuesday was dominated by travel arrangements and goodbyes from friends who probably entertained the possibility of never seeing me again. I couldn’t blame them; they’d never even as much as heard of me being ill let alone seeing me so pitiable.

 

We went to Kano by road and completed the trip to Lagos by air. We arrived Lagos at about 10:30pm and were transported by ambulance to the hospital. I was assessed again with all the x-rays, ECG, and finally with another echocardiography by a second consultant cardiologist at about 1:00am Wednesday morning and all the tests and examinations came to the same conclusion as before – extensive anterior myocardial infarction requiring angioplasty or major heart surgery after angiography to ascertain the extent of damage. This was scheduled for later that morning. And so I slept off.

 

A few hours later, I was awakened to be prepped for the procedure and surgery. We got to the theater table and the angiography was performed and to our amazement, there was no heart damage to be found and the place where the plaque had formed which caused the obstruction was identified but it had ulcerated (broken up) so much that no stent (a small pipe inserted into a blood vessel to keep it open) was required in anyway. There was obviously no need for surgery and I was cleaned up, returned to my room and placed on some drugs for preventive purposes. I was discharged the next day.

 

God showed up at the eleventh hour and resolved my situation in a way that only He can and I live evermore to praise His name. I am grateful for all the prayers of all the saints; I felt it because my faith, nor my wife’s, did not fail.

 

Indeed, our God is able.

 

You can’t beat God giving.

Amazing But True Stories
Evangelist R. W. Schambach writes:
“I’ll never forget, the greatest miracle I ever witnessed began with an offering. It happened under the ministry of Brother A. A. Allen.
I was with this man of God for about five years in the fifties. . .”
“. . . . A woman brought her child, who had twenty-six major diseases, to our meeting. I’ll never forget this as long as I live.
The boy was born blind, deaf and mute. Both arms were crippled and deformed. His elbows protruded up into his little tummy; his knees touched his elbows. Both legs were crippled and deformed; he had club feet. When he was born, his doctors said that boy would never live to see his first birthday, but they were wrong; he was approaching four years of age. Of course, his condition was breaking his mama’s heart. She came to our meetings all week, and I got concerned about that boy. In those crusades, we had
each person with a need fill out a prayer card, and as the Holy Spirit moved, we would pray for the needs God inspired us to pray for. And the Holy Spirit didn’t seem to be moving us to pray for that little boy.”
“The following Sunday, his mother came to me and said, ‘Brother Schambach, I’m down to my last twenty dollars. I’ve paid the hotel bill, but we’ve been eating in the restaurant, coming to three services a day and giving in every offering. All the money has run out. My baby has not been prayed for.’ She was very upset, and she was ready to give up and go home.”
“I said ‘Ma’am, I can’t apologize for the moving of the Holy
Ghost. I know you have to leave tonight, but if you come to the service and, once again, the Holy Spirit leads in another direction, and your son’s prayer card is not drawn for prayer, I will personally take your baby to the man of God’s trailer house and see that he lays hands on your baby. You will not leave disappointed.’ And I meant that from my heart.” “That night I came out, and I led the singing in that evening service. Then I introduced Brother A. A. Allen, and he came bouncing out on that platform and said ‘Tonight we’re going to receive an offering of faith.’ I had never heard him use that expression before, and I saw eyebrows lift all over the congregation. He went on, ‘Now, if you don’t know what I mean when I say an ‘offering of faith,’ I mean for you to give God
something you cannot afford to give. That’s a good definition, isn’t it? If you can afford it, there’s no faith connected to it. So give Him something you can’t afford to give.'” “As soon as Brother Allen said that, I saw that boy’s mother leap out into the aisle and come running. Three thousand people were watching her in that Birmingham Fairgrounds Arena as she threw something in that offering bucket. I never saw anybody in such a hurry to give, and, I confess, I was nosy. I came down off that
platform to see what she had given. You know what I saw in that bucket? A twenty dollar bill.”
“I knew that was all she had. She had told me that. She had driven from Knoxville, Tennessee, to the meeting in Birmingham, Alabama. She didn’t know how she was going to get home or what she was going to use to feed herself and her baby on the way. I went behind the platform and wept. I prayed, ‘Lord, I’ve been trying to teach that woman faith all week. But now I’m
asking You to give me faith like she’s got!'”
“. . . Brother Allen went on and collected the offering and
launched into his sermon. But about fifteen minutes into his message he stopped and said, ‘I’m being carried away in the Spirit.'” “I said to myself, ‘Here we go again on another trip.’ This is how God used him: he said he could see what the Holy Spirit wanted to communicate to him like he was watching it on a television screen. He would describe it as he saw it. That night he said, ‘I’m being carried away to a huge white building. Oh, it’s a hospital.’ Of course, I heard this kind of thing every night that I worked with Brother Allen so I was sitting there unmoved.” “Then he said, ‘I’m inside the hospital, and there’s no doubt in my mind where I’m heading because I hear all these babies crying.
It’s a maternity ward. I see five doctors around a table. A little baby has been born. The baby was born with twelve, no, sixteen, no, twenty-six diseases.'”
“When he said that, I started getting chill bumps up and down my spine. I said, ‘Oh, my God, tonight’s that baby’s night!” “Brother Allen continued, ‘Twenty-six diseases. The doctors said he’d never live to see his first birthday, but that’s not so. That boy is approaching four. Now I see the mother packing a suitcase.
They’re going on a trip. Another lady’s with her. The baby’s in a bassinet. It’s in the back seat of an old Ford. They’re driving down the highway. I see the Alabama/Tennessee border. That automobile is driving in the parking lot. Lady you’re here tonight. Bring me that baby! God’s going to give you twenty-six miracles.'” “That woman came running again for the second time that night. She put the baby in Brother Allen’s arms. I jumped up to stand beside him, and everybody in the audience, 3,000 strong, was standing. Brother Allen must have wanted to be sure that the
audience was agreeing in faith for the miracle because he said, ‘Everybody, close your eyes.’ But I thought, ‘Not me, mister. I’m going to be scriptural on this one. I’m going to watch and pray. I’ve been waiting for this all week. ‘” “That little boy’s tongue had been hanging out of his mouth all
week. The first thing I saw as Brother Allen prayed was that tongue snapped back in the mouth like a rubber band. For the first time in four years, the little guy’s tongue was in his mouth. I saw two little whirlpools in his eyes, just a milky color. You couldn’t tell whether he had blue or brown or what color of eyes.
But during the prayer, that whirlpool ceased, and I saw two brand new brown eyes! I knew God had opened his eyes, and if God opened the eyes, I knew He had unstopped the deaf ears.” “Then those little arms began to snap like pieces of wood; and for the first time, they stretched out. The legs cracked like wood popping. All of sudden, I saw God form toes out of those club feet as easily as child forms something with silly-putty. The crowd was watching by this time going wild! I’ve never seen any people shout and rejoice so much in all my life.”
“I saw that baby placed on his feet, and he began to run for the first time in his life. He had never seen his mama before, never said a word, but he began running across the platform and I was running right after him to catch him. He leaped into his mama’s arms, and I heard him say his first word, ‘Mama.'”
” . . . . The following Saturday after his healing, I received a
special delivery letter from his mother. . . She said ‘Brother
Schambach, I took the baby to the hospital Monday morning, and the doctors won’t give him back. They kept him all week. They have called in every doctor from all over the country who has had anything to do with the case. They have pronounced my baby cured of twenty-six major diseases.’ Of course, we went on to get the copies of the affidavits from the doctors certifying that boy’s
life was a genuine miracle.”
“Her letter continued, ‘You remember that last Sunday when I told you all I had was twenty dollars? God knows that was the truth.
But when that man of God said to give something you can’t afford, I leaped into the aisle. The moment I hit that aisle, for the first time in my life I heard the devil talk. The devil told me, ‘You can’t give that; that’s not yours. Fifteen dollars of that goes to the doctor. Five dollars is for gas to get home.’ The faster I ran, the faster he talked. But as soon as I turned loose of that money, he stopped talking.’
“‘Brother Schambach, all you saw was those twenty-six miracles, but there is one you don’t know anything about. After you were gone, people were staying there. They wanted to see the baby and see what God had done. People shook hands with me. When one lady shook my hands, I felt a folded piece of paper between
my palms. I opened it up and saw it was a twenty dollar bill. As I shook hands with the people who had lined up, every one of them had a folded paper in their hand. I went into the ladies room and counted $235!'”
THE ABOVE EXCERPT WAS TAKEN FROM
Schambach, R. W. You Can’t Beat God Giving

Timely deliverance from a car wreck!

I was driving back to work after ministering from a pulpit on the evening of Saturday 10th October 2015,just a few days ago, when I just had a flash of vision in which I was involved in a head on collision on that very road I was driving and it seemed I died.
Usually, I would just ignore such thoughts but I just felt pressed to rebuke it and I did so, out loud. I declared no accidents involving me nor my wife, nor my kids and their kids, nor my relatives, would ever happen. I declared no accidents for me as long as I live, in Jesus’ name.
Less than 1 minute, perhaps about 15 seconds after, just ahead of me, a bus on my side of the road had just finished it’s business and was engaging the road again, without any signal nor even checking the road, the driver just rolled in. I was too close to him, stepping on my brakes would have resulted in an alarming skid so I swung my car away from the bus further towards the mid line. At that same time, a car was coming in the opposite direction and was overtaking a motorbike and so he swung out well across the midline.
I escaped, I guess, with less than a foot from the vehicles on either side of my car.
I thank God for the early warning, I thank God I obeyed, I thank God for the angels who heard my decree and carried it out.
I thank God for deliverance.
I praise God.