By John Vogel
In Chapter 2 of Acts, Jesus Christ instructs the Apostles to go out and spread the good news to the four corners of the earth. Millions have accepted this mission to varying degrees, but missionary David Livingstone took it as a full-on challenge.
David was born into poverty in 1813, the middle of seven children raised in purely industrial areas. His father, a British tea salesman, served as a Sunday school teacher and inspired his middle child to serve the church.
Hell-bent on bringing heaven to earth, Livingstone dedicated himself to expanding the Kingdom of Heaven to areas of the world with the least exposure to the word of God. During his time in seminary, he pondered in which of the four corners of the world he would serve. At first he focused his attention on ministering in China, but due to the First Opium War, those plans fell through. He shifted to India, only to be turned away as a result of India being in good supply of missionaries and doctors. Finally he focused his attention to the Dark continent, which at the time, was damn near unknown. By 1839, he was granted passage to South Africa via the London Missionary Society.
Arriving in Cape Town, South Africa in 1841, Livingstone wasted no time in setting out for the badlands. His first posting was 1000 miles north to Kuruman, and it didn’t take long for him to request funding to explore drastically untouched areas deep within the continent. With every request sent to the London Missionary Society, money and prayers were sent back.
In the bush, his biblical knowledge only would get him so far. He learned the required skills to survive. Hunting, trapping, building, rucking, and mastery of the rifle were all needed unless he was scheduling his appointment with God early.
Within a decade, he had established himself not just as a missionary willing to bear the weight of several crosses, but as an adventurer who was slowly but surely traversing more square footage of uncharted territory than anyone else. By this point, the Royal Geographic Society had already used his information in the mapping of southern Africa, including major and minor waterways, lakes, inlets and tribal information.
Through it all, he navigated his way across the Kalahari Desert, into Botswana and back. He washed himself in the waters of the Vaal River, became proficient in four tribal languages (none of which had ever been put to paper) and took naps on the shore of Lake Ngami, surely the first white man to ever lay his head there.
But even through a decade of ministry and miles, Livingstone only had one confirmed convert. The ruler of Botswana and the Kwana people by the name of Sechele I. Sechele took to the gospel message rather well, enough that he requested baptism. His five wives were a bit of a hangup for the church, so he “divorced” four of them. But as we learned with Jesus, a few faithful is all you need. Sechele extended the ministry to his people.
By 1855, Livingstone was called back to London. Upon arrival, he was greeted by the Royal Geographic Society with awards, begged for stories, and probably asked to see a scar or two. Prodded by the Missionary Society, he wrote of his travels, imparting his wisdom of languages, anthropology, geography, and overall badass tales only Africa can provide. His book was titled Missionary Travels. He used this book not only to give a view into the untamed nature of the African bush, but also to speak out against slavery of all sorts.
He returned to Africa in the mid 1860s with one real question in mind: Where does the Nile River begin? He had explored the river’s southern banks, but the location of the Nile’s origin was still only theory. In 1866, with enough porters and financial coverage to qualify for NATO, he set out north from Zanzibar.
And then he disappeared.
For six years, no word was received, no updates given. Only one of 44 letters written by Livingstone actually reached Zanzibar. That one letter stated that the likelihood of him surviving would be slim to none. Most of the porters left, pack animals died and he himself became seriously ill with numerous jungle-born diseases. In 1869, he was discovered by Arab traders who aided him and did their best to patch him up, but he was in such poor health, their treatments were only bandaids. Waiting out the wet season, he eventually headed 240 miles to the banks of Lake Tanganyika (in modern day Tanzania) to recuperate. In the process, he realized all his theories of the Nile’s headwaters were incorrect.
It was here, in the Fall of 1871, trying to regain his strength, that he encountered a white Welsh journalist who addressed him by name. Probably assuming hallucinations, the man supposedly greeted him with “Doctor Livingstone, I presume?” The journalist’s name was Henry Morton Stanley, and he had been dispatched to write an article on the whereabouts of Livingstone. Morton stayed with him, trying to convince him to return home and recover. Livingstone however, opted to see his mission through. Riddled with the lasting effects of numerous diseases, he continued on his journey, leaving Stanley to write his article, and in May of 1872, Livingstone succumbed to malaria, dysentery and internal bleeding in Zambia. His remaining porters buried his heart near where he died, and sent his body back to England, where it was interred at Westminster Abbey.
