Phil Davis: A True History of a Missionary
"Dorothy, don't move! There's something on your back. It's about four inches long!"
"Well, get it off me!"
"Aii! It's a roach!"
This was our introduction to Puraquequara, a missionary school, where I was supposed to teach. It was mid November, but we were there! The two hour trip there included rain, rain, and more rain. This wasn't any simple rain. If you've ever been under a shower that has extremely high pressure behind it, expand that to where it's like that all around you. That was our boat ride from Manaus to Puraque.
I grew up in South Carolina with friends of my parents in order to get a U.S. education. My parents were not divorced; please don't misunderstand me. They loved each other very much. In fact, if their marriage wasn't strongly held together in God's love they would never have been in Africa. Their work in Kenya continued as my education here in the US progressed slowly.
I saw my parents once or twice over a ten year period because passage to Africa was so expensive. Life was not without its joys, though. I met Grace, my wife, in South Carolina. Her parents worked with the tribal natives in Morocco. Going through the same situation of being away from our parents for long periods of time drew us closer together, I believe, than most couples. God's provision was continually seen in our lives as we, too, applied to missions boards in hopes of carrying the Gospel to others.
After being turned down by two mission agencies, I was asked to teach at the Bible school in Bristol, TN, which we had attended together. I taught there for several years and was always praying and waiting for God to work something out for us to get to the mission field.
By now, our family had grown to a total of nine including myself and Grace. However, many would wonder about this had they seen our apartment. The girls stayed in one corner of this two room apartment, and Grace and I stayed in the other corner, which was separated only by a curtain pulled between us. Harold, our only son, slept wherever he found room. Sometimes it was on the floor; other times it was on the furniture. We were forced to discard most of our furniture because there wouldn't have been any walking space in the house.
Here again God taught us patience and endurance through our dependence on Him. We had a running joke in our family that when we were getting low on food, we would say to each other, "We're down to the grits."
This particular week we were down to the grits. Corn meal mush was all we had left. I had no idea where our next meal was going to come from. I had no money. That morning when we sat down to eat we told our children, "This is our last meal. We have no more food, and only God can provide." I suppose it was one of the quieter meals we had ever eaten together as a family. After we finished, we all left to go to work or school.
When we returned later that day, we could only stand in awe at what we saw. Our already crowded apartment was filled with grocery bags of food. The counter, the table, the cupboard, and parts of the floor were hidden from sight. We still don't know where it came from except that we give God the praise for it.
Besides experiencing God's grace in special circumstances in Bristol, this was also where I met a young lady who had struggled all her life with many different problems. My wife and I began counseling her, and she showed minor improvements. In our continued prayers we eventually began to approach it directly on a spiritual level.
Had it not been for our acceptance into New Tribes Mission, we probably would have been asked to leave the school as a result of their doctrinal beliefs and our views of dealing with this young lady. This young women followed us to New Tribes jungle training, and it was here that God brought an end to the hold Satan had on her. She married and moved on to work on the mission field about the same time we did, but God provided for us in different ways.
I can say from my life experiences that God works in mysterious ways. He has awed me and my wife each day of our lives, and is continuing to do so.
One particular instance happened while at jungle camp. We were invited to a church to speak. I had already spoken at several churches and knew that they wouldn't always ask for an offering. The truck we used for transportation was simple, and God had kept it running well for us. I had made a topper of plywood for protection and set down a few planks in the back to provide seats for the children to sit on.
When we left the house I saw that the gas gauge was near empty, and I silently prayed that God would see us through. We arrived at the church, and everyone piled out. I spoke at the service and as we were preparing to leave I realized that I had no money. With the gas gauge on empty, I asked God to safely get us home.
I still praise Him for getting us home, because the moment we stopped in front of our house and the children were out, the truck died. I felt disappointed at the time, "I should have asked to get us to the parking lot."
From the beginning of our marriage, Grace and I had set the rule that we tithed first, then paid our bills, and if anything was left we would buy food, fuel, and clothes - in that order. When we finished our training and had completed our deputation, we lived with my uncle in Florida. There we found some work with him and went to the beach to relax after nearly every day.
We had set the deadline for payment on the tickets for the first part of November, and we had part of it paid. However, nothing more was promised to us specifically for the tickets, and we couldn't afford to dig into our vouchers for that payment. On the final day, I received a letter from a relative. Praise be to our God, it was the exact amount for the passage. Just enough for seven children and the two of us.
We arrived in Belem and loaded ourselves onto a small ship. It took seven days for us to travel up river to Manaus, one thousand miles inland. We had our own cabin, for which I was great fully thankful. The other boats I had seen were covered with hammocks and had just enough room to walk from the front to the back.
From Manaus to Puraque we traveled in a down-pour. When we arrived, we were greeted on the dock, which nearly went under from the weight of all the people. Pearl our second oldest, unfortunately slipped off the dock and soaked her bucket purse.
That was only the beginning of what God taught us in missions work, and we still thank Him for it all. We don't know what he'll do next, but He works wondrously. That's why we love Him.
Since retiring from New Tribes Mission Phil and Grace Davis have lived in Florida for six years. They are still actively involved with missions. Phil Davis, my grandpa, has had the opportunity to return to Brazil on occasion to act as the translator for several short term missions trips. He also counsels young and struggling believers as they grow in Christ.
Puraquequara is where Phil Davis taught
his first few years in Brazil. Here is a beautiful sunset looking out
toward the river from the school's banks.
Questions
- Where did Phil Davis grow up?
- How long was it before he saw his parents when he came to school?
- Where did his wife's parents live?
- What was his wife's name?
- What was his method for making payments and providing for the family?
- Do you think he provided for his family the best he could?
- Write down a short paragraph of what you would do if you were ever "broke" and had to needed a ride home.
Answers to questions:
1. South Carolina
2. About twice in ten years
3. Morocco
4. Grace
5. Tithing first, then bills, food, fuel, and clothes for the family
6. Yes, answers will vary
7. Answers will vary
Outline for story
Intro. First night in PQQ
- School in South Carolina
- Ten years without seeing parents
- Taught at Bible School
- Living in small apartment
- Accepted to NTM after being turned down twice
- Jungle camp
- Deputation
- Money for the passage
- Belem to Manaus
Resources
Mr. Phil Davis
Dorothy Nordaas (Davis)