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Elisabeth Elliot

Elisabeth Elliot

Elisabeth Elliot (1926 - 2015)

Was born in Brussels, Belgium to a pair of missionaries, Philip and Katherine Howard. However, Elisabeth’s time abroad didn’t last long; her family moved back to the Philadelphia area when she was five months old because her father had accepted a job as the editor of a small newspaper. As Elisabeth grew up, missionaries were regularly visiting the Howard household, having a profound impact on Elisabeth's choice to attend Wheaton College, in order to study classical Greek so that she could work in the missions field as a Bible translator. It was there that Elisabeth met Jim Elliot, who would become her first husband after the two had served independently as mission workers in Ecuador. Tragically, Jim was brutally murdered by the Aucan Indians—the very tribe Jim was trying to save. Instead of returning to the States, Elisabeth continued to commit her life to Christ and lived with the very tribe that had speared her husband to death.

Elisabeth and her daughter, Valerie, moved back to Massachusetts in 1963. She later married a professor named Addison Leitch, who died of cancer in 1973. In 1974, Elisabeth accepted a position as an Adjunct Professor at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. She taught off-and-on for a few years, until she took the Writer in Residence at Gordon College. In 1977, she married again. This time to a man by the name of Lars Gren. Elisabeth is the author of nearly twenty books, including Shadow of the Almighty and Passion and Purity, which both tell the story of Jim and Elisabeth’s lives. Elisabeth toured the nation for the majority of her life, telling all that she had learned in her widely experienced life. She also hosted a daily radio show, Gateway to Joy for thirteen years, until 2001. Now, she and her husband, Lars, live in Beverly, Massachusetts.


Elisabeth Elliot is a Christian author and speaker. Her first husband, Jim Elliot, was killed in 1956 while attempting to make missionary contact with the Auca (now known as Huaorani) of eastern Ecuador.

She later spent two years as a missionary to the tribe members who killed her husband. Returning to the United States after many years in South America, she became widely known as the author of over twenty books and as a speaker in constant demand.

Elliot toured the country, sharing her knowledge and experience, well into her seventies.

      Elisabeth Elliot is a Christian author and speaker. Her first husband, Jim Elliot, was killed in 1956 while attempting to make missionary contact with the Auca (now known as Huaorani) of eastern Ecuador. She later spent two years as a missionary to the tribe members who killed her husband. Returning to the United States after many years in South America, she became widely known as the author of over twenty books and as a speaker in constant demand. Elliot toured the country, sharing her knowledge and experience, well into her seventies.

      Elisabeth Elliot is one of the most influential Christian women of our time. For a half century, her best selling books, timeless teachings and courageous faith have influenced believers and seekers of Jesus Christ throughout the world. She uses her experiences as a daughter, wife, mother, widow, and missionary to bring the message of Christ to countless women and men around the world.

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Either we are adrift in chaos or we are individuals, created, loved, upheld and placed purposefully, exactly where we are. Can you believe that? Can you trust God for that?
topics: Trust  
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Worry is the antithesis of trust. You simply cannot do both. They are mutually exclusive.
topics: Worry , Trust  
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Guidance for Israel in their wanderings was unquestionable (Numbers 9). There could be no doubt if God wished them to move. Shall my Father be less definite with me? I cannot believe so. Often I doubt, for I cannot see, but surely the Spirit will lead as definitely as the pillar of cloud. I must be as willing to remain as to go, for the presence of God determines the whereabouts of His people.
topics: jim-elliot  
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[God] seems so much 'for us' these days. I have not lost one nameable thing by putting her and our whole affair in the simplest way possible into His hands. There has been no careful planning, no worrying over details in the matter. I have simply recognized love in me, declared it to her, and to Him, and as frankly as I could told Him I wanted His way in it. There has been no leading thus far to engagement, but the symptoms of a beautiful courtship prevail - not, perhaps, a routine one, or a 'normal' one, but a good one, nevertheless, and, withal, a deep sense that it is God-directed.
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The Holy Spirit can and will guide me in direct proportion to the time and effort I will expend to know and do the will of God.
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My joy is full.
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The believer alone will be able to hear the call. It comes from beyond ourselves, beyond our society, beyond the climate of opinion and prejudice and rebellion and skepticism in which we live, and beyond our time and taste. It draws toward the center of all things, that still place of which T.S. Eliot wrote : Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled About the centre of the silent Word.
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Lord, where there are interruption, it seems that the disposal of the time I had planned so well have slipped out of my hands. Help me then to remember that it has not slipped out of Yours. In Your hands, these unexpected things will be fashioned into an unexpectedly beautiful design
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The ways of the world exalt themselves against God. They sometimes look rational and appealing to the most ernest disciple but Christ says to us then what He said to His disciples long ago, when many of them had given u pin disgust, "Do you also want to leave me?" If we answer as PEter did, "Lord to whom else shall we go? Your words are words of eternal life," our rebel thoughts are captured once more. The way of holiness is again visible.
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God calls me. In a deeper sense than any other species of earthbound creature, I am called. And in a deeper sense I am free, for I can ignore the call.
topics: freedom  
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I wonder if she allowed the man to see her eagerness and scared him? Possibly her failure to wait quietly caused him to "curtail the friendship".
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The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one’s self of the chains that shackle the spirit.
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If in fact I do believe these great things we say and sing together, then those little things (and what is not little by comparison?)
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You always carried your dolls in a carrying cloth as Indian mothers did, and as you yourself had been carried. You played house with the Indian children—something they had never thought of doing, but you showed them how to fix a little place in the hollow of a tree root and build a tiny fire in the middle of it, for, after all, the only really essential item in a house in the jungle was a fire. Were you conforming to social pressures in playing such “girl’s” games? Surely not. Surely it was because you were born a woman. There was in you a knowledge divinely given on which your imagination, more active than the Indians’, went to work.
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I have found, to depression as well. You yourself will be given light in exchange for pouring yourself out for the hungry; you yourself will get guidance, the satisfaction of your longings, and strength, when you “pour yourself out,” when you make the satisfaction of somebody else's desire your own concern; you yourself will be a source of refreshment, a builder, a leader into healing and rest at a time when things around you seem to have crumbled.
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All creatures, with two exceptions that we know of, have willingly taken the places appointed to them. The Bible speaks of angels who rebelled and therefore were cast down out of heaven, and of the fall of man.
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We are encompassed on all sides by the Almighty. “His tender mercies are over all His works,” “steadfast love surrounds him who trusts in the Lord,” and “underneath are the Everlasting Arms.” Over, around, underneath. We are enfolded. Can you think of a safer place to be?
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Never think she loves him wholly, Never believe her love is blind, All his faults are locked securely In a closet of her mind; All his indecisions folded Like old flags that time has faded, Limp and streaked with rain, And his cautiousness like garments Frayed and thin, with many a stain— Let them be, oh let them be. There is treasure to outweigh them, His proud will that sharply stirred, Climbs as surely as the tide. Senses strained too taut to sleep, Gentleness to beast and bird, Humor flickering hushed and wide, As the moon on moving water, And a tenderness too deep To be gathered in a word.
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MAKE us masters of ourselves,” wrote the prison reformer Sir Alexander Paterson, “that we may be the servants of others.
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In order to be a disciple we must deny ourselves—this is to exercise authority over our own spirit. We must take up the cross—this is to submit to Christ’s authority. And we must follow—this is continued obedience. This is the road not to confinement, to bondage, to a stunted or arrested development, but to total personal freedom. It means not death but life, not a narrowly circumscribed life but “abundant” life.
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