Ravi Zacharias tells the story of David Livingstone

I remember telling this story at Amsterdam to the Itinerant Evangelist, and at the end of it, a Scotsman came and gave me a one-liner about that story that I won't forget. I told him this story. David Livingstone was born in Blantyre, Scotland, in 1813. He was born into a home where his father used to put him on his knee and read to him stories of great missionary exploits, one particularly Karl Gutzlaff, the Dutch missionary, who doubled up as a medical missionary too. And young David used to look into his father's eyes and say, you know, Daddy, one day I'm going to be a man like that. I want to be a missionary. I want to be a doctor. I want to serve God. So David Livingstone, on his young life, got on his knees one day, and he prayed this prayer. He said, Send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me. Sever any ties, but the ties that bind me to your service and to your heart. And he said, Through it all, the words of God came to me. Lo, I'm with you always, even unto the end of the age. He packed his bags and he went off to Africa. And when he took one glimpse of Africa from a distance, he penned in his journal these words, The haunting specter of the smoke of a thousand villages in the morning sun has burned within my heart. The haunting specter of the smoke of a thousand villages in the morning sun has burned within my heart. He married a woman of the famous Moffat family. Mary was her name. Her father had been a great missionary. But David Livingstone's life was one of an explorer, and he would move from place to place. And his only goal was Jesus in the hearts and lives of men and women, thousands of them. Finally, his wife and his young family couldn't keep up with him anymore. Some of his children were dying out of sickness and disease. And he said, Mary, why don't you take them back home, and I will see you shortly and spend some more time with you. It's too dangerous for us to go on. So he sent his dear wife Mary back home, and letters would take months to exchange. But some of the fondest letters of love and romance were exchanged between David and Mary. And you know when he saw her the next time? Not five weeks, not five months, five years. As an evangelist, I can't even stay away five weeks now. As a matter of fact, it's been a long time since I've stayed away that long, and I don't intend doing it anymore. Five days is long enough. Five months, I would never dream of and never want to do. Five years, I am neither condemning the man nor exalting the man. I'm just telling you what went on in his life. Five years later, when he set eyes upon his wife, she could not recognize him. Because at one stage in his jungle travels, going to preach, he'd walked into the branch of a tree that had completely blinded him in one eye and marred the other. His face had been burnt under the African sun to a crisp of leather, and his body not being pigmented, skin not being pigmented for it, it had roasted him to a point that his body really could not take any longer. His face marred and scarred, his eye blinded. At one time, he'd been attacked by a lion that had torn one of his shoulders apart. He miraculously escaped, and now she saw her husband hobbling in with a marred face and a disfigured physical countenance. And yet, hours before he arrived, they had buried his father, and David wept because he'd longed to look at his dad and tell him stories firsthand that his father had only told him thirdhand. Biographical sketches tell us that when David Livingstone walked into every university in the British Isles, students and faculties would rise to a standing ovation. They knew they were standing in the presence of a giant of a man. Finally, he went back to his wife one day, and he said, Honey, the haunting specter of the smoke of a thousand villages in the morning sun is still burning within my heart. We need to go back. And at one point, she decided that he should go, but she couldn't. She had to be with the children. She said, When they're all old enough, I will join you again, David. And he set off on his lonely journey to preach to the African people who were so much within his heart. Finally, after a long time, Mary joined him, and the day she set foot on African soil, she contracted the disease that they so dreaded. She would contract the very day she set foot, she got that disease. And a few days later, he was burying her, lowered into the soil of the African earth there. An eyewitness said, David Livingstone knelt beside the grave, and he was sweeping his heart out, and they overheard him praying, My Jesus, my King, my life, my all, I again consecrate my life to thee. I shall place no value in anything I possess or in anything I may do except in relation to thy kingdom and to thy service. And through it all, there came the words of God to my heart. He said, Lord, I'm with you always, even unto the end of the age. He picked up his belongings and walked back towards his village, hometown village of Ujiji. When he arrived and went into his little home there, he found out somebody had played a cruel joke on him and stolen his medication that he so needed because his body was wracked with pain, untold pain. He walked in constant agony. And they said in one of the very few times in his life for praying for himself, he got down on his knees and wept. And he said, God, you promised that you would always be with me. I need that medication if I'm to continue to preach the gospel. As he prayed, he heard steps. And as the story goes, he saw a pair of feet planted in front of him and his countenance lifted for the first time in a long while he was looking at the face of a white man who didn't live in Africa. And he said, Who are you, sir? And he says, Mr. Livingstone, I presume you get that famous line from day looks at him and says, Mr. Livingstone, I presume he says, Yes, sir. He says, Mr. Livingstone, I'm a press reporter consigned to do a story on your life. I want you to know two things about me. Number one, I'm the biggest swaggering atheist on the face of the earth. Please don't try to convert me. Number two, somebody has sent some medication for you. He says, Give me the medication, please. And Mr. Henry M. Stanley started to travel with David Livingstone. Four months later, the biggest swaggering atheist on the face of the earth knelt down on African soil and gave his life to Jesus Christ. One of the best biographies you'll ever read two volumes entitled Livingstone of Africa by Henry M. Stanley. He said the power of that Christ life was awesome. And I had to buckle in. I couldn't hold out any longer. Finally, as his body began to shrivel with high temperatures and pain, they used to carry him around from village to village on a stretcher. One day preaching from a stretcher with his heart body literally trembling. He finally looked at two of his national brothers and says, Please take me back home. I am very, very ill. I'm very tired. I need some sleep. They brought him back to his little home and were about to spill him over onto the bed when he says no, please help me onto my knees. And Livingstone buckled down on his knees by the side of his bed and clasp his hands and started to pray. His prayers were so profound. His sanctuary was so unique that the African brothers felt there was no, it would be blasphemy to stay in this single union communion with God. And they stepped out of his little room. And then somebody came running and said, I need to see Mr. Livingstone for a moment. They said, quiet, please. He's praying. Five minutes went by, they looked and he was still on his knees. Several minutes went by, looked and still he was a protracted period of time went by, they turned and he was still on his knees. One of them felt the man was just too tired to continue to pray. He needed to get some sleep. They walked over towards him. And one of them shook him by the shoulders and said, And Livingstone fell over. He was dead. He died exactly the way he had lived in the presence of his Lord. He didn't run from his voice. He didn't wave a lamp that had no light in it. He didn't sell his soul for some earthly pleasure. But the haunting spectrum, the smoke of a thousand villages had burned itself within his heart. Till he could say, my Jesus, my King, my life, my all, I again consecrate myself to Thee.