Amy Carmichael was one of seven children born in Northern Ireland in 1867. Family worship, discipline, and times of prayer characterized the Carmichael home. She was the eldest with dark hair and brown eyes. Her eyes were a source of discontentment; at age 3, she asked God to change them to her favorite color–blue, but to no avail. She was an empathizer. She felt deeply what others felt. At age 12, she attended boarding school but financial difficulties stemming from her parents caused her to leave after three years. Though Scripture was used by her parents in everyday conversations, knowing the language of the Bible (which she did) did not make someone a Christian. It wasn’t until she was 15 that she truly decided to follow Jesus.

At age 18, she lost her father to pneumonia. Her mom, a widow with financial instability and hardship, never wavered in her confidence in God despite the heavy blow. Years later, Amy would remember searching her mom’s Bible and coming across Nahum 1:7, “The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him.” In the margins of her mom’s Bible, she had written, “Found true...”

Amy did not sink down into self-pity at the loss of her father but she focused her energies into serving others. She started somewhat of a neighborhood worship gathering inviting boys and girls to come together weekly for Bible reading and prayers. She began to engage with “shawlies” in Belfast (in Ireland) where the family had moved during the beginning of their financial difficulties. These shawlies were poor teenage mill girls that worked fourteen hours a day and could not afford to buy hats, only shawls, to protect them from the cold. Still a teenager, she took risks in love for others visiting the slums where they lived. Unsafe for anyone, yet alone a young woman, she would visit them, minister to them, and invite them to church. As time progressed, this ministry outpaced the needs the facility could offer having at times over 500 shawlies gather.

How could she afford to meet the needs of over 500 people? She took to the practice that would be the mark of her life, a practice that would fuel every great work from here on forward–that of prayer. Later in life she would write, “Prayer is the core of our day. Take prayer out, and the day would collapse.”

How often we forget that God desires intimacy more than activity. Yes, we are called to bear fruit but not without first abiding in him. If we abide, the fruit will come. But the most noble and significant and holy work by which all other work flows is that of prayer. Her prayer was answered not too long after. She felt compelled to go and speak to a mill owner in the area who gave her a plot of land for ridiculously cheap where a building would be built. If you think of mountaineering, there are many views before the summit that leave you breathless and in awe. She had experienced one here, one of God’s provision. Later, this would become the Welcome Evangelical Church still in Ireland today.

Because of bankruptcy, her mom moved the family to Manchester, England. Not long after that, Amy became very ill; doctors diagnosed her condition as neuralgia–a disease that attacks the nerves and makes the whole body weak and achy. This often kept her in bed for weeks at a time. An old family friend asked Amy to come live with him. His name was Robert Wilson, the founder of the Keswick Convention–an annual gathering of evangelical Christians in Kesick, the English country of Cumbria. He was a widower with two sons and had lost his only daughter at around Amy’s age. Her mom consented as did Amy. She became his adopted daughter. So close she felt to him, she often used the hyphenated name, Wilson-Carmichael.

During her two year stay with Wilson, whom she referred to as the D.O.M (the Dear Old Man), she attended this convention where she felt God put into her heart the ambition to be a missionary. But where would she go? How could she leave her mom behind–especially as the oldest and feeling responsibility for the family? How could she leave Wilson behind who had taken her in and lavished her with kindness and provision?

She wrote to her mother, “My dearest Mother, have you given your child unreservedly to the Lord for whatever he wills? O may he strengthen you to say yes to him if he asks something which costs.” Her reply? “Yes, dearest Amy. He has lent you to me all these years. He only knows what a strength, comfort, and joy you have been to me. In sorrow he made you my staff and solace; in loneliness my more than child companion; and in gladness my right and merry-hearted sympathizer. So darling, when he asks you now to go away from within my reach, can I say nay? No. Amy, He is yours–you are his–to take you where he pleases and to use as he pleases. I can trust you to him and I do...all day He has helped me, and my heart unfailingly says, “Go ye.”

She applied first to the China Inland Mission. She was rejected because of her health. How many would have cast aside this holy ambition ruling it out because of health? How many would have kept going even when rejected? Nonetheless, she persevered. Once she felt sure of a path, nothing would move her from it. She pressed on, and she was accepted as the first Keswick missionary by the Church Missionary Society. Her first assignment? Japan!

On March 3, 1893, tears flooded her cheeks as she departed for Japan. She was 24. She embodied the lyrics of Mighty Fortress written by Martin Luther three and a half centuries prior, “Let goods and kindred go. This mortal life also.” Wilson, the D.O.M had followed her as far as he could on the day of her departure; both were yelling Scripture verses to one another - him from the bank and her from the boat - as she drifted out of sight. The transition to Japan was extremely difficult. She would not call it cultural shock–she considered it the path God had deemed wise and best for her. This was not a shock as much as it was a lesson in dying to self. Every person that follows Jesus must pick up their cross and follow him–but each cross is tailored just for that person. On one of her transfer boats to Japan, she entered a cabin filled with cockroaches and rats to which she uttered, “In everything, give thanks.” She endured difficult days in her assignment to Japan. Upon one such day in particular with the pain of neuralgia, tight quarters of a traveling train, and the exhaustion of the day, she said to herself, “Amy, don’t be a baby. Sing a chorus and look forward.”

Sing a chorus. She was a warrior among women. In the moments where her physical weakness seemed to leak out spiritual vitality, how would renewal come? In the moments where darkness seemed like a stalking cloud that loomed over her, how would light come? Well, what did Paul and Silas do as they spent their night in the Philippian jail? They sang. Like saints and soldiers of old, Amy used worship as warfare. Singing lifted the heart into the Divine presence–a presence that gave power to endure any earthly circumstance.

During her time in Japan, many tough moments came knocking. Each one she considered “a chance to die.” If she were going to experience deeper intimacy with Jesus, she must become the seed that John talks about in John 12:24, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

One such death came by adopting the Japanese cultural dress. Her interpreter recommended she begin to wear the kimono, but Amy preferred western dress because the cold aggravated her neuralgia. One day, Amy and her interpreter visited a woman dying in the hospital. It seemed as if the woman was just on the threshold of repenting and believing in Jesus. Suddenly, the woman caught a glimpse of Amy’s fur gloves which sent the conversation in a completely different direction. Amy came home that evening repenting: “How could she risk so much for so little?” What were mere gloves that gave her comfort compared to the soul she was trying to win for Christ? No murmurs or complaining. No excuses, even though the pain could have been one. The gloves were a distraction. She would not wear Western dress again.

This lesson would stick with her–maximum fruitfulness for the kingdom and deeper fellowship with God would come by following in the steps of her Captain–Jesus, who aside his comforts and rights for the sake of those he came to rescue. How well would that lesson be learned by us!

Amy’s pain due to neuralgia became so unbearable that doctors told her she would have to leave Japan for a more suitable climate. Her stint in Japan lasted 15 months but she saw many saved to the family of God. Herclimb was not over. There were still views of God still to be seen. She kept climbing!

Now in her late twenties–she set sail for another mission field, this time to a place where the environment would have made it slightly easier for Amy’s body: Bangalore. In 1896, Amy lived in the Tinnevelly (ten-nev-elly) district with a group of missionaries led by Thomas Walker. Here, she began learning the Tamil language and began traveling with other women to villages and countrysides to share the Gospel.

It was on one of these itinerary trips that her life would take a massive turn, a turn that would birth inside of her a holy ambition that would consume the rest of her life. This is how God often works. He rarely gives us the next 10 steps of light–often, the lamp provides just enough illumination for a single step. Instead of trying to outrun God with the plans we think he may have for us, better to do the next thing of obedience, wait, and then watch where God is pointing the lamp next. What was this step for Amy?

One day, an Indian girl named Preena was collecting water near the Temple by which Amy was speaking. She was sold by her widowed mother into temple slavery. Amy engaged with the girl and shared with her about the kind and loving God she followed. The encounter ended. Later that week Preena was to be married to one of the Temple gods. This would have solidified a life of prostitution for the young girl. She ran away and was caught; as a punishment, she was branded with a red-hot poker. She made another attempt at running away; this time she remembered Amy and traveled to her home for help.

No stranger to risk, this put Amy in a hard place. To keep the girl meant she could be sued or even thrown in jail for kidnapping. But the possibility of harm coming to her for the possibility of protecting Preena from harm was worth it. She would not return Preena.

Sadly, selling girls and boys that were unwanted to the Temple to “marry the gods” was a common practice in India. This occurrence with Preena opened her eyes to the injustices happening at seemingly every corner. Another three years would go by without receiving another child. But in 1901, a baby was rescued by a pastor and put into Amy’s hands. By 1904, only three years later, another seventeen children had been brought to her.

There was no way she could do all that was required of her–yet, the Faithful Captain and Guide was asking her to climb higher still to views unseen; to see them however, she would have to trust in the strength he provided more than ever.

It became apparent rather quickly that her time of itinerant traveling had come to an end. But the traveling and speaking is what she felt most drawn to. She loved this work. Mothering was not her calling, at least she thought. How many of us have invented our plans that God never conceived for us or plans we created because the world said to value them? She concluded, however, “It is not a servant’s business to decide which work is great, which is small, which is unimportant or important–he is not greater than his master.” She would go on to say, “If by doing some work I consider unspiritual but that which would help others, and I inwardly rebel, I know nothing of Calvary love.”

In 1901, Amy, now in her early thirties, founded what is still known today as the Dohnavur Fellowship. Many girls would seek refuge at the Fellowship. Some were brought to her. Some still were rescued by Amy herself. If I could, let me ask you: how much would you inconvenience yourself to serve a brother or sister? How much would you be willing to put on the line if it meant a lost soul had the chance of experiencing salvation? Amy is an example for us–she would travel hours at a time down long, dusty roads of India to seek out a child and save them. She would dress in saris, stain her skin with coffee so as to blend in, and rescue them from the Temple. God knew what he was doing in not giving Amy the blue eyes she prayed for when she was three. Add a little bit of coffee to the dark hair and brown eyes and she was able to get away with these endeavors. May God raise up men and women here as bold and daring!

Nonetheless at the Fellowship, her days were spent tending to the children–the inglorious, sometimes gross, mundane tasks of rearing kids. Imagine spending your days cutting the toenails of dozens of kids. She needed help, but not just any kind of help. Many would apply to work at the Fellowship and Amy would have to turn them away. Others came but they didn’t last long. She prayed for those who were “utterly other-worldly, utterly single-hearted, and utterly consumed.” Oh, I pray this would describe the temperature of King’s Hill.

The Fellowship asked some twenty-five questions if interested in the work. Some of those included: “Do you truly desire to live a crucified life? This may mean doing very humble things joyfully for His Name’s sake. Do you realize that we are family, not an institution? Are you willing to do whatever helps most?” Not necessarily what you feel is best to be doing but where you are needed most. “Have you had the opportunity to prove our Lord’s promise to supply temporal as well as spiritual needs?” If anything other than the cross attracted them, she would rather not have them come.

Because of the demands she faced, she was very disciplined in what she said yes to and what she said no to. She remembered a lesson from the D.O.M that always stuck with her. She told her of a cathedral with three inscriptions. One was a rose. Beside the rose were the words, “All that pleases but for a moment.” Another was a cross and beside it read, “All that grieves but for a moment.” The last inscription had no icon, simply the words, “Nothing is important but that which is eternal.” She considered herself a soldier who would not get entangled in civilian affairs. Her ‘yes’s and no’s were always filtered by asking, “Will this advance the K.B (short for the King’s Business)? Will this be a seed planted for eternity? That’s what she cared about and it’s worth reflecting for ourselves, “Are there any entanglements, any civilian affairs, any trivial matters that we’re engaged in that have no impact on eternity?”

God was asking her to climb higher still. Put in her heart was the establishment of a school. God brought that about. Yet in the midst of a growing ministry, 1912-13 marked dark years of suffering. In August 1912, her spiritual mother died. Less than a week later, a pillar for the kindergarten team died. And then on August 20th, Thomas Walker–the spiritual giant that aided Amy in the work on the ground there also passed away. July of the following year, she got word her mother died. Sorrow upon sorrow.

How does one cope in the midst of tragedy? Those types of losses can cause one to stop climbing–to set up camp on the altitude you’ve reached and just coast. But not Amy! How does one gain firm footing when the ground beneath you shakes? She had three strategies–first, get alone with God. Second, do not retreat from the needs of others but rather run to them. The best way out of your own head is using your hands to serve. The soap used to wash dirty feet will leave not only your hands clean but also the heart. So she wrote a biography of Walker –to bring out of the shadows a life that would encourage many. And thirdly, and finally, books. But not just any books–missionary biographies. She called these books medicine and a fresh dose of mental air. May this be coaching advice for anyone tired or weary in their race.

The Fellowship continued to grow. The climb for Amy steepened. Nurseries turned into cottage homes. Schools were built for all ages from toddlers to teenagers, and now, even for boys. Climbing higher still, the Lord had put in Amy’s heart to build a hospital, a place where the sick could be served and the Gospel preached. The Gospel of Jesus was the engine behind every activity and every outreach connected to the Fellowship. Schools had a very Christ-centered learning. The hospital, in addition to offering physical help, was unapologetic in offering spiritual healing through preaching Christ to patients. Souls were being won in this blooming village as well as those surrounding it.

It shouldn’t go without saying that this work did not grow with the absence of opposition. She faced lawsuits by outsiders; she experienced the abandonment of workers; many misunderstood her methods and spoke unkindly of her; her immovable convictions exposed the lukewarmness of other Christians which wasn’t welcomed. Slander often followed. Not to mention, the deaths of little ones were frequent. But this was the cost of going to war against the spiritual forces of darkness: She wrote in a letter once: “When did warriors ask for an easy time? Or no wounds? Or no heart breaks? But he healeth the broken in heart and bindeth up the wounds.”

In 1931, Amy, along with others, traveled to a nearby village with the prospect of purchasing a house to expand their ministry. As she was walking in the darkness, she fell across the opening of a narrow pit, broke her leg, dislocated her ankle, and twisted her spine. This incident along with the increasing severity of neuralgia kept her bedridden for the remainder of her life. But even then, she was a mountaineer. There were still views God was calling her to. The next twenty years of her life, she would direct the operations of the Fellowship out of that bedroom.

She never asked “why” the incident happened to her. In acceptance lieth peace, she would write. For Amy, “why” wasn’t all that important. She had a resilient, steel-like confidence in God’s sovereignty. Whatever happened, she knew was best. She trusted in her Guide, her Captain.

Confined to her bedroom, she still found ways to keep herself tending to kingdom service. After decades of faithful living, one might be tempted to ease up a bit and to slowly drift towards comfort. But that wasn’t Amy’s style. She kept her eyes to the summit. For example, after her incident, she had a dog that would stay with her for company; however, after reading Colossians 3:2 during one of her devotionals (“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things”) she decided the dog must go. The dog was given too much time and attention. War is war. Stick to the King’s Business. She liked to keep herself busy. She would say, “Better to burn out than rust out.” She had a soldier-spirit. Her orders had not changed. The bedroom was simply a post with the same assignment. It was unthinkable for her not to be engaged in some type of work that aided in making disciples and added to the worship of Jesus. These bedroom years, where many would have given up, actually became some of the most prolific and fruit-bearing. During the course of her lifetime, she wrote over 35 books, but 14 of those came after this accident. God was the One who ultimately brought the affliction about. She knew that. And she wouldn’t have traded the mountain view of God’s comforting presence as a result of this affliction for anything. Her writing shared this view that encouraged thousands upon thousands across the world who were also walking with God in suffering. She was afflicted to be comforted and comforted to be a comforter.

On January 18, 1951, Amy Carmichael reached the summit, passing away at the age of 83. She entered into the joy of her master. She never married. Though the “other life” (that’s what she called those living out marriage) had been an option a couple of times in the past by suitors expressing their interest, ultimately, she knew God had a different path paved for her. Upon her arrival in India, she never came home. She spent 55 years in that country, and over 50 dedicated to the Dohnavur Fellowship. If you were to visit the Fellowship, a birdbath under a tree in Dohnavur honors her memory. On it is inscribed a simple word, “Amma” meaning mother.

Amy lived with a singular, consuming passion. She was gripped by a holy ambition that aimed to make much of Jesus. Though holy ambition often took the form of mundane, ordinary, unromantic tasks like reading books to kids and cutting their nails and bathing them, this offering of a life bore exponential fruit for the kingdom–more than we’ll ever know. She wasn’t looking for some new thing. We tend to overestimate what God can do in one year but underestimate what God can do in 10. She gave God 50 in India–she became a tree of life to many because she grew deep roots. The ministry grew to over 900 by the time of her death.

Her life is a challenge to us, “What will we give our lives to? What will be your singular, consuming passion? Amy never retired from bold faith and neither should we. She experienced many triumphs of God’s grace, but she kept pushing higher until the very end. Her prayer was this: “Make us thy mountaineers. May we not linger on the lower slope. Fill us afresh with hope, O God of Hope, That undefeated we may climb the hill as seeing Him who is invisible. Let us die climbing.” Of course, our ultimate example of the Mountaineer is not Amy, but Jesus himself. She learned to climb from him. Our Savior carried his cross up Calvary, not only risking his life but giving it up in love to pay the penalty for our sins that we may be reconciled back to God. May we carry ours and show this Calvary love the world. I pray you, as the reader, that your life would be one of climbing–climbing to see more, taste more, experience more, enjoy more–of God, and inviting others to the views God has brought you to. God, make us mountaineers!