Amy Carmichael - A Bibliography

We must remember that it was not by interceding for the world in glory that Jesus saved it. He gave Himself. Our prayers for the evangelisation of the world are but a bitter irony so long as we only give of our superfluity, and draw back before the sacrifice of ourselves.
M. Francois Coillard

Introduction                                                     

The little girl of three years of age had heard her mother say repeatedly that Jesus answers prayer - that He always hears, and always answers. So she went to bed one night, praying with young, earnest faith that the colour of her eyes could change, while she slept, from brown to blue, that she could be more like her mother who had beautiful blue eyes. Excitedly the next day, she grabbed a chair to climb to look into the mirror – and to her utter dismay, her eyes were still the same dark brown as they had been the night before. How could this be? How could she believe to ever pray again? These were the thoughts she had, until a soft word came to her saying, “Isn't 'No' an answer?”

The little girl was Amy Carmichael, the incident very real. As much as she was disappointed that day, God's reasons for His 'No' became very plain to her and others when she left England at the age of 26 to go to the Mission field, and ultimately landed up in India, where blue eyes would have been more detrimental than beautiful to the Indian people and their willingness to listen to the Gospel.

In Amy Carmichael we have an example of a woman who decided, from an early age, to lay down her life for the sake of others. She spent her life on behalf of the people of Southern India, and allowed God to use her to touch hundreds while she was alive, and thousands even after her death through her writings.

What is striking about her story is that she suffered from neuralgia (pain that affects/runs along specific nerves) her entire life, and spent the last nearly twenty years of her life mostly bedridden after falling into an unseen pit and twisting her spine. Neither of these conditions did anything more than slightly slow down someone I would like to call a tornado of the Kingdom! Amy Carmichael did not seem to waste a moment, but lived her life fully and fruitfully until her death at age 84.

In this biographical paper I have attempted to portray the various aspects of Amy's life – from childhood to her work in Southern India. I have included a few extracts from some of her writings – poetry and prose, and include a section I have called “Her Inspiration to Us”. To reduce a life so full – of faith, good works and sacrifice – to a few pages is almost impossible, in fact nearly scandalous! I have attempted to capture a few important occurrences in her life that shaped who she became, but have had to leave out a reasonable amount of detail. My hope is that as you read this paper, it would stir you to read the books I have cited,(and any others you can get your hands on) about the woman the Tamil people she worked with called “Amma”.(Mother)

 
Her Childhood

Amy was born on December 16th, 1867, in the sea-side village of Millisle, Northern Ireland. She was the oldest of seven children, and was raised in a God-honouring family by strict Presbyterian parents. “For several generations, at least, the Carmichaels had been God-fearing people with a well-deserved reputation for integrity...”  There are accounts of the generosity and practical service her parents gave to many in their village – soup delivered (by Amy and her siblings) to the elderly, a horse-drawn carriage given to a minister when he became too frail to walk to visit his parishioners. There are numerous stories told of Amy as a child. They show, refreshingly, how very normal she was!
                                                         1
Another day when our parents were out and Bessie busy with the younger children, my two brothers and I fulfilled a long cherished desire. We climbed through a skylight which was in the ceiling above
the bath...and so got out on the roof. Around the edge of the roof was a lead gutter. I had set my heart on walking on this gutter. My little brothers followed me most loyally. We walked triumphantly around the roof along the gutter – and when we came to the front of the house we looked down. There, on the lawn before us, stood our father and mother, looking up.

One day Amy and two of her brothers were swinging on the garden gate when an idea struck her. They had been told that the seeds of the nearby laburnum tree were poisonous. “Let's count how many we can eat before we die!” said Amy. It was not long before they began to feel uncomfortable...

Once when the theme of the prayer meeting was “Our Departure from this World,” Amy amused herself by counting up all the various things hymn writers said you were supposed to do at the precise moment of departure. How a dying person could manage them all she was at a loss to know...

When Amy was twelve she was sent to a boarding school in Harrogate, Yorkshire. While she was there, it seems that competition with American flour producers necessitated a move to Belfast where Amy's father and uncle built a new mill. Even though Amy's time at the school was mostly unhappy, there was one moment which would make it all worthwhile. The Children's Special Service Mission held meetings at which an Edwin Arrowsmith spoke. She could never recall his sermon later, but remembered singing “Jesus loves me this I know..”, and after singing sat quietly - understanding more fully the love her mother had always told her about. She realised she had never actually opened her heart to Jesus, and so proceeded to do so. “In His great mercy the Good Shepherd answered the prayers of my mother and father and many other loving ones, and drew me, even me, into His fold.”   After those three homesick, not particularly happy years, Amy was taken out of the boarding school because of financial difficulties.

Three years later, the family was placed under greater financial strain after a large loan given by Amy's father to a friend, was unable to be repaid to them. Soon after that her father
contracted double pneumonia, and died at fifty-four years of age.                 
The death of her father caused Amy to mature overnight, and she became an indispensable
ally and friend to her mother as they faced an unsure future.
                                                    
Being of an acutely sensitive nature, Amy must have felt deeply the loss of her father. The happy, peaceful, predictable routine of her home life was profoundly shaken. If she had been born a hundred years later, she would very likely been encouraged to be angry, told she had a right to express her anger and her sorrow and her bewilderment and her rage, and generally to disintegrate. These were not the expectations of her friends and family. Nothing could have been further from her expectations of herself. Instead, she threw herself into serving others. She became like a second mother to her brothers and sisters.1

A while later, Amy experienced something that would fashion her heart and life forever. Walking home after a church meeting one grey day, she and her brothers saw an unusual sight – an old woman walking on her own with a heavy bundle. Amy and her brothers turned around and helped this woman down the street. This meant facing their fellow parishioners, a
very embarrassing situation for her. As they passed a fountain, “..this mighty phrase was suddenly  flashed as it were through the grey drizzle: 'Gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay  stubble – every man's work shall be made manifest; for the day shall declare it, because it shall be declared by fire...If any man's work abide...'(1 Cor 3: 12 - 14)”2 From that moment on, Amy's values were irrevocably changed. She realised that she wanted to build her entire life out of precious stones, and this is clearly seen in the way she laboured in the mission field later in life.

The years between that revelation and relocating as a missionary, were spent reaching various groups of people – with no regard for their social standing or lack thereof! Amy's efforts to see many saved were prolific and wholehearted.

She began ministries to young girls who worked in the mills – called Shawlies because they could not afford hats! She worked with children – Frank Houghton refers to people who were still alive when he wrote his biography on Amy - who recalled the messages she used to preach in children's meetings. He also tells of an evangelistic trip Amy did with another young lady nearby their home.3

It was during this time of serving faithfully on her very doorstep that the call to serve further afield came.

 
Amy as Missionary

From 1890 Amy became like a second daughter to a Mr Robert Wilson (whose own wife and daughter had both died years earlier). The significance of this is manifold. Firstly, he was the Chairman of the Keswick convention – an annual convention that brought believers from all over the UK together, to strengthen their spiritual walk. This meant that Amy met men who were serving God all over the world – like Hudson Taylor and F.B. Meyer - who would ultimately inspire her decision to obey God and “go”.

In January 1892, Amy felt God clearly speak to her about 'going'. A year later she felt God
                                                    
speak the same words “Go ye...” to her, and felt that Japan may be where she should go. At this time, in terms of church history, missionaries were released through missionary groups
                                                    
formed along denominational lines – that is, there was a Church of England group, a Baptist group, a Presbyterian group and so on. Amy actually never officially belonged to any of these groups! Through her relationship with Robert Wilson, and the doors it opened for her, she managed to be a part of a group of missionaries released to Japan in March 1893, without any board determining where, how or why she worked. (Mr Wilson supported her financially in all her missionary work.)

After 18 months in Japan her weak health caught up with her and she was sent home for rest. After recuperation, Amy began making noises about heading abroad again, “...but no doctor would pass me for any tropical land.”1  Later in that year (1895), she received a letter from a friend in Southern India, who mentioned that the climate was reasonably agreeable. This appealed to my people, though not to me; it sounded much too easy.2 It was only the thought that at least her friends and family would be more at ease if she went somewhere more suited to her health that she agreed to give India a chance. So without a distinct call to India, off Amy sailed, and so began an incredibly fruitful, meaningful lifetime of service.

She began her stay in India in Bangalore, staying with other missionaries, spending time learning the language. She soon relocated to a region called Tirunelveli (Tinnevelly to the English!), where a man known as Walker of Tinnevelly became as an older brother to her. He was one of the few who did not argue with Amy when she began to wear Indian dress instead of English. In these early days Amy formed a “Woman's Band” - a group of women the locals called the Starry Cluster” who travelled from village to village trying to reach the women there. The next part of God's plan for her was quite unexpected.

Throughout India, especially before and during Amy's lifetime, and still now not completely wiped out, there was a custom practiced at the Hindu temples. A girl – from newborn to older – could be sold or given to the Temple workers to become prostitutes. This custom was never advertised, and some doubted its existence, but Amy had suspicions which were ultimately confirmed one day when a young girl arrived at her doorstep asking for protection. She was the first of many young children who became part of Amma's family in Dohnavur, being discipled in the ways of Christ, themselves becoming leaders of the work and winning other souls.

Of course, none of this happened without huge spiritual battles being fought, sometimes won, sometimes lost. The cruelty of the caste system in India is appalling. One story Amy tells is of a young child of about 3 or 4, lying in a bed constantly whimpering and rubbing his eyes. She could see what ailed him, and offered to take the child to the local hospital a few miles away. The family refused, saying it would break some caste rule, and family tradition to do so, and so decided they would rather see their child suffer and die, than break caste!

At other times, an individual who decided to follow Christ was often whisked away to relatives, or drugged/brainwashed to be totally changed in personality and faith, or married off quickly to tie them down in family duties and more caste rules.

Despite the opposition however, Amy and her co-workers built faithfully and steadily, establishing the Dohnavur Fellowship, which is still running today - saving lives, rescuing
souls.

One other method Amy employed in her work is worth mentioning. She refused to ask for money! Whenever a need arose, she would pray, encourage her co-workers to pray, and wait for God's provision. And He never disappointed.

Amy Carmichael truly gave her life for God's service. Before she left England she spoke at a meeting. “In Keswick From Within the Rev. J. B. Figgis refers to this gathering: 'Who can forget Miss Amy Wilson Carmichael's farewell address, ere she left for her life of sacrifice in India, as she unrolled a 'ribband of blue' with the golden words, 'Nothing too precious for Jesus'?”1 Reading of all she accomplished in India, one can only be thankful that nothing was too precious for her to give to Jesus, and be inspired to have the same heart's cry.

 
Amy as Author

Throughout her life Amy loved writing. It began with a 'family newsletter' – called “Scraps”, which she and her siblings produced. This was to be the humble beginnings of a God-given talent being used to inspire, stir, comfort and instruct many, many thousands of people all over the world. Amy's books are still being printed and sold, and still touch the hearts of her readers.

Here are a few of her many hundreds of wonderful poems.

His Footfall

Do we not hear Thy footfall, O Beloved,
    Among the stars on many a moonless night?
Do we not catch the whisper of Thy coming
    On winds of dawn, and often in the light
Of noontide and of sunset almost see Thee -
    Look up through shining air
And long to see Thee. O Beloved, long to see Thee,
    And wonder that Thou art not standing there?

And we shall hear Thy footfall, O Beloved.
    And starry ways will open, and the night
Will call her candles from their distant stations;
    And winds will sing Thee; noon, and mingled light
of rose-red evening thrill with lovely welcome.
    And we, caught up in air,
Shall see Thee, O Beloved, we shall see Thee -
    In hush of adoration see Thee there.
                                                       


 
Fire Words1

“O God, my words are cold:
The frosted frond of fern or feathery palm
Wrought on the whitened pane -
They are as near to fire as these my words;
Oh, that they were as flames!”
    Thus did I cry.

    And thus God answered me:
“Thou shalt have words, but at this cost:
That thou must first be burnt -
Burnt by red embers from a secret fire,
Scorched by fierce heats and withering winds that sweep
Through all thy being, carrying thee afar
From old delights. Doth not the ardent fire
Consume the mountain's heart before the flow
Of fervent lava? Wouldst thou easefully,
As from cool, pleasant fountains, flow in fire?
Say, can thy heart endure, or can thy hands be strong
In the day that I shall deal with thee?

“For first the iron must enter thine own soul,
And wound and brand it, scarring awful lines
Indelibly upon it; and a hand
Resistless in a tender terribleness,
Must thoroughly purge it, fashioning its pain
To power that leaps in fire.
Not otherwise, and by no lighter touch,
Are fire-words wrought.”



God of the Nebulae2

Lover of all, I hold me fast by Thee,
Ruler of time, King of eternity.
There is no great with Thee, there is no small,
For Thou art all, and fillest all in all.

The new-born world swings forth at Thy command;
The falling dewdrop falls into Thy hand.
God of the firmament's mysterious powers,
I see Thy hand thread the minutes of my hours.
                        

I see Thee guide the frail, the fading moon
That walks alone through empty skies at noon.
Was ever way-worn, lonely traveler
But had Thee by him, Blessed Comforter?

Out of my vision swims the untracked star;
Thy counsels, too, are high and very far,
Only I know, God of the nebulae,
It is enough to hold me fast by Thee.


                            
Lord Jesus, for me crucified,1
Let not my footsteps from Thee slide,
For I would tread where Thou hast trod -
My spirit tender of the glory of God.

That glory which meant all to Thee
Let it mean all, my Lord, to me;
So would I tread where Thou hast trod –
My spirit tender of the glory of God.



Make Me Thy Fuel2

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified)
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire;
Let me not sink to be a clod:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.
One of Amy's most controversy-inducing books is called, Things as they Are – Mission work in Southern India. It is a compilation of letters she had written to various people that friends urged her to make into a book which would reveal how things really were on the mission field (in South India at the least). Amy would not agree with those who wanted her to tell the people back in England of only the “glory stories”, the successes. She knew the blood, sweat and tears she and her fellow-workers had given to see very little obvious fruit for many years. She also knew that some of the so-called success stories were told before one really knew if a conversion was genuine, and that these stories caused people to sink into an apathy that the “missionaries are doing a fine job, so we can stay in our comfort”.

When Things as they Are was published, many wanted her to rewrite it in a more positive way. She refused. She had to tell the truth of the millions dying without having heard the gospel. Here are a few excerpts from that book that reveal her desperate heart for the Indian people, and for the Western people to join in her fight for souls.

Can we enjoy [life eternal with the Lord] all by ourselves? Will there be no sense of incompleteness if the many are outside, missing it all...Will the glory make us glad if they are somewhere far away from it and God? Will not Heaven be almost an empty place to the one who has never tried to fill it? Yet there is room, oh so much room, for those who we are meant to bring in with us! p55

But let us press it on you now – pray, oh, pray for the converts! Pray that they may grow in Christ...And pray that we may enter into that travail of soul with [Jesus]. Nothing less is any good. Spiritual children mean travail of soul – spiritual agony...It is a solemn thing to find oneself drawn out in prayer which knows no relief till the soul it is burdened with is born...Converts are a responsible joy. p39
    
Humdrum we have called the work, and humdrum it is. There is nothing romantic about potters except in poetry [she had just spent weeks trying to reach a young girl who worked as a potter], nor is there much of romance about missions except on platforms and in books. Yet “though it is dull at whiles”, there is joy in the doing of it, there is joy in just obeying. He said “Go, tell,” and we have come and are telling, and we meet Him as we “go and tell”.p24

It is true that the corpse of the dead [Indian] Church is dressed, just as it is at home, only here it is even more dressed; and because the spirit of the land is intensely religious, its grave clothes are vestments. But dressed death is still death.
    This will come as a shock to those who have read stories of this or that native Christian, and generalising from these stories, picture the Church as a company of saints. God has His saints in India, men and women hidden away in quiet places out of sight, and some few out in the front; but the cry of our hearts is for more. So we tell you the truth about things as they are, though we know it will not be acceptable, for the best is the thing that is liked best at home; so the best is most frequently written.p116    

The last quote, for me, encapsulates Amy's heart best. It describes the driving force behind her capacity for hard work, and shows the love that formed its foundation.

We shall have all eternity to celebrate the victories, but we have only the few hours before to sunset in which to win them. We are not winning them as we should, because the fact of the
reverses is so little realised, and the needed reinforcements are not forthcoming, as they would be if the position were thoroughly understood. Reinforcements of men and women are needed, but, far above all, reinforcements of prayer. And so we have tried to tell you the truth – the uninteresting, unromantic truth – about the heathen as we find them, the work as it is. More workers are needed. No words can tell how much they are needed, how much they are wanted here. But we will never try to allure anyone to think of coming by painting coloured pictures, when the facts are in black and white. What if black and white will never attract like colours? We care not for it; our business is to tell the truth. The work is not a pretty thing, to be looked at and admired. It is a fight. And battlefields are not beautiful.
    But if one is truly called of God, all the difficulties and discouragements only intensify the Call. If things were easier there would be less need. The greater the need, the clearer the call rings through one, the deeper the conviction grows: it was God's Call. And as one obeys it, there is the joy of obedience, quite apart from the joy of success. There is joy in being with Jesus in a place where His friends are few; and sometimes, when one would least expect it, coming home tired out and disheartened after a day in an opposing or indifferent town, suddenly – how, you can hardly tell – such a wave of the joy of Jesus flows over you and through you, that you are stilled with the sense of utter joy. Then, when you see Him winning souls, or hear of your comrades' victories, oh! All that is within you sings, “I have more than an overweight of joy!”p158-159

 
Her Inspiration to Us

Where am I to begin this section? The biographies about Amy Carmichael are not of the kind that leave one awestruck at her apparent perfection. When one reads the poetry and prose she wrote herself, one very quickly catches the heart of a lady who knew her weaknesses and imperfections only too well! But perhaps that leads me to the best place to start: she was not perfect, she was not a super-saint never troubled by doubts and fears, but she was available to God, she was fully surrendered to Him. In the midst of personal storms and very real emotion, Amy allowed God to have His way in and through her.

One day I felt the “I” in me rising hotly, and quite clearly – so clearly that I could show you the place on the floor of the room I was standing when I heard it – the word came, “See in it a chance to die.” To this day that word is life and release to me, and it has been to many others. See in this which seems to stir up all you most wish were not stirred up – see in it a chance to die to self in every form. Accept it as just that – a chance to die.1

Perhaps what strikes one most about Amy's life is her incredible, unstoppable work ethic. There was no job too lowly or difficult for her to do if God had asked her to do it.

Amma was very conscious of her own limitations, fancied or real. It was true humility and not its horrid travesty which made her write: “My working life until the children came had been spent almost entirely in what is usually called 'soul work,' and I was the last person in the world to be of any use where bodies and minds are concerned. But I had to tackle both, and felt very often that 'Jack of all trades, master of none' would be written on my tombstone...2


Amy did whatever was needed, and did not stop doing it unless poor health overcame her.
She lived in India for 56 years without any furlough. She knew the wisdom of bodily rest, but
her heart would not allow her to rest if there were children to be saved.

Amy knew how to love. In writing about how the “Sister's of the Common Life” (those women who joined her work and remained unmarried) should live their lives she says:

It is a life of love.

Let no least thought of unkindness move in me there. Let such a thought be impossible to me. Let it be intolerable. If I have given room to any least feeling of unlove, show me the seriousness of that sin. Break me down before Thy face because of it...Tenderness in judgment, the habit of thinking the best of one another, unwillingness to believe evil, grief if we are forced to do so, eagerness to believe good, joy over one recovered from any slip or fall, unselfish gladness in another's joys, sorrow in another's sorrow, readiness to do anything to help another entirely irrespective of self – all this and much more is included in that wonderful word love....Unlove is deadly. It is a cancer. It may slowly kill but it will always kill in the end. Let us fear it, fear to give room to it as we would fear to nurse a cobra. It is deadlier than any cobra...We owe it to the younger ones to teach them the truth that united prayer is impossible unless there be loyal love. If unlove be discovered anywhere, stop everything and put it right, if possible at once.1

In all her work, Amy kept prayer at the forefront of anything she endeavored to do.

Once she noted down “three facts that, if remembered, save time and energy in a prayer meeting”:

1.    We don't need to explain to our Father things that are known to Him.
2.    We don't need to press Him, as if we had to deal with an unwilling God.
3.    We don't need to suggest to Him what to do, for He Himself knows what to do.2

Finally, even in severe trials of physical weakness, Amy revealed a depth of love and character. This was a poem that strengthened her:

Two glad services are ours;
Both the Master loves to bless.
First we serve with all our powers -
Then with all our feebleness.

Nothing else the soul uplifts
Save to serve Him night and day,
Serve Him when He gives His gifts -
Serve Him when He takes away.
C. A .Fox

In September 1931, Amy's life changed radically after she fell, twisting her spine and breaking
her leg. Everyone thought she would make a speedy recovery, but she remained an invalid
for nearly twenty years until her death. This however, did not stop her service to God, it simply altered it slightly.

She wrote thirteen new books after October 1931...She was constantly writing verses which were given to the [Dohnavur] Family...I think it is true to say that God used her pen for more widespread and deeper spiritual blessing during the post-accident period than in all the preceding years.3

Amy suffered severe pain and discomfort for the rest of her life, but the books on suffering she wrote through this time are still a source of encouragement and strength to those suffering today.  

While she knew God was using her, Amy longed for Heaven.

A visitor with a serious heart condition told Amy that her doctor had said if she so much as bent over too suddenly she might die on the spot. “However do you resist the temptation?” Amy wanted to know. Death had held no terrors for the child who swallowed the laburnum pods in Millisle. It looked like a lark then. It looked positively blissful now. When Amy's doctor suggested in 1934 that she might not have more than five years, or even only three, before her Glory Day, Amy was elated. “You would not have said such a blissful thing lightly,” she wrote. “I know He might even now ask for longer than that five years, but that there is even a natural hope of that little while being enough, is purest golden joy...Only pray that He will 'take from me all slothfulness that I may fill up the crevices of time' and truly finish all He wants me to do.”  

 
Conclusion                        

Amy Carmichael had her Glory Day on the 18th January 1951. She did not die a martyr's death, but she lived a martyr's life. Reading her life story inspires one to give selflessly, unreservedly and constantly for the benefit of those who do not know our God and Saviour. It will truly be an honour to be in Heaven with this lady one day. Let me encourage you to read books about, and written by, Amy. The way she lived her life will change the way you live yours.







Bibliography

Carmichael, A. Things As They Are. London: Morgan and Scott, 1905.

Carmichael, A. Toward Jerusalem. CLC Publications, 1936.

Elliot, E. A Chance to Die. Revell, 1987.

Houghton, F. Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur. CLC Publications, 1979.