Palau

A Life on Fire

Luis Palau, Paul J. Pastor

• Publisher: Zondervan
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9780310354062
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religious Biographies

Join Luis Palau, one of the world's most influential religious leaders, as he shares his legacy in this one-of-a-kind memoir packed with guiding principles that will spark in you a fiery faith to live out the good news of Jesus Christ.

Tracing his faith journey from his humble beginnings on the streets of Buenos Aires, Argentina, to sharing the good news with millions and counseling world leaders, Luis's life was filled to the brim with adventure, risk, and faith. With never-before-told stories and a breathtaking sixteen-page photo insert, Luis recounts how:

• He cared for his mother and five siblings after losing his father at a young age
• As a teenager, he heard Billy Graham speak and decided to follow in his footsteps
• He came to find friendship and support from Mr. Graham later in life
• He was brought to the United States by a faith-filled pastor named Ray Stedman from Palo Alto, California
• The Lord blessed, challenged, and guided Luis and his team into some of the most exciting evangelistic campaigns the world has ever seen

In each chapter, Luis shares a foundational lesson that influenced his life and will inspire and challenge your faith. From his mother's indomitable trust in God to the quiet heroes who touched and saved Luis's family, you'll discover the message that echoes throughout his powerful story: that the gospel of Jesus is good news shared by humble, even unseen, servants of God.

Praise for Palau:

"It's obvious God has used Luis in a great way to fulfill His purpose for the Kingdom. I thank him for modeling that which matters most--transforming our world by changing lives through the abundant life found in Christ."

--Rick Warren, New York Times bestselling author of The Purpose Driven Life

"Words cannot express the deep appreciation I have for Luis and the fine work God has called him to do. His faithfulness in proclaiming God's glorious gospel across racial, cultural, and geographical lines has been nothing short of praiseworthy."

--Tony Evans, pastor, speaker, and bestselling author

CHAPTER 1

Seek First the Kingdom

My Mother, Matilde Balfour de Palau

Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness,

and all these things will be given to you as well.

MATTHEW 6:33

I was born in Argentina, in a humble town full of proud people.

Ingeniero Maschwitz is its name. In its day, “Maschwitz” was classy, a weekend home for people eager to get out of the stifling capital city. But time has not been kind to the little town. Gradually, the buildings’ paint has faded and peeled, and the weekend visitors stopped coming out so often. Back then, Buenos Aires was forty-five minutes away . . . and seemed farther.

There was a paved highway between us and the big city, but the streets I played on were mostly dirt, shaded from the hot sun by wide-spreading trees. I learned to know what time it was by the noises and whistles of the train, which was only a few blocks from our home, even though as a child it seemed miles away.

I was the firstborn to my parents, the only boy of six children. Our home life was very happy, full of laughter and the smell of good food, coffee, and mate, the hot green tea that Argentines love to sip through bombillas—silver straws with a strainer at the far end. (I never cared for mate.)

My parents set the foundation for my life. They did this in many ways, but none were more important than their heartfelt and unwavering commitment to the Gospel. For Luis and Matilde Palau, the Good News of Jesus was something to be preached and lived, proclaimed on the street corners and demonstrated by love at home.

I am starting with my mom because she was with us children longer. The greatest lesson I learned from my mother was a complete trust in God, even amid radically changing and unpleasant circumstances. Her trust and joy in the Lord was like a “house built upon the rock.” When the storms and floods came, they were not cast down.

But more on those storms later. My life was warm and happy as a young child. When I was born, we were well off. By the standards of that day, we were not extravagantly rich, or even ritzy by today’s American upper-middle-class standards, but my father had done very well for us.

Our family had a maid who cleaned and helped with the cooking, nannies for the children, and a driver for my mother, as she did not drive. We lived comfortably and happy. I remember warm Christmases, which we celebrated in the European style, complete with a trimmed evergreen tree. My dad always surprised us. Candies and treats abounded. One year I was given a bicycle—quite a gift! Another time I received a pony, complete with a sharp cowboy outfit for the new gaucho in the Palau family. The pony soon died, however. And what a fuss I made! I’m afraid I was a bit of a pain.

Other than school and my father’s business, our life was completely centered on church, worship, evangelism, and work. Most of our neighbors in the town saw us as symbols of evangelical faith, which in that day was not welcomed by many of our nominally Roman Catholic neighbors.

There is a photo of me, long haired and diapered—two years old, perhaps—peering through the slats of our fence at a religious procession stopped in the street in front of our house. The more devout folks of the town would hold a yearly parade for the feast day of the Virgin of Luján. Today, Catholics think of us evangelicals more fondly—as “separated brethren”—but that day they made a point of halting for ten or fifteen minutes in front of the Palau residence, carrying a statue of the Virgin Mary in triangular robes of blue and white, her gentle face peeping out from beneath a golden crown. By the time they got to us, they had carried the image all over town, singing a slowly rolling dirge-like hymn:

O Maria, Madre mia,

O consuelo del mortal.

They meant well, but to my little ears it sounded like a dead hymn. As I grew older, I wanted to call out to them, “Come on, don’t you have any happier songs than that?”

The Palau family had not always been on that side of the fence. Only a few years earlier, my mother had been the organist for the Roman Catholic parish church. Perhaps that is why the more traditional religious people of our little town made a point of stopping.

My mother’s father was Scotch Presbyterian and constantly referred to himself as one. “Don’t worry about me, sonny,” he’d say smugly if a missionary approached him. “I’m all right—Scotch Presbyterian!” In his mind, that ended the conversation. (I have often remarked to my friends that he liked the Scotch better than the Presbyterian.)

Though my grandfather’s faith appeared nominal, my mother’s mother was devout in a way I suspect only French Catholic grandmothers can be. She was decidedly not Scotch Presbyterian. My grandmother once promised the Virgin to walk on her knees for three kilometers on the Virgin’s feast day if Mary kept my uncle Jackie from being pressed into military service. Ridiculous, you know? But she did it, and she bled. But she fulfilled her promise. In later years she came to know the Lord more fully. “I doubt the Virgin Mary even heard me!” she commented later.

Like my grandmother, my mother’s faith was heartfelt. But it failed to bring her peace and left her seeking something more. By the time she was pregnant with me, she was experiencing a quiet crisis.

One day a polite knock sounded at the front door, and as the Lord would have it, my mother was home to answer it. How I praise God for that! On the step was a sharply dressed British man with a fine-looking book in one hand and a heavy walking stick in the other. “Buenos Dias, Senora,” he said. “Would you like a copy of the Word of God?”

I do not know if my mother had ever owned a Bible, but she took the one that the British gentleman handed her, thanked him politely, and closed the door. She looked at the book, a very nice copy of the New Testament in Spanish. She began to read. The feelings that were pent up for so long began to overwhelm her. She had been unable to find what her soul craved—peace. She had done good works and served in church. She had made promises to God. She was a faithful worshiper at Mass. She confessed regularly to her priest. And yet, despite it all, something was still missing. She did not have peace.

There is an old Spanish hymn that brings me to tears even today as I sit nearly seven thousand miles from the old house in Maschwitz. My voice cannot finish it without breaking. In English, it runs like this:

Peace with God, I tried to find it

With feverish desire.

But my meritorious work

Did not give me health.

O, what peace

The Lord gives us!

That so perfectly sums up my mother’s search. She began to read the New Testament the man had given her. So deep was her reverence for Jesus, even in her searching, that she read it on her knees, knowing it to be holy. After only a few chapters in the Gospel of Matthew, she came to the Beatitudes, that most famous sermon of Jesus that begins in Matthew 5.

“Bienaventurados,” she read, “los de limpio corazón: porque ellos verán á Dios.”

“Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.”

She read this verse of blessing, full of beauty from the mouth of Jesus. She read it and despaired. It was as if the book was speaking to her. That’s it, she thought, I will never see God. I know that I do not have a pure heart.

But as she was praying, she felt something strange. She felt that the Lord who had said those words was speaking to her. My daughter, she felt Him speak inside, you are mine. You are forgiven. She suddenly remembered the words of John the Baptist that the priest would quote at the Mass: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” She knew, in a sudden flood of joy, that this Lamb was for her! She saw Him! He had come to take the sin of Matilde!

She put it all together for the first time there on her knees. She wept, she told me later, as the Holy Spirit moved her. The lack of peace, the sense of overwhelming impurity in her heart—they should not lead her to despair! They should point her to the Lamb! Her fears—I will never find peace with God, and I will never be forgiven—were overcome by that simple reminder: Behold the Lamb of God. . . . Behold the Lamb of God.

And she felt peace and joy and love. Finally, she found rest, the very thing she had so feverishly desired.

Overjoyed, my mother went to find the well-dressed man who’d given her the New Testament. His name was Mr. Edward Charles Rogers. She asked him if she should leave the Catholic church. “No, no! Stay there,” he urged. “Keep playing the organ for them. Tell your friends what you’ve experienced. Tell them how the Lord has brought peace to your heart. Many of them are probably still searching for what you have found. Then, in the evenings, come join our Bible meetings in our little chapel.” And that is what she did.

I was in her womb when she was converted. Before I was born, she prayed, Lord, I want him to be a preacher of the Gospel. And that seems to have worked out! She told many stories like this as I grew up, which reinforced in me the feeling that first came in boyhood—before I fully knew what it meant to be a Christian! Luis, I felt inside, you’ve been called to preach the Gospel. You’d better do it!

This prayer of hers, even as such a young believer, shows the pure sincerity of her seeking. The same quiet commitment that made her search for inner peace, even though all the trappings of outward religion had been hers, now motivated her to a constant, deep spiritual life that overflowed for her husband, children, and neighbors.

My mom almost loved me to excess! Life was great. I felt like a good boy. Mom enthusiastically applauded everything her children did. I remember learning to read and her ringing praise: “Oh! So young, and he can read so well!” On and on. Perhaps it spoiled me a bit, but I had no doubt how much she loved me.

My mother centered her life on God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I can hear her voice still, hushing in prayer, rising in praise. She read the Bible constantly, almost always on her knees like she had from the beginning. She quoted many verses to us from memory, and she insisted that we memorize the verses we were given in Sunday school.

She emphasized Scripture memorization for children. For me, helping children learn and memorize the Word is a big deal, and that comes straight from my mom. Our Sunday school would give us little prizes for memorizing the weekly verses. The class would repeat the verse together, and if someone didn’t know it, the class would help them out. It was fun, and we were so proud when we learned the passages. The promises of those verses stuck with me. Back then, they were powerful. Today, those verses have the strength of promises fulfilled.

Of the many verses that my mother loved, one sums up perfectly the lesson that she taught me: “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:33).

What a simple promise. But how profound! All the things we worry about—what we will eat, drink, and wear—will be supplied by God as ...

Table of contents

• Contents
• Preface
• Introduction
• 1. Seek First the Kingdom: My Mother, Matilde Balfour de Palau
• 2. Give Everything to God: My Father, Luis Palau Sr.
• 3. Lift High the Light: The Good News of Mr. Charles Rogers
• 4. The Freedom of a Father: Ray Stedman and the Joyful Strength of the Gospel
• 5. The Secret Fire: Major Ian Thomas and the Secret of the Indwelling Christ
• 6. Living Sacrifice: My Wife, Patricia Scofield de Palau
• 7. Under the Mighty Hand: The Humility of Billy Graham
• 8. So Much Better Than Alone: The Luis Palau Association Team
• 9. No Greater Joy: My Sons, Kevin, Keith, Andrew, and Stephen Palau
• 10. Bless the Nations: The Beautiful Unity of the Church
• 11. Be Not Afraid: Delighting in God in the Face of Death
• 12. Look to the Future: The Hope of Things to Come
• Epilogue: A Life on Fire
• Acknowledgments
• Photos