The Missionary's One-Room Fortress

On a moonless night in 1862, missionary John G. Paton crouched inside his small mission house on the island of Tanna in the New Hebrides. Outside, hostile warriors surrounded the dwelling, their torches flickering through the gaps in the walls. They had already killed his colleague, and Paton knew he had no weapons, no reinforcements, no ship coming to rescue him.

He had nothing but a name.

All through that endless night, Paton prayed aloud, calling on the name of the Lord — Jehovah, his protector, El Shaddai, the God Almighty who had called him to those islands. His mission house had no fortifications, no barred gates, no thick stone walls. By every military calculation, he should have been dead before sunrise.

When dawn broke, the warriors withdrew. They simply turned and walked away. Months later, when the chief who had led the siege came to faith in Christ, Paton asked him why they had left that night. The chief looked puzzled. "Who were all those men with you?" he asked. "We saw hundreds of tall soldiers in shining garments standing guard around your house."