Sumatran Warrior: Mighty Man of Love and Courage

Copyright © 2016 Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah.

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Scripture taken from the Amplified Bible, copyright © 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

All Scripture quotations in this publications are from The Message. Copyright © by Eugene H. Peterson 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-3182-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3183-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3181-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016902718

WestBow Press rev. date: 5/16/2016

CONTENTS

Foreword

Introduction

Author's Message

SECTION ONE: 1935 -- 1949

Chapter 1 Dawn of Beginnings

Chapter 2 Early Sumatra Shadows

Chapter 3 Veiled Mysticism

Chapter 4 Adventures of Boys and Men

Chapter 5 Colonialism and Life

Chapter 6 Cross Roads to Surrender

Chapter 7 Separation and Sorrow

Chapter 8 Indonesia's Freedom Generation 1945

Chapter 9 Destiny's Doorway

SECTION TWO: 1949 - 1964

Chapter 10 Onboard Passage to Freedom

Chapter 11 Pieces of Who We Are

Chapter 12 Times to Remember

SECTION THREE: 1965 -- 1980

Chapter 13 One More Chance at Love

Chapter 14 Return to Indonesia

SECTION FOUR: 1981 -- 1991

Chapter 15 Sumatran Warrior Awakening

Chapter 16 Rise of the Sumatran Warrior

Chapter 17 Endurance of the Warrior

SECTION FIVE: 1991 -- 2011

Chapter 18 Sumatran Warrior's Quest

Chapter 19 Sumatran Warrior Set Apart

Chapter 20 Courage of the Warrior

Chapter 21 Sumatran Warrior's Hope

Chapter 22 Sumatran Warrior Evening Shadows

Chapter 23 Sumatran Warrior Life Rewarded

Last Words

Photo Collection : Life Journey Glimpses

My deepest

gratitude goes to all my family and friends in Indonesia and the United States, who have given in prayer, the editing process, additional technical help, and financial support, to ensure publication of this book. My profound thank you for your time and giving with this project, and making it become reality for God's glory.

~~~~~~~~~~

I dedicate this book to all the faithful co-workers and supporters of my vision for the Minangkabau people of West Sumatra, Indonesia of whom I will forever be a part. God brought us together for this purpose and season. Your hard work, courage and faithfulness is counted beyond this world.

To: Rehana, Sutan and Siti;

Tyson, Jerry, Ariani, and Anaya

My real purpose for writing this autobiography is not only as a testimony or witness of my life experiences, but especially to tell you about God's greatness. I openly share my story especially as a dedication to all of you as my children and grandchildren, to know and appreciate as well, the richness and greatness of your Minangkabau heritage. I hope you enjoy reading my words and will always remember that I love you

and pray that God will continually bless your own life journeys.

To me you are a greatest blessing in life.

Remember always, my favorite verses of Jeremiah 29:11-13.

With all my love,

Daddy

BABO

FOREWORD

As I was speaking to a large audience, one man's face kept catching my attention amidst the sea of faces. It was hard to take my eyes off him, because his face was so bright. Then I saw his smile. It was contagious. His family lovingly surrounded him. You could tell they were proud of their father. His name was Willy Amrull -- Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah.

After the service, I approached him and said, Something is up with you. You're glowing! I later found out from his family that he too felt a strong connection with me. The moment felt as if I had met my long lost brother, or father. I like to think for him, I may have been like a younger brother he ran with during the Indonesian Revolution. I was someone who understood some of his heart for the world, his dreams for a church without walls, his yearning for the world to know the love of Isa Almasih that he grew to love.

I had already met his wife and children. If he was like them, it would be an easy relationship. His wife Vera, strong, steadfast, compassionate, courageous and maternal in her presence, carries herself like royalty. Both of them have an authority filled with confidence but with such love, grace, tenderness and hope. It is unusual. As I have gotten to know the family, they all have a spirit like their parents.

Behind Willy's gentle face, I saw a strong man. I learned over the years that the most influential people are not necessarily loud. The quiet ones that are not seen, the ones who know how to move in and out of light and shadows, the ones who can be silent yet stir revolution, are few and live among us unnoticed. Willy Amrull (a.k.a. Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah) was one of these soft-spoken giants. He was a Sumatran Warrior but armed with a different type of weapon from his earlier days of the Indonesian Revolution.

His life was about waiting on God. Being able to hold back power is harder than just unleashing it. Willy embodied this type of life. Willy would take jobs that some consider beneath them, but Willy was on a quest where he dared to explore the unknown. He would do anything to find life. His journey overseas to countries around the world was part of his journey to taste a life that he yearned for and later found in Isa Almasih, Jesus the Messiah. That is why I think Isa became his pure obsession because nothing and no one filled his thirst for adventure and freedom like the Isa that met him personally. He chose Isa because nothing could bring as much inner joy and contentment, yet lead him into the adventure and fun that his soul naturally craved for since being a young boy in Indonesia.

I still remember a Saturday evening a few months after the moment I saw Willy glowing in church. I discovered that he had fallen ill. I did not know for sure if he was going to recover or if this battle would be his last. For some reason I felt an urgency to go see him immediately. So I gathered some little snacks that I thought he'd like, candy and some fruit.

I walked in to see him at his home where he was already in hospice care. His children told me he was not expected to live much longer. He was in the winter of his life here on earth. As I looked at him, his physical strength was failing, but he was still a man on fire. The glow remained. Looking back, it was probably because with each passing day the visitation of God was getting more evident to him, more real. Songs filled the room. Memories must have flooded his mind bringing joy and hope for the future he knew was bright for his family and his home country of Indonesia. He was a father wanting to pass on his spiritual inheritance.

He took my hand and smiled with the infectious smile that could light up a city. Tears filling his eyes and mine, we shared a few words, scriptures, songs, and prayed together. I will never forget that night. It would not be until I read this book, which is in your hand, that I grew to know Willy's entire story. He was a broken man who had been thrust in the furnace of criticism, ridicule, institutional attack, marginalization, abuse, homelessness, wandering, misunderstanding by those near and far, and even among the former Muslim followers of Isa Almasih -- Jesus Christ.

Willy loved Indonesia so much that he held back sharing his whole story till after he died, because he wanted to show respect to his Muslim Minangkabau family members. He did not want to embarrass them or bringing any shame to them. Even in lieu of the relentless requests for him to share his story widely, he knew there would be a day the unveiling of his journey would have the greatest impact. Today is that day!

While reading Willy's life story, I felt I could read between the lines. It was as if I was having a cup of tea with him, and he was openly sharing his life with me. Even during his pauses, I knew what his silence meant. I could feel his heart as I read each word. Reading this book changed me and you will be as well.

I got a taste of his love and respect for Indonesia, Muslims, and the Minangkabau people. His love for Isa Almasih, his Savior, drove him to places, people, pain, and pleasure few on earth will ever experience. I am sure his heart desire was that all would know this Isa Almasih whom he had encountered later in life. His personal relationship would bring him supernatural joy, life, love and freedom like no other.

As you read this book, you will catch Willy's passion and heart. If you do, Willy Amrull -- Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah -- will live on through you. You will receive this mantle of the Sumatran Warrior armed with the greatest weapon on the planet -- LOVE.

Willy, I thank you for your willingness to share your adventure. Thank you for sharing the glory and the suffering, the beauty and the brokenness. Few have more impact on earth after their death than when they lived. You are one of those chosen ones, beloved of God. You are one of the children of the King. Your children and others are carrying what you prayed for and dreamed about most. Your dream lives on!

I am looking forward to seeing your smile again someday soon.

Your brother,

Dave Gibbons

Lead Pastor

NEWSONG CHURCH Santa Ana, California, USA

INTRODUCTION

Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah was born in the village of Sungai Batang, Maninjau, West Sumatra, in Indonesia on June 7, 1927 as the youngest son of seven children. He spent his childhood in his native region of West Sumatra. His education began in 1934 in a Dutch colonial government school. Abdul Wadud later transferred to a school, which also focused more deeply on Islamic studies. His father, Dr. Haji Abdul Karim Amrullah, was a renowned and popular Islamic cleric, a reformist, and much-respected leader of the Gerakan Kaum Muda -- Youth Movement (a movement for Islamic reform in Minangkabau).

Abdul Wadud followed his father, when the Dutch colonial government exiled him to Sukabumi, West Java in 1941. He attended Sekolah Taman Siswa there, the school where he developed strong national pride for his country. The Japanese occupation of Indonesia ended the exile of his father in 1942, allowing them to move to Jakarta. Abdul Wadud continued his education there at Taman Siswa School by day and helped teach the Quran during evenings. Due to political conditions at that time, the educational system could not complete his insatiable desire for learning.

As turmoil continued in Indonesia, 18-year-old Abdul Wadud joined the API -- Angkatan Pemuda Indonesia (Youth Movement of Indonesia), and soon became group leader of an API Division. Under Abdul Wadud's leadership, this division's main task was to prevent the Netherlands/NICA soldiers from entering villages and suburbs of Jakarta.

After fighting in the Indonesian Revolution, Abdul Wadud's desire to seek experience abroad, made him willing to start by working onboard ship as a laundry man. In early 1949, Abdul Wadud left Indonesia and worked on ships with lines to major cities in countries around the world including the United States. At the end of 1950, he and several friends left their ship while in San Francisco, immediately finding temporary work in California farm fields. In 1952, Abdul Wadud accepted a position at the Indonesian Supply Mission in New York. He later transferred to the Indonesian Consulate in San Francisco, where he functioned as Public Relations Information Officer for almost twenty years.

While living in the United States, Abdul Wadud took on the name Willy Amrull, the name by which the majority of friends in the US knew him. In 1962, Willy Amrull founded the IMI--Ikatan Masyarakat Indonesia (Indonesian Community Center) which he led with activities for people of Indonesian heritage in America.

In 1977, he returned to Indonesia with his wife and children with intention that they be a good Muslim family. After being a devout Muslim for fifty-four years, Abdul Wadud made the decision to begin his life as a follower of Christ in 1981 while living on the island of Bali. Baptized in Jakarta, February of 1983, he, his wife and their three children, returned that same year to the United States. In 1983, Abdul Wadud entered Talbot Theological Seminary followed by Fuller Theological Seminary, both in California. He was ordained in 1989.

Realizing God wanted Him to reach out to a church without walls, he knew that he must obey, by returning to Indonesia and his beloved West Sumatra. His work among his own Minangkabau people began in 1995. For the last three decades of his life, Abdul Wadud faithfully served God in both Indonesia and the United States.

SUMATRAN WARRIOR: Mighty Man of Love and Courage, describes the singular journey of Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah. This journey brought Pastor Willy Amrull ultimately to the most beautiful peak of his lifetime, the full commitment of serving his Master with joy, love and courageous faith.

Wardhani Soedjono

Author

Jakarta, Indonesia

AUTHOR'S MESSAGE

In 2007, I took my last trip to West Sumatra, Indonesia, while in declining health. At that time, I had such a sense of happiness, joy and delight seeing abundant growth in the maturing faith of the Spiritual children, anak-anak Rohani I had left there a few years earlier. Witnessing what God had done for them encouraged me.

I knew after this particular trip that I would not be traveling so far again to see my beautiful Ranah Minang, land of the Minangkabau, where I was born. Through these circumstances, I realized that time had finally arrived for me to tell my story and write this book.

I thank God that this memoir was first published in Indonesia under the title DARI SUBUH HINGGA MALAM, (From Dawn Until Dusk). Suggestions to write this book came a long time ago, but I disregarded offers to publish because of issues I felt would develop if I shared my story prematurely. I believed it might become an obstacle for people who did not understand my purpose. It is my hope for readers to have wisdom and tolerance from deep within as I openly share my life's journey. It is my desire to give God all the glory through the recounts from birth until advanced age, as a legacy of faith for future generations. I thank all the friends in Indonesia and the US, who supported me, have prayed, assisted and provided me advice as this writing project developed.

With support of my beloved wife Vera, this book was completed. I feel blessed to have such a faithful wife who helped me gather and organize information for my writing of the manuscripts (Indonesian and English). I am grateful and endlessly proud of Vera. How thankful I am to God for giving me the best helpmate.

I am also grateful to my children and grandchildren. Through past years, they have experienced the adventures and challenges of life with me, in America as well as Indonesia. Without the trust and love of my family for me, none of this would have been possible. I am aware of their gift and that we have overcome much with God's love.

I have learned that even when our lives seem chaotic or out of control, all power remains in God's hand, and nothing can hinder Him. For me that was experiencing the Shadow of the Almighty, which I have felt through the years.

Finally, I wish every reader selamat membaca, happy reading. May you enjoy our time together as you walk with me through every page of this memoir. In addition, may God richly bless your own journey today and with every tomorrow!

Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah -- Willy Amrull

California, USA --

SOLDIER FOR THE CROSS

"You have your orders -- I send you to battle.

You are a soldier,

and I would not promise a soldier ease.

I promise you difficulty, but with it, resources and purpose and joy.

Go to where men die of thirst

a stone's throw from pure water...

go back as my water-bearer.

Quote from ~ Edge of Eternity by Randy Alcorn

(From: In Light of Eternity PERSPECTIVES on HEAVEN by Randy Alcorn)

SECTION ONE

1935 -- 1949

1

DAWN OF BEGINNINGS

"Run, Wadud, run, lakeh-lah pulang; darkness is falling! As I hastily dart forward, the terrifying voice shouts within me. Perspiration oozes down my face, neck, and back. I run as fast as my small feet can take me moving down the narrow village road. Hurry; go home quick, lakeh-lah pulang, before it is too late!"

Glancing upward every few moments, I can see the sky frightfully spewing its fiery glow over the waters of Danau Maninjau, the lake of my West Sumatra village. Casting ever-changing hues of red, swirling oranges, and glaring yellows over my lakeside village of Sungai Batang, it seems like the great vault of heaven has suddenly opened and is crashing down upon the earth. I am running toward home as fast as I can, thinking my life depends on it!

A red and yellow sky in my child-like thinking is like the flames of Neraka, Hades-blazing fires, which I had heard about during afternoon Muslim religious classes. In my mind, the end of the world is coming. I fear that if I am not home on time, I might not find Amak, my mother, there! Besides, if this really is the end of the world, I need to be safe at home and near my mother's presence. It is there I know I am safe, secure, and loved by her.

With the closing of this day, the flaming colors in the sky rapidly change. Nighttime is quickly falling upon my kampuang, my village of Sungai Batang where I was born. The year is 1935; I am a young boy, seven years old.

"Beyond all roads of adventures and oceans of experiences,

life travels to its ultimate destiny.

Along the way it brings hope and purpose,

planned by God long ago."

Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah

(From: Personal Journal)

In late October of 1948, amid the city's bustle and vehicle fumes, my friend Ahmad and I climb onto a bus that takes us through Jakarta streets busy with early morning traffic. With the sun already brightly shining and the tropical heat rising, we maneuver ourselves onboard the rickety old bus.

Together with countless others both seated and standing, we pass by horse-drawn delman, cart-like carriages, and three-wheeled becaks, most also carrying passengers. The bus strategically manages to weave through the chaos of automobiles, countless bicycles, and pedestrians precariously attempting to cross the busy streets.

Earlier that day, Ahmad had encouraged me to come along with him. He finally received news that he could take the required physical exam for a job on one of the large Dutch ships docked at Tanjung Priok Harbor. For that day's examination, ten men were expected. We arrive early at the harbor. Ahmad immediately walks toward the group of men already gathered and joins them in waiting for that day's roll call. A short distance away, I see a place for me to pass the time. I turn and cross toward it. After climbing atop a large wooden spool of coiled rope, I sit myself down along the waterfront edge.

I feel ocean breezes gently come my way, delivering balmy scents. Coming to our Indonesian shores from faraway places, these currents caress and awaken senses within me that deeply touch the core of my being. Sitting there, my mind races, bringing waves of questions I desperately need answered.

A wandering restlessness is set in motion within my soul. I only recently returned from fighting and the battlefield. Three years ago, at age eighteen, along with many of my friends, I too had passionately offered myself to the call of being part of Indonesia's revolution. Even now as I sit here, the struggle for independence and the duress in people's lives constantly remains. The battle of unceasing turmoil and the fight for freedom incessantly surround me. I wonder about the uncertainties of my own future and what lies ahead for me in Indonesia.

Silently I cry to Allah, God, what are you going to do with me now? What are you going to do with the country I have fought for? Frustration and restlessness continue building within me. With my gaze still out toward the ocean, I somewhat rebelliously express to Allah, I am tired of praying and trying to perfectly follow your commands! What are you going to do with my life, God?

The longing to see the world has been within me since the earlier days of my childhood in Sungai Batang, West Sumatra. Those days, however, seem far away with no return.

A commotion nearby suddenly interrupts my thoughts. It is the frantic voice of the shipping company's mandor darat, the shore agent. In desperation, he is calling out a name of one more person registered on the physical exam list.

The shore agent's voice becomes louder and shrill in pitch, as he approaches the water's edge where I am sitting. Having promised the shipping company a full roster of names, he knows he must do his job well in order to keep it. Thus, the shore agent's voice is rapidly rising along with his distress.

Realizing the situation, my reaction is swift. I jump down from where I am sitting and hurry toward the man. I respond to his calling, asking him if I could possibly take the missing man's place. While looking me up and down he asks, What experience do you have? Do you iron?

Knowing who the shore agent is and where he is from, I reply in the polite, soft-spoken Sundanese dialect I have learned, Yes, I am capable of what is required. In actuality, I have no experience at all in laundry room work. However, in that split second as the two of us intently look at one another, all uncertainties about my future somehow vanish. For in this moment during 1948, destiny's passage for me to see the world broadens as far and as wide as any ocean could possibly reach. I am twenty-one years old.

2

EARLY SUMATRA SHADOWS

God has given you this day, live it well from dawn till end.

For when it's said and passed, you will want some treasure that will last:

a memory of love, God's love and your own.

Alva Pingel

I had become aware of prayer at a very early age. During the month of Ramadhan, our month of fasting within the Muslim religion, it was my father's habit to rise each morning before dawn while staying at the kutubkhannah, his library located in nearby Muara Pauh, a short distance from Sungai Batang. On these early mornings, Ayah, my father, would go to the water's edge of Lake Maninjau, which was close to the library. There he would step into one of the small fishing canoes tied up at the lakeshore and then slowly row out, his lips moving in constant silent recitation of verses from the Quran, our religion's holy book.

During special religious times, Ayah would remain at his library for prayer, writing and teaching. He would later leave his kutubkhannah and return home to be with us at the main house, only a mile or so from his library. Even then, it was still his habit to awaken early and be completely absorbed on reflections of Allah, God Almighty.

Echoing in the dawn, the slow deep reverberating beats and then faster rhythms of the beduk (drum) followed by muezzin -- a single voice atop the minaret from the mesjid, a mosque -- not far from our home, announced the call for Subuh, early morning prayers to our community. The voice resonated through the morning air, ushering in the dawn of each new day.

ALLAHU AKBAR, ALLAHU AKBAR!

God is great, God is great!

HAIYA'ALASSALAH, HAIYA'ALASSALAH!

Let us pray, let us pray!

As usual, in Minangkabau manner, I would be sleeping on the floor of our great room outside my parent's bedroom. Welcoming the day, Ayah would come out to where I lay sleeping. He would stop and softly snap his fingers several times, quietly calling out my name. I would hear him whisper, "Dud, Wadud, jago-lah sembahyang, Dud, Wadud, come; it's time to pray."

I remember the sound of Ayah's feet stepping through the house. I would get up and follow him as he went to prepare with wudhu, the Islamic cleansing ritual of washing face, hands, and feet with water before recitation of prayers. As if not a moment has passed since those early days of my childhood, the image of my father, who he was, and his love for me remain in the corridor of my memories.

I was born in the village of Kubu, Sungai Batang, Maninjau, West Sumatra, Indonesia, on June 7, 1927 (6 Zulhijjah 1345 H). I did not know the actual date of my birth until 1952, after my brother Abdul Malik recovered this information from one of our father's journals. My parents gave me the name Abdul Wadud Karim Amrullah, and I am the youngest child among the seven children of Dr. Haji Abdul Karim Amrullah. My father was an ulema, a Muslim scholar, and one of the leaders of the Gerakan Kaum Muda, a popular youth movement held in high regard for the reformation and modernization of Islam in Minangkabau.

My mother, whose name was Siti Hindun, was my father's second wife. Ayah never divorced my mother as he did other wives through the years. Amak belonged to the suku Malayu, people clan, while my father's suku was Jambak. Within the Minangkabau culture, our society is matrilineal; thus, I followed my mother's lineage of her suku Malayu.

Even though I am the youngest of my father's seven children, my mother had also previously given birth to two other daughters, both of whom died while they were very small. My other brothers and sisters were children from three other wives. The oldest was Fathimah, a daughter with Ayah's first wife Raihanah, who passed away in Mecca while Ayah studied there. Then there were Abdul Malik (Hamka), Abdul Kuddus, Asma, and Abdul Mu'thi -- all four children from Ayah's third wife, Safiyah. A son Abdul Bari was born ten years prior to my own birth, and was the child from my father's fourth wife Rafi'ah. Even though my six other siblings were from different mothers, within the Minangkabau culture we are not considered half brothers and sisters because we are all from the same father by birth.

Throughout the Minangkabau region, my father was well known and highly respected. Many called him, Inyiek De ER or Haji Rasul. (The word Rasul means a messenger from God, one who receives revelation of scripture.) Through the years, my father married twelve times. Ayah married my mother after his first wife, Raihanah, died in Mecca.

Two wives he never divorced. One was my mother Siti Hindun who remained married to him for thirty-eight years until her death. Our Muslim religion permitted him four wives simultaneously. However, my father always made certain to divorce, so as not to have too many wives at one time. When I was still small, during the Muslim fasting month of Ramadhan, I remember my father would not rotate his turns of staying with each wife, as was the custom of Minangkabau men who had two or more wives. However, during my childhood, both his wives were Amak, my mother, and my stepmother Dariyah, who I called Etek. Ayah did not have any children with Etek who lived in Kampung Tangah, a village several miles from the kutubkhannah, library, in Muara Pauh, where it was easiest for my father to stay.

Because Ayah remained at his library throughout the puasa fasting period every year, he always woke up during these times at about three o'clock in the morning before Subuh prayer to go out and fish quietly by himself. I later learned that even before I was born, my father used his library for praying and teaching during each year's fasting month of Ramadhan. Since he did not have to rotate visits with other wives who lived further away, it was simpler for him to stay in Muara Pauh. When I was still small, both Amak and my stepmother Etek would sometimes come there together during the fasting month. Both would bring their specially prepared delicacies for buka-puasa, the breaking of fast. I would come along with my mother, and if we remained for the night, all of us would sleep in one large bed. I do not think it was for any particular reason, but I remember that my stepmother would rest on my father's right side, while my mother would be on Ayah's left. I would be soundly sleeping on my mother's left side nearest the wall.

As I was growing up, I often heard that my mother was always the person helping influence my father in choosing his new wives. Two of her strongest criteria regarding the women were that they had to be beautiful and be virgins, since her husband was a person of prominence known as orang jemputan, a worthy person sought after in Minang tradition. My father often received marriage proposals. The parents of potential brides were always very willing and proud to have an ulema, Muslim scholar, join their family.

When allowed by my mother, I very much liked staying with Ayah at his library. As I grew older, I would lie on the floor on my stomach. My head resting on propped hands, knees bent and soles of my feet upward; I enjoyed this position while looking through publications with pictures. I usually had the companionship of one of Ayah's cats beside me. My father would be nearby preparing his teaching materials. This image of contentment remains forever in my mind.

CHILDHOOD HOPES... In the days before starting school, my father often took me with him to Padang Panjang where he lectured at several schools. At that time both of my cousins, Salimah and Halimah (daughters of my aunt Jamilah), were studying at Diniyah School where Ayah was also one of the lecturers. As we traveled to Padang Panjang, the hired car typically provided for my father stopped in the town of Matur. Here we would lunch at our favorite restaurant specializing in Minang food. Each time, I very much enjoyed the treats of my favorite spicy dishes.

Sometimes Amak came along with us. It was during one of these occasions she went to the pasar, an open-air market place to do her shopping and had me come with her. We usually