Kotlowski Enterprises New Products

Romance Me - Poetry Collection

$1.00

Revival Flames in Southern Seas: A study of the life and work of Samuel Leigh

$16.95

A study of the life and work of Samuel Leigh (1785–1852) and how he lit the match for revival in Australia, New Zealand and the South Sea Islands. Excerpt from Revival Flames in Southern Seas:

Man-eating Maoris

New Zealand’s Bay of Whangaroa was definitely a place to avoid. Even among the Maoris, these natives there were known as the ‘man-eating tribe’. It was there, in 1809, the ship Boyd had foundered, to be destroyed by the natives, who then killed and ate seventy crew and passengers. Only four escaped to tell the story. This notorious bay was twenty miles from the Church Missionary Society (CMS) base at Bay of Islands, where Wesleyan missionary Samuel Leigh was staying. Leigh was looking for a suitable location for a Wesleyan base. He had heard of several populous villages near the Whangharei Harbor, south of Whangaroa, where there was little threat of Europeans being attacked. He hired a fishing boat and, with five natives, left to examine the more friendly part of the country. As night approached a storm came up, driving them out to sea, the strong winds and massive waves carrying them out of sight of land. The natives became despondent and afraid. They lay down in the bottom of the boat and left it to Leigh to manage the sail alone. Finally, near midnight, as the moon rose, they could see land again. But rather than Whangerei, where they had been heading, it proved to be Whangaroa. This was the last place to spend the night but, because of the foul weather, Leigh was forced to land. With no choice, they would have to risk seeking protection from the harbour-dwelling head hunters. As they were asleep at that hour, Leigh fired off his muskets to let them know they had arrived—and that they were armed. At the sound, the natives jumped up and hurried to the shore to defend themselves. Leigh asked for the chief, told him of their disastrous voyage and begged for a hut where they could stay the night. Leigh and his five companions crawled into the hut and quickly fell asleep but after a short time Leigh awoke with a start: a native was pulling on his legs. Soon all five were awake, quaking with fear. The clamour outside was hideous. One of Leigh’s men told him they were quarrelling about the time they intended to roast and eat them tomorrow. Leigh was so exhausted he was indifferent to life or death. He merely replied, ‘They cannot touch us without the permission of the white man’s God, and I am sure he has not, as yet, consented to us being killed or eaten: lie still and sleep’. He himself slept till eight o’clock next morning. Leigh arose and ate breakfast from some provisions he had from the boat. Then he went outside the hut and read the Scriptures and prayed, while surrounded by one hundred and fifty natives, who had worked themselves up into a frenzy. He felt distinctly uneasy. He wanted to run, but that was absurd. What was he to do? He knew it was important that he remain calm and appear self-confident, and that the slightest indication of fear or haste would be the signal for his instant destruction. Noticing that some natives were preparing to attack and others to release their boat, Leigh felt to ask Chief Tara (also called George, it seemed) if he would step into the boat with him. Would he be kind enough to show them more of their spacious harbour? George agreed. After sailing a short distance they saw the remains of the ship, Boyd, and the Chief told Leigh, with some delight, the bloodthirsty story. After sailing with George for a while longer, not a little apprehensive where this might be leading, Leigh returned to the shore and started walking towards the village with George. A crowd of natives was rushing towards him, spears raised and brandishing clubs. It was definitely time to leave. Leigh turned and headed back towards the boat, but the savages were almost upon him. The Chief stood by and looked on, doing nothing to stop them. Leigh realized it was escape or die (Pages 2-3). Alexander Strachan, Remarkable Instances in the Life of the Rev. Samuel Leigh: Missionary to the Settlers and Savages of Australia and New Zealand (London: James Nichols, 1855), pp.164-5.

Southland Of The Holy Spirit

$23.95

Endorsements

Our important Christian heritage in Australia has been kept a secret. It has been censored in our education system, the media and society. Elizabeth Kotlowski has provided an invaluable service to our nation at this critical point in our history . . .May God use this inspiring historical record to inspire the Christians of Australia to renew Australia through the power of the Holy Spirit, as ‘One Nation Under God’.

Rev. Fred Nile, M.L.C. Parliamentary Leader, Call to Australia Christian Party

Where was this book when I was learning about Australian history? How come in primary school history, I did not learn of the marvelous provision made to us of a constitution that protects the individual from the injustices so prevalent in the nations that do not have the lawful restraints over the power brokers? This may well be one of the most significant books written about Australia this century.

Tom Hallis, Youth with a Mission, Director of South East Asia and Pacific

In these days when most writers go out of their way to avoid the influence of religion, Dr. Kotlowski makes it very clear that some of our greatest achievers were pioneers motivated by their Christian faith. Her chapters on John Flynn and Caroline Chisholm are prime examples. Australia needs more books like this.

Rev. Dr. Gordon G. Powell, Christian Author

The underlying hypothesis of this book is that Australia was founded as a Christian nation with a God-given destiny. Elizabeth Kotlowski challenges its readers to see God’s hand at work in the events that have shaped the history of this country. . . . It includes a valuable collection of data on the early story of Christian endeavour and has an extremely useful section outlining the early history of schooling in this country.

Rev. Robert J. Frisken, President, Christian Community Schools

Excerpts

Southland of the Holy Spirit: A Christian History of Australia

A typical school day at Johnson's school started at a quarter to nine with the tolling of the church bell to alert children that school was starting in fifteen minutes. On the stroke of nine, the children solemnly walked in, under the stern eye of the head teacher from the rostrum. A few early birds got window seats, while the little ones perched precariously on the adult-size rough wooden benches, with their legs dangling. The two assistant teachers ushered their classes to the corners of the building, as far apart as possible since there were no walls to separate classes. Each teacher had a box for his canes, textbooks, paper, quills, slates, ink-powder and soft lead pencils. In the absence of blackboards and steel nibs, the writing instructor spent much time in sharpening quills (made from magpie feathers) and in demonstrating how to keep the points sharp. The children dipped their quills into home-made ink as they wrote on scraps of paper, "Schools, independent:administration" \r "bk0" which was expensive at one pound for a ream of foolscap. The alphabet was scratched on framed squares of wet sand or on tiles. In the infant colony, all school supplies were in short supply and had to be requisitioned through the government stores. A typical order included "slates purchased at 4d. each, lead pencils at 3d., quills at 1s. for twenty, and ink-powder at 3d. a packet"Johnson had brought 150 copies of Dixon's Speller with him. Besides the ABC's and selected syllables, it included prose excerpts with religious and moral content, as well as the basics of grammar, punctuation, geography and history. The spellers were part of a package of 4000 books donated by the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge (SPCK) "Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge (SPCK)" and sent out with the First Fleet, and shipped and stored at government expense. Other school supplies included Prayer Books, Psalters, New Testaments and Bibles, as well as tracts with such cautionary titles as: Exercises Against Lying, Dissuasions from Stealing, and Exhortations to Chastity. After mastering the speller, the student moved to the primer which included the Creed, the Lord's Prayer and the Ten Commandments. Textbooks included only occasional pictures. Writing samples were prepared by the masters, while popular arithmetic texts were Walkinham's Arithmetic and Thomas Dilworth's The Schoolmaster's Assistant. The lower grades cut their teeth on addition and subtraction exercises (of pounds, yards, gallons and leagues). More meaty problems for the upper grades included: "What is the Root of this Squared Square-Cube: 10279563944029090291760398073856" (pages 123 to 24)?

And

What a feast they had that night! Eyre observed: For once Wylie admitted that his belly was full. He commenced by eating a pound and a half of horse-flesh, and a little bread; he then ate the entrails, paunch, liver, lights, tail, and two hind legs of the young kangaroo; next followed a penguin, that he found dead upon the beach. Upon this he forced down the whole of the hide of the kangaroo after singeing the hair off, and wound up this meal by swallowing the tough skin of the penguin; he then made a little fire, and laid down to sleep, and dreamt of the pleasures of eating, nor do I think he was ever happier in his life than at that moment (page189).

Let The Children

$23.95

Endorsements

Let the Children discusses the passion of the Holy Spirit to use children. Once he touches them, they will never be the same. This book is about giving children an opportunity to experience the life-changing manifest presence of God, which is a pre-requisite to equipping and releasing them to do the works of Jesus. The book looks at how God has worked through children in revivals throughout history, and what the Holy Spirit is doing through children around the world today. It challenges parents and the church to make the discipleship of children their number one priority, and to give the children their rightful place in the Body of Christ. Elizabeth, thank you, on behalf of children and children’s ministries, for writing this book. Many people are going to be encouraged and blessed by it.

Rev Darrin Clark, Children’s Pastor, Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship

I thoroughly believe in this fabulous book! I truly identify with Elizabeth’s passion to make way for God’s young warriors.

Esther Ilnisky, Founder Esther Network International Children’s Global Prayer Movement, and author of Let the Children Pray

My first meeting with Elizabeth Kotlowski was unforgettable. Here was an educated articulate woman whose conversation was passionate, heavily punctuated with stories about children and their place in God’s kingdom. Read the book and she will look you straight in the eye and ask ‘What about the children?’

Pastor Ray Carter, Tuggarah Lakes Christian Fellowship, Tumbi Umbi, New South Wales, Australia

I am delighted to see the first twelve years of the Children’s Prayer Network on public record in this book. We are experiencing amazing things as God works through this current generation. I thank Elizabeth for responding to God’s call to record this. I can’t WAIT to have this book in my hands!

Jane Mackie, Founder and Coordinator of the Children’s Prayer Network, Australia.

Excerpts

Jane commented, “Since this encounter in the prayer room, there has been a radical difference in the kids’ worship. Passion seems to be the key. They have become passionate worship warriors. Teenage boys with broken squeaky voices now lead worship with a confidence and authority that is amazing. There is definitely now a new anointing—worship warrior anointing. Building on that, we are now moving into prophetic worship. Everything has gone to a new level. The children were passionate before but now they are more so.”

Timothy (18) said, “It was quite personal—an ongoing thing. I felt broken, like God counted every hair on my head. It birthed a new passion, a realization of God’s standards—to be holy without compromise. I read Keith Green’s biography. I’m living out Romans 12: 1, 2. It felt like a transformation of my mind; it was a turning point in how to live a holy life before God—having a passion for God. In a practical way, that means living like God is looking over my shoulder. He knows every thought and word, and how we relate to each other.”

Russell (19) said, “It birthed in me a deep passion for worship, an intense fire; I want much more of God. It opened me up; I felt vulnerable, opening myself up more and more. God called me to sing things out. I gave up my inhibitions and the fear of man was gone. There was an explosion inside me. God was so close. Often kids do not feel free to worship God. He is calling us to break out to enter into the Holy of Holies. This is the way to do it. Let go. Fear of man is not good (95). and Central Africa: A doctor wrote: One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do, she died, leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We knew we would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator).

We also had no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst (rubber perishes easily in tropical climates). “And it is our last hot water bottle!” she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.

“All right,” I said, “put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm.” The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle, and that the baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. During prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. “Please, God,” she prayed, “Send us a hot water bottle today. It’ll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon.” While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added, “And while you are about it, would you please send a dolly for the little girl so she’ll know you really love her?”

As often with children’s prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, “Amen?” I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that he can do everything; the Bible says so. But there are limits, aren’t there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator! Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses’ training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel.

I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas—that would make a batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the . . . could it really be? I pulled it out. Yes, a brand new, rubber hot water bottle! I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that he could.

Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, “If God has sent the bottle, he must have sent the dolly too!” Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted! Looking up at me, she asked, “Can I go over with you and give this dolly to that little girl, so she’ll know that Jesus really loves her?”

Of course, I replied! That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sunday School class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God’s prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child, five months before, in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it “that afternoon.” “Before they call, I will answer”—Isa.65:24 (pages 125-27).

Stories Of Australia's Christian Heritage

$14.95

Endorsements

From the proclamation of Australia as the ‘Southland of the Holy Spirit’ in 1606 to Alfred Deakin, the co-author of Australia’s Constitution, God’s hand has decisively shaped the destiny of our country. Among them were: Many people think that Australia has always been a secular, godless place. But at every turn in our history men and women of faith have laid a godly foundation and built a rich Christian heritage. Among them were: Richard Johnson, chaplain to the First Fleet, building a church with his own hands . . . Explorer Charles Sturt, nearly dead in the heat of Central Australia, praying to the ‘fountain of All Mercy’ . . . Caroline Chisholm fighting off rats in 1840s Sydney, promising God she would ‘surrender all comfort’ to serve impoverished immigrant girls . . . John Flynn, sitting with outback families and dreaming of bringing ‘flying doctors’ to the vast Inland . . . This collection of short, easy-to-read stories reveals our well-known pioneers, explorers and statement who have been God’s instruments for establishing a nation based on Christian principles.

Excerpts

Sturt was a man of courage, faith and prayer. He kept a journal in which he wrote about his faith and how he took all his plans, difficulties and sorrows to the Lord in prayer. "Sturt, like most Australian explorers faced with a hostile environment, leaned hourly on God's mercy." At night he slept with a Bible that had belonged to his father-in-law under his pillow. When he had to throw away most of his possessions in the desert, he kept his Bible in preference to an oil lamp. Through his devout practices Sturt found wisdom and strength to endure, and peace in times of danger. On 10 November 1829 Sturt set out on a second expedition to find the mouths of the Darling and Murrumbidgee Rivers. Humbly committing the safety of his party to the protection of Almighty God, Sturt noted in his journal: Something more powerful than human foresight or human prudence, appeared to avert the calamities and dangers with which I and my companions were so frequently threatened; and had it not been for the guidance and protection we received from the Providence of that good and all-wise Being to whose care we committed ourselves, we should, ere this, have ceased to rank among the number of His earthly creatures (page 71). And Although the Governor discouraged her plans, Caroline persevered: after several interviews he agreed to let her use an old government building. The Immigration Barracks could become her proposed home on the condition she did not put the government to any expense in its management. It was a ramshackle old wooden building. To protect her girls, Caroline decided to sleep there herself, so she cleared an old storeroom seven foot square and bedded down with them. An account of how she spent her first night is an illustration of her courage and resourcefulness. Tired after a busy day, she had no sooner lain down than a rumpus started up, like the sound of a pack of dogs running loose in the room. Jumping up in terror, she lit a candle. Rats were scurrying frantically all over the room, all but covering the floor as they tumbled noisily over one another. Caroline's initial impulse was to run, but that would defeat her plan. When three rats landed on her shoulders, she felt she might be ill by the morning and again thought of quitting. Then she hit on an idea. Taking two loaves of bread, she sliced them and, with some butter and a dish of water, she placed them in the centre of the room. She sat on her bed, reading Abercrombie and watching the rats enjoy their midnight feast without bothering her until four the next morning. The following night she prepared for them a similar treat—with the addition of arsenic. The need for Caroline's Female Immigrants' Home soon became apparent. It was not long before she had filled up the four rooms in the barracks with ninety-four women. But how was she to care for her three little boys as well? She had already sent the two oldest back to Windsor, where they were well looked after by Miss M. Galvin, and hoped to keep the youngest with her. Then a flu epidemic broke out among the immigrants. toriCaroline saw that if she were to continue to care for the girls, she had to be willing to part with her son. One night, still indecisive as she did her normal rounds of the girls, she asked them if they had any place to go if she turned them out. Not one had another shelter. When she returned to her room, she found a poor woman waiting for a white gown "to make her dead bairn [baby] decent" for burial. Fullness of the realization that the plague could strike her own little boy struck Caroline, so the next day she packed up her son's clothes and sent him to Windsor. It "was the last sacrifice it was God's will to demand". That was the only mention she made of her great personal sacrifice. God had asked that her children take second place so that others might know domestic happiness, so she obediently complied. But, as the mother she was to her own children, she set "inviolably set apart" one day each week for her family. Apparently her children were well cared for, and in later years all expressed a great love for their mother. Every night Caroline ventured alone into the streets, down to the notorious 'Rocks' and into gloomy Hyde Park, to gather up homeless women. She was also a familiar figure down at the docks, where she met every immigrant ship. Boldly believing the Lord would provide, she opened a free job registry office at her barracks home (pages 128-30).