This Sunday I have been asked to preach on the life of Joseph, a patriarch of the faith who demonstrated daring confidence and trust in God’s revealed message to him. Joseph is enshrined in the “Hall of Faith” recorded in Hebrews 11, and received glowing recognition in Stephen’s message on the occasion of his martyrdom in Acts 7. Joseph had every excuse for breaking the chain of faith handed down from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But, Joseph held fast to what he knew was right and what he had received in a vision from God.
Few people recognize the name, Ignaz Philipp Semmelweis. He is credited with saving the lives of countless women. A Hungarian physician, Semmelweis was an early pioneer of antiseptic procedures. Now known as the "savior of mothers", Semmelweis observed that the incidence of puerperal fever could be drastically cut by disinfecting physicians’ hands in obstetrical clinics. Puerperal fever was common in mid-19th-century hospitals with mortality at 10%–35%. Commonly, doctors in the 19th Century would dissect cadavers and then attend a birth without changing clothes or washing their hands. Semmelweis strongly promoted hand washing with chlorinated lime solutions in 1847 while working in Vienna General Hospital's First Obstetrical Clinic. He documented that mothers attended in childbirth by doctors experienced three times the mortality rate of those attended by midwives.
Despite various published reports where hand-washing reduced mortality to below 1%, Semmelweis's observations conflicted with the established scientific and medical opinions of the time. His ideas were rather violently rejected by fellow physicians. Some scoffed at the idea that hand washing had any value at all. Semmelweis could offer no scientific explanation for his findings and was reviled by his peers. One account I read tells how Dr. Semmelweis would approach pregnant women on the street and urge them to not allow a doctor to touch them while delivering their babies. Semmelweis's practice earned widespread acceptance years after his death, when Louis Pasteur confirmed the germ theory. In 1865, Semmelweis was committed to an asylum, probably because his interest in cleanliness became an obsession. The causes of Dr. Semmelwies’ death vary. One report says he died of blood poisoning, at age 47, another cause of death says it was at the hands of asylum attendants who beat him.
Heroic actions follow inward convictions. The one doing the deeds others consider heroic do not feel fearless and bold, just convinced of a “message” or principle that is worthy of life itself. Joseph’s now well-known words are recorded for our faith and practice, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” (Genesis 50:20)
The question we ought to ask, “Am I living live with a compelling conviction that has freed me from the fears of rejection and gives me the potential of saving lives?”
Friday, September 30, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
The Power of Praying Parents
An instructive story was told by the great American preacher, J. Wilbur Chapman.1 The event is set in Edinburgh Scotland more than a century ago, its lesson is as contemporary as tomorrow, and strongly reinforces my experience. My parents were praying people and taught their children, “Happiness is found in obedience, not understanding.”
Dr. Chapman’s story –
“The old clock in the church in the church steeple ... was striking nine o’clock one night when a company of young men were just passing the church on their way to a place of sin. Suddenly one of them stopped and said:
“‘I cannot go with you.’
“When they pressed him for an answer, he said:
“‘When I left my home in the country, my mother said, ‘My boy, you are going to a wicked town, and your temptations will be strong, but your father and I will pray for you without ceasing; and at nine o’clock every evening we will be on our knees saying, Oh, God, save our boy,’ and, said he, ‘I will not break their hearts.’
“They jeered at him and mocked him, but he turned back to his room, fell on his knees and cried out to God, for mercy; and today he is not only a Christian, but one of the leading merchants in Edinburgh.”
My father passed away twenty years ago, my mother, ten years ago. My father, paralyzed and nearly completely helpless physically, remained strong in faith and prayer. On at least one occasion, my mother went to his bedside at night thinking Dad had called out for help. She discovered he was praying in his sleep! My mother slipped away from us with the small steps of Alzheimer’s Disease, but prayer and singing familiar hymns were the last facilities to leave. While I miss conversations and raucous family gatherings over which my parents presided, I really miss their prayers.
The influence of people praying, especially the prayers of parents for their children, is unfathomable. The intercession of parents has turned the heart of a wayward child toward heaven more times than we know. If you have a child straying from God, hold on in prayer. If your children are walking as Jesus’ disciples, continue praying!
1. J. Wilbur Chapman, The Power of a Surrendered Life, The Bible Institute Colportage Association, page 117
Dr. Chapman’s story –
“The old clock in the church in the church steeple ... was striking nine o’clock one night when a company of young men were just passing the church on their way to a place of sin. Suddenly one of them stopped and said:
“‘I cannot go with you.’
“When they pressed him for an answer, he said:
“‘When I left my home in the country, my mother said, ‘My boy, you are going to a wicked town, and your temptations will be strong, but your father and I will pray for you without ceasing; and at nine o’clock every evening we will be on our knees saying, Oh, God, save our boy,’ and, said he, ‘I will not break their hearts.’
“They jeered at him and mocked him, but he turned back to his room, fell on his knees and cried out to God, for mercy; and today he is not only a Christian, but one of the leading merchants in Edinburgh.”
My father passed away twenty years ago, my mother, ten years ago. My father, paralyzed and nearly completely helpless physically, remained strong in faith and prayer. On at least one occasion, my mother went to his bedside at night thinking Dad had called out for help. She discovered he was praying in his sleep! My mother slipped away from us with the small steps of Alzheimer’s Disease, but prayer and singing familiar hymns were the last facilities to leave. While I miss conversations and raucous family gatherings over which my parents presided, I really miss their prayers.
The influence of people praying, especially the prayers of parents for their children, is unfathomable. The intercession of parents has turned the heart of a wayward child toward heaven more times than we know. If you have a child straying from God, hold on in prayer. If your children are walking as Jesus’ disciples, continue praying!
1. J. Wilbur Chapman, The Power of a Surrendered Life, The Bible Institute Colportage Association, page 117
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Stop to Think -- For Christ's Sake
Disciples of Jesus might spend their time well in asking and answering, “What are we doing, and why do we do what we do?” The world of religion can be brutally demanding. Expectations are high. The production of religious programming which satisfies the consumers consumes the producers. Leaders wonder, “What can we do now? We need to keep this rolling!”
I understand and sympathize. I have felt the load of expectations and am familiar with pressure. One noon time, while praying in Highway Tabernacle’s sanctuary, a glorious exhibit of pre-Civil War architecture, a gorgeous room in which to worship and preach, I startled myself by asking the question, “How much of this did Jesus have in mind when He said, ‘I will build my church?’” I realized that much of the pressure I felt was not because of my sterling faithfulness to Jesus, but self-imposed and in response to I felt what others expected.
Financial investments for real estate and stage productions are staggering. Maintenance costs of vast campuses and payrolls for professionals who keep multiple programs synchronized keep stretching upward. Materials are developed and monies invested to perfect manipulative techniques to motivate “volunteers.” “How to” manuals and seminars proliferate. I believe, one religious marketplace reality is, the American church is in danger of losing its reason for being for lack of serious thought and self-evaluation.
Isaiah describes the carpenter who selects a forest tree, chops it down, uses part of the tree to warm his meals and from the rest fashions a god to worship. And, the god looks like him! The opening words of the prophet’s assessment are arresting!
No one stops to think, no one has the knowledge or understanding to say, “Half of it I used for fuel; I even baked bread over its coals, I roasted meat and I ate. Shall I make a detestable thing from what is left? Shall I bow down to a block of wood?” (Isaiah 44)
Mere religious activity, without serious reflection is a slippery slope into mindless busyness. We must learn from Isaiah’s foolish carpenter and stop to think!
First, I believe, we must stop to think, asking, “Does Jesus really want this?” If Jesus’ reason for coming into the world is to save sinners, how well, or how poorly do our activities and investments move us toward fulfilling Jesus’ purposes? Dare we ask ourselves, “How much more in love with Jesus will people be because of this investment of human and financial resources?”
Second, we must think through the challenging question, “Am I really interested in others?” Do we already spend time with the people we want to introduce to Jesus when no one is observing? When no monies are needed? Am I engaged for their sake, for Jesus’ sake, or my own? Are we meeting with people where they live and work, or do we create venues for others to meet on our terms, in our place, when convenient for us?
And, last, are we willing to ask the probing question, “Am I really doing what I do for Jesus’ sake?” Or, is there an agenda through which I have yet to think and seriously consider?
• “For the sake of the Name” first generation disciples risked their lives and reputations. (1 John 3)
• Do we, like Moses, consider “the disgrace for the sake of Christ” of greater value than our personal pleasure or security? (Hebrews 11)
• Am I willing to consider (stop to think) Paul’s Spirit inspired, deeply probing words, “I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. Here is a trustworthy saying: If we died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him. If we disown him, he will also disown us; if we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot disown himself.” (2 Timothy 2)
• What do the Holy Spirit words of Philippians 3 mean in my thoughts, my life? “But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him ...
I am arrested with the words, “For whose sake?” And, “No one stops to think.” Do I need a stage in a crowded arena for “Christ’s sake” to occur in my life? Am I whittling a god who satisfies me out of wood that the True God created? Am I content with bringing people to Jesus or am I developing a following of my own?
I understand and sympathize. I have felt the load of expectations and am familiar with pressure. One noon time, while praying in Highway Tabernacle’s sanctuary, a glorious exhibit of pre-Civil War architecture, a gorgeous room in which to worship and preach, I startled myself by asking the question, “How much of this did Jesus have in mind when He said, ‘I will build my church?’” I realized that much of the pressure I felt was not because of my sterling faithfulness to Jesus, but self-imposed and in response to I felt what others expected.
Financial investments for real estate and stage productions are staggering. Maintenance costs of vast campuses and payrolls for professionals who keep multiple programs synchronized keep stretching upward. Materials are developed and monies invested to perfect manipulative techniques to motivate “volunteers.” “How to” manuals and seminars proliferate. I believe, one religious marketplace reality is, the American church is in danger of losing its reason for being for lack of serious thought and self-evaluation.
Isaiah describes the carpenter who selects a forest tree, chops it down, uses part of the tree to warm his meals and from the rest fashions a god to worship. And, the god looks like him! The opening words of the prophet’s assessment are arresting!
No one stops to think, no one has the knowledge or understanding to say, “Half of it I used for fuel; I even baked bread over its coals, I roasted meat and I ate. Shall I make a detestable thing from what is left? Shall I bow down to a block of wood?” (Isaiah 44)
Mere religious activity, without serious reflection is a slippery slope into mindless busyness. We must learn from Isaiah’s foolish carpenter and stop to think!
First, I believe, we must stop to think, asking, “Does Jesus really want this?” If Jesus’ reason for coming into the world is to save sinners, how well, or how poorly do our activities and investments move us toward fulfilling Jesus’ purposes? Dare we ask ourselves, “How much more in love with Jesus will people be because of this investment of human and financial resources?”
Second, we must think through the challenging question, “Am I really interested in others?” Do we already spend time with the people we want to introduce to Jesus when no one is observing? When no monies are needed? Am I engaged for their sake, for Jesus’ sake, or my own? Are we meeting with people where they live and work, or do we create venues for others to meet on our terms, in our place, when convenient for us?
And, last, are we willing to ask the probing question, “Am I really doing what I do for Jesus’ sake?” Or, is there an agenda through which I have yet to think and seriously consider?
• “For the sake of the Name” first generation disciples risked their lives and reputations. (1 John 3)
• Do we, like Moses, consider “the disgrace for the sake of Christ” of greater value than our personal pleasure or security? (Hebrews 11)
• Am I willing to consider (stop to think) Paul’s Spirit inspired, deeply probing words, “I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. Here is a trustworthy saying: If we died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him. If we disown him, he will also disown us; if we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot disown himself.” (2 Timothy 2)
• What do the Holy Spirit words of Philippians 3 mean in my thoughts, my life? “But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him ...
I am arrested with the words, “For whose sake?” And, “No one stops to think.” Do I need a stage in a crowded arena for “Christ’s sake” to occur in my life? Am I whittling a god who satisfies me out of wood that the True God created? Am I content with bringing people to Jesus or am I developing a following of my own?
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Friends - Part Eight
When Northeast Urban Church Planting (NUCP) began in 1988, one of the first disciplines we established was spending Friday mornings fasting and praying. The vision for NUCP was Owen Carr’s and included a training segment, an internship in urban church planting. Teams would form to plant churches. Most team members were Bible College students. The first group hailed from Missouri, Ohio, New York, Texas, and Florida, places Pat and I had only visited.
The team held few experiences in common. Neither lady had grown up in a family with a Christian father. One fellow’s parents had divorced and he shuttled between overly permissive parents. It is little wonder that his life spiraled downward and that he needed the ministry of Teen Challenge. One young man’s parents were pastors, college classmates of ours. Another student was the product of a severe legalism in his home and church which allowed him to excuse his judgmental attitude over everyone with whom he disagreed. One had been in the Army and had been delivered from alcohol abuse. All were attending Central Bible College except one, a student studying at Gordon-Conwell Seminary. Pat and I were suddenly responsible for organizing a team. We often felt that we were trying to stuff feathers back into a pillow and someone kept turning on a huge fan!
To illustrate, I once followed the van to the place we would be praying that day. I noticed a large white cloth pinched into a window opening, flapping wildly. I investigated when we arrived at the church. The cloth was a large pair of men’s briefs whose owner explained, “I didn’t have time to dry them and thought this would be a good way to finish my laundry.” No one had thought about writing a proscription for using the van as a laundry machine! On another occasion, the team was allowed to use the van to visit the sights of New York City. They all agreed to park in a “No Standing” zone in Midtown Manhattan. Within minutes the van was ticketed and impounded, costing the students over $20 each. Their explanation, “We thought ‘No Standing’ meant ‘No Loitering!’” That may be true in Missouri, but ...
Teaching strategic prayer was a daunting task considering the disparate cultures, varied experiences, and youthfulness of the team members. Our first prayer meetings were tentative, lacking much intensity. I quickly learned young students are well-intentioned, but easily distracted. The first meetings seemed like three days long rather than three hours. How much I was to influence the weekly sessions? How does one teach prayer in that setting? I felt responsible for teaching the youthful charges to move beyond personal devotions to meaningful, united intercession and competence in leading others in prayer.
That is when my friend taught me. Brother Carr made a visit to observe the progress of the work. On Friday morning he was fully engaged. After sharing a brief word of encouragement about prayer, he paced quietly and spoke, “Jesus,” softly, frequently, communicating to all who heard, “Jesus and I are friends, and I love Him!” He called out to Jesus as Savior, he appealed to Jesus to heal. We all learned from Brother Carr as he wept over the city sharing Jesus’ grief that people were living as sheep without a shepherd. And, the seasons of silent prayer communicated as powerfully as the times of impassioned intercession. As Brother Carr prayed in the Spirit, he was clearly communicating his spirit with God’s Spirit. We were learning from our friend.
Several months ago Pat and I were in a church where an intern from the next church planting team is now on the pastoral team ministering. Her testimony was, “I will never forget being frustrated when I was expected to pray for three hours. Ten or fifteen minutes was my limit. I thought, if I have to do this, I better learn how. So, I made sure I was near Brother Wegner and listened. That is how I learned.” What that young lady didn’t realize is, I had been listening to Brother Carr.
Thank God for friends!
The team held few experiences in common. Neither lady had grown up in a family with a Christian father. One fellow’s parents had divorced and he shuttled between overly permissive parents. It is little wonder that his life spiraled downward and that he needed the ministry of Teen Challenge. One young man’s parents were pastors, college classmates of ours. Another student was the product of a severe legalism in his home and church which allowed him to excuse his judgmental attitude over everyone with whom he disagreed. One had been in the Army and had been delivered from alcohol abuse. All were attending Central Bible College except one, a student studying at Gordon-Conwell Seminary. Pat and I were suddenly responsible for organizing a team. We often felt that we were trying to stuff feathers back into a pillow and someone kept turning on a huge fan!
To illustrate, I once followed the van to the place we would be praying that day. I noticed a large white cloth pinched into a window opening, flapping wildly. I investigated when we arrived at the church. The cloth was a large pair of men’s briefs whose owner explained, “I didn’t have time to dry them and thought this would be a good way to finish my laundry.” No one had thought about writing a proscription for using the van as a laundry machine! On another occasion, the team was allowed to use the van to visit the sights of New York City. They all agreed to park in a “No Standing” zone in Midtown Manhattan. Within minutes the van was ticketed and impounded, costing the students over $20 each. Their explanation, “We thought ‘No Standing’ meant ‘No Loitering!’” That may be true in Missouri, but ...
Teaching strategic prayer was a daunting task considering the disparate cultures, varied experiences, and youthfulness of the team members. Our first prayer meetings were tentative, lacking much intensity. I quickly learned young students are well-intentioned, but easily distracted. The first meetings seemed like three days long rather than three hours. How much I was to influence the weekly sessions? How does one teach prayer in that setting? I felt responsible for teaching the youthful charges to move beyond personal devotions to meaningful, united intercession and competence in leading others in prayer.
That is when my friend taught me. Brother Carr made a visit to observe the progress of the work. On Friday morning he was fully engaged. After sharing a brief word of encouragement about prayer, he paced quietly and spoke, “Jesus,” softly, frequently, communicating to all who heard, “Jesus and I are friends, and I love Him!” He called out to Jesus as Savior, he appealed to Jesus to heal. We all learned from Brother Carr as he wept over the city sharing Jesus’ grief that people were living as sheep without a shepherd. And, the seasons of silent prayer communicated as powerfully as the times of impassioned intercession. As Brother Carr prayed in the Spirit, he was clearly communicating his spirit with God’s Spirit. We were learning from our friend.
Several months ago Pat and I were in a church where an intern from the next church planting team is now on the pastoral team ministering. Her testimony was, “I will never forget being frustrated when I was expected to pray for three hours. Ten or fifteen minutes was my limit. I thought, if I have to do this, I better learn how. So, I made sure I was near Brother Wegner and listened. That is how I learned.” What that young lady didn’t realize is, I had been listening to Brother Carr.
Thank God for friends!
Monday, September 19, 2011
Friendship - Part Six
My last post was an account of how Owen and Priscilla Carr befriended Pat and me. Healthy friendships are learning experiences, and the teacher is often unaware that learning is actually occurring. The process appears to be spontaneous, is unplanned, and unexpected. But, I believe, friendships are arranged in heaven. Our God who declared that he works everything together for good, orchestrates encounters to form his people more perfectly into the image of his dear son. He even predestines our friendships. (Romans 8:28-30)
Shortly after we married, Pat and I attended an evening lecture lasting more than two hours. That memorable night Francis Schaeffer taught, “Everything we see began with an idea. Ideas, dreams, vision, he added, must then be shared with others. As a result of sharing what is hidden to the masses, others can embrace and help facilitate the idea or vision.” Schaeffer then went on, “Most dreams or visions die because the one with whom God has entrusted the idea is afraid to share it with others.”
Owen Carr taught and modeled several ministry and life lessons which have equipped us more to be more effective. I share the first. Brother Carr taught us to be comfortable with vision, the ability to see what is still hidden to others. From our first conversation until our most recent, Owen Carr dares to share what God has shown him, secrets from God’s heart.
During our first visit, Brother Carr nearly gushed with enthusiasm for Channel 38, a Christian television station whose power and influence was just beginning to unfold in Chicago. I was amazed because he could see everything, even though little of it actually existed. It seemed like he was flipping through an album of photos showing me what was still a dream. Faith was not a nebulous, foggy phantom. Faith was real and a motivating dream. Things were already happening, most people just couldn’t see it yet.
Several years later, I was reading Hebrews 13 and understood from a fresh perspective, By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a short time. He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward. By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible.
Moses succeeded because he could see what was hidden to others. Others had ideas, dreamed, and harbored secret visions, but fell victim to their own cowardice, or failure to hold on until the secret thing could be shared and become reality.
Concerning vision, Brother Carr taught me by word and example
• How to properly share a dream. I learned how to take the right people into confidence and enlist their prayers. I have learned that God-given visions can be squandered when carelessly announced, before the germ of an idea is strong enough for exposure to the doubting elements of the masses.
• That dreams and hard work are constant companions. Owen Carr is more than 20 years my senior, but has often out-worked me and men younger than me.
Like Moses, visionaries can see the invisible. Like creative musicians who hear music before it is performed, God speaks entrusting people with what most cannot hear. Then He deploys them to do what everyone else believes is impossible. In short, visionaries like Owen Carr see the invisible, hear the inaudible and then do the impossible.
Thank God for the serendipitous introduction to an important friendship.
P.S. Yesterday we learned that Priscilla, Owen’s wife for over 70 years, has a malignancy in her right sinus. We enlist you to pray with us for the Carrs.
Shortly after we married, Pat and I attended an evening lecture lasting more than two hours. That memorable night Francis Schaeffer taught, “Everything we see began with an idea. Ideas, dreams, vision, he added, must then be shared with others. As a result of sharing what is hidden to the masses, others can embrace and help facilitate the idea or vision.” Schaeffer then went on, “Most dreams or visions die because the one with whom God has entrusted the idea is afraid to share it with others.”
Owen Carr taught and modeled several ministry and life lessons which have equipped us more to be more effective. I share the first. Brother Carr taught us to be comfortable with vision, the ability to see what is still hidden to others. From our first conversation until our most recent, Owen Carr dares to share what God has shown him, secrets from God’s heart.
During our first visit, Brother Carr nearly gushed with enthusiasm for Channel 38, a Christian television station whose power and influence was just beginning to unfold in Chicago. I was amazed because he could see everything, even though little of it actually existed. It seemed like he was flipping through an album of photos showing me what was still a dream. Faith was not a nebulous, foggy phantom. Faith was real and a motivating dream. Things were already happening, most people just couldn’t see it yet.
Several years later, I was reading Hebrews 13 and understood from a fresh perspective, By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be known as the son of Pharaoh’s daughter. He chose to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a short time. He regarded disgrace for the sake of Christ as of greater value than the treasures of Egypt, because he was looking ahead to his reward. By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger; he persevered because he saw him who is invisible.
Moses succeeded because he could see what was hidden to others. Others had ideas, dreamed, and harbored secret visions, but fell victim to their own cowardice, or failure to hold on until the secret thing could be shared and become reality.
Concerning vision, Brother Carr taught me by word and example
• How to properly share a dream. I learned how to take the right people into confidence and enlist their prayers. I have learned that God-given visions can be squandered when carelessly announced, before the germ of an idea is strong enough for exposure to the doubting elements of the masses.
• That dreams and hard work are constant companions. Owen Carr is more than 20 years my senior, but has often out-worked me and men younger than me.
Like Moses, visionaries can see the invisible. Like creative musicians who hear music before it is performed, God speaks entrusting people with what most cannot hear. Then He deploys them to do what everyone else believes is impossible. In short, visionaries like Owen Carr see the invisible, hear the inaudible and then do the impossible.
Thank God for the serendipitous introduction to an important friendship.
P.S. Yesterday we learned that Priscilla, Owen’s wife for over 70 years, has a malignancy in her right sinus. We enlist you to pray with us for the Carrs.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Friends - Part Seven
Looking back on serendipitous events is a luxury of aging. When we were much younger, we were often too busy parenting a family, addressing vocational challenges, and wondering about our futures to appreciate what we were experiencing. I am reliving one of those special which moments occurred more than 35 years ago.
Our family was taking a few days off to spend with Pat’s parents, allowing them to dote on their grandchildren. On Sunday, we decided to visit Stone Church in suburban Chicago, a landmark congregation then pastored by Owen Carr. On entering the building I was quickly approached by a man that I did not recognize. He reintroduced himself as the Baptist pastor who had visited the Christian bookstore Pat’s family owner. Pastor Ashburn visited the family store to peruse books about the Holy Spirit.
As my father-in-law showed the array of books on the theme, the conversation focused on Biblical evidence that speaking in tongues was normative for those filled with the Spirit. The store had several late Saturday afternoon customers, so my father-in-law introduced me to the pastor saying, “Here, I think Otto will be able to help you.” As I began pointing to the various texts in The Book of Acts, I would inject personal experience, to which, Pastor Ashburn would say, “No, I just want to know the Scriptures.” That had been the only time I had spent with the pastor. Less than an hour, until the day we visited Stone Church.
That Sunday Pastor Carr introduced new members joining the church. When the Ashburn’s names were read, Pastor Carr said, “There is a pastor from Michigan who has been helpful to these folk. Where are you, and would you please stand?” I looked across the aisle and saw another Michigan pastor, and assumed that he was the one who was to be introduced. He didn’t stand. Pastor Ashburn pointed at me! I shrugged, and stood, embarrassed at being recognized.
At the end of the service, Pastor Carr walked toward the foyer to greet people leaving the service, stopped near where we were seated, and said, “Don’t leave!” We waited until he and Sister Carr had finished greeting folk, and then they insisted on taking us to dinner. Pastor Carr said, “I want to know you and about your work.”
I was, and remain, an internationally unknown pastor, and Pastor Carr wants to know me? We had a delightful time of fellowship. The Carrs paid close attention to our children. And a friendship was born that led to more than thirty years of shared ministry. Our lives have never been the same! We have been blessed!
P.S. Pastor Ashburn joined Stone Church as part of the process of becoming an ordained Pentecostal pastor with the Assemblies of God. After our conversation that Saturday afternoon, and after tucking their children in for the night, the Ashburns read the Scripture passages we had reviewed, and prayed, “Lord, if these passages are for us today, fill us with the Spirit now.” The Spirit filled them!
Our family was taking a few days off to spend with Pat’s parents, allowing them to dote on their grandchildren. On Sunday, we decided to visit Stone Church in suburban Chicago, a landmark congregation then pastored by Owen Carr. On entering the building I was quickly approached by a man that I did not recognize. He reintroduced himself as the Baptist pastor who had visited the Christian bookstore Pat’s family owner. Pastor Ashburn visited the family store to peruse books about the Holy Spirit.
As my father-in-law showed the array of books on the theme, the conversation focused on Biblical evidence that speaking in tongues was normative for those filled with the Spirit. The store had several late Saturday afternoon customers, so my father-in-law introduced me to the pastor saying, “Here, I think Otto will be able to help you.” As I began pointing to the various texts in The Book of Acts, I would inject personal experience, to which, Pastor Ashburn would say, “No, I just want to know the Scriptures.” That had been the only time I had spent with the pastor. Less than an hour, until the day we visited Stone Church.
That Sunday Pastor Carr introduced new members joining the church. When the Ashburn’s names were read, Pastor Carr said, “There is a pastor from Michigan who has been helpful to these folk. Where are you, and would you please stand?” I looked across the aisle and saw another Michigan pastor, and assumed that he was the one who was to be introduced. He didn’t stand. Pastor Ashburn pointed at me! I shrugged, and stood, embarrassed at being recognized.
At the end of the service, Pastor Carr walked toward the foyer to greet people leaving the service, stopped near where we were seated, and said, “Don’t leave!” We waited until he and Sister Carr had finished greeting folk, and then they insisted on taking us to dinner. Pastor Carr said, “I want to know you and about your work.”
I was, and remain, an internationally unknown pastor, and Pastor Carr wants to know me? We had a delightful time of fellowship. The Carrs paid close attention to our children. And a friendship was born that led to more than thirty years of shared ministry. Our lives have never been the same! We have been blessed!
P.S. Pastor Ashburn joined Stone Church as part of the process of becoming an ordained Pentecostal pastor with the Assemblies of God. After our conversation that Saturday afternoon, and after tucking their children in for the night, the Ashburns read the Scripture passages we had reviewed, and prayed, “Lord, if these passages are for us today, fill us with the Spirit now.” The Spirit filled them!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Friends - Part Six
This morning, like yesterday, I awaked to the melody and lyrics of J. Wilbur Chapman’s, “Jesus, What a Friend of Sinners.” While recently highlighting the role a few friends have played in my life, and there are more whose story I will share, a reflective pause to consider Jesus as friend is appropriate.
Along the path of life, friends taught me, “A friend is someone with whom you share honesty, and when something embarrassing is uncovered, says, ‘ Oh, you too?’” Friends are never condescending, and consistently lead to the higher way.
Instead of condemnation or railing accusations, Jesus, both Savior and Friend, says, “I understand, come follow me.” Have you noticed that following His resurrection, Jesus took special interest in Peter, the one who had so vociferously and publically denied Him?
Do you remember singing, and discovering truth the Spirit brought into your soul, “I’ve found a Friend, who is all to me, His love is ever true; I love to tell how He lifted me, and what His grace can do for you?” Years add warmth and meaning to the simple truth.
A word about J. Wilbur Chapman a pastor and revivalist whose ministry impacted the post Civil War American church like few others, in addition to his revivalist ministry Chapman pastored several Presbyterian congregations including Bethany Presbyterian in Philadelphia, 1890-1892, 1896-1899. A contemporary of D. L. Moody, Chapman was instrumental in grooming many younger preachers and songwriters. His primary pattern was to simply befriend those who expressed interest in pursuing ministry. Chapman’s deep insights into Jesus as friend and savior are captured in the lyrics of his most well-known song.
Jesus! what a Friend for sinners!
Jesus! Lover of my soul;
Friends may fail me, foes assail me,
He, my Savior, makes me whole.
Refrain
Hallelujah! what a Savior!
Hallelujah! what a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,
He is with me to the end.
Jesus! what a Strength in weakness!
Let me hide myself in Him.
Tempted, tried, and sometimes failing,
He, my Strength, my victory wins.
Refrain
Jesus! what a Help in sorrow!
While the billows over me roll,
Even when my heart is breaking,
He, my Comfort, helps my soul.
Refrain
Jesus! what a Guide and Keeper!
While the tempest still is high,
Storms about me, night overtakes me,
He, my Pilot, hears my cry.
Refrain
Jesus! I do now receive Him,
More than all in Him I find.
He hath granted me forgiveness,
I am His, and He is mine.
Refrain
Along the path of life, friends taught me, “A friend is someone with whom you share honesty, and when something embarrassing is uncovered, says, ‘ Oh, you too?’” Friends are never condescending, and consistently lead to the higher way.
Instead of condemnation or railing accusations, Jesus, both Savior and Friend, says, “I understand, come follow me.” Have you noticed that following His resurrection, Jesus took special interest in Peter, the one who had so vociferously and publically denied Him?
Do you remember singing, and discovering truth the Spirit brought into your soul, “I’ve found a Friend, who is all to me, His love is ever true; I love to tell how He lifted me, and what His grace can do for you?” Years add warmth and meaning to the simple truth.
A word about J. Wilbur Chapman a pastor and revivalist whose ministry impacted the post Civil War American church like few others, in addition to his revivalist ministry Chapman pastored several Presbyterian congregations including Bethany Presbyterian in Philadelphia, 1890-1892, 1896-1899. A contemporary of D. L. Moody, Chapman was instrumental in grooming many younger preachers and songwriters. His primary pattern was to simply befriend those who expressed interest in pursuing ministry. Chapman’s deep insights into Jesus as friend and savior are captured in the lyrics of his most well-known song.
Jesus! what a Friend for sinners!
Jesus! Lover of my soul;
Friends may fail me, foes assail me,
He, my Savior, makes me whole.
Refrain
Hallelujah! what a Savior!
Hallelujah! what a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,
He is with me to the end.
Jesus! what a Strength in weakness!
Let me hide myself in Him.
Tempted, tried, and sometimes failing,
He, my Strength, my victory wins.
Refrain
Jesus! what a Help in sorrow!
While the billows over me roll,
Even when my heart is breaking,
He, my Comfort, helps my soul.
Refrain
Jesus! what a Guide and Keeper!
While the tempest still is high,
Storms about me, night overtakes me,
He, my Pilot, hears my cry.
Refrain
Jesus! I do now receive Him,
More than all in Him I find.
He hath granted me forgiveness,
I am His, and He is mine.
Refrain
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Friendship - Part Five
Not all family members are connected genetically. Pat and I often marvel at the church families which nurtured us and those that helped us with the parenting process.
Our first real church family when a pastor, Calvary Assembly of God, embraced our family of three in 1970. Candace was only one-year-old the year we moved to Lansing, Michigan. Several young couples joined the congregation soon after we began ministry there. Two children were added to our clan during our tenure there and we youthful families enjoyed seven years of friendship and learned from one another.
One man, Norman Schwartz, is remembered as a much needed grandfather figure. Norman was an unassuming veteran of the faith. For several years Brother Schwartz cleaned the church and during our conversations, he molded my life with anecdotal reports of his experiences in church life and with the Lord. At one point, without any urging from me or an announcement from the pulpit, Brother Schwartz accepted an assignment to quietly fast and pray for the church. He was at least two weeks into his fast before I learned of his obedience to the Lord, and how he knew it was God’s voice instructing him . Only then did I begin to understand why the church was advancing as well as it was.
Brother Schwartz was retired from General Motors and had more discretionary time than young people with full time employment. He eagerly worked along side of me and other volunteers as the new church was being built. Rock solid in faith, self-effacing, and quiet, I’ll never forget his blushing when I used him as an example of eldership while teaching a mid-week Bible study. The chorus of “Amens” and heads nodding in agreement intensified the redness in his cheeks and his quiet denials were ignored by young and old!
At Bethany Church in Wyckoff, NJ a grandmother in the faith, Sister Catherine Struss, was one of several elders in the faith. Catherine sat near the front, smiled continuously, sighed the Name, Jesus, quietly, and worshiped joyously. Toward the end of more than ten years ministry there, Sister Struss’ health was breaking and church attendance became impossible. I visited her in her daughter’s home as often as I could. I hope I encouraged and helped her, but I know she built end-of-life faith in me. Over the course of several months, Catherine Struss would say, “Pastor, Jesus is getting my rooms ready. They are not quite finished.” Each visit I received an update on the progress of the “rooms” Jesus was building. On one of the last visits, Sister Struss said, “Jesus has had my rooms painted and the carpet is being installed. I will be moving in soon.” And, she did. When I read John 14 I never fail to remember Sister Struss.
Occasionally I hear of churches where children and youth do not worship with the adults of the congregation. I think, “What a shame, there is so much to be learned, simply absorbed as generations share time together.” And, now, I am in the grandparent season of life and increasingly more aware that others are learning by observing me.
Do you remember the song often sung in church?
You will notice we say "brother and sister" 'round here,
It's because we're a family and these are so near;
When one has a heartache, we all share the tears,
And rejoice in each victory in this family so dear.
Chorus
I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God,
I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His Blood!
Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod,
For I'm part of the family, The Family of God
Our first real church family when a pastor, Calvary Assembly of God, embraced our family of three in 1970. Candace was only one-year-old the year we moved to Lansing, Michigan. Several young couples joined the congregation soon after we began ministry there. Two children were added to our clan during our tenure there and we youthful families enjoyed seven years of friendship and learned from one another.
One man, Norman Schwartz, is remembered as a much needed grandfather figure. Norman was an unassuming veteran of the faith. For several years Brother Schwartz cleaned the church and during our conversations, he molded my life with anecdotal reports of his experiences in church life and with the Lord. At one point, without any urging from me or an announcement from the pulpit, Brother Schwartz accepted an assignment to quietly fast and pray for the church. He was at least two weeks into his fast before I learned of his obedience to the Lord, and how he knew it was God’s voice instructing him . Only then did I begin to understand why the church was advancing as well as it was.
Brother Schwartz was retired from General Motors and had more discretionary time than young people with full time employment. He eagerly worked along side of me and other volunteers as the new church was being built. Rock solid in faith, self-effacing, and quiet, I’ll never forget his blushing when I used him as an example of eldership while teaching a mid-week Bible study. The chorus of “Amens” and heads nodding in agreement intensified the redness in his cheeks and his quiet denials were ignored by young and old!
At Bethany Church in Wyckoff, NJ a grandmother in the faith, Sister Catherine Struss, was one of several elders in the faith. Catherine sat near the front, smiled continuously, sighed the Name, Jesus, quietly, and worshiped joyously. Toward the end of more than ten years ministry there, Sister Struss’ health was breaking and church attendance became impossible. I visited her in her daughter’s home as often as I could. I hope I encouraged and helped her, but I know she built end-of-life faith in me. Over the course of several months, Catherine Struss would say, “Pastor, Jesus is getting my rooms ready. They are not quite finished.” Each visit I received an update on the progress of the “rooms” Jesus was building. On one of the last visits, Sister Struss said, “Jesus has had my rooms painted and the carpet is being installed. I will be moving in soon.” And, she did. When I read John 14 I never fail to remember Sister Struss.
Occasionally I hear of churches where children and youth do not worship with the adults of the congregation. I think, “What a shame, there is so much to be learned, simply absorbed as generations share time together.” And, now, I am in the grandparent season of life and increasingly more aware that others are learning by observing me.
Do you remember the song often sung in church?
You will notice we say "brother and sister" 'round here,
It's because we're a family and these are so near;
When one has a heartache, we all share the tears,
And rejoice in each victory in this family so dear.
Chorus
I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God,
I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His Blood!
Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod,
For I'm part of the family, The Family of God
Monday, September 12, 2011
Friendship - Part Four
Last week I spent time defining the blessings of friendships we have experienced. As I continue the theme this week, I spend some time on the friendship I share with Pat, a spouse for whom enough superlatives have not yet been coined. Most of all, Pat has been an unparalleled friend.
Since or simple honeymoon, shortened by one week because the supply pastor refused to fill the pulpit for a second Sunday, Pat has been a faithful, loving companion. We returned to the three small lean-to rooms at the rear of the church, and established the satisfying rhythms of married life. After nearly 45 years, I remain amazed that Pat and I have never been “down” at the same time and that Pat has never refused to embrace a dream I’ve shared.
She and I have faced some daunting challenges together, but one of us has always been able to summon the high road of faith and hope while the other may have doubted or even despaired. Health, finances, housing, child rearing, the death of our parents, church problems, critical decisions, we have experienced them all. For more than four decades as a pastor, Pat helped me carefully present ourselves with an appropriate, positive and hopeful public demeanor in spite of what was happening in our personal lives. I live with a sense of awe and wonder at the great gift God presented to me in Pat.
One of the times Pat’s role was amplified came as Jonathan and I were riding together after a day’s work together at Vailsburg Assembly in Newark. The mile marker on the Garden State Parkway is still visible mentally. As we rode, Jon shared how Lillian, his girl friend, was reluctant to live in a city and didn’t much like the church forming in Newark. After elaborating on what Lillian didn’t like about urban life and the church, Jon asked, “Dad, what do you think I ought to do?”
In retrospect, I believe the Spirit gave me a word of wisdom when I answered without having anticipated the question, “Don’t expect Lillian to change. You better be prepared to adapt to the dreams she has for her life, or you will be miserable.”
A few days later, at the same Parkway mile marker already mentioned, Jon initiated another conversation. He opened with, “Dad, I broke up with Lillian.” Pat and I knew because we were able to use our telephone and he was spending quiet evenings at home instead of driving eighty miles round trip to see the young lady we thought would be our daughter-in-law.
On the second ride homeward, Jon asked where he could find someone with whom he could share life and ministry. “Dad, I have graduated and am not meeting people like when I was in college. While I assured Jon that breaking up is painful and that the Lord would give him someone. I then asked, “What are you looking for?”
Jon’s brief and ready answer was startling and revealing. He said, “I want someone as crazy as Mom!”
“As crazy as Mom?” I asked. “What do you mean by that?”
“Dad, everyone knows you attempt to do crazy things no one else even thinks of doing. And, Mom is right there with you! She never refuses and always helps. That’s what I need and want.”
The second word of wisdom came without hesitation, the Spirit simply gave me counsel to share. “Look around to see who is already doing the things that will complement what you believe God wants you to do. Then, you will know.” We were shortly looking forward to a wedding. Miriam had already been immersed in the ministries of Vailsburg Assembly as an intern, and she is as crazy as Pat!
I have learned, and know from experience, friends allow one another to be crazy. Pat has stood should-to-shoulder with me embracing the unthinkable, attempting the impossible, experiencing the miracles. She has brought a balance to life. I am blessed!
Since or simple honeymoon, shortened by one week because the supply pastor refused to fill the pulpit for a second Sunday, Pat has been a faithful, loving companion. We returned to the three small lean-to rooms at the rear of the church, and established the satisfying rhythms of married life. After nearly 45 years, I remain amazed that Pat and I have never been “down” at the same time and that Pat has never refused to embrace a dream I’ve shared.
She and I have faced some daunting challenges together, but one of us has always been able to summon the high road of faith and hope while the other may have doubted or even despaired. Health, finances, housing, child rearing, the death of our parents, church problems, critical decisions, we have experienced them all. For more than four decades as a pastor, Pat helped me carefully present ourselves with an appropriate, positive and hopeful public demeanor in spite of what was happening in our personal lives. I live with a sense of awe and wonder at the great gift God presented to me in Pat.
One of the times Pat’s role was amplified came as Jonathan and I were riding together after a day’s work together at Vailsburg Assembly in Newark. The mile marker on the Garden State Parkway is still visible mentally. As we rode, Jon shared how Lillian, his girl friend, was reluctant to live in a city and didn’t much like the church forming in Newark. After elaborating on what Lillian didn’t like about urban life and the church, Jon asked, “Dad, what do you think I ought to do?”
In retrospect, I believe the Spirit gave me a word of wisdom when I answered without having anticipated the question, “Don’t expect Lillian to change. You better be prepared to adapt to the dreams she has for her life, or you will be miserable.”
A few days later, at the same Parkway mile marker already mentioned, Jon initiated another conversation. He opened with, “Dad, I broke up with Lillian.” Pat and I knew because we were able to use our telephone and he was spending quiet evenings at home instead of driving eighty miles round trip to see the young lady we thought would be our daughter-in-law.
On the second ride homeward, Jon asked where he could find someone with whom he could share life and ministry. “Dad, I have graduated and am not meeting people like when I was in college. While I assured Jon that breaking up is painful and that the Lord would give him someone. I then asked, “What are you looking for?”
Jon’s brief and ready answer was startling and revealing. He said, “I want someone as crazy as Mom!”
“As crazy as Mom?” I asked. “What do you mean by that?”
“Dad, everyone knows you attempt to do crazy things no one else even thinks of doing. And, Mom is right there with you! She never refuses and always helps. That’s what I need and want.”
The second word of wisdom came without hesitation, the Spirit simply gave me counsel to share. “Look around to see who is already doing the things that will complement what you believe God wants you to do. Then, you will know.” We were shortly looking forward to a wedding. Miriam had already been immersed in the ministries of Vailsburg Assembly as an intern, and she is as crazy as Pat!
I have learned, and know from experience, friends allow one another to be crazy. Pat has stood should-to-shoulder with me embracing the unthinkable, attempting the impossible, experiencing the miracles. She has brought a balance to life. I am blessed!
Friday, September 9, 2011
Friendship - Part Three
Every year college alumni gather, mill about remembering “the good old days” and wondering how everyone else aged, but they did not. I will probably never attend a high school reunion because Cass Tech was a magnet school and out-of-class friendships were rare, and we never lived in Detroit following graduation. But, in November I plan to attend homecoming events at Central Bible College and continue conversations, some of which began in 1962. Some classmates have excelled in their vocation and their names are well known. Others are not so well know, but in addition to completing a wonderful body of work, have been our true friends.
Bob and Judy have led one church for over 40 years. Their body of work is quiet and thorough, and, unfortunately, rarely celebrated by their peers. Pat and I have observed their zeal for missions, a sensitivity to people others tend to look past, and a world class sense of humor. I actually read all of Bob’s e-mail – even puns which exhaust my supply of groans. While “shooting stars” zoom about on the horizons of our vocation, Bob and Judy have been the “Steady Eddies” who offer a sane, Biblical ministry to people in their community. Has anyone you know hosted and organized a food pantry for decades? Friends like Bob and Judy model and reinforce worthy values.
Other friends have come to us on other paths. We were introduced to Tony and Judy in the 90's. Tony is an accomplished businessman who has served on ministry boards, and patiently answered my endless questions about finance and real estate. I’ll never forget Tony drawing a diagram of a practical finance plan on the back of a restaurant place mat while we waited for our entrees. Not every home missionary has a financial guru on his team! Their time share in Hilton Head has been a retreat for us when Pat and I were exhausted. Without being aware, Tony can share with me, and Judy with Pat, a fresh perspective, or remind us of what we have allowed to slip from practice. Friends offer ballast!
Joe is better known than most of our other friends. For more than 30 years he has called at the right moment, asked the correct question, offered the wise counsel – often without knowing how much his life has influenced ours. To hear Joe say, “Hi, Otto! How are you doing?” Before his retirement his first statement was most often, “How can I help you?” Many times Joe simply allowed me to talk until I could see the proper direction to take. He, more than any other, has been the one the Lord has used to correct me, usually without knowing it. The contributions of friends like Joe are hard to catagorize, but their presence makes life better, much, much better.
In 1991 Pat and I were introduced to Ralph and Louise. They arrived in Newark, New Jersey having driven their Chevy Suburban loaded with tools, all the way from Flint, Michigan. Quiet, unassuming, and adept in construction skills, Ralph goes about his tasks without notice, unless you are working with him. (Ralph outworks men half his age!) Until 2009 Ralph and Louise helped with various projects. The tasks included installing a heating system and restrooms in Vailsburg Assembly of God; doing all the plumbing for 3½ bathrooms and kitchen in Highway Tabernacle’s renovated parsonage; replacing the heating system in Highway’s sanctuary; and then installing a new heating system and restrooms in Resurrection Life Church.
Much of the time we shared a home with Ralph and Louise and watched their unselfish service, impeccable character and very healthy sense of humor. I’ll always remember a moment when Ralph and I were riding together and I asked, “Can we talk real seriously for a minute?”
Ralph’s answer, “Have I done something wrong?”
My response was, “No, I just want to tell you how much you have taught me. You are veteran of World War Two, have reared a family, retired, and now give away your time, skills, and life in places like Newark and Philadelphia. You are teaching me how to grow older and how to never outgrow being unselfish.”
Ralph’s response is unforgettable, “Otto, I am only doing what I think the Lord wants me to do.”
For Ralph and Louise, giving more than four years of life, working in unheated buildings in winter, digging trenches, sweating pipes, slithering about in crawl spaces, climbing scaffolds more than 20 feet high (at age 80) is “no big deal!” It’s just what the Lord wants us to do! Friends like these balance between public and private. They urge all who observe away from pride and toward true humility. Advancing years and failing health prohibit trips for our friends, but telephone conversations are filled with laughter and recollection of great shared experiences.
All these friends I have mentioned, and there are many more, have been in our lives more than twenty years! A man with friends is rich!
If something happens to keep us from attending our college homecoming, we’ll be disappointed. But friendships will continue.
Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:
If one falls down, his friend can help him up.
But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12)
Bob and Judy have led one church for over 40 years. Their body of work is quiet and thorough, and, unfortunately, rarely celebrated by their peers. Pat and I have observed their zeal for missions, a sensitivity to people others tend to look past, and a world class sense of humor. I actually read all of Bob’s e-mail – even puns which exhaust my supply of groans. While “shooting stars” zoom about on the horizons of our vocation, Bob and Judy have been the “Steady Eddies” who offer a sane, Biblical ministry to people in their community. Has anyone you know hosted and organized a food pantry for decades? Friends like Bob and Judy model and reinforce worthy values.
Other friends have come to us on other paths. We were introduced to Tony and Judy in the 90's. Tony is an accomplished businessman who has served on ministry boards, and patiently answered my endless questions about finance and real estate. I’ll never forget Tony drawing a diagram of a practical finance plan on the back of a restaurant place mat while we waited for our entrees. Not every home missionary has a financial guru on his team! Their time share in Hilton Head has been a retreat for us when Pat and I were exhausted. Without being aware, Tony can share with me, and Judy with Pat, a fresh perspective, or remind us of what we have allowed to slip from practice. Friends offer ballast!
Joe is better known than most of our other friends. For more than 30 years he has called at the right moment, asked the correct question, offered the wise counsel – often without knowing how much his life has influenced ours. To hear Joe say, “Hi, Otto! How are you doing?” Before his retirement his first statement was most often, “How can I help you?” Many times Joe simply allowed me to talk until I could see the proper direction to take. He, more than any other, has been the one the Lord has used to correct me, usually without knowing it. The contributions of friends like Joe are hard to catagorize, but their presence makes life better, much, much better.
In 1991 Pat and I were introduced to Ralph and Louise. They arrived in Newark, New Jersey having driven their Chevy Suburban loaded with tools, all the way from Flint, Michigan. Quiet, unassuming, and adept in construction skills, Ralph goes about his tasks without notice, unless you are working with him. (Ralph outworks men half his age!) Until 2009 Ralph and Louise helped with various projects. The tasks included installing a heating system and restrooms in Vailsburg Assembly of God; doing all the plumbing for 3½ bathrooms and kitchen in Highway Tabernacle’s renovated parsonage; replacing the heating system in Highway’s sanctuary; and then installing a new heating system and restrooms in Resurrection Life Church.
Much of the time we shared a home with Ralph and Louise and watched their unselfish service, impeccable character and very healthy sense of humor. I’ll always remember a moment when Ralph and I were riding together and I asked, “Can we talk real seriously for a minute?”
Ralph’s answer, “Have I done something wrong?”
My response was, “No, I just want to tell you how much you have taught me. You are veteran of World War Two, have reared a family, retired, and now give away your time, skills, and life in places like Newark and Philadelphia. You are teaching me how to grow older and how to never outgrow being unselfish.”
Ralph’s response is unforgettable, “Otto, I am only doing what I think the Lord wants me to do.”
For Ralph and Louise, giving more than four years of life, working in unheated buildings in winter, digging trenches, sweating pipes, slithering about in crawl spaces, climbing scaffolds more than 20 feet high (at age 80) is “no big deal!” It’s just what the Lord wants us to do! Friends like these balance between public and private. They urge all who observe away from pride and toward true humility. Advancing years and failing health prohibit trips for our friends, but telephone conversations are filled with laughter and recollection of great shared experiences.
All these friends I have mentioned, and there are many more, have been in our lives more than twenty years! A man with friends is rich!
If something happens to keep us from attending our college homecoming, we’ll be disappointed. But friendships will continue.
Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:
If one falls down, his friend can help him up.
But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12)
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Friends - Part Two
Friends are separated from acquaintances by one distinguishing fact. Friends are present when everyone else leaves. Acquaintances move on when enduring contact is inconvenient or difficult. Friends hang in there!
Like you, we have passed through difficult seasons in life. One friend stands out during a time when we faced difficult disappointment and distress. (Only those who have mastered the art of denial have not known distress.) The season seemed endless and many we had counted as friends were strangely absent. We had done no wrong, but felt ostracized and very alone, unsure with whom we could confide.
During the time mentioned, a seminary professor with whom we were acquainted called asking, “Is everything all right with you?” The scholar was a specialist in human behavior, especially in the area of stress.
My response was, “Sure, why do you ask?” I was unsure if I should really level with my caller. (You would be paranoid too, if everyone was out to get you!)
The professor, with whom we had shared a meal and our pulpit, replied, “The Holy Spirit awakened me last night and ordered me to pray for you. I have prayed for several hours and, since this is not an ordinary experience for me, I would like to know what is happening in your life.”
I had also been awake, helping God remember my name, circumstances, and list of my endless troubles. On hearing my caller’s explanation, with relief that comes with the Spirit’s permission, I unloaded several months of pent-up woes, hard-to-express feelings, and growing fears.
The kind professor, listened patiently and then said, “First, remember you cannot control what others do. Second, God has not forgotten you, nor will He abandon you. And, now that I know what is happening, I will faithfully fast and pray for you until the Lord brings you through this season.”
That brother was from another denomination, and as a result, our paths have seldom crossed. But, he remains a friend with far-reaching influence. The manner in which the friendship was initiated reminds me that, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” (James 1:17) Or, in my personal translation, “If it is good, it didn’t start with me!”
Thank you friends! We love you!
Like you, we have passed through difficult seasons in life. One friend stands out during a time when we faced difficult disappointment and distress. (Only those who have mastered the art of denial have not known distress.) The season seemed endless and many we had counted as friends were strangely absent. We had done no wrong, but felt ostracized and very alone, unsure with whom we could confide.
During the time mentioned, a seminary professor with whom we were acquainted called asking, “Is everything all right with you?” The scholar was a specialist in human behavior, especially in the area of stress.
My response was, “Sure, why do you ask?” I was unsure if I should really level with my caller. (You would be paranoid too, if everyone was out to get you!)
The professor, with whom we had shared a meal and our pulpit, replied, “The Holy Spirit awakened me last night and ordered me to pray for you. I have prayed for several hours and, since this is not an ordinary experience for me, I would like to know what is happening in your life.”
I had also been awake, helping God remember my name, circumstances, and list of my endless troubles. On hearing my caller’s explanation, with relief that comes with the Spirit’s permission, I unloaded several months of pent-up woes, hard-to-express feelings, and growing fears.
The kind professor, listened patiently and then said, “First, remember you cannot control what others do. Second, God has not forgotten you, nor will He abandon you. And, now that I know what is happening, I will faithfully fast and pray for you until the Lord brings you through this season.”
That brother was from another denomination, and as a result, our paths have seldom crossed. But, he remains a friend with far-reaching influence. The manner in which the friendship was initiated reminds me that, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” (James 1:17) Or, in my personal translation, “If it is good, it didn’t start with me!”
Thank you friends! We love you!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Friends!
While visiting a Florida church, the pastor made a very insightful statement. He said, “The hardest thing for a pastor to do is ‘keep his balance.’” Often in the same day we are called on to weep and laugh, to spend and save, to decide and delay, to visit families of new born infants and attend funerals. To balance between illness and healing, to share with those in poverty and then hours later address the needs of those with plenty requires wisdom and maturity. As an aside, a very rich man once told me that the poverty of his youth was less troublesome than the riches in later life because he now struggled with who his true friends.
One of God’s greatest accomplishments, in my opinion, is the creation of friends, confidants who speak wisdom, counsel, balance into our lives. We tend to oversteer, overreact, overreach, or freeze in fear of making the wrong decision. Friends bring ballast! This week I will share how God brought friends into our lives, people who saved us from terrible errors, and added blessing.
When we moved to Lansing Michigan to pastor Calvary Assembly of God, the Lord brought Carl Graves into my life. Brother Graves was well respected throughout the Michigan District and beyond. I knew about him, saw him at events, but did not know how much one person could bless another. Shortly after moving to Lansing, Brother and Sister Graves attended a church service. He often played a coronet as the congregation sang and on occasion sang a special number, accompanying himself on an autoharp. The Grave’s presence always made services special.
It helps to know that the Graves Family is unique in 20th Century Pentecostal history. Carl’s father was Elder F. A. Graves, song writer and spiritual elder of Christ Assembly in Zion City, Illinois. You may learn more about the church and Graves Family at http://www.christianassemblyzion.org/SiteFiles/105903/Content/Images/History.pdf. Some of Elder Grave’s songs include “Honey in the rock,” and “He was nailed to the cross for me.” Arthur Graves, Carl’s brother, was a long tenured professor at what is now Southeastern University. A sister, Mildred, married an early Pentecostal scholar, Myer Pearlman, after whom Central Bible College’s library is named. Before pastoring in Michigan, Carl and his wife Bertha served in what now is Sri Lanka.
Carl Graves carried his family’s history and their life experience into our friendship. Forty years my senior, Brother Graves shared anecdotes, insights into Scripture, and a full bodied sense of humor into conversations. On an occasion when I was troubled by an action and decision of someone I loved, I asked Brother Graves, “How can we read the same Bible and come to diametrically opposite conclusions?”
“Well brother, have you ever stopped at a stop sign, looked both ways and then started out?” he asked.
“Sure,” I answered, “Even while on my way to your home today.”
“Have you ever, after starting out, heard a horn blow, tires screeching against pavement, and realized you were about to cause a collision?”
“Yes, that has happened!”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t see the other vehicle!”
To my reply, Brother Graves shared a most valuable life lesson, saying, “Brother, we all have blind spots, even you and me!” That lesson is still part of a personal encyclopedia of wisdom the Holy Spirit has written on the tablets of my heart. My friend enriched my life with that lesson in 1978, and the lesson continues to serve me well.
Thank God for friends!
One of God’s greatest accomplishments, in my opinion, is the creation of friends, confidants who speak wisdom, counsel, balance into our lives. We tend to oversteer, overreact, overreach, or freeze in fear of making the wrong decision. Friends bring ballast! This week I will share how God brought friends into our lives, people who saved us from terrible errors, and added blessing.
When we moved to Lansing Michigan to pastor Calvary Assembly of God, the Lord brought Carl Graves into my life. Brother Graves was well respected throughout the Michigan District and beyond. I knew about him, saw him at events, but did not know how much one person could bless another. Shortly after moving to Lansing, Brother and Sister Graves attended a church service. He often played a coronet as the congregation sang and on occasion sang a special number, accompanying himself on an autoharp. The Grave’s presence always made services special.
It helps to know that the Graves Family is unique in 20th Century Pentecostal history. Carl’s father was Elder F. A. Graves, song writer and spiritual elder of Christ Assembly in Zion City, Illinois. You may learn more about the church and Graves Family at http://www.christianassemblyzion.org/SiteFiles/105903/Content/Images/History.pdf. Some of Elder Grave’s songs include “Honey in the rock,” and “He was nailed to the cross for me.” Arthur Graves, Carl’s brother, was a long tenured professor at what is now Southeastern University. A sister, Mildred, married an early Pentecostal scholar, Myer Pearlman, after whom Central Bible College’s library is named. Before pastoring in Michigan, Carl and his wife Bertha served in what now is Sri Lanka.
Carl Graves carried his family’s history and their life experience into our friendship. Forty years my senior, Brother Graves shared anecdotes, insights into Scripture, and a full bodied sense of humor into conversations. On an occasion when I was troubled by an action and decision of someone I loved, I asked Brother Graves, “How can we read the same Bible and come to diametrically opposite conclusions?”
“Well brother, have you ever stopped at a stop sign, looked both ways and then started out?” he asked.
“Sure,” I answered, “Even while on my way to your home today.”
“Have you ever, after starting out, heard a horn blow, tires screeching against pavement, and realized you were about to cause a collision?”
“Yes, that has happened!”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t see the other vehicle!”
To my reply, Brother Graves shared a most valuable life lesson, saying, “Brother, we all have blind spots, even you and me!” That lesson is still part of a personal encyclopedia of wisdom the Holy Spirit has written on the tablets of my heart. My friend enriched my life with that lesson in 1978, and the lesson continues to serve me well.
Thank God for friends!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Our Father Knows - Part Four
In a rush-to-market world, we tend to forget the context of stories, carelessly misplacing salient facts, skipping directly to the punch lines. We overlook the delays between promise and fulfillment. Writers and speakers are aware, if too much detail is added, readers and listeners will lose interest and tune out.
To illustrate, some have never had to limit their diet to foods in season. Planes daily move foods inter-continentally and we have grown accustomed to eating what we want when we want it. My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Pierce, an Irish Canadian with flaming red hair and short fuse, told our class how, as a little girl, she saw oranges only once a year, in the toe of each family member’s Christmas stocking. Oranges seldom reached her village. When they did, her family was too poor to enjoy oranges more than once a year.
Growing up in Michigan, strawberries appeared on my family’s dessert plates only a few times, for about two weeks in early summer, when nearby farmers brought the best berries in the world to Detroit markets. We ate what was in season or canned foods. In contrast, this morning I sliced a banana grown in South America and added the color of fresh strawberries from California.
The wonder-filled, miraculous events Pat and I have experienced, occasions when God intervened in an unforgettable way, are all true. But, I omitted details in an effort to keep the story short, to keep readers reading. For instance, Pat and I shared five or more days of dry uncertainty between our offer on a house being refused and the miraculous events I related. Weeks of delay preceded Mr. Foreman appearing as an angel and rescuing Calvary Assembly.
One night, immediately before the heaven-sent events that led to the purchase of our first home, I was restless, sleepless. (My definition of worry is, “staying awake and reminding God of things I am convinced He has forgotten!”) I knew the right verses, could repeat anecdotes of God’s interventions, and looked confident in public, but, at night, when alone, I was a mess. After tossing and turning, hearing the grandfather clock chime 1:00 AM, 2:00AM ... Pat very comfortingly suggested, “If you have to stay awake, why don’t you get out of bed so I can sleep?” Such empathy!
Wrapped in a robe, I shuffled in slippered feet to a makeshift basement study. The Spirit prompted me to begin reading The Revelation. I reasoned, “Well, John did write that everyone who read the words of the book and did them would be blessed.” I need to be blessed!
The first chapters of The Revelation are a district superintendent’s worst nightmare. All but one church was in doctrinal, moral or ethical trouble. I missed the part about the radiance of Jesus in chapter one. I was preoccupied with my burden, my fear. I forgot who was presiding in the heavens. Following chapters are full of horses and horsemen. I found no solace or encouragement in pits, whore, or flowing blood. Besides, I was chilled, and alone, so alone.
Suddenly, amid all the despair, dread, and doubt the Spirit lifted The Eternal Word into time, my time. Into space, my space. In the darkest hour I had known to that date, “The Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End,” appeared, not visibly, but surely, absolutely, unquestionably present. Simultaneously, I read chapter 11, verse 15, there, amid witnesses in sack cloth, seals, swords and bloodied streets I heard, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign forever and ever!” I sat in silence, worshiped without voice. The place was too sacred, too holy. After a while, I closed my Bible and went back to bed and slept!
Israel’s Negev is a dry, barren, fruitless, huge and bland stretch of real estate. There are no mountains, no rivers, no trees. It is in the Negev where Abraham, the father of the faith, lived, built altars and pitched his tents. Moses herded sheep there – for forty years. Neither Abraham, nor Moses, lived to see the fullness of God’s promise.
Jesus spent less time in Jerusalem, the power place of established religion than he did in Capernaum, Bethsaida and Chorazin. The spaces between divine interventions can appear as endless deserts.
A gospel song from my childhood seems to fit here.
The Lord's our Rock, in Him we hide,
A Shelter in the time of storm;
Secure whatever ill betide,
A Shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
A shade by day, defense by night,
A shelter in the time of storm;
No fears alarm, no foes afright,
A shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
The raging storms may round us beat,
A shelter in the time of storm
We'll never leave our safe retreat,
A shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
O Rock divine, O Refuge dear,
A Shelter in the time of storm;
Be Thou our helper ever near,
A Shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
Walk on dear friends! Jesus will deliver us safely to the promised destination!
To illustrate, some have never had to limit their diet to foods in season. Planes daily move foods inter-continentally and we have grown accustomed to eating what we want when we want it. My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Pierce, an Irish Canadian with flaming red hair and short fuse, told our class how, as a little girl, she saw oranges only once a year, in the toe of each family member’s Christmas stocking. Oranges seldom reached her village. When they did, her family was too poor to enjoy oranges more than once a year.
Growing up in Michigan, strawberries appeared on my family’s dessert plates only a few times, for about two weeks in early summer, when nearby farmers brought the best berries in the world to Detroit markets. We ate what was in season or canned foods. In contrast, this morning I sliced a banana grown in South America and added the color of fresh strawberries from California.
The wonder-filled, miraculous events Pat and I have experienced, occasions when God intervened in an unforgettable way, are all true. But, I omitted details in an effort to keep the story short, to keep readers reading. For instance, Pat and I shared five or more days of dry uncertainty between our offer on a house being refused and the miraculous events I related. Weeks of delay preceded Mr. Foreman appearing as an angel and rescuing Calvary Assembly.
One night, immediately before the heaven-sent events that led to the purchase of our first home, I was restless, sleepless. (My definition of worry is, “staying awake and reminding God of things I am convinced He has forgotten!”) I knew the right verses, could repeat anecdotes of God’s interventions, and looked confident in public, but, at night, when alone, I was a mess. After tossing and turning, hearing the grandfather clock chime 1:00 AM, 2:00AM ... Pat very comfortingly suggested, “If you have to stay awake, why don’t you get out of bed so I can sleep?” Such empathy!
Wrapped in a robe, I shuffled in slippered feet to a makeshift basement study. The Spirit prompted me to begin reading The Revelation. I reasoned, “Well, John did write that everyone who read the words of the book and did them would be blessed.” I need to be blessed!
The first chapters of The Revelation are a district superintendent’s worst nightmare. All but one church was in doctrinal, moral or ethical trouble. I missed the part about the radiance of Jesus in chapter one. I was preoccupied with my burden, my fear. I forgot who was presiding in the heavens. Following chapters are full of horses and horsemen. I found no solace or encouragement in pits, whore, or flowing blood. Besides, I was chilled, and alone, so alone.
Suddenly, amid all the despair, dread, and doubt the Spirit lifted The Eternal Word into time, my time. Into space, my space. In the darkest hour I had known to that date, “The Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End,” appeared, not visibly, but surely, absolutely, unquestionably present. Simultaneously, I read chapter 11, verse 15, there, amid witnesses in sack cloth, seals, swords and bloodied streets I heard, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign forever and ever!” I sat in silence, worshiped without voice. The place was too sacred, too holy. After a while, I closed my Bible and went back to bed and slept!
Israel’s Negev is a dry, barren, fruitless, huge and bland stretch of real estate. There are no mountains, no rivers, no trees. It is in the Negev where Abraham, the father of the faith, lived, built altars and pitched his tents. Moses herded sheep there – for forty years. Neither Abraham, nor Moses, lived to see the fullness of God’s promise.
Jesus spent less time in Jerusalem, the power place of established religion than he did in Capernaum, Bethsaida and Chorazin. The spaces between divine interventions can appear as endless deserts.
A gospel song from my childhood seems to fit here.
The Lord's our Rock, in Him we hide,
A Shelter in the time of storm;
Secure whatever ill betide,
A Shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
A shade by day, defense by night,
A shelter in the time of storm;
No fears alarm, no foes afright,
A shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
The raging storms may round us beat,
A shelter in the time of storm
We'll never leave our safe retreat,
A shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
O Rock divine, O Refuge dear,
A Shelter in the time of storm;
Be Thou our helper ever near,
A Shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land, a weary land;
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
Walk on dear friends! Jesus will deliver us safely to the promised destination!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Our Father Knows - Part Three
Saint James shares a most important truth of practical theology. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.” (1:2-3) Others may be able to happily clap their hands, sing lustily, and smile endlessly in the face of trials, but I have been severely challenged in this area. I know how to put on the “game face” for church gatherings, preach faith and confidence with a grin, and even pray with faith for others. But, when alone, dark doubts brood and the enemy of my soul has spoken eloquently, convincingly.
In 1988 we left Bethany Church a congregation we had loved and served for over ten years. The congregation was a tremendous support, a family, during our prime time parenting years. In 1988 all three of our children were teens. Candace was a freshman at Wheaton College. Jonathan was half way through high school, and Joanna was finishing junior high. It was not an easy time to make a major vocational change.
The congregation was gracious and generous, allowing us to live in the parsonage until we found our own home. At age 44, we had lived in parsonages for over twenty years and had never purchased our own home. We didn’t know how to start, but lumbered forward clumsily searching for a place near our church planting ministry assignment.
Our family will never forget walking through a suitable house in an ideal location. Since our budget limited, we offered the sellers what we could afford, approximately $50,000 less than the asking price. The sellers laughed! My confidence was fragile and I was devastated.
While driving away from that disappointing chapter in our house hunting saga, Jonathan asked, “Where will we live Dad?” I answered, “I don’t know.”
But, Dad, “I play basketball and I want to know where I’ll be going to school.”
Joanna added, “Dad, I have a lot of friends at Eisenhower, can’t we just stay where we are?”
I had to say, “No, I don’t think that will happen.”
I think I saw tears when I looked into their faces through the rear view mirror, and I think I heard muffled cries. Candace did her best with, “The Bible says that God will take care of us, doesn’t it?” It was a question more than a statement of faith. I needed help!
I turned toward Pat and saw tears filling her eyes. She was uncharacteristically shaken. Her faith had always been rock solid, but not today! I felt I was all alone. There was no joyful effusive hand-clapping joy in the car that gray, cold winter afternoon.
Our Father in heaven knows what we need before we ask. I knew that intellectually, but I just couldn’t see how it was working out practically. One evening soon after that dark afternoon I opened the newspaper to search the columns advertising houses in the classifieds. There, in black and white, was a house whose description satisfied our needs, a FISBO (for sale by owner). This is where the story sets the cadence for feet to dance, hands to clap, spirits to soar and faces to grin!
Pat and I reviewed the listing before calling. We both thought the newspaper had made a typographical error. The price was simply too low. When I called a telephone repairman answered. He said, “Just a minute, I’ll let you talk to the homeowner.” The owner assured me that the newspaper listing was accurate and welcomed us to look at the house – right then. The house had been listed for several days, but the phone line was broken and the sellers had received no calls until ours, just as the repairman finished his work..
The house was a filthy mess, but the “bones” were good. We noticed hardwood floors under pet soiled carpeting. Five bedrooms and two baths was more than we would have settled for a few days before. The location was excellent! And, the seller came down $2,500! I wrote a small check as an earnest money deposit.
It gets better! (Are you grinning yet?) In addition to our savings, the banker told us we needed an additional $25,000 for a down payment to qualify for the mortgage. Had I just thrown the earnest money away? We needed to double our savings.
When Pat and I arrived home, we told Candace, Jonathan and Joanna that we had bought a house. After the initial excitement, they told us to return a call from friends, members of Bethany Church. I was invited to their home the next morning. I initially refused because I was no longer their pastor. They agreed to speak only of personal matters, so I agree to visit.
The next morning I made my way to our friend’s home. I had only been there two or three times in ten years as they were faithful in church attendance and did not expect more. Their home was modest, smaller than the one I hoped to buy. They were retirees from factory jobs and lived frugally. They almost immediately asked, “Where will you live now that you will be a missionary?”
My reply, “I don’t know!”
They then asked, “Well, where do you want to live?”
I explained what happened the night before. In response, they said, “Well, then what is stopping you?”
How does one as proud and capable as me explain, “I need another $25,000 to qualify for a mortgage?” I tried mumbling, but they asked to me to speak up! I could hardly believe I was exposing how inadequate, helpless, vulnerable, and embarrassingly weak I was. Then it had all spilled out. I was at my most weak moment. The husband asked the wife, “Can you write a check or do we need to go to the bank?”
I left our friend’s home after an hour long visit, with a check for $25,000. They called it a gift, but Pat and I repaid them as quickly as we could.
From their home I went to our bank and spoke with the president who was familiar with our circumstances. “Mr. VanOstenbridge, I have a check here for $25,000. I believe I will now qualify for a mortgage.” I shared the details of the transaction, hired an attorney, and less than 30 days later, we moved into the first home we ever purchased.
Pat and I could never tell this story if it hadn’t been for the dark, dismal, faith-challenging days that brought us to the threshold of a life-changing, faith-building experience. It is easier to “consider it all joy” now that we know the outcomes. We know “what” we are to do but are still learning and perfecting the “how.”
Remember dear friends, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” (2 Corinthians 2:9)
In 1988 we left Bethany Church a congregation we had loved and served for over ten years. The congregation was a tremendous support, a family, during our prime time parenting years. In 1988 all three of our children were teens. Candace was a freshman at Wheaton College. Jonathan was half way through high school, and Joanna was finishing junior high. It was not an easy time to make a major vocational change.
The congregation was gracious and generous, allowing us to live in the parsonage until we found our own home. At age 44, we had lived in parsonages for over twenty years and had never purchased our own home. We didn’t know how to start, but lumbered forward clumsily searching for a place near our church planting ministry assignment.
Our family will never forget walking through a suitable house in an ideal location. Since our budget limited, we offered the sellers what we could afford, approximately $50,000 less than the asking price. The sellers laughed! My confidence was fragile and I was devastated.
While driving away from that disappointing chapter in our house hunting saga, Jonathan asked, “Where will we live Dad?” I answered, “I don’t know.”
But, Dad, “I play basketball and I want to know where I’ll be going to school.”
Joanna added, “Dad, I have a lot of friends at Eisenhower, can’t we just stay where we are?”
I had to say, “No, I don’t think that will happen.”
I think I saw tears when I looked into their faces through the rear view mirror, and I think I heard muffled cries. Candace did her best with, “The Bible says that God will take care of us, doesn’t it?” It was a question more than a statement of faith. I needed help!
I turned toward Pat and saw tears filling her eyes. She was uncharacteristically shaken. Her faith had always been rock solid, but not today! I felt I was all alone. There was no joyful effusive hand-clapping joy in the car that gray, cold winter afternoon.
Our Father in heaven knows what we need before we ask. I knew that intellectually, but I just couldn’t see how it was working out practically. One evening soon after that dark afternoon I opened the newspaper to search the columns advertising houses in the classifieds. There, in black and white, was a house whose description satisfied our needs, a FISBO (for sale by owner). This is where the story sets the cadence for feet to dance, hands to clap, spirits to soar and faces to grin!
Pat and I reviewed the listing before calling. We both thought the newspaper had made a typographical error. The price was simply too low. When I called a telephone repairman answered. He said, “Just a minute, I’ll let you talk to the homeowner.” The owner assured me that the newspaper listing was accurate and welcomed us to look at the house – right then. The house had been listed for several days, but the phone line was broken and the sellers had received no calls until ours, just as the repairman finished his work..
The house was a filthy mess, but the “bones” were good. We noticed hardwood floors under pet soiled carpeting. Five bedrooms and two baths was more than we would have settled for a few days before. The location was excellent! And, the seller came down $2,500! I wrote a small check as an earnest money deposit.
It gets better! (Are you grinning yet?) In addition to our savings, the banker told us we needed an additional $25,000 for a down payment to qualify for the mortgage. Had I just thrown the earnest money away? We needed to double our savings.
When Pat and I arrived home, we told Candace, Jonathan and Joanna that we had bought a house. After the initial excitement, they told us to return a call from friends, members of Bethany Church. I was invited to their home the next morning. I initially refused because I was no longer their pastor. They agreed to speak only of personal matters, so I agree to visit.
The next morning I made my way to our friend’s home. I had only been there two or three times in ten years as they were faithful in church attendance and did not expect more. Their home was modest, smaller than the one I hoped to buy. They were retirees from factory jobs and lived frugally. They almost immediately asked, “Where will you live now that you will be a missionary?”
My reply, “I don’t know!”
They then asked, “Well, where do you want to live?”
I explained what happened the night before. In response, they said, “Well, then what is stopping you?”
How does one as proud and capable as me explain, “I need another $25,000 to qualify for a mortgage?” I tried mumbling, but they asked to me to speak up! I could hardly believe I was exposing how inadequate, helpless, vulnerable, and embarrassingly weak I was. Then it had all spilled out. I was at my most weak moment. The husband asked the wife, “Can you write a check or do we need to go to the bank?”
I left our friend’s home after an hour long visit, with a check for $25,000. They called it a gift, but Pat and I repaid them as quickly as we could.
From their home I went to our bank and spoke with the president who was familiar with our circumstances. “Mr. VanOstenbridge, I have a check here for $25,000. I believe I will now qualify for a mortgage.” I shared the details of the transaction, hired an attorney, and less than 30 days later, we moved into the first home we ever purchased.
Pat and I could never tell this story if it hadn’t been for the dark, dismal, faith-challenging days that brought us to the threshold of a life-changing, faith-building experience. It is easier to “consider it all joy” now that we know the outcomes. We know “what” we are to do but are still learning and perfecting the “how.”
Remember dear friends, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” (2 Corinthians 2:9)
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