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
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
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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