Divine Appointment-Copenhagen

Unfortunately, many sailors in the navy do other things than look for a church when they hit port. Bars get busier, brothels cash in and restaurants serve lots of food to those tired of ship board fare.

I must have had duty because I stayed on the ship that first day in port.  The first wave of sailors went over and came back with wild tales of debauchery--couples being intimate in broad daylight in the parks, homosexuals trying to pick up a date with bold invitations, live stage shows with unmentionable acts.  It was obvious that Copenhagen had it's share of evil.

But where evil abounds so much more does grace abound.  I knew if evil had a strong presence in Copenhagen then my Father had a strong presence there too.  One of my shipmates handed me a flyer in Danish that mentioned something about Jesus...I could at least make that out.

As I left the bridge with the flyer in hand I asked the Father to show me to his people in this city.  I remember going down several ladders to get to my berthing compartment.  Along the way, another of my shipmates caught me and said "Hey Murf, I know where some of your people are!"  He proceeded to give me directions to a group doing street evangelism with drama.

I made my way across the city with growing excitement looking forward to fellowship with other believers.  I found the street group, YWAMer's (Youth With A Mission), who also had a coffee house in town in the building where they lived.  I went back there with them, spent time among a group from all over the world there to make witness to Christ.

One evening we sat in the coffeehouse chatting with an avowed Communist.  Another fellow was also at the table with me.  We shared our belief in a God who was there and enjoyed a challenging conversation.  When finished I discovered the fellow was from TX, had read Schaeffer and was tracking with me as we shared our faith with the young man.

As we left one evening walking back across the city me and a couple of guys who were with me sensed that someone was following us.  As we pondered it we agreed that it was the presence of the Holy Spirit that was escorting us.

We ended up our visit in Copenhagen sharing communion with the YWAMer's there and departed to find our next adventure in Christ...courtesy of the US navy. 

By the way, Brother Andrew also worked out of that building.  Our ship had been rumored to possibly be making a trip into Leningrad--a first since WWII.  I took the occasion to pick up 10 Russian New Testaments to be delivered to someone when and if I ever arrived there.

Divine Appointment-Greece

I hadn't thought of it until this morning as I pondered writing this post that God is able to orchestrate things even using the US navy.

On our trip to the Mediterranean we were scheduled to go to Barcelona.  Instead, some type of crisis in the middle east diverted us to Greece (but God used it as you will see!).  We were to go into port there later in the cruise but this time we were diverted to Piraeus, a smaller port alongside Athens where a berth was available for us.

My captain was better suited to steer a desk but had to do some sea time to keep on his upward path.  Put someone like that in a small port like Piraeus and something is going to get broken.  In our case it was the main prop that got nicked on the anchor chain of another boat.  An expensive driving lesson.

Once we got tied up liberty was called and we flooded into town.  One of the first places a sailor goes is to the USO to get oriented.  They were braced for our arrival because when we came into town we brought with us about 5,000 friends...all a part of our group.

I walked up to the information desk to inquire about an English speaking church for services the next day, Sunday.  The desk clerk excitedly told me that she had been praying that she would be able to direct some of the arriving sailors to her church...God preparing the way.

It was at this church service the next day that I met the kids backpacking around Europe who introduced me to Francis Schaeffer and his books, particularly The God Who Is There.

Can you see how the Father who knows the hairs on our head and feeds every bird prepared the way for me to find someone to help me witness to my shipmates?  My ship was heading to Barcelona and we got diverted to Athens.  The USO desk person just "happened" to be someone who wanted to lead others to her church.  The backpackers just "happened" to have found that church that morning and pointed me to a source of theological understanding that deepened my faith and sharpened my witness.

Today I know that as I sit here at my computer some 39 years later that God the Father knows where I am.  He knows how he has gifted me.  And he has a place for me to be at this time in my life.  May you know today how much he loves you and is aware of every breath you take.

My Mommy Told Me So

I had finished 2 1/2 years of college and some work before I went on active duty in the naval reserve.  But the world I encountered was far more complex than what I had seen up to that point.

As I began to get to know the guys on my ship and discuss my beliefs with them I realized that I was ill-prepared to answer all their questions.  I had been a Christian for years already but had never encountered real challenges to my faith.

As I began to meet the guys and get to know them I encountered the following.  One guy was a red-blooded Christian who believed the Vietnamese (who we were in a war with at the time) were just like dogs.  He wanted to kill them all.  He believed that's all they deserved.  Though he professed to "loving" Jesus I couldn't stomach his pure hatred for other creations of God.

Another fellow I met was practicing voodoo on board the ship when we were out to sea.  He would go out to the rescue boat on our ship after dark and practice his religion.  Although I never chatted with him much I heard about his "faith".

Two other fellows were obviously effeminate.  They shared their plans with everyone on the ship as they were preparing to get out of the navy.  They were going to leave their wives and join two other men and live as homosexual couples.  Again, not something I had talked about in Sunday School.

One of the other guys was a professing Mormon.  Seemed like a nice guy, quiet, clean cut but didn't seem to mix with the crew very well.

The guy who challenged me the most was a fellow who professed to being a metaphysician.  I was vocal about my faith as any good Baptist raised kid was.  I knew enough to get someone saved.  In fact, I probably had a PhD in salvation from all the biblical sermons and altar calls I had experienced in my growing up years.

But this guy really stopped me in my tracks.  As we shared our beliefs, he would always challenge me with the question, "How do you know God exists?"  That's when I realized that the best answer I could give him was because "My Mommy told me so!"  That's how deep my theology was at that time.

It was about this time that we encountered the backpackers in Athens, Greece at the English-speaking church service.  They pointed me to Francis Schaeffer and his book The God Who Is There.  It gave me the framework to begin understanding where the metaphysician was coming from.

Francis Schaeffer had come to his own crisis of faith in his early 50's and spent 3 years reading his Bible and pacing around a chalet in the Swiss Alps.  He arrived at the conclusion that God did exist and the Bible was true.  Subsequently, his children began to bring their college mates home and he developed a way to help them see the end of their philosophies.  They fell short in their claims and he led them to faith in Christ and belief in the Bible.  His home in Switzerland became known as L'Abri and young people from all over the world began to flock there to find faith from an intellectual base.

After reading Schaeffer's book and others as well as a trip to Switzerland (I'll share about that some other time) I began a time of discussions with the metaphysician.  We would stand on the bridge (an unoccupied space when in port) and discuss the reality of God and what I saw him doing in the world.  There was always a crowd of other guys standing around listening to us discuss.  That fellow never came to faith that I am aware of but the discussions impacted others on the ship and the body of Christ grew among us.

I had finally owned my own faith and it was deeper than the pat answer I was able to give before...because "My Mommy told me so."

I've often wondered--Who is carrying the mantel that Francis Schaeffer did in that time?  Who is answering the intellectual questions of those God-seekers who are searching for truth and reality.  Speaking to them in tongues probably isn't going to bring them to faith.  Neither is the flashy, loud, screaming TV preacher.  Who is helping those of us with a rational mind find a child-like faith in the Father? 

Jesus Freaks

A few years ago Pat mentioned that she and I were Jesus Freaks to someone that was a generation younger than us.  They laughed, hadn't heard the term and were surprised that we would want to be called such.

It was popularized during the late 60's, early 70's.  With the hippie movement and all its drugs, free love (cheap sex) and other revolutionary ideas about our culture there came a resurgence of a personal relationship with Jesus.  It wasn't typically encouraged in main stream denominational churches.  It had tastes of the hippie culture from ocean baptisms in CA to the congregating of east coast surfers in growing charismatic churches.  Young people were looking for meaning but weren't ready to give up their bell-bottomed jeans, long hair and off beat persona.

I had walked away from my involvement in church as a senior in high school.  It was costing me friends by being a "Christian" and I didn't see much difference in their life style and that of the kids outside of church.  But after wandering around in college for a couple of years I was longing for meaning and something to invest my life in.  I returned to a small Baptist church in Reynoldsburg, OH where I was living at the time.

It just so happened (Ha) that a radical Baptist pastor named Arthur Blessitt was dragging a cross across the US, preaching where he could, bringing kids out of the drug culture into a relationship with Jesus.  He had florescent orange stickers with a peace symbol on them that pointed to Christ.  He told of druggies, hippies, bikers, prostitutes and others who weren't typically welcomed in church finding peace and release in Jesus.  He really believed that the Acts of the Apostles could be lived again.  At 20 I was hungry to see that too.


In fact I had walked away from the church because it didn't seem relevant to the issues I was facing.  To hear that the Gospel was powerful enough to set people free was just what I was looking for.

I jumped on board and began the ride of a life time.  I became hungry to read the Bible and spent time with a close friend four years my junior who was as passionate about following God as I was.  We shared our faith with others and spent time reading the Bible.

Soon I was called to active duty in the navy.  I had dropped out of college and lost my deferment.  When I arrived on my ship I discovered that my chaplain was a Pentecostal.  Many of the chaplains were just as carnal as the rest of the crew and took the navy as a way to avoid serving in a congregation.  He introduced me to a charismatic church that was drawing kids from the beach culture to Christ.

During my time in the navy I continued to see God move in remarkable ways.  We fellowshipped with sailors from other ships in our NATO fleet.  I served as protestant lay leader on our ship since none of the officers wanted to do it.  That involved holding worship services onboard when out to sea.  At one point the chaplain from the carrier wanted to have me ousted because I wasn't ecumenical enough but the crew "revolted" and the captain asked him to return to the carrier and not come back.  We had Bible studies and guys came to know God.  Sometime I'll write about the discussions we had on the bridge when in port with the metaphysician.

We met Christians when we came to ports around the Mediterranean.  Someone gave me a book to study called Youth Aflame by Winky Pratney.  I studied it while at sea.  We worked in a Youth With A Mission coffeehouse in Copenhagen, Denmark and did some street evangelism on another cruise.  With met kids in Athens, Greece who introduced me to Francis Shaeffer that resulted in a trip to Switzerland later in the cruise.  We knew that we were on a trek that was led by the Holy Spirit at the expense of the navy.

I remember writing letters back home to friends about the things we were experiencing.  One of my friends said it was like getting letters from a modern day apostle Paul.

So what is God doing today that resembles the Jesus Freaks...those who were sold out to Jesus and following him?

Leader of the Band

Last night brought back a lot of memories.  We heard the Lancaster Symphony Orchestra.

Coming from KY where all the rednecks live (at least that's what the outside world thinks) I experienced some world class opportunities.  One of the things my school system did in Louisville was take us to the symphony.  It was a bus trip that got us out of class and that's the way we looked at it.

But my life was transformed the first time I heard live music played by an orchestra.  I had always loved music and enjoyed listening to our hi fi, turning up the bass and "feeling" the music.  But nothing compares to the opportunity to hear live music played.  I remember sitting on the edge of my seat in the balcony, eyes darting back and forth to the different sections of the orchestra that were called to play by the conductor.

The music would ebb and flow...first quietly, then with all the vigor the instruments could muster at the hands, arms and lips of their players.

Passion was on the faces of those who played.  They weren't just running a bow across some strings, they were talking with deep emotion using the instrument that had become a very part of them.  It was drama without words and stirred our emotions.

Last night I was reminded again of the pomp and circumstance of an orchestra.  The first chair in the violin section was a focal point of the orchestra.  In fact, first chair in any section carried with it respect and leadership.  Aside from the tails, it's fun to think about the duel of the first chair with others who are competing for their spot.  It's as intense as a football game can be only they were knocking instruments and not helmets.

Respect was conveyed and appreciation was humbly accepted.  The various instrumentalists were caught glancing back and forth at each other, obviously enjoying the making of music with each other.  The first chair was pointing out things and drawing their colleagues to more depth.

The featured guest soloist between focus times, stood there with great facial expressions feeling the music and with glances to each section calling them out to higher levels of accomplishment to give the audience an opportunity to share in the emotional exilaration with them.

Back to the first symphony I saw as a teen...the conductor!  I remember sitting there watching the whole thing unfold and saying to myself that I wanted to be a conductor.  I wanted to practice with the different sections of "instruments" in a organization until they had their part down and then blend them all together to play the "piece".  I wanted to help others reach their full potential and mix together with others to delight the "audience".  I wanted to conduct.

It's obvious that watching an orchestra play that they didn't sit down 15 minutes before the performance and pull that off.  It took hours of coaching and practice to bring them all together.  The same with any organization.  No one can make lasting changes overnight.  It takes a long time to change the culture of an organization whether it is religious or secular.

I still want to be a conductor in the lives of an organization.  Where is that stage for me, Father, to bring glory to you?

819 and Counting

As I wrote in a fb posting recently, I didn't learn how to read until I was out of college after 2 1/2 years and found myself in the navy.  I could read the words but I couldn't tell you the plot of what I had read if it was a story or the content of the information if it were a textbook.  I got through my 2 1/2 years of college playing bridge when everyone else took a break from studying for finals.

I can remember deciding that I was going to teach myself how to read for comprehension.  I determined that I would read a page in a book until I could grasp what was being said.  I determined not to put a book down that I had started to read until I was done with it.  I have since abandoned that discipline.  Some books just aren't worth reading once you get into them.

So for whatever reason I started to read and record the titles of the books I had read.  My first one on my list from October 30, 1970 was The Immoralist by Andre Gide.  Don't ask me where I got that one!

Since that time I have read over 819 books.  I realized the other day when I was typing them into an Excel spreadsheet that there are a few I forgot to write down and there are about a dozen that I have read more than once.

My first year in seminary I was assigned over 10,000 pages of reading.  Believe me, some of those books weren't worth reading.  I remember sitting in the library at Eastern Mennonite College reading a book on theology.  I had read page after page and they all seemed to be the same jumbled up mess.  I turned over 50 pages or so and read another page and it seemed just like the one I had finished before.  I don't know how someone can make something about God as boring as a theologian can make it.

My most notable books?  The first is The God Who Is There by Francis Schaeffer.  I'll talk about this in another blog sometime but I'll simply say now that my theology and belief in God was basically "My mommy told me so."  In the world I was in in 1970 that didn't go too far.

While in Athens Greece I found an English speaking church (another story for another time).  There I met some kids backpacking around Europe.  I told them of the things I was encountering in my faith and they directed me to a book.  In fact, one of them gave me the book by Shaeffer and told me to read it.  If I ever got to Switzerland, I was to drop it off (another story).

I remember sitting in the USO in Athens reading Schaeffer's book...and taking notes on it.  Something I had never done while in college.  It was transforming because it opened the door of philosophical thought and Christianity.  I'll tell you how that impacted my life in...another blog.

The second book came into my hands many years later entitled Wild At Heart by John Eldredge.  I had been asking God for some model of what a man of God was supposed to look like.  I was interested in the day-to-day face of someone who was walking with God, not some Christian celebrity who was hidden behind the donated wealth they had acquired.  I read and reread this book.  I've loaned that copy to someone and didn't get it back.

Currently, I've been reading a lot of the classics and appreciating them in a way I couldn't when I was in high school.  I've also enjoyed series by Jan Karon, books by John Grisham and many, many more.

I'm an old school guy.  I can't imagine not holding a book in my hand when I read it.  I hope they always commit some of them to paper.  In the meantime, I'll keep reading and expanding my knowledge about so many things.  Thank you God for the creativity of yours that you loaned to authors to be able to write for our enjoyment.

Thomas Edison

One of my earliest heros was the inventor, Thomas Edison.  I'm not sure where I first learned about him and his exploits.  I do remember that Mom and Dad took me to Menlo Park, NJ when we lived in NJ.  I was about 12 and we visited on a gloomy fall Saturday afternoon.  I remember the beauty of the campus where he did many experiments.  The big windows.  The work benches and the picture of Edison standing beside one of the workbenches.  He was often said to sleep in his labs while working on an experiment. 

I do know where he was solidified as one of my favorite persons.  That was in my sophomore year in high school.  My English teacher assigned all of the guys in the class to enter the Optimist Club Speech Contest.  We were to write a speech with assistance from the girls in the class, memorize it and deliver it several places.

I read books about Edison and discovered that he suffered from a hearing impairment that resulted from his father pulling him up on a train where he was a conductor...by his ears!  This didn't stop Edison.

He became a prolific inventor having his hands in electricity, the phonograph, the telephone, moving pictures and more.  The invention that rested with me the longest was the incandescent light bulb.  He worked on finding an element or alloy that could be the filament of the light bulb.  The trait that was displayed in this and other inventions of his was persistence.  He was said to have tried over 10,000 different options for the filament.  He was quoted as saying that he didn't fail 10,000 times.  He found 10,000 ways that didn't work.

Part of why I identify with Edison is I am persistent.  My mom used to call me hard-headed.  That perjorative statement caused me to lose heart and back off of my persistence.  I saw it as a flaw and not a gift.  I often ask questions and keep asking them until I get an answer I believe covers all the bases.  I look for the answer that answers all the questions and doesn't just arrive at a quick solution.  I want a long term solution to a problem so I can go on to the next and not have to return to something I've considered solved before.  I want to find solutions to problems that others have given up on as unsolveable.

Persistence.  Hard-headedness.  Bull-headedness (another perjorative term I heard often!).  I want to exercise those gifts to bless my world with something that has lasted as long as the incandescent light bulb.