Mundane to Marvelous

It was a cool morning but bright and sunny as I headed into the local neighborhood luncheonette for a cup of coffee. It was an old fashioned little New York kind of place, a counter on the right with leatherette-covered stools and a few small tables along the left wall. There was a short-order cook and a waitress behind the counter. I wasn’t going to have any trouble getting served this particular morning, there was only one other customer there, sitting at the counter, eating his breakfast and reading a newspaper.

I took a seat a few stools down from him and as the waitress came over, ordered a coffee. I sat waiting, thinking about the day facing me, getting ready to head off to spend the day ministering at a nursing home not far from there. It was a weekly thing that I did, and although I never really looked forward to it – at least in the natural, I knew that it was always a blessing once I got there and started to visit and minister to the residents.

The fellow sitting down from me was obviously surprised by some article that he was reading in that morning’s New York Daily News, because all of a sudden he exclaimed out loud, “I’ll be damned.”

I spun my stool around to face him and said, “You don’t have to be.”

He put his paper down and looked at me, very perplexed, and said, “What did you say?”

“You just said that you would be damned, and I said that you don’t have to be.” I continued on to explain to him that Jesus had died on a cross in our place, and because of that nobody has to be damned—we, and more importantly right now, he, could be saved!

Well, he didn’t seem to be very enthused about this conversation because he just gave me kind of a dirty look, got up dropped some money on the counter and quickly left. I didn’t really know what to think of that, I certainly hadn’t planned on saying anything, it just popped out, and now I felt a little strange having chased him from his breakfast. My thoughts were broken by the waitress, who I now noticed was standing right across the counter from me.

“Can you tell me more about this ‘getting saved’ and about Jesus?” she asked. I did, explaining to her how anybody can have a fresh start, be ‘born again’ and be washed clean from the stain of all of their sins just by accepting what Christ has done for them. She had been raised in a household, like so many others, where religion was just something you did, usually only a couple of times a year, out of habit and tradition. Nobody, so she said, had ever really told her about the Gospel and the fact that the Lord actually cared about her personally. Emotionally, she joined hands with me across the counter and prayed to accept Jesus as her Lord and her Savior.

As I left the little luncheonette, with the short-order cook and a ‘new’ waitress behind the counter, I was pretty well nourished and quite ready for my day at the nursing home!

My wife Alice and I were driving back to our home in Florida, having just completed a visit to the church that I had been pastor of in New Rochelle, New York. Brian Chiodo, one of the elders from the church there, a really dear brother in the Lord, was traveling with us. He was coming to spend a week with us and to visit the folks at the church I now served as pastor in Sanford, Florida. We stopped for the night at a motel in Rocky Point, North Carolina, and the following morning went to a Waffle House to get some breakfast before going back on the road and continuing south.

The three of us walked in and sat at a booth near the front window and placed our order. I got up and walked across the small restaurant to where the men’s room was. In addition to the booths in the Waffle House restaurants, there is also a counter with perhaps ten stools. As I passed the counter, I just happened to overhear two men sitting there in conversation—one was telling the other that this was his birthday.

On my way back to the table, as I passed these guys, I said, “Happy birthday” to the man whom I had overheard and kept on going back to the table. When I sat down, he looked over at me and asked, “How did you know that today is my birthday?” Now, of course, this is across the small restaurant which was pretty well full of people, and it seemed almost everybody looked up. I said to him, “That’s not what’s important. What is important is that you have to have another birthday, you have to be born again.”

He looked at me with a very strange, somewhat confused look on his face and said, “What are you talking about?” So I told him that Jesus Christ said that you have to be ‘born again’ and that this was a spiritual birth. He asked me something else, and I told him what the Scriptures said.

By now, the other people in the restaurant looked like they were at a tennis match, their heads swiveling back and forth to follow the conversation bouncing back and forth across the restaurant. I said to him, “God wants to give you a fresh start, wash everything clean and start brand new.” In all of my years of preaching and sharing the Gospel, I don’t believe that I had ever seen such a dramatic change in a person’s face. I would tell you about the look that came over his face, but it wasn’t like he just changed his expression, his face changed! A look of wonder came over him as he stared off into the distance — seeing something that the rest of us in that place could not.

By this time, Alice and Brian had eaten as much as they were going to; I had not eaten anything, but had lost my appetite for waffles. I had been feasting on something else—Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good. The three of us got up to leave and this man got up with us and walked into the parking lot. He went to his knees as he said to me, “I want this, I want Jesus!” With his friend looking on, as well as every other person in the restaurant, we all knelt there in the parking lot, joined hands and prayed. He asked the Lord into his heart, repented of his past and rejoiced in his future. We all celebrated his ‘new’ birthday and then went on our way.

Sometimes it’s sweet, sometimes it’s stinky – and sometimes it’s sweet and stinky!

I kept pretty busy while serving as the pastor of a church in the New York City suburbs. In addition to getting together with our music ministry on Monday nights to practice and fellowship, my wife Alice and I were at bible studies that I conducted on Tuesday and Friday nights, worship services on Sunday mornings, and communion and fellowship Sunday nights. That left a couple of nights for more personal fellowship, counseling and pre-prayering for those sermons and bible studies. And by the way, I had a full time job as the national sales manager for a communications company there in New York. So, as I said, I kept pretty busy.

My answer to staying ‘fresh’ and making sure that I had time with the Lord and time with Alice just to nourish our relationships was to take a four-day weekend about once every six weeks. Alice and I would get in the car and drive up into New England, just wander wherever the Lord led us and the three of us would enjoy each other’s company. Some weekends would find us well up into Vermont and New Hampshire, others out on Cape Cod, and other times just meandering along the Maine coast.

One memorable Sunday morning, we were in a small town in New Hampshire and were walking along through the fairly empty ‘downtown’ area on our way to find a place to have breakfast when we both saw an older man—very, very dirty and obviously a ‘street person’—who had set a course straight for us. Being a New York City kid, I am well trained to recognize the upcoming panhandle and knew what to expect. He raised his right hand, not in greeting or to shake, but in anticipation of a handout. All of the little shops and stores around us were closed, and with no place to duck into to avoid him (I repent), I braced myself to leave my little comfortable and relaxing ‘day off’ mindset and deal with the man and the situation.

As he asked me for ‘a couple of bucks,’ I looked him over and, without choice, had a good whiff of the odor emanating from him. It was neither a pretty sight, nor a pretty smell. It was more than a little evident that he had not had a bath in a long time and it probably had been just as long since he had a good meal. I looked at Alice, and Alice looked at me, and then of course I was sure that it was the Lord who piped up and suggested, “Gee, I have a good idea. Let’s all have breakfast together!”

I told the man that while I was not going to give him cash, Alice and I would take him and buy him a decent breakfast. To give you an idea of how unpleasant this guy looked, as we approached a little coffee shop nearby, we watched as somebody inside saw us coming and quickly hung a “closed” sign on the door! Alice and I looked at each other as if to say, “What have we gotten ourselves into here.”

Being a quick learner, I scouted ahead a little bit, found another place open for breakfast, and we snuck up on it—not giving them a chance to hang out the “Unwelcome” sign. As the three of us, or four of us if you count Him who is unseen, sat at a booth and ordered, Alice and I began to simply explain to him that regardless of where his life had been, in spite of where he was now, that Jesus loved him and “wanted” him. We told him that Jesus loved him, and had died for him—for his sins, just as He had for ours. We sat there for about 40 minutes, and as we finished the meal, I didn’t want to just walk away from this poor man now. I felt as though there was more responsibility than that, but I didn’t know what else I could do. The idea came to me to keep the ‘family’ ministering to him.

I went to a phone booth in the back of the restaurant, grabbed the yellow pages, dropped a coin into it and called a local church. I explained what was going on and said that I’d like to bring this fellow over so that they could follow through as the Lord led them. Well, I went through a number of coins before I got in touch with a church that was willing to have this homeless man come to them. I paid the check (and left a healthy tip; the waitress had earned it) and we left, heading for our car. As we were walking across the street, I said to the man that he had to invite Jesus into his heart—he would have to pray and receive Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

At those words, the man dropped to his knees like he had been shot. Pow! One minute we were walking, the next he was on his knees and the tears were pouring out of him like nothing I had ever seen. Alice and I looked at each other again, we were standing right in the middle of the main street, and he was kneeling on the centerline. We just kind of shrugged at each other, knelt down and joined him. Thank the Lord it was not busy, because we knelt there for a long while as he cried, repented, rejoiced and generally had a wonderful time. After a while, the three of us got up, got in the car and found the church I had called.

I walked him into the church and presented him to a couple of folks who had quickly come to the front to meet us. He was no cleaner on the outside, no less stinky, especially up close, but somehow he was shiny, new and clean. The homeless man had come home that morning.

Alice and I left and continued on our little journey, well nourished and refreshed from a good breakfast.

Alice and I were living in the little village of Stony Point in the Bear Mountain area, across the Hudson River from New York City and its northern suburbs. I was working part time doing (very) manual labor at a boat yard on the river and at the same time going to the seminary doing graduate work. Alice was working across the river in White Plains as a business representative at the telephone company.

Each morning I would drive Alice about ten miles south from where we were staying to where she would connect with a friend and coworker for a ride across the Tappan Zee Bridge in to work. Early one cold, gray morning in May, we drove to the coworker’s house and had a brief time of prayer together until her friend came out and Alice joined her. When I went to restart the car—nothing. That car just would not start. Alice and her friend gave me a sympathetic wave as they drove off. I tried the few things that I could think of to try and start the car with absolutely no success. That included praising the Lord at various levels of volume, all to no effect.

It should be noted, that though the car looked pretty good and we took good care of it, it had been well used even when we bought it, and judging by the odometer, had a long history. I believed then, as I do now, that God is a miracle working God and that as the apostle Paul says, “All things work together for good to those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose.” So I determined right away that I was going to trust God for a much-needed miracle, continue to praise Him and see what He had in store with this little “adventure.”

I laid my hands on the hood of that car and prayed a mighty prayer of faith. I got back in and with a confident smile on my face turned the key. Nothing! Not being a skilled mechanic I thought that perhaps I had prayed over the wrong place on the car, so I laid my hands on the dashboard and again prayed a very wonderful prayer. I was very impressed with the great prayer I prayed—it was a powerful confession of my trust in the Lord. Turn the key again, zilch, zero, nada, nothing.

OK, so by now, I was getting a little concerned. Our finances were not great and I didn’t need a big car repair bill to make things any worse. Nevertheless, as I went to a pay phone and called a local garage, I continued to praise the Lord and to tell Him that I expected to see something come out of this that would be good for me and bring glory to Him. I explained to the garage guy on the phone what was happening—nothing, and he said that he would send a truck out right away. As I waited for the truck to show up I continued to praise the Lord and to think of all of the Scriptures that I could that encouraged me to look for His mighty hand at work, for His purpose in all of this—for something that would bless me and make this mess all right!

The temperature, already way below normal for this time of year seemed to take a sharp drop to new lows as I waited, trying to stay warm. When at last the truck pulled up flakes of snow began to fall—in May!

I watched, prepared to see God do something amazing, as the guy from the garage poked around under the hood of the car. I know that my face must have shown my disappointment when he looked at me and said, “We gonna havta tow this sucka in.” Perhaps with a little less enthusiasm, but out of obedience and a conviction that the Lord had to have some purpose in all of this, I quietly continued to praise Him and to utter Romans 8:28 to myself, reminding myself to “combine spiritual thoughts with spiritual words” as Paul wrote to the Corinthian church. At the garage, I paced about, rubbing my hands against the unseasonably cold blasts of air until at last a mechanic came over to me, rubbing his hands—either to remove some of the grease, or in glee at the money they were about to take from me—and told me that the timing chain was shot and had to be replaced. It would be about a week before they could get the job done and more than enough money to cause pain, suffering, and …. Oh well, I would continue to praise the Lord, though now I was a bit confused having been so sure that God was going to do something wonderful in all of this, and now here I was, calling a cab to make my way home with my tail between my legs like a saddened little puppy.

While I waited for the cab, the snow flurry increased in intensity and my mind rattled about wondering what had happened. I had been sure that something really wonderful spiritually was going to happen. Now here I was, the deal done, and nothing! I got in the cab, engrossed in my thoughts as the driver headed up the street towards the entrance to the Palisades Parkway. The cabbie’s words penetrated my conversation with the Lord as he asked what I thought about the crazy weather. I said to him, half-heartedly because he was interfering with my questioning the Lord, “Well, I’m just going to praise the Lord.” Not sure if I was talking about the weather or life in general (and the car), but determined that regardless of how I felt, I was not going to stop praising God.

The cabbie hollered, “Praise the Lord. Did you say, praise the Lord?” He jerked the steering wheel to the right, went off the side of the road and jammed on the brakes. My head jerked around looking all over for the accident or whatever had caused this violent action. He spun about in his seat, and wild eyed, looked at me and said, “Do you know about Jesus, what about this Holy Spirit thing? I’ve been praying and praying, asking God if He was real to send me somebody to tell me about Him!”

Well, the Lord had set this up so that I would be that “somebody,” and tell this cab driver about the Lord I did! That cab ride went all the way to the Throne of Grace and back. The cab driver prayed that day to accept Jesus as the Lord and Savior of his life.

The Lord’s ways are still not our ways—but, oh I love them so.

Oh, and a little P.S. here. When Alice got to work that day she received a raise in her pay—the Lord took care of the need for the car repair bill too!

Chapter 5

The nursing home was laid out in the shape of a cross, a central common area with four wings branching out that housed all of the resident rooms. On the first of the two floors of the building that central section was made up of the dining room, a game room, and a large living room type area with chairs placed all about. A large television was set off to one side and there was a grand piano in the center that really dominated the room.

I had no particular schedule of people to visit when I went in there each week; I just tried to be led by the Spirit of the Lord to those who were most in need at the time. This particular morning when I went in, as I walked into the common area I noticed a fellow at the piano, obviously a professional tuner. He sat with his tools at the piano deeply engrossed as he worked on getting each note just right. I had this sensation, this sense in my mind that the Lord was telling me, “Go talk to him.” Well, that feeling wasn’t enough to move me in the direction of the piano so I went on and visited one of the residents for a little while. When I finished I walked into the center again, headed for one of the other wings of the building. I saw that the piano tuner was still hard at work, bent over the keyboard.

Again I had a ‘feeling’ that God was telling me to go and speak with this guy. Reminding the Lord that I was here to visit with the old people, I moved on to my next visit. (Yes, I know I can be really dumb—you don’t have to remind me!) I am not sure how long after this it was that I was once again passing through the common area, but there he was, still bent over the piano, not yet finished with his job.

No subtle feeling now, no ‘still small voice,’ no little sensation, but I want you to know that what happened next was thunder on the mountain. It’s hard for me to believe that I could be the only one who heard that booming voice—His voice—say to me this time as I looked at the piano guy, “Go talk with him!” I think I jumped! As my steps carried me towards the piano, I was saying, “OK, Lord. I got it now.”

Well, the Lord had told me to go talk with the piano tuner, but He hadn’t told me what to say, so I just walked up behind him and stood there. I was saying to the Lord, “OK, now what?” I am sure that you know how you can ‘feel’ somebody near you. Well, it was then that the man sensed my presence and turned to look up at me quizzically. I said to him, “God told me to come over here and talk to you….”

I didn’t get any further than that when he jumped to his feet, literally knocking over the piano bench, and grabbed me by the shoulders. I didn’t know if he was going to hit me, hug me, or try and tune me! I am sure that the shock showed on my face. He said to me, very excited, “I’ve been praying that God would send somebody to me to tell me about the Holy Spirit. Do you know about the Holy Spirit? God told you? God sent you?”

Whoa! I began to suspect that it truly had been the voice of the Lord telling me to go talk to this guy! 🙂

We talked for a few minutes and it turned out that he was, I believe, an elder in a Dutch Reform church up on the Hudson River. He had been involved in the church since childhood, been a part of the leadership in his congregation for years, but knew that something was missing in his spiritual life. He knew that there had to be more and that there had to be a deeper relationship with the Lord than he was experiencing. He had heard (here in the mid-1970s) about a moving of the Holy Spirit, of people experiencing the power of God and a relationship with God that was like in the early days of the church after the day of Pentecost. So he began to pray for the Lord to show him, he also began to pray for God to send somebody to him.

I have often wondered since that day if others had heard the Lord say, “Go talk with him” before and been too busy with their own plans to speak with this man. I have wondered that if I had not been obedient that last time, how much longer it would have been before this man’s prayer was answered. Oh, I know that the Lord would indeed have answered it, even if at last He would have had to send a talking donkey or an angel. But God not only wanted to bless the piano tuner—He wanted to bless me.

As we stood there at that piano (it was holy ground) he and I made plans for my wife Alice and I to drive out to his house, about an hour away, that same evening and visit with him and his wife.

As the four of us sat in his house that night, Alice and I shared things from the Word, things that we had been seeing the Lord do, and the wonderful, simple truth that, yes, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8) If things are different in the church today than they were 2,000 years ago—if we are not experiencing the fullness of the power and the glory of God in our lives—it’s because we have changed, not because He has changed.

As we joined them in their living room in their humble and sincere prayer that they just wanted to be closer to Him and have a deeper relationship with Him and be totally open to Him and His Spirit, I know that it was music to the Lord’s ears.

Right up until the minute she started screaming and hollering at me, I thought that she looked like a nice, sweet, little old lady.

Well she wasn’t really that old at all, particularly for that nursing home. She was probably in her mid sixties. The only reason that she was there was because she had fallen and broken her hip and her family placed her in this home to have good care while she recuperated. But, let me start at the beginning.

I went each week to this nursing home just to visit and spend time with the residents and to remind them that they had not been forgotten and that somebody still cared about them – Jesus! All too many of them were alone, having outlived a spouse or now, in their old age, too much trouble for their children to care for. I would just spend some time, often reading to them from the Scriptures or just spending some moments holding their hands and praying with them — it seemed to make a difference.

Each time that I went I would make it a point to visit with people who had just recently been admitted. These new residents were often upset by the transition in their lives, often afraid, and often very depressed. This one particular week I went and was told about a new resident, Elizabeth, and as I mentioned she had not been placed there to spend out her last days as so many others, but just to recuperate from an accident.

I knocked and entered her room with a big smile and introduced myself. But as soon as I said, “I’d like to visit with you and tell you about Jesus” a terrible scowl came across her face and she literally screamed at me. “Get out, get out. I don’t want to hear that name. You Christians killed my family. You hate us Jews. Don’t talk to me about Jesus! Don’t mention that name!”

It was no easy task to calm her down – I also had to calm me, her reaction had certainly caught me off guard. I was trying to think of what to do and what to say as she told me that many of her family members had perished in Hitler’s camps. As she wore herself out and the tirade slowly faded from what had been a very awkward situation, I had an idea.

“How about if I come in for a little bit each week, because I really would like to visit with you, and I’ll just read to you from your Scriptures and I won’t mention that name?”

She said, “Alright, as long as you don’t mention that name.”

The next week, I began what became our pattern. I spent about twenty minutes or a half an hour with her reading – from somewhere between Genesis and Malachi, often from the Psalms. She seemed to truly enjoy that time and to be comforted by the Word. I was careful not to mention that name. I would however talk to her about the Lilly of the Valley, the Rose of Sharon, about the one that King David called his Rock, his Shield, his Fortress, his Deliverer. I read to her about the Redeemer that Job knew and the child that God told Isaiah would be born and be called the Prince of Peace, God with Us. I told her that she could experience victory in her life as I read to her of the One whom Joshua met, “the Captain of the Host of the Lord.”

Then, one night, or very early morning, in the pre-dawn hours, the ringing of the phone awakened me. The caller told me that the workers in the nursing home had gone on strike at midnight and literally just walked out, leaving the residents on their own. Management had sent teams in to hastily move the residents to other nursing homes and institutions around the county. It was a nightmare for many of these older people. Someone would come in to their rooms, toss some of their belongings into a large trash bag, get them dressed and put them into some kind of vehicle for the trip. Most of the residents did not even know if their families knew of their plight, many were not even sure of what was happening, just that they were being rushed out in the dark of night. A real nightmare!

As quickly as I could I dressed and started out to locate these people and to help comfort them and to explain what was happening. They had been scattered to different places around the county. One of the places was a large state run home, and that was where Elizabeth, along with a number of others had been taken. I stepped off the elevator onto the third floor of that building at about nine o’clock that morning. As I looked down a very long hallway, I saw Elizabeth, now able to use a walker, accompanied by a nurse or aide.

As she looked up and saw me, a radiant smile came upon her face, and I could hear her clearly as she said to the woman with her, “That’s him. That’s my minister, he’s the one who told me about Jesus!” I can’t be sure looking back, but it’s possible that as I made my way down that hall my feet never even touched the floor after that. It seems that when she was flooded with anxiety about the commotion of the strike, she thought about the Scriptures we had been reading and she called out to her God, and guess who responded; Jesus – Yeshua – the promised Messiah of Israel.

When the strike was settled not long after, and the residents moved back to their own nursing home, the first thing that Elizabeth did was to get a framed picture of Jesus to put over her bed – and oh, how she loved that name, the Name above all Names!

As I came around the curve on that long, lonely road through the Yucatan I am not sure which I noticed first, the uniforms or the machine guns. Well, maybe I had better start at the beginning.

My wife Alice and I were living as missionaries in Central America — out in the bush in Central America, no running water or electricity Central America. A couple of friends, Randy and Ellen, a married couple who had been part of the church I had served as pastor in Florida before coming to Central America, had contacted us and were coming down to join us in the work we were doing.

They were going to come from Florida in their Isuzu Trooper bringing their belongings with them. That of course meant that after they made the long drive from central Florida all the way to Texas, there was the longer still drive down the entire eastern coast and across the Yucatan in Mexico before getting to Belize. That was surely a daunting undertaking for folks who had never been out of the United States and spoke no Spanish. I on the other hand had made that drive a number of times in both directions and had passable Spanish, so the decision was made; they would drive to Houston, Texas and Alice and I would fly back to the States to meet them there. Then, I would take the wheel and do the driving for the four day journey through Mexico followed by the trip across the border to Belize and the semi-long drive back to our camp out in the bush on the far side of the country.

The journey was fairly uneventful, the fellowship was wonderful, and as always, the opportunities to share the Gospel along the way were abundant. Uneventful that is, until, on the last leg of our travels in Mexico we were well into the Yucatan Peninsula between Villahermosa and Chetumal on the Caribbean coast. As I said at the start, this was a long and lonely stretch of road and although I had driven it often before it was totally unexpected when we came around a curve and suddenly found the road blocked by a group of Federal Police armed with machine guns.

As I stopped the car they walked around us and the officer in charge came up to my window to inquire in his native Spanish if we were carrying drugs or weapons. This we came to learn was not a unique practice in the late 1980’s, but we would also learn that virtually nobody ever says, “Yes” — regardless of what they’re transporting. Nor did I, at least to the drugs part. But then as to the weapons question, well, I wasn’t going to lie. I was carrying weapons, so I said, “¡Si! La palabra de Dios.” “Yes! The Word of God.”

Watching his shocked expression, and with his permission, I hopped out of the driver’s seat and went to the back of the vehicle and opened the double doors to where we had a few cases of bibles in Spanish. I took one out and handed it to him explaining that it was the weapon I always had and always used, ‘the sword of the Spirit’ as the Apostle Paul calls the Word in Ephesians chapter 6.

As Randy, Ellen and Alice gave one of the bibles to each of the men I began to tell them all about the power of the Spirit — and the power of the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, to change lives — to give new life. About 40 minutes later as we pulled away I looked in the rearview mirror to see a group of Federales standing in the road who had laid down their machine guns and were avidly reading a new, far more powerful weapon there along that long, lonely stretch of road.

Oh! An epilogue: The following day the four of us were wandering about in the marketplace in Chetumal, capital of the state of Quintana Roo, enjoying a break and gathering some supplies before crossing the border into Belize the next morning. A small group of Federales came running towards us, armed with ear to ear smiles and calling to us excitedly. They had followed that same road into town as we had, and now, by the grace of God, would follow the same road as us straight into ‘glory land!’

It was only about 15 miles away as the crow flies and we had 2½ hours to get there. You would probably think that it would not be a problem. You would be wrong!

We had arrived at our hotel at Heathrow Airport outside of London the afternoon before. Now, it was Sunday morning and I was scheduled to preach at a church ‘south of the river’ (Thames, that is) at 10:30. I had been told by the pastor the evening before that arrangements had been made for Alice and I to be picked up at 8:00a.m. and taken to the church. As anybody who knows me can tell you, I am a stickler about time. I would always prefer to be early rather than late, always preferring to wait rather to make others wait. So we were in the lobby ready to go just a bit after 7:30 waiting to be picked up by whoever had been sent from the church to get us.

At 8:30, I called the pastor, wanting to make sure that we had not gotten any signals crossed. He told me that the fellow was on his way. A repeat call about 45 minutes later obtained the same answer, “He’s on the way.” Knowing London well and the traffic congestion that is possible I was getting a little concerned about being on time.

Just after 9:30 a man came rushing into the lobby of the hotel, looking this way and that and I called over to him asking if he was looking for us. Indeed he was. We introduced ourselves and I asked where he had parked. He looked at me quizzically and said he had not come by car, but by the Tubes (subway system) I was a bit stunned and took a moment to call the pastor once again. I asked why he had sent somebody to escort us – as I know my way around London quite well and could have been to the church by now had I set off by public transportation at the time we were expecting a ride. He told me that it was just a courtesy!

In any event, I thought that we might get a cab because of the time pressure but was quickly informed that this was the day of the London Marathon and driving through the city now was impossible until the race finished in the early afternoon. The three of us went into the terminal at Heathrow and got on the Piccadilly underground line. This took us in to Earl’s Court where we changed lines to head south under the Thames and towards our destination.

By now it was 10:30 and it was rather obvious that I would not make my appointment to preach at the scheduled time. I grabbed Alice’s hand and the hand of our escort and called out to the Lord as we travelled along.

I told them both that I knew I was going to ask the impossible and the ridiculous, but twice in times of old God had stopped, even backed-up, time. Having precedence, I asked the Lord to get me to the church on time! Almost immediately we heard the screeching of the train’s brakes as we came to a rapid and unscheduled stop at a station well short of our destination. A train just ahead of us had broken down and we were going no further on this train this morning! We were able to exit the Underground and quickly board a bus. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one. After a couple of stops we disembarked and found the right one.

It was just about noon when we walked into the hall where the African congregation was singing loud and lovely praise songs, patiently awaiting my arrival. The pastor told me to go straight to the podium and ‘bring the Word’ and not to worry about the time. Taking my Bible to the podium, I stood gathering my thoughts, catching my breath, wondering a bit as to why all this had happened. Ready to speak, I glanced up looking at a big clock on the wall – a big clock that I was then told had just broken.

The little hand was on the 10 and the big hand was on the 6 boldly proclaiming that it was 10:30! The Lord God Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, had indeed responded to my cry. He had stopped time – just for me – just in that room – and just to put a smile on my face and give me my message for that day.

Nothing is impossible for God.

It’s amazing just how right everything can be when everything goes wrong!

Arriving in England for a stay that we anticipated would be about three months long, I went right to the phone store to get my ‘England’ mobile phone turned on and also to get a mobile broadband device. I would use that to connect my laptop to the Internet as we traveled around the United Kingdom. This had been our regular practice over the course of the last few trips and had gone smoothly each time. But this time, try as I might, I could not get the Internet to work properly on my computer.

Prepared for the joys of tech support over the phone, I prayerfully dialed the number I located on the company’s web site. The tech guy who answered my call after only a short wait seemed to be cheerful enough and ready to work with me. After quickly describing the problem to him, I asked where he was located to which he answered, “The Philippines.” I knew that he was aware that I was calling from England, but he could obviously hear in my speech that I was not English. He asked me, as so many do, if I was there on ‘holiday’ – the common word for vacation.

As usual, this gave me the opportunity to tell him that I was there to talk to people about Jesus and the love of the Father. Haltingly, after a significant pause, he told me that he had been saved quite a while back, a Bible-believing Christian, but had walked away, falling back into the ways of the world and the lifestyle that went with it. He told me that he knew that he had been wrong to do it, but now his sense of guilt had convinced him that God would no longer accept him. He was certain that now the Lord only desired to punish him.

I asked him if he was familiar with the parable that Jesus told of the Prodigal Son and he said that he was. I reminded him of how far down that son had fallen – how badly he had acted and how horrible the consequences had been. Yet, the father was watching and waiting for the return of his son, and how, upon his return, the father lovingly and excitedly called for a celebration.

I said to him, “Your Father has been watching and waiting for you to return. That’s His great desire, not to punish you – you’ve been doing that yourself. He has been waiting to put His arms around you and welcome you home.”

His voice cracked with tears of joy as he told me that he was coming home, that he longed to be back with the Father. I prayed with him and rejoiced with him and we parted looking forward to meeting at the family reunion that will take place beyond America, England and the Philippines.

I honestly do not remember what happened with my computer that particular day but we surely had made a connection!

Long, long ago the Lord God Almighty spoke through a donkey so it certainly should come as no surprise today that He can speak through a machine.

I had been invited to preach for a week at a small Pentecostal church in Ocala, Florida. It is a lovely little city with low, rolling hills and a lot of horse farms in the north-central part of the state. One particular evening near the end of the week I preached about not seeking the approval of men but the approval of God, a topic well covered by the Apostle Paul. It’s also a subject about which I tend to be very passionate having had the opportunity to be faced with that choice many times! I have found in my years traveling, serving the Lord teaching and preaching the bible, that bringing the sound doctrine of the Word will often cause gnashing of teeth among the hearers and give many great offense. But, as it says in Ecclesiastes, “There is nothing new under the sun.” The Gospel of John records in the sixth chapter how two thousand years ago, many of Jesus’ disciples left and stopped following Him because His words were too ‘hard’ {John 6:60,66} He chose (always) to seek the Father’s approval, and as Scriptures so well testifies, He always received it.

In any event, my message that evening was that we all have to decide just whom we are going to serve, to choose whom we want to please – regardless of what others may think! As it turned out, it was a very good service. The message was well and enthusiastically received. I love those little Pentecostal churches. It was also a fairly long service, and when it was all done, my wife Alice and I headed back to the small motel that we were staying at just a few miles from the church location. We had not had anything to eat before going to the church early that evening so we thought we would stop for a quick bite along the way.

Like everywhere in the United States and almost every country that we travel to, it was not long at all before we saw golden arches and quickly pulled into a McDonalds. It was not really busy at that time of night, maybe a half a dozen customers already there. I don’t remember what we ordered, but we used our debit card to pay for the meal just as we have done so many times before, in so many McDonalds on five continents. As I slid my debit card in the payment machine on the counter, I looked down at it and after a moment I told the young lady behind the counter that I wanted to speak to the manager.

She seemed quite nervous as she asked me what was wrong. I told her that nothing was wrong, that there was no problem, but I wanted to speak to the manager right away. After a quick trip to the back and she returned with a man who was obviously in charge of this store. He too asked me what was wrong, and I told him not a thing. BUT, I excitedly told him, God had just spoken to me through his credit card machine!

In every McDonalds that we have been in, the little card machine always says “Approved” on the screen as it processes the payment – but not this particular night. My entire sermon flashed through my mind in an instant as I had looked down and seen the words on this screen – a message I knew was straight from the throne. “You are approved”

Perhaps I had spoken a bit louder than I intended, because not only did I have his attention at that point, but also all of the employees and all of the customers who were now watching and listening to see what was going on. Not being one given to miss an opportunity, I then preached my second sermon that night about seeking and finding the approval of God. Interestingly, all of the folks in that McDonalds there in Ocala received God’s Word just as well and as enthusiastically as the people had in the little church earlier in the night.

I don’t remember what we ate, if indeed we even did, but I certainly remember the “church” we had there that night under the golden arches.

O taste and see that the Lord is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
(Psalms 34:8)

Sometimes, ‘church’ just happens in the strangest places.

Alice and I were aboard one of Royal Caribbean line’s large passenger cruise ships sailing in the western part of the Caribbean Sea. We had been blessed once again that the Lord had made a way for us to enjoy a weeklong cruise, something that we had done a number of times before over the years. And, as each time before, we had opportunity to minister to many of the ship’s crew, passengers, and people in the ports and places that we visited. That included doing bible studies on board.

One evening at sea as we were strolling through the ship we happened to walk through an area passing a large lounge, filled with passengers, as they drank and listened to and took part in an evening of Karaoke. Not being really familiar with Karaoke, we stood there for a while as we watched people go to the microphone and sing rock and roll oldies, country and western, and the old standard tunes along with the pre-recorded music. It appeared that if a singer displayed any talent they were rewarded with loud applause; if they were without any discernable talent and really bad, they might receive even louder, more enthusiastic cheering and applause.

All in all, the crowd seemed to be having a good time, the room a bit boisterous and people’s attention bouncing back and forth from their own conversations to the current singer – or attempted singer.

Alice seemed quite curious as I wandered up to where the Master of Ceremonies had a catalogue of the music available to sing with and began to browse through the pages. I signed up for us to sing and walked back to Alice.

Soon afterwards, the MC called our names and we walked up to the stage and took the microphones. The ambient noise in the room, what with conversations all over, the clinking of drink glasses and laughter was at a fairly high level as the music started to play and Alice and I began to sing.

Immediately, something strange started to happen. There was a noticeable reduction in the noise level as virtually all of the heads in the room turned towards us. The laughter waned, the clattering of drink glasses faded out. Then a man in a corner of the room began to sing along with us. Emboldened by that perhaps, another person joined in and then another on the other side of the room. Suddenly, it seemed that all of the people who had not gone quiet were raising their voices and singing along with Alice and I as the wonderful words of Amazing Grace filled the room.

When the song was over, stillness and quiet and a gentle peace had washed over that lounge. As Alice and I stepped down and away the MC slowly made his way to the stage, looked over the room and after a very pregnant pause, announced, “We want to thank the Royal Caribbean Choir for that moment.”

We left that bar and continued on our way truly blessed by the power of God’s amazing grace and the work of the Holy Spirit. You know, sometimes ‘church’ just happens in the strangest places.

Sometimes, ‘church’ just happens in the strangest places.

Alice and I were aboard one of Royal Caribbean line’s large passenger cruise ships sailing in the western part of the Caribbean Sea. We had been blessed once again that the Lord had made a way for us to enjoy a weeklong cruise, something that we had done a number of times before over the years. And, as each time before, we had opportunity to minister to many of the ship’s crew, passengers, and people in the ports and places that we visited. That included doing bible studies on board.

One evening at sea as we were strolling through the ship we happened to walk through an area passing a large lounge, filled with passengers, as they drank and listened to and took part in an evening of Karaoke. Not being really familiar with Karaoke, we stood there for a while as we watched people go to the microphone and sing rock and roll oldies, country and western, and the old standard tunes along with the pre-recorded music. It appeared that if a singer displayed any talent they were rewarded with loud applause; if they were without any discernable talent and really bad, they might receive even louder, more enthusiastic cheering and applause.

All in all, the crowd seemed to be having a good time, the room a bit boisterous and people’s attention bouncing back and forth from their own conversations to the current singer – or attempted singer.

Alice seemed quite curious as I wandered up to where the Master of Ceremonies had a catalogue of the music available to sing with and began to browse through the pages. I signed up for us to sing and walked back to Alice.

Soon afterwards, the MC called our names and we walked up to the stage and took the microphones. The ambient noise in the room, what with conversations all over, the clinking of drink glasses and laughter was at a fairly high level as the music started to play and Alice and I began to sing.

Immediately, something strange started to happen. There was a noticeable reduction in the noise level as virtually all of the heads in the room turned towards us. The laughter waned, the clattering of drink glasses faded out. Then a man in a corner of the room began to sing along with us. Emboldened by that perhaps, another person joined in and then another on the other side of the room. Suddenly, it seemed that all of the people who had not gone quiet were raising their voices and singing along with Alice and I as the wonderful words of Amazing Grace filled the room.

When the song was over, stillness and quiet and a gentle peace had washed over that lounge. As Alice and I stepped down and away the MC slowly made his way to the stage, looked over the room and after a very pregnant pause, announced, “We want to thank the Royal Caribbean Choir for that moment.”

We left that bar and continued on our way truly blessed by the power of God’s amazing grace and the work of the Holy Spirit. You know, sometimes ‘church’ just happens in the strangest places.

In one of his plays the Irish playwright Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774) penned the phrase, “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” I on the other hand do invite you to question me – BUT: Don’t ask unless you really want to hear the truth!

Early on in my walk with the Lord, I had read in 2 Corinthians 2:14 that we are to bring the knowledge of Christ Jesus into every place. It dawned on me that I actually had constant opportunity to do just that.

Every day people will ask me, out of custom and convention, rather than actual concern, “How are you?” And, rather than reply with one of the standard responses we all tend to use, like “good,” “OK” or “fine.” I would answer by saying, “I am redeemed” or “I’m safe” or, “Eternal, thanks to the death of Jesus Christ on a little hill in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago!” Being a New Yorker (in the natural) I might often be greeted by, “What’s up?” To which I determined the only appropriate answer is, “The Lord. He is high and lifted up, and His train fills the temple!” Another common greeting, “What’s happening?” surely deserves the truth in these perilous last days: “Wars and rumors of wars, and famines in diverse places.”

Typically, after a surprised pause, people would then ask something like, “What in the world do you mean? Time after time I would get to share the gospel.

In equally casual, and normally mundane, conversations as I am served in a fast food restaurant or a convenience store or checking out at the grocery store, at the end of a transaction I will ask whoever is serving me, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Almost without exception people will say something like, “Sure, go ahead.” I will then say, “If I were to tell you that Jesus loves you, would I be the first person today who told you that?” And so often the response would be amazing. You would see a peculiar look come over people’s faces; often a look of wonder. Almost without exception, Christian or otherwise, nobody would have told them that day – nobody cared enough about them in the hustle and bustle of the day to offer a word of encouragement and hope. And they would say, “No, no one has told me that. Thank you so much!” or they might answer, and we would be saddened to hear, “No, no one has ever told me that.”

Some time ago, my wife Alice and I were visiting and ministering in upstate New York. We were staying with dear friends of ours, Bob and Pam Rozzoni. They own a small company that like most has become very dependent on computers in its operation. While we were there Bob was in need of some computer equipment and since I had quite a bit more experience with such things, he asked if I would go along to help select the most suitable components to meet his needs.

He and I drove over to the next town where there was a large Best Buy store. We parked and walked in the door and were immediately met by a ‘greeter’ – a staff member who helped by directing customers to the right part of the store depending on what they were looking for. With a smile, he said to us, “Can I answer any questions for you?” To which I instantly replied, “Yes, you can. Why is it when there is an almighty God whose only desire is to bless people, who says that He waits on high to have compassion – a God to whom nothing is impossible – why is it that so many people either reject Him or just totally ignore Him?”

The smile on his face turned to a look somewhere between blank and stunned, followed by a very weighty pause. After what seemed a long time, he looked at me and meekly said, “I … I meant about like computers.” After telling him that he should consider my question in his own life – it was far more important than computers, we continued in, Bob made his purchases and we went on our way.

A few years later while preaching on a Sunday to our little congregation in Florida about not being ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ and sharing that gospel in the course of our daily lives, I told of this incident above. The very next morning Alice and I went to our mail box service and there was a letter from England waiting for us. The letter started with the statement, “You might not remember me…” and proceeded to remind us of an encounter about two years earlier. We had been grocery shopping in a city just outside Manchester, England where I was preaching and teaching at the time, and as we were checking out I asked the clerk if she knew of the love of Jesus Christ.

Being a Hindu originally from India she really did not – so we told her. A friend who was with us, Tim, told her that, looking at me, she was looking at a miracle. He then spoke to her very briefly of my accident in Central America when a speeding semi-truck hit me. He told her that I had been on foot and how I had survived while the two fellows in the truck were killed on the spot.

Well, her letter went on to say that when we told her of God’s love and that little testimony, she said that she had believed everything we told her about Jesus. Now she needed a miracle in her life and was asking that we pray for her. We did – and indeed the Lord responded ‘according to her belief’ and she received that miracle as she recounted to us in her next letter.

The moral of this story is, don’t be ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ and bringing the knowledge of His presence into every place. The righteous are as bold as a lion

It is great to be led by the Holy Spirit – even when you don’t have a clue what’s going on!

I had finished two weeks of preaching and teaching at a couple of different conferences in the capital city of Yaoundé, Cameroon, West Africa, and now was headed further south. I had worked with Arnold de Paix, a dear brother there in Cameroon, for the first time the year before as he set up places for me to minister throughout the country. Once again, he had asked me to come from the States to spend a month or so with him and so far it had been a real blessing. I had spoken at the two large conferences and taught groups of pastors there in the capital. Then he and I had started the somewhat arduous multi-bus journey south headed for the border with Gabon.

It seemed that the farther south we got the more frequent were the stops by police or soldiers checking our papers. It often seemed that as I was summoned to be questioned by the police and present my papers – passport, visa, inoculation forms – that they were expecting a bit more from me. Some money to ease the way, perhaps. Since they were expecting, I gave! Like Peter at the Temple with the lame beggar, I gave what I had, the Word of God and the love of God. While they did not always — not even usually — seem overly excited about that, I knew that I had freely given them the most precious thing that I had.

After an overnight stop in the southern city of Ambam to minister to a very large assembly of young people in their late teens and early twenties, we finally arrived at the border crossing between the two countries. Although our visas had been carefully prepared at the Gabon embassy before we started out, the border guards on the Cameroon side of the Aïna River crossing seemed reluctant to allow us passage. Determining that no ‘monetary favors’ were headed their way, they became more aggressive towards Arnold saying that his papers were not in order. It also became clear that, knowing that we were headed to preach the Gospel, the fact that they belonged to a religion that was not favorable towards an evangelical — or especially a Pentecostal — biblical message was a major factor in this situation.

When all was said and done, we turned away having only preached the wonderful good news to two soldiers who were now responsible for the Word they had heard.

Arnold spent some time on the phone and made arrangements for me to preach in a church in Kumba, northeast of Mount Cameroon two days later on Sunday. If the trip down south had been interesting, this was even more so! We made our way to Douala. Located on the Gulf of Guinea it is the country’s largest city, the primary center of commerce and the major port. Because of all that you might think the roads would be good — think again! The rainy season was upon us and it showed up really well in the roads, or the lack of roads I probably should say. We got a bus out of Douala and headed north along roads that were slick like ice. The little bus slid and swerved along the way, really exciting on some of the turns – particularly those with nothing along the edges except edges.

I understand that four or five years after this ride the road had been greatly improved, with major funding from the European Union. However, at the time that we traveled along the muddy curves the best that can be said is that this was a wonderful inspiration for prayer. Arriving in Kumba late in the evening Arnold and I made our way to a little hotel and settled in for the night.

We awoke to a rainy, muddy day! But it was the day that the Lord had made, so we went rejoicing to find the church that I was to speak in. In the heavy rain that was falling we came to a building where we heard songs of praise bursting forth from the upstairs windows. Arnold announced that we had arrived at our destination and when we climbed the stairs to where the congregation was assembled and Arnold told the pastor that I was ready to preach, that brother was very excited at our arrival. He ushered me right in to where the brothers and sisters were singing and I was sent straight to the pulpit to bring the message. Well, I cannot remember now what the Lord had given me that morning, but I surely remember that the congregation was blessed, the pastor was blessed, Arnold was blessed, and not least of all, I was blessed. It was good!

When the services were all done and most of the folks had left we got to spend some time with the pastor. He was going on and on excitedly about the miracle that the Lord had done. He told us that he had been praying diligently for the last couple of days about the sermon he would preach this morning and had drawn a complete blank. It was though, he said, that God would not give him anything, saying that He would deal with it in His time. Then I walked through the door with Arnold announcing that here I was ready to preach.

It all seemed a bit confusing until it dawned on us that this was not the place where Arnold had made the arrangements. We were in the wrong church! Yes, the Holy Spirit had led us to exactly the right church. We trust that the other pastor, waiting for us in the rain, was given a wonderful message by the same Holy Spirit.

To the exact right church at exactly the right time led by the right spirit — the Holy Spirit!

Chapter 16

It was a typically warm, lovely sunny day as Alice and I walked down the street in Montego Bay, Jamaica up on the north side of the island. And we were in a warm, lovely sunny frame of mind having only just before been so blessed by the Lord.

We did not have a lot of money and we are not really shoppers, but we love spending time in the marketplaces. We had just visited the little outdoor stalls of the people selling such a wide variety of different items in the Crafts Market. Many items were hand-made by those vendors. Our habit was to tell them that since we were not there with money to spend – “silver and gold have I none” – it was still our desire to bless them. We would ask if there was anything that we might be able to pray about for them. The response, as often as not, after a bit of amazement, was an outpouring of the things that were going on in their lives – often extremely personal things. We would take time and pray for them knowing that the love and compassion of the Lord was waiting on high to be poured out on them.

We left the marketplace that day with the knowledge that we had been blessed to see God touch a number of lives. Now as we walked along the street we were passing a club, a bar, across the road from us. It had a very large veranda, filled with people and an ‘MC’ walking through the assembled crowd with a hand held microphone getting them to sing along with the small band that was playing. I knew that we were in for it when he glanced over in our direction and locked eyes with me! He ran down the small steps and across the street and came right up to us. He waved to the band and they momentarily quieted as he said to me for all to hear, “Come on Mon, give us a tune” sticking the mike in my face. I looked intently at him and thought (prayed) for a moment and started to sing ‘This is the Day That The Lord Has Made’ with Alice joining right in.

We now surely had the attention of the partygoers over at the club, and the band actually picked up the tune. The MC just gave us a big smile and started to gesture to the people gathered across the street like a bandleader. I don’t know that many of them knew the tune, but the drinking and talking had come to a rather abrupt halt. Alice and I finished the chorus, said thank you to the MC and continued our stroll down the street. We had not gone more than 50 steps when a Jamaican man coming towards us stopped and gave us a greeting.

Sensing something (otherwise known as the leading of the Holy Spirit) I began to tell him of the love of God, how the Father had sent Jesus to die upon the cross for him. I told him how the Father was waiting to change his life – give him a new life. He looked as though he needed that, being somewhat ‘raggedy’ and dirty on the outside as well as, admittedly, on the inside. While I shared, tears welled up in his eyes and he said how much he wanted that new life and he prayed with us to receive Jesus into his life as both his Lord and Savior. After we had prayed he began to tell us of how somebody else years before had also shared the Gospel with him, seemingly without effect. He pulled out a battered old wallet and from that pulled out an even more battered old Gospel tract that the man had given him long ago. He had carried it about all these years!

Oh, the wonderful truth of what the apostle Paul wrote in ages past; one plants, another waters, but it is God who causes the growth. (1 Corinthians 3:6-7)

Jesus said, “…there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (Luke 15:10)

It was warm and sunny, a beautiful day that the Lord had made and now the sound of rejoicing in heaven drowned out the band playing and the people singing in the club, at least in our ears.

It seemed that it would surely be an impossible task, but the Lord said to do it, so….

We were in the rainy season, an eight-month long rainy season, and our little camp out in the bush where we lived was muddy – no, I mean muddy! On the edge of a little village there in Belize, our camp consisted of a small trailer that we had pulled the length of Mexico and beyond into Belize, a “fat-boy” tank to store rain water, my home-made sewage treatment plant (a couple of 55 gallon oil drums buried some way from the trailer) and a patio that I had made from stones gathered in the nearby river. There was no electricity or running water, and we were some distance away from the dirt road that ran through the village and then led to the “highway” about a half-mile further on. It qualified as a highway because it was paved – one the very few in the country connecting the cities back then in the late 1980’s. It was two lanes wide with no lines, no lights, nothing on the sides but mud at this time of year.

We had been here since we came to the country in 1989, but after I had been hit by a speeding semi-truck on that one good highway, been to the States for surgery, and then returned, I had some difficulty out in the bush. I would walk with a cane in one hand, the ubiquitous machete in the other and none left to carry my bible. I was also dragging vegetation along behind me because I could not lift my damaged leg high enough to avoid it – not an easy task or a pretty sight! American friends of ours who lived in a somewhat more developed village had invited us to move our trailer to their large piece of property where it would be a bit easier for us and yet still have an effective base for our ministry. We prayerfully decided that it would be a good move and talked about doing it as soon as things began to dry out a bit making it a more practical.

One morning as I was walking through the jungle praying, a habit that I had developed finding it a lovely way to start my days, the Lord spoke to me clearly and said, “Move – today!” That was a bit shocking. It was not all that common for me to hear what was almost an audible, not just an “in-my-heart” statement from God.

Returning to our camp I told Alice that we were going to move out that day taking the trailer to Fred and Sally Kukow’s ‘Little Eden’ over in Burrell Boom. Alice’s immediate response was, “Well let’s wait a few days and see if it dries up at all.” I told her that we were going today if I had to get all of the men in the village to help pull us out of there.

I had to get all of the men in the village to help get us out of there! It was a challenging task. To say “difficult” would be a massive understatement, and nobody seemed to understand why I was in such a rush to get out right away, that rainy day. At the end, we had to leave a number of our things behind, telling everybody that we would be back the following day to gather everything up. By late in the afternoon, we started the trip down the Western Road and then across to our new location where we were warmly greeted by our new hosts.

The following day when we made our way back to the village, we were surprised to see all of the activity. There were a large number of police, constables from Belize City and from Hattieville, the larger village located on the way to Belize City and it seemed that most of the village residents were gathered about. After being directed to the officer in charge we were informed that the previous evening two men had escaped from the Belize jail, killing a guard in the process, and had headed straight off to our camp!

That is our ‘old camp’ where we were no longer in residence! We were never informed why they headed for our camp, but I don’t believe that it was to pray with us – far more likely to prey upon us.

As in the days of the prophet Elisha {2 Kings 6} when the Lord sent warnings of the plans of the enemy, and as He warned Joseph in a dream to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt {Matthew 2:13-14} so still today does He watch over us and direct us with His word.

And in case you didn’t get it, “Today” means – “TODAY!”

With all of the complaints from priests and rabbis, the phone call really did not actually come as a great surprise.

I had been broadcasting for quite a few months on that secular radio station in the New York City suburbs. I was doing a live, half-hour program every Saturday at noon, going to the station studios with my wife Alice and our dear sister-in-the-Lord, Pam. They came with me so that they could pray, speaking to the Lord, as I spoke over the airways to the people throughout the Metropolitan area. I never had a prepared agenda or program material, but even then I had learned to be pre-prayered and to just speak whatever the Lord would give me once our theme song ended and the director pointed through the glass at me.

I frequently spoke of the lack of vitality, the lack of life, in so many of the very “religious” mainline churches and synagogues in the area. I boldly cited the lack of applied biblical truth that was the root cause for that condition. The station had received a number of complaints from local clergy. They seemed to think that I was attacking them rather than encouraging them – wrongly, I might add. So on this particular Monday morning when I received a phone call from the Vice-President of the radio station telling me that, starting with the next program, they were going to have to put a disclaimer at the start and end of the broadcast – as I said, it was not a shock.

She explained that while she had never heard the broadcast herself she had been made aware that I had stirred up something of a hornet’s nest – not something that they were accustomed to in those upper middle class, very main-line church, communities that served as home to so many New York City business people. She went on to tell me that they would take a small portion of my time at both ends of the program to place their prerecorded announcement stating that they were not responsible for the content and that they took no position as to what I was saying. I told her that I understood and that I was fine with that.

The following Saturday at the appointed time I was positioned behind the microphone praying, seeking the Lord as to what I would say and waiting for the cue to speak. Alice and Pam were across the desk praying for me – I am sure for the same thing. The new disclaimer played stating, as I had been told it would, that the station took no position on the following message. The theme music started and I knew that I only had seconds before I had better have a message.

The finger fell, the mike light went on, and I immediately began to speak about how Pontius Pilate had washed his hands before the multitudes declaring that he was innocent because he took no position as he told the people to decide about Jesus for themselves. I went on to talk about the fact that everybody has to, at some point in their lives, make a decision for themselves to either join the multitude in crying out “crucify Him!” or to cry out to Jesus, “Lord, save me a sinner!” There is no fence to sit on, there is no ‘grey area’ and there is no way to avoid the issue. Jesus said, “You are either for Me or against Me.” {Matthew 12:30}

The program ended, the disclaimer played again and Alice, Pam and I went to Walter’s Hot Dog stand in Mamaroneck (highly recommended) for a quick bite.

Early the following Monday morning I received a phone call. It was the Vice President of the radio station once again. She told me that she had listened to the broadcast that Saturday to see what all of the fuss was about. She had listened and she had heard – and she had decided. She said to me, her voice cracking with emotion, that she had indeed truly decided – the disclaimer had played for the first and the last time, no more to be heard. She chose Jesus!

As we hung up, I was rejoicing with the angels, and this time, I actually was surprised, gratefully and pleasantly, by the morning’s phone call.

It was coming up on the beginning of December 2005 and we were getting ready to head from our rented home in sunny, warm Florida to the frozen climes of the Northeast US and were not sure where we would wind up when we returned.

Before we left the Orlando area to spend a month ministering in upstate New York Alice and I had to deal with the issue of the upcoming lease renewal on the apartment that we were living in. It was coming due for renewal and I was obligated to let the owners know what our intentions were about staying or leaving before we left on this trip. I was certain that the Lord had told me not to renew the lease, and that meant that we would not have a place to stay shortly after our return. The Lord had told me what not to do – but He had not told me what to do!

After telling the management that we would not be renewing our lease we left and had a long, but nice, drive, traveling the 1,300 miles up to New York. We hit the cold weather even before we got through Georgia and then entered the Carolinas. As we drove across to the western side of Virginia and then north up Interstate 81 and along the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountain range we began to see snow on the ground. From there, the further north we got, the whiter the scenery became – and the colder it got. By the time we arrived in Dryden, New York it was cold with a capital “F” for frigid! A blanket of snow covered everything. The area was experiencing a colder than normal December, and normal is cold. While we were there, as was my practice on all of our previous visits, I would join a small group of men who met early on Wednesday mornings for a time of prayer together.

This one Wednesday morning the group was smaller than usual as the 6:00 am temperatures had dipped to near minus 15 degrees Fahrenheit (-26 C) and only three of us of us had braved the cold and showed up. Still, our time of fellowship was warming and the prayer had some fire. One of the other two fellows asked me if there was anything in particular that I would like prayer for, so I explained our situation with the apartment and the fact that the Lord had told me what to do – giving up the apartment – without then telling what I was to do for a place to live when we returned. The other fellow at the table gave me a somewhat strange and surprised look and proceeded to tell me that he had just purchased three condominiums in Orlando as a rental investment. He had been going to pray for the Lord to direct him to somebody trustworthy that he could have who would lease the units and collect the monthly rent and keep an eye out for the wellbeing of his investment so far away. Our brother then told me that he would rent us one of the apartments at a discounted rate if I could fulfill that task for him – a real blessing for him, and surely one for Alice and I.

When our time was done there in the snow covered rolling hills of central New York, we returned to Orlando very, very blessed. We were going to a new home, one that had considerably more space than the one the Lord told me to leave by the way. Considering that we used a home office in the operation of our ministry and we had been a bit cramped in our old apartment that was a real treat. And this would be at a cost less than we had been paying previously. Our dear brother who owned the condos was blessed because he now had ‘family’ who would care for his investment, ‘family’ that he knew and trusted as good stewards. As usual, all that I needed to do was to trust Him.

The Lord had not told me what to do because He had already done it.

It was a very deep, very threatening, very American voice that said to me, “Get your hands off of me!” What made it very shocking was that it came from a very little, very thin African woman who did not know a single word of English.

Alice and I and two of our brothers from our ministry back in Florida, Mark and Joe, were in a large village on the Gulf of Guinea in Cameroon, West Africa. It was a village well known for its widespread practice of witchcraft. I had been preaching at a church there for a couple of days when at the end of the evening service I started to pray over people as they came up to me. Mark and Joe, along with one of the local brothers, was joining with me, standing behind whoever I was praying over and also putting their hands on them and praying along.

I had certainly noticed the troubled look on this little lady’s face as she approached and I was informed by the African brother that she spoke no English, so I was hardly prepared for that harsh voice that erupted from her. I was, however, pre-prayered. I had been fasting for some time at the prompting of the Holy Spirit since we arrived in Cameroon, and I was about to find out why!

I did not remove my hands at the instruction of what I immediately recognized as a demonic command – nor did Mark, Joe or the other brother – that made it all the more shocking when her feet left the ground and she rose about a foot and a half straight into the air! We all pressed back down, and she came right off the ground again. Three large men and myself and we could not hold her on the ground!

I spoke and said, “Tell me your name you demon.” The only response as I remember now was an unintelligible growl. All sense of time disappeared while my three brothers continued praying as they fought to hold her from rising into the air and I continued to, now hollering, and with a righteous anger commanding this demon to leave her and free her in the name of Jesus Christ. I have no idea of how long it was, but all of a sudden it was as though the air went out of a balloon. She melted towards the ground and a calm came over the five of us. There was the palpable peace and presence of the Lord.

Using the brother to translate, I prayed with her as she asked Jesus to be her Lord and Savior, and we prayed for the Holy Spirit to fill her heart, her spirit and her life, a life now vacated by the dark force that had been there previously. There was just a wonderful sense of victory as Jesus had indeed set this captive free.

The following evening two women approached me before the services began and it took me a moment to realize that one was this little lady from the evening before. She smiled at me as her friend translated and told me how her life had changed since we had prayed and Jesus had touched her. The night after that, again just before our evening services, a woman walked up who I did not recognize and it took me a while to realize that once again it was the one the Lord had delivered.

So much had she changed in those two days, the look of anguish on her face replaced with one of radiant joy, that the words of the apostle Paul filled my mind and spirit as I taught that night:

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.
(2 Corinthians 5:17)

It is indeed a living Word!

The loud crash and the sound of breaking glass brought our bible study to a rather abrupt halt.

A group of us got together in my apartment every Friday night where I taught a weekly bible study. This particular evening proved to be a bit different from the usual. I jumped up from the table at the sound of the breaking glass and when I looked down the hallway to the front door I saw the window had been shattered and there was broken glass and reddish liquid everywhere. The liquid proved to be from a wine jug that a young guy had just tossed through the window. And that young guy was still standing there looking at me through the now broken window.

I stepped outside and looked him over. He was probably about nineteen or twenty years old, 6 feet tall, and had surely partaken of some of the wine before he decided to launch it through our window. I said to him, “What are you doing?” When he didn’t answer I took a step towards him, he took a step back. I took another step forward and he took another step back and again I said, “What are you doing?” He turned and started to briskly walk away and when I started to briskly walk after him he began to run. The chase was on!

I found myself racing after him, both of us running at a good clip. The thing was, even though he had four or five inches over me, a longer stride and the benefit of being about half my age, he wasn’t getting any farther away from me; but I wasn’t getting any closer to him. It wasn’t long before I began to think “This really isn’t working, and what am I going to do with him if I catch him?”

So I decided to stop. As soon as I did a van pulled up along side of me. The fellow driving said to me, “I saw you chasing that guy, what’s going on?” After briefly explaining what had happened he said to me, “Well hop in, let’s go find him!”

As I got into his van I began to hear police sirens seemingly from every direction. When it dawned on me that they were coming towards us the thought crossed my mind maybe this guy was on the FBI’s ten most wanted list! It was only a minute or two before I spotted the young man headed off between some buildings. I got out of the van to go after him on foot and the driver said, “I’ll go around the other way.” and drove off.

A couple of police cars pulled up near me and one of the policemen got out and came up to me. As we walked towards where the guy had gone I told him the account of our interrupted bible study. He told me they knew who this guy was and said he was a real troublemaker. It was about then that we spotted the fellow standing with a small group of other guys, and the cop drew his revolver. As he cocked the hammer and took aim at the kid, I pushed down on his arm and said to him, “What are you doing?” His only response to me was a really dirty look. I thought to myself that this was a pretty drastic response to a broken window!

It was then that the guy spotted us and again took off running. By then other policemen had joined us. I started to walk back to the street as I thought that this was getting a little strange – a bit of an overreaction to what had taken place. It was just then that the culprit was captured, placed in handcuffs and quickly driven off in one of the squad cars.

The policeman I had first encountered came to me and drove me back to the apartment to view the ‘crime scene’ and to take a statement from me. I was telling him about the mess, the broken glass and the wine all over as we approached the door. I was a bit shocked to see that everything looked quite fine! My wife Alice had already cleaned up all of the glass and wine. Other than the fact that there was no glass in the window there was no evidence of the incident. He and I went back to his patrol car and he began to fill out his report.

He asked me for my full name, the address of the apartment, the time of the incident, and quite a few other questions. When he asked me who I worked for I immediately said, “Jesus Christ.” He then apologized and said he was sorry but he had to ask all these questions. My confusion only lasted a millisecond as I realized what he had thought. I said to him, “I wasn’t cursing, I was just answering the question!” The next few moments in that car were really anointed as I told him that I was a preacher, called to serve the Lord and that He was my boss, my only boss. I went on to explain that because of that I had to get to the young guy and tell him about Jesus, regardless of what the law would choose to do. Oh, and while I was at it, I shared the gospel with the police officer because he too needed to know that you don’t have to be locked behind steel bars to be a captive – and Jesus came to set the captives free.

I wound up that evening at the police station talking with the young man I now knew as Jimmy, explaining to him how, regardless of the legal consequences of his act that night, he could change his very troubled life and have a new one in Christ Jesus. He would have to choose to stop running and to surrender to the Lord – then he could have a fresh start, a new life.

I never saw him again, but I surely hope that I will in a place where there are no bars of steel but there are streets of gold.

I love to hear from the Lord – but sometimes it is not very pleasant!

We were in Orlando, Florida, living in a very nice apartment that also contained our offices for the BibleTalk ministries. We were renting from a really dear brother who lived about 1,300 miles away from us, further north. (see Chapter 19: It Was A Cold Day To Be Homeless) And for certain, we were living by faith. Outside of a small monthly Social Security check, we had no regular source of income at all, yet we were able to travel extensively around the world. When the Lord called us to go on one of our frequent missionary journeys so I could preach and teach, He never failed to provide the means.

When the rent came due each month the Lord always managed to provide the needed funds. I might be called to preach somewhere and an offering, always unsolicited, would be forthcoming, or He would place it upon somebody to send a donation to the ministry, again, always unsolicited, and we would have the rent money for that month. We had been living that way for so long, dependent on His provision that it seemed to be second nature to us. That being said, it was 2010 and the economy was in dire shape, particularly the housing market, not only in the United States but throughout much of the world. The brother we rented from owned a fairly substantial home remodeling business that was very definitely a part of that housing market. His company was taking a direct hit and it was greatly affecting him and his family.

I loved and appreciated this man deeply. I had a real concern for his well being, and I was troubled knowing that the company that he and a partner had built from the ground up was going through such troubled times. That concern began to weigh on me and as it was coming to the end of the month when the rent was once again due. I started to pray – to pray repeatedly and diligently, “Lord, what will happen to that brother if I can’t pay the rent?” Over and over that cry issued from the depths of me, I was so burdened for his well being.

I really was not concerned about the situation that Alice and I were in. I had faith – coupled with experience – that regardless of what happened with the rent the Lord would take care of us. As I was praying, talking to the Lord, again and again asking what would happen to this brother if I couldn’t send our rent.”

All of a sudden my voice was interrupted by that of another – a still, small voice that gently said to me “Why are you planning on Me to fail?”

I felt like my heart had been pierced and pain shot through my spirit. It was though the words of the apostle Paul were on a screen before me:

“And my God will supply all of your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:19)

Tears welled up in my eyes as the depth of my sin became clear to me. The Lord God Almighty never fails, but I certainly had. I thought that I was standing in, praying in faith but I had not trusted in His love for our brother up north and for me. I had been professing my fear – my lack of faith – and my anxiety had come disguised as love! That apartment was not a luxury, a “want” in the lives of Alice and I, it was a need. Whatever was going on in our brother’s life and business God was more than able, and of course willing, to deal with.

It happened that at that time I was doing a weekly two-hour live Internet ‘TV’ show with a dear friend serving as a pastor of a church in central Florida – and this was the day of the broadcast. I went that day and as the program started I recounted the incident of that morning, how I had been – as I had clearly been told – planning on the Lord to fail. Before my friend and all who were watching that day, I repented publicly of my lack of faith, my failure to trust in God’s word and love. I wanted to remind everybody watching that, indeed, the Lord never fails!

At the end of the broadcast we said our goodbyes and got in the car to drive off. As I began to head out of the parking lot of that church building, my cell phone rang. It was a woman calling from Washington State – about as far away from us as one could be and still be in the United States. She said that had noticed that I owned an Internet domain name that I was not currently using and asked if I might be interested in selling it to her. It was one that I had owned for years and never used. I told her that I might be and asked if she would like to make me an offer on it.

When she “happened” to offer the exact amount that we needed for the rent that month my mouth was saying yes to her and my spirit was shouting “Thank you Lord for Your faithfulness. You never fail!”

It was already expensive enough, so when they told us that the prices were going up and it was going to cost even more, we did what I am sure any good accountant would probably (not) recommend – we called upon the Lord!

I was the pastor of a small congregation in the suburbs of New York City and we had decided to balance all of the bad news reported in the newspapers with some good news. So for some time we had been placing a good-sized display ad in the New York Daily News on a fairly regular basis. The ad would have a large headline that I made up and then the body consisted only of Scripture. While the ad carried the name of the church and a post office box for mail, and that in small print, our purpose was not to promote our church but only the life giving Word of God to the very, very large reader base of that newspaper back then in the late 1970’s and in 1980.

A typical ad would be like one we placed that boldly proclaimed, “Free Light” followed by scriptures about Jesus being the light that came into the world. (John 1:9-12) Interestingly, when the ad ran in the paper there was a news article regarding an impending strike by the workers of the electric utility serving New York City. Our ad ran right on top of that article! Whether that was the work of a Daily News employee who saw the connection and decided on the placement or purely a ‘coincidence’ (defined as the hand of God at work) we never knew.

As I mentioned at the start, this was not an inexpensive plan since we had chosen to place the ad “full run” in the paper. That meant that while we had the option to place the ad only in the editions that were distributed to individual boroughs and suburbs of the City or to add their national distribution, we were paying for it to appear in every paper delivered everywhere it went. So when our advertising sales representative contacted me one day to let me know that there was about to be a significant increase in the rates they were charging I was concerned to say the least. I just felt that this work, which was having noticeable impact, was under attack. Our old enemy, who comes to steal, must surely have been troubled by the effect of God’s word that was reaching literally over a million people every time it ran.

I got a few of the folks together from the church and we immediately prayed and asked that the Lord would “rebuke the devourer” (Malachi 3:11) and protect our work from this inflation.

Not long after our next ad ran, I again received a call from our News representative and he apologetically informed me that our ad had not appeared in one of the local runs of the paper that week – a loss of perhaps 3% of potential readers. He told me that they were not going to charge us at all that week to cover their error. Our next ad ran not long after, and once again I received a call letting me know that they had missed a small portion of our run. He said that the paper would again waive our payment due to their mistake.

The third time this happened I got a call from the manager of that sales department asking if he could visit with me.

When we met in my offices I was not quite sure what to expect. The manager apologized profusely saying that he could not understand it. They had never had a problem like that, so consistently, with one client before. After offering us a small rate decrease for our inconvenience he and his salesman left us, good friends all around. It was the last time this error occurred.

With the ads we were not charged for and the new rate we were now paying, our gospel outreach in the paper that year was less expensive than before the increase. The Lord had indeed ‘inflation proofed’ His work!

Chapter 24

We were seeking the Lord, needing to hear from Him – we just didn’t think it would be through a chicken!

In our years of traveling in ministry we have been in many places in many parts of the world and we had been to France a few times. Now, back at our base in Orlando, Florida for a while, I had been feeling as though we should return and go back to Paris for some meetings. We have been blessed to not have the financial resources to pick and choose to go on our own. The Lord always had to not only direct us, but to provide the funds to accomplish the travel.

I had told Alice that I was feeling this urge to go to France, but was unsure at this point if it was truly the Spirit leading or not. I am well aware that the word says not to lean on our own understanding, so I told Alice that we had to seek the Lord and we had to hear from Him before I could or would do anything.

Shortly after that conversation, the next Saturday as a matter of fact, we went to a local shopping mall to visit their food court for lunch. Before we ordered from one of the many restaurants that lined the court we had a short time of prayer – and again asked the Lord to show us, to make it clear, if He wanted us to go to France. I headed off to one place for a sandwich while Alice went over to one of her favorite places, Chik-Fil-A. It was her habit when she went there to order the children’s meal. It was a lighter portion and it always came with a child’s toy, a toy that she would give to one of the children in that food court – putting a smile on both of their faces.

I returned to the table just as Alice walked over and sat down. We prayed again, asking the Lord’s blessing on the food that we were about to eat and Alice took the toy out of her bag of food to get to the meal. It could have been a bit shocking, but it wasn’t, when we discovered that her child’s toy was a CD-ROM, an adult lesson in conversational French!

It was a joy, it was a blessing, it was a message from on high, and yes, it was a bit of a surprise – but not as surprising as one might think. We have become accustomed to dealing with the fact that His ways are still not our ways. And having opened the mouth of a donkey one time {Numbers 22:28} to speak to Balaam, He certainly could speak to us through a chicken (place). We began to plan what we would do upon arriving in Europe and how we would contact some of the folks there that we had been ministering to, now that we had our marching orders. Oh, one little point though. We still had no funds for this trip so we began right then to thank and praise the Lord for His provision, for the means to get to France. Unlike the Pharaoh of Egypt who gave the Hebrews a task and then refused to provide the straw that they needed to accomplish it, our God never calls us to do something without equipping us to do it.

That Monday we went by our post office box to check our mail and, lo and behold, somebody had sent our ministry a check, an offering for our work. The person who sent the offering had not known anything of our praying about this trip nor our need for money to travel – but he knew the Lord, and the Lord let this person in on our need.

Oh, an epilogue. Alice sent off a letter to the founder and Chairman of Chik-Fil-A, Mr. Truett Cathy, to let him know how the Lord had used his restaurant and that unusual “child’s meal” to speak to us and direct our footsteps. His letter of reply informed us of how that blessed him and he sent us a signed copy of one of his books – and his blessings. What can I say other than?

Oui, Jésus est le Seigneur
(Yes, Jesus is Lord)