JUBILEE CHRISTIAN CENTRE NEWS

Three important events coming up: July 14, 15, 16 our friends from Nicaragua, the Quinto family will be in Elgin. We'll have evening services in Spanish those days involving friends from several Hispanic churches in the Elgin area. Pastor Quinto will be preaching, his sons will be helping with music for those services. It will be a great time!!

Also, July 15 we're having a one-day Kids Bible Club (an abbreviated Vacation Bible School) beginning at 9 a.m. Certification of completion will be awarded on Sunday morning when the children's choir from the Bible Club will be singing. Classes for children from 3 to 13.

Then. . . August 11, 12, 13 we'll be having a Heritage weekend...a celebration of 25 years with the church in Elgin. If you, or anyone you know is a former member of the church here, please email me with your current address and/or email address. We'll be sending out information as soon as I get back to Elgin. We're looking forward to a great reunion weekend.

PHYLIS

Right now, I'm at my sister's in St. Louis, visiting family. We went south to see my Dad today. Interesting how that works. Being in places where one used to live brings up long forgotten (or supressed) emotions and memories. Isn't it great that God is not limited by time? He can reach down and heal old wounds as easily as he can new ones.

Thankfully, I'm reminded once again that God has brought me from a very long way. I'm grateful for his Love and care. When I get back home I may write more about returning to old paths with new vision.

For now, my sister and I are celebrating her birthday, renewing ties with relatives and building memories with her girls and grandsons. Since she's a Cardinals fan, we bought her tickets to the game tomorrow...look for us on the third base line! (I have no clue who's who or what's what. I do know the rules of the game...just not the players!!) So I shall enjoy the sun, laugh at the antics of my greatnephews, eat a hotdog or two and thank God for family and hope I don't get hit in the head with a baseball!!

PJDH

Some things are hard to describe, like the rainbow pictured above that the girls and I saw the other day. "Look Grandma. There's a rainbow. It's God's promise to us!" The picture doesn't do it justice. Light infused the sky with intense color and reflected those unusual hues to everything in sight, not just the rainbow. That light, those colors are not captured by my lens, not properly reproduced on this page.

Service this morning had a quality like that. (oops, my granddaughter arrived...finish later...back to the keyboard. She's taking a nap.)

This morning, worship time was good, not spectacular, just good. Meaningful worship. For those of us there Tuesday night (or readers of my blog), we were a bit disappointed that our new believers were not there. Pastor Bob then called for prayer for some special needs: a former member critical with Parkinson Disease in Paducah, Kentucky and then for Tom, who had recommitted his life to Christ. Prior to this prayer, I related to the congregation what had happened during Tuesday's service. Wesley was to lead in prayer.

Wes stepped to the pulpit, gave a quick word of encouragement to intercessors and began to pray. His voice choked with tears, he managed to say, "Oh, God." and a Holy hush came over the congregation. In that space of time, Tom and some friends stepped into the Narthex. I saw what was happening because I was on the platform with the singers and have this habit of praying with my eyes wide open.

As Tom was seated in the back, where no one else even noticed, the Spirit of God began to move. A few moments into this Holy atmosphere, Laura began interceeding aloud; Wes remained praying, but wordlessly. Afterward Pastor Bob gave a call for those who needed healing.

But as Tom stepped through the door, my mind's eye could see a phalanx of angels accompaning him. Ministering angels who had been with him this week, and now spread out and began ministering to the congregation.

Okay. Tell me it's my imagination. But I was just reading from Cure for the Common Life by Max Lucado. He relates the following story:

"Consider a wacky example of this truth. I jogged through my neighborhood the other day under a cloud. Not a cloud of rain, but a cloud of self-doubt. The challenges of life seemed to outnumber the resources, and I questioned my ability. And, quite frankly, I questioned God's wisdom. Are you sure I'm the right man for this job? was the theme of my prayer.

"Apparently God really wanted to give me an answer, because I heard one. From on high. From a deep, booming voice. "You're doing a good job!" I stopped dead in my Reeboks and looked up. Seeing nothing in the clouds, I shifted my attention to the roof of a house. There he waved at me--a painter dressed in white and leaning against a dormer. I waved back. And I wondered and almost asked "How did you know I needed to hear that?"

"Did I have a brush with an angel? Did I see an angel with a brush? Was the worker sunstruck? This much I know. A painter spots a middle-aged guy with a bald spot puffing through the streets and thinks, The guy could use a good word. So he gives it. "You're doing a good job!"

Am I stretching theology a bit when I suggest that God put the man there, at least in part, for me? Long before time had time, God saw each moment in time, including that one. He saw a minister in need of a word. He saw a fellow with a skill for painting and a heart for encouragement. He put one on the street and the other on the roof so the second could encourage the first. Multiply that tiny event by billions, and behold the way God sustains his world." (Max Lucado, Cure for the Common Life, p33-34, W Publishing Group, 2005) "God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies" -Philippians 4:9 MSG

This morning we were in harmony. Like the runner that day. Like the girls spotting the rainbow. Moments when divinity meets humanity, heaven intervenes in earthly matters, God communes with man. Those moments are difficult to describe and harder to comprehend. But at those moments we know, just know, that we have experienced a Holy hush, a precious moment of harmony with God Almighty.

Tuesdays are Terrific! It's amazing the way God works. He pulls elements and people from here and there, puts us all together in one place and, zap, we can only say, "That was a God thing." I suspect he does it more often, but frequently we're too dense to recognize his hand in things. Last Tuesday was too obvious to miss! It had to be God!

In the early 1970's (ancient history again), Bob and I were assisting George Taylor here at the church we pastor now. Bob was Associate Pastor and Spanish Pastor, I was Youth Director. At the apartment complex where we lived and Bob worked, we became acquainted with a couple of young teenage boys, brothers. They would help Bob around the apartments and at times one or both would watch our two young sons for a hour or two to free me for ministry or errands. We began bringing them to Youth Service and then to Church services with us. Soon both were baptized and Holy Spirit filled. At one point, we offered to take them into our home to live with us, due to some circumstances at the time. It did not become necessary, but they remained close to us until we left for a mission in Ecuador, South America.

In the intervening years, both young men went astray, but never forgot the touch of God on their lives. Since we've returned to Elgin, we've seen one of the brothers several times. He's come to services now and then. The other we saw only once, at a funeral and had little time to talk.

This summer, a new neighbor moved in next door to the church. Over the last few weeks, we discovered that one of the brothers is frequently at their house. We've talked a few times, talked about the way God works, invited him and the neighbor to church. Then Monday, Bob wanted to talk to the other brother, the one we had not seen, to invite him to Tuesdays are Terrific. Bob said he felt it ordained of God that Tom come to service Tuesday. We hadn't seen Tommy for several years. He called his brother and asked how to contact Tommy. The reply was, "talk to your neighbor. He usually knows where Tommy is at."

Determined to make contact, Bob headed next door and asked, "Do you know how I can reach Tommy?"

The neighbor directed his comments to a man seated with his back to Bob, "Hey, Tom, Pastor Bob wants to talk to you."

And Tommy turned around, gave Bob a huge bear hug and began to cry. He then proceeded to tell the above story to the astonished neighbor.

Tommy came to church on Tuesday (two days ago) when Michael Cole, Jr. from Dixon, IL came to speak. Pastor Mike has a prophetic ministry. He knew nothing of this story when he came. Pastor Mike spoke from Psalm 23 "He restoreth my soul." Tommy and his friend sat toward the back of the sanctuary until the call came for "restoration" and Tom came forward. With no carnal knowledge of the man or his situation, Pastor Mike talked to him and prayed with him about "these people who have loved you for years," "God doesn't care where you've been or what you've done, he welcomes you back." and more specific pieces of Tom's history. Possibly some that apply much more than I know.

For a restored Christian of two days, Tom's doing well. He says people at work are looking at him differently. He hasn't lost his temper; he hasn't "cussed out" anyone; he hasn't been drinking. He's reading the Bible Bob gave him and listening to the Larnellle Harris CD's Bob gave him. His smile says he's a new man.

It was such a God thing. There's much of the story I don't even know. I know Tom's been in some really bad places in these intervening years, but there is no place so bad or so dark that God's light cannot penetrate.

What happens now is largely human choice, a matter of man's choosing to follow God, choosing to grow, choosing to pray. It's a matter of Prayer Warriors choosing to intercede, of Christians choosing to reach out, to befriend. But God has moved heaven and earth to bring together those elements for a fresh touch, for a true restoration. Look around and see the wonders that God is working in your life. To penetrate the darkness, you need only THE LIGHT!

I'm thankful!! Tuesdays are Terrific!!

It's all a matter of perspective. I was reading a book recently by Shaunti Feldhahn -- one of her novels, The Lights of Tenth Street, I think it was. (I highly recommend her books -- For Women Only, For Men Only and both novels). The omniscient viewpoint of the book reminded me that God sees things so differently from his perspective. I'm in the middle of the action, sometimes confused, sometimes can't see the forest for the trees. But God views things from the vista of eternity and knows the why, knows how things will connect, knows the ending as well as the beginning.

These aerial photo of Mexico City emphasize that difference. From the air one sees the entire area; on the ground perpective is limited by the surrounding environmental details.

I'm writing this as I'm preparing to go for my final checkup after the liver donation. Exactly four months since Victor's death, almost six months after the surgery, I'm going for the doctors to give the final analysis that everything has grown back normally and functioning properly.

God, let me yield to your direction, your guidance remembering that you have the omniscient perspective. Let me not be distracted by the here and now, the details, the pain, the messiness of life. With the psalmist, I sing, "I will lift my eyes to the hills from whence cometh my help. My help comes from the Lord."

(This is Bob at a restaurant on the beach. The internet cafe was actually a building!)

I´m sitting in a little internet cafe a couple of blocks from the beach. This slower pace has been great for me. I love sitting on the terrace at the hotel watching the waves roll in. Something about the ocean calms me and, at the same time, lifts my spirits. The consistency of the waves, yet with a uniqueness of the rhythm, reminds me of God´s power. Sometimes the waves come in quickly, close together, making little ripples on the sand as they dissipate and return seaward. At other times, there is a time of silence, then a larger wave comes roaring in, breaking into white foam on the rocks and sand below. But no matter the time between the waves, another will come. It is as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow morning. It just isn´t alway timed the same.

God´s timing in our lives is like that. Sometimes waves of blessing seem to roll in, leaving a peaceful sense of God´s presence. At other times, there seems to be a interminable space of time between those power surges. But I can rest assured that it will come. As sure as the next wave, God´s power will roll in. As I watch children collecting shells or clams on the beach, they will sometimes be so engrossed in their task, they lose track of the waves. One comes unexpected, lifts them a few feet and deposits them on the sand again. The children don´t mind. They laugh; they´re accustomed to the ocean and it´s rhythms.

My prayer today is: God, give me the grace to relax and enjoy the moment, the things you are currently doing in my life. While I want the next surge, the next big wave, help me to concentrate on the task at hand, to do those things you have set in front of me. Even as I wait for the inevitable surge of power that I feel coming! Steadfastness. Keep me steadfast in You.

PJDH

The year ended well. This group of students were easy to be with, thoughtful (for the most part), well-behaved (as much as can be expected from 13-14 year olds) and a lot of fun -- as can be expected from 13-14 year olds! At the Cougar's game, they actually joined the Ozzie parade. At Navy Pier they listened (mostly) to the the historical and architectural information. On our walk through historical Elgin, they snapped pictures, took notes and wrote a personal version of the history of Elgin. Congratulations to the Ellis Class of 2006! You're a great group of kids!

There's something terribly sad about an empty classroom. Or, is it just that I'm reluctant to let go of one year, one more batch of students headed for high school and the big adventures of life? I like getting prepared for the new set of students in the fall, but I do have trouble ending the year. It usually takes me several days to clean up the classroom, stash all the books, clear all the bulletin boards, dump all the inevitable papers left behind, evidence that learning took place here. I finished the classroom on Wednesday. The cleaning crew was right down the hall. Three classroom North, all the desks were in the hallway, the tables stacked high and various files sitting around gathering hallway dust as the crews prepared to strip and wax floors. By now probably my precious memorabilia from this year is set in piles decorating the hallway with all the rest. I won't know. I won't go see it again until August.

So it's off for a few days of R & R. Grab some warm sun. Read a book or two. Recharge my batteries to start anew. One more rotation on this merry-go-round called life.

Enough with the ancient history!! Tuesdays are Terrific starts today. 7 PM it begins with a praise and worship time, then a devotional from a guest speaker. I'm excited. For the summer small groups are on sabbatical and Tuesdays will be our midweek get-together. I love worship. It will be great to have the extra time together. Each Tuesday night is something different...oops I don't have the church webpage updated yet. Gotta get on it.

Maybe I can grab a picture or two tonight.

1960 Pontiac

(A well-preserved model, not the original mentioned in the story)

THE CALL

(Part 3)

God used camp to demonstrate his miraculous power. We were returning from camp in cars: one driven by the Pastor, one by the youth leader, and one by a responsible high school senior. I rode in this last car -- a 1960 Pontiac, and a gas guzzler if ever there was one. At 9 PM we became separated from the others in traffic leaving camp and didn't have a map because we expected to follow the Pastor's car home.

Traveling to our home town from camp required a three-hour journey with many twists and turns, all on unmarked secondary roads through the hills of northern Missouri. At midnight, I realized we were nowhere close to home. In fact, we were nowhere that I recognized at all. Quietly, from the back seat, I asked the driver if he knew where we were, hoping not to wake the three other girls in the car.

"No," he replied. "I keep thinking I'll find a station or a store that's open, but so far, nothing. Do you recognize anything?"

"I think we may be driving in circles. I'm pretty sure I've seen that house before," I replied, nodding toward a farmhouse set back off the road.

About then a couple of other girls awakened, "Are we lost?"

"What will we do," one girl began to cry.

Buddy and I tried to reassure them. Eventually, the car was calm again.

This was the 1960's and we were teenagers. There would have been no warm welcome if we had awakened some hill farmer who probably had no phone anyway, and most assuredly had a loaded shotgun in working order. We kept driving hoping eventually to arrive at some spot we recognized: a town with a name, or a police station, a lake, a state park, anything that would give a point of reference.

About 2 AM, I noticed another problem brewing. Buddy's gas gauge was sitting firmly on "E". Over the next three hours, I watched the needle as it lay solidly past the empty indicator moving not at all. Silently I prayed, "Oh, God. Get us home safely before we run out of gas."

Soon a warm glow of light on the Eastern horizon served as a compass to guide us home. With the dawning light on our left, we were able to head South. A couple of hours later, the old Pontiac topped the hill above our hometown. Never was the panorama of that little town so beautiful to my eyes.

With a well-lit gas station in sight, I asked Buddy, "How accurate is your gas gauge?"

"Right on," he replied. "When it says empty, it stops running."

"Did you know the needle has been on "E" for the last three hours?" I asked.

"Sure did," he answered, "Were you praying as hard as I was?"

"Fervently," I responded. "But I didn't want to scare the other girls so I kept quiet, hoping they wouldn't notice."

"We must have had an angel pushing us along," he responded. "This car won't move an inch once the needle hits "E"."

With that miracle God clearly showed me he has my well-being in mind. What dangers lurked in those dark hills and deserted roads that night, I'll never know. I have learned that I can't always discern God's motives. Whether he simply wanted to demonstrate His miraculous power, wanted to spare us from some situation, or had another motive entirely is irrelevant. I learned that God is able. He is powerful. His miracles are not reserved for those with fancy robes, fabulous oratorical abilities, learned titles, or world-wide ministries. He sometimes chooses to demonstrate his power to the weak and helpless, even a lost carload of teenagers.

Bertha Lee (Blunt) Dunlap preaching at Morgan Corner Church, Butler County, Missouri

Circa, 1955

THE CALL

(Part 2)

For the next several years, my spiritual journey continued. I began teaching pre-schoolers in Sunday School when I was eleven. I occasionally played piano for service -- under the tutelage of my Mother. I viewed these acts of service as important steps toward spiritual maturity. In those days, action counted for everything. Not much attention was given to more intrinsic aspects of spiritual life.

Then one December night my life changed forever. We awoke at 2 AM with the house afire. As flames closed in, all four of us escaped the building by jumping from a small second story window to subzero temperatures outside. We were barefooted clothed only in pajamas. My little sister spent months recovering from her burns and subsequent skin grafts. My Dad broke his heel from landing on the solidly frozen ground. I suffered burns and an appendicitis attack a week later. But my Mom died two weeks later from third-degree burns over 75% of her body.

With my Mother gone, my spiritual journey kicked into high gear through sheer necessity. The realization that God listened to me personally occurred that summer following my Mother's death.

We spent the summer at my Grandmother's house in town. The church there sent kids to Youth Camp for a one-week intensive spiritual enrichment program. I desired t oattend with the desperate thirst of a desert traveler for water. However due to the losses from the fire, we didn't have th emoney for the week's tuition. Several people volunteered to pay for me, but my Dad wasn't "accepting no charity."

As departure date approached, I became fully convinced that I would be able to attend. My Dad noted my cheery positive attitude and warned me repeatedly, "I'm not changing my mind about accepting charity."

With a confidence born from my mother's and grandmother's faith, I responded, "That's okay. God has called me. He'll provide."

My Dad, an unbeliever, would shake his head and mutter something unintelligible to me.

The bus to camp was to leave Sunday after morning service. Friday night I went to bed depressed, afraid that my Dad could really prevent my going. In my mind the only hope was for him to change his mind. But by Friday night, my faith was weak since my Dad's resolve remained staunch, unbendable.

Lying in bed, I was crying softly when suddenly a sense of peace spread through me. I can't say I heard an audible voice, but the voice in my head was clear, "I will provide." My faith response was immediate. I relaxed and fell happily to sleep.

Early next morning, I packed my suitcase. At breakfast my Dad reminded me yet again, "If you think I'm changing my mind about accepting charity, you have another think coming."

"I just know that God told me he'd provide," I replied confidently.

He just shook his head.

Just then the mail arrived.

A few minutes later my Dad walked into the kitchen with a dumbfounded look on his face, an envelope in one hand and a small piece of paper in the other. "Well," he said slowly. "You must have the faith of your mother. Here's a check for your tuition."

I didn't look up from washing dishes.

"This is from the County Watershed Committee," he continued. "They've paid me this month's stipend even though I didn't make the meeting. Get Linda Lou to take you to cash this." he handed me the check. "It's all yours."

The money covered tuition and an extra $5 (unheard of riches to me) for spending money. Somehow this confirmed God's care for me. I became totally convinced of His reliability, even his understanding of human resistance. I was amazed that God would use a method of provision which would be acceptable to my Dad: it was a legitimate "paycheck," not a donation.

That week at camp was an epiphany for me. For the next several years, an annual visit to camp provided a spiritual oasis that I desperately needed in those dark times following my mother's death. I would return from camp with faith and energy to face the rigors of the next twelve months. Thus the watershed stipend became a spiritual watershed for my life.

Circa, 1906. Grandma Maude is the young lady standing on the steps.

THE CALL

(Part 1)

For as long as I can remember, I understood the concept of being called of God. I knew my mother was called to preach. I understood my maternal Grandfather had been called to travel and start churches. My maternal Grandmother (pictured above) received the Holy Spirit at Azusa Street in 1906 and subsequently received a call to evangelize.

The first personal calling I remember was the urge to be baptized. It was June, and we had an evangelist at our little country church. On Sunday afternoon we were going to the river after morning service for baptisms. I wanted to be baptized too.

My Mom pulled me aside one afternoon. "Phylis, I want to be sure you're doing this for the right reasons, not just because some of the older girls are being baptized."

I stumbled over the concept of sin and repentance, but I knew about The Call. "Mom, I just feel this pull toward serving God. I know I want to follow Jesus always. I know I want to minister, and this is the next step."

She took the time to explain repentance and remission of sins. Most of it I didn't get for several years, but my mother gave her consent for my baptism. I still remember the feeling that day.

There was a cool breeze blowing, riffling through those 50's hairdos as we gathered on the banks of Beaver Dam Creek singing familiar hymns. Old oak trees provided ample shade and protection from the midday sun as one by one we stepped into the briskly flowing water. Little clouds of silt drifted over my feet as I waded into waist deep water. Pensively waiting my turn to be lowered into the water, my heart pounded because I knew I didn't understand exactly what was happening. I just knew that within me my spirit was responding to a Higher Call. As I came back up out of the water, my spirit soared with a lightness and joy that I little understood. No dove appeared; no voice from heaven spoke as at the baptism of Jesus. But for me the sun shined brighter. The water flowed more purely, and the breeze refreshed my body as His spirit refreshed my soul. And His Call was heard in my eleven-year-old heart.

METAMORPHOSIS

Pablo Picasso's paintings often depict turmoil, a scrambling, an implosion of self. I've never been a Picasso fan, but recently I've seen some of his paintings with new eyes.

Sometimes I wonder how God can ever use me. What will he be able to do with me? Yet, he continually takes me, failures distresses and all, and molds a vessel useful for his Kingdom.

All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him, and he became their leader.... - 1 Samuel 22:2

This was the group that gathered around David, the group that later God called "mighty men of valor" (see 1 Chron. 11:10).

Merriam-Webster says that metamorphosis is a change of physical form, structure, or substance especially by supernatural means.

I'm in need of a metamorphosis.

I thought of Jonah today. Jonah and the conversation he had with God after Jonah had finally put himself out on a limb and preached the message of destruction that God had given him, and then God changed His mind and spared Ninevah.

Putting oneself on the line is always a risky business. So often, we. . . I have one idea about what results to expect, and God has another idea in mind. He accomplishes HIS purposes when I'm left in the dark wondering who turned the lights out.

(The official PJDH version of Jonah's confrontation with God. )

Jonah complains, "Hey God. Didn't I tell you this would happen? You know how you are. You can't follow through on anything. You're way too soft-hearted. You could have just let me run away to Tarshish or better yet, why not leave me alone in the first place? Huh? Why don't you go away and just let me die?

And God said, "Don't sweat the small stuff."

So Jonah went out on the hillside, tried to make some shade and waited with only a little glee to see if any of his dire predictions would come true.

Then suddenly a vine grew up and provided great shady cover from the hot sun. And for the first time since God had given him his marching orders, Jonah got a good night's sleep. No gaseous stuff from the whale's belly; no ship tossing in the storm; and no racing through Ninevah yelling like he'd done for the last three days. Nice shade. A good view.

Suddenly Jonah is awakened by a burning sensation. "Hey God! What gives? This vine is shriveled; look a perfectly good vine is going to waste because of that nasty little worm. The sun is so hot I'm about to have an asthma attack; I'm gonna faint. I think I'll just die here!

And God says, "What do you have to be mad about?"

"Plenty!" spouts Jonah.

"You didn't grow the vine that you're so concerned about. You didn't even water it. There are more than a hundred and twenty thousand people in Ninevah. I'm worried about them."

The scriptural record stops there, but I can hear Jonah sputtering.

"It's a horse of a different color. They didn't leave a perfectly good place to ride on a flee-bitten bark only to be tossed into a stormy sea. They didn't spend three nights in the deep in the digestive track of a fish. You're comparing apples and oranges. They. . . . . .A hundred and twenty thousand did you say? You da man. But it sure would have been one big scene of destruction to watch. And what am I to say when I'm accused of delivering a false word, anyway?"

A really big Silence from on high.

Jonah's last word, "Trust you? Implicitly?" Sigh.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. -Jeremiah 29:11

The "Ranchon" is now full and running over every service. Even prayer meetings have outgrown the enclosed church building across the street. Much work will be required to enclose this area. Help us pray for funds to renovate the building.

NEWS FROM NICARAGUA

A Book-of-Acts revival is taking place at La Vid Verdadera in Managua, Nicaragua. New people are being added to the church daily! Attendance at the services has increased from 400 to 700. Along with this phenomenal renewal, there has also come intense opposition to the preaching of the gospel. Several of the neighbors have registered their complaints with the city officials and are attempting to closed down worship at the church. Recently the pastor was cited to appear in court for disturbing the peace. Now the church has hired attorneys to mount its defense. It appears that they will have to add more blocks to their walls to make the building “soundproof”.

In the meantime, rocks are being hurled as parishioners make their way and return from church. Water balloons and urine-filled balloons are being hurled during the services, in an attempt to disrupt the services.

This is a testing time for a church in revival. Pray that God would bring confusion and chaos to the adversary’s attempt to hinder the new wave of God’s renewal. Pray especially for protection and provision for the church under the direction of Pastor Bismarck Quinto.

See also: http://www.jccelgin.org/MISSIONS

At left: Pastor Yvon, his wife and children. At right Pastor Bertrand and wife. They have eight children. Pictures were taken in July, 2003.


NEW PERSPECTIVE

I've spent the last two and a half weeks mourning the loss of my friend. But this weekend God put things into perspective for me. We received the following letter from a friend we have visited twice in Haiti, in April 2003 and again in July that year. On the April visit, my husband and I along with a friend ministered at a ministers' conference in Mirebelais. In July I returned with a team to work at an orphanage, painting, cleaning, repairing beds and bringing clothing and toiletries for 13 young girls in a city near Port Au Prince.

Not long after our visit, Haiti's political climate became violent and dangerous for foreigners. We were not able to return the next summer as planned. Fron time to time we have received emails from Bishop Bertrand indicating that things have continued to deteriorate.

Yesterday this email arrived from him:


Dear Pastor Bob.

"Know therefore that the Lord thy God, He is God, the faithful God, which keepeth convenant and mercy with them that love him and keep His commandments, to a thousand generation Deut.7:9"

"The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer: my God, my strength, in whom I will trust: my buckler,and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.Psalms 18:2"


God is worthy to be praised


Greetings to you in the name of the Lord Jesus! I pray this letter will reach you, your family and your ministry well.

It's been a year since security has been very unstable in the city of Port-au-Prince in the other city nearby where they have been kidnapping people and asked a lot of money in USD to release who ever they catch. Unfortunately, a lot of pastors and foreigners missionaries have been victims so far. I have tried my best not to be a victim. As result I have not invited any missionary to come to Haiti since I was being cautious of not going to those Surburbs around Port-au-Prince. Although I have been very cautious, but that did not prevent me from being a victim as well.

On Sunday night of February 18th after the presidential election, there was a gang from another village came in my church as we gathered to pray at our Sunday night service. They came asked for me and for my assistant, pastor Yvon. They came to kill us, but our God was there and He did not allow them to do that. God by His power has protected us by His mighty hands. We were at the church building at that time, my family was there as well, and they could not see us.

As a result they started to shoot at the people during the service. They killed our deacon, and shot our worship pastor twice on his back. In addition, another young man received one bullet on his leg. My assistant pastor and his family are safe. The other leaders and I are in hiding three hour drive away from my village with our family. Our church was closed since then, and some of the brothers decided to reopen last Sunday. I am now in the mountain area where I currently take refuge. I have no access to the internet. I have to go to the nearest town to find a cyber cafe in order to communicate with the exterior. The National Police of Haiti started to make some investigation on that.

Please continue to pray for us because we are still being persecuted. The reason is because the people of our chuch did not vote for the elected president. A voodoo priest and his followers in our village have paid a gang from another village to kill the leaders of our congregation.

I would like to request more prayers from your congregation and yourself for the following:

1) Pray, so God can restore peace in my mind soon.

2) Pray for my proctection with my family as well as the other leaders and their families.

3) Pray for pastor Vladimir Joseph. He is suffering a lot with two bullets in his back. They can not operate on him yet until a month. I will need some financial support for him. Or if someone or an organization that can help to take him to the U.S for the operation that will be wonderful, because I think Haiti may not be able to perform the perfect care that he might require.

4) Pray as well for the deacon's wife who is now a widow. She's only 30 years old with five children. if anyone could help her with some basic monthly support that will be appreciate.

5) Pray for me since I have no place to stay and my children are spread all over now. I need some financial help so I can rent a house somewhere else because I do not plan to go back to that same village. Even though I will not go back but I still have in mind to continue my ministry there.

"Finally, brethren, pray for us that the word of the Lord may spread rapidly and be glorified, just as it did also with you; and that we may be delivered from perverse and evil men; for not all have faith. 2 Thess. 3:1-2'


In His name ,

L. Bertrand.

Please join me in prayer for this pastor, these people and the rest of Haiti. I'm sure this is not an isolated story.

Does put a different light on things, doesn't it? "God, thank you for reminding me that you have blessed me, indeed."

Phylis

See also: http://www.jccelgin.org/MISSIONS

We stood on this hill in Managua last summer and looked down at a lake. It was very difficult to see from where we were, but there was a thin cable that circled the lake. Hanging from the platform beneath us was a contraption of sorts -- like the kind of harness used to climb mountains -- attached to a pulley that then would roll along that cable. A passenger could be suspended from the cable and for a breathtaking half hour or so receive the scenic ride of a lifetime. A young man tried for several minutes to get one of us to try the ride. There were no takers.

For me, the water was simply too deep, the fall too great, the cable too thin and the harness too flimsy to provide me with enough security to prevent a heart attack from the sheer sense of danger.

Deep water is not something that I approach with joy. Sometimes, however, God takes us on an unexpected journey through deep water. On shore once more, there's opportunity to rejoice in the fact that no one loves us like He does.

Deep Waters

Some of you set sail in big ships;

you put to sea to do business in faraway ports.
Out at sea you saw God in action,

saw his breathtaking ways with the ocean:
With a word he called up the wind -

an ocean storm, towering waves!

You shot high in the sky,

then the bottom dropped out;

your hearts were stuck in your throats.
You were spun like a top,

you reeled like a drunk,

you didn't know which end was up.

Then you called out to God in your desperate condition;

he got you out in the nick of time.
He quieted the wind down to a whisper,

put a muzzle on all the big waves.
And you were so glad when the storm died down,

and he led you safely back to harbor.

So thank God for his marvelous love,

for his miracle mercy to the children he loves.
Lift high your praises when the people assemble,

shout Hallelujah when the elders meet!

Psalm 107:23-32 The Message

THOUGHTS: I've received so many comforting and inspiring notes from a myriad of people, it is impossible to acknowledge them all. I will be using them in the album I'll be creating. It isn't quite the album that I anticipated, but it's a story to be told, none-the-less. I'd also like to share a couple of them that struck a particular chord with me.

A friend was explaining her loss a few years ago and her response to the inevitable "Why". When anyone would mention the "why" to her, her response was, "I don't know. That's a management question and I'm in sales."

Then from another friend, "All I could think of was, "What was the use then of the surgery? It all seemed such a waste, but in a flash this paragraph read long ago in These Strange Ashes (by Elisabeth Elliot) comes to mind -- and there was comfort, then, in resting in his far greater purposes.

From These Strange Ashes "...Faith, prayer, and obedience are our requirements. We are not offered in exchange immunity and exemption from the world's woes. What we are offered has to do with another world altogether...

"A story is told of Jesus and his disciples walking one day along a stony road. Jesus asked each of them to choose a stone to carry for Him. John, it is said, chose a large one while Peter chose the smallest. Jesus led them then to the top of a mountain and commanded that the stones be made bread. Each disciple, by this time tired and hungry, was allowed to eat the bread he held in his hand, but of course Peter's was not sufficient to satisfy his hunger. John gave him some of his.

"Some time later Jesus again asked the disciples to pick up a stone to carry. This time Peter chose the largest of all. taking them to a river, Jesus told them to cast the stones into the water. They did so, but looked at one another in bewilderment.

"'For whom,' asked Jesus, 'did you carry the stone?'"

from These Strange Ashes by Elisabeth Elliot

At the memorial service, I was asked to share amusing moments from Victor's life. The following is a written version of that address.

Those of us who knew and loved Victor, know that he had two speeds: Fast and Stop. He was either all there or not there at all. For example, Marta shares that when she got a positive read on a home pregnancy test; Victor was asleep. She tried waking him; he resisted. In response to her announcement, he grunted. Finally, she got his attention. He jumped out of bed, jumped up and down, danced around the room solo. Then he grabbed Marta and for the next 10 minutes they jumped and danced around the room together.

He was very quick at learning English and wasn't afraid to use his newfound knowledge of language. Victor told the story of visiting an elegant restaurant in Miami during his first week in the U.S. He was with an American couple. They were waiting for the maitre'd to find seating, so he took the time to look around. On the wall he saw a word that he recognized, "Pull". he said to himself, "I know what that means. Pull means halar." So he pulled on the handle above the sign.

Immediately there was a loud commotion. Restaurant employees were running frantically, obviously searching for something. Victor tapped his friend on the shoulder and whispered, "I think I did something wrong. I pulled that handle over there. "

"Why would you do that?" puzzled his friend.

"It said pull," replied Victor. "I knew that meant halar. So I pulled."

It was a fire alarm. Apologies were made and accepted. No arrest; no cops.

Victor was fortunate that way. It was probably his charming smile. On a singles outing several years later, he was pulled over for speeding. While the cop was examining his license, several black-and-whites went by, sirens blazing. The police radio summoned this cop to the scene too. Victor was simply told to slow down.

He loved staying up late. Sometimes they'd watch horror movies at Rodney's mom's house until the wee hours. Or they'd drive to Chicago on a whim at 1:00 a.m. to try an ethnic restaurant.

Victor was also patient. Marta says that on their first date, he waited three hours for her to get ready. They first met September 27 when she was 15 and he was 26. Sixteen years later they were married.

Marta reports that his patience was called on after marriage because she couldn't cook. For several months she says that he was here guinea pig while she practiced cooking. She also ruined his favorite shirt with bleach.

Speaking of housework, Victor joined our household in Elgin in 1982. He was appalled when I showed him how to use the washer and dryer. He said he didn't think he could learn to use them. Our household was full; I was working fulltime, going to school, and we were pastoring the church. So I told him he could wash his clothes by hand in the bathtub if he preferred that to the machines. He learned to do his laundry in the machines!

But he didn't enjoy housework and avoided it whenever possible. A few years he joined a friend who had purchased a house. The deal was that Rodney would cook; Victor would wash dishes. But Victor wouldn't fulfill his part of the bargain. Finally Rodney just wouldn't wash the dishes. They piled up for a week before Victor decided to do them. After that he washed dishes regularly!

I also showed him how to cook: He never got past a hamburger and rice. Except that he discovered he could pan fry a steak just like a hamburger. After that I had to change my habit of buying steaks on sale and freezing them for an appropriate moment or Victor would eat them.

Victor loved meat. One summer I was on a salad kick. We had chef salad, cobb salad, taco salad, spinach and beef salad, etc. Then one night I cooked a pot roast. Victor whispered in an aside to Rob, "Finally, a real meal."

One year, we took the Youth Group on a trip to Mexico. Victor was one of the adult sponsors, but at that time he still had a Peruvian passport. We discovered at gate that he needed a visa from the Mexican Counsulate in order to board the plane. So Vic stayed in Chicago an extra day to get his visa. We arranged to meet him in Guadalajara.

However, he didn't make it for 36 hours and by that time we were on a very bad bus ride to a Rancho somewhere in the mountains between Guadalajara and Mexico City. We returned four days later to Guadalajara. Victor had been at the hotel where I had made arrangements for him to stay. But since he had spent most of his pocket money obtaining a Mexican visa, he was able to buy only rice and beans for the three days in Guadalajara. When we were all together again and sat down in a restaurant to eat, I asked the group what they would like to eat. Victor's reply became a cliche' at JCC: "I wanth meath."

Victor was an exemplary Couch Potato: King of the remote control and a master at Channel Surfing. It was an Olympic Sport with him. He could watch more programs at one time than anyone I've ever known. It occasionally got him into trouble. One cold winter morning he started the car to go to work and came back in the house for his two minutes of Channel Surfing. When he stepped back out to the curb, the car was gone, stolen! It was found perfectly intact in Chicago a week later. Someone had just taken it for a joy ride.

He was also competitive. He had been a young phenomenon in Peru, playing professional soccer while still a teenager. That drive to do his best followed him his entire life. He taught Rob and Brad to play soccer, showing them tricks, scrimimmaging with them. Rob says that he rarely let them make a goal and never would let them win a game against him. They were four and five.

That drive served him well in other areas of his life. He served God with all his heart; he preached fervently; he sang passionately. He loved family and friends wholeheartedly, and he was completely devoted to his wife and son.

Victor, we miss you. We miss your quick wit, your sense of humor, your joyous smile, your quiet spirit, your loyalty. We'll always have with us the intensity of your love for family and friends. Our lives are richer for having known you.

MEN'S CHORALE

Quito, Ecuador

May, 1978

Victor has his hands on the shoulders of the friends standing in front of him, Vicente Quezada and Carlos Arceniega

Obituary available at:

http://www.suburbanchicagonews.com/couriernews/obits/