"A Sermon Walking"

Reporters and city officials gathered at a Chicago railroad station one afternoon in 1953. The person they were meeting was the 1952 Nobel Peace Prize winner. A few minutes after the train came to a stop, a giant of a man - six feet four inches - with bushy hair and a large mustache stepped from the train. Cameras flashed. City officials approached him with hands outstretched. Various people began telling him how honored they were to meet him.

The man politely thanked them and then, looking over their heads, asked if he could be excused for a moment.  He quickly walked through the crowd until he reached the side of an elderly black woman who was struggling with two large suitcases.  He picked up the bags and with a smile, escorted the woman to a bus.  After helping her aboard, he wished her a safe journey.  As he returned to the greeting party he apologized, "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

The man was Dr. Albert Schweitzer, the famous missionary doctor who had spent his life helping the poor in Africa.  In response to Schweitzer's action, one member of the reception committee said with great admiration to the reporter standing next to him, "That's the first time I ever saw a sermon walking."

- Author Unknown

Let us all celebrate our freedom daily, and let us all be a sermon walking!  

Michael J. Issertell

         When I was a youngster Memorial Day was a pretty big deal in my home town.  Growing up in North-East New Jersey I was surrounded by the remembrances of war.  The little town library I often visited was a nearly 200 year old homestead that General George Washington actually stayed in and used as a headquarters.  We were a short distance from a museum dedicated to the Dutch colonialists who first settled the area and lost it to the British through war.  I often had the joy of hiking the trails at Stony Point, New York where the American Revolutionaries held off the British from sailing up the Hudson River.  Just up the hill from my home was a monument to the embarkation camp where thousands of our GI’s gathered before heading overseas in WWI and WWII.  I saw that memorial on a regular basis.
          Perhaps the greatest reminder of war in my town was the Memorial Day Parade.  It was a special time with most of the community either in the parade or lining the street watching it.
          The Police Department marched with pride and polish. They were often followed by the entire volunteer Fire Department and all the “rigs” decked out.  There was red, white and blue bunting everywhere.
          The high school band marched and played as well as all the service groups of the town.  The Boy and Girl Scouts, the Rainbow Girls and the city officials were sprinkled throughout.
          The band music, fire engine sirens and the car horns all blended in a cacophony of patriotic pride.
          Along with my parents and my little brother we would take our folding chairs and walk up to the main “drag” where we would sit with anticipation for the first sound or glimpse of the band.
          American flags were everywhere.  Even as a youngster, I felt pride in my town and my country.
          Perhaps the most important entries in the parade were the military groups.  We had a National Guard Armory in out town and they marched with their Jeeps and tanks with full dress uniforms on and then best of all, we watched the Vets. We had men and women from several wars and they marched along, some in too-tight uniforms of days gone bye but proud just the same.
          One might ask why I would write about a parade some fifty years ago on a church blog.  Well, the answer my friends is this:  We as Americans and Christians still need to remember and honor our veterans.
          I remember when we were proud of our fighting men and women and I remember times when they were booed at or even worse.
          As we approach another Memorial Day, I trust we can think of more than just picnics, shopping, or a day off from work.  I hope we all take a few moments to appreciate all that our uniformed troops have done to keep us safe, defeat tyranny and free millions from dictators and despots.
          Take time to thank a vet.  Set out American Flags.  Visit some shut-in or hospitalized fighting men and women.
          I hope you have a great day as you celebrate all those who have gone on before us to make us free today.  I can thank the memory of a Grandpa who lied about his age so he could fight in the Spanish-American War…a Grandpa who fought as a Canadian in the British Army in WWI…my Dad and his brother and sister who all served in WWII along with my Mom’s two brothers who served in the Navy in WWII as well. My brother and my Father-in-law both served in the Navy, in WWII and in peacetime respectively.  
          Take time to thank them and thank the good Lord for all He has done to bless this great nation and all who have sacrificed so much for us.

After trying to justify why I couldn't go, I found myself calling Anglin and saying yes. Begrudingly, I went.
 
We arrived at the house in Stockton and it was full of 15-20 middle school and high schoolers. There were also 5-6 adults including the youth pastor. They were a spirited bunch and seemed to really enjoy one another's company. There was a balcony above the pool that the kids were using as a diving board. Yikes!
 
After meeting everyone and hanging out for awhile I decided to take of my shoes and put my feet in the jacuzzi (heelloo, who wouldn't?!). I was chatting with Anglin and some of the kids when I heard screaming. The youth pastor was screaming "He's not breathing! He's not breathing." I looked over and saw a teen lying on the grass with the youth pastor kneeling over him.   His lips were blue and he was unconcious. The youth pastor was looking in his mouth screaming "He's choking! He's not breathing!" I ran over and went into auto-pilot. I thought to myself "If he's choking he needs THIS." I put my hands above his belly button and shoved in and up, like I've been taught (I was a pool lifeguard for 10 years). The young man, Martin, coughed-up water and opened his eyes. He was very lathargic and couldn't speak to us coherently. The paramedics showed up and took Martin to the hospital. They called it a "wet drowning".  Martin was in the hospital for 7 days because of the water in his lungs. He got an infection and they wanted to make sure he was ok. As far as I have heard, Martin is a healthy, happy teenager.
 
I do not know what would've happened to Martin if I hadn't been there. It's probable God may have used someone else. But that day, he chose to use me. His gentle, nudging whisper sent me to a pool party in Stockton. To a young boy named Martin who changed my life. I don't ever want to ignore God's whisper again. If He calls, I want to go. You never know, someone's life could be at stake.
 
~Lori Sipkovich

Married almost 38 years.  We have two daughters, one son-in-law and three grandchildren.  Our younger daughter is getting married in October in S.Cal, so we’ll soon have another son-in –law with more grand kids to come!!  In August of 2009 we sold our Roseville home and moved into our motor home and we’re now “fulltiming” – traveling and working at campgrounds across the country.  Our last two years in Roseville, we were fortunate to be a part of Bridgeway.   From time to time we’ll report on our adventures and let you know how the Lord is using us as mobile vagrants.

Called to Tennessee

In June and July last year, we received 3 phone calls from a campground in Tennessee.  Although we thought it was a good fit for us, we weren’t ready to go.  Our house wasn’t even on the market when we received the first call and hadn’t yet sold when we got the third call.  We thought the Lord was trying to tell us something so on July 26th, we committed to an end of August arrival in Tennessee.  At that point we said to ourselves – “Now what have we done”?  How are we going to sell our home (no offers at this point), downsize from 3,000 square feet to 300 and drive across the country in a five week time frame??

The Lord must have chuckled at those anxious thoughts.  The very next day our house sold!!!  It was purchased by a real estate agent and her husband who really weren’t ready to purchase another house nor were they interested in a two story (ours was).  As of January no one was living in it yet.  I mention that she was a real estate agent because that helped the sale process move along more quickly.

Not only did we have a house to sell but we also needed to sell and/or donate all of our furnishings right down to forks, knives and spoons along with most of our clothes.  Fortunately, God worked out those details too as we were able to donate a good portion of our belongings to William Jessup University and help them equip the new apartment being used for missionaries on furlough.

In a difficult real estate market, when appraisals, home inspections, title searches and everything else involved should have taken well beyond 30 days to complete, we left Ca. with all the paperwork signed on August 23rd – 28 days after committing to follow what we believe the Lord was asking us to do.  It goes beyond my ability to communicate to you all that the Lord accomplished in 28 days.  Seven months later, we’re still shaking our heads in amazement as we reflect on all that He did.

 God has used us in Tennessee to be witnesses to Joe and Sue – the campground owners.  There are a number of issues they are working through, not the least of which is divorce.  Please pray for them.  God has also provided numerous opportunities throughout the winter for us to visit our parents in Ohio and our grand kids in Georgia.  Last but not least, He directed us to a great church where we have been welcomed even though we are “left coast yankees”.

More later as we head for Florida in April.

Isaiah 55:9

Mission trip to

 “Gleaning for the Hungry,” a YWAM ministry

from Jim Durden

Location: Sultana, CA,  Ph. (559) 591 5009,  e-mail -  www.gleanings.org  

Directors: Rick and Lynn O’Dwyer

Dates: February 14 to 20, 2010

BridgeBuilder Team:  Diane and Dick Bussani               Pinky and Dennis Hordyk

                                    Becky and Glen Cardaronella               Enid and Phil Smith

                                    Marge and Jim Durden             Loretta and Ken Walker

                                    Nancy and Dennis Gilman

This was the most dedicated, hardworking, skilled and gifted team I have ever been with on a similar trip. They are a wonderful fun loving, caring group filled with love and unity; one that truly listened with their eyes and saw through their hearts.

Fourteen members of Bridgeway Christian Church, BridgeBuilders (50 PLUS Ministry) went to Sultana, across the street from Dinuba, North of Visalia, and South of Fresno, CA last week to serve the Lord by laboring at “Gleaning for the Hungry.” “Gleanings” is a ministry of YWAM with the mission of preparing and sending food to the most impoverished areas in the world. The food comes from the San Joaquin and Sacramento Valleys and is procured by the old Biblical concept of “gleaning” that which would be wasted or left to rot in the fields. They primarily glean fruits and vegetables but also process other food products from donating industries that are overages or those near expiration. We participated in processing soup mixes, building maintenance, repairing drying trays for the summer fruit season, landscaping, painting, quilting and kitchen/office duty with 3 other church groups and individuals (~60 volunteers) from across the USA and Canada. (Eh)

 The most exciting time each day was everyone gathering for corporate worship where we sang, prayed for each other, prayed for the people on the field, prayed for the containers filled with food, prayed for the recipients, heard from the director of YWAM, Port au Prince (Earthquake relief both medical and food,) heard answers to prayer, and testimonies of God’s grace in transforming the lives of recipients. The unity and fellowship was almost unbelievable considering we had several different denominations and two, who were of the Muslim religion, who came to see the humanitarian relief effort (they told of experiencing God’s love through his people.) It was an awesome experience to gather around a truck with a container loaded with one million servings of food bound for the poorest of the poor in the world. We had the privilege of praying it out the gate four times during the week: one to Sierra Leone, one to Haiti and two to Guatemala.

At the end of the week, with many muscle aches in new places, there was not only a great sense of accomplishment but joy in our hearts over doing something significant that would be used to save lives physically and tell the good news of God’s love to a hurting world.

Accomplishments of the group:

                         - Processed 2,174,000 servings of soup mix (two ship containers on  

                           their way to Haiti.

                        - Reconstructed 600 to 800 wooden drying trays for the fruit season.

                        - Gardening/landscaping 10 missionary housing units and area fencing

                        - Painted trellises and storage facility.

                        - Made six quilts to go to Eastern Europe.

                        - Kitchen/housekeeping/office duty (peeling potatoes, cleaning toilets,                               stuffing 5700 mailings…..)

We were so desirous of doing this again we scheduled reservations in the year 2011 and 2012 to return with a group.

Some new dates to calendar:

                        - Prior to July, 2010   - BridgeBuilders to provide a fund raising dinner                             using the soup mix for the High School’s trip to “Gleanings.”

                        - July 18-24, 2010  - High School @ Gleanings w/20 students and a                                minimum of 4 sponsors – (Fruit processing)   

                        - January to March, 2011  - Construction of 10-Plex Building (Individual                                      skilled workers)

                        - October 23-29, 2011  - Reservation for 20 people (Trail mix processing)

                        - March  11-17, 2012  - Reservation for 30 people ( Soup mix processing)

 After seeing the photos of destruction in Haiti, the make-shift clinic where they used amputation as the only means of saving lives, YWAM‘s people sleeping in tents on the Police Station’s collapsed roof and then the very malnourished children in Guatemala (the largest number at ages 0 to 4 in Latin America) we were not only sad but also glad to be a small part of bringing relief to a few. Thank God for the ministry of “Gleanings” and their concern for the downtrodden and poor.

The instance that first got me thinking about His touch is found in Genesis when Noah had finished building the ark and was moving his family and all the animals in before the rains came.  In Genesis 7:16 it says “Then the Lord shut him in.”  Almighty God touched the door of the ark!!!  If the ark is ever found for sure, I want to touch that door.  I want to touch where God touched.  Wouldn’t that be cool?

Also in the book of Genesis, there are several other places where God the Father/Creator touched something or someone.  In Chapter 2 God made the first man, Adam, from the dust of the ground and then touched him as He breathed His breath into Adam’s nostrils.  Later in the same chapter God performed the first surgery when He put Adam to sleep and removed one of his ribs to make Eve.  Sadly, in chapter 3 we see that God had to kill an animal and make garments to cover Adam and Eve due to their disobedience.  He as Heavenly Father touched the animal as He prepared their coverings.

In Exodus 31:18 it says that God gave Moses the two tablets of stone inscribed by the finger of God.  Wow!  I wonder where the stone tablets came from.  God must have hewn them Himself perhaps right from the mountain.

In Jeremiah 1 it tells us that us that Jeremiah was told to speak for God and he expressed reservation about being able to do that.  In verse 9 it says that God touched his mouth with His hand and God put His words in Jeremiah’s mouth.

In Daniel 5, King Belshazzar was celebrating and abusing items taken from the temple of God.  Suddenly, something like a human hand, unattached to any body, began writing a message to the king on the wall.  That was God’s “touch” in a very unusual way.

In the New Testament there are many examples of the touch of God when Jesus healed the blind and sick; raised the dead; and broke the bread and fish as He fed thousands.

He touched Peter’s hand when Peter became afraid when walking on the water to the Lord and in Luke 9 He held a child close.

In Luke 22 we see where Jesus cradled a man’s ear and reattached it after Peter had impetuously swiped it off with his sword.

In the Book of John, chapter 8 we find the account of the woman caught in adultery and when Jesus confronted her accusers, He began to write in the dirt.  He touched the dirt to give a message to those who would stone her and they all left.

In the gospels we read the sad and glorious story of the crucifixion and we read that Jesus carried His own cross.  In John 20 it tells us that He breathed on His disciples and gave them the Holy Spirit.  Breathe on me, breath of God!

Finally, in John 21 we find that the Lord cooked a barb-b-que for his followers and then served them breakfast.  I want that meal.

I am an emotional guy and I have to admit, I am a “touchy-feely” type of person.  When I pray, I often tell the Lord that I wish I could see Him and fall at His feet and actually hug His feet and let my tears fall on them.  I know I have to wait until Heaven to do that but I can’t wait to have His touch on me!

Perhaps you would like to do your own search and find all the instances where God touched someone or something.  I keep a running list and add to it as I discover them.

Blessings on you.

I was in a low last night, feeling sorry for myself and thinking, poor me, how could this happen? How could my wallet have been stolen? How could someone steal my money? I was so consumed about myself. And then this morning on my way to meet the team I took a Maxi Taxi, while on it a family got on.

It looked like a grandmother, her two grown daughters, a grown son, a little boy about 4 years old and one infant about 6 months old. They all had on tattered clothes on, the little boy had no shoes, the baby had clothes on that looked too small and used. The grandmother looked aged and worn, her face reflected frustration, tiredness and anguish, every wrinkle seemed to have a story. The little boy was covered in dirt and looked bronzed from the sun with dry skin. He seemed excited to be on the Maxi Taxi, from what I could guess it is because they probably walked everywhere. The daughter holding the infant was sweaty and looked tired and worn, her infant on her lap didn't make a sound and hardly moved. The other daughter had long hair that looked untamed past her waist. No of them hardly spoke a word to each other and as they sat down for their short ride it was if they fell into their seats with the weight of the world on their shoulders. I looked at the family and thought, "I can only imagine the life they have seen".

It was then as I reflected on my situation and how selfish I had been. Here I was sulking about my situation when all my needs are provided, I have not gone without. I was mulling over money when here was a family that probably didn't know where their next meal was going to come from, then reality hit me and my little selfish bubble burst. The world seemed big again, with big problems and mine came in to perspective and were so small.

I came here to Romania because I felt a calling, that God called me to be here. I spend my nights praying for grace and light to shine from my being. I pray for eyes to see those hurting and give a helping hand and here I was blinded by my selfishness. I am blessed by so much and I am so thankful for what I have. I am here to serve others and already I was sidetracked by my own selfishness. Praise God that he opened my eyes and allowed me to see again.

Love, Krista

P.S. - Thank you everyone so much for all of those who send encouraging words to lift me up, I am blessed by you!

Because we live in a land where we worship as we choose, we will likely never come to a crossroad that tests faith to this extreme.  Nonetheless, I think it’s important to recognize our sworn adversary is not only cunning but resourceful, capable of “sifting” us with any elements at his disposal.  While we no longer face lions and tigers and bears, I suggest many of us are beset by the alienation, apathy, and weariness that are byproducts of our culture.  Borrowing from English novelist Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities, I view the present as something akin to “the best of times” and “the worst of times.”

Despite a world replete with boundless information and rapid-fire communication, we feel dispossessed and strangely alone.  We try to make sense of the catastrophes and collapsing economies around us — or even make sense of our lives — and become disillusioned when the pieces don’t fit.  We are tired.  The race set before us may appear pointless and thankless.  We see all too often, as outspoken baseball manager Leo Durocher once remarked, that nice guys (and gals) finish last.

Some of the spiritual battles we fight today, though they assume a discernibly different guise, are no less real than those waged by the early Christians.  Many of them were called to die for their faith.  Unless we confront hostile governments on foreign mission fields, we are enjoined only to live for ours.  The “only” seems monumental on days we barely trudge along, much less sprint, in the race.  I believe, though, the act of simply putting one foot in front of the other also demonstrates faith.
Speaking of feet, when his persecutors were preparing to burn him alive, Polycarp declined having his feet fixed to the stake.  I’ll bet that the phrase about holding someone’s feet to the fire hails directly from early Christian martyrdom.  History relates Polycarp was originally intended to be cast to wild animals.

I confess, like most of us, I am altogether unwilling to deal with lions and tigers and bears unless they are on the other side of a barrier at the San Diego Zoo or in a box of animal crackers.  I confess, too, that the astounding faith of Polycarp and others like him humbles me and helps me to put my own trials in perspective — momentarily.  Still, propelled by the author and perfecter of all faith, I proceed, moment by moment, flanked by surer and certainly swifter runners, as do we all, one step at a time.

That Sherman was openly unenthusiastic about, if not overtly opposed to, leading banners for the North is understatement.  He told his brother John, a U.S. Senator, “You politicians have got things in a hell of a fix, and you may get them out as best you can.”  But, once persuaded to take up his post, despite a lingering aversion to politics and an acute consciousness of his shortcomings, lead he did, many say brilliantly.

I was lately reminded of Sherman’s initial refusal to become involved in his country’s woes.  While I lamented to a dear friend about the world’s consuming afflictions, for which I could discern no apparent relief forthcoming from a sovereign God, she proposed God sometimes compels us to confront our misfortunes without undue intervention, like a parent, I suppose, who wisely concludes a child’s own mistakes may be the best teacher.

Looking at history, I’m not confident humanity on the whole has profited from its errors.  I see far more evidence on the side of philosopher George Santayana’s oft-misquoted observation that “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

Further, in reviewing hardships, I find it tough to accept that suffering (and benefit) are not meted out to accommodate our culture’s universally touted “level playing field” (the sun rises and rain falls on the righteous and unrighteous, Matthew 5:45).  As a result, for example, I witness responsible citizens and unscrupulous Wall Street bankers snared in the same financial debacle.  God never predicted we would call this fair.  If anything, it contradicts our human notions of equity and may be small comfort to many who endure an adversity of which they are largely casualties and not cause.
As bewildered as the next guy about each day’s current events, I nonetheless like to believe we can take valuable lessons from these times, whatever our existing circumstances.  Perhaps our perspectives are necessarily being shifted from real estate and other tangibles we cannot take with us to yet-unseen (and often seemingly “un”-real) heavenly “holdings.”

Admittedly with misgivings, I also want to believe God has far from turned away from us but may have, rather, stepped back temporarily, for our ultimate good.  Sherman was a  born leader who could not resist indefinitely the mark he was to make on history, though he managed to defer it.  Because God is infinitely greater than an army of such luminaries as Sherman, He is never a reluctant general.  I know almost nothing about military strategy.  All the same, I’ve learned from Civil War documentaries that those leaders most revered by their troops were men who did not take refuge behind maps and campaigns but who encouraged and guided their soldiers, more often than not, from the very front lines, expecting nothing less of them than they did of themselves.

We recognize in Jesus, who endured all we endure, a God who freely submitted to “coming up through the ranks” when He could have easily “pulled rank.”  I take no small comfort in that certitude.

Living in the village was an awesome experience.  We lived without electricity or running water.  We had an out house a little ways off at the edge of a coconut grove and a wash house made of woven palm fronds behind our house.  Our floor was sand, and my mom would use a broom made of palm fronds to sweep it.  My dad worked with the village men to build a mud stove that my mom used to cook our meals.  (Have I mentioned yet how amazing my parents are?)  

The people in our little village were so generous.  They would bring us gifts of lobster and fish and green coconuts.  I remember one time seeing a very unhappy rooster hanging upside down from a neighbor's roof.  Later that night he was our dinner, although he was a very old rooster, and so tough he was almost impossible to eat.    
 
The hardest part about being an MK was coming back to what was supposed to be "home", and not having a clue how to be an American.   We came back to the States when I was 13, and anyone who's ever been 13 knows what a fun age that is already!  Add to that not knowing the first thing about how to dress, act, or even talk like an American teenager, and it was a pretty bad time for me. Missionary kids often have a hard time in life because they feel like they don't really belong anywhere.  That's something that I still feel sometimes, even after all these years.  

But in spite of that, I consider myself extremely blessed to have the childhood that I had.  Being a missionary kid gave me a deep love, respect and appreciation for other cultures, and for the incredible people who give their lives to translating God's word into other languages.  It's something that shaped me, and it will always be a part of who I am.

Ioana's parents did come back for a visit one time. This is something that never happens at the orphanage. And it is one of the few incidents that I have ever heard of.  As they came through our gates and walked down the stone path towards the entrance of the building, you could see the regret and concern for the decision they were forced to make. But the moment that Ioana and Claudiu saw them, they took off running at full speed towards their parents with nothing but pure joy in their eyes. It had probably been a year since the last time they had seen them. And for the short while that the parents were there...we were filled with joy...but also filled with sadness at how the deepness of poverty can tear apart a family that truly longs to be together. For that short while they laughed, they hugged, they kissed each other and they embraced every moment.

That was the last time that Ioana and Claudiu saw their parents. I hear that their parents are in Spain working and I have hope that one day they may return to take their children back and reunite their family.  It is stories like Ioana's and Claudiu's that make me look at my worries in this life and shake my head in disgust. But, it is also their stories that allow me to dream and still find hope in this abrasive darkness that these kids are in.