30 December 2012
Dear Phyllis,
The other day Peg McDaniels sent me a letter saying, “Bill, you always seem to be either on the mountain peak or in a valley.” That is certainly true. I have found in life that highs and lows come in pairs. My greatest highs have always been soon followed by crashing lows. The greatest time I have ever had speaking was probably at a combined Easter sunrise service in Karuizaw in 1970. With little preparation, I stood up and brought one of my finest messages. People remarked years later what a blessing that meeting was. As brilliant things flowed from my mouth, it was like listening to someone else speak. Three hours later I was basking in the glory of that meeting when I was greeted by the news that our request from Canada for permission to get married to Rosemary had been denied. That plunged me into the deepest depression.
1980 was the year of Job. More unutterably horrible things happened to us that year than I care to recount. I had always had a good relationship with students and staff at the language school. But the devil got in that year and everything turned against me. I had hoped to spend my life in Karuizawa, but TEAM fired me from the language, and Joe Carroll told me to get out of his house which had been my home for 15 years. We were glassy-eyed and drunk with the hammering we had taken in Japan, when we returned to Greenville, SC for a furlough. But that was when the real problems started. Bob Holsten invited me to come out to Colorado to build a kitchen for him. What a relief!
It was fall and round up time in Colorado. I spent more time on a horse than I did with a hammer. But the pinnacle was the cattle drive. That was undoubtedly the highest point in my life. There has never been a day before, or since, to be its equivalent. We had spent the day rounding up and starting a three day cattle drive of over 1000 head. That night was like the night before Christmas for a 5 year old kid times ten. I was so excited that I could hardly sleep. I was counting the minutes until dawn, when we could saddle up, and continue that drive. At midnight I was waken from a deep sleep with a banging on the door. I staggered to the door to see Dave Hyde, the pastor of the church in town. He said, “Bill, Rosemary called. Your son just died.” The next day I was not sitting on a stallion driving cattle, but standing beside a coffin with a grieving wife.
That has been the story of my life. Every high has been followed by a devastating crash. I don't know why other than this is the Lord's special training for me. In the 23rd Psalm we read of two instruments – the rod and the staff – both of which are received for comfort. In scripture, the rod has a singular meaning – discipline. Proverbs warns us to not spare the rod. And encourages us that the rod will drive foolishness out of a child (Prov. 22:15; 23:13). There are 9 references to the rod in Proverbs, all of which deal with pain. I have found that the rod is necessary in raising children. It had a very good effect in raising my boys, and the three times that I have had to put the paddle on Annie have all been marked by improved character, and a deeper love for me. It is the wisdom and love of our heavenly Father that brings the rod down on us. Pain is no fun, but the Psalmist said that the rod was his comfort. That is true. The sting of the rod is a sign of the Lord's special concern and love for us. Oh the Lord is good to me!
Jeremiah tells us that the problem with Moab was that “he had settled on his lees, and had not been emptied from vessel to vessel” (Jer. 48:11). The lees is the sediment that comes out in making wine . To make good wine, the wine maker lets the wine sit in a bottle for a while to allow the sediment to go to the bottom. Then he carefully pours the good stuff into another bottle and lets it settle again. This process must be repeated several times, pouring the wine from bottle to bottle to make good wine. The Lord has been especially good to me in that He has never allowed me to settle down too long in one place. My life has been an endless process of getting poured from one bottle to another. Every time I have settled down and felt that, “This is it! This is where I want to spend the rest of my life”: bam! I get poured into another bottle. All of these times have been gut-wrenching, heart-rending, experiences.
Three weeks ago I wrote you a letter saying that “today is the happiest day of my life”. That should have been a signal that here comes another bottle. I have had three homes – all of which I have intensely enjoyed. The house on the hill in Karuizawa was a dream. It was the finest property in Japan. I mean that seriously. Joe Carroll built it (had it built) for $2,500 in 1959. He lived in it for three years, went to the states, and never came back. I lived in it for 15 years, and converted it from a liability albatross to the finest property in town. It was inaccessible, and had virtually no water. By building a unique 15 meter (45 feet) tunnel, I was able to have year around access, and fixed it up to a dream house. Joe told me to leave. My world came to an end.
Two years later Neil Verwey invited us to join Japan Mission in Ikoma, and funded the building of the Joy Corral. Oh my goodness I enjoyed that house! It was perfect! I wanted to make it western. Man howdy it was! Japanese thought they needed a visa to visit us. Japanese loved it, and so did we. But Rosemary hit burnout, and got sick of having people in. I said, “If we are not going to use this place as a maximum for serving Jesus, we don't need to live here.” I gave it to Jim Blocksom who was maxed-out for Jesus.
After my world collapsed in 1990, I never thought I would have a home again. Mark gave me one room in his Bible warehouse to sleep in, and that was my home for seven years. But then Mark moved out and we inherited this place. It seemed overwhelming to think about fixing it up, but I have made fabulous progress. We have the finest kitchen in northern Thailand. I have made a large table for having Bible studies. I finally finished making the finest bed you ever saw. I love it! You couldn't improve on it. We have a lot of plans on how we want to fixed this place up to serve the Lord.
I don't think it is going to fly. I have grave misgivings that I am not going to live in this house much longer. I hope I am wrong, but it looks like another bottle coming up.
These past two weeks have been indescribably horrible. But there has been some intervention by the Lord. Annie is gone. This is a miracle. She is in a place where she is very happy at the ,moment. She is with Paul and Marisa, and loves it there. I am grateful to the Lord that He has provided such a wonderful place for her. But it sure is hard on dad. I feel just like we have had a funeral. There is a huge hole in my heart that will not be filled. There is some concern for her though. Paul and Marisa are fantastic parents. Their strength and weakness is that they will not say no. As a result twelve children have wound up staying with them. They are like the little old lady that lived in a shoe. Their house is not that big, and they literally can't take anymore, and yet more are coming. They are seeing a moving of the Holy Spirit in that house such as I have never seen in another location. A week ago they had a little Lahu girl (minority tribe) dumped on their door step. The mother doesn't want her, and told Paul and Marisa that they can keep her. This is great for Annie. She loves to have another four year old girl to play with. And the eight other older girls living with Paul and Marisa love Annie very much.
The problem is that there may be legal complications. This arrangement is a long ways from being legally settled. If her genetic father, in southern Thailand, objects, or the Thai authorities step in, Annie could be taken away and sent back to southern Thailand. Lord, please don't let that happen.
The collateral damage from this problem is big. I had the heart-rending experience of talking to the children in Annie's kindergarten for the last time Wednesday. I didn't tell them that that was my last day. It was hard on me to be flocked by 20 - 30 little children all trying to hug Uncle B ill, knowing it was probably the last time I would see them. This has been a terrible blow to Sangha and Lek, the directors of the school, to have us out. It has been a huge plus for them to have such an unusual Uncle Bill to talk to the children every day. This will be a huge impediment for the salvation of Sanha and Lek. I don't know, maybe the Lord might intervene and turn things around, but at the moment I see little hope of that happening. Also it was hard to tell the little girl with emotional problem we were trying to help not to come anymore. You cannot have problems where the devil tears things up without taking serious collateral damage in a wide area.
I am not at liberty to discuss in detail all that has happened. I honestly don't know what has happened myself. And I am not at all sure that I know what I am up against. I don't know the problem much less know the answer. There have been some amazing dramatic swings in the scenario in the past few days. I thought I knew what was going on, and then it appeared that the Lord showed me what I thought was wrong was not true, and things were marvelously good.
I wrote a letter to my niece in Los Angeles saying “Greeting from hell”. That seemed to be where I was living at the moment. And then the pendulum swung the other way. Things looked better. But I know that both extremes are wrong. The hell I have been in for the past two weeks was intensely real. The scenario I have had to deal with was unreal. The emotional load has been enormous. Since then the Lord has been very good in sharing a lot of surprising things with me. From my heart I can thank God for the hand He has dealt me. After all, what do we want in life – a happy time, or the glory of God? Hell is no fun, but if the Lord can be honored more by my desperation than He can be by my pleasure and ease, then hell is the best place to be.
Phyllis, please, I hope you don't think too highly of me. I am not a hero. I am only a survivor. When I was going through my death with Rosemary 22 years ago, some people praised me for staying true to the Lord. I said, “True to the Lord?!! What choice did I have?” If a man is on a ship that sinks and he is bobbing around the ocean in a life jacket, is he supposed to throw away his life jacket? The only thing that was keeping me up was Jesus. How could I think of leaving Him?
I don't deserve credit for anything now. If someone steps in quick sand and sinks up to his mouth; them someone rushes forward and miraculously pulls him out; is the man a hero? Who gets the credit – the poor turkey that was in the mud, or the hero that saved him? In the news papers we don't talk about the guy covered with mud, but the credit goes to the man who rushed forward to pull him out. Phyllis, please, if I don't go below my eye brows in quick sand it is because Jesus is fantastic.
What happens to me is of little consequence. If Jesus can receive more glory and honor through my inadequacies and distress, then isn't that good? 2012 has been a good year. God is good. He only does good things. He has given me His best. Praise the Lord!
bill