Not at Liberty to Share

28 October 2012

Dear Phyllis,

This past week has been a bad one. A ridiculous thing happened that has been dishonoring clear across the board. Here is what happened.

I'm sorry. I am not at liberty to share such news that was so dishonoring to Christ and all of us. All I can say is that it was frightening, disgusting and embarrassing. I have been made to look like the north end of Balaam's pony headed south. There are a number of people who have spoken very ill of us. I have vigorously spoken out against this in defense of our honor. I have been forced to admit that our enemies are right and I am wrong. There is not much more I can say.

On the positive side, I thank the Lord that He was faithful in the face of what I thought was a disaster..

bill

God's Glory Revealed in Suffering

21 October 2012

Dear Phyllis,

I have mentioned my friend Paul and his wife Marisa to you several times. They are a phenomenon such as I have never seen in my life. Paul was the most unlikely, unqualified, impossible candidate for salvation that you could imagine. He never did get saved in the traditional way that we consider essential for salvation. But today they are cutting a swath for God that is off the charts. For the past ten months Paul has come over to see me almost daily. Superlatives have become as common as salt and pepper on mashed potatoes. His common remark has been; “The greatest meeting ever! “It was like Pentecost!” This tops it all!”, “Nothing like this has ever happened before.” The reports just keep going on and on. I have warned Paul, “This isn't going to keep up indefinitely. Sooner or later the tide will go the other way and you are going to have real problems.”

It happened. Last week they had their third or fourth camp. Every one up until now has been more and more astounding. It was anybody's guess what would happen this time. They were expecting perhaps as many as 100, but a week before the camp Paul told me that the potential attendance had already gone well past 100. It actually topped out at about 150. There were good things that did come out of it. Three people got saved. But it was like lighting a fire cracker that didn't go off. Our friend, Mike, was one of the speakers and he came to deliver the village from the grip of the devil. He spoke on deliverance and then had a big bond fire to burn fetishes and objects of idolatry. It is almost universal that the hill tribe people wear strings around their writs to protect them from evil spirits. It is usually a battle to get them to cut these strings off. Mike said, “Alright, all you people with stings on your writs cut them off and come forward to burn them in this fire”. No one moved. There weren't any. Mike suggested several other things that he expected they would come forward to burn. But this was a Christian village and they just didn't have the things Mike expected. The fire might have been used for a marshmallow roast, but didn't amount to a major break with the devil.

Paul has had some amazing experiences with the Holy Spirit. In their family with their ten children (staying with them), they have seen some astounding events of the Holy Spirits working. Paul felt he knew how to bring the Holy Spirit down and turn meetings into a Pentecost. He told everyone how to pray and then he took off praying the way he thought best to produce a torrent of confession and tears. He closed his eyes and did his thing for a few minutes. Then he opened his eyes expecting to see everyone on the floor confessing sin and pleading with God for mercy. Instead of Pentecost, he was surprised to see a room full of silent people looking at him, wondering why he was carrying on in that way. Not exactly Pentecost, or what was supposed to happen.

A large number of key people were sick and didn't get healed. It was bitter cold and they were ill prepared to deal with the weather. One couple that Paul brought to be a blessing alienated the crowd so badly that the leader of the village spoke to Paul saying, if he ever brought that couple back to that village he would not be welcomed for another camp.

But the most serious thing happened on the way home. They didn't have a bus, but carried over 15 young people in the back of two trucks. As they started home the heavens opened, and rain came down like Paul had never seen in his life. It was like being drenched with a fire hose. The folks in the back had zero protection. To say they got drenched doesn't really describe it. Thailand is warm, but they were fairly high in the mountains and the temperature was unbelievably cold. After driving for over an hour Paul stopped at a checkpoint, and the kids in one truck frantically called to him. He went over to see what was wrong, and was terrified see two of his children out cold with hypothermia. There are no heaters in Thia trucks and they couldn't get the truck warm. The sick kids inside the truck took their dry clothes off and they changed the soaking wet clothes on the two unconscious kids. Nothing Paul did could revive them. He slapped them, shook them, and shouted; but there was no response. Their pulse was thump...thump...thump. Barely moving. Paul said that was the darkest moment of his life. He doesn't know how long they were out, but it was half an hour after they got home before Mathew and Benjua finally, miraculously, came to. It seems that there is no lasting ill-effect from that plunge into hypothermia, but they came as close to death as anyone I have ever known.

When Paul came over to share with me what had happened at their camp I said, “Praise the Lord.” Something like this had to happen, and it was God's blessing for him. Life is not all one way. There are as many defeats as there are victories. Negatives are an indispensable part of the Christian life. It is extremely dangerous for young believers when everything turns to gold. There is something terribly heady about success. Arrogance and self-confidence are not winsome characteristics of a Christian. An earnest brother in a Bible school once asked me what was a good therapy for pride. I simply replied, “A great deal of failure”.

AB Simpson expressed as beautifully as I have ever read when he wrote that classic hymn. Everlasting Arms

Underneath us, oh how easy

We have not to mount on high,

But to sink into His fullness

And in trustful weakness lie.

And we find or humbling failures

Saves us from the strength that harms.

We may fail, but underneath us

Are the Everlasting Arms

Oh thank God for those failures! They are God's merciful means for our salvation. Strength and success are dangerous. Failure is a wonderful cure to save us from the strength that harms.

Paul has made some significant advance since that camp. One lesson he learned is that spirituality is not a formula. This a common deadly disease. We do something and get a certain result. We think we have it figured out. Just do it that way and we can get the same result each time. Lots of luck.

Unfortunately this error goes clear to the top. We can excuse young believers to think that spirituality can be reduced to a formula, but some of the most advanced Christians make this mistake. I saw Joe Carroll do it. Neil Anderson's book, Bondage Breaker, is the best book I have ever read on deliverance. But Anderson shot himself in the foot when he added the appendix with the 1 - 10 formula for dealing with demonics. Hopefully, Paul will learn that just because the Holy Spirit did something one time in a certain way, that does not guarantee that he can always get the same result every time.

Secondly, Paul is a much more mature believer after this disastrous camp. It has calmed him down considerably. I have been amazed how he had such outstanding success for such a long time. It seemed he had a magic bat, and every time he swung it the ball went over the fence. While the rest of us were swinging our bats only to miss the ball much of the time. We wondered why he was in such a different league. Now he has joined the rest of us who are not always so successful.

But in a more significant way I believe the Lord has honored Paul in moving him to a higher level. He was over last night going out of his mind. Sickness has plagued him. He had been sick for two weeks but now several of the children are quite sick. Some of the parents have come to take their children home until they recover. The fallout from the one couple who so distinguished themselves by alienating the Christians in the village is still rumbling. Almost unprecedentedly, one of the village heads came to visit him saying that they never wanted that couple back in their village. The Karen are extremely hospitable people and that is almost unprecedented.

The near death experience of Mathew and Benjua has rattled Paulo to the core of his being. The best thing that can be said about it is that it is miraculous that they survived. Paul's daughter, in the states, is a nurse and said that they had crossed the medical line where death was almost certain. Paul feels terribly responsible that he allowed such a dangerous situation to develop, and is equally grateful to the Lord for His mercy is saving those two young folks.

In retrospect Paul has searched his heart what he would do if they had died. Heroically, he came to the conclusion that he would just keep on serving the Lord even is such a disaster fell on him. As I sign of his maturity, he said a year ago he couldn't have handled it. He said a year ago he would have packed up, closed the shop, and turned back from serving the Lord. Last night, as we discussed the terrible sufferings and disasters that many great missionaries have swum through, he suggested he couldn't imagine following their path. He mentioned reading the life of Adoniram Judson of Burma, and all he endured. Paul said he had to put the book down. He couldn't read about it.

Many of God's greatest saints have suffered the most severely. Jesus led the way in suffering more than any of us can imagine. And He warned that many of those who would follow Him would drink from the same cup. All but one disciple were martyred. The 2,000 year Christian history has been soaked in blood. Because we live in an unusual bubble of security and affluence, Christians in America think that this is the norm. But the historical big picture is much different. And many of those who have been in the forefront of the fight have suffered the most. Sickness, the loss of children, extreme privation, have been common. But it is through these testimonies that God has been glorified the most.

The question may be asked, which glorified God the most – Robert Schuller's Crystal Cathedral with a parking full of Mercedes Benz and Cadillacs; or Adoniram Judson hanging inverted in a Burmese prison? Which one glorified God the most, Joel Olsteen and his feel good message to 50,000 in Dallas; or the courageous young Russian soldier, Vanya, who was tortured to death for his faith in Russia? We are so conditioned to measuring success by numbers and $ that we are offended by affliction and sorrow. But in God's Inverted Kingdom His glory is revealed in suffering. Jesus won the battle for eternity and glorified God the most when He was crucified and killed on that Cross.

The problem is that God can find so few people that He can trust with problems, that His glory is greatly restricted. The Bible tells us clearly that God will not allow us to be tempted (tested) above that which we are able (1 Cor. 10:13). The Lord, with great consideration, measures out our trials; and won't over load us. Paul told me that he never could have handled the wagon load of problems he had last week a year ago. I told him, “Congratulation, God has honored you. He knows that you can be trusted with some hard blows. He knows there are very few that can bear the heavy ones.”

Paul has had an amazing run of tremendous miracles for over ten months. But this past week – with all its problems – has easily been the most profitable, and the time when he has made his finest advance.

Praise the Lord,

bill

Street Sweeper

14 October 2012

Dear Phyllis,

You have no idea what a major figure you are in my life. There is nothing in life that I enjoy more than preaching, but my life has been reduced to a congregation of one. You are virtually the only outlet that I have. Pastor Kichikun has been gracious in sharing his pulpit with me one Sunday a month. But three weeks ago I told him that I was no longer qualified to stand before the people in church and share the Word of God. This is because of my disqualification in my domestic life. When Rosemary made her fatal decision, I said, “This is the end for me.” One the basis of the pastoral epistles, I was no longer qualified to be a deacon, elder, or leader in a church. Because of that, I went into a self-imposed recluse for four years declining to share the Word even in a home meeting. But then in Russia, I was confronted with the decision of giving the Gospel to thousands who had been in 70 years of darkness under communism, or remain silent. I felt simply to be a witness of the salvation of Christ demanded that I step up to share that truth. Since then I have not declined any request to speak publicly. But three weeks ago a relatively minor incident caused me to reexamine my qualification to speak in church, and told Kichikun to take me off the preaching roster.

The problem was Pammy. Basically she is good – but not perfect. That week she pulled a couple of stunts that I thought were dishonoring to the Lord. One was refusing to go to school with me to interpret because of illness. But two hours later she had a miracle healing when a friend showed up and asked her to go shopping. The second was when she was gone all day and got home at 9:00 o'clock at night. She did call twice to tell me where she was, and shouldn't be held too accountable as she was with another lady in the other lady's car. She got struck until that woman was ready to go home. I felt she should have gotten out of the car and taken a taxi home.

Perhaps a more serious disqualification is my warm temper. I have a relatively short fuse and a considerable amount of explosives when they gets detonated. There is a rice field next to my shop, and no walls on my shop. When things go bad in the shop, occasionally there are various objects seen arcing though the air as I throw them out in the rice field. My dear friend Dave Moore has frequently spoken to me about self-control. He has reminded me that basically this is a decision whether or not I want the Lord to change me and fill me more with is Holy Spirit that I might have more self-control. This is one of the fruits of the Spirit,. And to be too hot headed is a proof that Jesus does not have full control of my life.

There I have a problem. This is a great mystery to me. Nor is it one that I alone struggle with. I would say that nearly all Christians have something in their lives that they would like to improve, but still come up short. I am not proud of my short temper, but it is something that still plagues me. Titus 1:7 tells us that “a bishop must not be self-willed or soon angry”. One brother told me, “You are not a bishop, so why worry about your temper?” But Kichikun has told me that the Thais – like the Japanese – are very sensitive about showing emotion like that. Exploding is a very poor testimony. I know that I am a poor example of Christ and feel that perhaps I should step down from a public ministry. This being true, I am reduced to a congregation of one that I write to each week.

This past week I had a very serious talk with the Lord about my son Dave. As you know, he has walked the wrong road for over 20 years. He is the biggest grief of my life. My question to Jesus was, “What happened to dedication?” He was dedicated to serve the Lord from before birth. We never had any other aspiration for him than he become a credit to Christ and be used to advance the Kingdom. If a child doesn't serve the Lord, what good are they? Why have children if that is only to be a disgrace to the Name of Christ, and increase the population of hell? We all know that not all PKs (preacher's kids) and MK's (missionary kid) turn out well. I have known several MKs that have been bums and crooks. I didn't want my boy to be one. Years ago they used to have a destruct button on rockets. If a large rocket went off course, they could destroy it before it went the wrong way and endanger American cities. I used to pray that if Dave ever veered from serving the Lord that the Lord would take him rather than leave him here to dishonor His Name. Dave went off course, and the Lord did not push the destruct button.

But a more serous question is what happened to dedication. If the Lord will not accept that which we dedicate to Him, why dedicate it? Cain offered a sacrifice to the Lord that was unacceptable. Okay. That is understandable. I have had people offer things to me that I didn't want. One time a man gave me a case of beer. That all went in the toilet. History is full of the stories of outstanding men of God who were dedicated to the Lord by godly mothers – Samuel, Hudson Taylor, John Wesley, etc. – and the Lord used them.

I am not discounting the possibility that the Lord may yet lay His hand on Dave, and he might become a Franklin Graham – who was a prodigal son and an embarrassment to his dad for 40 years. This, of course, is my prayer. But if the Lord does not do something like that, and Dave spends a lifetime as a dishonor to the Name of Christ; that can only mean that I dedicated a case of beer to the Lord that he refused to accept. If we dedicate infants to Christ only to see them become flag carriers for the devil, that means that dedication is meaningless.

Yes, I know the argument about free will. A parent can't make a decision for a child. John 1:13 tells us of three things that simply do not apply to those who are born sons of God – blood, the will of the flesh, and the will of man. The “blood” means ancestral salvation. God doesn't have any grandchildren. He only has direct children. No one is saved because mom and dad were. The will of the flesh means willing yourself into the Kingdom of God. You can will to be saved as hard as you like, but if God doesn't will it you ain't gonna be saved. Thirdly, I can't will somebody else into the Kingdom. If they don't want it, my will doesn't apply. Obviously this applies to children being saved.

I also know that child dedication is really not dedicating the child to the Lord, but the parents are dedicating themselves to raising that child the right way. It is parental dedication, not child dedication. But if there is no such thing as a real transaction with God of giving a child to the Lord and His accepting that child, then child dedication is pointless. I really don't want to believe that. Hudson Taylor's mother was serious when she prayed for her son to become a missionary. God obviously heard her prayer and wonderfully answered it.

This whole issue of dedication is a mystery to me. Perhaps I am wrong, but my idea of dedication is giving something to someone, and they accepting it. If that is true, then the object given is no longer the former owner's. It is the property of the one who accepts it. Why is it that the things we dedicate to the Lord so easily slip out of His hands? Paul firmly declared, “For I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day” (2 Tim. 1:12). Oh, I like that! But I am not falling asleep on that. I didn't dedicate myself to the Lord 55 years ago and left it at that. I plead with the Lord every morning to take me. Oh if only I could be more dedicated! DL Moody said, “The world has yet to see what God can do with a man who is totally dedicated to Him. By God's grace I want to be that man.” The Lord certainly used DL Moody. I have no false illusion that I will be a DL Moody. But if only I could only be the most dedicated man to wash the dishes for His servants, that would be my greatest honor.

There is no question that the greatest problem in the church, world wide, today is defective dedication. I detest that “sensei” mentality in Japan. Very clearly there are two categories of Christians in Japan – class A and class B. Class A Christians are the kesshinshas (dedicated) and Class B are the ones who aren't. To be a kesshinsha you have to go to Bible school, and then you become a sensei. The rank and file of the rest are the lower ones in the pews. Where, pray tell, in the Bible does it say that if I sit in the pew I am exempted from being as dedicated as the man standing in the pulpit? I believe that the pew should be every bit as dedicated as the pulpit. And I often wonder about the sensei standing in the pulpit – what is he dedicated to? To serving the Lord or dedicated to promoting his own agenda?

I looked around church this morning and wondered how dedicated everyone was. If they are not dedicated to the Lord, why not? My goodness, if we considered salvation as optional and unimportant as dedication, I wonder who would be saved? As I looked at those folks this morning I thought of the wedding vow. Basically that is what salvation is – being married to Jesus. When a couple stand in the front of a church to exchange wedding vows, they are dedicating themselves to giving up their lives and living henceforth for the sake of the other. If this is not the wedding vow, then the wedding is a mockery. Everyone wants the other partner to fulfill their vow but few people have any intention of doing what they promised. I fear salvation is greatly like that. We want Jesus to keep His side of the bargain, but have little expectation of keeping our word.

The story was told, at the Keswick Conference in England many years ago, of a train in Scotland. There was a bridge that the train went over that was supposed to have a lucky river. Everyday, when the train went over that bridge, all the passengers would open the windows and threw a coin in the river. There was a man who commuted daily over that bridge and he couldn't afford to throw a coin in every day. So he took a small coin, drilled a hole in it, and tied it to a string. When the train went over the bridge and everyone threw in their coins, he would take out his coin, and toss it out the window with the crowd. Then he would wind up the string and pull it back in. One day he threw his coin out the window, but the string broke. The speaker said, “Many of you folks are like that man in Scotland. You come to these conferences, and go forward to make your dedication to the Lord. But then you go back home and pull your coin back to put it in your pocket. Praise God for the day when the sting breaks.”

N o doubt that is exactly what is wrong with a lot of dedication. Statics show that, of the thousands who go forward to dedicated themselves to be a missionary at Urbana type missionary conferences, only a very small percentage ever make it to the field. There is noting wrong with the Lord changing the direction of the path for many who dedicate themselves to a certain field. But whether we go or stay, our dedication should be absolute.

Lev. 21:17-21 spells out the disqualifying features of any of the seed of Aaron who was to be dedicated to the Lord. The blind and anyone with a blemish could not be dedicated to the Lord as a priest. As I have read that, I have thought to myself, “Well, that leaves me out.” When I consider the terrible dings and blemishes on me, I feel it is insulting to offer myself to Jesus for His service. Let the Lord lay His hand on those who are more qualified, and I am grateful if I can only have a broom to sweep the barn for the Lord.

I love to preach. God has given me a message that burns in my heart. But at this point it looks like I have a congregation of one when I write to you each week, Phyllis. It is a privilege to be a street sweeper for Jesus. Lets do it to the best of our ability that he might be glorified.

bill

CRASH!!!!!!!!

7 October 2012

Dear Phyllis,

Well, I certainly can't say nothing happened this past week. The biggest event of the week was a crash. It was category B accident – A being hospitalization. But it was the worse bike accident I have ever had in 50 years on two wheels. Pammy and I were riding home on her Honda after our daily session speaking at Annie's school. We were riding along a road about 1.5 km from home following a truck who was going very slowly. After going through a flashing light intersection, where nearly everyone was stopped, I managed to pass that truck, and saw another one slightly ahead going equally slowly. There was a motor bike following that truck, and I saw a good chance to get by both. I thought there was a fair possibility that the bike might have the same idea I had to pass the truck and gave extra room to allow for that possibility. I was still going fairly slowly – probably about 30 kph – when suddenly the bike turned in front of me to pull into a driveway. It was instantaneous. There was nothing I could do.

I hit him more or less broadside. I really don't know what happened to the other bike but I was desperately trying to turn to avoid him and went over sideways. I later was surprised that I didn't go over the handle bar, but I do remember still holding on the handle grips when we finally skidded to halt in the grass at the side of the road. Most of the action was on my right arm. Amazingly I felt no pain, but I knew I had some serious abrasion on my arm. My head was also down on the pavement and I thought I probably had a bloody mess over my right eye. When we stopped, my first conscious thought was, “Praise the Lord, there is nothing seriously broken”. I kept saying, “I'm okay, I'm okay” but I was having trouble getting out from under the Honda that was more or less on my leg. Somehow I did get extricated and got on my feet to survey the damage.

The most fortunate thing was that Pammy was behind me, and my body shielded her from the initial impact. And then she wound up on top of me riding on me like a sled. She got by totally unscathed.

The other driver turned to to be a 30 year old boy. He seemed to be alright, but did have a slight ding on his arm. I helped him pick his bike up and got it off the street.

My greatest concern was to keep this as low keyed as possible. I have a Thai drivers license, but that expired two years ago. I really didn't want a police investigation where I didn't have a legal drivers license, and we all were without helmets. There was nothing good that could come out of a police investigation. Regardless of whose fault it was, we must accept that the falang (foreigner) is always wrong in this country. If I had been sitting in a parking lot, and someone ran into me, that would still be my responsibility. I desperately wanted to pick up our respective motor bikes, give the boy our name and phone number – and get his – and get out of there.

Pammy was not of that mentality. In her mind we were in the proper place, and he was wrong in turning in front of us. Of course, he must take full responsibility and pay us for the damage to our bike. Oddly enough, he didn't see it that way. He thought he was right and we were wrong in hitting him. Oh my goodness, did we have a problem! I started out trying to use Pammy as an interpreter to arbitrate the dispute. But she was not interested in translating what I was trying to say. On the contrary she was intensely interested in establishing her point that we were right and he was wrong. Imagination might suggest the scene that developed. I could see that we were headed for trouble – BIG TIME. I kept pleading, “Please be quiet.” That didn't work. I escalated my vocabulary trying to calm her down and defuse an extremely volatile situation. By that time at least ten people from the neighborhood were gathered, and it was a unanimous voice against Pammy. Finally I was on the side of the neighbors arguing with Pammy trying to get her out of there. Salvation came when she got so angry that she stomped out walking home.

I was delighted to see her out of the equation, but she had generated a nuclear scene of some fiercely angry people. I turned to one man who seemed to be a spokesman and was greatly relieved that he spoke good English. By this time the problem wasn't the accident, but he wanted a pint of her blood. He furiously said, “Where is that woman going? Get her back here! I'm calling the police!” I pleaded, “Please don't call the police. That won't help anything.” And I pleaded, “I apologize for my wife, but it won 't make you feel any better by having a hotter argument with her.” Praise God, I was able to cool him down slightly, but he was still fired up over dealing with such wicked people. With great reluctance I was finally able to convince him that he was talking to a man that was reasonable. I asked him, “What can I do to make this right and get this settled?” To my amazement he came up with a figure of only 2,000 baht ($65). That was a bargain. I apologized that I didn't have any money on me at the moment, but if he would let me go home I would get the money and give it to him right away. No soap. He didn't trust me. Finally, there was an older man that he suggested take me home and leave my bike there. No problem with that. I knew Pammy was so angry there was no way I could talk her into giving me 2,000 baht to settle this dispute, and decided to see my friend Dave Moore. Dave gave me 2,000 baht which I gave to the other man. By that time the adrenaline had dissipated considerably. I profusely apologized for the big problem we had caused and was able to shake hands amicably with everyone involved.

As I was getting ready to leave, suddenly I realized I didn't have my glasses on. I looked for them in the grass where we stopped and saw them. But the last part of my travel on the pavement was on my face and I had irreplaceably scratched the lens and bent the ear stem at right angle. When I picked them up they looked so funny I started laughing. The crowd of the neighbors standing there saw me laughing and they started laughing. Then we all were having a hearty laugh together. How I praised God I got out of that so cheaply; and it was wonderful to be back on the bike with a marvelous spirit of good cheer with everyone who had been there for the past 30 minutes.

In a situation like that it is not a matter of who is right and who is wrong. I knew if the police came, it is a given that I was wrong, and I would have spent the day in the police station for driving without a valid drivers license. And the testimony of Christ is far more important than winning an argument. Hopefully, I left them with the impression that I was a decent man.

We can fix the bike. It wasn't damaged that badly. But I was a mess. Blood was streaming down my arm and head. Everyone insisted, “You must go to the hospital”. But there was little that they could do that I couldn't do at home. Rather than going home I went to my friend Mike's house, and hoped they could fix me up. That was another wild scene. It was Bill against five friends demanding I must go to a doctor. I insisted, “Hang the doctor! Go to a pharmacy and get some bandages.”At last my friends went to buy some bandages and I went on home.

One of the worst disasters was that I had on my favorite shirt that Chet Ansley had given in Nebraska two years ago. That was shredded and soaked with blood.

Getting cleaned up wasn't much fun. There was a lot of sand and dirt in my wounds. We had a big time getting that out. I first had landed on my shoulder and there was a patch of missing skin the size of an egg. My forearm was the worse with four or five large places of missing skin. My head wasn't too bad, but there was a cut over my eye.

Apart from several major abrasions wounds I felt fine. I was able to put in a fairly normal day working the rest of that afternoon. But as time wore on, I was surprised how badly my body stiffened up. Where Pammy had landed on me, my chest felt like a slight cracked rib. Nothing serious, but it did make it difficult to lift some things. I had my forearm wrapped with gause and several band-aids on my hand. We were short of medical tape so I used electrical tape to hold on the gauseand bad-aids. That worked pretty good but there was no way I could stop the oozing fluid and blood from the patches. Consequently, that night, I put on an old ragged long sleeve shirt and slept in my chaise lounge chair outside. I didn't want to get blood all over the sheets. I feel pretty good today and the wounds are healing nicely.

The theological question arises, why did the Lord let this happen? I have had innumerable times when the Lord has saved me by millimeters from serious accidents. Given the same scenario that I had Friday, I would do the same thing. Regardless of who is right or wrong, reality is, that there is always danger on roads and motor bikes. I count heavily on the mercy of God to keep me safe. Accidents do not alter Rom 8:28 and I firmly believe that Jesus will vindicate Himself even in the face of my misfortune. We can always thank God that things weren't worse. Pammy got by unscathed. The other boy was not seriously injured. The only thing I lost was skin, shirt, and my glasses. But that means nothing in eternity. In a week I will be fine.

On the positive side, we have been having some very good times every day over at the school where Annie is in kindergarten. The directors (man and wife) are desperately interested in salvation. Pammy is doing an outstanding job every morning teaching them from the Bible for one to two hours. I have been asking the Lord for a Bible study in our home with 12 Christ-seeking souls. We had our first start Friday night with Singha and Lek. At this point it is difficult to imagine them not being saved soon. It would be easy to pray with them for salvation any time. But I want their transaction with Jesus to be deep and personal. When they showed up Friday night I asked them what they wanted to study. Singha nervously said, “The judgment of God.” Pammy has been dealing with them from Genesis 1-6. We talked about the Flood Friday night and the next final judgment when God destroys the world by fire. They see that very clearly. They both have been to church and hopefully will be regular church goers.

That would be a major accomplishment if we could see this couple saved and turn that kindergarten into a Christian school where Jesus is presented to all the children and their parents. And it would be a wonderful thing if the boy I hit on the bike Friday, and all the mad folks in that neighborhood, got saved. It only cost us a little money and some small patched of skin; but Jesus paid for their souls with His Blood. If He can gain the reward of His sufferings through our minor inconvenience that would make everything more than worth while.

Thank you again for the joy of your fellowship.

Lord willing, see you next week,

bill

PS: Yesterday, I remembered that I had lost my good cowboy hat that Chet gave me. That is the most precious thing I own, and I had more or less given that up as gone. I just got back from going to the accident scene with Pastor Kichikun. Miraculously we found the hat in the weeds where we stopped. Kichikun had a marvelous time talking with the people next door who helped us look for it. I can easily see good coming out of that relationship.