Bazaar Lows

26 January 2014

Dear Phyllis,

In writing to a friend, Samuel Rutherford wrote, “Ye know that your summers will have clouds and your rose will have a prickly thorn beside it. Christ in heaven is unmixed sweetness and honey. Here we have Him with a thorny and rough cross; yet I know no tree that beareth sweeter fruit than Christ's Cross.” It would be nice if our summers were never darkened by black clouds, but I have found that the path to heaven has been marked by some very unpleasant experiences. Last week was one.

I am not crazy. I am not demonized. I am not stupid. But I am a poor man who has had a lot of severe emotional ups and downs. Perhaps some of that can be attributed to DNA. I happen to be a person who has been wired together to run on unusually high voltage. By nature my highs and lows are more extreme than the average. And that means that my lows can be very bazaar.

Being tripartite creatures, we live in all three spheres of body, soul, and spirit. I have found that my problems exist in all three areas. Rosemary was wise in noticing that I get a severe personality change with fatigue. Sometimes I would get extremely cranky and she would quietly remark, “You are tired.” That would help me recognize my bad crankiness and and calm down until I could get some rest. There are a lot of problems that are purely psychological. These exist in the realm of the soul. Misunderstandings, imaginary fears, and things that exist in our minds are soulish and can be fixed by counseling or education. And occasionally I have experienced severe depression that obviously were spiritual. There have been times I have come out of very deep depression in minutes, so much so, that people watching me thought it is all an act that I was putting on.

I have very little trouble with fear or anxiety, but one time, when I was back in Japan, I got hit with the worst anxiety attack I ever had. I was staying in my old room at NLL, but was panic stricken to flee. It was awful. The next morning I left everything and took off for the Kansai. When I got to Ikoma, I was fine and had no trouble for five days. But as I considered returning to NLL, I felt very uneasy. Early in the morning that I was to go back, the Holy Spirit spoke to me saying that the problem was that the devil had established a stronghold in my heart. I have no idea what that was other than that was the word the Holy Spirit used. When I went downstairs for breakfast, Miyuki Hirota told me that Neil had called and wanted to see me. When I went over to Japan Mission, Neil started to counsel me using Bible verses. I said, “Neil, you are wrong. I know the problem, but I don't know how to deal with it. The devil has erected a strong hold in my heart that must be torn down.” (2 Cor. 10:4). We began to pray. You never heard anything like it. Neil prayed like a mother losing a dying child. When we finished, I knew the Lord had heard that prayer and that strong hold was G-O-N-E. I went back to NLL with no problem at all.

One time I was horribly depressed for several days. It was so bad I virtually pulled the plug on living. I gave up shaving, brushing my teeth, and just existed like a zombie. At that time I was sitting in our ofuro (Japanese bath) bathing. I feel terrible when I don't shave. It had been nearly a week, and I decided to shave. I got lathered up, and then a very strange thought came to me. I said, “No, I am going to ride this horse as far as I can.” (I will to stay depressed.) And washed the lather off my face. Then the Holy Spirit spoke to me in a very clear way. He said, “You can't save yourself, but you have made a decision to follow the path of the devil.” I didn't want that. Whatever step I took I wanted it to be for Jesus, and I knew that my volitional choice to stay depressed was a vote for the devil. Simply because I didn't want to follow him, I lathered up again and shaved. Miraculously, I was instantly delivered and came out of deep depression.

I am sure it is common for all humanity to want to excel. I suspect that all young girls want to be the prettiest girl in school, all academics want to be the smartest person in the room, and all jocks want to be the fastest man on the field, or the strongest man on the team. When I was flying I wanted to be the best pilot in the Air Force. I have always wanted to be the best carpenter. And from the moment I became a Christian I have had a desire to be an outstanding follower of Christ. I am sure it is the Holy Spirit, but from the moment Jesus came into my heart, I have had an intense goal to live for Jesus. With God as my witness, I believe I can honestly say there is nothing that burns in my heart more intensely than Christ be honored through my life. I have often been encouraged by Paul's remark, “According to my earnest expectation and my hope that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life or by death” (Ph. 1:20). But 57 years later I hang my head in shame at the the tragic way I have dishonored the Lord by stupid and childish behavior. The most charitable grade any honest observer could give me would be a C; and less charitable critics might give me a C – or a D as a Christian. Last week was one of those bad days.

Pammy and I had had a disagreement the night before. I didn't argue, but just went silent. The next morning was bad. I tried to pray and get something from the Word to lift my soul, but the shy was black. I told the Lord I had had the course, and just couldn't go on another step. It was a lose-lose situation. There was nothing positive on the board. Suicide is not an option, but going on with life seemed out of the question also. As I weighed the options the only thing I could come up with was to walk to Burma and hope that something would happen along the way. This sounds dangerously psychotic, but the options were very black and white in my mind. Finally I decided, “Why not? Let's do it.”

It was 7:00 AM. I left everything as is, and didn't even take my wallet. I always wear sandals, but because I was going to walk to Burma I knew I needed shoes; so I put on my cowboy boots. I felt exactly like the little 5 year old boy who got mad at his mother and decided to leave home. He took his little red wagon, and started down the street. But by the time he walked one block he got hungry and decided to go home for supper. The only difference between that little boy and his red wagon and me was 73 years. I know at 78 you are suppose to be more mature, but I honestly couldn't see anything else on the board to do. Immaturity is no sign of grace. But there is something to say for what Jesus told us that unless we become as little children we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven (Mt. 18:3). Certainly there is some merit in childlike simplicity and innocence. I walked 5 km towards town to the fist red light, and then crossed the road to head west towards Burma. On the other side of the road there was a very large construction site with a dozen dump trucks bringing in dirt, and a large bull dozer. I love heavy equipment, and have had some of my best moments in life driving bull dozers. As I stood there for 30 minutes watching that construction site, my head began to clear up, and my mental attitude changed. Exercise is a very good therapy for depression, and walking was the best thing I could have done. With my mind improving, I decided to take my little red wagon and return home.

When I got there Pammy was standing outside talking to Pastor Kichjikun and the neighbor lady. Everyone cheerfully greeted me, but I was silent. I hadn't had breakfast, so first I got something to eat. Then I changed my clothes to go to work at Gary's. I went outside to start my motor bike. I honestly didn't have it in my mind, but when I cranked the engine, something inside me snapped. Suddenly I twisted the gas on the handle grip and revved the engine up to max RPM of 8,000. I was wild out of my mind with rage. What happened after that I honestly can't recall. Probably the RPM hadn't cooled off enough, or in my rage I max it out again, but when I kicked it into gear, the bike exploded. I never had anything like that in my life. It was exactly like being in a rodeo on a bucking bronco. The front end flew up three feet and the bike shot forward. I was desperately trying to control the bike and come off on the gas, but my grip was frozen in max gas. Pammy said I glanced off some stone benches that she says saved my life. The bike was going crazy in four directions at the same time. It shot forward about 10 meters (30 feet) and crashed. When the bike went down I splatter on the pavement hard. That saved me. When I hit the ground hard I was healed. The rage was gone and I was subdued in my right mind. Kichikun was stunned, and stepped forward to pick me up. “Are you okay?” “Yes, I am fine.” Nothing was broken except several bent parts on the bike a some skin off my left hand. I picked the bike up, and gently started it again. This time I carefully put it in gear and went to work. My body was pretty stiff for a couple of days, and my hands have healed up.

Dave Moore asked, “Did you learn anything from that experience?” The answer is “No”. Given the same situation I probably would do the same thing, except I hope I would be more careful on my bike. But “walking to Burma” was the thing that cleared up my mind.

Why do I tell such an embarrassing story? I want to be honest and perhaps help someone who might be having mental problems. Many people have told me over the years, “You should go to a psychiatrist.” No thank you. I don't need a shrink. Psychology is the most unscientific academy that there is. They are like children playing with numbers that can't put 2 and 2 together and yet profess to be mathematicians. They are like someone looking at a weather vane swinging back and forth and then try to determine magnetic north. The most honest psychiatrist I ever talked to was Bruce Naramore. Bruce is the head of Rosemead and probably the premier Christian psychiatrist in America today. I had the privilege of spending two hours with him one morning. After talking to him for 30 minutes he suggested, “Let me tell you what kind of a person you are.” After he described who he thought I was, he asked, “How close am I?” “Pretty good. Basically you are right.” Then he told me something that was surprising to come from a psychologist. He said, “You are a pretty tough nut to crack. You would be wasting your time going to most psychologist. There are very few who could match you.”

To a greater or lesser degree all of us suffer problems. Some handle it better than others. I am unfortunate in that I must deal with unusually high voltage. This has produced some seriously weird behavior. I am fortunate that no one has ever institutionalized me. There have been times when they might have been justified if they had, but I know what is going on inside of me. I don't need a shrink or medication.

Perhaps the greatest thing that came out of my seizure last week was to prove again the reality of Christ's salvation. Wednesday morning, when I was desperately trying to get out of a deep hole, I cried, “Lord Jesus, You promised whosoever calls on the Name of the Lord shall be saved. I need to be saved and I am calling on You for that salvation right now. Please save me.” Two hours later I was laying on the pavement saved. It is a fact that Jesus is a wonderful, faithful, good shepherd that takes good care of even the most erratic sheep. The fact that I am in my right mind today enjoying life is a marvelous proof of His salvation. No one has agreed with me that it was the will of God for me to “walk to Burma”, but that exercise was exactly what I needed at that time. I don't recommend it to anyone who is struggling with anger management, but crashing a motor bike was an effective cure for rage. When I was in deep water where my feet couldn't touch the bottom, Jesus kept His hand under my chin.

Thank You, Lord, for Your abiding faithfulness,

                                                                               bill

New Movement, Stale Smell

19 January 2014

Dear Phyllis,

The other day Paul and my friend, Ed Pew, were talking to me about the Emerging Church. This was a new term for me. What they were saying was so far off the wall it was hard for me to believe it. Ed had a DVD that he loaned me, and I checked it out on You Tube, and was surprised to discover how expansive this movement is.

There have always been civil wars going on in the Body of Christ. In what the Lord has shared with us concerning the Seven Churches in Rev. 2 and 3, we see serious problems in five of the seven churches. For years I struggled with these seven churches as I could not understand how, or why, Jesus would stand in the midst of them. One time I told the Lord He was dead wrong and should get out. He shouldn't associate Himself with some of those really bad churches. But then the Lord showed me the significance of the expression “Overcomer”. In all seven churches He uses that word saying, “To him that overcomes”. Then I saw that what He was talking about was seven religious environments that would be prevalent during the church period. Just as there were good things and bad things during the history of Israel in the OT, there would be good things and bad things during the church period. Israel was still God's people even during the times of some really horrible kings; and the church is still the Body of Christ even during some periods of terrible corruption. But the real church, Body of Christ, is not those corrupt false Christians, but the Overcomers during that period.

There have always been false prophets and heretics. They are to be called out and denounced. But there have always been civil wars among genuine believers over differing issues. Luther ands Zwingli persecuted the Anabaptists. That is hard to understand until we realize how far even genuine believers will fight for their personal position on controversial issues. There have been wars over baptism. This was the issue with the Anabaptists. The fight over Armenianism and Calvinism has been going on for centuries and still rages today. It is impossible to be too definitive here, as both sides have an abundance of scripture to bolster their position.

But black and white issues are different. To me, the water shed here is the Word of God. The first thing that ever came out of the mouth of the devil was, “Hath God said?” He questioned the word of God. And he hasn't changed his play book to this day. Here is where I will part company with anyone who says he is a Christian and yet is not clear on the authority and infallibility of the Bible. The Bible is the Holy Scripture and that stands unchallenged as God's Word to man. To any man who questions that, that man is my enemy.

In the 1950s and 60s the hottest war among Christians was over the term New Evangelicalism. This was a term coined by Harold Ockenga in his approach to reach out to liberals. He felt the best way to win liberals was to join them. This was the war where Billy Graham was the bone at a dog fight. He insisted that liberals be included in any platform where he was having a crusade. He hailed men who were clearly heretics and anti-Christ as great men of God. He embraced the Catholics, and called the Pope the greatest spiritual reformer of the 20^th century. He told Robert Schuller that he felt many who had never heard the name of Christ who were Muslims, Hindu, or Buddhist would be in heaven because “they loved God”. All of this is clearly recorded on You Tube.

Ecumenicalism is the child of the devil, and has been around for millenniums. During the time of Ezra and Nehemiah the enemy of the people of God tried to get in on the act by saying, “Let us build with you; for we seek your God” (Ezra 4:2). The Bible is very clear on that issue, and leaves no room for argument. This was a blatant move of the devil to get in on ground floor with God's people. And the play book hasn't changed to this day. The first thing God ever did was to separate light from darkness; and the devil has been trying to blur the two ever since. In the days of Moses the Lord said to Pharaoh, “I will put a division between My people and thy people” (Ex. 8:23). The Lord was adamant that there was to be no compromise with Israel and the inhabitants of Canaan land. The hottest battle after the Babylonian captivity was the building of the wall (Neh. 2:17,19). In Ezekiel 40, when the Lord showed Ezekiel the new Temple, which clearly is the church, the first thing He showed him was the wall (Ez. 40:5). And in Revelation when we see the New Jerusalem, the first thing mentioned is the wall (Rev. 21:12). The devil hates walls, and this is the central fight to this day.

This Emerging Church is a new issue for me, but it has a very stale smell about it. We can be sympathetic with Billy Graham in his desire to win liberals for Christ. I am all for it. But I don't like the business of calling those who are clearly anti-Christ great men of God. I can be sympathetic with Andy Stanley in his desire to win generation X by being relevant. But I don't care for his lowering Christian culture to be relevant. I can understand why some Christians want to wear ear rings and have tattoos to win young people, but I don't care for their leading conservative young people into paganism and taking the church into the world. Apparently the Emerging Church is an old play under a new name. I was stunned to see Rick Warrens name listed among the key men in this new movement. I can understand his (their) desire to win souls for Christ, but deadly compromise is not the way to do it. Fumbling the ball is not the way to win a game.

I am just beginning to learn a little of what is going on. What I have seen so far is so weird that I am having a hard time taking it in. What I have seen is that it seems this new movement is extremely broad and many good conservative churches are moving in that direction. It is the same old game of moving left to win those on the left. Some of this is very innocuous. What is wrong with contemporary music? There is the usual criticism of dead religion. Much of this is well justified, but then some of the extreme that is brought forward is not the right solution. One of the practices that has surprised me is a strong movement towards Muslims. Rick Warren has been invited and spoken at several Islamic conferences. I see nothing wrong with working to present Christ to them, but there also has been a movement to mix the Bible with the Quran. There are churches where the Quran is presented as being equal to the Holy Bible. I was surprised to discover a new term of Chrislam which is the merger of Christianity with Islam. I don't know how long this has been around, but it was new to me.

Just because something is found in Buddhism does not mean it is wrong, and Christians should never practice it. Buddhist practice fasts. Does that mean that no Christian should ever fast? Buddhist practice meditation. Does that mean that no Christian should ever meditate. David talks about “In His Law doth he meditate day and night.” (Ps. 1:2). Buddhists place a strong emphasis on keeping the body in subjection. Does that mean that Christians shouldn't keep their bodies under control? Buddhism believes in external revelation. Does that mean that we should bar the door to the Holy Spirit to reveal things to us? Just because various things are found in Buddhism or Eastern religion does not mean that they are fundamentally wrong. But there is a fine line between getting in contact with the spirit world orchestrated by the devil and communing with the Holy Spirit.

The lead prophet of the Emerging church seems to be Bran McLaren. Another name frequently mentioned is Rob Bell. If we look at their teaching closely, it is obvious that they are heavily into mysticism, and Eastern religion. This seems to be a new involvement of New Age. After struggling with dead Christianity, I can understand their excitement with their encounters with the spirit world. And they are leading thousands of seeking Christians into something that has substance. It is not surprising that this movement would be a mutation of Christianity.

There are two things that I see that are fundamentally wrong and dangerous. The first is the notable absence of Jesus. It is highly significant that Jesus is not the focal point of this new movement. There is great emphasis on the spirit world, but Jesus is not front and center. Anything that diminishes Jesus is out in my book. If the Jesus of the Bible and the incarnate Son of God is lifted up, loved, and obeyed, I am all for it. Anything that moves in the other direction is “no thank you”. There has been a war raging on ever since Lucifer decided that he would take the highest seat, and was cast down (Isa. 14:12-15). The Father has appointed that seat for His Son, and any movement that challenges the honor of the Son is of the devil.

The second thing that I see that sends up red flags is that obviously this is a new thrust at the old play book of ecumenicalism. The devil has been running this play for millenniums, but this is a new approach. The ecumenical movement 50 years ago was an attempt to get all Christian churches under one flag and one roof. This one is different. This is not just an attempt to get Christian churches together, but to get all religions together. New age is fundamentally Eastern religion. The Emerging church is embracing this and borrows from Buddhism and Hinduism very much. As I said before, there is this new term of Chrislam which is a merger of Christianity with Islam. That is one wing of it. But with its emphasis on mysticism and Eastern religion practice, the Emerging Church is an attempt to bring Christianity into unity with occult garbage as well.

It is universally accepted that the anti-Christ will be a charismatic world leader.. He will come to power by political means. But along with his administration there is also with him the false Prophet. It is universally accepted that this is the religious half to support the anti-Christ. This is why we are seeing the movement to bring all religions together. In Rev. 16:13 and 20:10 we see a unique picture of the devil's trinity all together in one verse – the dragon, the best and the false prophet.

There are a lot of things that are not clear yet but it does seem clear that there must be globalization. To get the power that the anti-Christ obviously has, there must be a coming together of all (most) nations. A blind man with one glass eye can see what is happening and where we are going in this regard. Obama is very clear that this is one of his main objectives. We are extremely close to seeing a one world currency. Obama is increasingly trying to use the UN to enact laws that he cannot push through congress. We are increasingly seeing the convergence of nations politically. And this great push of ecumenicalism is the devils program to unite religions. We aren't there yet, but it is astounding to see this merging within churches under the banner of the Emerging Church. And it is extremely difficult for me to see men like Rick Warren as being involved with this movement. Jesus told us that there would be terrific deception in the last days; so much so that – if it were possible – even the elect would be deceived (Mt. 24:24).

What will happen in 2014? Who knows, but things are moving at a tremendous pace, and surly much that the Bible has warned us about is right at the door. From earths perspective this is an extremely dark picture. But from heavens view these are hallelujah days; for the return of Christ and His reign on this planet are extremely near. It is hold-your-hat-Hannah and a great time to be wide out for Jesus.

Ganbarimasho (let's give it our best shot),

                                                               bill

   

Mino Mission and Betty Whewell

12 January 2014

Dear Phyllis,

The other day I was talking to Dave Moore about Mino Mission stories, and remarked someone should write a book about that. As I thought about my remark, I decided that I am the one who should write the book. To do some research, I looked up Mino Mission on Google, and was shocked that all they had listed was written by Bill Cook. I was stunned to discover a PB letter that I wrote 4 years ago. That was exactly what I was going to write this week. If you want to read that letter you can find it by typing in www.billcookpbletter.blogspot.com. That letter that I wrote in 2010 was excellent, but that will probably be as close to a book that will ever be written.

I have said that most Christian biographies are not honest. What they say is true, but they do not mention the complete picture. Every person, and every organization, has two sides – the good side and the bad side. It is rare that you see both sides in a book. It is not encouraging to tell the down side, and so, in most cases, we only tell the good stuff. But in life we all must endure the dark side of any person we work with. For new Christians this can be very confusing. In my early years, my admiration for Joe Carroll boarded on worship. I thought he was absolute flawless. Along with being worlds greatest preacher, I intensely felt he was the greatest Christian I had ever met. Years later I saw all the warts that brought him down to sit with the rest of us as one having serious blind-spots.

Betty Whewell was a character. She was Mino Mission. But she was the most controversial person I ever met. Unfortunately, in my book of recollection, most of the pages are really bad stories. The reason I am sharing some of these stories is to illustrate the fact that God uses very imperfect people. In our minds, we feel that the most outstanding vessels in God's hands are the most flawless. There may be a few Daniels and Josephs of whom the scripture has nothing negative to say, but David's stunt of murdering a very loyal man to cover his own dalliance with adultery is one of the darkest moments in the Bible. He was still mightily used and a man after God's own heart (Act 13:22).

Betty Whewell was – on a scale of 1 to 10 – about a 12 as an extremist. Her good points distinguished her as one of the greatest missionaries in Japan, and her bad points were equally shocking.

When I was associated with the Mino Mission, in the early 1960s, I felt their churches were the finest in Japan. The church in Yokkaichi was the largest and the best church in Mie-ken (prefecture). And I don't know where you could find its equivalent in all the country. The basic reason for its high quality was Betty's extremism. You talk about something Bible centered; man howdy, you couldn't get more Bible centered than that church was. The thing that made it so unusual is that, to be a Mino Mission believer, you had to say goodbye to your nationality – or even your citizenship in this planet – and become a citizen of a new country – heaven. The Bible talks about dying to self and the things of this world – that was it. I have never been in a fellowship where that was more genuine. Every person in that church had died to self, and lived exclusively for the Lord. There was no self-interest, no personal rights, and nothing else on the board except to live for Jesus. They were all under rigid authority. There was a tyrant at the helm who snapped the whip, and everyone did exactly as told.

Joe Carroll used to tell of his introduction. When he first came to Japan in 1954 the first place his ship docked was in Yokkaichi. Somehow, Betty had heard of him, and sent a delegation to the port to Shanghai him. As the ship was going to be in port for a few days, he dutifully accepted the invitation to go to the mission for some special meetings. He had never heard of Mino Mission, and was greatly impressed to find this outstanding group of Christian with their strong mission leader. He was up on the platform preaching and Betty was sitting beside him at her table interpreting for him. After preaching the Gospel, he gave and invitation for salvation, and no one came forward. When there was no response, Betty stood up and walked back in the crowd. She laid hands on the quiet fellow sitting the third on the right and ordered, “You have been here long enough. You get up there and get saved!” Then she walked on ordering various other ones to go forward. Joe was stunned. He stood there wondering, “Who does that woman think she is – the Holy Spirit? Who is she to dictate who, when, or where someone gets saved?” But to Joe's utter astonishment, the ones who dutifully went forward got saved and stuck. As Jesus was the incarnate Christ in the flesh, Betty Whewell was virtually the incarnate Holy Spirit in the flesh. She was the physical representation of the Holy Spirit. But the strange thing was, the flesh the Holy Spirit was in, was Betty Whewell's flesh. There was zero tolerance for anyone one else's flesh in that place, but her flesh was intensely prominent.

That zero tolerance for personal ambition produced some fantastic Christians. They had given up everything, and Jesus was their life. He was all they lived for. They had a complete break with Japanese culture. The slightest ting of idolatry was totally absent. They were uncompromising to the extreme. Buying ANYTHING on Sunday was strictly forbidden. One morning a mother was bringing a five year old son to church who threw a fit going past a candy store. The wicked mother stopped to buy 5 yen worth of candy to calm the kid down. When she got to church, and it was known she had just bought that candy, there was an uproar like you would not believe. She had to tearfully repent, and stand before the entire church to confess her sin. That was the worst incident of church discipline of dealing with gross sin that month. One Sunday I picked up the news paper laying on the table, and Betty snapped, “Bill, you put that down! We don't read the news paper on Sunday. The only thing we read is the Bible. I don't want any Christian seeing you looking at it.” “Yes, ma'am”

Fraternization between male and female was unthinkable. Men sat on one side of the church and women sat on the other. Husbands and wives were not allowed to sit together. One time there was a funeral where the church was filled. The lady's side was packed and some women were sitting on the men's side. I was sitting on a bench by myself listening to the message when a lady came in and sat on the other end of the bench. I didn't notice her. Betty stood up and sternly told me, “Bill, you get up and move. I don't want you sitting with that lady.” “Yes, ma'am.” One year at the mission conference, the speaker wanted to sing a special, and asked me to interpret, so he could speak with the organist. That noon Betty learned that I had interpreted for the speaker, and burned my ears. I protested saying, “I only interpreted for him in a crowd of 120 people.” “Bill Cook, I told you never to speak with those girls!!!” “Yes, ma'am.”

The only thing permitted in anyone's life was the Bible and prayer. Oh my goodness did those believers know the Bible! One year an American pastor was the speaker at the annual conference. Every time he would mention a Bible verse Betty would have the entire congregation quote that verse from memory. There wasn't another church on this planet that knew the Bible as well as Mino Mission Christians.

Recreation was street preaching. If a person was saved, it was assumed you had to go to street meetings and give your testimony. Mino Mission Christians didn't know that there were Christians in Japan who didn't go to street meetings. The only time we didn't have a street meeting was when it was raining; and then you did hospital evangelism. I folded tracts, and knew from personal count, that in one years there were 250,000 tracts passed out. You can't do dendo (evangelism) more intensely than Mino Mission.

The spiritual atmosphere was terrific. You can't get more intense, pure, believers than they had at Mino Mission. Jesus was held up as high as you could get Him. Every one in that church was totally sold out to Christ. There simply was no middle ground. That was the only place I have ever been where I felt sorry for the devil. He took lumps there that would make him long for hell. I often said there was no place where my spirit was more blessed and my flesh was more challenged. Being around Betty was maddening. The only way I stayed in the land of the sane was by a life of intense personal devotions. I would get up every morning at 4 AM and spend 5 or 6 hours in deep Bible study and prayer. Without that I would have gone crazy.

She was as neurotic a woman as was ever allowed to walk the streets. One time she was riding in a car with Joe Carroll, and started hysterically screaming. Her outburst frightened the Carroll children, and they started crying. Joe stopped the car and said, “The next sound out of anyone, and we are going straight home.” They had never had a refrigerator until Ron Blough got them a good American refrigerator. Betty was unbelievably pyrophobic. She knew if they left the refrigerator plugged in at night, they certainly would wake up with the house in flames. She insisted that Jane Smith unplug the refrigerator every night. It lasted one year before the compressor went. The horror stories I could tell about Betty Whewell are legion. Pastor Ishiguro and I used to go up to the mountains to the Ichinoseis every Friday night for a Bible study/home meeting. One time Pastor Ishiguro couldn't go, and Betty was concerned what to do. The answer was to send two other brothers with me, and read the CI Scofield Bible notes. The next morning Betty called me to ask how we made put the night before. “Oh, we had a great time.” “Did you read the CI Scofield notes as I told you?” “Yes ma'am. We read those notes, and then had a good discussion about the Bible.” “No you didn't. Those Christians are too young to have an unstructured discussion about the Bible.” “Okay, we didn't have a discussion about the Bible.” You couldn't blow your nose at Mino Mission without asking for permission. Absolutely everything was done according to Betty Whewell's flesh. Individuality was strictly forbidden.

I lasted one year, and, fortunately, got sick, and had to return to the states for a medical furlough. That saved me. When I went back to Japan, I returned to Karuizawa for more language study, and remained there for the next 15 years. By keeping things at arms length I was able to stay in good fellowship with Mino Mission. But in 1988 I got trapped into speaking there one Sunday. It was awful! It was like preaching to a room full of zombies. Every thing was totally plastic. The smiles, the “joy of the Lord”, the testimonies – everything was utterly synthetic. A huge number of the original believers had left, and the new ones were doing as told. That was one of the worst times of my life.

Five years later I was at the Ikoma Bible school, and met a boy who said his favorite translation was the Bungo tai Bible. I said. “The only place I know in Japan that uses the Bungo tai is Mino Mission.” “Yes, that is my home church.” I was stunned. I asked, “Were you there in 1988?” Then he looked at me and exclaimed, “Were you the man who spoke on Micah 7:18?” I couldn't believe it! He said that was the best service they had that year. My message was like it had been recorded on a CD in his heart. He said there had only been two guest speakers that year, and he remembered both messages. I told him that was me, and what he recalled as two messages were actually the one I spoke.

Betty is with the Lord. Ishiguro sensei can no longer preach. His son, John, has stepped forward, and brought new life. It looks like Mino Mission is on its way up again.

Praise the Lord,

                                          bill

SICK!

5 January 2014

Dear Phyllis,

Akemashite! Omedeto gozaimasu (It has opened! Congratulations). Whatever that means. All of Japan is locked into this traditional New Years greeting for the first few days of the new year. I have often wondered at it, but perhaps their greeting isn't much different than our compulsively saying “Happy new year.”

All that being aside, this has been an unusual akemashite (opening) for me. For the first time on many years I have begun the new years with my toes pointing vertically. A week ago last Saturday (Dec 28), I had a good day working in my shop, but towards evening I just didn't feel right. My usual practice is to have a major clean-up in my shop every Saturday night so it is clean on Sunday and ready to go on Monday. But as I sat there looking at tools scattered all over the place, and piles of saw dust and shavings on the floor, I just didn't have the heart to clean it up. After a brief supper, I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do more than go to bed, which I did at 7 PM. By 7 AM the next morning it was obvious things things were not normal in the temple, as I had been coughing nearly all night. I told Pastor Kichikun that was I felt the Christian thing would be more to stay home than go to church to share my affliction.

Pammy had gone to see her sister in Lampan for the weekend, and didn't get back until Monday evening. This gave me a sharp reminder of what life is like being sick, with no one to live with, and lovingly care for you. The first half was very empty, and the second half gave me a new appreciation for her.

My attitude towards sickness is to forget it. I seldom get sick, and if I do, I just ignore it. My energy level was extremely low, but I was able to keep moving and get a few things finished in the shop. But try as I may, a running nose and hacking cough won the argument that I had a cold.

For ten years the Homongs fraught the North Vietnamese to a stand still in northern Laos. Every year during the dry season the North Vietnamese army would advance with their heavy equipment. Then, in the rainy season, when the NV couldn't move their equipment, the Homongs would drive them back with guerrilla tactics. This work very successfully to the point that some American advisers became encouraged that they might win the war.

That was pretty much the way my health was going except I wondered when there would be a clear cut victory. It was sort of a draw between the cold trying to catch me, and me trying to deny that I had a problem. Rather than getting better, for five days I never got dressed, and, several afternoons, I couldn't bring myself to do anything but go to bed.

After this had dragged on for many days, with no viable change, I became somewhat concerned that it could turn into pneumonia. I have had pneumonia four times, and this is a good approach for it. Monday, Pammy was going shopping, and asked if I wanted her to buy some medicine for me. “No! I don't need medicine.” She was complaining that she was coming down with the same thing that was keeping me flat, but her fluctuations were more hourly. She was on deaths door step in the morning, but fine by noon and the rest of the day. I told her it was fine to buy something for herself, but I don't take pills. She did buy some delicious chicken for me which I greatly enjoyed. But then she tried a sneaky trick of wrapping three pills with a nice piece of chicken. That didn't work. So she tried the same stunt burying three pills in some sticky rice. After a prolonged struggle, to keep peace in the house, I took the pills with some hot tea. I feel most medications deals more with altering the symptoms than curing the sickness.

Jane Fadel once lamented, “I wish I could get sick enough to go to bed.” She was always battling some sort of sickness, but never enough to knock her out of action. With five boys to take care of, duty demanded that she stay on her feet, keep cooking, and keep the household running. I am somewhat like Jane, in that I am not sick enough to really call it sickness. There is a blurred line between sickness and laziness. I fear I am more in the later cataloger. Unlike Jane I don't really have anything demanding that I keep going. When I don't have the energy to work, it is easier to get horizontal. I was supposed to teach two days last week, but told Singha that I thought the greatest blessing I could be to the children was to stay away from them. Gary wanted me to work full time last week but I waved off of that. I don't know what to do this week. Today was the second day I didn't go to church. The condition in my lungs has varied very little. The persistent hacking cough has stayed pretty much the same. Physically, I feel slightly stronger today, and there is little reason for not joining the normal work force of people who don't have the luxury of staying home. But I would like to get this thing knocked out.

Amy Carmichael wrote, “No one can empathize with a frog being crushed under the point of a plow being drawn through the earth except another frog. And so, dear fellow believer; writhing under the severe hand of discipline of our loving, and yet stern heavenly Father, I write to you as one frog to another.” There is little to say that it is a blessing to be sick, but this momentary experience of the Lord pulling the plug on me has given me a new appreciation for people who do walk with the heavy pack on their back of physical affliction. David said, “Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I have kept Thy Word. It is good for me that I have been afflicted; that I might learn Thy Statutes.” (Ps. 119:67, 60). There is something to say for afflictions, and it would be best if I might profit from this.

On the Paul and Marisa front, Paul showed up the other day with one of the most amazing testimonies I have ever heard. Eighteen years ago Marisa had a son by a rat. Her husband was as bad as they get. He was abusive and a drug dealer. Needless to say that marriage didn't hold, and the boy wound up living with the father. The poor kid had no chance. His father raised him in the drug industry, and was training him to be a hit man to kill enemies. The lad saw that there was tremendous money to be made at his finger tips, but he also saw the rougher side of that life.

Marisa had lost all contact with him and hadn't seen her son in many years. After she got saved, she bean to pray over the devastation of her previous life, and started praying for her lost son. Shockingly, within a few days she suddenly got a call from him asking if he could come to live with her. Marisa was thrilled, but Paul wasn't too euphoric. The kid was just plain NG (no good), and it was doubtful how he was going to make out in their home. But they would give it a try. Not surprisingly, Paul concerns were fully justified. The shock of moving from a drug/big-money home to living in a severe Christian environment, where there was a zero tolerance for the slightest sin, and a military regimentation of daily prayer and Bible reading was pretty hard on him. Quite predictably, he couldn't handle it, and blew out. Paul was delighted to have him out of town.

But then three months later there was another amazing turn of events, when he called saying he had repented, changed his name to Mathew, and wanted to come back. Indeed he did seem like a new boy. He joined with the other kids who had a craving for Bible study and intense prayer. He was a good guitarist, and enjoyed leading the daily times of worship in signing. It looked like he was going to make it. But DNA was against him.

Marisa had always lived a very hard life. She was eight when she and her family were immersed under the Pol Pot's, Khmer Rough, in Cambodia. Her father was a wealthy man, but burned their money lest the Pol Pot soldiers discovered who they were. They were farmers in Cambodia. Her father gave his rifle to Marisa's older sister with the instruction, “If any soldier comes to this house, shoot him.” She did. They buried the dead soldier, but realized the intense danger, and knew they must flee from Cambodia. It was a year and a half later that they finally made it to Thailand, but Marisa lost two brothers who were killed by the Khmer Rouge. From the time she was young she always had to work very hard, which had developed in her a military level of work ethic; and she demanded that from everyone else in the home.

Mathew wasn't raised that way. He was a lazy kid who had never done anything but push drugs. By training and by DNA he was just horribly under motivated. He was just a lazy kid who loved to sleep and hated to work. Oh my goodness, life was hard on him. Paul said it took all the self-control he had to keep from killing him. Marisa said he was a bad example to the other young people in the home. Just staying there was cliff-hanger. A couple of times he came over here to pour his heart out to Pammy. He had to have someone he could talk with. There is nothing wrong with Paul and Marisa except they have an extremely high standard for Christian living, and they have very little tolerance for anyone who doesn't come up to that level. If someone isn't up every morning at 5:00 AM calling on the Lord, with intense weeping in prayer, have an insatiable craving for the Word of God, and work like a beaver all day “they don't love God”. Mathew was always in that category – “he doesn't love God”. Of course, Paul and Marisa are right, but being, at best, a lukewarm Christian myself, I could easily identify with Mathew.

Finally the last day came. Mathew became defiant. I agreed with Paul. They had no recourse but to put him out. And Mathew was delighted to get out from under that meat grinder of ridged Christian discipline. He moved in with a friend and became a drag on that home. Apparently he stayed in this area but had no contact with Paul and Marisa. I agreed with Paul. I saw no hope for him. He was just plain NG incorrigibly lazy.

Then six weeks ago they had a totally unexpected phone call from him saying he had repented and wanted another chance. I was surprised that they allowed him back, but was no too optimistic for his future.

Last week Mathew was at Macro super market shopping with his mother. Marisa had to go to the bathroom, and Mathew was pushing the shopping cart around getting things. Out of the blue, an old man, who was a total stranger, walked up to Mathew and in very decisive language said to him, “You are born-again and a very good man.” Mathew was stunned to receive this from a man who he had never seen in his life. Shortly after that, Marisa was walking out of the rest room when the same man walked up to her and forcefully said, “Your son is born-again and is a very good boy.” Marisa was stunned. She asked, “How do you know who my son is?” The man wouldn't respond to her question but reemphasized that he was a good kid.

I thought I had heard it all, but this is a new one for me. When Paul told me that story, I thought there is only one possible explanation. That had to be an angel. Paul said that was Mathew's position, and Paul felt the same way. I have never heard of such a story, but it doesn't surprise me. After being hammered for so many years that he was NG, that was a needful message for Mathew to hear. And Paul and Marisa have given him so little slack, it was necessary that the Lord send a special messenger to give them this message that he is born-again and is okay. If the Lord says he is a good boy, I guess everyone else will have to come on broad and believe he is going to make it. Me too.

Have a happy, holy, and spiritually prosperous Christ-centered new year,

                                                                                                               bill