The Beginning with Ron and Russ

26 April 2015

Dear Phyllis,

I have climbed both Mt. Fuji and Mt. Asama. In climbing a volcano like those two mountains, it seems you are not moving. It is just hour after hour of the same volcanic ash. The scene never changes. But then from time to time you turn around and look down. You are always surprised how far you have come and how the earth looks much different from the higher altitude. Life is like that.

In reminiscing, as I look back, I am tremendously impressed how different life looks from my present position than it did 30, 40, 50 years ago. As I look back on my formative years I consider Ron Blough was one of the biggest influences in setting the course of my life.

I really had no spiritual roots when I first went to Japan in 1958. I had only been saved a year and a half when I got off the plane in Tachikawa. It was one of the major miracles of my life that, literally, the first man I met in Japan was Russ O'Quinn. I landed in Tachikawa around midnight Friday night. I spent Saturday getting unpacked and settled in my new room. Sunday morning I decided to start at the base chapel to see if I could find any Christians. I went to the Officers Club for breakfast. When I walked in the dining room the first man I saw was a man sitting by himself having breakfast with a dog-eared Bible on the table. I went over to introduce myself. He said, “Please sit down. My name is Russ O'Quinn.” That was the beginning a tremendous love relationship between Russ and I. He was a great preacher and was teaching the adult Bible class at the base chapel. He turned out to be one of the top pilots in America. Twenty five years later he was on the cover of Life magazine with a feature article written about him. He loved me because I was a fighter pilot. Within three months Russ and I started the Church of the Open Door. I led the service and Russ preached. We knew the O'Quinns would not be in Japan forever and a year later wrote to the states to OCSC (Overseas Christian Servicemen Center) to see if they had a missionary they could send out to take the church on as a permanent ministry.

In August 1960 Ron and Marlene Blough arrived at Yokota. From the beginning it was a disaster. Ron was straight out of Bob Jones University with all the ideas and none of the experience. We were diametrically opposed personalities and views on how to run a church. He was as wild as a spring hare and undisciplined. Sunday after Sunday I would leave church almost in tears saying I can't take any more. But I knew if I left the church that would split the church slam down the middle and be a train wreck. Of the most intense stark necessity Ron and I had to work together. Over the next several months we developed a system of frank, almost bloody exchanges, to get things straightened out, but always walked away with clean hearts and a renewed respect for each other.

For the next three years Ron had the greatest influence on my life in establishing convictions, habits, and goals in life. For all of Ron's erratic behavior he had a tremendous heart for God and intense evangelistic zeal. I was just establishing my spiritual roots and that soil was the church of the Open Door under Ron Blough. He was one of the finest men of God I ever met in living by uncompromising principles of faith. He refused to share needs or run around with a tin cup held out begging funds. I saw in Ron the way of the Lord that I read about in the biographies of George Mueller, and Hudson Taylor. More than any other man Ron showed me how to trust the Lord apart from any visible help from man. Ron was a man of impeccable character.

Ron only had one message – soul winning. His heroes were Bob Jones, John R Rice, and Jack Hyles. We opened the Terris Christian Center. It was a converted night club and perfect for our needs. It was on the main drag going from the main gate of Yokota to the bar district. We thought it would be packed and were stunned when no one came in. After a month or two of waiting, Ron stood out in front of the center passing out tracts and invitations to the center. No one got by without something in their hand and a word to come in. After a few days Ron was surprised that the traffic of GIs going to the bars almost completely stopped. Then he noticed an unprecedented number of taxis going by. The Gis would pay a taxi to take them 400 meters rather walking past the center and facing Ron. The taxi company did a flourishing business.

One Saturday Ron and I were talking at the center trying to figure some new way of reaching the GIs. Of course the best thing was to go get them but we had never done that. Somehow we stumbled into a dare. I said, “I will go if you will go”. Ron said, “I will go if you will go”. Neither one of us wanted to go but we shamed ourselves into a corner from which we couldn't back out. That night we got about a dozen of our men to go down town to the bars to have a street meeting. That was a story by itself, but that started a new way of life for us. My years with Ron were easily the most outstanding period of aggressive witnessing of any time in my life.

Coming from Bob Jones Ron was a hardcore fighten' fundie. I felt the same way and together we established a hard no-compromise stand for Christ against liberalism. Fifty five years later those convictions have never left me.

In 1962 I left the Air Force to stay on in Japan as a missionary. From Yokota I went to Karuizawa and got under Joe Carroll as his disciple. Joe had all the convictions of Ron only considerably more refined. My life was radically different. I was no longer working in an American environment, but my roots had been established. How tremendously indebted I am to Ron Blough for setting the compass heading for the course I have walked ever since.

That was the first five years. The next half century certainly has been interesting. How far it is to the top I don't know. It is hard to believe that Jesus won't be here momentarily; it may be several more hours of trudging, but looking

back is very nostalgic and a cause of great thankfulness and praise.

Thank you Jesus,

                                           bill

James and Om

19 April 2015

Dear Phyllis,

We just went through the worst week of the year in Thailand. I write about this every year. This is the Thai Song Khrong. This is the biggest blow-out of the year. All stores close, business shut down, and the entire country turns out for one huge national one week water fight. This festival started out innocently enough with the Buddhist custom of younger showing respect to elders by pouring water over their hands. But it degenerated into a national water fight with millions standing along side the road with buckets full of water or garden hoses going full blast to douse any poor turkey passing by. It is impossible to go much further than 100 meters without getting thoroughly drenched with water. Of course traffic deaths peak as thousands of motorists on motor bikes get doused with buckets of water in the face. For my part I try not to go out of the house except after 8:00 PM when all the water throwers are inside having supper.

Tuesday a brother came by in a pickup truck, and Pammy told me we had to go to a hospital to see James. James prayed to accept Jesus about a month ago but we haven't seen much of him since. As we got closer to the center of Chiang Mai it was like there was a barricade up. I mean the traffic wasn't moving. The brother driving went down two or three traffic lights where he thought he might get through. But ten minutes later it was like we were on the main street of hell. We we were right beside the mote in the center of town and the traffic was at a dead stop. The street was lined with hundreds of crazies, aged 12 to 35 throwing thousands of gallons of water on everything within reach. Bucket after bucket got poured over our truck. I despaired that we would ever get out of there, but to my surprise, an hour later we finally made it to the hospital.

When we got to the hospital I was surprised that it was a mental hospital. I asked , “Why is James in here?” “He attempted suicide by trying to get struck by car”. (He is crippled in a wheel chair) I asked, “When?” “Last week”

“Who put him in here?” “The police.” Oh.

When a nurse brought him outside where we were waiting, he was a real mess. He not only is crippled but seems rather spastic. His speech is difficult to understand and his movements are very irradic. He was crying, his nose was running, and his head was all over the place. It was really difficult to try to sort out how to speak to him. James lives with another crippled boy, Om. Om was saved about three months ago but he has been out of town much of the time. I was very impressed with the way Om conducted himself. Being James' room mate, Om understood James the best and interpreted much of what he said for Pammy and a couple of others who were with us. Om seemed to speak with understanding, compassion, and authority. A nurse came with a pill he was supposed to take. No one could prevail on James to take his pill, but Om finally got him to swallow it.

After some time I said to Pammy, “We have got to pray”. I told her I wanted to pray by myself in English with no interpretation. I just wanted to speak with God. Then Pammy got the rest of the crowd to stand around and pray for him. Then I told Pammy, “Now we have to sing”. It seemed to me that songs of joy would be the most powerful thing we could do in a situation like that. We were there for well over an hour. When we left there were a number of questions in my mind about how in the world you handle something like this. I believe Om is probably the key as he will have to step forward to be his big brother and tutor James along. But I cannot escape the fact that this poor man is still a creation of God that the Lord has made in His image. If he could get firmly established in Christ that would be a huge victory. Om and a friend were here Saturday and we had some Bible study. I was surprises how well he seems to grasp spiritual truth. For a new beginner he has a very good start. And it seems like he has a good mind.

The Bible says, “Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shall find it after many days (Ecc. 11:1). There is a time factor in spiritual things. It takes nine months for a baby to grow and 100 years for a 100 year old oak tree to grow. Paul recently had a big encouragement. Four years ago they saw a bad boy saved. He was about 18 and headed for a real bad life – big time. He seemed to get marvelously saved and was a big encouragement, but then fell away. Paul and Marisa hadn't heard from him in over three years, but he suddenly came out of the wood work three weeks ago and apparently has gotten straightened out with the Lord and is very much back on track. Both Nun and his mother have been in church every week since then. Yesterday afternoon two little girls came by that I hadn't seen since we had Annie. I honestly didn't recall who they were but Pammy said, “Don't you remember these girls who used to come here to play with Annie?” Oh my goodness it was good to see them.

I said last weeks service was bad. This week we hit the absolute bottom. Pammy has a friend that I really don't like. I have known her for two year and Pammy drifts in and out about their relationship. Redeme calls herself an apostle and is a bona fide kook. I thought we had put that one behind us but Friday Pammy asked me if I would object to Redeme coming to the morning service. Komatta (big problem). I reluctantly said I would leave that up to her. Tragically Redeme showed up. The service was going along at a low C level but a new girl showed up with a terrific testimony and Om and his girl friend were there. Pammy had led Mae to the Lord the night before. After the new girl gave her testimony Pammy said, “Let's pray for her”. No problem. Good idea. She came forward and knelt down and Redeme went to lay hands on her and pray. Then Om and Mae joined her kneeling. We began to pray, and after a couple of minutes I opened my eyes to see what was going on. The first girl was out cold on the floor and Redeme was slaying in the spirit Om and Mae. Something in me snapped. I stepped over the bodies on the floor, got my hat and keys to my bike, and left. Pammy was panic stricken. Redeme asked, “What is wrong? Doesn't Bill like the Holy Ghost”. I said, “Yes I like the Holy Spirit very much but I don't care for the holy ghost you brought in here. I went to another church at 11:15.

The last two that were slain in the spirit were Pammy's sister, Tim, and Nok at the meeting six months ago. The result of that was two months later Tim was in a mental hospital and Nok seems to be drifting from the Lord. We really don't need that spirit. I was supposed to preach in ten minutes but I could not stay in that room with that kind of witch craft going on. Lord help us.      

     bill

Hang In There Spirit

12 April 2015

Dear Phyllis,

If you had been with us this morning you certainly would be scratching your head.

I have known Pastor Kichkun for at least ten yeaers. I like him very much. He was the one responsible for the confirmartion on why I married Pammy. After our marriage I was determined to be faithful in supporting him. At first we were working together and I was on a regular schedule of preaching at least one message a month. I have no idea why, but for some reason, last year, I got deleted and benched for five months. About six months ago he and Pammy got into a disagreement and he attacked her badly on Facebook for one week. It was so bad that I told her that I did not recommend her going there any more. But even though she was out I continued going every week. I got back on the preaching schedule in December and January. In February I was scheduled to speak and thought the Lord had laid a message on my heart. When I got to church I was surprised to see a bus load of women from Australia. A couple of them gave brief testimonies and that was the end of the service. Maybe I just got my nose bent but I felt my time of service with Kichikun was over.

Pammy had led a number of people to the Lord which resulted in her having her own service in our house. I didn't want Kichikun to say I left him to join her, so I went to two different churches for the next two months. But three weeks ago I felt the time had come to work together with Pammy. She was thrilled. Of those that Pammy had prayed with for salvation there were a few who had fallen away. This is to be expected. But her best convert was also a concern. Nok was easily the most zealous and faithful beleiver Pammy had. She had a 12 year old daughter that was equally excited about Jesus and both of them were a great joy. Nok's husband had dumped her six months ago and Pammy shared with me that Nok was having problems with craving for another man. That is not good. Then I noticed her daughter, Pin, stopped coming to church. The grandmother had a program to turn Pin from Christ and Nok was passively allowing that to happen. I warned Pammy if we don't fight for Pin we will lose Nok also. Today was the first day that Nok didn't show up.

My father died of a heart attack when I was 17. He had always put up Christmas lights on the bushes in front of our house. The first Christmas after he was gone, on Christmas Eve, my mother was outside tearfully putting up the lights trying to take his place. I was working in my shop trying to forget what day it was, and the sight of my tearful mother putting up those lights only painfully emphasized the emptiness that our family had died.

The service we had today wasn't sad, it was just plain tragic. It vividly reminded me of that horrible Christmas Eve when I was 17. There is a fine Lahu minority boy that regulaly comes to our house and frequently stays with us. Koshin is about 29 and has a good heart, but he got short changed with less than a full deck. Or in others words, he's not too bright. Last night at 11:00 Koshin came with his 7 year old nephew. The morning worship service was supposed to start at 10:30 but at 10:30 Pammy was in the shower. Koshin and his nephew,Tee, and I were sitting there when Pammy joined us at 10:45. Bless her heart, Pammy is determined to keep up the form of a formal religious worship service. She is reasonably good on her guitar. I would give her a strong C+ or B-, but today it was more like a D. Basically she was singing by herself although Koshin and I were supposed to be singing with her. The song service was substantially less than good. She had Koshin stand and read the 150^th Psalm. And then she asked me to lead the “congregation” in reciting the Lord's Prayer from Mathew 6:9-13. She wanted me to say it in English and she would put it into Thai for the “congregation” to recite together.

I detest formally reciting the Lord's Prayer. Whatever it is, there is no way that could honestly be called payer. Authentic prayer comes from the heart. That recitation come from the mind, or more literally from the mouth. Reciting that thing rote is exactly what Jesus told us not to do. When He first taught it He said, “Don't pray like the heathen” (Mt. 6:7) and that is exactly what we do. This is nothing more than a Protestant “Hail Mary” or a Buddhist chant. All three are identical. Pammy asked me to pray like Jesus taught us. I would be glad to do that but it would take ten or fifteen minutes. I stood and poured out my heart asking the Lord to give us reality and then said “Our Father”. Pammy broke in by repeating that in Thai. I sat down. I said, “I thought you wanted me to pray as Jesus told us to, but if you want to say a chant you can do that by yourself. Whatever that chant is there is no way it can be called prayer”. Pammy and Koshin said their chant together. Finally it was time for the sermon. I knew that I had a congregation of one 7 year old boy and told about David and Goliath. At least he had never heard that before. I did my best to hold his interest for 20 minutes. After the sermon Pammy wanted to have special prayer for Koshin. No problem. Then she asked me to pronounce some sort of a Benediction. I pleaded with the Lord that we were totally unworthy of any of His blessing, but, not for our sake – but for the sake of His dear Son, and for the sake of His worthy Name, and for the sake of the Body of Christ – that somehow He might be gracious and bestow some blessing on us. I meant it.

Oh my goodness it was bad. This dry, empty, religion that is void of the presence and reality of Christ; I don't like it. But what do you do? Pammy has had some real fine services. I have seen a lot of the Lord in some when I got home from attending church some other place. The Sunday that the brethren from her denomination were here, Pammy said there so many tears people were patting each other on the shoulder. She said the brother had a powerful message. How can you talk about the wounds of Jesus without breaking down in tears? But what do you do when the only one there is a brother who is short a full deck and a 7 year old boy? Pammy prayed with Tee again to accept Jesus. I don't know. Twenty years later we might look back and say that was the day the Lord met with us. I admire Pammy for her gambaru (hang in there) spirit, but today was a day that I would like to forget. Jesus is coming with His reward in His hand. Lord keep us faithful.

                                        bill

Like Mother, Like Wife

5 April 2015

Dear Phyllis,

I have said for several years that my mother was the greatest miracle I had ever seen. My mother was very active in the church. But we were good liberals. We knew the Bible wasn't true and all religions were the same. I never heard of salvation until I was 21 in Florida. When I got saved my sister thought I had joined a cult and my mother was heart-broken because I said good people were going to hell. When she was 68 she was the worse mess I had ever seen. I couldn't imagine her living another six months, but, somehow, she edged her way back from the brink. Then when she was 70 she had an encounter with Jesus like something I have never seen in any other person. When she was 75 she was traveling around America doing evangelism with a country western singer, Patsy Prescott. In her BC (before Christ) days she lived chemically. Her pill box looked like a pharmacy. After she met Jesus she had perfect health and never took a pill. When she was 86 she was losing her hearing, so my sister bought her a hearing aid. She didn't like it and asked Jesus to give her back her hearing. He did. The grandchildren were concerned how Jesus was ever going to get such a health person to heaven. She couldn't get sick. But then when she was 88 the Lord pulled the plug and within a few days she was transported to that City towards which she had run so earnestly.

Her funeral was one of the highlights of my life. I sat there in that church and couldn't believe my eyes. My mind went back 30 years before, when I was first saved and the impossible mess of my family. For years my mother went from being liberal to try to follow me but showed no signs of salvation. My sister was up to her ears in the occult and taking her children in the occult with her. We thought, “What chance do they have?” Now everyone was totally sold out to Christ and my mother had gone past me in her pursuit of Christ. In my wildest dreams I couldn't imagine a scenario like the one I was looking at that day. It was a total 100% triumph for Jesus.

Now my wife is giving my mother a good run to come in a close second as a miracle. You might think it minor but I think its major. Ever since we have been married, motor bikes have been a huge problem. Both her father and brother were killed on motor bikes and she had been hit by a truck. She was totally neurotic. When we would go somewhere I always wanted to drive, but she would sit on the back screaming “look out!!!” every 100 meters. In marginal situations she would go bezerk, grab me, and nearly caused accidents. It was awful. Recently I have had her drive as it is easier for me to trust the Lord than it is for her to trust me. But the other day she asked me to drive. I couldn't believe it. We rode all the way into town and back, over 30 km, and she sat serenely on the back and never said one word. That was a miracle that almost challenges my mother.

In nearly every letter I have murmured about my shelf status. I sit here every day for 12 hours with absolutely nothing to do but look at internet and write. The other day I had a most unusual incident (miracle). I had just written one of the finest devotionals I have ever composed. I was thrilled with what came out and I saw on my computer. I can't write things like that. I was going over it separating words run together and spell check when something went hay wire with my computer. Words were separated by half line breaks but I could not clean it up. I tried every trick I knew to balance out the space but it just kept getting worse and worse. Finally in desperation I just kept my finger on backspace key until I had erased the first half of the article. Then I tried to rewrite it. Everything seemed to be working until I got to that same place in the middle of the screen, and it went bonkers again. Just like before. After an hour of intense frustration I had had the course. In total disgust I trashed the entire article and erased everything.

It was so unusual the only thing I could think of was that it was just the devil trying to destroy what I had written. That is what he is supposed to do. But if the devil gives me fits like that I wondered where are the angels to help me. The devil won that one 5 to zero. I thought if this is the way it works I might as well quit, and looked at You Tube for the rest of the day.

The material I had written was so good I decided to give it another shot and rewrite the devotional article. I was stunned when I turned on my computer to see that it was still there intact, just like before I started messing with it. I finalized the spacing and spell check, and thought I would just leave the line that had a huge gap in it. But then I thought, “Why not give it a try?” I hit the backspace key and the line started to move. In a minute the article was perfect. Computer geeks might think that is usual, but I see no other explanation than the Lord did a miracle and redid what the devil had destroyed.

I am mattaku komaru (absolutely stuck, big problem). Every preacher likes his own preaching best. I am no exception. The Lord has closed the preaching door for me and I have very little outlet. But He has poured into my heart reams of material that I long to get out. Daily I sit on my balcony writing a commentary on the Song of Solomon. I am amazed everyday when I see what comes out on the computer. It is like someone else is writing it. I'm not that smart. But then it goes in the dead-end file. There is no one interested in reading this material. I am embarrassed when I think of my arrogance in thinking that my material is so wonderful. I detest that when I see it in others. But then I told the Lord, “I don't care who writes this stuff. I don't want to stand in the spot light. But the material Oh hang it! I don't know how to say anything or what to say.

Forget it. Gomen nasai (I'm sorry). It's just that I am highly frustrated. My heart is burning, I am exploding, and the only thing I can do with the material I write is send it to the dead file. I was writing for Facebook but that got closed down. Now I have the dead file.

Today is resurrection Sunday. Thank God Jesus came back from the dead. And because He came back, someday He will bring all of us out of these tattered tabernacles to put on a glorious body like Himself. Everyday I am blown away with who He is and what He has done for us. Everyday the mystery gets stronger. I am lost for words all together.

Jesus, Jesus, Lord Jesus, have Your way in us. Father please glorify Your Son in and through us. Do anything You want as long as Jesus is advanced. Lord please do it. Amen.

                                           bill