Kimura san

28 June 2015

Dear Phyllis,

One of the more amazing Japanese testimonies I have heard is Kimura san. In the late 1930s  Kimura was like any other Japanese boy with his heart full of nationalism and a great desire to get into aviation. He was fortunate to be selected and completed pilot training to became a Japanese fighter pilot.

Five years later we was in the Philippines and tangled with an American P-38 over the Philippine sea. The Japanese Zero was an outstanding aircraft but it had a weakness with venerable fuel tanks. Unlike the American self-sealing fuel tanks, the Japanese tanks would ignite if hit. The American got the better of him and his plane was on fire. Kimura got the canopy open and successfully bailed out. He got a good chute opening and was coming down when the American pilot began flying circles around him. He naturally thought the America would line up and shoot him while hanging in the straps. He didn't. Kimura landed in the ocean and got into the rubber raft in his parachute. Again he expected the American to strafe him while he was in the dingy. He didn't. Several hours later a ship appeared on the horizon. He couldn't tell if it was Japanese or American and got his pistol out to shoot himself if it was an American. No Japanese would allow himself to be taken captive. Someone hollered from the bridge, “Dai jobu desu ka?” (Are you okay) and he knew he was safe.

A few days later we was talking to an intelligence officer who told him, “Kimura san, you are a lucky man. Many of those American fighter pilots are Christians. They have a strange religion that tells them to love their enemies. They are very good pilots and will fight furiously, but once a plane is damaged they won't kill their enemy needlessly.” That was the first time Kimura heard of Kirisuto kyo (Christianity). Later in the war he was flying a bomber in China and flew over the wrong town. It was highly defended by the Chinese and his plane was shot to pieces. He did manage to get it back to his home field and crash-landed on the runway. There were five on board. Three were killed and the other two were badly injured. Kimura's left leg and arm were badly mangled. The doctor said he would have to amputate them but the anesthetists was not able to put him out. As a result his arm and leg never were amputated but deformed.

At the end of the war Kimura was on the Manchurian front and ordered to surrender to the Russians. The Russians took 240,000 Japanese soldiers prisoner and sent them all to Siberia. The conditions in Siberia were inhumane and tens of thousands of Japanese prisoners died in those camps. The Russians game plan was to recruit agents to return to Japan to work towards a communist revolution in Japan. Kimura hated the Russians and steadfastly resisted. After seven years in Siberia he was finally repatriated back to Japan in 1952. The only thing that kept him alive during those long years in prison was a desire to see his wife and children again. But when he was finally able to get home there was one more crushing blow waiting; to learn that his wife and children had all been killed during the bombings in Tokyo.

His world collapsed. He had given his life to fight for the emperor only to find out that the emperor wasn't god after all and Japan had lost the war. Then all his suffering in Siberia was in vain as his family was dead. With nothing else left in life he decided to become a Buddhist monk and walk around Japan praying for all the dead souls. For the next several years he did that, wearing the Buddhist robe and walking from shrine to shrine praying for all his dead friends and family.

In 1958 Kimura was in Karuizawa. He came upon a group from the Karuizawa Bible School who were having a street meeting. Stopping by to see what they were saying, he was interested to learn that these young folks were Christian. This was the second time he heard of Kirisuto kyo. His mind went back to the Philippines 15 years before then when that American didn't kill him. He was interested to learn more about that religion and engaged the students in a discussion. They invited him to go back to the Bible School with them and spend the night there. He did. And the next night. And a week. It was there that Kimura san learned about the God of heaven who gave His Son so those who were His enemies could be saved.

I met Kimura san in 1962 when I was teaching in the Bible School. I had him in some classes. He was pastoring a church in Ueda then but still living at the school. That fall I was conducting a special Thanksgiving Service in the Gospel Church and Kimura san gave a moving testimony of his gratefulness to God for keeping him through all those years and he was worshiping Jesus in Karuizawa rather than his bones frozen in Siberia. In 1963 he fell in love with the school cook. I was privileged to be at his wedding. Not long after that Kimura san and his wife returned to his native home of Aomori in northern Japan. They had three more children and he pastor-ed a church there for the next twenty years.

It is amazing how God takes the little seemingly insignificant incidents in life to weave together the fabric that ultimately becomes the garment of our salvation. I have no idea whether or not that American pilot was a Christian but Kimura certainly owes his salvation to the biblical culture in America in 1940 and the thousands of American soldiers who were Christian. And thank God for the kids from the Bible school who were standing on the street corner preaching Jesus.

This past week we had a wonderful little miracle. By Wednesday we were dead broke. I had a dental appointment on Thursday and we didn't have fuel enough in the car to get to the dentist. Singha, the director of the kindergarten where I teach, occasionally gives us $15 for pocket money. Pammy was hoping for a miracle, but I came home to report nothing. Then I opened my e-mail. There was a note from a dear brother in Carolina saying he had sent $100 Western Union. That was totally unexpected and just what we needed to finish out the month. Jesus is faithful. That was more special than if it had two or three more zeros.

Hang tough and let's give it all we have for Jesus this week,

                                                                                                          bill

Jim Cook

21 June 2015

Dear Phyllis,

Last week I shared with you the testimony of JB Friends. He was the most unimpressive man I ever met and the Holy Spirit came through him totally unfiltered. This week I want to talk about the dead opposite.

Jim Cook was as outstanding a man as you could imagine. He was every inch a mans man. He was built like a Green Bay linebacker, with penetrating blue eyes, and a vise-like grip. I met him when he was the speaker in Karuizawa in 1975. Jim Cook was an MK from India where his father was a medical missionary. With that as a background that gave him the drop on any other candidate and along with that he was marvelously spiritual. He told the story, as a 12 year old boy he was sitting beside a road and encountered a Hindu sadhu holy man. Respectfully he inquired, “Holy man, have you found the enlightenment that you are seeking?” The sadhu honestly replied that he had not. Then the lad went on, “You are much older than I, but I have found peace in knowing Jesus Christ.” Twenty years later, Jim was back in India, this time as a missionary. One day, when he was the speaker at a pastors conference, an Indian pastor came up to him and asked if he recalled witnessing to a sadhu as a young boy. Jim said he did. Then the man stuck his hand out and said, “I am that sadhu. Because of you I have been a Christian pastor for many years.”

Another moving testimony he told was about his son. While in India, his 9 year old son came down with a deadly disease. The mission doctor told him there was nothing in India that would help but there was a serum in the states that would almost guarantee his recovery. They immediately contacted the states and had a bottle of this life-saving medication sent by air. But it got intercepted in the Indian customs who refused to give it to them. The lads health deteriorated until the doctor told Jim that he was hours away from death. But even at that last minute they still had a good chance of recovery if they could only get the medicine. Jim went to the custom and pleaded one more time. The bottle was sitting on the counter right in front of him. He pleaded, “Please, sir, let me have that medicine. My son's life is at stake.” The custom official replied, “This world will be a better place to live if one more white boy dies.” And spit beetle nut juice on Jim's white suit. Jim went back to the hospital, picked the lad up in his arms, and begged God again for the life of his son. He died in his arms.

Heart broken they went back to their home and dug a grave for his boy. A small group of Indian believers were gathered for that sorrowful funeral. In closing they sang a song. Then they noticed a large group coming out from the village where they lived. Jim seized the opportunity to share the Gospel and stood on his son's grave to preach. He was just getting started when the worst antagonist in that village stepped forward to interrupt him. Then the antagonist faced the crowd and said, “If this man can stand on his son's grave and sing, I want his Jesus.” And nearly the entire village turned to Christ. Jim said that his son won more to Christ in his death than he would have in his life.

After a couple of terms in India the Cooks went to serve the Lord in the Philippines. In 1962 there was an article in Time magazine about a famous Buddhist Monk who was involved in a conspiracy to over throw the government in the Philippines; he was tried and sentenced for execution. But before he was executed he renounced his faith and became a Christian. A reporter asked why he had spent his life in Buddhism but when he faced death why did he turn to Christianity. The monk replied, “Because there is no forgiveness of sin in Buddhism.” I was surprised when I learned it was Jim Cook who had won this man to Christ.

One other famous convert that Jim Cook had in the Philippines was the #2 man in the Huk communist guerrillas. Shortly after this man came to Christ he visited Jim one day in a very agitated spirit. He faced him and demanded, “Is this Gospel you have told me about Jesus true, or is it simply your religion.” Jim said he had never been so deeply searched in his life. After a brief reflection he honestly answered, “I swear by my life it is true.” The man thanked him and left. That night Jim was called out by the police at 1:00 am to go with them out of town five kilos. There he looked down at the body of a man lying in the ditch. The man knew he was going to be killed and he didn't want to die for religion.

When he was with us in Karuizawa Jim Cook was the pastor of a large Baptist church in Hawaii. He told of a day when a tough Marine was in his church sitting up front glaring in hostility as Jim preached. At the close of the service Pastor Cook was standing at the door shaking hands with folks leaving. As the Marine came by he looked him in the eye and said, “Young man, God has an arrow in your heart and you are not going to escape until you give your life to Jesus.” It wasn't too long before the Marine was broken at the feet of Jesus. All too soon he was sent to Vietnam. Faithfully wrote his spiritual father every week telling the thrilling stories of all the Lord was doing and the many coming to Christ. Then the letters stopped.

A year later a Marine chaplain visited Jim's church to share the rest of the story. The chaplain had been with a group of soldiers on a deployment that got engaged in a fierce fire fight. The Christian Marine was badly wounded and loaded on a helicopter for evacuation. But he pleaded, “Take me off. There are other men hurt worse then me. Take them first.” And he was off-loaded. But the chopper never came back. As the brother was lying there dying, the chaplain knelt beside him to comfort him. The Marine looked up and said, “Chaplain the reason you can't help me is because you don't know Jesus as your savior.” In the six hours as he lay there dying he led 18 men and the chaplain to Christ. And he came to share that story with Jim.

Queen Victoria said she got into heaven by the small letter “m”. The Bible says, “not mANY noble are called” (1 Cor. 1:26). The queen said by God putting the small letter “m” in front of “any” she got included. God's favorite selection is the weak and foolish. But He can use the wise and powerful just as well. JB Friends and Jim Cook were radially different men. It doesn't matter what the man looks like on the outside; the determining factor is WHO is in the inside.

Lord Jesus, be merciful and use us as You can.

                                                                                           bill

J.B. Friends

14 June 2015

Dear Phyllis,

I have very little opportunity to carry the ball for Jesus, but my position on the bench has given me a front row seat to meet some of God's greatest heroes. Among these super stars I would list JB Friends very near the absolute top. Brother Friends was from South Africa and one of the most unimpressive men I ever met. I doubt that he weighed 137 lbs. soaking wet. He was as shy and timid as they come. To shake hands with him was like taking hold of a dead fish. But when he stood in the pulpit – what a transformation! He preached with such power and thunder I feared the pulpit would be reduced to kindling wood before he was done. I never saw a man in whom the Holy Spirit came through more unfiltered than JB Friends. He had absolutely nothing in him by nature but in the Spirit, he was the released power of God.

Brother Friends told how he was saved as a young man but extremely shy. One night he heard a famous man of God preach a powerful message on “I have opened my mouth to the Lord” (Job 33:2). God spoke to him. He waited until the church was empty and there was no one left but he and the speaker. He rushed forward, blurted out, “I have opened my mouth to the Lord and I will not go back”; then fled from the building. He was from Cape Town and there was a one kilo long board walk where hundreds of men would gather every night to smoke and talk. To fulfill his vow, he got a handful of tracts and set out to witness. He walked the full length of the board walk without giving out one tract. Then he turned around and walked all the way back without giving out a tract. As he turned around to give it a third try he thought, “This could keep up all night”. With all the courage he could muster up he walked up to one man and spoke to him about Jesus. And JB said, “I have never closed my mouth since”.

Brother Friends messages were unforgettable but he always took his wife with him to read the Scripture. I mean to tell you, listening to her was something else. One time I was talking with a friend who had been to a JB Friends conferences and asked him if he recalled what JB had preached on. My friend replied, “Was that the man who always had his wife read the Bible?” He didn't recall the message but he could never forget listening to Mrs. Friends read the Word.

I first met Mr. & Mrs. Friends in Karuizawa in 1967. Eight years later they were back for another conference. After one meeting I went up Mrs. Friends and said, “Mrs. Friends my name is Bill Cook...”. She exclaimed, “Bill Cook. We looked for you the last time we were here but were informed you were in the states” (1972). I was stunned that she knew me, but a greater shock was soon to follow. I invited them home for lunch. When we walked in the house I introduced them to Take chan who was living with us. When I introduced Mrs. Friends to Take she exclaimed, “Burtrom, this is the girl we have been praying for!”. When I told Take that the Friends had been praying for her in South Africa, she burst into tears. (I weep now as I write about it). Somehow the Friends were reading my prayer letters in South Africa and had been praying for us. Neil and Peggy Verwey were, of course, very close to the Friends. They both were from South Africa. Years later, Neil told me that JB Friends was the only man he knew that could lay down at night knowing that he had prayed as much as the Lord would have him.

One time JB was speaking to a Japanese audience. At the start of the evening meeting he said, “Komban wa” (Good evening). We all laughed. It was odd that a visiting speaker could say “Good evening” in Nihongo (Japanese). Then he startled us by saying, “Konban watakushi wa Nihongo de inoritai to omoimasu”. (I want to pray in Japanese tonight) No one had ever heard a vising speaker say such a long phrase in Nihongo. Then JB opened his mouth and began to pour his heart out in Japanese. Bong!!! I had never heard anything like it. After the meeting I asked him how he learned to speak like that. He had only been in Japan a few weeks at a time for the occasional conference. He told me as a young man he wanted to be a missionary in Japan but the Lord had told him his field was South Africa. Because of his love for the Bible and Japan he had read the entire Japanese Bible through on his knees and looked up every word.

In an unforgettable message JB told the story of a young British missionary who was going out to preach on day in Japan around the turn of the century. As he was walking past some houses he noticed a man lying on a mat reading something that looked like a Bible. It was so unusual he stopped to check on it, and – sure enough – it was a Bible. This man was dying of tuberculosis. He had never met a Christian in his life, but, somehow had fallen heir to a Bible. Simply by reading the Scripture he was saved and brought into a very deep relationship with Jesus. After some brief fellowship the man said, “I have written a poem if you would like a copy.” The missionary gratefully accepted a copy which was later translated into English by Paget Wilkes. JB Friends quoted that poem in his message that night.

With Him, with Him, upon the Tree Ah this, yes this is rest at last.

Here is the souls phelisity, here is the crown of victory, here is all sorrow past.

With Him, with Him, upon the Tree, Here all my grief and pain have died;

I look in vain for misery for joy is all that I can see with Jesus crucified.

Strong pain hath held me in its sway for six long weary weary years

And yet my heart is always gay, my lips are singing every day

I have no time to tears

No tears and yet the more His grace doeth this my joyful heart ore flow

The more 'tis torn by fierce distress

The while I see a wooing grace rush to its form of woe

That is the best description of the Christian life I have ever heard. “With Him, with Him upon the Tree”; that tells it all. With Jesus... everything is settled here. “No tears and yet the more His grace doeth this my joyful heart ore flow, the more 'tis torn by fierce distress, the while I see a wooing grace rush to its form of woe”. Amazing. And 40 years later I remember that word like it was preached last night. Oh, thank you Jesus.

                                                       bill

Happy Anniversary

7 June 2015

Dear Phyllis,

Today should be a banner day. We should be putting up the balloons, ribbons, and whistles, and get out the cake. Today is my birthday. It was 58 years ago today that I very haltingly said Yes to Jesus and did a 180 on the road of life. Nellie Pavloc of Russia use to say, “I didn't find the Lord; He found me. I was the one who was lost.” I can say Amen to that ten times. If Jesus ever had a poor, lost, wandering sheep, it was me. How He used a grocery string tied around my finger to gradually replace it with a cable tied around my heart is one of the great miracles recorded in the archives of heaven. If there should ever be someone standing on a podium giving a speech of appreciation and thankfulness to God, it is me. As we go through the directory of those whose names were recorded in the Lambs Book of Life from before the foundation of the earth, it is doubtful that there is anyone who stands more deeply in debt to the inexplicable mercy and grace of God than me. If Jesus were to go down the list of His greatest in debtors and see the one with the longest string of zeros after their debt there is little doubt that I would come out number one.

But rather than climb the podium to give an appropriate speech today, my feet are too sore even to put on shoes. Instead I feel more like calling for a chair to sit down. My feet are soar and my legs terribly weary today. Recently I saw a video clip on Fox News of a female soldier completing a 29 mile trek to graduate from Green Beret training. She was 100 feet from the finish line and collapsed. She was on the ground on her hands and knees with three or four of her friends and instructors standing beside her encouraging her to go on. With a Herculean effort she did manage to get to her feet and stagger forward only to stumble again. But at last she stayed on her feet for another 80 feet to collapsed just beyond the finish line. She was delirious but made it. When I saw that I thought, “yappari that is me, except I don't have her fight”.

I don't want to dishonor my Lord, but I am terrible short of breath today.

Physically things continue to improve. Last week I said I was at 15% recovery. Today I may be up to 25%. I can almost get a spoon to my mouth to eat with my right hand. I am starting to do the exercise of swinging my arm pendulum in about a 90 degree ark for 100 repetitions. The other day I walked to 7-11 to buy some bread that was almost a mile.

But activity – or the lack of it – is what is killing me. Apart from going to school to talk to the children for 30 minutes each morning, my life is little more than what it would be in a nursing home. Ninety five percent of every day is either spent in bed or in my chase lounge chair on my balcony. I do have my two hours of devotions every morning in the Word, prayer, and fellow-shipping with Samuel Rutherford (Letters of Samuel Rutherford). He spent nine years in silent exile where he was barred from his pulpit. He talked in ecstatic terms of how the Lord had taken him into His house of wine and feasting together with Jesus. He said he had learned more through his cross of silence that he ever had from years of preaching. He picturesquely wrote, “If the tinkling of the iron chains put on my arms and legs by Jesus would sing together a melodious song of praise to my Lord, then I am satisfied”. Amen! Oh, Lord, let it be so with me!

But the nine years of Rutherfords exile gave to the church one of the greatest classics that has ever been written. His letters have been a treasure for tens of thousands for 400 years. Had Rutherford been in the pulpit every Sunday during that time his enduring ministry would not have been 100^th of what came out of his letters. When Jim Elliot, Nat Saint, and the other three brethren were speared to death by the Auca Indians in Ecuador in 1956 it looked like a colossal waste. But what has happened as a result of their historic sacrifice has rung a bell that has resonated world wide ever since. Had Jim Elliot lived to put in 50 years of productive missionary service he could not have accomplished a fraction of what his life produced by that river.

I am no Samuel Rutherford or Jim Elliot. (A good friend of mine was a classmate and close friend of Jim Elliot. He told me that Jim was just cut out of a different piece of fabric and very few people understood him.) My name isn't on the same page with those men. I am barely in the same book. I can clearly see the glory of God in the apparent waste of their lives. But I can't see anything positive in my being set aside.

It is no excessive wear but rust that is killing me. I have begged the Lord for a microphone to preach Christ, but what I got was to be relocated on the quiet left end of the bench with a clean uniform. How I long to get on the field to get back in the game. Lord, help me to make this the nosiest place in the stadium cheering for those who are playing. How I long for a ministry. A brother challenged me to get in a ministry of writing on Facebook. I did that for a month and then the brother took me off. So much for Facebook. The only window I have is writing. My heart burns with a tremendous amount of thoughts concerning Song of Solomon and started writing that down. But after sending out a few devotionals I discovered the market for that was zero. It seems that the Lord has put His thumb on my writing and closed that down also. I feel totally isolated.

Then I imagined myself on an island with Jesus that had no internet, mail service, and no one to speak to. What would I do? Adam didn't have internet or a large group to minister to. It was just He and God – later Eve. If this was my scenario then I would busy myself to make my island the most wonderful place on earth for Jesus. This has given me a little motivation for life. But being a social creature, I wish there was something more productive to do to serve the Lord. Of course there is prayer. Prayer from a deserted island can be as efficacious as if I was living in the center of Tokyo. But prayer emanates from a spirit of prayer. The vast bulk of my prayer are for things where I see no movement. I pray much for North Korea, the Uyghurs in west China, the Pastuns in Pakistan and Afghanistan. I pray for Pastor Hanook in Pakistan, my wife, my son David and others, but I suspect most of this are prayers stored in heaven to be poured out later (Rev. 8:3)

Tonikaku (anyway) here I am on my birthday eating my cake by myself. I'm not sure how much the Lord likes cake.

Still looking unto Jesus,

                                          bill

Leaving the Air Force

24 May 2015

Dear Phyllis,

In October of 1961 I was coming up on being in Japan for three years and was in preparation to leave the Air Force. The question was which road from here? There were two paths in front of me. One was to go back to the states, go to Bible school, get married, join a mission, and come back as a missionary. The other was to stay on in Japan as an independent missionary. I was absolutely dead locked as to which road to choose.

One Saturday, Don Hoke, the founder of the Japan Bible School. invited me over for lunch. After eating he asked what I was considering. I told him I was thinking about going to the University of Arabia (Gal. 1:17,18). He asked, “Do you know any graduates?” I replied, “Yes a couple.” “Where are they today?” “In a ditch.” “What makes you think you will be any different?” Then he said something that really rocked me. “It may be that this is the will of God for your life but it is unusual, and the burden of proof is on you to prove that this His way.” I came away from that lunch a very sober young man.

The last three months I was in the AF I was given the job as Adjutant Officer of the maintenance squadron as the ranking officer over 1000 men. That position was perfect for handling the paper work of being released from service. I filled out the form and sent it to Washington to the Secretary of the Air Force.

December came and there was no word from heaven as to where to go. I knew fundamentally I had to get a word from God. I wrote Joe Carroll and asked if there was a place in Karuizawa where I could fast and pray for a few days. He wrote back that his wife was in the hospital in Tokyo and I could stay with him. I went up to Karuizawa and began what I thought would be several days of fasting and prayer. I missed two meals and at 3:00 o'clock the first afternoon the Lord clearly spoke to me saying it was His will for me to stay in Japan. While up there Joe took me to see John Schone who had just started the TEAM language school to see if I could study Japanese there. John said they were full at the moment but there might be an opening after the 1^st of the year.

Shortly after that Ron Blough and I went up to Wakkanai on the tip of nothern Japan to see Larry Hagen. When I got back from Wakkanai there was a letter from the Sec. of the Air Force saying my request for release from the AF would be favorably considered if I would resubmit it under the provision of paragraph b rather than paragraph a of article 196. I resubmitted my application and that gave me additional time to get a Japanese visa. I had three things that had to fall in place or I would be an illegal alien in Japan – the school, my visa, and discharge from service.

The next week I was driving to Tokyo Immigration to make application for a visa. I had gone a kilo or two when I thought Ron might enjoy going with me and turned back to see Ron. No, he couldn't go but it was getting close to noon, why didn't I stay and have lunch with him? While I was eating lunch, a postman came with a letter for me. John Schone didn't know how to reach me at Yokota, but he knew that Ron and I were close and sent the letter for me to Ron saying that there was an opening in the school after the 1^st of February. I stuffed the letter in my pocket and went on to Immigration.

I got to Immigration at 5:15 just as the girl was closing the door. When she saw me she let me in and unlocked her desk to process my application. As she was filling out my application she asked who was my sponsor in Japan. I told her, “The Church of The Open Door at Yokota”. She got out a list of registered churches and I told her it was not registered a registered church. Komatta (big problem)! It was 5:30. I had to get that application in or I would be out of service with no visa, but no sponsor. Then she asked, “What do you plan to do?” “Study Japanese.” “Can you prove that?” I pulled out the letter that had come from John Schone hours before and I got my first visa on the strength of that letter. One huge miracle.

I heard that Joe Carroll was staying in Tokyo and wanted to talk with him. One evening I drove to where he was staying. As I pulled up in front of the house another car pulled up in the opposite direction. We both got out of our cars at the same time. It was Joe. We walked in the house together and Joe said to me, “I am getting getting back from my son's funeral.” Mabel lost their first son in child birth. It was almost as if the Lord took one son from Joe and replaced him with me. In the years to follow I had the privilege of probably being the closest friend Joe had.

In January I went up to Karuizawa one Saturday to see John Schone to see if I could find a place to live. John wasn't home but he was at Takahashis Bethel House having a meeting. I went down to Bethel House to see John. The meeting was over and John and I talked about various possibilities for a place to live. Then John suggested, “You might be able to stay here”. He went in the kitchen to talk with the Takahashis and came back saying, they had a room and I could live with them. That was the best place in town.

As it turned out my visa for Japan came on the 2^nd of February and I was discharged on the 7^th– all within five days. I was discharged from the AF at Yokota on Friday, went to Karuizawa on Saturday, and started language study on Monday. That was the clearest confirmation of guidance I have ever had. Mark 16:20 says, “They went forth and preached everywhere; the Lord working with them and confirming the word with signs following.” Basically that has been pretty much the way my life has gone. I have got to get a word from the Lord what He wants me to do. Once I launch out on that road, there usually are tremendous signs following, “This is the way of the Lord. Walk ye in it”.

Oh what a road that has been. There is no way I could have envisioned where the path would lead that night when I first said Yes to Jesus and promised to follow him. Eternity will tell of His unspeakable grace. Oh thank You, thank You, thank You, Lord Jesus.

                                                                                        bill

Glory of God

31 May 2015

Dear  Phyllis,

John 17 has got to be one of the most unique chapters in the Word of God. I know of no other place in the Bible that comes close to presenting the deepest spiritual mysteries. Jesus' opening remark sets the stage for the subjects that were to follow. “Father, the hour has come; glorify Thy Son that Thy Son may glorify Thee.” There is much here that is self-evident. Obviously, what was to happen in the next 24 hours was the entire purpose why Jesus came as a man. On two previous occasions Jesus said to His mother and, later, to His brothers, “My hour has not yet come (Jn. 2:4; 7:6). But now His hour had arrived. And to accomplish the task for which He came He would need special grace. That is why He prayed, “Glorify Thy Son that Thy Son may glorify Thee”.

But the question might be raised, “What did He mean glorify Thy Son?” What is the glory of God? Did the Father answer that prayer? When did He answer it? How did He answer it? These are profound questions that do not have easy answers. The very question, “what is the glory of God?”, is one for which that I have never heard a satisfactory explanation, nor do I think it is possible to intellectually grasp what it is.

Natural glory is readily understood. It is the gold medalist standing on the platform at the Olympics. It is the winning quarter back holding up the trophy after he has just won the Super Bowel. After a spectacular triumph, it is that moment of victory. It is accomplishment. This is the moment of glory. But what was Christ's moment of glory?

To answer that we must abandon all similarity with earthly victory and look in a different direction. It doesn't make sense, but I believe most spiritual Christians would agree that Jesus' greatest moment of glory was when He died on the Cross. Analyzing this might shed some light on the subject of spiritual glory. Jesus uses the word glory or glorify six times in this prayer. One occasion is when He said, “And the glory which Thou gavest Me I have given them (His followers) that they may be one as we are one” (Jn. 17:22).

We know that the Father has highly glorified His Son and given Him the highest place in heaven. But when the curtain is pulled back and we get a glimpse of heaven in Revelation 5 we are startled at what we see of Christ. Instead of all His power, glory, and majesty sitting on the Throne we see a Lamb that had been slaughtered. I have told you how years ago I was deeply offended by the Father when I saw that. I roared, “How insulting! Jesus is not the Lamb. He is the Lion! He is the King!” And then the Lord showed me that the Lamb is the highest symbol of power in heaven. The Lamb is the absolute Top. And the Lamb that was slain is the absolute ultimate end of submission. Submission unto death.

What is the glory of God that Jesus was praying for? I believe it is submission and obedience to the will of God. Jesus glorified the Father by His submission to the will of God. Obeying God – this is the glory of God. Later in the breakfast by the sea, Jesus spoke of Peter's death, how he should glorify God (Jn. 21:19). The worlds index of glory is achievement, but in the Kingdom of God glory is submission. This also explains why Jesus said He has given His followers glory that they might be one. There is no way Christians will ever be one by ecumenical compromise. This can only divide. But the way Christians can be one is by mutual and total submission to the will of God. That will unite us.

One time in Karuizawa we were having an unusual church service in discussing a verse in Hebrews. There was a panel of three to give our views of that verse and then opened it up to discussion from the floor. For some unknown reason Marvin Fieldhouse attacked me from the floor with as hard remarks as you could imagine. At first I was stunned and it took a minute to collect my thoughts how to reply. Dave Hanson was on the panel and tore into Marvin. I thought this will be interesting – Marvin against a lawyer. Marvin mopped the floor with Dave. Dave wound up stammering.

Dave Hanson was the most tender hearted man God ever created. After agonizing for a week Dave went up to apologize to Marvin. Marvin came to the door and gruffly said, “What do you want?” Dave replied, “I came to apologize for the argument we had.” Marvin shook his finger in Dave's face and demanded, “You go back and write down every dirty word you have said about me, and every critical thought you have ever had against me on a sheet of paper and sign it!” And slammed the door in Dave's face. Dave died. For two weeks he couldn't sleep. We were going to get up a posse and go hang Marvin to the nearest tree. But then the Lord spoke to Dave about submitting ourselves one to another from 1 Peter 5:5. Dave dutifully wrote down every thing he could think of and signed it, “I am sorry. Please forgive me. David Hanson”. He went went up to see Marvin again. Marvin came to the door and demanded, “What do you want now?” Dave quietly replied, “Here is the paper you requested.” Marvin stood there totally nonplussed with a piece of paper in his hand.

The next day, Dave dropped in my office and sat in a chair. Then with tears pouring down his cheeks Dave said, “Bill, God has filled me with the spirit of glory. This is the most glorious day of my life”. Marvin got a piece of paper and Dave Hanson got filled with the glory of God.

You may be wondering what happened to me. A month ago I had a life altering accident on my motor bike. At first I refused to go to the hospital but lost that argument when I got forcefully taken there in an ambulance. I was sure there was nothing seriously wrong but an X-ray showed a slight crack in the ball of my upper arm bone in the shoulder socket. I still dismissed it as very minor. But when I got home the world stopped spinning. I nearly passed out walking half way up stairs. For the next 24 hours ten steps were all I could take without hitting severe exhaustion.

I assumed it was just a matter of time. All injuries will heal with time, and I was more or less correct. Everyday I did get better. After two weeks I decided it was time to start an exercise program and began swinging my arm in a pendulum 90 degree ark. It actually felt good to do it. But then my arm went into recession, swelled up, and my hand turned black. I suspected there might be something wrong. The consensus of everyone was – go to the hospital – NOW. It seemed pretty apparent that the problem was internal bleeding and an X-ray would not stop the bleeding. I suspected it had something to do with tendons in the shoulder, but I couldn't imagine any therapy to help, that but surgery. Financially that was out of the question.

As I was praying about this dilemma the verse came to me, “No man has ever yet hated his flesh but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the Church” (Eph. 5:29). I thought, I have given my body to Jesus. I am part of His Body. If Eph. 5:29 is true, and obviously it is, this means that Jesus nourishes and cherishes His Body. This being true, why in the world should I ever go to a hospital? Jesus is the great Physician. That is one of His job descriptions. Rutherford wrote, “Blessed is the sickness that would summon such a tender Physician to the bedside of a patient.” That meant I was in a special dispensation of the direct care of Jesus. Why go to someone inferior and insult my Doctor?

Within a few days the swelling did go down and in time the blackness of my hand cleared up. Now it is nearly normal. But Jesus has placed me in the slow recovery category. Today I am within a day of being one month. My recovery is about 15%. I wish it was higher. Everyday the envelope gets pushed back a little further. I can't really eat with my right hand yet but I can hold a spoon. With effort I can raise my arm 10 or 15 cm (6 inches), but no further. With the bleeding stopped I should get back to exersize again soon.

Jesus has been marvelous. Praise the Lord!

                                                                                 bill