WWII Stories

Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die it

it abideth alone: but if it dies it bringeth forth much fruit. John 12:24

22 September 2019

Dear Phyllis,

Last week I was sharing with Sangha two of my favorite WW 2 testimonies. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor was on December 7, 1941. For the first five month of the war, the news was extremely bleak. The Japanese had steam rolled south taking out nearly all of Asia and appeared almost invincible. In a desperate attempt to give the Japanese a black eye the Americans devised a plan to load some B-24 bombers on an aircraft carrier and stage a one way bombing mission on Tokyo. The B-24 was a land-based plane; they could takeoff from a carrier but not land. The plan was to hit Tokyo and then fly to China for recovery. Jake DeShazer was a crewman on one of the Doolittle Raider planes. His plane never made it to the designated recovery area and they wound up parachuting in a Japanese held area in China. As a result Jake was captured by the Japanese and spent the war as a POW. But during his time as a POW Jake was wonderfully brought to Christ and returned to Japan as one of the early missionaries.

The attack on Pearl Harbor was led by Mitsuo Fuchida. He was the man who gave the famous attack order “Tora! Tora!” (Tiger. Tiger). Fortunately for Fuchida, he was badly injured at Midway that curtailed his flying career and he spent most of the remaining time of the war as a high level staff officer in Tokyo. Undoubtedly that saved his life. At the end of the war Fuchida returned to his home in Nora and became a farmer trying to raise a little food to feed his family.

Like the famous Nuremberg war trials in Germany, MacArthur had trials for Japanese who had committed such horrendous atrocities during the war. Fuchida was furious with these trials and was sure the Americans were equally guilty of the same atrocities. It was wrong for the pot to call the kettle black. One day he saw in a newspaper where a fiend of his, who had been shot down, and held as a POW by the Americans, was returning to Japan. Fuchida went to Yokohama to see his friend to confirm that the Americans treated their POWs the same as the Japanese. His friend told him that being a POW was not like being at Holiday Inn but there was an amazing young American girl who had a deep love for Japanese POWs; who frequently visited and helped them. She had been the daughter of some missionaries in the Philippines. Her parents had gotten her out but stayed behind to continue their missionary work. They had been captured by the Japanese soldiers and executed, but their dying words were praying for the Japanese soldiers. When Peggy heard of her parents dying prayer, she decided to spend her life trying to win Japanese to Christ; and had spent most of the war working with Japanese POWs in Colorado.

Fuchida was stunned by the testimony of this girl whose parents had been murdered by Japanese soldiers, but she had given her life to show the love of Christ to the men of that same army that killed her parents. What in the world kind of a power is this that would produce that kind of a human?

Some time after that, Fuchida was walking past the Shibuya train station and saw an American standing in front of the eki passing out tracts that said “I was a Japanese POW”. That titles gripped his heart. My goodness, this is the same thing! Here was a man who was badly treated as a POW. But Jesus had changed his heart so that he returned to Japan to tell others about the love of God. Fuchida was able to acquire a New Testament and shortly thereafter met the same Jesus that Peggy Covell and Jake DeShazer were talking about. This same Jesus transformed the heart of this warrior, who led the attack on Pearl Harbor, into am equally passionate warrior for Christ. Fuchida spent the rest of his life as a gifted evangelist traveling around Japan and several years in the US winning thousands to Christ.

As I was telling Sangha about Fuchida, and Jake DeShazer and Peggy Covell, my mind went back to her parents in the Philippines. Little did they realize the incalculable fruit that would come from their testimony being killed so early in life. Had they lived to spend 50 years as devoted missionaries in the Philippines they never could have produced such abundant harvest for Christ in Japan and the USA as what came from their dying prayer. They got one of the finest jewels of the war.

Along with Fuchida, I also told Sangha another Jake DeShazer story that I personally knew. We all know about the famous Japanese kamikaze pilots who crashed their planes into ships, but I never knew that the Japanese also had suicide torpedoes that they launched from submarines to strike American ships. I knew a man serving the Lord with Japan Mission who had been one of those suicide torpedoes; but the war was over before he had his chance. Sasagawa san was bitter that he had been deprived the opportunity to be a suicide torpedo and give his life for the emperor. But then one day he saw a notice that there was an American coming to his town for some public meetings. Sasagawa's passion in life was to kill at least one American and saw this as his opportunity. He went there for the sole purpose of killing the speaker. But he was stunned when he heard Jake DeShazer tell how his goal in life was to kill Japanese and he had been a gunner on a Doolittle Raider bomber. He had been captured and spent three years as a prisoner of war, but met Jesus who had changed his heart. Sasagawa was stunned when he heard Jake apologize for shooting at a man (fortunately he missed) and the hard feelings he had for them, But now Jesus had changed his heart so he came back to tell them about the love of God. Sasagawa was saved that night and wound up working with Japan Mission.

The Covells died and the seed fell in the ground. For Jake DeShazer, he spent 40 years as a missionary in Japan. Jake gave his life in a different way but the fruit of leaving all to tell the Japanese about Jesus, bore much fruit. Jake never met the Covells, but in heaven they stand together and share equal fruit in winning one the top Japanese officers who won thousands to Christ. Let these testimonies be an encouragement to anyone who is a nobody in an insignificant place. It doesn't matter where the ground is, all seed that gets in the ground will bear fruit.

Changing the subject: a week ago I was sitting at school talking with Sangha when I got something in my eye. It felt for all the world like a piece of saw dust. Having spent 70 years with showers of saw dust in my face I am well familiar with that discomfort. The more I rubbed it the worse it became. Naka naka (that is Japanese) I couldn't get that thing out of my eye. Sangha put an eye patch on my eye that seemed to help slightly. When I got home it was so uncomfortable, I didn't feel like working, and laid down for an hour. I finally forced myself to get up, take the eye patch off, and do some work in my shop. I never had anything quite like that in my life where I couldn't get a foreign object out of my eye. The problem was in my left eye where I have cancer, and, as it didn't seem to move, I thought maybe it was a pimple or something in the eye lid that was irritating the eye ball. It was so bad when I went to bed I decided that I would go straight to the hospital in the morning and have a doctor look at it. My daily meetings with Jesus have been pretty dry in recent days, and, when I went to bed that night, it was with insulting unbelief that I asked Jesus that He might fix my eye. At first it didn't seem possible, but, when I woke up the next morning I was amazed that my eye was completely normal. I consider that miracle as great as healing the malignant tumor. Six months have past since my eye closed down. It has been four months since the doctor told me it was malignant, and two months since I have been on a special diet and taking cannabis oil medicine. Nothing has changed. It hasn't gotten any better, but neither has it gotten any worse. Oh it is good serving Jesus.

                           bill

Bill's Planned Suicide

15 September 2019

Dear Phyllis,

I have found my senior years has given me a wonderful perspective to look back on my early years with a considerable degree of objectivity to see life in a much different view than when I was going through it. This past week I was reminiscing about a man who was probably more singularly responsible for saving my life than at other individual. I can't recall his name, but without his miraculous intervention it I doubtful that I would have lived to see my 21^st birthday. Obviously, God had His hand on my life before I was saved.

I had the privilege of a good background. As an unsaved family we were a cut above average. My father had his own accounting firm and we were considered wealthy in our small town in Pennsylvania. My parents were as good as any except that my mother worked with my dad in his office and I was more or less raised by my grandmother and a house maid. My mother made the mistake of trying to compensate material objects for the maternal time she should have spent with me. As a result I can't remember a time when I didn't have anything I wanted. I had a horse, a car, and a professional work shop from my early years. When I was in 7^th grade, and had my first shop class, I had more tools than my teacher. The two things that dominated my early life were my horse and wood shop. I was very much a loner with few friends and, spent most of my time on my horse or in my shop.

My father was an intelligent man and my sister was valedictorian of her class, but I was slightly above average student. My father had graduated from the University of Michigan, and from my early years I had no though of going any other place than Michigan. Being born with a hammer in my hand, and my deep love for wood, I intended to spend my life working with wood, and elected to go into the unusual field of Wood Technology. When I was at Michigan there were 25,000 students and only 8 of us were in the Wood Technology department. Michigan was one of the best schools in America in that field, but in retrospect I believe that was a bad mistake going there. Michigan is a very high level school and I was badly out of my class in Michigan. I loved Michigan and loved my field but I was a very poor student and always on the ragged edge of flunking out.

There was a gorgeous girl that was a secretary in the office of my department that all the boys were gunning for. I wanted to be a ladies man but I was a bad washout with the girls. I fell in love with June Anderson but I knew I had no chance in competing with so many other pursuing man. I knew I needed divine help, and asked the pastor of the church I attended for counseling.

My mother was very religious and I was raised going to church. We were very good liberals and knew that all religions were the same. It didn't matter what you believed if you were only sincere. Of course we knew the Bible wasn't true and I had never heard the word salvation. The church I attended at Michigan was strongly liberal and the pastor was a fierce opponent to conservative Christianity. Amen, that is what I believe and loved it. The church was a large Presbyterian church and the pastor was a dynamic man and and excellent speaker. There were a number of assistant pastors, and when I asked for pastoral counseling, I got assigned to one of the lesser men. The day of my first session I told him flat out I wanted to know how do you make deals with God? What do you have to do to get God to do something for you? Go to church every Sunday? Join the church, sing in the choir? Give money? Be a holy man? What do you have to do to make a deal with God? Had it been a satanist church I would have made a deal with the devil. For six months or more I really gave it my best shot. I became a very earnest Christian (unsaved), and desperately prayed that God would give me that girl. She liked me very much, but she married a friend of mine.

My last year at Michigan was one of the worst years of my life. It seemed that God was my enemy. The thing where I tried to do my best, and the thing that I wanted more than anything else, always turned against me. Everything I touched turned to mud. Depression set in and thoughts of suicide were constantly with me. But how could I kill myself? I was taking a course of chemistry and we were handling some extremely dangerous chemicals. One night I was alone in the laboratory and stole a test tube of phenol crystals. For months I carried three things in my pocket; my car keys, loose change, and my phenol crystals. I was extremely close to the morning when I would wake up and decide that today is the day to end it all.

I have no idea how it happened, but one day the assistant pastor of my church was driving down the road and thought, “It has been a long time since I have seen Bill Cook.” I had moved since the last time I had seen him, but miraculously he knocked at my door in the boarding house where I was living. We talked for well over an hour and I shared with him my plans to end it all. He suggested, “Don't you think you might be jumping for the pan to the fire?” “I don't care. Nothing could be worse than this.” Then he said, “I am a pastor. Would you like me to pray for you?” For the first time in my life I was terrified. I desperately didn't want him to pray but I was terrified if he didn't. I said, “I don't care. Do what you want.” “No I am going to make you make that decision.” That was the most critical moment of my life. Finally I blurted out, “Well do something but get out of here”. I have no idea whether or not he was a saved man. Maybe not. I have no idea what He prayed, but as he prayed God broke my heart. I was sobbing so hard I couldn't hear. We shook hands at the door and I went straight to the bath room to flush my phenol crystals down the toilet.

That life-saving event took place about a week short of the end of the school year. That summer I had Air Force ROTC summer camp. I showed up at Lockbourn AFB with a huge chip on my shoulder, but at the end of that summer camp it was a very chasten young man who hung around to ask the drill officer what went wrong. In retrospect I have always been amazed at the grace that officer was able to share with me my defective character and my ability to take it. That was a pivotal moment of my life. I realized I had serious problems that a piece of paper was not going to help. Rather than returning to Michigan to finish my education I opted to go into the Air Force Aviation Cadet Corps to go through pilot training the hard way with severe military discipline.

I loved it. The training was unbelievably difficult, but I was more in my element with fellow cadets than high academic atmosphere at Michigan. The Air Force wanted pilots – not PHDs. I had only been in service six months when I met two outstanding young men who were totally committed, witnessing, Christians. I say these were the first Christians I had ever met. In retrospect I see now there were others but these two fellows were different, and they introduced me to a Christian society that I never knew existed. I'm sure I have told you the details of my conversion many times before, but it certainly was non-typical. Usually there is some crisis that drives people to Jesus. In my case it was the opposite. I was at an all-time high in life. I was doing well in one of the most elite, prestigious, organizations in the military. I had no pressing problems. I had no conviction of sin. There was nothing that I really needed, but I was challenged by the suggestion that it was possible for a man to know God, and Johnny Gilman told me that Jesus would change my life if I would let Him. I had never heard of such a thing. As I pondered the possibility of having a new life, my mind went back to that dark moment in Michigan. I was fine right now but I knew it wouldn't last and then what? You know the rest of that story. Thank God, Gilman was right, and Jesus did infinitely more than anything I could possibly imagine. Had it not been for that minor, assistant pastor thinking, “It has been a long time since I have spoken to Bill Cook”; and knocking on my door, it is highly unlikely that I would be writing this letter today. Thank the Lord.

                                            bill

Song of Solomon

8 September 2019

Dear Phyllis,

There are three verses in Song of Solomon that appear to be identical, and yet there is a subtle progression that I feel is one of the most graphic indication of spiritual maturity in the Bible (S. of S. 2:16; 6:3; 7:10). I have written to you about this several times but I never get away from it. Last week the Lord reminded me of this so powerfully that I was right on the limit of what I could physically handle.

The first verse says “My Beloved is mine and I am His”. For someone just saved this is the most wonderful news possible. We all love to sing, “Blessed assurance Jesus is mine”. Man howdy, that is good news! I remember talking to a Catholic man one night in the states about Jesus. He was the husband of Rosemary's room mate in the hospital in Syracuse. I had just shared with him a few things that Jesus had done for me. He looked at me with the most longing eyes and said, “If I had a God like that I wouldn't have a worry in the world”. I had never realized what an unusual treasure I had in having Jesus as my savior. You talk about blessed assurance. It doesn't get much better than to know you have a personal relationship with Jesus as your savior, provider, protector, everything. For years that thrilled me.

And then I noticed that the Song goes one note higher when it says, “I am His and He is mine”. That just raised value of the transaction by 10 to the power of 10. It is wonderful to be able to say “Jesus is Mine”, but it is infinitely more wonderful to be able to say “I am His”. Here we have not only the ownership reversed but the responsibility changed. If I am the owner then the responsibility of holding on to my possession is on my side. But if the ownership is on the Lord's side then He is the One to keep His grip on me. If I am responsible for hanging on to Jesus, in my foolishness and frequent distractions I might loose my grip on Him. But if He is the One hanging onto me, I suspect His grip is more secure than mine.

How little do we realize that it is not that we love God, but that He first loved us and sent His Son to seek and save us (1 Jn. 4:10). Dear Nelly Pavlok, a wonderful sister from Russia, used to say, “I didn't find the Lord, He found me. I was the one who was lost”. We weren't the ones who sought Jesus, but Jesus was the One who was seeking us. You can measure my love for the Lord by teaspoons, but to measure the Lord's love for us would require the ocean. His seeking us was far more intense than our seeking Him, and His delight in His possession is infinitely more intense than ours. I used to preach 1 Cor. 6:19, 20 as an incentive to service: “Ye are not your own. For ye were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body and spirit which are God's”, but now I see that as an assurance of His possession. It is a fact that Jesus has bought us. He paid a very dear price for us – His own Blood. If Jesus paid that dear price for us it is highly likely that He is going to keep a good grip on His possession. It was a happy day when I could say with firm assurance Christ was mine, but it is infinitely more joyous to say today “I am His”. If my salvation was dependent on my grip on Christ, I am in bad shape. I would lose my grip on Him in ten minutes, but if I realize my relationship with Jesus is resting on the fact that I am His - and He is highly responsible over His own possession - this gives great peace, joy, and assurance.

One illustration that Jesus gave us on this subject is the parable of the 99 and 1 (Lk. 15:4-7). If the Lord thinks that much about one lost lamb, that He will leave the 99 to go look for the lost one, that gives great assurance to the other 99. The knowledge that I am His brings me vastly more satisfaction and joy than knowing that I have Jesus.

When I first got saved I thought the Lord must be pleased that He had such an outstanding man as a follower. But then as the Lord began to open my eyes, I thought He had made a terrible mistake. For a couple of years I thought I had chosen Jesus but then I learned, that it was not that I had chosen Him but He chose me (Jn. 15;16). When I realized that I was bewildered why Jesus should go to the end of the line of unqualified candidates and lay His Hand on the most unlikely one of the lot. But oh what joy! What an honor! When I was a kid and we would choose up sides to play a game, we would always get the two best boys to be team captains and they would choose their team. I was always greatly honored when the best man would say, “I'll take Bill”. That He choose us; if that doesn't make the joy bells ring I don't know what would. Ruth was just a poor foreign widow until Boaz purchased her to be his wife (Ruth 4:10). Man howdy, did her fortune turn around after that. What a privilege to be the wife of Boaz!

The cap stone of this series in Song of Sol. is chapter 7 verse 10 – “I am my Beloved's and His desire is towards me”. There is no mention of what I have here. The believer is lost in the knowledge that she belongs to Jesus and His desire is towards her. Intellectually I can acknowledge this, but spiritually I have never come to that point. In his gospel of Christ, John is unique in that he never mentions his own name once. But from chapter 13 on John uses an unusual personal identification in referring to himself as “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (Jn. 13:23; 19:26; 20:2; 21:7,20). To know that Jesus loved him was the most wonderful thing in John's life. We teach little children to sing, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so”. Anyone who has been saved over six months should know that. But when the spiritual reality of that seeps into a darkened heart, that should blow our mind. Spiritually I haven't come that far yet. It is the joy of my life to know that I belong to Jesus, but, knowing a little of the depravity of my wicked heart (Jer. 17:9), throws a veil over my eyes making it difficult for me to see the inner nature of the heart of Christ. Zephaniah told us an amazing thing about the heart of God when he wrote, “The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, He will save, He will rejoice over thee with joy, He will rest in His love, He will joy over thee with singing” (Zeph. 3:17). I can acknowledge with my mind that this is true, but to let the depths of that truth to seep deeply in my frozen heart is difficult. But when it does, the heart melts and tears flow.

In the first two verses of this series discussing respective possession, this is followed by the remark that Jesus is “feeding among the lilies”. We know from S. of S. 2:1.2 that a Christian is a lily. We find Jesus' present activity is feeding in Christian fellowships. Jesus promised that when two or three of His followers were gathered in His Name He would grace that fellowship with His presence. Praise God this is true. I am not sure what the verb “feeding” means. In English and Hebrew it has two meanings. It could mean feeding a baby, or it could mean eating yourself. In Ezek. 34:2, we see the Lord rebuking the shepherds of Israel for feeding themselves and not feeding the flock. In S. of S. we see the believer pleading “Let my Beloved come into His garden and eat His pleasant fruit”. Where the real Body of Christ is gathered that must bring real satisfaction to Jesus.

But in 7:10 we see the emphasis is not so much over the cooperate Body of Christ as it is over the personal relationship. Here it says “His desire is towards ME”. If that doesn't sum up everything in life I don't know what does. It is one thing to know that I am saved, but it is far more wonderful to know that I belong to Jesus. But then to think His desire might be towards me. Gomen Phyllis, that one just goes out of sight. We see this dimly here but what will it be when the Wedding day comes and we see Him as He is. Imagination fails me, but I suspect I will be pretty good.

Oh Lord, open my dim eyes and let me see a little more of the reality of Your heart. For Jesus sake.

                 bill

Bill's Arest Stories

1 September 2019

Dear Phyllis,

Coming to SEA (Southeast Asia) has been one of the great privileges of my life. I dearly love Japan, but in SEA the Lord has given me a unique life, fuller than any other place I know. Things I have done here are impossible elsewhere. I have been arrested four times and each time has been a unique blessing. Jesus told us that when we are arrested not to think before hand how we are going to handle it, because the words will only come at that time; and then it is the Holy Spirit speaking – not us (Mk. 13:11). I have found this to be true. After being arrested and interrogated I have always come away with the feeling that I was at a meeting and made a new friend.

It is a known psychological phenomenon that a uniform will radically change the perception of anyone looking at him. To a beholder, a policeman in uniform is much different than the man you would see in sport clothes. If we can take the uniform off a man, we find an ordinary person inside.. Being a prisoner gives you a unique relation with prison guards. When I was in Russia my favorite place in town was the KGB office. Three years before then the KGB was one of the most terrifying places on earth. Millions of people went in there and never came out. But now school is out and I found most KGB men congenial and fun to joke with.

My first experience with incarceration gave me a unique relationship with the secret police in Salavan, Laos. It was only briefly and I was held in house arrest in the guest house where I was staying. While I waited for interrogation they kept banks of secret policemen with me. They were very interested in me and I enjoyed talking with them. I have written you about my interrogation before. I expected to be tortured or worse, but it was just a lot of fun. The main interrogator started out like a lion on a charge.. He roared, “You're a Christian!” I roared right back, “Of course I am a Christian, Why don't you become one?” He absolutely withered away. At first he was speechless, and then he cautiously asked, “Do you have any more books (tracts) left?” “I'm sorry I am slam out of them, but I can get you some more” It was really amusing. There were about six or seven secret policemen to interrogate me, but they all seemed genuinely intimidated of me. I told you the next time I was in Salavan, when the main interrogator saw me he hugged me.

The second time I was busted was in Montei in the northwest corner of Vietnam. The first night we were held in a remote army post on a mountain. Escape was impossible and they gave us the run of the place. I saw the gun rack and picked up an AK47. I asked the guard, “Are you a good shot?” He was a little shy and replied, “No I am pretty poor.” That night one of the soldiers had a guitar, and Sogei, the Lahu boy who was with us, was a very good guitarist. Half a dozen soldiers were there with the three of us, and we had a great time singing Christian praise songs. We became such fast friends with them that some soldiers wanted to get out of service and come to Thailand to visit us.. All my life, North Vietnamese soldiers were the enemy to be killed. Now these guys were just ordinary young men that you really enjoyed as a friend.

The camp commander was the only guy in that army post that I couldn't penetrate. He was just one tough, hard communist Vietnamese officer. As we were leaving the Holy Spirit filled me and I gave him a big hug. Mark was behind me and followed suit by hugging him. When we went about 30 feet down the hill I turned around to wave. He stood there beaming like a strobe light. That might have been the first time in years that anyone had hugged him..

The third time I got busted was crossing the border into Cambodia. They took us to the police headquarters. The chief of police might have been a Khmer Rouge. He was one of the meanest men I have ever met. But the policeman who stopped us at the border, was so polite he apologized for arresting us. I told him, “Your only problem is that you are a good man doing what you are supposed to do.” He pleaded with me, “Please come home with me for supper. I want my wife to meet you.”

When I was in Phenom Penh, I went to a Christian book store to buy a Bible for him. The girl who waited on me asked, “What translation do you want?” I looked at her sternly like a harsh policeman, and demanded, “Are you a Christian?” Timidly she replied, “Yes, I am.” “When were you saved?” “Four years ago.” “Has there been much of a change in your life since being saved?” “I used to hate my father, but now the Lord has given me a love for him.” At this my heart melted and said, “Oh. Sister, you are beautiful! What translation do you have?” She picked up a Bible, and I said, “I'll take that one.” On my way back to Thailand I stopped at the police station in Poipet to give the Bible to my friend. These are all men that you would like to have for a neighbor. These are relationships that you couldn't have any other way.

The forth time I was busted was going down river in the Mekong to go into Vietnam. Mark heard that they had opened up a new route going into Vietnam from Cambodia, and wanted me to try it. I should have known better. I knew I was black-listed in Vietnam. But there used to be a border crossing into Vietnam from Phenom Penh that didn't have a computer. A some people had been able to get into Vietnam while still black-listed. One brilliant guy got into Vietnam that way and then tried to fly back. Of course they had computers at the airport and that caused a problem for all of us. But Mark wanted me to try this new Mekong route.

I got on a boat in Phenom Penh with about 20-25 backpackers to head down the Mekong River. After going for an hour or more we came to the Cambodian Immigration point. The leader of this tourist boat took our passports to Immigration and got us stamped out of Cambodia. Then we went about another kilo or two down river to check into Vietnam. Again, we all got off and waited at a small shop while the boat man took our passports to check us into Vietnam. After waiting far longer than we should have I suspected a problem, Yappari (just as I thought), he came back and said the immigration officials wanted to talk to me. When I walked in there and saw those computers I knew I was in deep trouble. They appeared very fierce. Steve Palato, the best man in Laos, had told me, “When you get arrested tell them more than they want to hear. That will stop the inquiry. If you try to be clever that arouses them and promotes more intense interrogation”. My backpack was laying on the floor and they demanded, “What is in your backpack?” I picked it up and dumped everything in it on the floor. I said, “Look, I am loaded with Bibles that I am going to take to Saigon and give them to another man at Kim's cafe.” Amazingly that was the end of the interrogation and they never asked another question. But their English was very poor and they had to call in a civilian interpreter. When he showed up I started to explain to him what a Bible was. He honestly looked at me and said, “My father was a pastor and I was raised in a Christian home.” I told him, “This is amazing that the Lord has sent me here to encourage you to follow Jesus.” Later when I got back to Chiang Mai I was amazed to receive an email from him.

There were no charges against me but I was in bad shape stranded there in the middle of nowhere, blocked from going on but checked out of Cambodia. One of the customs official took me on his motor bike through the jungle back to the Cambodian side, Immigration was closed, so he took me to the head mans house who checked me back into Cambodia, Then they called for a special small boat to take me back to Phenom Penh. When I hugged and thanked the guard who had done so much for me we were almost in tears parting.

These are truly unusual blessings that would be impossible in Japan or the states. What a unique opportunity to experience Jesus being with me in a way you don't know going shopping at home.

Thank You, Lord,

bill

PS: On a different subject, yesterday, as we were driving into town to go shopping, suddenly I realized I could see unusually well. I closed my right eye and was amazed that for the first time in four months I could open my left eye enough to see 80%.