Summer 1978
"What Do You Hold In Your Hand?"
(Exodus 4:2)
What do you hold in your hand today?
To whom or to what are you bound?
Are you willing to give it to God right now?
Give it up, let it go, throw it down!
Through blinded eyes I searched frantically in my purse for a handkerchief and ended up embarrassingly catching my tears with the back of my hand. High up front on the platform, Pat Taylor was singing Moses, a sermon in song written by the blind composer, Ken Medema.
It was June, 1978 — a little less than two years from the time we had embarked alone on this great adventure. As I listened, I relived with Moses that helpless sense of loneliness in a job that was just too great. And with Moses, I again dedicated the little we had in our hands to His use, for His purposes, for Him to somehow multiply to fit that awesome need.
For a long time I had been trying to write the story of the early days of the U.S. Center for World Mission. I felt very
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inadequate for the job, having published only one or two articles. But because there was no one else to do it, no one else who had been with us from the very beginning of the project, the task was left to me.
So I had turned my "rod" — my pen — over to God, asking that somehow I would be able to tell the wonders He had done in our midst, hoping thereby to bring glory to His name. In writing, I had again walked in memory around the campus, climbed the heights of victory and wept in the valleys of despair.
By June, 1978, the book was almost done, but the memories were still fresh. And listening to Pat sing, I felt related to Moses in a new, painful, yet joyous way. We too had stood on holy ground. We too had heard the "voice" speaking to us. We too had turned over our own inadequacies to God and had seen Him use them to work His miracles.
The book returned from the printer barely six weeks before our $650,000 was due. At that date we had only $30,000 toward that payment. But we had repaid the loans we owed, helped greatly by Campus Crusade, which had made $60,000 of their loan a gift.
When the book arrived, we sent copies out across the country almost immediately, first laying hands on them and praying that God would use them. So much depended on them. They were the only detailed explanation of our hopes and dreams.
"Is it too long?" I fretted. "Will people bother to read it? Why didn't I finish it sooner? There is so little time before our payment is due. Oh, dear God! Please use it!" In spite of the fact that I was a first-time author, I had several hopes for that book. I hoped that as people read it, God would touch their hearts and they would respond to our need. I prayed that those struggling with faith would, through our story, be reassured that their heavenly Father always provides for His children who dare to trust Him. And I prayed that maybe, somewhere, someone far from the Lord — perhaps even one
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of the cult members across the street — would pick up my book and be attracted to the Christ of whom it spoke and come to know Him. I well knew what a flimsy tool it was. Yet I had done my best. God would have to make it adequate for His purposes.
We had another tool, equally unlikely, equally flimsy. It was our "grapevine" letter.
Ever since adopting the one-time, small gift plan, we had known that our biggest problem would be getting in touch with a million people. We knew our approach was too unorthodox for most people. In fact, we were a bit embarrassed when one of our friends reported that at a conference of professional Christian fund raisers, our small, one-time gift approach was used as a classic example of "how not to do it." Humbling!
We never claimed that our way was the only way, nor the easiest way, nor even the best. We merely felt that it was God's way for us at that time. More important than getting the money we needed was for us to inspire hope and spread vision. We could not be satisfied until American Christians by the hundreds of thousands responded to the challenge of the final frontiers.
"How can fifteen people ever reach a million?" Ralph wondered. "Somehow we must depend on the good will of others all across the country to help us. But how?"
We did a lot of praying and thinking before Bob Coleman suggested a pass-on-able letter — the "grapevine" letter. We knew that it had to be short and readable, yet say enough to give confidence and motivate its readers to make an immediate response. We also reasoned that it had to be printed in black ink so that those at a distance could photocopy it on their own and send it to their friends. Also it had to allow space for a personal note at the top.
In July, Ralph was invited to speak to a large gathering of the evangelical wing of the Yearly Meeting of Friends. They were meeting in Denver, and I was invited to go along.
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We took with us a few boxes of my book, plus a stack of the newly-printed grapevine letters.
It was very warm in the gymnasium where they met. But our hearts rejoiced when we found so many of these wonderful people eager to help us. It couldn't have been more than a week or two later before the mail started flowing in from Oregon. Each letter had a check for $15.95. (Our instructions had suggested a gift of $15 plus an additional $.95 to cover the costs of mailing back a copy of my book, the Hidden People's pie chart, and a six-month subscription to our monthly bulletin, Mission Frontiers.)
We must have received at least a thousand letters from Oregon alone. We found out later that Norvall Hadley, the superintendent of the Northwest Meeting of Friends at that time, had printed enough copies of the grapevine letter for all the members of every congregation in his district. What wonderful people! How we thanked the Lord for them!
About the same time, Dr. Donald McGavran, perhaps the foremost missionary strategist in the world today and a dear friend of ours, at his own expense, sent out a letter similar to ours. This one asked missionary subscribers to the Church Growth Bulletin, which he edited, to request each of their prayer supporters to send the Center $15.95.
This request was so unusual that one lady, who regularly sent out the prayer letter of a Worldwide Evangelization Crusade missionary, decided she should check us out. She lived just a few miles away but had never heard of the U.S. Center for World Mission. And, she later admitted, she was frankly a bit annoyed at Dr. McGavran's suggestion.
When she visited us, she wasn't one bit impressed . . . at first. Our building was unpretentious, and the furnishings old and a bit shabby. Our receptionist seemed very young. Tricia, our youngest daughter, was newly graduated from high school and, as the receptionist, was alone in the front lobby.
Tricia started to talk with her. She showed her our literature, explained our purposes, spoke of our dreams, and
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asked for her prayers. I crossed the lobby just as Tricia thrust my book into our visitor's hands, saying, "Oh, before you read the other literature, you ought to read this book. It explains us better than anything else."
The next morning, in the middle of our staff prayer time, Tricia was called to the phone. She returned beaming. "That was Mary," she said. "You know, the lady that was asking all those questions yesterday?
"Well, guess what! She's already called the headquarters of Worldwide Evangelization Crusade. They told her she could send a letter to more than just this one missionary's supporters. They're sending her a large list today. And she will personally pay the postage if we will do the mailing. She's on her way right now with a draft of her letter and $500 check!"
Some of the missionaries who received Dr. McGavran's letter complained that we asked too little. "God is not honored when there is no sacrifice," they observed, and backed up their words with $1000 checks. Many other checks also poured in, no doubt the result of Mary and the WEC's generosity.
God also gave us another tool — a film called Penetrating the Last Frontiers. It was narrated by Pat Boone and explained our vision beautifully! That film, too, was a miracle. It had been conceived by three business friends in Oregon and produced almost without any effort or expense on our part. Dale Kietzman wrote the script and a professional filmed it, but they were at a loss for someone to do the narration. Once more we asked for Pat Boone's help. He had only ten days between trips, but he volunteered a number of hours to help with the film.
Several copies were made and shown all over the country. The first showing was only a month before September 1st at a Nazarene church close to the campus. As before, the cult sent a contingent of six or eight of their top staff. I worried that they would publicly object to what we had said
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about them, and prayed hard as I watched. Aside from a few mechanical difficulties, however, all went well, and we praised the Lord.
A film, a grapevine letter, a book: as fund-raising tools, they weren't much. But God blessed them, and hundreds of people used them to help us.
Ralph's father, 83 years old at that time, took three copies of the book to the retirement center where he lived and circulated them, asking every three days if the person "borrowing" his copy was through. "They can't just put the book down and forget about it if it's borrowed," he told us with a smile. Every week he brought in another stack of checks from his friends.
Mission Aviation Fellowship, Bill Bright of Campus Crusade, Jack Hayford of Church on the Way, World Opportunities, Young Life — they all lent a hand to help us make the payment. Some sent out our grapevine letters. Bill Bright and Jack Hayford gave out thousands of copies of my book and asked those reading it to send us $16 or to mail out grapevine letters. Hundreds responded.
Many churches quickly booked the film to show in Sunday school classes, prayer meetings, Bible studies, evening services, and even some morning services. Some sent in offerings they had collected. Others urged their members to each send us $15.95, immediately.
Those on staff were as busy as ever. Yet in a strange way, it was as if we were standing still, watching while God worked. What we had to use had seemed so inadequate, so flimsy by fund raisers' standards. Yet they were our only "rods," and we had committed them to God
I remember thinking that if He could part the Red Sea with a shepherd's crook, if He could kill a giant with a boy's slingshot and a pebble, if He could feed 5,000 with five loaves and two fish — then wasn't it just possible that in His hands what we had would be enough? We could only trust and pray.
