October - November 1984
"I Want You To Trust Me ..."
"Ralph, your money raising ideas have obviously failed — every one of them! It's time the Board took over and did things in the usual way!"
From the beginning, that October Board meeting was very painful for us. For several weeks we had been waiting for the arrival of the notice of legal foreclosure. We dreaded it, and yet we hoped that it just might rally our supporters to help us pay off, once and for all, the balance still due on the campus proper. The risk was terrible — but we knew no other option. We had done our very best!
But these words from a member of our Board really hurt. "Is it failure," I wondered, "to have raised six and a half million dollars in eight years? Most boards would not think so! Especially when starting from zero!" But we had noticed that God's many miracles, though reassuring to our faith, sometimes made those accustomed to more traditional methods of financing a bit uneasy.
The fact is, Ralph's "money raising ideas" were really vision-spreading ideas, and in terms of their primary purpose had been immensely successful. But to those for whom the
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purchase of the campus was most important, to waste our time on "vision-spreading" ideas when we needed money seemed most foolish.
To a great extent, however, the entire future of the Center hinged on this dichotomy. To accomplish what God had called us to do, we had to have the friendship and cooperation of the other mission agencies. Many, we knew, employ no money raising ideas at all. We could not place ourselves in a situation where we would tempt away their donors. Nor could we abandon our vision-spreading to secure the campus. Somehow we had to do both at the same time. That was why every plan we had followed involved both spreading the vision and raising money in a way that would not jeopardize other agencies.
We had to admit, however, that we were now facing imminent foreclosure, when we could lose everything God had given us. This member of the Board had every right to be concerned. But just what would he suggest we do?
"If we move quickly enough, he insisted, "we can sell off a number of the houses, build condominiums which will bring in higher rent, and save the campus that way."
Ralph sat there appalled. It was not as though he had not thought about the need for rebuilding and replacing the many substandard houses. The 84 separate properties encircling the campus were readily salable (compared to campus buildings). And once we owned them outright, we could quite easily borrow against them and invest that money in redevelopment that would genuinely increase the overall value of this housing. Ralph had realized that before we had ever set foot on the campus.
But there was an ominous message behind this proposal. The money that would be "raised" by selling houses would actually be spent on paying our debts. If most of the houses were sold and the balloon payment made, what was left over would be so small that we could have to borrow a great deal more from a bank in order to do any redevelopment. Even if
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we sold all the houses, that money alone would not pay the remaining balance on the campus proper.
Worse yet, by selling these houses, we would lose the rental income on which we depended for operating funds. Unless we owned them outright, any redevelopment scheme would inevitably involve us in another debt which it would take at least fifteen years to pay off before we could begin to collect any real income from that improved property.
In the meantime, how could we operate without that income? We had a lot of work to do. We could not keep on raising funds forever and at the same time move forward decisively in the work God had given us to do. We needed not only the campus but all the houses fully paid off now!
To us, therefore, this proposal was actually not so much a money raising idea as a partial campus-liquidation plan. It was an attempt to deal with our debts by reducing our holdings — and in the process giving up on the original goal of a self-sustaining plant. It would mean that we would forever have to raise operational funds — and do so in competition with the very mission agencies we were professing to serve. To us, this plan seemed a disaster.
This board member, personally involved in a number of real estate deals, naturally tended to think in terms of his own expertise. He knew how to work with property on a commercial basis. But, he admitted, he knew very little about fund raising, and he had long criticized our small, one-time-gift plan.
In the area of financial considerations, however, he was very influential on the board, and before the meeting was over that day, the vote had carried. A Development Committee was named and told to start work immediately. It was directed to get estimates on all the houses, draw up plans delineating which should be sold first, hire a contractor to upgrade those houses, and start finding buyers.
This decision was like a blow to those of us who had started the Center. We could understand how the majority of
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the Board, involved in Center affairs for only one day every three or four months, could see things differently from the staff who met daily to pray over each crises. And yet we felt strongly that God had led us, step by step, even into the tight situations in which we sometimes found ourselves. As we read our Bibles, His ways with us were not all that unusual.
Nevertheless, we appreciated the sincere concern of these people. The questions they asked were the same that others, much closer, had also asked: "Do you really need all those houses? Couldn't the staff and students still live in them even if other people owned them?" But they could see the logic of Ralph's answers: "Isn't the same true of the dormitories on campus? What if someone else owned them? Couldn't the students still stay there?
"Yes, perhaps! But the major difference is that the one who owns the properties gets the rent! The average college cannot survive without both the income from their dorms and, say, another 30 percent from donations. Those houses have always functioned as college dorms, even when the Nazarenes were here. Once we own the campus and houses outright, we don't expect to have to raise another 30 percent in donations. But without at least these houses, we certainly would have to be raising money forever. They are our only planned source of income, and we need all of them for that."
Interestingly, before we made our first bid for the campus back in 1976, part of the original fleece which we laid before the Lord was that if He wanted us to proceed with the campus, He would make the Point Loma Board willing to stop selling off the houses and to hold them for us, even though we could not put a penny down on them for at least a year. For them to accept such a proposition meant a loss of capital, money that they really needed. The houses were in demand and it was to the college's benefit to sell them, one by one.
Nevertheless, they agreed to our request. Later, the elderly
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realtor on their board, who had managed the houses for the college all through the years, told Ralph privately, "You were very wise to insist that the houses be part of the package. It has always been true that the campus is simply not financially viable without them. Now whatever you do, don't fail to buy them. You simply must have them to succeed!"
Almost all our staff, especially those few who made up the minority on the board (four out of twelve), were in deep distress over the board action. All of us felt like our birthright was being sold away from us, and there was little we could do about it but pray.
We thought of all the miracles God had done for us in this place. He had so definitely led us here and in unexpected ways turned the property over to us. By a series of miracles He had brought in the $6.5 million we had already paid. Would He forsake us now? Was the only answer to sell what He had given us, houses that were not only necessary for students and staff but whose income was essential to the operation of the overall complex? Did we have to assume there would be no more miracles? Couldn't we at least wait a bit longer and give God time to act on our behalf?
Two weeks after the October board meeting, I had the prayer watch from 7:30 A.M. until noon. From the window of the 24-hour prayer room, I could see the staff as they arrived for morning prayers two floors below. All knew that both Ralph and I felt very uneasy about the Board's decision. They knew he believed that selling the houses should be a last resort fallback plan, to be followed only in the event that all else failed.
In spite of how things appeared, we believed that God would come to our aid. Those on staff who agreed with us sent Ralph notes of encouragement; the few who didn't sent notes of rebuke. The harmony we usually enjoyed was shattered. Most didn't even know what to pray for.
Because of the situation, my heart was very heavy that morning as I entered the prayer room. And I cried out to the
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Lord, "I cannot bear this. Give me something from Your Word to comfort my heart!"
The preceeding May God had been talking to me about total dependence on Him. It seemed that every verse I saw, every devotional book I read, stressed the same thing. I truly wanted to trust Him completely, but I was still afraid.
"Why don't You send us a wealthy benefactor," I complained to the Lord. "Other organizations have them. Why not us? Why does it have to be so hard?" I struggled with this, especially after the board's decision to sell. "Lord, we could lose everything we've fought for while we're trying to learn dependence. Is that what You want?" But I felt ashamed.
That morning in the prayer room, I paced the floor as I cried out to HIm. Down below all was still. I knew the staff were also in prayer, also seeking His face, and I turned to my Bible to see what God might want to tell me.
During the years, our tests had so often paralleled those of the Children of Israel on their way to Canaan that I turned to those pages once again. I examined the situation of the ten spies at Kadesh Barnea in Numbers 13 and 14. Were we likewise in danger of not trusting God to care for us? If so, would he reject us also, and send us off into a forty year wilderness? And yet, under the circumstances, just what could we do? "What is Your way, oh God?" I prayed. "Protect us from disobedience and unbelief."
Knowing that Exodus often gives a parallel account of something told in Numbers, I looked for the same story there. I couldn't find it. Still praying earnestly, "Give me a word from You," I continued leafing, idly, on through Exodus and into Leviticus. I admit that I didn't expect anything from Leviticus: isn't that all about rules and rituals and directions for building the tabernacle? What could Leviticus possibly have to say to our situation?
Suddenly my eyes were glued to the page. I read the verse once, then twice — in amazement — and started to
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laugh. It couldn't be! But there it was!
And remember, the land is mine, so you may not sell it permanently. You are merely my tenants and sharecroppers! In every contract of sale there must be a stipulation that the land can be redeemed at any time by the seller. (Leviticus 25:23-24)
"The land is mine!" it said. "You may not sell it!" Amazing!
Even the other part, "In every contract of sale must be the stipulation that you can buy it back at any time" . . . Those were almost the exact words that Ralph had fallen back to in the Board meeting when he saw he could not prevent their decision.
All at once my heart started to sing. God hadn't forgotten us. There would be an answer, one that would not compromise our faith. We could wait on the Lord with confidence. He would somehow take care of us.
