Power for Ministry: Wind in the
Sails
LET EVERY CHRISTIAN UNDERSTAND THAT WHEREVER TRUTH IS FOUND,
IT BELONGS TO HIS MASTER.
St. Augustine
The beginning of my ministry was delayed and beset with many difficulties. Some of my seminary classmates were launching out into the ministry and establishing growing churches immediately upon graduation. But I waited in embarrassed silence for more than three months to be called to my first pastorate. I wondered if I would ever receive the call to a church.
Finally one was entrusted to me, the South Hollywood Presbyterian Church in Los Angeles, a congregation with a dwindling membership and a solitary Saturday-morning employee. To make things worse, the church was saddled with a building debt of thirty thousand dollars. A five-thousand-dollar payment was due along with seventeen hundred dollars in back interest on the loan. There was no prospect of clearing any of these accounts during those Depression years. The bank officer
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whose bank held the loan cautioned me against taking on the pastorate of the tiny congregation, because the bank was considering foreclosure.
I was concerned, but I'd also been called. I was eager to serve God with all I had to bring to my new ministry.
Gone Fishing
Let me back up a bit and describe for you the unconventional way I was chosen to become the pastor at South Hollywood. The three men on the pastor-seeking committee figured that taking their young prospect fishing would be one way to find out if he was the one to pastor their congregation. They reasoned that Jesus was looking for fishers of men, wasn't he? "If Munger catches his fish, we'll know he's our man."
To try out their theory, they took me for a day of deep-sea fishing off Santa Monica. We threw our lines over the side of the boat to see what we could get. All eyes were on my fishing line. "Is Munger going to catch anything? Will he be our man?" I could see them talking to each other, hoping I'd hook a mackerel or two.
In retrospect, I'm sure those good brothers didn't have a clue what to ask me about my faith, seminary experience, strategy for ministry or theology. But their purpose was right, and God used it. Though I'd never been deep-sea fishing in my life, I still caught more mackerel than the other three men combined. And I love their goodhearted ingenuity and warm offer of friendship.
God's Hand on the Wheel
Despite all the challenges at hand, I knew South Hollywood was the place for me. What I would learn later was that in a most unusual and wonderful way, God was already preparing our little congregation to meet the opportunities of World War II, especially through ministry to the thousands of servicemen who would be pouring into Los Angeles and Hollywood. In the providence of God I was placed in the best possible setting for a beginner in pastoral leadership.
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From my present perspective, I am awed at what God was beginning to do in my life. I was surrounded by great churches, great preachers, great spiritual youth movements and conferences, many of them strongly evangelical and biblical. A strong network of evangelical leadership encouraged me to grow spiritually, thus expanding and stimulating my understanding and doing of God's work.
Stewart McLennan (pastor of Hollywood Presbyterian Church), Henrietta Mears, Louis Evans Sr., Roy Creighton and Louis Talbot were models of ministry for me — all people whom I came to know personally. During my nine years at South Hollywood I also came in contact with what would later become the major evangelical parachurch organizations — institutions such as the Navigators, Wycliffe Bible Translators, the National Association of Evangelicals, Westmont College; then came Christian Endeavor, InterVarsity, Gospel Light Press, and later the Japanese Evangelical Society and many more. Through these organizations and their Christ-centered leadership I experienced Christ's presence. Further brightening the environment of ministry, a number of my Princeton teammates were neighbors and colleagues in ministry. But of all the spiritual input I received, none was more stimulating and helpful than the Hollywood fellowship under the able leadership of Henrietta Mears, God's gift to so many of us and especially to me as a beginner in Christian service.
During this time God also blessed me with the incomparable gift of a beloved wife. Without Edie my heart, longing for love, would not have been fulfilled — nor could the following years of service have been realized. Later two beautiful daughters were given to us to render completeness to an already happy home.
Family bonds are indispensable for anyone endeavoring to do ministry today, given the complexities of life as we now know them. I'm sure a few monastic types are somehow able to minister in a single role, but in my experience that is increasingly difficult and filled with problems. I needed the gift of a supportive, loving home as my foundation
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for the challenges of the ministry yet to come.
Setting Out to Sea
The first Sunday I preached, we scoured the congregation to find enough men to take the offering — not that we needed too many to carry the plates, for they were neither heavy nor full. When I saw that we couldn't even get a quorum of ushers, I knew we were in trouble. It was a church of older, relatively uninvolved parishioners, with only a few young couples in sight. The only reason as many as eighty adults were present for that first sermon was that my family and some Mount Hermon friends wanted to be on hand for my first pastoral performance. If those relatives and friends had not made the effort to come, there would have been even more empty pews.
I don't remember what I preached on that day, but my family thought I was great. Somehow I got started on my voyage, ready and willing to brace up for whatever winds might come my way.
As a young minister I had to learn some new navigational principles fast. Moody had introduced me to the basic manual of seamanship; Princeton had been my Annapolis, where I'd been allowed to take partial command in a few quiet harbors. But now I was on the high seas, commanding my first ship and not very skilled in working with my equally unskilled crew.
The Beginning of Growth
Soon after my arrival, there was some initial growth among the young people at South Hollywood, and this encouraged me greatly. Working with the adults was a greater challenge, but there too our congregation grew.
After the honeymoon period passed, though, there came a time when the church's growth and expansion leveled off. Instead of navigating prudently though these troubled waters, I quickly found myself in a spiritual storm.
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I was twenty-six years old, and I possessed the eager heart of a young officer. But I learned one thing quickly: change is difficult for those who are settled in their ways. Believers without a life-changing experience with Christ are uncomfortable around younger people who have different ideas along with a vital experience of Christ. Established leaders tend to be threatened by younger, more venturesome Christians who want to make a difference. The result is tension. One day I would learn to prepare for change my making sure the older members knew they were loved and deeply valued by their pastor. Unfortunately, that wisdom came later.
Refusing to Deal with the Issues
In my first turn at the helm I didn't know how to handle conflict. I was afraid of it. I went out of my way to avoid the unpleasantness of any difficult situation, hoping that God would somehow bail me out and eliminate my responsibility for dealing with thorny issues. As struggles mounted in a variety of areas, my strategy was simply to pray more and redouble my efforts in other ministries. Then, after I had served three years at South Hollywood, a crisis came.
Our choir director, the most gifted and enthusiastic member of our new leadership team, was an experienced Christian who loved Christ and our young people. At the time she was tutoring young people from other areas of the city in music, offering these enthusiastic young musicians a major role in our small church choir. To me, this was a marvelous gift. The results of her efforts were phenomenal. Not only did the choir provide the congregation with high-quality music, it also attracted large numbers of participants, young and old. Within a year the choir was producing light opera concerts and performing in a sanctuary crowded with members, friends and neighbors. I sensed we were on our way. Our director's participation in worship added excitement, joy and an awareness that it was possible to put new wine into old wineskins.
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But conflict was brewing. A new person arrived on the scene: a Bible teacher who told fascinating stories and unearthed information about the Old Testament that I had never heard in all my theological studies. Our choir director was so influenced by him and his gift of teaching that she opened her home for others to hear him speak. Of course many young people and adults crowded in to hear him.
In August of that year I was away on vacation. Upon my return, the choir director asked if this teacher could teach an adult Bible class on Sunday mornings before church, since there was no adult class at that time. But some investigation into the teacher's past revealed that no church had allowed him to minister with them for any length of time. He had neither credentials nor recommendations, and wherever he had been he had repeatedly asked for donations to support his teaching ministry. That less-than-glowing report on the teacher was enough for our group of elders. One of them felt that he was devious.
Still, the choir director was insistent. The tone of her voice, the set of her chin and the flash of her eyes warned me, "Back away!"
Princeton had not prepared me for what was about to happen. I had limited interpersonal skills and no background in counseling. I knew there was a problem but hoped the action of the elders would take care of it. Yet at the deepest level I sensed it was my responsibility.
I should have thought to visit the choir director at home and express my appreciation for all she was doing. I should have complimented her for the marvelous changes we were seeing not only among our young people but in the church as a whole. I then could easily have said, "You know, we have a problem. What can we do to resolve it?"
I may have been viewed by those around me as knowledgeable, mature and confident, but inwardly I struggled with immaturity and insecurity. I chose the modus operandi of cowardice and suggested that the elders take action on the problem instead of dealing with it myself. My action was not only unwise but also unbiblical. Matthew 5:24-26 reminds us, "First go and be reconciled to your brother . . . Settle
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matters quickly with your adversary." Responsible leadership takes initiative to do the difficult in healing relationships. I flunked that test.
Sadly, the result was that the choir director felt unfairly treated by her pastor, who had made no effort to talk with her and take her cause seriously. She sensed she was no longer wanted or needed and quickly made plans to leave the church. When she left, most of the choral and youth leadership left with her.
Learning to Face Conflict
It was Saturday evening. I sat with four or five elders before the quarterly Sunday-morning Communion service as we prayed for the following say's services, a practice we had recently introduced. Crushed by the burden of conflict, I knew I needed God's forgiveness. I needed the director's forgiveness. I needed to confess that I had not been courageous, obedient or loving.
In the intimacy of that fellowship of prayer, I simply opened the floodgates of the heart and let my cry pour out. I confessed the true state of the situation. I was a big part of the problem. I needed God's forgiveness and the courage to try to make matters right. I said to the elders, "Please pray for me. I want to see the choir director this week and ask her forgiveness."
I found that being open and truthful did not mean I forfeited my position of pastoral authority. By God's grace I had made confession to the right people at the right time. Together we were given a fresh touch of God's peace and gracious provision. With confidence, we could place the matter in his safekeeping.
One of the younger elders put his arm around me as we left the room. "It's great to know that you're human like the rest of us," he said. (I assure you, it was no great surprise to me!) His response to my confession joined us as one in Christ at the deepest level of forgiveness — at the foot of the cross. Our friendship was firm and fast from then on.
But I was still fearful. Going through with my resolve was one of the
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toughest assignments I have had placed on me. But I did visit the former choir director, and the words finally came out: "I'm sorry — forgive me. I should have talked it over with you first."
Her response was, "I'm sorry too. If you'd come to me sooner, I might not have left."
In spite of the pain, a great peace began to settle in my heart. I sensed that God was pleased. The choir director did go her way, but I think she did so in peace. Our friendship was later restored, with warm family ties. The choir suffered, but over time the grace of God brought healing and restoration. Before long, new life and new leadership emerged — and new maturity for me.
I learned three unforgettable lessons during this painful leg of my voyage. First, go to the person yourself. Seek reconciliation. Second, confession to the proper person(s) is the fastest way to God's forgiveness, peace and the healing of relationships. Third, the supporting prayer of others empowers the process of reconciliation and healing.
Time of Trial
Lessons had been learned, forgiveness received, relationships finally restored — but all was still not well in the congregation. A painful period followed our choir director's departure. The loss of our gifted, energetic musician, her two talented daughters and her loyal followers left a void impossible to fill. The absence of a choir full of young voices lifting joyful hearts in praise made each worship service seem seem dull and heavy to me. Even my sermons seemed drained of life and without reality.
At times I felt hypocritical preaching about love, joy and peace when I myself was discouraged, depressed and defeated. I felt like Peter on Galilee with the little boat swamped and slowly going down. I could only cry to the Master, "Don't you care, Lord, if we perish?" Our little congregation seemed to be going down and under. Sunday attendance declined from 225 to 200 or less. My soul was joyless. I could see no way out. The confidence with which I had begun three years earlier was gone.
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At times I gave serious thought to running off to a foreign mission field. Yes, I would do that. I would get on a sailing ship, cross great waters and convert a few heathen. I could then come back and tell moving stories of God's grace, perhaps thrill great audiences — and in the process escape my pain. Then I would wake up and recognize that such a "noble" escape would be less than noble and would really be only one more exercise in futility.
Nothing was working for me, not even my long hours of devotional study and earnest prayer. I knew I had the way, the truth and the life, but I did not have the power to live it out or to share it. First of all, I was hurting my Savior and my Friend. I was neither salt nor light. I was feeling empty of faith, hope and spiritual life. I was a miserable representation of what a Christian ought to be — a contradiction of the very gospel I was preaching.
Addressing the Inner Turbulence
In the early fall of 1939, with my ship becalmed and drifting, I attended a pastors' retreat at the newly established Forest Home Christian Conference Center in the San Bernardino Mountains. The conference was for pastors who wanted a renewal of spiritual life for themselves and their congregations. The speaker, Armin Gesswein, had just returned from an extended visit to Norway, where he had witnessed a spiritual awakening of apostolic power, with manifestations of the Holy Spirit and unprecedented, dramatic conversions. With wide-eyed amazement, he had seen a reliving of the book of Acts. Then Norway had been occupied by Nazi troops. The first phase of World War II was beginning.
Gesswein's message to us was "Let Americans take heed. Prepare spiritually for the coming conflict. Be filled and equipped with the power of God!"
Like a flash of lightning, the truth hit me. That was exactly what I needed — the power and equipping of the Holy Spirit. A pastor and hi people needed the wind of the Spirit to fill their sails and their souls
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if they were to move out of the doldrums.
I felt compelled to talk to the speaker. He gave me time and graciously listened to my sad story. I'm sure I fumbled all over my words. But Armin listened. He sensed I had heard all I needed to know and was aware that my heart was being prepared. And Armin would trust Christ to do his work in me in his way and in his time. He simply said, "Bob, when you're ready, God is going to meet you."
I could have kicked his shins. I was so ready I would have jumped from a window if I felt God had told me to! But Armin promised he would pray for me. He did. And he still does, thank God, after more than fifty years of prayer partnership.
It dawned on me that I had been failing for the same reason the disciples had failed before Pentecost. So starting with Genesis 1:1, I began reading through the entire Bible, marking every reference to the Holy Spirit. By the time I had reached John 7:37 at the beginning of a new year, I was battering at the gates of heaven, praying earnestly for the Spirit's power. I was desperately thirsting for the promised rivers of living water.
I decided I would have it out with God. Either he would equip me with the power of his Spirit, or I would find some other vocation. I probably would have lacked the courage to follow through on my threat, but at the time I felt desperately determined.
Read, Munger, Read!
One evening I went into a small room in the back of the church, away from phones, people and distractions. I wanted to be alone. I would thrash things out with God. No one else was in the building. All the lights were out.
I knelt and prayed, "Lord, either you meet me tonight and give me deliverance, or I'll leave the ministry. I'm not going to stand here and be a hypocrite talking about your grace and love."
Then the Lord seemed to say to me, Read this, Bob Munger! It's
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important. Just open it and look! No doubt these words were an echo of the conversion experience of St. Augustine. According to his Confessions, Augustine was moved to a life-changing experience with God as he heard a sentence spoken by children who were playing on the other side of a wall. He didn't even see the children; he simply heard them say, "Take up and read."
I was sure God was directing me to the Bible, but where in the Bible was I to read? I knew exactly where my well-worn Scofield Bible would open — right to Isaiah 53. It always opened at that chapter. I felt like saying, "Look, I know that passage well. What do you want me to know?"
But the impulse within continued. I turned on the light, and my Bible opened not to Isaiah 53 but to Isaiah 54. The words I saw looming before me could not have been more personal or more direct communication with God if spoken audibly. I read,
More are the children of the desolate . . . Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thy habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes; For thou shalt break forth on the right hand and on the left; and thy seed shall inherit the Gentiles, and make the desolate cities to be inhabited. Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed: neither be thou confounded; for thou shalt not be put to shame . . . For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee. In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the LORD thy Redeemer (Isaiah 54:1-4,7-8 KJV).
It was a breakthrough of God's grace. I was heard. He was answering. God was going to open up streams of living water in the parched desert of my soul.
I began to pray with expectation, even to the extent of praising God for what he was going to do in my life. I prayed, "I don't know how you're going to handle it, Lord, but you're going to do it. Somehow you're going to enlarge the tent, and you're going to remove the disgrace
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and use me after all. You hid your face for a moment, but it was only for a moment."
Conversion of the Unconscious
I felt somehow I had become party to a solemn blood covenant, like the one the Lord God had made with Abraham. I had offered to God all I was and all I had. He — Father, Son and Holy Spirit — had accepted the offer and given word that my prayer for an energizing of the Holy Spirit would be fulfilled. This was, to me, more than a simple reaching out of my hand that he might draw me up out of the darkness of those angry waves into his love and saving life. It was more than signing up for lifesaving service under my Friend, Savior and Captain. It went much deeper and further.
In the words of the late E. Stanley Jones, it was "the conversion of the unconscious" as well as a conscious captivating of the core of my soul. God would take responsibility for everything. My job was to let him do it, to trust him and do what he said. I would never again go through that feeling of conscious loss of his presence. I had stated the one thing I needed above all from God, and that was a smile on the face of Jesus, my Savior, Friend, and Lord. With that I could be at his service anywhere, doing anything. The peace of assurance filled my heart.
I saw my need to let go of dependence on myself, my knowledge, my abilities, my prayer and my faith to God through the Holy Spirit. A massive movement of trust from self to the Savior would be involved. Had not Jesus said, "Without me you can do nothing"? I knew it was true. In spite of our best efforts — in spite of my best efforts — I could not bring spiritual life into being, neither in myself or through myself. God alone could impart genuine life, and the Holy Spirit was his means.
My brokenness had produced openness. All the apertures of my soul were open for God's control. I wanted myself displaced to the glory of God. Perhaps the Holy Spirit had not been given to me because I had
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not been ready to have Jesus Christ glorified in everything in my life.
I can't say any dramatic changes accompanied these profound new insights, but I finally had a spirit of hopeful expectation. I discovered I had to be broken from my preconceived, fleshly ideas of power and to shift from confidence in myself to confidence in my Captain. We all know Jesus said, "Without me you can do nothing," but I'm convinced most of us don't believe it until God shows us we can do nothing apart from him and his power. Only when we hit that nothingness are we broken.
Six weeks of eager, expectant prayer and praise followed. Armin kept in touch with me during this period and asked me to join a pastor's prayer fellowship with him on a Monday morning. I wasn't too excited about going, nor was I comfortable with the denominational backgrounds of those he told me usually attended. Besides, I had just been through a most strenuous weekend — a countywide Christian Endeavor gathering with four thousand young people at the Long Beach Auditorium. My part had been to instruct more than one hundred of those who were seeking the Lord after the concluding invitation. It was exciting, but I was exhausted. So I declined.
But Armin quietly persisted, and I'm grateful he did. As I hung up the receiver, I remembered the covenant I had made a few weeks before to be wholly God's. Reluctantly, I decided to go.
"Munger, I'm Speaking to You!"
The speaker at that Monday-morning gathering was a man named Morrisey, an excellent Bible teacher who had been a student at Biola when R.A. Torrey was president. Morrisey began his devotional by reflecting on Torrey's thoughts on the Holy Spirit. He talked of the importance of understanding the various steps of becoming acquainted with the third Person of the Trinity and of what it meant to be filled with the Spirit and to be anointed for ministry. He was quoting from his personal conversation with Torrey. He said, "If you think of the Holy Spirit as a
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mere influence or power, as so many even among Christian people do today, then your thought will constantly be 'How can I get hold of the Holy Spirit and use it?' But if you think of him in the New Testament way, as a personal deity, your thought will be, 'How can the Holy Spirit get hold of me and work through me?' "
Once again it was the word of authority, but the speech was that of a friend: Bob, I'm speaking to you. Get this! Just a few days before, I had been reading John 7:37-39: "If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his [inward being] shall flow rivers of living water. (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified)" (KJV).
I knew I had received the water of life. But a trickle was only enough to make me thirsty for more. I had not yet experienced rivers of life-giving water flowing from me to others. The prospect of experiencing authentic joy and power through the Holy Spirit, imparted on the night of crisis six weeks before, surged into my soul. My heart beat fast with expectation. Perhaps here, at this time, I would by faith be able to drink deeply of that water of life.
Afraid but Hopeful
One day as I prayed with Dick Halverson at a Forest Home gathering, he poured out his heart in a way that perfectly expresses what I wanted that Monday morning. He prayed, "Lord, put me on like an old glove and use me any way you want."
I think of it this way. Suppose you were to pick up an old, weathered garden glove or work glove — one that has been out in the weather or buried on a beach. Say that you wanted to use it but found it as hard as a rock. Yet picking it up, shaking out the sand and gradually working it over, you discover you can soften it up until the glove is finally ready to be filled out to the fingertips. In God's love and grace, he had been
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working me over for some time — much like a weather-beaten old glove. Now I was ready to let the glove be filled to the fingertips. I wanted to be put on for his intended use, which was to serve him, love him, share his grace and enhance his glory.
Morrisey's subject that morning was "How to Be Filled with the Spirit." I knew he was speaking to me. Was this the moment when I should openly and boldly ask God to do it? Suppose nothing happened. Suppose I was given the gift of glossolalia. Then what would I do? For me, it was a step of enormous venture and consequence.
The time soon came for us to pray. About a dozen of us knelt in a circle. Would I share my condition? Would I admit my desperation? Did I dare pray publicly for God to give me a special anointing and infilling of the Spirit of God, even though it might mean a radical change in the direction and association of my ministry? I had covenanted in writing before God in that crisis night that I would do anything, everything, go anywhere.
It was a kairos (crisis) moment. Finally it was my time to pray. I told the gathered Christian brothers that I needed to be filled with the Spirit and asked them to pray for me. They did — earnestly, lovingly and with warm faith. Then I prayed, reminding God from Scripture of our covenant relationship and what he had already promised to give me for his glory.
When I finished praying, the brother next to me, a big man whom I did not know but whose loving concern I could feel, put his arm around me and said, "Lord, help Bob's unbelief!" That was a bit hard to take, but I took it! I had often told inquirers that we receive Christ not by feelings but by faith in his person and promise. Now, suddenly, my own faith came alive. With a holy boldness I told God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit that I was now receiving all of him and all that was meant in John 7:37-39. I thanked God that he was doing what I had asked of him. Now I knew for certain he would glorify Jesus Christ somehow even in me.
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The Word of God Coming to Life
On the way out, Armin asked me, "Do you think God heard your prayer?"
I said, "I hope so, because I feel confident I've done everything the Lord has been asking me to do. I can think of nothing more. The next step is up to him."
"That's good," Armin said. "Keep on thanking him."
I went home that morning with the strong sense that God had heard my prayer. I sat down alone in my study and reflected on the morning. I had enough assurance to praise God, and I quietly thanked him for the peace that had finally settled in my soul. He would do what I had asked, and my struggle would be over. My mood was open, receptive and expectant, not only to receive the Holy Spirit but also to recognize that the Spirit of God was now actually resident in my life and in full control of my heart. I belonged to God fully, body and soul. He would do the rest.
I never did speak in tongues, nor did I experience any immediate manifestations. But I did know that the simple inner witness of the Spirit had come to me and that he was in charge of my body, his temple.
That evening, as I gave a devotional talk to a group of young couples at a summer evening picnic, I sensed a new freedom and fullness of the presence of God. Whether the others noticed it I don't know. But from that time on I have been aware that he is the resident, indwelling Lord of my life and that he will be with me forever (John 15:16).
For the next few years I wanted to tell everybody about my experience, whether they wanted to hear it or not. But I had to be careful how I talked about it, how I shared it with my congregation, friends and family. I'm sure many of them would have misunderstood, feeling that Munger had become unstable and had gone off the deep end. Remember, in those years the charismatic movement had not yet touched mainline denominations.
But I found the Bible coming alive to me in a new way. The Scriptures
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had begun to speak to me when I first came to know Christ personally in 1932. Now the communication was not just a matter of seeing but also of hearing. It was as if I were in the living presence of the One addressing me. The communication was more direct. The Holy Spirit was in my heart. It was as if I had put on new spiritual spectacles and could see Christ clothed with cosmic power.
I began to believe a motto I'd recently seen on the wall of a neighboring church: "Jesus Christ is here; anything can happen!" As I preached and served, I sensed at times that living water was flowing. There was a new freedom, a new authority, a new conviction of Scripture as the Word of God, a new reality. My sermons took on a freshness, carrying with them the conviction of authoritative truth.
As if by some miracle, books on the dynamics of the spiritual life suddenly challenged and blessed me. I could not get enough of the powerful biographies and writings of Andrew Murray, George Müller, D.L. Moody and A. T., Pearson, to name a few. Each confirmed my own spiritual experience.
I had already learned that "man shall not live by bread alone," and I was now feeding my soul on rich spiritual food. If food is not assimilated, it does little good in nourishing the body. Now the Holy Spirit was alive and active in my life, enabling me to appropriate and assimilate his truth, then to share it and satisfy the hunger of others. I felt energized with his truth, authority and power through personal conversation with the living Lord, speaking from Scripture.
The Right Word, the Right Accent
The writer Joseph Conrad once said, "Give me the right word with the right accent and I can take the world." God had given me the right word. I also had the right accent: the written Word of God, the Scripture, the truth. The truth of God's Word and the gospel had been explained to me at Moody. Then I studied the Bible in even greater depth and was trained for its enunciation and propagation at Princeton. There was no
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question about it. I had the right accent, and I knew God's Word was true. That truth was confirmed again and again by the response of our young people and others to the gospel. The validation of that truth strengthened by confidence.
My prayer life was also liberated, fed by the pure oxygen of the Holy Spirit promised in Romans 8:26. He became a marvelous "help" in my weakness. I was now being granted a conscious personal hearing with the triune God. I was enrolled in God's school of intercessory prayer. In this school all know they are only beginners being taught first to seek God's will and listen carefully to his Word, then to intercede in his name and for his glory.
Prayer began to impart power. Prayer became real. It made a difference in the world around me, the church and my own life. In the school of prayer I moved from petition — cries for help — to conversation — intimate fellowship and sharing — to intercession. At times I found myself becoming an advocate before the bar of God's covenant promises, pleading that his word of promise be reconciled with his word of fidelity, truth and love.
Today I'm still in the lower grades. I have much more to learn. But I'm grateful that I know more now than when I began the Christian life. For me prayer is more than beneficial — not only for my ministry but also for the cause of Christ throughout the world. As oxygen was necessary for my body, so prayer became necessary to my soul. My prayer life was liberated and authenticated.
Once the accent was right, the Holy Spirit projected God's Word through my sermons with a new, penetrating power. From the time of that initial experience with the Spirit of God, it seemed to me that everything around me made a sudden, quantitative leap forward. My spiritual energy abounded. My limited gifts as a communicator would now be fed supercharged fuel. God was ding things only he could do. As Jesus opened the minds of the two on the road to Emmaus, so he seemed to be opening the minds of those who heard my preaching and
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teaching. People were understanding the Scriptures and discovering there was indeed a living Lord.
It was not dramatic. I did not change my style or manner of preaching, but here and there people began to hear the truth and trust God in new ways. They were venturing out into uncharted waters. The little two-by-four world of my ministry was expanding. The new life given to me was producing new life in others.
Now that the Holy Spirit was in control of my life, I sensed my heart and body had been changed. I had been indwelt by Jesus Christ through the new birth, but now was also anointed of the Spirit for the work he entrusted me to do.
As the clouds of war flashed lightning over Europe and the roar of battle intensified, spiritual victories were being won in our membership. The ordinary had become a theater of extraordinary happenings. The supernatural became amazingly more natural. Conflicts continued to occur. The enemy was not conquered, but we had discovered a faith that overcomes the world, the flesh and the devil.
Quantum Leap
I was proud of the way our young people responded to the challenges of war, especially in maintaining Christian convictions and character in the midst of many trials and temptations. By 1945 over one hundred from our congregation were in uniform; two had been killed in action, and one had endured four years as a Japanese POW. I treasure a book of some forty letters in which these brave men and women express appreciation for the touch of God given them through the church. These people were good soldiers of the cross as well as of Uncle Sam.
Under the clouds of war we saw new life in the congregation. Seekers came to us, and leaders began to emerge. The membership rose to 750. In time the church had a full-time secretary with a part-time director of our church school. In those days associate pastors were rare for congregations of that size. Yet steadily our people matured and multiplied,
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with good leadership given voluntarily and selflessly to the Lord.
We always felt we were in a crisis of need: first to retire the debt, second to provide adequate programs, and third to be more engaged in sharing the gospel and loving our neighbors. There were always problems and perils to be faced. Yet somehow God always saw us through.
I learned there are times when God delights to use inadequate and unprepared instruments. Samson once picked up the nearest object, the jawbone of a donkey, and used it to defeat many enemies (Judges 16:15). It amazes me that God often seems to use the most unlikely and least positioned congregation in a city to do something unique and beautiful for the glory of God.
To the Troops with Love
A major lesson of the war years was that through faith and prayer, the Holy Spirit empowers God's people in ministry for evangelism. This was powerfully demonstrated through a ministry for evangelism. This was powerfully demonstrated through a ministry to military personnel, seventy thousand of whom flooded Los Angeles and Hollywood every weekend for rest and recreation. Our outreach to soldiers began in a most amazing way.
We were not located near the center of Hollywood, where those thousands of service personnel thronged the USOs, the streets and theaters for entertainment. That's why I'm proud of how our church pursued its unprecedented opportunity to touch the lives of these young men for Christ.
This ministry to our troops started out simply enough. A group of seven mothers met at the church every Friday morning to pray for their own sons who had gone overseas. On Sunday morning a faithful member of this band of praying women was driving to church with her husband when she saw three servicemen walking along Sunset Boulevard near Vine in Hollywood. It was early. There was obviously nothing for the boys to do. This godly woman asked her husband to stop the
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car as she leaned out the window and said, "You men look like you don't have a lot going on this morning. Why not come with us to church? Our people are friendly, the church is comfortable, and we'll bring you back at 12:15. I have two sons in the service. I'd love to have you with us. Why not come along!"
Well, with an invitation like that, how could they refuse! Sitting on a church pew at the moment seemed better than wearily ambling along the deserted streets of Hollywood. The men jumped in the car and came to the service, an event that marked the beginning of an exciting ministry. The idea spread quickly throughout the congregation and it didn't take long for others to join in the opportunity. During the next six months, after nearly every service, a group of servicemen met with me, seeking to know Christ personally. We prayed for them, gave them follow-up materials, and commended them to the grace and care of God. As many as fifty men in uniform would be crowded into the church on a Sunday morning, and in earnest response to the invitation, more than half would usually squeeze into the little prayer room to receive instruction on how to know Christ personally — and to have him with them through the dangers and testing ahead.
During this time, the seven mothers continued their prayer vigil. Of course, others now had joined them in bringing servicemen to worship. It was without doubt one of the most dramatic examples of answered prayer I have ever known — one that helped shape my understanding of the connection between intercession and evangelism for years to come.
There is one more person I must thank for his prayers for me, his lifetime of friendship, and the way he helped me shape my world to see a lost humanity. He also helped me catch the vision for trained, mature disciples to fulfill God's saving purpose. That man was Dawson Trotman, founder of the Navigators. During the winter of 1945, Daws gathered around him six or eight of us to pray for those we knew in military action. He had the names of hundreds of servicemen at his fingertips. The Navigator ministry was strongly underway.
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When Daws told me the time of our prayer meeting would be from five until seven a.m., I could not believe he was expecting me to join the fellowship. I was about to refuse the invitation to be one of this party of intercessors until he told me people such as Dick Hillis and others who at that time were outstanding, effective Christian servants, working with the military in various ways, would be attending. There were also some wonderful lay brothers, about eight of us in all. I had never gotten up at 4:00 a.m. to get to 5:00 a.m. prayer meeting even once in my life, let alone made a commitment to do it every week. This was going to be a struggle. But inside I knew something tremendous was going to happen in those prayer meetings, and I had better figure out a way to get there and not miss out.
Somehow I managed to stagger there every Friday for that winter and spring. I was impressed with Daws's careful, systematic, organized approach. Every week, each of us would bring the names of our young men in the military. Toward the end of our time together, we began to pray not only for our service personnel but also for the countries and locations where they were serving. In due course, we began to pray for those areas where there was such great need, such as Southeast Asia, where much of the fighting was going on, and the countries of Europe. We were praying that God would lead some of the men who were now mature, disciplined, dedicated to serving their country even unto death, to give God that same quality of commitment.
This kind of prayer was not exactly easy, nor was it enjoyable. It was hard work. We kept each other awake and alive because of the seriousness of the purpose for which we were praying. We lost all sense of counting numbers or who the people were, at least I did, because it was a joint effort, and there was a cause that was as important as the physical combat going on.
Some six years later, Dawson Trotman and his wife jointed Edie and me for a three-day winter break in our little cottage at Mount Hermon. We had no agenda except for them to get a break, and then to talk with
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them about what was going on in the world and for the cause of Christ as we understood it.
Daws said something I'll never forget. "Bob, my secretary researched some astonishing answers to our prayers for servicemen recently." He then listed several countries we had intentionally prayed for — countries in and near the battle zones. He said that there was now a full-time person serving Christ with the Navigators in each one of the fifteen or more countries we had prayed for. In half a dozen countries there were two missionaries. And that was within six years of the time when we were praying so earnestly. I do not regard that as a coincidence. There was an intention to be sure on the part of the Navigators to do that very thing, but I've always felt those early morning prayer hours had a major part to play in the explosive expansion of the Navigator ministry.
Dawson Trotman helped to deepen my commitment and drove me to excel as a Christian disciple. God in his great mercy once again became alive in my life. The Holy Spirit was giving me the joy of being used in God's great cause with the assurance of his ultimate victory. While never in uniform, I was privileged to engage in frontline spiritual warfare with veteran intercessors. It was an experience of intercessory prayer with tangible results and biblical principles of ministry. I discovered it is as important to talk to God about people as to talk to people about God.
Sharing Christ in Today's War Zones
Today, as we approach the close of this millennium, the spiritual battle for the minds, hearts and loyalty of men and women continues between the forces of light and darkness. In those early years of World War II, I learned the powerful connection between prayer and visible results. The same strategies work today.
I learned that the best way to get people from Sunset Boulevard inside the church to turn to God was through the ministry of intercession. Only a handful of people were engaged in this ministry, but it doesn't take
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many to move the hand of God. For us, it happened through the lives of ordinary people of God with burdened spirits and persistence in prayer who never stopped pouring out their hearts before the Lord whom they loved and trusted. For this small group of prayer warriors, their ministry was a high calling of great urgency. They devoted themselves to it around the clock, forever putting feet to their own petitions. Times have changed, but the goodness of God, the efficacy of prayer and the power of love, quickened by the Holy Spirit, have not. There are no impossibilities for the will of God even in this day of intense spiritual conflict.
Evangelism is supernatural work. It cannot be done without the power of the Holy Spirit. Plans and efforts without earnest prayer and strong faith do not bring positive results. But persistent, heartfelt prayer lifted in the name of Jesus Christ and for his concerns holds wonderful power.
What about our various ministries today? Who is walking on the Sunset Boulevards of our communities? How are we doing in our late-twentieth-century war zones? Whom are you and I missing simply because we are looking the other way? Are we involved in causes bigger than ourselves? Are we aware of today's casualties of war — the wars of drugs, divorce, prejudice, ignorance and abuse? Are we as leaders making a critical difference in the lives of others? No one needs a formal theological education to make an impact as a Christian. Just as Jesus chose to use nonprofessionals to carry out his mandate, he will continue to use us and our dominant desires to extend the kingdom, whether we've been trained theologically or not. Our mandate is simply to pay attention to the crushing need around us and to respond to that physical and spiritual need in Jesus' name.
The late Ray Stedman used to say, "The best place for a resurrection is in a graveyard." I hope you view today's social and spiritual graveyard crises as ministry opportunities to love men and women, boys and girls to Jesus and into the kingdom.
Toward the end of my years at South Hollywood, God was blessing
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us richly. The war had made us tough, sensitive, gentle, resilient and fully reliant on our Captain, Jesus Christ. We lived with weekly announcements of lost lives, shattered hopes and broken dreams. But out ship was afloat and on course; the crew had become adept and well trained for service. Our congregation was never large, but it was always willing to develop a deeper relationship with the Father, to recognize the power of the Holy Spirit and to make Jesus Christ known to all.
"You Haven't Suffered"
My message to today's Christian leaders is that we need this same perspective and this same indwelling of the Holy Spirit in our lives. It is the Spirit alone who will lead us to repentance. It isn't that God doesn't love us; he just cannot and will not bless us when we blatantly disregard his principles for living lives of righteousness.
While today's economy may be tough and our social problems difficult to understand, much less manage, we still have it soft. Most of us do not suffer and have never really suffered. Years ago a Fuller Seminary student asked German theologian Helmut Theilicke his impressions of America. He spoke three words: "You haven't suffered."
True, we at home knew little of the kind of suffering civilians in Europe went through as the war came to their villages and homes. Nightly bombings, starvation, the horrors of being overrun by the enemy — by comparison, our scarcity of meat and gasoline was trivial.
Yet the war years were challenging for the American people, both military and civilian. There were heroes in the air, at sea and in the trenches. There were heroes in our airplane factories, shipyards and victory gardens. And there were also heroes in the cause of Jesus Christ.
However, with the passing of time, the mood and motivation for sharing the good news has changed. Today, much of the drive is for grabbing and getting rather than giving; for security and comfort, not
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sacrifice; for self-interest rather than self-giving. Today, we want to be entertained, not enlightened. We find it easier to be sinful than sanctified. Many would rather be led than learn to lead with courage; would rather be dictated to than discipled; are more eager to embrace the pleasant and convenient than to do the right thing. The cults are growing because they are committed to a cause. Armies of religious and political fanatics are making great strides because they have laserlike goals and objectives.
Let's think about our own priorities. Are they in sync with Christ's call and provision? In my observation our clear purpose must be to develop members of the body to be like Christ and do his will, even when it calls for self-denial. These will be the Christians who are alive, effective in witness, growing and filled with excitement and joy. These will be — and are — the men and women whose faith and lives are real.
A Marxist's Commitment
Former communist leader Douglas Hyde puts it in perspective when he says in Dedication and Leadership (University of Notre Dame Press, 1966):
The Communists make far bigger demands upon their people than the average Christian organisation would ever dare make . . . They believe that if you make big demands upon people you will get a big response. So this is made a deliberate policy on their part. They never make a small demand if they can make a big one . . . "Every Communist is a leader, every factory a fortress" is one of their slogans. But it is more than a slogan, it is an aim, and one which they set out very determinedly to achieve. The meaning behind the slogan is this: Each party member must be so trained that no matter where he may find himself he will be qualified to come forward and lead; and, when you have sufficient such members together in a given factory or within some particular organisation, they can make this a "fortress" for Communism . . . Marx concluded his Communist ManifestoPage 102
with the words, "You have a world to win." Here is a tremendous aim. In material terms, one could hardly aim higher . . . The Communist tutor is expected to remind himself over and over that he is not just concerned with passing knowledge to people. His aim is to equip them for action and to assist them in becoming leaders (pp. 27, 29, 31, 74).
Are those few comments of Hyde enough to challenge us to evaluate our commitment to Jesus Christ? Is our slogan We have a world to win? Are we helping those around us equip themselves for action and assisting them in developing leadership roles for the even more challenging twenty-first century? God never has demanded productivity, but he's always wanted our availability. Can we become conspirators for good, actually helping create a war effort mentality in our ministries? During World War II no one built an airplane, a ship, a factory, a bridge or a bullet by himself or herself. It was a team effort, complete with all the pain, sacrifice, joy and sorrow. We did without because we knew it was for a noble cause.
To the Next Port of Entry
The ship South Hollywood Presbyterian Church was now at full sail, with a full passenger list and full cargo. Was it not time now for me to be given a new assignment? God had made our congregation vibrant and alive. The Holy Spirit had sensitized us to a world in need, and in his power we were helping to make a difference in the lives of others. But I knew I would not stay there indefinitely. Just as I had wondered why my first call was delayed after Princeton, once again I found myself becoming impatient that other doors had not yet opened for me. Would I ever learn to trust God and his timing?
I became increasingly aware that if God were to open the door to my home congregation in Berkeley, that would be a fulfillment of all God had been preparing me to be and do. I knew the church from the inside as a spiritual son of the congregation. I was familiar with its university
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setting and at home with its people. In the end, in fact, that would be the way God would lead. When the call did come, I knew it would be an exciting voyage, but little did I know I would be sailing into seas leading to so many boundless opportunities! They are the subject of the next chapter.
