Mission: A Mandate for the High
Seas
THE LEADER WHO UNDERSTANDS
THE PRINCIPLE OF ENERGY IS AWARE OF
THE IMPORTANCE OF DEMONSTRATING ENERGY
BEFORE HIS FOLLOWERS.
THEY WILL NOT BE MORE ENTHUSIASTIC
THAN THE LEADER IS.
John Haggai, Lead On!
The exigencies of total war produced heroic leaders. Their names, too numerous to mention, will be remembered to the end of history: Omar Bradley, Winston Churchill, Franklin Roosevelt, George Patton, Douglas MacArthur, Jimmy Doolittle and so many more. At 8:15 a.m. on August 6, 1945, a B-29 dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. The blast destroyed more than four square miles of the city and left seventy-one thousand dead or missing. Three days later, the United States dropped another atomic bomb, this time on the city of Nagasaki. Some forty thousand were killed, and one-third of the city was devastated. On August 14, 1945, the Japanese surrendered. With a formal surrender
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signed on September 2, aboard the battleship Missouri in Tokyo Bay, World War II officially came to an end.
One month earlier, I had left my parish in South Hollywood to take the reins as pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Berkeley, California! It would be a new world for me and a congregation that was nursing its own war wounds as I entered my second and most important major mission. Our church would soon be playing a key role in a burgeoning national spirit — ready and, with God's help, willing to respond to the challenges of rebuilding a shelter of new opportunities and new safeguards against tyranny, oppression and evil.
I received by call to the First Presbyterian Church of Berkeley in the spring of 1945. Having hoped this opportunity might come one day, I looked forward to my new ministry with great anticipation. From the outset I had a strong sense of what lay ahead of me in Berkeley. I was heading into one of the most challenging intellectual and educational centers in the world.
Prepared by God
I never felt better about any call than this one at Berkeley. This exciting new opportunity seemed to have been designed by God for me from my birth. First, I had come home. This was the church of my youth; the congregation still contained friends from my boyhood days. I knew these people. I was familiar with the environment. I knew I could make a contribution. At the same time I looked back and developed an even deeper appreciation of the basic lessons confirmed during my nine years in South Hollywood. So many truths about my commitment to Christ had been validated for me. Christ had proved a trustworthy guide. I would be secure, faithfully following him, walking in the light. I was assured he would be with me in this new step even as he had been ever since I had put him in charge, that eventful night when I surrendered my vocation and location to God. He would handle the next unknown, humanly impossible leadership challenge if I would simply honor him
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and rely on him. That is exactly what he did through this trusting, willing servant in spite of my feeble but growing faith.
My faith in Scripture had also been strengthened. I had seen the Word of God quicken faith in Christ and enable a person to become well-rounded and mature in the Christian faith. I also had made the great discovery that God himself is the great worker, that getting the job done did not depend upon my abilities, influence, contacts or education. I had learned that it was his operation. My job was simply to have confidence in him. All this had come to be part of my very being through the experience with the Holy Spirit in 1940 and the transformation he graciously brought about at South Hollywood.
Two Validations of Intercessory Prayer
As I made the move toward Berkeley, I had been given a paradigm shift in my understanding of who the worker was in God's business and who I was — and wasn't. In my last years at Hollywood I saw God doing humanly impossible works in answer to intercessory prayer. For example, I had seen intercessory prayer work in evangelism, especially in the lives of our servicemen. Praying women and others would not let God forget our men and women overseas, nor would they forget the weekend warriors who wandered the streets of our own Hollywood.
Then, through Navigators founder Dawson Trotman and our early-morning fellowship, it was demonstrated to me how our intercessory prayers could actually shape the ministry of those who were involved in war. The ways of God are mysterious. My personal involvement in the crises of World War II, and the continuing spiritual warfare, showed me the truth that prayer really is effective. I think of men like Joe Kropff, one of our South Hollywood boys, and others whose lives were spared miraculously in the war, who went on to give their lives for the gospel in ministry or on the mission field. Not all of them did, of course, but enough to validate the principle of prayer and mission.
For the first time I was exposed to the impact of the gospel in a cross-cultural or "foreign" mission. From my youth, missions had always played a great role in my understanding of Christian life and service. It was instilled early. But my trip to Mexico with Edie and Ed and Margaret Caldwell, colleagues in ministry, caused my heart to burn even more brightly for those in other countries without Christ. Against the background of appalling human need and suffering, I had seen the supernatural power of God in the process of transforming lives almost before my eyes.
I will never forget the light of God's love shining through the faces of those with nothing of this world's goods, yet who could lift their hearts in praise and joyful song to their Redeemer. I returned with renewed commitment to be a world Christian wherever God would place me. My assignment at Berkeley would be to advance this cause from the strategic home base of the Berkeley church. Looking back, I now see that God had long been in the process of preparing me for this new assignment. This gave me the certainty that I understood what he wanted me to do.
The Berkeley Mandate
During the month of August 1945, we had the opportunity to spend our vacation at Lake Tahoe in Tahoe Meadows. Our cottage was on the beach with a warm southwestern exposure. It looked out over the water toward Mount Talack. Our eldest daughter was only two years old, and she enjoyed playing in the sand with her three cousins. It was a delightful summer. Still, while we were enjoying those halcyon days at Tahoe, Europe was still reeling from the horror of war and bloodshed that had torn it apart. Japan was engaging us in the Pacific with great losses.
Suddenly the solitude of our Tahoe reverie was shattered with the detonation of the first nuclear bomb. In a flash, literally, we were catapulted into a new age in which the ultimate destruction might be the end of the world. It was now possible for human beings to annihilate themselves in one horrible nuclear conflagration. Even as I write these
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words, the horror of that moment makes my heart race as I see flash before me those terrible headlines, and the pictures of the victims of the first horrible nuclear blast.
We had more than a month in the mountains before returning to Berkeley to begin our ministry. I took advantage of the mornings to be alone for a few hours while Edie and our little daughter were happily engaged in other things. I would drive a ways and then walk to a secluded spot, high on a hillside that overlooked the lake, and sit in the shade of a tree. There I did some thinking and praying. There I would ask God what my real assignment was to be in the days ahead.
The more I prayed, the greater and bolder my faith became. Instead of my becoming depressed or anxious by the catastrophic perils unfolding in world events, God widened my perspective for reaching that world with the message and the truth of God's Word, the Bible, when shared by the power of the Holy Spirit through a united people. God had demonstrated to me that he was able to do above all that I asked or thought (Ephesians 3:20). My new assignment would offer to me newer and larger opportunities to lift higher the only Savior of the world and to do his will for people everywhere who were in such desperate need.
One morning I opened the Scriptures to Isaiah 54 — old, familiar verses regarding the promise of power through the Holy Spirit. Now, however, I found myself reading the words of the prophet with a profound sense of opportunity. I could not shake the mandate of the second and third verses of the chapter. They instructed me to strengthen the stakes and lengthen the cords. These words commissioned me both in my personal life and in my relation to the congregation I was to serve. I was challenged to reach out farther than the people had ever reached before — to embrace an entire world for Christ. I also noticed the words "Your descendants will possess the nations and will settle the desolate towns." Our obedience would issue in God's action. There would be results even in far nations and desolate cities (Isaiah 54:3). In my mind, I
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began to see God's people carrying the torch of his truth into far lands and dark corners. It would be done through the ministry of others, some of whom, by the grace of God, I might be able to encourage or touch. To this day, that vision for my future ministry is as clear as if it happened yesterday.
I was being addressed by the great command in heaven. The headquarters of the Almighty was saying,
You are being placed in a battle position of world consequence. I'm trusting you with a message to be proclaimed from a strategic center that is looking out upon the Orient and the world. The going will be tough, but you volunteered for the voyage, and you promised you would be my servant.Don't be afraid. You will not be able to handle it yourself, but I'm going to be with you, and I will do it through you. Simply believe and follow. If you allow me, I will enable you to touch nations and desolate towns to the ends of the earth.
I accepted the mandate with thanksgiving, asking God for help to fulfill it. I felt as if I was going into a battle of world consequence, with a strange mix of fear and faith. I didn't know how he would do it, yet I knew he would be there if I would let him.
In so many words the Lord was saying to me, I prepared you for this mission before you were born, and throughout all these years I have been waiting until you were ready for the position and the position was ready for you. Now everything is finished. Now go ahead! I'll take care of all your future. Get on with it!
That was my sendoff, and I came down from the mountains to Berkeley with a tremendous inner sense of promise. I didn't tell anybody about my Tahoe vision. I didn't want to tell anybody about it — it was too sacred. But I knew that God's hand was upon me.
Sobering Reality
While keenly aware of my limitations, I was confident that God would
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lead me through. But I was not prepared for the deplorable situation that greeted me at the church. The church leaders had just agonized through two years of controversy. The pastor had fought the local governing body's efforts to remove him and then appealed to the Synod level of the denomination. After more than two years of this ecclesiastical infighting, the pastor finally left, leaving the congregation a confused, divided flock. When he left he took about a hundred members with him. Many of these were Sunday-school teachers and loyal followers, even a few pillars of the church.
My first appearance was on Rally Day Sunday. I found there were fewer than a hundred men, women and children, including the babies, in the whole of that Sunday-school hour. The only adult Bible class was a small group of mostly retired men who met together each Sunday morning. The week before, the junior and junior-high Sunday-school teachers had simply not shown up, choosing to go with the pastor as he organized a new congregation from his followers. Unfortunately, they left without mentioning their intentions to the superintendent or the children in their classes. The group moved two blocks away to the Women's City Club and set up their own worship service.
The shock of that first day at Sunday school was like diving into the icy waters of Lake Tahoe in early spring.
Attendance at worship was encouraging, though, thanks to the faithful remnant who came to hear their local boy returning as their pastor. Would I be able to handle this first delicate exposure? The conflict had dominated the local headlines for months. Every evangelical church in the Bay Area was aware of the struggle going on at First Church Berkeley. No doubt some of the four hundred who showed up that first Sunday were more curious than serious. They had to discover who we were and see if they wanted to be with us.
During the first eighteen months, we cleaned up the membership rolls, which hadn't been touched for years. During my second year we reported the removal of one thousand names from the church roll. The
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statistical loss of members affected the entire Synod. That record pleased no one in the denomination! But the cuts were essential, and everyone knew it. And it got even worse. Of the nineteen hundred names listed on the roll, only six hundred could be found who expressed a desire to remain active. Of these, only about three hundred displayed any real desire to participate in the work of the church. We were, however, blessed with the reappearance of many who cam back to renew their relationship with us. I thank God for those special men and women who were willing to stay with the church, believing it was God's place for them. I will be forever grateful for those faithful, loving elders whose brave hearts welcomed my leadership with joy and wholehearted effort.
By the grace of God, from the start there was growth in both attendance and active faith. Over the course of the years, we filled first one service and then two, with some twenty-four hundred worshiping each Sunday morning. When I left there were three thousand members in the congregation. The turnover was always constant and rather rapid because so many younger families were moving out of the more expensive Berkeley community to newer homes in the suburbs, over the hill toward Walnut Creek. But this was not negative. It was positive, because we had the opportunity to train new people to fill the empty places of leadership, unlike those communities where leadership remains stable and changes are more difficult. Our start was fast in Berkeley because of the quality and faith of leadership among both the stalwart adults and the remarkably committed students.
Remarkable Student Leadership
During the war years, even though the congregation was not in a happy state, the student leaders of the college department, known as Calvin Club, remained loyal. Functioning independently, they produced their own program activities, conferences and social events at a high level of excellence. They knew they had something to offer their fellow students at the university — a warm, attractive Christian fellowship. During registration,
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they would go up and down the lines, hand out leaflets and encourage students to join them in their meetings, which were indeed well planned by the students themselves. All that was going on when I arrived. Shortly after I came to the church we started an evening service. Many of those students would be there, close to the front, with increasing numbers of young singles and some teenagers joining the growing group. (TV had not yet invaded the culture.)
Adults who loved the more informal service and the fellowship with youth also joined us. This was my favorite hour of the week. With a song leader, familiar hymns and gospel songs, the sermons were popular expositions of biblical truth of God in Christ. The evening services were informal enough for special features and presentations as well as for unplanned, spontaneous interchange and fun. The semicircular seating arrangement and balcony made possible a warmth and intimacy of fellowship not achievable in the more elongated, cathedral-like style of many sanctuaries. With a youthful congregation led by a college and youth choir, I felt free to speak their language and speak the truth of Scripture as I saw it.
Getting Across the Mandate
From the start, I endeavored to present Jesus Christ as the hope for the world. I wanted the congregation to know we were involved in the biggest and most important enterprise on earth. We were engaged in a spiritual conflict of greater significance than World War II. We were indeed to be the shock troops of heaven against Satan and his hosts. Indeed, Christianity was the greatest of adventures, making immense demands with limitless possibilities for good and for God. It had cosmic, eternal scope and exciting, everlasting rewards. To follow Christ fully called for dedication, just as war called for dedication and sacrifice.
To give our lives to Christ without reservation, we risked having our life strategies changed, often on the spot. Coming from the "boot camp" of my own experience of nine years in Hollywood with the young
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people of the war years, I could speak genuinely and earnestly of the price and sacrifice of dedication and commitment. Obviously, such concepts would not make sense to many perfunctory pew sitters, or even to those taking their first steps following Jesus Christ.
At one time Jesus told his disciples, "I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now" (see John 16:12). Soon, however, there were those for whom these things did make sense and who were eager to receive them and live them out. Both cause and commitment moved more freely to the front in preaching and program. In Sunday-morning services where I was addressing a mixed multitude — often with critical student minds analyzing and questioning what they heard — my sermons were more along the themes of "taste and see that the Lord is good," while the evening service would often offer the challenge "forsake all and follow me."
A handful responded to Christ's call almost from the first hearing of the good news. For them, the Christian life became a way of excitement and fulfillment. As Jesus promised, in giving ourselves away to him, existence began to take on even greater meaning for many. They began to "have life and have it abundantly." It was as simple as that.
It was out of these informal evening services, where the sermon carried the implicit message of commitment, that "My Heart — Christ's Home" seemed to evolve spontaneously. I am not sure why this simple, artless sermon seems to speak so personally and deeply to people about the presence of Christ with them and in them. Of all the hundreds of sermons that I have preached through the years, none has had the life-changing impact and continuing influence of this one. Perhaps it has to do with people's hunger for a faith relationship with Christ and my sharing in the first person various aspects of my own spiritual journey.
A Postwar Miracle
I marvel now at the response to the gospel during the war and the postwar years, especially in my first years in Berkeley. God did more
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than I ever could have imagined. Definitely far beyond human capabilities. At the forefront was the dedication of veterans attending the university, quickly followed by young couples and single adults. Nothing was more moving than to see young men and women quietly trust God enough to give their lives to Christ in committed service both at home and overseas. None of this happened overnight, of course. It takes intention and time for God to grow mature Christian leadership capable of knowing his will for a life decision. But a remarkable number did make the decision, volunteered, went on to spiritual "boot camp" and "officer's training," were assigned to a ship under the flag of the cross and sailed the high seas with Christ their Captain, Friend and Savior.
During the summer of 1951, we ordained twelve young men for ministry into our denomination (PCUSA). As I write these words I hold before me a church bulletin from that year which lists the names of fifty-four men and women, including spouses, who were in seminaries, all preparing for Christian work at home and abroad. At one time, a few years later, we had nineteen missionaries from our church serving in the Middle East, embracing everything from the Sudan and Egypt to Palestine and Syria up to Iraq and Iran and reaching as far as Pakistan — all difficult fields of service. But that was the nature of the times. Youth were ready to endure difficulty, hardship, even danger for a great cause. They were challenged by the human need and the spiritual battle.
Contributing Conditions
History was preparing a canvas for us on which would be sketched the portraits of scores of these men and women who would volunteer to advance the cause of Christ wherever the need was greatest. Most of them are still on the battle lines, serving with distinction. For these recruits of the faith, the disciplines of serving and living out the gospel fit like a glove, and they were up to the challenge. They gave themselves to a battle they knew would count for time and eternity. The context of the day was forwarding the gospel with a mighty surge of spiritual
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energy, a paradox of anxiety and boundless confidence.
The old order was changing. It was an hour of death and birth — a kairos hour. The sovereignty of the Western world over the Third World was fast drawing to a close. Imperial dynasties were passing off the scene. Britain, France, Germany and other powers had been devastated and impoverished. Their roles of leadership no longer could be maintained. Astride the world now were two great powers, America and the Soviet Union, soon to be locked in contest with one another in a fearful expenditure of armaments and precipice diplomacy that would evolve into the Cold War. The nuclear age was upon us, and the antagonists began stockpiling weapons of mass extinction they hoped they would never have to use. The explosion of nuclear power had threatened the existence of humanity.
There was an awesome sense of the possibility of the end of the world in our time. By 1947 some members of our congregation were digging bomb shelters in their own yards to protect their children from what they feared would be a nuclear attack. President Robert Sproul of the University of California at Berkeley came back to the campus after a six-month leave of absence studying the conditions in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, and he solemnly said that within a year's time we might very well be living underground. He made that a public statement in the Greek Theater, as I sat there, realizing the sobriety of the moment.
A Prepared Public
The operative word in business and in our homes was fear. We, too, prepared for the worst by storing food and water so we could shelter people in the basement areas during a nuclear attack. The flip side of this individual and corporate fear was a bold, assertive United States — far more powerful than the Soviets, although we didn't know it at the time — that continued to flex its military and economic biceps at home and abroad. The United Nations was founded, bringing great promise alongside an equally great peril. It was a wild, new age of opportunity.
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We all asked what could be developed for good through the nuclear discoveries and the application of nuclear power as a positive means of energy. The Scientific Age had come of age. But this time, it was more than a technological savior; it had also created the seeds of what could be total destruction.
It was a bipolar time: enormous despair vied with unbridled hope. As we saw and felt America's growing strength, our church recognized the increasing possibilities for witness. We remember General Douglas MacArthur issuing a call from Japan for missionaries, believing that this would be one of the means of reconstruction in Japan. This was the kairos hour, a time of danger and opportunity as hundreds of thousands of veterans returned to civilian life across the country, with tens of thousands crowding into our nation's campuses. UC-Berkeley was the recipient of some of the best and the brightest our country had to offer. What a tremendous challenge to the Christian community to meet and associate with these mature men and women, many of them tough and battle-hardened. For them, risk was a way of life. They had seen it all; they had put their lives on the line. There was no danger too great and no risk too frightening. Those who became followers of Jesus took that same never-say-die attitude and made the next courageous decision to give themselves to an even higher cause: to become warriors for Jesus Christ wherever God might lead them.
For these new soldiers of the faith, the disciplines of preaching and living out the gospel fit like a glove, and they were up to the challenge. They gave themselves to a battle they knew would count for time and eternity. The context of the day forwarded the gospel with a mighty surge of spiritual energy. We were witnessing a prepared public, and history was preparing the canvas on which the portraits of spiritual conquest would be drawn. Unfortunately, there was also a contingent of servicemen who saw the church as an opportunity to build structures and enjoy the social hours more than train and develop themselves for higher Christian service.
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This bent for a life of ease, to the exclusion of commitment and sacrifice to Christ, spawned a mindset that for many affected how they raised their own children — the children of the sixties. A considerable number of the renowned "flower children" were children of these veterans who later gave themselves more to comfort, security, money and success than to a pursuit of life's higher values. The generation of the fifties was largely fed on sawdust and found itself reacting in the sixties to the new I'm Number One mentality. That's why I say it was a crisis hour.
A Prepared People with Prepared Leadership
It was into this exhilarating high-seas engagement that I came as a prepared pastor with a mandate. It was my joy to find an equally prepared people ready to go to work for the cause of the gospel. I found no entrenched resistance. I was not just welcomed; I was welcomed enthusiastically. Even with our reduced numbers and strength, we enjoyed the unity of the Spirit and the bond of God's peace. We were ready to move ahead and believe God was with us. The members of the church made a concerted effort to welcome others. We were becoming a "user-friendly" congregation. The steady growth in attendance aided the recovery of their joy in the Lord. It imparted confidence and made them eager to share with others what they were receiving. I shared with the people excitement and wonder and, at a deeper level, the sovereign grace of God.
At the outset I was not sure how the people would receive me. I was a son of the church. My father and mother had been leaders there, and my mother, my sister and her family were still actively involved in the life of the congregation. I felt somehow that the congregation might still think of me only as a high-school youngster.
Instead, they embraced me as though I was coming home to my own family and heritage, which was true. The congregation felt I knew them and understood them. They saw me as one of their own kind. I spoke
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their language. They appreciated my more informal style of relationships and leadership. Instead of criticizing me as one of their own sons, as parents and congregations often do, the opposite occurred. They defended me and took pride in whatever their "hometown boy" could do. They were not only for me within the church but defensive about any criticism. Without such strong congregational support, I'm sure I would have felt more sharply the arrows of outside critics, questioning the way we conducted our youth conferences, our unapologetic emphasis on evangelism and, to them, our outlandish commitment to foreign missions. Having been humbled by the experiences of the immediate past, the church was now ready to embrace the good news that God was forgiving of their past resentments and criticisms and truly loved them. A fresh touch of his grace stirred their desire to share it.
There was an exceptional core of student leaders in our Calvin Club college department. Most of these were women, and leadership was a task that fell to them largely because during the war manpower had been drafted into the military. These strong, able women, some graduates, some still in school, kept the tradition of Calvin Club alive throughout the war as the largest Christian fellowship at the university. They maintained its strong evangelical witness with a high quality of fellowship and fun.
The elders of the church were a special gift of God. From the depths of my heart I thank the Lord for these earnest, able men, most of them twice my age, who trusted me and let God lead them on into new and daring steps of faith. Their affection, loyal support and quiet faith opened the door for God's Spirit to move and bless. Their positive attitudes quickly influenced others.
Spiritual Awakening Among Students
Immediately following the war, unusual spiritual awakenings startled several evangelical colleges and Bible schools, such as Wheaton, Asbury, Moody Bible Institute and others. In certain large assemblies a powerful
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sense of God's holy presence produced a deep conviction of sin, a brokenness of repentance, tears and utter submission to God, followed by forgiveness, cleansing, boldness of faith and fresh abandonment to the will of God.
Classes were suspended. Entire campuses were caught up in the movement of the Spirit as students, inwardly driven in agony to confess their sins, began to get right with God. Then they remained to pray and encourage others to experience their joy and deliverance. It was my privilege to see it happen at the Moody Bible Institute in February 1947. It came completely unexpectedly and unplanned. It was a work of the Holy Spirit in ways I had never seen before, nor have I seen since. It was a touch of the revivals I had read about in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Its influence was felt by Christian students across the land, particularly evangelical ones, who would quickly pass on the news to others.
In July 1947, Henrietta Mears was holding her annual Sunday-school workers' conference at Forest Home, California, where one hundred or more Sunday-school teachers had come to be taught and inspired by her leadership. Henrietta had just returned from a trip through the razed areas of Europe.
One evening, she shared with the conferees the appalling suffering and destruction she had seen on her trip. She simply poured out her heart as she saw the saving power of Christ as the only hope of the world. It was a Spirit-enlightened message, stirring the hearers to the depths. After the meeting she gathered a few of her student assistants, summer interns, to pray with her in her cabin. Among them were Bill Bright, Lou Evans Jr., Dick Halverson, Bill Dunlop, Jack Frank and an equal number of young women. (Henrietta was ahead of her time in encouraging women to engage in important ministry roles.) As they continued in prayer, there was given a burden for a world racked in agony and despair.
Toward midnight they had a visitation of the Holy Spirit. There
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unfolded a vision of Christian students of America volunteering in a spiritual counteroffensive against the overwhelming forces of evil still dealing death, destruction and misery to millions in Europe and Asia after the holocaust of World War II. The vision included a mission. They were to begin a spiritual crusade to call Christian students to carry the banner of the cross where the need was greatest.
On into the early morning they talked and prayed, sensing they had been given an empowerment by God's Spirit to call the Christian youth of America to reach the non-Christian youth of the world. Their mission would be so to share Christ with the students they were able to reach that these in turn would spread out and touch their world with the gospel, which would create the possibility for lasting peace, sanity and salvation. They were to start immediately, and that they did. They renamed the coming conference, now calling it the College Briefing Conference, suggesting its almost military purpose of engaging in action for their cause. On her knees with the others, Dr. Mears saw a means of launching this new twentieth-century crusade.
Time was short. The conference was only six weeks away. There was no established network, no special funds. Some five hundred students were expected to attend, attracted by a call to sacrifice, to volunteer heart and soul to the cause of Christ. Believe me, God was in it. I, for one, bear witness as one participating in the preparation. But there was a supernatural power which seemed to spark and enable arrangements with electric communication and excitement. It seemed as though God himself was making all the complex arrangements, arousing interest in students and bringing all together, some not knowing why they had come.
The grapevine communicated that something was happening among Christian students. They crowded the conference all during the week far beyond capacity — possibly seven hundred in all. These were the seeds of a spiritual awakening. It was something God did without the planning of any particular church or small group. We could sense the Spirit of
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God bending low over the earth, encouraging all of us to feel the same sense of expendability for the cause of Christ — the same earnestness that was hitting Christian campuses in other places. Students were beginning to see a spiritually starving world through the eyes of Christ. God was at work. His Spirit was blowing over manmade barriers, and those winds blew right into the ministry at Berkeley, filling our the sails billowing with the breeze of the Spirit.
This movement of God in the hearts of students added to my excitement and fueled my fire to fulfill the mandate given me as a pastor in a university environment. From the first, I had told the church my reason for being at Berkeley would be to present "the whole gospel to the whole world by the whole congregation," supported by Christ-honoring love and life. I took the mandate I had been given at Tahoe, and I reformulated it in line with the principles I had shared with the pastor-seeking committee and session at the time of my call. I share the list of these principles here as an encouragement to the reader, with the profound belief that they are as true and potent today as they were half a century ago.
Nine Guiding Principles
1. Our ministry was to be centered in the person of Jesus Christ. He is the source of our life, our Lord and our Savior, our triumphant and coming King. The heart of everything Christian is to trust God revealed in Jesus Christ, to trust Christ fully and follow him faithfully by the Holy Spirit who dwells in the heart of every believer and communicates his presence and provision. Christ is the center of all.
2. We agreed our ministry would be supported by Scripture, "the only infallible rule of faith and life." We were a Bible-believing congregation, fully aware of and obedient to the historical, exegetical studies of the Old and New Testaments. We were convinced that we held in our hands God's Word, the only infallible rule of faith and life, a trustworthy disclosure of God's ways with his creatures and a trustworthy record of the
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way of salvation. Our job was to preach it, teach it, study it, trust it, obey it and assimilate it into every area of our lives.
3. We believed a fresh hands-on ministry was to be led by the laity. The men on the session whom I had inherited as the incoming pastor had executed their offices with ability and with all earnestness. They felt they were responsible for the welfare of God's people in that congregation, and they applied what they were learning in their secular responsibilities to their work within the church. They did what they were expected to do with the knowledge they had. It was a marvelous beginning with a quality of lay responsibility and leadership I had not seen in my previous congregations. I quickly learned I could trust them, so I encouraged them to carry on their various offices, praying that the Father would guide us and use us for his glory as he chose.
4. As a people we were to be bonded in Christ's love, looking to him to impart the love we needed to love one another even as he had loved us. We would ask him for the grace we would need in order to maintain a spirit of unity in the bond of peace, enjoying the wonder of his presence. At a future point, when the cry of spiritual loneliness was clearly heard, the dynamics of "life together" in the body of Christ moved to the front.
5. We would allow this mutual love of Christ and one another to permeate our lives and motivate us for mission. I knew that if there was to be any ultimate spiritual success within our congregation, it would be because of this deep, abiding commitment to care for others. We would be committed to an outreach to the entire world. Our church would look beyond itself to the needs and lostness of hearts and souls of people wherever they might be. We would serve Christ by representing him to the ends of the earth with the good news of the gospel. This, of course, was the special mandate I had been given at Tahoe. So my prayers and efforts moved in that direction. In various ways God held my feet to the fire until I was able to communicate to many in our congregation the enormous potential and privilege of world mission.
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6. We agreed we would care for the bodies as well as for the souls of our neighbors. We would seek to love our neighbors as ourselves. I did not see this in the first years as clearly as I did during my last year at Berkeley and then in Seattle. Nevertheless, the awareness was there, and we would make the commitment to love our neighbors as ourselves, to touch and reach the whole person, body and soul.
7. We encouraged our people to team together for maturity, mission and guidance. My understanding of the nature and importance of teaming developed in the following years and became a major value for ministry while I was experiencing it in action during the 1970s at Fuller Seminary. I'm now convinced that teaming is essential to protect, direct and empower Christian leadership today. We would help each person as an important member of the team to fulfill God's commission for us. Yes, we were individuals. But we wanted to be more than that. We would be a body, strong, energized, committed to allowing the Spirit of God to lead us in ways impossible as isolated individuals. We were convinced that no one person could do the job of ministry or crosscultural mission alone. If anything of significance was to be accomplished, it would be done together, with Christ as the center.
8. We emphasized the empowerment of the Holy Spirit through prayer. This was the ministry of the congregation. From the outset this principle was practiced whenever an executive group, a committee or just a few people gathered for even the smallest function. It was understood that first we would recognize our needs and endeavor to place them before the Father and ask for his guidance, control and blessing.
If Jesus prayed all night before he called the twelve disciples to serve, if he prayed until sweat as great drops of blood fell to the ground as he wrestled through his commitment to the will of God on the cross, then to follow Christ in any degree of redemptive effectiveness meant we also must spend time in prayer. This is the truth most growing congregations know and practice, but in static or dwindling churches it is invariably ignored. To attempt to do supernatural business with
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merely natural abilities ultimately is futile. It simply does not work. We must take God seriously and be willing to let him operate the business as we pray and let him do his work in his way.
I believed him and endeavored with limited ability to make prayer primary both for myself and for others who were traveling with me in Christ. A favorite author of mine at the time was S.D. Gordon, who asserted that prayer clears the field of battle; service merely occupies. I believed him, and I endeavored to man my own artillery piece and encourage others to make prayer primary for spiritual action. It is my prayer that today's churches will become worshiping bodies of believers with a genuine heartfelt praise to God for all he is and all he does. In our current secular society, so barren of bright hope and so full of fears and anxieties, I would make worship, thanksgiving and an exaltation of the triune God the centerpiece of every aspect of congregational life.
9. We would let God lift us above self and circumstance through worship and praise. We would worship the Lord in thanksgiving. The words of the Thanksgiving hymn would prayerfully be on our lips:
We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known;
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing,
Sing praises to His name: He forgets not His own.Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;
So from the beginning the fight we were winning:
Thou, Lord, wast at our side, all glory be Thine!We all do extol thee, Thou Leader triumphant,
And pray that Thou still our Defender wilt be.
Let Thy congregation escape tribulation:
Thy name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!
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Pastor Jack Hayford has a booklet entitled "The Heart of Praise." In it he tells the story of how he began his ministry of the Church on the Way with only twenty members. They decided their primary purpose would be to praise God and make the service one of worship and exalting the Lord. That small band of believers wanted to lift up a testimony, simply pointing to the sovereign grace of God who triumphs over all things. Pastor Jack's church began on its knees, and that's the way it continues with its multiplied thousands today. The hymn "Majesty," which he wrote, reflects the key to any vibrant, relevant ministry. To worship his majesty attracts and builds the people of God, bringing love, joy and peace when offered from the heart.
I see this more clearly now than I did then, that always God's glory is worthy of my adoration. His mercy and grace evoke praise and rejoicing in his goodness. Together, God gives us an experience of divine reality. God's greatness and power and love are seen when "the things of earth grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace." A knowledge of who God is and what he has done for us opens the heart to a fresh flow of God's love, joy and peace with fresh faith and heart for obedient action.
These nine guidelines for the renewal and mission of the church and the spiritual development of the people pretty much summarize what I have learned through my years of ministry.
Applying the Principles
We were not a perfect people. Every church has its problems, and Berkeley was no exception. But even during times of stress and difficulty we were blessed with a surprising degree of unity. There was general agreement on who we were in Christ and what we were to be about. The pulpit, of course, was the natural rallying point for giving direction to the entire congregation.
Looking back and evaluation the spiritual development of our student leadership, I see that, without question, one of the most important
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things I did was to gather a few interested students to meet with me for fellowship and prayer at 4:30 on Saturday afternoons.
We asked each other how we were doing and how we could pray for each other. I would read a paragraph from Scripture, give a few comments and share my understanding of its value and meaning. Often I would read a few pages from the life of a Christian leader or great missionary to quicken their interest to follow in the pattern of the great, challenging leaders of the past. We would then talk about how we could apply those proven principles in our own situation on campus or with Calvin Club leadership.
I would also share with them my needs as a pastor. I felt I could be more honest and open with these young men than I could with the congregation in general, because I knew that they were with me in a common commitment. We recognized that some of our overenthusiastic evangelistic efforts were less than effective, and we discarded them in the interest of being more responsible and effective. But these were all lessons important to the understanding of the complexities and opportunities of being a Christian in a secular society.
Without being fully aware of what was happening or of the importance of those hours together, we saw a large number of the students who offered themselves as expendables for Christ anywhere in the world come out of that fellowship. With the growth of the congregation and the delegation of responsibilities to others, the composition of the congregation moved toward people of mature age, but the Saturday-afternoon pattern continued with the younger ones. For me, those Saturdays were treasured as a high point of close fellowship in Christ, bonding us together in his love and praying together in the power of the Holy Spirit. Only later did I figure out that the most effective thing God had given me to do was to motivate and develop Christian leadership for world service. From that group came the influential pace-setters for world ministry and mission mentioned earlier in this chapter.
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Keeping Spiritually Fit
As the ministry developed in Berkeley and became more complicated with increasing size and multiplied programs, my daily hour of devotional Bible reading and prayer was not adequate to keep me in close touch with God. I found it necessary to put in my calendar stated times when I would be alone with him. About once a month I would drive up to a remote spot high in the hills above the university, only a matter of minutes away. The teeming cities of Oakland, San Jose and San Francisco were spread out before me, and I could see the Golden Gate which headed to the ends of the earth.
In that setting I would remain alone for the morning and sometimes into the afternoon, seeking a fresh word from God through Scripture, prayer and the Holy Spirit. Given my diabetes, fasting was not practical. The with multiplied responsibilities came innumerable interruptions, emergencies and demands, further complicated by conferences, outside appointments, speaking engagements and denominational boards on the national level making their demands. Soon a monthly extended appointment with God was scheduled in my date book as seriously as a blood transfusion for one with leukemia. It was my means of restoring my soul, of correcting my course and my conduct, assuring me of his covenant promises and the task remaining for me to do. To this day, for me, time alone with God — both daily and protracted — is absolutely essential.
Pastor's Home Base
I wish now that I had been more aware of my primary ministry to my family. Why did I not see this at the time? When I began my ministry, it was expected of a pastor to put the church above himself and the family. I see so clearly now that the family should have priority for any pastor, not only for spouse and children but for himself.
When I married Edie, she was secretary to Dr. Stewart MacLennan, minister of the large First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood, whose
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Sunday-evening radio expositions were heard up and down the Pacific coast. So she knew what she was getting into! A loving companion, a marvelous hostess, a gifted manager, she quickly showed me I could trust her to take care of all our household affairs. After a lifetime together, I feel even more fully that she is the one person in all the world for me!
Edie was still an undergraduate. College women, knowing she was a student on their campus with them and sensing her interest and understanding, were attracted to her. They clustered about her on Saturday mornings in our home to talk over their concerns, problems and feelings about themselves.
Edie soon reached out for further professional training to be of more help to them and others. After completing the half-finished bachelor's degree in English literature that she had started before we were married, she went on to receive a master's degree in counseling psychology. During my next charge, in Seattle, she completed another master's in social work, at the University of Washington. While I was at Fuller Theological Seminary, she fulfilled long-time dream by earning a Ph.D. in clinical psychology, and since then she has been practicing as a clinical psychologist while giving me support in my ministry.
In all of this she gave priority to our children, Marilyn and Monica, and made sure she was always at home when they returned from school. She participated in the life of the congregation, involving herself as she had time along with her roles as mother, wife, student and spouse of the pastor. I marvel at how she was able to keep her priorities and put it all together so ably while she pursued her profession as a psychologist.
Edie, our girls and I continued to enjoy August together at our vacation home in the Santa Cruz Mountains at Mount Hermon. The girls say that they really got to know me as a father through the stories I would tell them as I put them to bed every night and through our hours at the beach in the afternoons, the associations with a few friends with children
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of the same age as ours, and just relishing our time together. Those were joyful weeks for me and a happy time for them. The only problem, Edie would say, was that I was always so wiped out by weariness the first week of our vacation that I would simply drop out of all family participation. Obviously I was overstretched.
The Growing Organism
For vibrant health, any organism needs appropriate exercise as well as good food and drink. The same is true for the spiritual growth and strength of a congregation and for individual Christians. Exercise is vital: doing things for others, loving, caring and serving in the name of Christ. The primary service we were seeking to render to others during those years was to share the good news about Jesus Christ — both with those near at hand, through evangelism, and with those at a distance, through world mission. Not until I had learned the hard lessons of the sixties did I become aware of the equal importance of loving the neighbor who is right beside us, through a concern for civil rights and social justice.
Efforts in Evangelism
In the exercise of evangelism, the situation was different in Berkeley from that of South Hollywood, primarily because we were now in an academic community where students and university graduates were disciplined in learning to think for themselves. They were told not to make commitments until they had thoroughly investigated or thought through whatever the appeal for action might be. Therefore, to give an invitation at the end of the sermon and expect people to be ready for a response was not helpful.
Earl Palmer, in recent years, and in the same situation in Berkeley, has made it clear that his evangelism was first to expose the hearer, student or reader to Jesus Christ himself as we find him in the New Testament: to help the person understand who Jesus is, what he has said and what he has done, and thus to build confidence in his trustworthiness.
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That was also my approach, although not as well articulated. I too desired to help people get to know enough about Jesus to be willing to experiment, to know more, to venture, to take a step forward, even simply to begin to pray for light. Then, as they would follow the first flicker in obedience, more light would illumine their way. Faith grows one step at a time until there is strength enough to make the large commitment of trusting oneself wholly to Christ. First, we trust him for his forgiveness, acknowledging him as our personal Savior; then, in love, we surrender all to him for his control and direction. Though it all happens in a moment of crisis for some individuals, for most of us it is a process.
I learned early in my ministry that authentic steps of faith in Jesus Christ seldom come about through a Sunday-morning worship service. The significant work was accomplished in the small groups, the summer conferences, the fellowship times and the personal conversations. I endeavored to point a person to Jesus Christ, help him or her understand who Jesus is, then invite the person to venture at least a short step of faith — to follow him in the light that was already available so that more light might be given. If I gave an invitation, it would not be to come forward to make a decision for Christ. It would be, "We have further information if you desire some help in getting to know God personally in Jesus Christ." I would then encourage them to come forward. An elder or one of the staff would talk to them either personally or in a small group. We wanted them to ask questions; we were eager to find out where they were in their lives, and we endeavored to respond appropriately to their point of need.
I inaugurated a class on Wednesday nights at 9:00, after the midweek service, on the credibility of Christianity. It was limited to those who were not believers. People were not allowed to join that group if they already were a member of the fellowship or a convinced Christian. They could bring a friend, however, and stay just one time with their acquaintance. We usually would have ten or fifteen in attendance each week.
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Joining me in leading the group was one sharp senior student who could answer the students' questions better than I could. Between the two of us we managed quite well. I encourage any pastor or youth leader to take the risk of starting such a class. It will keep you sharp, and your vulnerability will help make you a more effective communicator and servant.
Looking back, I remember two spectactular examples of how God worked in people's lives through that class. One young man was an avowed believer in communist doctrine and a foremost critic of Christianity; nevertheless, he continued to search for more and more truth. We challenged him to read the original sources of Christianity before making a judgment about any person or movement. Before long, the Gospels got hold of him and so stirred him that he found it interfered with his job as a printer of fine art. He took a day off and drove his car to a quiet place, determined to decide for or against the gospel. He decision turned his life around and led him to graduate study in England and then service in Mexico with the Quaker "Friends" organization.
The first night of the class I had invited Dr. Thaddeus Hoyt Ames, a Christian psychiatrist from New York City. We developed a close relationship while he was in Berkeley, and out of that friendship came a rare human experience. I invited him to come to our group as an exception to the rule, because he wanted to know what was going on and to observe it. I knew I could count on him to handle questions from students who often were more emotional than rational in their arguments. Early in the session one hostile student challenged me by asking, "Do you believe in hell?" After a momentary pause, Dr. Ames turned to the student and with a surprised look on his face said, "You mean you don't? That turned the tables around, putting the young man on the defensive. His reasons for denial were not very convincing even to himself. After the rest of us left that evening, Dr. Ames counseled with the young man. His hostility against God arose from the pain of a father
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who had deserted his family without even a farewell. Dr. Ames taught me much that evening, especially not to be fearful of those who are angry at God.
My own knowledge of Christ came from a derelict cry at sea: "Lord, help me; show me the light that I may walk in it." That became the formula of my own gospel presentation. First, pray for light that God himself will help you know who he is. Allow him to go to work on the inside with your own thinking and feeling, ask him to reveal himself to you, and then go on with him from there. I found this more productive than endeavoring to reason and rationalize truth with my own intellectual limitations. Also it had been my own experience. I had cried out in the darkness at sea. I did want light. A month later it was given. Both the cry and the answer were real. Reality communicates.
Here's a key point that sums up my entire Berkeley experience: The faith of students and the congregation grew more by walking in the light than by sometimes impulsive and radical decisions. The decision times were at our conferences, where we had opportunity to enjoy warm, close fellowship — where decisions could be made in the close community of love. Dr. Dick Halverson, later chaplain to the United States Senate, has a great paper titled "Community as the Context of Evangelism," in which he says the best evangelism is done with the support of loving friends in a fellowship of believers. Only when we're free to ask questions and to have some light cast upon our intellectual problems can there be the kind of faith that will be supported later. If we move on the basis of our feelings alone, without satisfying our intellectual reservations, our decisions will tend to be short-lived and unsatisfactory. God wants to have us know the truth, to understand, and to put our faith in Jesus Christ, the Way, the Truth and the Life.
Six Approaches to Evangelism
Bill Hybels, pastor of Willow Creek Community Church in Illinois, writes about "stereotyping evangelism" in his bestseller Honest to God.
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Bill gives six categories for evangelism that are appropriate at some times for some people but are not appropriate at all times for all people. Perhaps from this short list which I have paraphrased you will discover how God may use you most effectively in sharing your faith. Evangelism can be
1. Confrontational. We all know that some people will come to Christ only if they are knocked over the head and confronted with someone like a brash Peter. Fortunately, God has equipped certain believers with a combination of personality, gifts and desires that makes it natural for them to confront others. If this is your gift, use it as an appropriately aggressive salesperson for Christ.
2. Intellectual. Though he could be confrontational like Peter, the apostle Paul often used an intellectual approach to evangelism. What about you? Are you comfortable giving "reasons for the hope that is within you"?
3. Testimonial. The blind beggar who had been healed by Jesus had only a few words in response: "One thing I do know: I was blind, but now I see." Many seekers of truth don't need to hear a sermon. All they need is a solid, sane, normal Christian to share with them, "Here's what God has done to change my life."
4. Relational. Some people are effective communicators right where they are, loved and trusted by others. Uncomfortable talking with strangers about matters of faith, they are able to share freely with friends and colleagues. These people may not be good knocking on doors and passing out tracts, but they should be encouraged to cultivate their regular contacts through prayerful purpose and intention, seeking opportunities to share the good news.
5. Invitational. This is the "come and hear" evangelist. If you are bashful or afraid to go toe-to-toe with individuals in assertive evangelism, ask them to come and hear a message, to enjoy a holiday service, a concert or a play on a Christian theme. This is one of the most overlooked forms of evangelism today. If this is your style of sharing
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Jesus, then you might say, "My goal is to fill a row of pews."
6. Serving. One of the most endearing people in Scripture is a woman named Dorcas. She probably never knocked on a door or preached a sermon, but she did something wonderful: through her acts of service she pointed people to her God, who could transform human hearts and fill them with love (Acts 9). If you are one who feels most comfortable serving, you are among the most valued of evangelists.
There are many ways to let the light of God shine through us. The important thing is to love people around us enough to make an effort, using the ways which we find comfortable and satisfying and venturing out in faith.
The Korean War — Threat of Nuclear Destruction
While we were on vacation at Mount Hermon in August 1950, the Korean War broke out. It seemed to us at that time that we might be involved in a nuclear holocaust. In due course China got into the fight, with Russia's nonbelligerent support, changing the entire war scenario. In those early months of the war there was almost universal anxiety that this could indeed trigger a nuclear engagement. The first week of that vacation I had been reading the two-volume work on the life of J. Hudson Taylor written by Mrs. Howard Taylor. I was immersed in thoughts of world mission. But when news of hostilities hit, ultimate issues became immediately relevant. I prayed, Lord, what should we do? In two or three months we may have a nuclear holocaust, with San Francisco a probable nuclear target. What should the role of the Berkeley church be? I wrestled with these questions. First of all, I knew that those of us in Christ were secure. I believed that to die and be with Christ promised to be far better than the present. Edie, the girls and I were everlastingly safe. I knew I did not need to worry about the future of my own family. But the family of the people of God, the larger community of faith at the church, was a concern to me. What about them? What if we have only a matter of months before there is an obliteration
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of the whole Bay Area? Earnestly I interceded. "Lord, what would you have me do? What priority should I give in these next months? It's most important that I know."
After three or four mornings knocking on the door of heaven, I became frustrated when there was no clear answer. Then I sensed, prompted by the Spirit of God I trust, that he was saying, Munger, why are you asking me this question? You know very well what my will is. I told it to you in the Great Commission and at the end of all four of the Gospels. It that were not enough, I've given you the entire book of Acts to explain how important it is to be witnesses, first at Jerusalem and then to the ends of the world. You know already what to do. Now do it. Just do it.
My reply was, "But Lord, how is that possible? We have pressing financial needs to operate the local church program. Can we function effectively and still devote energy to missionary emphasis?"
God brought me up short. Do you not think I'm able to do it for you? Now trust me and simply do what I say.
The Venture of Obedience
After further prayer, I resolved that when I got back to Berkeley I would present the session with the suggestion that we challenge the people to give to world mission as they were led. At that time we used the duplex envelope system where people could give both to current operations of the church and to benevolences or missions. I consulted with a few of the leaders of the session and then risked recommending to the board that we take our hands off and let God's people give as the Spirit led them. We would trust the Lord to supply our local need.
The first person to come to me upon my return was my associate, the Reverend Bill Antablin. Early in our conversation, before I had mentioned my experience, he said, "Bob, you know Florence and I have been much in prayer about the will of God for us. We've been here now going on four years, and we have prayerfully thought it all through. We feel our place is on the mission field. We have applied to our board of
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mission in New York, and they have accepted our application. We now plan, at the conclusion of this school year in June, to proceed in an appointment to Lebanon, where my parents were born. We both feel this is God's place for us."
Wow! So there it was. Bill committed before I had even shared with him what had happened to me. It sealed and empowered our confidence that God was in this new step. It was an order that came directly from above: Get going further on the mandate!
We shared our mutual confirmation of God's plan with the staff, and they quickly got on board with us. All this happened within a matter of days of my return. That jolted the session, because they felt their responsibility to care for the funds entrusted to them. The proposal was taken under advisement until the next month. At that next meeting, a humble man with a heart for God rose to his feet — Mr. Ralph Pettis. I can still see him standing before us, twirling his spectacles in his right hand. With unusual conviction, he gave a final word after the long debate. "Brothers," he said, "we have been talking about the importance of mission all the time I've been in this congregation, and yet we've never had enough courage to put our action where our mouth is. We've never given the people an opportunity to do the will of God as they choose. Don't we really trust them? Don't we really trust God?" Nothing more needed to be said.
Within three or four years the benevolence giving by choice of the donors built up, with fifty percent for world mission and the other fifty percent for local needs. To the amazement of some, but not all of us, the local work also flourished. Every year God miraculously seemed to respond. In due course, during the last three years, we were also in a building program. The the offerings were divided into thirds: equal amounts for local benevolences, world mission and the new building. Yet the amount for world mission continually increased. God so blessed that when I left for Seattle, we were paying for the building and still continuing to handle the other two 50-50. It was a marvelous demonstration
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of how God supplies the means when we are about his will. When we trust him enough to sacrifice, the lesson is simply "trust and obey."
The term "faith giving" was current. We understood it to mean venturing beyond estimated income so that God would have an opportunity to supply our needs supernaturally and thus increase our faith. That's what 2 Corinthians 9:8 was all about. For some, it seemed a bold, revolutionary method of trusting God. But it worked. Somehow funds came in to enable us to meet our commitments. It was an exciting time. Numbers of us learned that the second tithe is easier than the first. As a result of this emphasis, I believe the congregation was an encouragement to other churches for obedient trust in God to carry out his own work.
An Expanding Vision
In 1954 God was good to give Edie and me another, closer and more comprehensive look at a world in need. Bishop Jacob of the Church of South India invited me to hold a six-week mission in his diocese in Kerala. Our priority contacts were missionaries from our own congregation and denomination. The intention was to extend a word of greeting and encouragement, then return with a firsthand report. Naturally, we took advantage of every opportunity to learn more and visit Christian enterprises and individuals about whom we had heard. There is no better way to see a country than through the eyes and heart of veteran missionaries. We stopped in Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Thailand and North India. The most exciting ministry was in Kerala, with an interpreter and faithful servant who traveled with us and took good care of us. We went from industrial cities to hill people, and from jungle villages to educational centers, staying for three or four days in each location. We attended the vast Maramon Convention of the Mar Thoma Church, where forty thousand Christians sat on mats on the sand of the dry river bed under a pundle (roof of palm branches) and heard E. Stanley Jones and others.
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The exposure issued in an unexpected insight to the primary contribution our congregation could make to the missionary cause. More important than numbers of missionaries or adequate funds to forward the cause of the gospel was the sending of mature, discipled servants of the gospel — the kind of people able to communicate their faith, establish churches and reproduce others committed to Christ. What impressed me was the impact those from our Berkeley church had been making in Asia and the Middle East. Both the recent ones, whom I knew personally, and the veterans sent out under Dr. Lapsley McAfee, who was pastor thirty years before, stood head and shoulders above the others, it seemed to me, in quality of Christian leadership and productivity. In our American churches there are thousands of earnest, dedicated pastors, but not all are visibly bearing much fruit. It was the same on the mission field. Sending people overseas or to a spot of spiritual need does not guarantee they will be productive and see the results in changed lives.
So we wanted to do a better job in preparing people to be effective, spiritually productive servants of Christ. The Billy Graham San Francisco Crusade of 1957 offered a marvelous boost and encouragement. Over three hundred of our members were trained in personal evangelism for use as counselors in the crusade, which lasted for six weeks at the San Francisco Cow Palace. Experiencing the benefit of the training one night a week for four weeks, they wanted to learn more about how to be effective in sharing their faith and being prepared to meet their opportunities. Many were ready to give time and effort to that purpose. That led to a regular Wednesday-evening curriculum at the church called "Encounter with Revolution," with a variety of staff-led classes incorporating principles from the Nine Guidelines. This was experimental and tentative but gave evidence that God's people were ready and willing to be active followers of their Lord — obviously not everyone in the congregation, but the representative few chose to venture the journey of faith in earnest.
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Spiritual Warfare — Faith Tested
The postwar years in Berkeley were not a smooth succession of uncontested spiritual victories. Quite the contrary. I found myself engaged in a conflict of cosmic dimensions, with the powers of truth fighting those of falsehood, light vs. darkness, the kingdom of God vs. the forces of evil, Christ and his followers vs. Satan and the demonic host. Since that time I have learned more about spiritual warfare, but much of it was a mystery to me at the time.
There were remarkable breakthroughs of faith and new life, countered by savage counterattacks of the enemy — each event part of an ever-developing plan we could not grasp. Elements of revival in the historic pattern of Wesley and Finney seemed to be all around us. With a small group of student leaders, we prayed for renewal of faith and life — for our congregation to have a true spiritual awakening. We believed renewal was possible and near at hand. This was strengthened as we heard news of the Holy Spirit interrupting classes during a five-day mission to students at the Moody Bible Institute in which long lines waited patiently to make public confession of their sins and seek restoration with God, in brokenness crying out to God for mercy and pleading for power to live a godly life. And we heard that God was doing it in greater measure at Asbury and Wheaton colleges. "Why not at Berkeley?" we prayed.
Spiritual Battle at Forest Home
The second wave of attack came during the summer of 1948 at our Forest Home College Briefing Conference. The students had been studying Navigator materials when tension began to develop between those who were "into the disciplines" and those who were not. Those who were regularly studying the Bible, memorizing Scripture and praying were tempted to think of themselves as spiritual giants. At least that was the way some of the more intellectual students viewed them. Others desired a more intellectual support for their faith, more rational, less experiential.
At that second college briefing conference, Dick Halverson challenged
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students to join "the fellowship of the burning heart," asking students to agree to spend an hour a day in Bible study and prayer. Our group returned to Berkeley with some division. Two or three of our promising future leaders quietly backed away. A more balanced, understanding approach would have kept them growing and contributing their gifts to the Calvin Club fellowship. I felt responsible in a very real sense. I should have taken their feelings more seriously, given special time to them, listened to their complaints and sought God's answer to their problems. It is a lesson I have not forgotten.
During that same Forest Home conference, I came down with Type I diabetes. As I was flown to a Bay Area hospital for observation, the experience itself became an unusual testing of my own faith, because during the conference I had offered myself as "an expendable" to God. The decision had come at a crisis time in the conference when the destiny of six hundred students seemed to be at stake.
But was I willing to be expendable?
In the hospital my own doctor's anxiety and apprehension didn't help. I was uncomfortable with the way he handled me. He seemed to be frightened and confused, not knowing how to treat me. He was so fearful that his concern also filtered through to one of the nurses, whom I thought I heard say to her replacement, "He is terminal." After that, the nurses seemed to be treating me with special concern. I knew little about diabetes except that my father's close associate had died of it a few years before. After a long night and day of struggle, by the grace of God, finally I could say, "Lord, the sharpest pain will be leaving Edie and the girls, but your will be done." And his peace was imparted. It was my second encounter with death.
Once again I found the Lord trustworthy. The adjustment to a rigid diet and insulin injections drained me of time and energy when I seemed to need it most. But the covenant was still in force, the mandate still held; God was faithfully fulfilling his promises, diabetes or not. The Forest Home conference ended in a glorious victory for
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God in hundreds of young lives.
That was my baptism into spiritual warfare. The attacks had not ceased, but my confidence in the power of God had grown. He is able to meet and master them. So I entered the fall of 1948 at a low point physically. Spiritually I had been thrown off balance, disoriented, unable to take advantage of the many usual means of renewal, such as energy for protracted prayer. Paradoxically and wonderfully, God was quietly at work that very year gathering many incoming students whom he would lead into ministries at home and abroad. Spiritually, it amy have been the most productive year in my ministry.
I want to say a word about the testing of my faith during those days. For one thing, it was never easy. With every new opportunity came new challenges, but always with new victories appearing in the course of time. In the first years particularly, 1947-1951, we were engaged in intense spiritual warfare. There were elements of great spiritual advance, but we had also opened ourselves for counterattack by the enemy. I was praying positively for the advance of the gospel. I prayed not only that God would show us renewal in the local congregation but also that he would give us the pattern of renewal that he had given his people in the past.
I was praying for advance, but I was not praying defensively. I was not praying the Lord's Prayer. Lead us not into testing, but deliver us from the enemy, from the evil one — I had not prayed that way. As a result, I was wide open to attack from the enemy, and so was the church. Then it was that I learned to pray defensively.
I was now fifty years old. Where could I best serve God in my remaining years? Was there another strategic situation where I could be used to encourage "world Christians" for service? I felt my mandate in Berkeley was concluding. I did not want to stay too long and have the church enter a stage of decline. In the providence of God he gave me a new challenge. Without this fresh mandate and refreshing infusion of power I would not have had the ability to meet the developing crisis that made Berkeley front-page news across the land.
