Baling Wire and Chewing
Gum
Many a fellow is praying for rain with
his tub the wrong side up.
Sam P. Jones,
Evangelist
Two unique facts about Paul of Tarsus may occasionally be underplayed, if not overlooked, by people who make their living expounding theology. The first is that the famous apostle to the Gentiles received his biblical training in Jerusalem at the feet of one man, the eminent Pharisee, Rabbi Gamaliel (so he informed a crowd in Acts 22:3). The second is that Paul's call to preach the gospel was inextricably woven with his conversion to Jesus Christ. When Paul was still blinded from his Damascus road encounter with his Lord, the Damascus disciple Ananias was informed by the same Lord that Paul was a "chosen vessel to Me, to bear My name before the nations" (Acts 9:15, author's translation).
In many churches today ministerial training begins with the first year of college and continues for seven or eight years, to be climaxed by a seminary degree. The fledgling is exposed to everything from Hebrews to hermeneutics to homiletics, after which he or she is turned out to face the grim reality of the religious market. Unlike
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most theologues today, but more like the apostle Paul, Michael MacIntosh never saw the inside of a Bible school or theological seminary. Instead he sat under one man for nearly five years. Every minute he could spare, day or night, he spent with Chuck Smith. He watched this man, studied him, followed him more than once through the Bible, observed his preaching and evangelistic methods and his reactions to all kinds of people and situations.
The young man who used to spend time on the beach picking up bottles or just lying around now began to make himself useful at Calvary Chapel. Did some drifter need to be counseled about psychedelic drugs? "Hey, I'll be glad to do it." Was some new Christian wanting to start a home Bible study? "I'll come and teach it." He trailed around after staff members asking them, "How do I get into the ministry? What do you do?" In most churches the answer would have been, "Finish your college work, son, and we'll see you get into our seminary" or "Better put in for a good Bible school." The advice he got at Calvary Chapel was, "Just make yourself available and pray. God will work it out."
The problem was that in 1971 Michael's time wasn't his own. He was supposed to be on the road introducing Orange County and Los Angeles to the unspeakable blessings of burglar alarms. Furthermore, he owed money all over southern California and had been in the financial pits ever since the FBI had been to see him four years earlier about that bogus check he had cashed in Florida on an Oregon bank. In 1969 he went so far as to fill out forms for declaring Chapter 11 bankruptcy and gave them to his brother-in-law, the attorney. But for some reason Jim Riddet put the papers in a drawer and never did file them.
After he was reunited with Sandra and his family, Michael was confirmed more strongly than ever in his calling to a full-time ministry, but with a difference: he
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wanted the whole world to know the marvel of God's love. Was he personally qualified for such a gigantic undertaking? Why not? Nobody could get by him now. "If their marriage is broken, I can tell them what the Lord did for me. If they've blown their minds with drugs, I can tell them who will put them together. If they are drunks, I can tell them who will dry them out. If they've lost all their money, I can point to the One who will make them fiscally responsible. If they're filled with bitterness, I can tell them how to be filled with the Spirit. If they're tempted, I can tell them about the Great Overcomer. If they have a bad self-image, I can offer them a Christ-image. No matter how weak they are or how many failures they've had, I know that Jesus will love them and forgive them and that He can work a miracle in their lives the way He did for me."
Meanwhile Calvary Chapel had launched a new venture. Some of the young musicians had cut a recording of Christian rock, which they called "The Everlasting Living Jesus Concert." It combined the talents of Love Song, Blessed Hope, Country Faith, and other groups and vocalists. To produce it, Chuck Smith formed a small, subsidiary, nonprofit company which he called "Maranatha! Music." When Michael heard about it he went to Laverne Romaine, a former marine sergeant major who was now assistant to Pastor Chuck. "I feel," he said, "that God is telling me to get this record out for Him."
"Are you a salesman?" asked Romaine dubiously.
"Yeah."
"A good salesman?"
"I was a master salesman for Fiat cars. I can do it."
"Well," said Romaine, "if you plan to do this in the flesh, you won't sell these records, but if God is calling you then they'll sell."
Bob Ward, president of Tel-Alarm, heard what was happening
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and called Michael into his office. "Mike," he said, "you can't be double-minded and you know it. Either you're working for me or you're working for Maranatha."
It was quite a step for a penurious bridegroom of two months who was now head of a family of four, but he took it. In June of 1971 Michael switched from alarm squeals to sacred music. First he rustled two shoe boxes, one to hold receipts and the other the consignment money. Then he stacked his garage with record supplies and started making the rounds of Christian bookstores in the surrounding counties. He was driving a sixty-five dollar 1961 Plymouth Valiant that spewed stuffing from its seats, had upholstery lining hanging down, and was missing its second gear.
"I've got this great record," he would tell his customers. "The Lord has really anointed these musicians. You've got to buy it."
"Well, we've never heard of it."
"Have you heard of Calvary Chapel?"
"Sort of. But look at those long-haired characters on the album cover."
"Listen, you've got to have this; it really relates to this generation."
"O.K., well, we'll take two of them."
"No, no, you need six. Can't you take six?"
"O.K., we'll take thirty-day credit."
"No, it's just cash on the barrel-head."
And they would buy it. Maranatha! Music quickly produced a second album, "Come to the Waters," by the Children of the Day. Record selling was hard work, and Michael was green at the business; but God was training him, teaching him, and grooming him. When his musical colleagues showed more interest in concert bookings, follow-up mail, and Bible correspondence courses than in distributing, Michael was encouraged to form his own
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distribution company, which he called Living Waters Productions. The results were astonishing. The little "company" was soon doing a remarkable monthly business out of Michael's garage. Response to the two albums was twenty-five thousand copies sold during the first six months after their release.
As for the MacIntosh family salvage operation, the key word was "struggle." Michael labored under some early Franciscan conceit that he shouldn't take more than $150 a week from the record sales, that the rest was God's money and should be used to expand the ministry. That meant keeping the Valiant running on baling wire and chewing gum while Sandra scraped the cupboard bare. But despite the problems, it was a home transformed. Christ was the head of the house; and instead of drugs, confrontations, and disappearances, there was joy and the laughter of children.
Little miracles were continually taking place. When there was nothing in the house to eat, Michael would be invited to conduct a Bible study, and someone would set a carton of groceries in the Valiant's rear seat. Or he would open his Bible and find a ten-dollar bill someone had slipped between the pages of the Book of Daniel. Once a whole ham was presented to him, and for a week Sandra was serving up baked ham, broiled ham, minced ham, and diced ham. The truth was that money no longer interested Michael. He was expecting the Lord Jesus to come back anytime, and what good would money be in heaven? Does God redeem sweepstakes tickets? Does a hearse carry a trailer hitch?
Meanwhile Calvary Chapel was in full stride, attracting international attention and gaining a reputation as the fulcrum of the Jesus Movement. Television crews were flying in from Holland, Britain, Italy, France, and Germany to record the spectacle. Reporters from national
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newsmagazines swarmed over the church grounds. The elders responded by erecting a tent to hold 2,200 additional seats.
For some time Michael had been hoping to be taken on the staff at Calvary Chapel as one of Chuck Smith's trainees for the ministry. To be a ministerial assistant, he felt, would give him the experience in direct evangelism for which he yearned; and his success with the records in no way deterred him from that goal. Much of his prayer time was spent in petitioning the throne of divine grace to allow him one day to become an evangelist.
One afternoon in March 1971, as he was talking over wedding arrangements with Pastor Chuck, Michael ventured to say, "I really feel that one day God is going to have me working with you."
Pastor Chuck looked at him the way a coach might look at a fourth-string quarterback. "Well, Mike, only time will tell."
But time went on ticking off the weeks and months and told nothing whatever while Michael's passion to preach the everlasting gospel remained unabated and unrealized.
Eventually Lonnie Frisbee, the young evangelist who had delivered the message the night Michael was converted and who later baptized Sandra, left Calvary Chapel to minister elsewhere. Once again Michael timidly approached his pastor. "Chuck, I know how busy you are, and I just want to help in any way. You have all these weeknight services. If I can teach or preach, let me know. I feel the Lord wanted me to say this, or I wouldn't be bothering with it."
The daring appeal left Michael limp, but Pastor Chuck was unflappable. "We'll pray about it," he said.
Pray about it! What did he think Michael had been doing? Instead of dispensing burglar alarms, Michael wanted to set off an alarm that would wake up all of
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America, wake up the whole world. But nothing happened.
Three weeks later Pastor Chuck called Michael into his study and sprang the news: "Another young man has asked to become an evangelist, Mike. I'd like you to alternate with him for about eight weeks, and we'll see."
Michael was ecstatic. What a privilege, what an honor! Calvary Chapel was one of the great churches of the world, and here he was invited to teach in it. He went home to Sandra with the good news and spent hours boring into the Bible, preparing his messages. Wednesday came and two thousand people crowded the new tent.
Eight weeks later Michael's hopes were at the bottom of the gully. Wednesday night attendance had dropped. Fears and suspicions, the legacy of his paranoia, came back to haunt him. When Pastor Chuck walked into his little Living Waters Productions office, he expected the worst. But what Chuck said was, "Mike, the board has voted to take you and Tom Stipe and Don McClure on staff at seventy-five a week and give you a ninety-day trial to see if you fit into the ministry."
You're kidding, Michael thought. Thank You, Jesus. I'm actually going to teach in this place. Wow. I can't believe it. All the odds were against it. My record, my lack of formal training, the drop in the crowds, everything; and here the breakthrough has come. It isn't possible. Hallelujah!
He was so excited, he didn't even hear the mention of seventy-five dollars. His salary had just been halved.
