San Diego
Welcome
Others have labored, and you have entered
into their labors.
John 4:38
America's prisoners of war were home at last from the nightmare of Hanoi. The fateful noose of Watergate was tightening around the White House. The first man to step on the moon was teaching college students in Cincinnati. Radical groups continued to spill animal blood over pentagon files. Child pornography made its shocking appearance as a full-scale industry. Homosexuals held their first street parades. The drug culture was reaching down to fifth and sixth graders. Charles Colson announced his conversion to faith in Jesus Christ. Billy Graham preached to over a million people at one sitting in Seoul, Korea. The Jesus Movement emerged on the West Coast, surprising everyone — church people most of all.
It was October 1973. Steven Keeling, a young haberdasher in San Diego's Ocean Beach district, was looking for a change of direction in his life. His younger brother Dean, an Orange County landscaper, was attending services at Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa and had given his heart
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to Jesus Christ. Dean telephoned Steven, and that's the way it all started.
The Keelings had grown up in San Bernardino, and while in high school they had indulged in the craze for hallucinogenic drugs and joined the counter-culture. Steven in particular took everything on the market short of heroin. Then in October 1970 he married and moved to San Diego, where at the age of twenty-one he opened the "Rare Comforts" clothing store. The store proved popular and things went well, but Steven was not happy with what he was seeing in San Diego. He had tapered off his drug taking, but his friends were increasing their use. Those who were married were pairing off with the wrong people. Some were in jail. Now twenty-three years old, Steven was in a receptive mood when his brother called and said he had been listening to some fantastic musical groups at a church in Costa Mesa.
On a Saturday evening Steven and his wife, Barbara, drove up I-5 to Calvary Chapel to hear the concert. After the musicians left the platform a young fellow came out to speak. His name was Greg Laurie, and he wore long hair and a beard. He told of his own personal involvement in the drug scene and how Jesus had cleaned up his act. The Keelings were deeply stirred by the message, and when Greg gave a gospel invitation to those who wished to receive Christ, Steven and Barbara were among those who crowded to the front.
Back in San Diego, excited for the first time about the Christian life and with the music of Calvary Chapel ringing in their ears, the Keelings began looking around for a church. But it seemed that services they attended were different. There was no beat, the hymns were unfamiliar and seemed old-fashioned, the announcements were interminable, and the preaching was more tedious than not. Where was the spirit they had witnessed in Costa Mesa's
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"gospel swamp"? Where was the exuberance, the spontaneity, the singing of fresh melodies, the strong meat of Scripture, the tiptoe excitement at the invitation? Where were the Spirit-filled worshipers spilling over with the love of Jesus?
The following week the Keelings drove back north, taking with them their shop assistant at the Ocean Beach store, Steve Ellingson, and his live-in girlfriend, Mary Wunderlich. At the close of the meeting Ellingson went forward and committed his life to Jesus Christ. Afterward they met brother Dean, who introduced them to a red-bearded giant of a carpenter and told them, "This is Don Abshere. Ask him to come down to San Diego — he'll teach you the Bible." Big Don grinned, and the next week he showed up. Seven people gathered that evening in the simply-furnished living room of Steve and Barbara Keeling in the Point Loma district. Two of them were from Orange County — Don and a painting contractor from Huntington Beach, Don Schock. The other five were the Keelings, Stephan Ellingson, Mary Wunderlich, and a young woman named Kathy Reilly. Kathy was a waitress who had dropped in at the Ocean Beach clothing store that afternoon as a shopper. Keeling had waited on her and invited her to his home.
So they had a Bible study, and Kathy Reilly was saved. Like that.
At the moment Michael MacIntosh was a hundred miles away, feeding his baby daughter and feeling perplexed about problems at Maranatha! Music. It is safe to assume that San Diego was the last thing on his mind.
By February of 1974 the weekly Wednesday night Bible study had expanded somewhat. Steve Ellingson and his girlfriend were dissatisfied with their living arrangement. Both were under the conviction of the Holy Spirit, and decided to break up housekeeping. Mary, a Christian who
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had fallen away, had renewed her faith that night at Calvary Chapel. She moved into an apartment. Steve also tried the celibate life, but it seemed to lack something. One night after going carefully into the Bible's teachings on the subject he hit upon what seemed an admirable solution— marriage! It evidently qualified for the Bible's sanction and seemed to hold a lot more promise than the single life. The Keelings agreed with his conclusion.
But now a new problem arose: who would tie the knot? It had to be a Christian, that was certain. But Chuck Smith was too far away, and the local clergy were distant for their own reasons. Ellingson's hair hung down to his shoulders. Don Abshere had a suggestion: "I've just moved in behind a friend in Tustin named Mike MacIntosh. He's on staff at Calvary Chapel. I think he can do it. I'll ask him...."
"All the way down there for a wedding? I don't have the gas money, Don," Michael said.
"We can scrape it together, I think."
"But don't they have any preachers in San Diego?"
"It's a personal favor to me, Mike."
The wedding took place in February 1974 in the Keelings' living room, glowing and fragrant with azaleas and carnations fresh from an Ocean Beach florist. The bride looked sweetly triumphant and the groom had his hair cut — slightly. Michael, rather starchy in gray suit, white shirt, and tie, read the service, preached the gospel, and pronounced them man and wife. All went nicely until it was found that some unwelcome guest had spiked the brownies with marijuana. As the officiating clergyman, Michael had barely made it to Point Loma on an empty gas tank. When he was ready to depart for Orange County, the gas stations were closed and he had to siphon his fuel out of another vehicle in the wedding party.
Welcome to San Diego, Michael MacIntosh. And come back soon.
