Supreme Ambition Ministries

MY JOURNEY 20

FORTY YEARS AND…

Today, June 7^th, Kathi and I celebrate 40 years of marriage.  I can honestly say, as I look back upon those years that I have at least two views.  One, it seems but a short while.  Two, it seems like a lifetime.  Now before you ladies out there start calling me names associated with the animal which produces ham and pork chops, please give me a chance to explain.  Whew!! 

Life really does go by fast.  In fact, sometimes it nearly seems to fly.  Perhaps an experience that convinced me of that occurred about three years ago when we joined our daughter, Stacye and family in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania to watch our son, Nathan perform in a  summer stock presentation of “Seussical the Musical”.  Nathan played the part of the Mayor of Whoville.  Upon arrival, Kathi and I soon discovered that we were in the same area where we honeymooned more than 3 ½ decades previously.  We anxiously took everyone to see the beautiful Resort where we had spent those first precious days of our new life together.  However, when we arrived…it had all been torn down.  All that was left of the beginning of our life there were the memories in the hearts of two people, who were left standing and wondering where the time had gone.

  A Journey is supposed to teach one something.  I think it would be terribly sad to spend a lifetime’ on this orb and not to have learned a few things about one’s self while here.  I’ll be the first to say that I’m, perhaps, not the sharpest pencil in the drawer’, but after 40 years I think I’m starting to ‘get it’.  Jesus is teaching me that life is not about me…It’s not about you either.  Life is about Christ.  My presence here is as one of those very special portions of Him.  I have been placed in the arena called ‘Life’ in order to help draw the focus of the Universe unto the only One worthy to receive all praise and honor.  Another thing I’m learning is life is about relationships.  Incidentally, marriage is about that too.  Now, Kathi already knew that, but guys like me take a little longer to realize the importance of the human connection.  We’re all about individual’ and ‘independent’.  Success in life can never be realized outside of relationships.  God knew that so he made the family, and the Church.  An attack upon the family is an attack upon the very core of human existence, and society in her essence.  Still another important issue is the possibility of change.  Although Kathi and I have journeyed together 40 years, neither of us is the same person as we were those many years ago.  I wish I would have changed more in our journey together.  I’ve made some pretty good choices in life, but I’ve also made some that nearly curl my eyebrows. 

Lastly,the Lord has taught me much from my sweetheart.  She is the one who has shown me the way of love towards neighbors, friends, and parishoners.  Her timely words of encouragement, and sincereity in getting to know each one and what makes them ‘tick’ has been a key to her own heart, and the heart of God towards his children.  Hours she’s spent through the years preparing gifts, meals, etc for family, the lonely, brokenhearted and servants of the community both inspire and convict me.  The smile which comes across the face of some American Armed Forces person when she determinedly seeks them out to say, ‘Thank You’ reminds me of the determination which God has in seeking each of us out.  But most of all her consistent hunger for Christ through these years has taught me the importance of perserverance, as she has stood by my side and often led the challenge and charge to and for the Church.

 My deepest regrets are that I wasn’t a better husband and father.  My grandest hope is that there is more change yet to come.  Through this 40 years’ journey Kathi and I have had a lot of stuff to learn and a lot left to finish.  One thing, however, I don’t regret in this journey, by God’s grace, is the one I chose to walk with me in it.  HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, SWEETIE!  It’s been a lifetime, but, oh how very short.

June 6th, 2009 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 7 comments

MY JOURNEY 19

 How many times I have heard the statement, “It was like Grand Central Station”, I do not know, but on each of our four trips to NYC after 9-1-1 the Lord seemed to direct us there.  It is a massive building near the United Nations’ building.  During the busiest times of the day subway cars and trains carrying thousands of people arrive and depart to and from the Station.   New York City is a melting pot of every tribe, tongue and nation on the earth.  Grand Central Station seems to be the giant dispensary for those people.  One might go there and enter into the giant room containing the rotunda and find very few people.  However, within a matter of seconds as trains and subways arrive and depart the room could be so packed with people that one could virtually stir them with a stick.

On our first occasion we walked into the Station we had  little knowledge of what we were going to do.  We walked into the Rotunda, spread out into different sections with our sticks and just stood, trusting for the Lord to bring to us those whom He would.    At that time the city was crawling with members of the military.  The city and the nation were shaken to the core, fear clouded the faces of countless numbers.  Once secure people, who gave little consideration about ‘tomorrow’, were now even concerned about ‘today’. Parents, husbands, wives, whose minds had previously been wrapped around the best way to make the next dollar seemed to be thinking of little except how grateful they were to be alive and have their family in tact.

Numbers of people walked up to us asking about the meaning of the sticks.  Among those who asked about the sticks was a very distinguished young woman.  She approached Steve Coder and me in a most unusual way.  She came off a subway into the rotunda, and marched directly toward us.  If you could have seen her, she was like one who was on a mission.  Approaching us she said, “Where can I get one of those sticks?”  Steve said, “Right here!”  She asked how much they were and we explained to her that they were free.  She exclaimed, “Oh wonderful!  I want one!”  Steve said, “Wait, I need to tell you the story of the sticks first.”  She said, “Oh, I already heard it from someone at Ground Zero Yesterday!”  We had been asking people to share the message that we are to be one nation united under one God.  Apparently, someone with whom we had shared the gospel message had shared with her.  She had thought about the responsibility of what it meant to receive and carry a stick and she was ready.  If you could have seen her take that stick and walk away from us into the mass of people, I don’t know what you would have done.  I looked at Steve and said, “Brother, there goes the gospel into NYC…”

Suddenly, the Lord stirred our hearts that we needed to sing.  As I indicated we were not a choir, but a few of us could sing a little.  On one occasion as the rotunda area was packed with hundreds of people rushing to their next destination.  We stood in the middle and began to sing some patriotic numbers, including ‘God Bless America’, and ‘This Land Is your Land”.  What happened next was amazing.  All those hundreds of people, who were nearly stepping on top of one another came to a screeching halt.  The anointing of the Holy Spirit was upon us as we sang.  The people began to cry out, “Sing! Sing!  These are our songs!  We need you now!  Sing!  Sing!”  Tears were streaming down their faces.  Some were holding up their cell phones so that those to whom they were speaking could hear the singing.  Everyone seemed to want a stick.  We quickly challenged them to turn their hearts toward God and share the message with others.  Several people thought we were a choir, but when they found out we were just Christian pilgrims from different parts of the U.S, who had come to bring a message of hope in Christ they could hardly believe it.

Over and over as we walked the streets of the city we saw people carrying their sticks.  An entire floor of one building housed several nurses and medical personel.  Each of them received a stick and they began to meet daily at lunch for a Bible study…each carrying a stick.  Wall street lawyers and financial investors asked for them, as well as taxie drivers, police officers and firemen.  We visited fire stations and police precints and prayed with men and women who had been devastated by the tragic events of 9-1-1.  At one fire station we met a man who was the only one left out of 13 at his station.  He looked at me and said, “That would be like losing everyone of you but one.”  The sadness emanating from him was almost more than anyone could bare.  How blessed we were to come with a message of hope in a time of terror and confusion.

There are times when the hearts of people are so hard that to attempt to share a gospel message is almost futile.  However, God has ways of using experiences of life to make the heart receptive.  It is important that we in the church are ready to take advantage of every open door as it comes.  We must not miss the opportunities given to us.  Just as quickly as a door opens it can also close.  At any moment the quiet road of life you travel may be packed with men, women, youth and children, whose lives have been turned upside down.  Who knows?  It may even look like Grand Central Station.  Will you let them walk on by into a hopeless sea of humanity or will you begin to sing the ‘song of the Lamb’ and bring hope and life into their barrenness? Historically the church has been spiritually AWOL at  the most inopportune times.  The prophet Isaiah said to his generation words that are applicable to ours.  “Awake!  Awake!  Put on thy strength, O Zion.  Put on thy beautiful garments…”  

May 4th, 2009 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 3 comments

MY JOURNEY 18

…WHY WAS I SPARED?

There are no words to express the sense of purpose and destiny I experienced as I walked with my brothers and sisters in Christ all the way from uptown New York City to downtown toward the place known then and now as…’Ground Zero’.  It was as though we were making our way to a funeral.  All along the way people stopped us asking the same question, “What do you mean about these sticks?”  Police officers, Wall Street Lawyers, homeless, business men and women, each from varied tribes, tongues and nations, all stopping us wanting to know the story of the sticks.  Each time we took a few moments to give witness to our Lord, and give the message that ‘God wants us to be one nation united under one God’.  We asked those to whom we witnessed to take a stick and spread the message.  How thrilling it was to watch hundreds of people walking away from us into the massive sea of people carrying the Gospel message. 

During the four trips we made to NYC we gave away  between 1300 and 1500 sticks, and each one taking a vital message for our nation to people who were desperately trying to find their way.    It was a crisp October morning and had the sky not been obscured by the smoldering ruins of Ground Zero, I’m sure it would have been very blue.  All around us were the unmistakable smells of smoldering death.  The closer we got to the place where the Towers had fallen the more it felt as though we were going to a funeral.  As we approached Ground Zero we came upon a Baptist group, who had set up a Prayer Station on the street corner.  We paused to have prayer with them and to tell them why we were there.  We joined our hands in a circle very near where the towers had fallen and began to pray for the suffering family members left behind, our wayward nation, and for those who were to find Christ through this horrible ordeal.  When we opened our eyes, there was a great number of people who had joined us in prayer.  One was a man from China, who was working in NYC, and who had been on the 40th floor of the South Tower.  At the end of the prayer, he said, “Why was I spared?  Why did I get out, when so many thousands lost their lives?”  One of our brothers took him aside and shared the Good News with him that Jesus came to save sinners and that Christ had a wonderful purpose for his life.”  This precious Chinese man bowed his head and in a very sacred moment he received the Eternal Life of the Father and the Son.  He was transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the Kingdom of Light. 

There are numerous stories such as this of people, whose lives have been transformed because a few Christians cared enough to go to a hurting city and nation and carry ’sticks’ with a message.  In fact, we became known on the streets as ‘THE STICK PEOPLE’.   Sounds like something out of a Sci-fi movie, doesn’t it? We wore the name, however,  as a badge of honor. 

On another occasion   We were standing with hundreds of others looking over a baracade towards the smoldering ruins.  It was so quiet that one could almost here a mouse sneeze.  Hundreds of people standing, looking and yet each one alone with his/her private thoughts.  Suddenly, the Lord led for our group to begin to sing.  We were not a choir, but God anointed our singing in such a way that people were weeping.  All at once a young woman approached me with tears in her eyes.  Her name is Alicia.  She was in her apartment several floors above us and heard us singing.  She ran down the stairs and onto the street.  Breathlessly she asked who we were and why we were singing.  I tried to tell her of our and God’s  love for the nation and our participation in the grieving of the city and the nation over this tragedy.  I also shared with her how we had come to bring a little hope  in the midst of tragedy.  She related the account of that awful day when her husband had gone to work  in the North Tower.  She continued her story between sobs to say that the explosions had been beyond something she could explain.  The terror was still fresh upon her face and in her voice.  She spoke of trying desperately to find her husband and fearing the worst.  Thankfully, her husband made it out safely, but both  had been left with questions, doubts and fears that would be impossible to explain to anyone.  She said when she heard us singing that God put hope in her heart.  and she thanked me over and over for coming to NYC to share the love of God.  She said, “We need it now!”  In the picture above I have just offered her the opportunity of being an ambassador of hope to her city by taking an Ezekiel Stick and the blessed message of hope it represented.  She was amazed  I was giving her an Ezekiel Stick, but she received it with gladness and went forth to share the love of God. 

Watchman Nee, the humble Chines Evangelist,  once said, “To be used of God once in a lifetime is worth a lifetime of living.”  I am a very blessed man.  My times of being used by him are too numerous to count.  In the midst of tragedy it is human nature to ask, “Why?”  Many of the people we talked with asked this question.  Most wanted to know what such an even meant for them personally.  Suffering without reason gives hopelessness, but, if man can find a reason for his suffering, then he usually becomes more the person he was meant to be.  Thankfully, we had a message to give that offered hope beyond reason.  As we walked those human-laden streets those days,we offered not an abstract hope, but rather a God of hope, who has suffered as we have and has become victorious through it all.  

Why some made it out of the Towers alive and others didn’t, I do not know.  I do know that after September 11, 2001 I have never been the same, not just because I have suffered, but because I have found hope and meaning for life beyond the typical, daily, ’grind-it-out’ stuff for which most people live. For what are you living today? God forbid, if tragedy should strike our nation again, and threaten the very foundation of our lives, do you have a hope beyond what this world can offer?  How deep does the reason for your living go?  Does it go beyond the daily, ‘gind-it-out’ stuff? Selah!  Think about it.

April 20th, 2009 Posted by Dave | Biographical | one comment

MY JOURNEY 17

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THESE STICKS?

     On September 11, 2001 I was on vacation with Kathi in Pigeon Forge,TN. Our daughter, Stacye, called to tell us that the United States had been attacked and the towers of the World Trade Center had been the target.  Later, of course, we found out about the Pentagon and the downed plane in Pennsylvania.  Just as December 7, 1941 is a day that will live in infamy and June 6, 1944 stands as one of the most significant and bravest events of WWII, so does September 11th tower on the horizon of American history as a day, which marks a significant change in how Americans and the rest of the world live our lives. 

    The day was filled with sunshine and puffy clouds, the last throws of summer beamed from the heavens, but the atmosphere was one of gloom, fear, and confusion.  People were fightened, angry, and some even thought the end might be near.  As I watched the responses of people on the news and observed with keen interest the rescue workers desperately digging through rubble trying to find survivors, my emotions were  vascillating.  The predominant thought on my mind was:  “Is there something I can do?”.  I’m a Christian so I knew one of the most important things to do was to pray.  America needed prayer then and needs prayer more now than any time in history.  We are a nation who has lost her way.  So I began to pray…But I wanted to do more.  However, it seemed as though there might be something more I could do.

     In Ezekiel chapter 37, the prophet is told to take two sticks of wood (walking sticks).  On one stick he was to write the name, Judah(meaning, ‘Now I will praise the Lord’).  On the other he was to write the name, Ephraim (meaning, ‘God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering’).  God then told Ezekiel to bind the two sticks together into one and hold them before the people.  Then God said, “When your Countrymen ask you, “What do you mean by these sticks?  You should tell them that you are no longer two nations but you are one nation united under one God.”  

     We purchased some very fine walking sticks and proceeded to New York City a mere 3 weeks after 9/11.  Upon arrival at our hotel we met together the evening before for a time of prayer, and worship.  Quite frankly I was not all that excited about taking a bunch of sticks out onto the streets of New York, if you know what I mean.  Really..come on…those people have a reputation for beating people up with sticks and other such things.  So, I decided  the next morning when we started walking the streets with sticks  I would place myself at the back and let folks who were all fired up about this thing  do what they wanted while I just watched.  I think I mentioned before that I am very shy by nature.  What I had failed to take into consideration was those in the front of our group served as the lure on a fishing line.  They got the attention of the people on the street…The succeeding ’stick carriers’ only enhanced their curosity and by the time I came along…well, I caught the fish, so to speak.  We were walking along Broadway and 34th Street when the Bell Captain at the Holiday Inn looked at me and said, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ABOUT THESE STICKS”.  Yes, he used the very words the scripture talked about.  I turned towards him and told him the story from Ezekiel.  His name is William.  I said, ”William, if you will pass the message along that God wants us to be one nation united under one God, I’ll give you this stick.”  He said, “Praise the Lord!”.  I said, “Glory to God!”  He took the stick and lifted it high over his head with both hands and brought it down hard upon the sidewalk and said, “I claim in the name of Jesus that He will bring people back to NYC and this hotel.”  We went back to NYC about 3 weeks later and he told me God had answered the prayer and that the hotel was full. 

This was only the beginning of a grand adventure that came out of a national tragedy.  We gave away thousands of Ezekiel Sticks on four separate trips to New York City.  I will share more in the next edition.

April 14th, 2009 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 2 comments

MY JOURNEY 16

“ARE YOU SMARTER THAN AN… AVERAGE CHRISTIAN?”

  Kathi and I spent from April 1996 – November 1999 living in West Virginia.  During that time we were meeting with a small group of people in our home.  Meeting with Christians in a living room has, perhaps, been some of the most meaningful times in our Forty-year ministry.  We will always cherish those moments and when we think of those who shared that time with us, we shall do so with only the fondest of memories. 

            In November 1999 the Lord led us to a small church in Louisville, KY, which had just recently lost their pastor of sixteen years.  Complicating the situation was the fact that the Church split before we arrived and we were left with half the previous number, many of whom were reeling from the experience.  Our assignment upon arrival was very plain.  We were to help these people walk through a much needed healing experience.  As I write these words we are in our tenth year at this little Church called Ecclesia Fellowship.  Our walk of healing is not completed but we are well along the way..  Sadly, once a Church goes through something like a split, it is difficult for those who are left to see past their hurts and be willing to stay long enough for God to do a deep and abiding healing within them.  Of course, there are always others who feel the need to move on because theirneeds are different and their goals do not fit with the new vision.  Such has been the case at Ecclesia.  As each person has left, a period of further grieving and healing  has been required. Each of these experiences has become the building blocks upon which our faith in Christ and our walk with him is built. Hopefully, we are becoming a living Temple, a proper habitation for our great God. 

It has been my desire since April 1995 to get to know my Lord and to help lead any, who might have the desire to experience Him in his depths .  I claim no special revelation, nor do I hold to the allusion that I might possess something others do not.  I simply want to know Him; His passion, His presence, and His purpose.  Let me state, “I love the Church, the Bride of Christ”.  Many of the experiences I have passed through, both negative and positive have brought me to whatever level of Christian maturity I have.  Some of the experiences Kathi and I have had in Louisville have assissted in that shaping.  It is our prayer that this shaping will always be to the image of the Son of God. 

          One of the major burdens of my heart in the last forty years has been the shallowness of many in the Church.  A couple of years ago I gave a test of 100 questions to the brothers and sisters of Ecclesia fellowship.  The test covered basic Bible information which should have been known, especially by people who have spent most of their adult lives in the Church.  I didn’t grade the tests (I was tempted).  Instead, we went over the test on a Wednesday evening and I let them give their answers as they could.  Sadly, a few of the youth could answer some of the questions more accurately than could some of the adults.  Of course, I have to take a portion of the blame.  I felt it was important for me to examine my preaching to see if I were delivering Biblically based messages, and if I were doing so in a manner that fostered a proper retention among my people.  While being willing to take some of the blame myself.  I also realized that listening to one man preach a Biblically based message once per week (month, quarter, etc.) will never get the job done.  The popular movement afoot is to do away with Sunday School, and in doing so a generation of Christians has been raised up, who knows little about the Bible and basic doctrine. However, I’ve also discovered that simply obtaining and parroting Biblical information does not a disciple make.  Christians should know the Bible, but Christians should never fool themselves into believing that good Biblical knowledge is not necessarily a sign that one knows God any more than sleeping in a garage makes one a car. Yet, much of the fault cannot be laid at the feet of the Church, but rather at the altar of the Christian home.  I maintain that God spells “Sunday School”  ‘D-A-D’ and ‘M-O-M’.  Many parents have abdictated their role, and wanted to hire a job done that God intended be theirs.  

           I have a friend who related the following story.  Apparently, he had the opportunity to spend some time with the Worship Leader of one of the largest churches in the United States.  In the course of the conversation the Worship Leader asked my friend how things were going in his church.  My friend replied, “Well, nothing like what’s going on at your church.  I’m just trying to love my people and take them deeper with Christ.”  To which the Worship Leader said, and with great thought, “Deeper….Deeper….I surely would like to see some Christians go deeper with Christ.  We have (so many thousand) Christians at our church and every one of them is about one inch deep.”  The brother confessed later to my friend that they just didn’t know what to do with them once they got them saved.  He said, “We have discipleship ‘classes’ (misnomer), but the reality is we just don’t know what to do with them so we just move on to get the next one saved.”

      It seems that present day Christianity has learned well how to get people to come to our Churches…Now, if we can just learn how to get God to come, we’ll be doing well. ARE WE SMARTER THAN THE AVERAGE CHRISTIAN?  Maybe that’s the wrong question.  The tell-tale question is, “Do we know our Lord…not know about him, but do we truly know him?”  I may be able to recite all 66 books of the Bible.  I may even know who was the third king of Israel, or the Apostle who replaced Judas.  But, if I don’t know the heart of my Lord, it really doesn’t matter, if I’m smarter than…an average Christian.

April 13th, 2009 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 5 comments

MY JOURNEY 15

It’s been some time since I last wrote.  I have been doing some classwork for a degree I’m working on and my goal was to get the classwork completed by the first of the year.  By the grace of God, I was able to complete the 30 hours of classwork required before I begin the laborious assignment of doing research for the dissertation.  One goal accomplished and one to go.  I appreciate so much your prayers for that, and, oh yeah, Kathi and I leave on January 12th for Florida for 3-4preaching/teaching assignments in two separate churches.  I have a deep sense of need for the help of God in this matter.  Lives are hanging in the balance and it is my sincere desire to give each of them word from the Lord.  Please pray…Thanks.

MOUNT KENNY- MY PERFECT DAY

Do you mind, if I relate another account of God’s leading in my journey with him?  Thanks!  That which I am about to relate to you may be one of the most perfect days I have ever lived.  Now most of us, when thinking of living a perfect day, suppose it would include moral perfection, or a day without sin.  However, the day I am about to share with you is one about which I claim none of that, although I have no conscious remembrance of committing any sin during that time period.  If I did not sin on that occasion, it is most likely due to the grace of God in my life rather than any special ability on my part.  What was it Jesus said to the twelve?  “Apart from me you can do NOTHING.”

As with a number of my experiences in Christ, this one took place in Haiti.  We had spent a long day in travel from Miami, and by the time we arrived at the mission compound and got a little something to eat it was rather late.  At that time, having electricity in Haiti was a luxury.  Things haven’t changed much.  Not having electricity also means no TV or radio. It is surprising how the Lord can work, when there is no noise.  As is our habit while in Haiti, we afford ourselves the opportunity of sitting under the stars on the roof of the missionary’s home (Phyllis Newby).  How long has it been since you were able to view the Milky Way in all its glory?  There is no way for me to explain the beauty of the sky, nor how bright the constellations are.  We began to sing and give testimony, pray and share from the word of God.  Suddenly, one of the ladies felt led to wash the feet of Sister Phyllis.  Each of our hearts was stirred as the water sloshed in the basin and as words of blessing and encouragement were spoken over this precious servant of Jesus.  Well, you might have guessed that others were led to wash still others’ feet.  Until all but one person had experienced this exercise in humility….all that is except one fellow from Central Florida, Kenny Dale.  Now Kenny was on that trip for one reason.  His friend, Ed Joyner, had invited him to come.  We needed an electrician, to explore how to set up a solar, electrical system, and Kenny was an electrician.  PROBLEM!  Kenny was not a Christian.  Furthermore, he had never been in church in his life.  Get the picture?  This guy has never been in Church and his first introduction is a bunch of people sitting on a porch washing one another’s feet.  What must he have been thinking?  Each of us knew someone was going to have to explain to him what was going on, and why no one had washed his feet.  The silence was deafening…Crickets began to chirp, if you know what I mean.  Suddenly, Ed Joyner said, “Kenny.  I know you don’t have a clue what is going on here but I would like to have the privilege of washing your feet.”  Kenny spoke not one word, but began to take his shoes and socks off and let Ed wash his feet.  It was a holy time.  After that precious experience, our leader asked, if anyone had anything else on their heart.  One of the ladies grabbed her chest near her heart and said, “I must get to that mountain.”  Behind the mission station is a range of rugged, barren mountains.  Haiti  means “the land of many mountains”.  When she made her proclamation, a number of us agreed that the Lord had been dealing with us as well about getting to the mountain.

After our dismissal prayer, Steve Coder and I began to pray about the possibility of walking to the base of the mountain.  We were told it would take an hour and a half to just get there.  Since Haiti is extremely hot, we knew we would have to have special help from the Lord with the weather in order for us to make the journey.  Besides we didn’t know what we were going to do once we got there.  We decided to wait to see what the morning brought.

Wouldn’t you know!  The Lord sent a cold front through with a cloud cover, and after breakfast we started our journey toward the mountain.  A group of pilgrims from various age groups began to hike, and as we did I had the feeling that Jesus’ disciples must have felt just what I was feeling at that moment.  You see, for them their  f irst   experiences at Church were not in stone buildings with seats lined in rows, but on a Gallilean hillside, or camping by the side of the road, listening to the master teacher.  As the dust from the person in front of me covered my face, I rejoiced and cherished the moment.

Once we reached the base of the mountain, Steve looked at me and asked me to read from Ezekiel about the valley of dry bones.  This passage has great significance for Haiti, since it is a dry and forsaken land.  Another brother sang, “We’ve come this far by faith.”  Then Steve looked at me and said, “Brother, which of these peaks does the Lord want us to climb?”  As I prayed, the Lord seemed to stir within my spirit on a certain one.  I said, “This one”, as I pointed.  Several of the brothers, exclaimed, “That’s the same one the Lord told me!”

PROBLEM #2: Kenny had a heart problem and had recently had surgery.  Steve told him to wait at the bottom and we’d climb and return after we had obeyed our assignment.  But nothing would do, but Kenny insisted upon climbing that mountain.  I was around 50 years of age at the time, and one of the men, who was 20 years my junior challenged me to race to the top.  I should have known better, but I still feel young inside.  Anyway we took off.  Steve decided to walk with Kenny and told the rest of us to go on.  After climbing about half-way up, my racing buddy and I paused to catch our breath.  Please understand!  There was no foilage on this mountain, only gravel, rock, and very loose sand.  It was a trek you’d want to be sure about, if you had a good heart.  While we were resting, we looked over the side of the mountain and saw Kenny and Steve stopped and talking.  My friend said to me, “Wouldn’t it be something if Kenny met Jesus on the side of this mountain?”  When he said it I had something happen to me.  I tell people that I’m a baptist and we don’t have visions, but I can’t help it, I had one any way.  This is what I saw.  I saw in vision, Kenny pushing open a door and smiling.  I did not tell anyone what had happened.  Once we all made it to the top we waited some time for Steve and Kenny.  Kenny was struggling to breathe.  However, when they reached the summit, Steve announced that Kenny had opened the door of his heart and met Jesus on the side of the mountain.  Hallelujah!!  It was even as the vision had been.

While on the top of the mountain we felt the Lord would have us take Communion together.  Have you been following this story? This guy, Kenny, had never been in Church in his life, and within a few hours he had been in a footwashing service, been saved, and now he was taking communion.  You couldn’t have scripted it, if you had tried.  We then built a Cross out of the rocks on the mountain.  It can still be seen all the way back to the mission station today.

We hiked back to the mission station and told Phyllis about our journey and Kenny’s salvation.   She encouraged us to clean up and go to a local beach not far from the mission where we could relax.  Steve Coder said, “That’s right we have to have a baptismal service.”  God wasn’t finished yet.  So we went to Wahoo Beach and Ed Joyner and Steve baptized Kenny Dale.  We then had a good meal, and reviewed all the Lord had done that day.  We drove back to the mission house.  Earlier, I had stated that it was our habit to meet out   under the stars each night.  Steve asked me about it, and we both agreed we had already had our devotions, in fact, we had been doing ‘Church’ all day.  We told the people to relax and get ready for bed.  Steve and I sat down on the porch to talk, and before long several of the people came and sat down in the circle with us.  We shared a little and then Steve and I went down stairs to Phyllis’ living room.  Before long here came the rest of the group.  Steve and I finally figured out that the Body of Christ was wanting to meet.  So we began to share, sing, and pray as God led us.  While sitting on the couch next to Steve, God began to deal with me about singing a song from Les Miserables, the Broadway musical.  The song is called, “Bring Him Home”, and is a prayer of Jean Valjean for a wounded soldier, the man whom his daughter loved.  In the song, Jean Valjean crys, “If I die, let me die! Let him live! Bring him home”.  Suddenly, Steve looked at me and said, “Brother, could you sing, “Bring him home?”  You’d think it would be “Amazing Grace”, wouldn’t you?  I could hardly believe my ears.  I began to sing.  When I finished, Ed Joyner,who had brought Kenny to Haiti, was sitting across the room.  Steve picked up a pillow and threw it onto the floor, and said, ” It’s time!”  Ed joyner fell face forward on the floor and began to cry, “I’ve been running from this for years.”  God was calling him to preach the gospel.

Some of us had been concerned about Kenny.  Remember, the only type of Church he had ever known was what he had experienced that day.  How are you going to take him back to Florida and stick him in a church pew staring at the back of someone’s head and call that church?  In a 24 hour period God had led a small group of trusting pilgrims from footwashing, to salvation of a soul, to communion, to baptism, chose his pastor, and we ordained him….Oh, by the way, we named the mountain after Kenny as well.  Every ordinace of the Church and then some was performed without any program or human plan.

In sucessive trips we have returned to  Mount Kenny, and each journey has been special with worship beyond words, but none quite so ‘perfect’ as that first journey when God gave me a perfect day in Him.  My experience upon Mount Kenny has fired my spirit to not rest until I reach the unreachable stars.

January 6th, 2009 Posted by Dave | Biographical | one comment

MY JOURNEY 14

Did I mention that Kathi and I have wonderful Children and grandchildren?  Yeah!  I thought I did.  It is seldom overkill to mention something a few times, especially when one is speaking fact.  One proof among many was when our daughter, Stacye, and her husband, Fernando, took us to Spain.  You see, Fernando is from Spain.  He came to the United States as an exchange student his junior year in high school.  He played basketball and played for the state championship in West Virginia.  Later, Marshall University gave him a scholarship and he stayed in the States to go to school.  It was while he attended Marshall that Stacye met him.  They married a few years later and, have given us two wonderfully, spirited young boys of whom we are very proud.

Periodically, Fernando goes to Spain to visit his parents, sister, and brother.  A few years ago he invited Kathi and me to go along.  It had been a dream of Kathi’s, since she was in high school, to see Spain with a native.  Kathi majored in Spanish in College, and has retained a deep love for the country to this day.  We had hoped to use some inheritance to finance the trip, but circumstances were such that we could not.  One day in the spring of 2003 I spoke with Stacye on the phone and told her we would not be able to go.  I assured her, when the money was available we would put some back for the trip.  She was disappointed, but very understanding.  In just a few hours she called back and said she had spoken to Fernando.  He said, “Stacye, the only way your parents aren’t going to Spain with us is if the Lord tells your Dad not to go.”  He continued, “I had intended to pay for everything anyway.”  How excited do you think we were?  From the time Kathi was 16 years old she had an ‘impossible dream’ to go to see Spain with a native.  How just like Jesus it was to allow her to see this beloved land with a beloved Native, our son-in-law.  A bonus for us was that we were not to be merely tourists, but rather, guests of Fernando’s family in their home about an hour and a half north of Madrid in the little village of Pozaldez (400 people). (Below is the train station in Pozaldez). Fernando’s father is the mayor, and we got to see his installation service.  Spain is a beautiful country with a rich history in culture, arts, religion, and culinary delights.

It seemed there was a castle on nearly every hill.  Seriously, almost everywhere we looked there were reminders of ages long ago.  From ancient ruins, outdoor markets and cafes, to walled cities, evidence of civilizations from the past rose from the fertile plains and virtually begged to be explored.  Fortunately, we had a few days to skim the surface of this precious adventure.  Interestingly, some of the most enduring memories for me were the smells and sounds.  One day a shepherd and his sheep wandered by our home (Kathi loves sheep, and she squealed as we ran outside and struck up a conversation with the Shepherd).  All the while we were being kept at bay by a very protective Border collie.  Walking the quaint, old, brick streets, and hearing the echoes of voices along the narrow corridors of the hamlets and villages caused me to pause and wonder, if I might have heard the ‘clacking’ of horses’ hoofs as a Roman platoon made its way toward me.  Perhaps the most delightful of all were the many unique aromas that stirred our senses as we passed by the outdoor cafes and bakeries.

As you can see, I can have quite an imagination.  That might be expected, since I think I have a little Don Quiote in my blood.  For those of you who don’t know, Don Quote is the valiant fighter of windmills from the great classic by the same name, and written by Miguel Cervantes.  The story was made into the long-running Broadway musical, “The Man of La Mancha”.  The song made famous by that musical is “The Impossible Dream”.  Kathi and I had that song at our wedding.  I keep the lyrics taped inside the front flap of my Bible.

To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe,

To bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go,

To right the unrightable wrong, to love pure and chaste from afar,

to try when your arms are too weary to reach the unreachable star.

This is my quest to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far.

To fight for the right without question or pause, to be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause.

And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest, that my heart will lie peaceful and calm, when I’m laid to my rest.

And the world will be better for this, that one man scorned and covered with scars,

Still strove with his last ounce of courage, to reach the unreachable stars. 

I mention this song because of a beautiful gift from our Lord while we journeyed through Spain.  We took an overnight trip to the beautiful walled city of Avila, where St. Teresa had intimate communion with Christ.  We traversed the entire city wall and then paused to do some shopping.  I found two silver-plated statues of Don Quiote and Sancho Panza (The former’s Squire).  With some encouragement from our daughter and my wife, I purchased them and they provide inspiration for me as they sit in my office today.  We walked from the shop to an old restaurant for the evening meal.  This place was really old, dating back to about 1200-1300 A.D.  It was a part of the wall of the city.  When we walked in we were greeted and seated.  No sooner had we been seated than over their music system was played the “Impossible Dream”.  I was in tears, along with Kathi and Stacye.  Fernando got in on the joy as well.  He exclaimed very excitedly, “You just bought the Quiote!”  All of us knew that we had just been a part of a “God thing”.

                I have had a dream from my college days that the Church would return to Christ the same kind of passion he has shown for us.  I have gone against the tide of ‘Churchianity’, found both in some dead orthodoxy and some fanatical spirituality.  I have issued the clarion call and challenged Christians to know the joy of intimacy with a living Lord in the corporate setting of a connected Church.  I have stood my ground against a progressive spirituality, which tends to leave solid Biblical teaching by the side of the road.  I have pressed past the entrenched carnal attitudes of the “Seven last words of the Church (We never did it that way before).  I have tried to be willing to march into hell for the heavenly cause.  I have been beaten, battered, and broken.  My dream…well, it’s still out there on the horizon somewhere.  Often I have been tempted to quit, saying, “What’s the use?”  However, I know my dream may seem impossible, but with God…all things are possible.  So…though my foe seems unbeatable, and my sorrow often seems unbearable…My scars are too deep, and the star is… well…just too far away.  However, I join the vision of the Lord of La Mancha…and say to my squire, “Sancho, My sword!  My shield!  There are yet more adventures before I rest.  Why do I continue on?  HE IS THE GOD OF THE IMPOSSIBLE!

November 3rd, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 2 comments

MY JOURNEY 13

Some people are good ’starters’, but poor ‘finishers’.  They, like the proverbial Hare, start out very fast but soon run out of enthusiasm.  There endurance level is somewhat lacking.  God has a purpose and reason for each person both in the here and the hereafter.  For the follower of Christ our chief desire is to Complete the Mission to which we have been called.  Of course, the ultimate fulfillment is to live our lives in such a way that God receives the glory for all we accomplish in this life.  There are, however, ‘missions’ along the way to our Mission.  In my life I have had many ‘missions’.  My prayer is that they add up to the fulfillment of the Mission to which he has called me.

One such mission took place in August of 1997.  Being a Regional Representative for Hand to the Plow Ministries, Inc., I have had numerous occasions to minister with the brothers and sisters in the land of Haiti.  Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  It is known now as a Fourth-World Country.  Through the years our ministry has had the privilege of preaching the gospel, providing food, clothing, clean water, building churches, and giving gifts at Christmas to thousands of children.  Haiti is a nation, whose culture is polluted with Voo Doo.  It is even recognized as the State Religion.  Voo Doo, being a part of the culture, has stretched her tentacles into most households, social organizations, and even into the Church.  The ’spiritual darkness‘ associated with this demonic influence has  almost choked the life out of the people.  Six out of every ten children die by the age of five or six.  The average life-span is forty-five.  Economically, socially, and politically Haitians have no hope of their situation ever being better.

Prior to the trip we felt there might be a few places we would go in the country to pray, but one such place was on top of one of Haiti’s mountains in a little village called Cha Cha (Sha Sha).  This village is 4000 feet up on the mountain.  The only way to get there is by foot.  It is absolutely one of the most difficult trips I have ever taken.  We left the mission compound about 4:30 a.m. and travelled for a couple of hours to the base of the mountain.  We began our asscent at about 7:00 a.m.  It took us 4 hours to climb.  Did I mention we were in Haiti?….in August?  Man!  Was it hot!  By the time we reached the village at the top of Cha Cha, I don’t know about the rest of the group but my ‘transmission’ was draggin’ the ground.  We found the porch of the little Church we had built some years before and we each layed down to rest and ended up falling asleep for a couple of hours.  When we awoke, I felt like I had been hit by a Mack truck, and the last thing on my mind was praying…for Haiti…or anybody.  That’s not quite true.  I had one prayer request.  I was asking Jesus how he was going to get me back down that mountain.  Yeah…back down…We had to get back down and then drive two hours back to the Mission House.  The ladies had fixed us some peanut butter sandwiches and lemonade.  We thankfully ate, and I remember sitting inside that little Haitian Church muttering, “Jesus, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to participate in this prayer meeting.  I don’t even know, if Ican walk back down the mountain”

Suddenly,  One of the brothers from the back of the room began to sing, “I  bowed on my knees and cried ‘holy…”  Friend, I cannot explain what happened to me and to the others, but the power and presence of the Holy Spirit came into that Church through our brother’s obedience to sing.  Each of us was strengthened by his mighty hand.  For the next 2 1/2 to 3 hours we were lost in the wonder of his Presence.  It was on that day that my definition of prayer changed.  We sang, we rejoiced, we worshipped…but not once did anyone bow his/her head and pray a traditional prayer.  We were in precious communion with our Lord and with one another., and ‘prayer as ususal just simply would not work.  Somewhere during this glorious time each of us sensed the Lord speaking to us.  And what was his word to us?   He said, ‘ALL I EVER WANTED YOU TO DO WAS LOVE ME.’  We have made Christianity so complicated.  It is really very simple, so simple that a child can do it.

October 13th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 3 comments

MY JOURNEY 12

THREE ANGELS AND A LESSON IN FAITH

I mentioned previously that the Lord led us to begin again with a Church in our home, and we made the glorious discovery that we were… home.  I suppose not everyone is cut out for an expression of Church as a living-room full of people.  But, it seemed to work especially well for us.  It sort of felt like coming home after a hard day at the office with a lot of stress, and being able to slip into those favorite pajamas.  You know the ones.  They are just a little too big, but they feel ohhhh sooo good!  Yeah…well…anyway, you know what I mean.  Through the many years of ministry up to this point, it was as though I was searching for a more pure form of expression for the Church, the Bride of Christ.  Somehow, sitting in a building, lined up in rows, and staring at the back of people’s heads had never been my idea of Church, and I’m not sure it is what Jesus had in mind either.  Come on!  Do you really think Jesus got all excited and virtually salivated at Caesarea Philippi, during Peter’s great confession, because his Church would be housed in multi-million dollar edifices, and be promoting live-streaming conferences on ‘how to be happier in five easy lessons’?  As I have reviewed the most sacred moments of my walk with Christ in the last forty years, the times, when I have sensed the Presence most have been those, where the programming has been kept to the minimum, and people have been allowed to express their passion for God.  Now that is not to say that a spiritual free-for-all is the answer either.  I’ve been in those kinds of meetings as well..and…trust me…they ain’t fun neither.  In fact, I have had the most spiritually, meaningful experiences of my life in, what some might think, polar opposite venues, a mountain-top in Haiti and an Episcopal Church.  The key was then, and always will be the Presence of God in the midst.  But…I digress.

Once Kathi and I determined we were going to start all over and try to get to know our Lord we needed a frame of reference.  While living in Sarasota, and during the last year there, we were privileged to attend a gathering of believers outside of the city.  They had taken the name, THE CHURCH AT THE BARN.  They now actually meet in a ‘barn’…well…it’s a pretty sophisticated barn, but a barn nonetheless.  However, prior to the building of the barn, they met in the living-room of our friend, Steve Coder.  It was while attending a number of these services that I was arrested by the beauty, and power in simplicity.  I recall one time specifically, sitting in that living-room with about 30-40 brothers and sisters in Christ.  We sat around the wall in a circle with the younger children sitting ‘crisscross-applesauce’.  Get the picture?  Suddenly, Steve called on a twelve-year-old boy to sing.  He stood and sang acapella a song I had never heard about how much he loved Jesus.  The tears streamed down his cheeks as he sang.  That was great, but then I looked around the room and saw a little four-year old girl looking intently at this young man singing with tears running down her cheeks.  Once the song was complete Steve said he felt someone needed to respond to this song in prayer.  The same four-year-old girl began to pray in a most powerful way.  I had never heard most adults pray with as much conviction and knowledge of Christ.  At that point I remember thinking that Steve was sitting on a gold mine of true spirituality.  I recalled the words of Dr. Francis Schaffer, when he defined ‘True Spirituality as being perfectly content at any given moment and always thanking God…’ 

We carried this dream in our hearts as we began to meet in our home.  This period of our lives was to last nearly 3 ½ years. but the residual effects continue to influence us today.  It remains to this day the most rewarding type of ministry we have ever done.  It also was to be one of the greatest times of testing and lessons on faith we have ever had.  You see, our congregation consisted of our three children and their families (thanks kids, so much, for your love and support), and a small handful of other seeking, saints.  Unfortunately, there was not enough finance coming in to support us.  During this transition time Steve Coder had asked me to be on the Board of Hand to the Plow Ministries, which is a para-church, missions work, specifically started to minister to the needs of the suffering people of Haiti.  Now, Hand to the Plow is ministering in numerous places throughout the world.  Additionally, Steve asked, if I would be a Regional Representative for the ministry, which I did.  I was excited to be a part of this ministry, and it has been some of the most personally rewarding ministry I have done.  Because of this mission work, I sent out letters to friends, family, and churches asking for financial support.  Although for those 3 ½ years,  we did not have a regular salary, the Lord marvelously provided for us, and we were never late with one bill, and even paid our rent in advance most of the time. 

There were times, however, when, we would come right down to the ‘wire’, so to speak, and God would make us trust him for his provision.  On one such occasion, I was very concerned about having adequate finance for our needs.  I was praying one morning about it, and the Lord spoke to me through my daily journaling and said, ‘I know you are worried about the money to pay your bills.  Don’t!   I have sent three angels, and that will be enough.’  I closed my journal and tried to rest in the security of his promise.  Later that same day a single mother stopped by our house, unexpectedly, and handed us several dollars.  She said the Lord told her to give us the money.  In the afternoon a friend came to help Kathi wallpaper the bathroom and said that she and her husband felt led to give us some money.  That same evening I received an email from Steve Coder, and at the end he said, ‘Oh, by the way, we took up an offering for you and Kathi Sunday and we’re sending you a check for 342.00.”  The Lord said we were not to worry.  He had sent three angels and that would be enough.  It was enough.  All bills were paid and our faith was filled to the brim.  He doesn’t always answer so miraculously, but he did that time, and that experience, along with the promises in his word, have become the foundation for a deeper faith in a loving, caring, providing God.

STAY TUNED…

September 18th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 2 comments

MY JOURNEY 11

I really never thought we were homeless at the time and I guess in some sense we weren’t, but the reality was for a few months we did not have a place to call ‘home’.  We, however, were so deeply intrenched in the adventure of getting to know our Lord that we did not think much about ‘home’ for a while.  Hiding under the surface of every mile we travelled, though,  was a longing for home.  Home is that place where one feels secure, safe, and a place from which one launches out to discover new ‘lands’ and ‘vistas’.   It is also a place to where one can retreat, if the winds and the waves of life’s sea become too boisterous to walk upon.

After our two weeks in Saint Louis we went to Millerstown, Kentucky, population 32 (and that’s everybody plus some pets).  There’s not much there except a Christian radio station (WJCR), and Don and Gerri Powell.  From that hilltop in southcentral Kentucky they literally broadcast the gospel all over the world.  Don is the brother of Gary Powell from Ormond Beach, FL.  He had asked me to come preach an Indoor Campmeeting for him.  We had a glorious time together.  Don has since gone on to be with the Lord, but his son, Donnie, Jr. is carrying on the work his father started.

September 8th, 2008 Posted by Dave | Biographical | 3 comments