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Telling our stories - a witness of faith - Fall 2007
In 1991 I felt called to give my life to the Lord. However, then I thought: suppose the Lord asks me to go to deepest, darkest Africa and convert the natives. I saw myself lost in the jungle, but then I see a clearing and people, but then I think that maybe they are cannibals! In the language of Satan, he was whispering "you don’t want to do that!" However, that night I was reading the Bible verse where Jesus said: "Come to me and I will give you rest - all of you that work so hard beneath a heavy yoke. Wear my yoke, for it fits perfectly, and let me teach you; for I am gentle and humble, and you shall find rest for your souls; for I give you only light burdens." I thought that I have an escape clause: if Jesus gives me a heavy burden then I just have to say that I accept only light burdens! Giving my life to the Lord was probably the scariest thing I ever did, until I did it, and then it was, and has been, great!
In September at a Church Growth Meeting, we discussed that in the past we had "Laity Sundays" where people told their stories. We decided to do this through November. Pastor Erik announced this in Church, and asked for volunteers to get in touch with me. There were no volunteers! I thought that this would be a heavy burden. However, everyone I asked was shocked that I asked them, but then they said they would think about it, and most got back to me and said yes. Not only were all the Sundays filled, but one Sunday we had two! It turned out to be a light burden indeed, of course!
Bill - November 30, 2007
Dr. Harder asked me a few days ago to provide a witness to faith. In a sense, my faith journey has been guided by a series of encounters with missionaries who have led me to where I am now. The story began even before I was born. At the turn of the century around the time of the Boxer’s Rebellion in 1900, upon hearing of the story of Christ from missionaries who went to China, my grandfather became the first Christian in his village. He was an herbal doctor who healed the poor. He gave land to build schools and clinics, as China was very poor. Beggars would line up in front of the family courtyard daily because they knew that my grandmother would give them food. She kept very little for herself, even though they were part of the landed gentry. Inspite of these deeds of kindness or perhaps because of them, my grandparents were severely persecuted during the Japanese invasion of China in the1930s and then during the Communist takeover of the 40s and 50s. All their land and household belongings were confiscated, and they endured harsh physical punishment. My grandmother’s only request at her deathbed was to ask if she could be buried on her ancestral land.
Some of you know that my mom passed a couple of months ago. My mom inherited her trust in the Lord from her parents. This lineage of faith would not have blossomed, however, without the Anglican and American missionaries who left the comforts of their home to become missionaries in war-torn China. One such missionary was a Bishop Gilman, an Episcopalian from Nebraska who married a lady missionary from Long Island. He and others, including Methodists and Anglicans, helped to establish Yale-in-China in Wuch’ang where my grandparents lived and where I was born.
This Faith Story is a tale of hope and gratitude. The day my mother arrived at Yale-in-China, the university summarily announced plans to flee from Wuch’ang because of the encroaching Japanese forces. This was not a simple journey such as one would take from Bellport to Brooklyn in a Buick or Honda. This was a 1600-mile trek taken by all the faculty and students using whatever means they could, forming a caravan of trucks, jeep and even by foot. As successive towns were bombed en route, the college had to push further west and south, toward present-day Burma….all the while holding classes during the day and worship services in the evening.
Circumstances were difficult. Like the Beatitudes, these missionary faculty and their students had little that was material and YET… experienced the rich blessings of gratitude and faith that often accompany a life of simplicity and…yes, even trials and tribulations.
Peace came with the end of WWII. My parents got married (by Bishop Gilman) and I trekked back to central China with my parents, in my mommy’s tummy. My dad enjoyed studying physics, so he decided to come to the States for his doctorate when I was one-year-old. His dissertation mentor was none other than Dr. George Vineyard of Bellport, former Director of Brookhaven Lab, but at that time a young professor at the Univesity of Missouri. Dad had planned to return to China to teach, so mother and I remained in China. But soon the political situation became grave yet again because of the rise of the Communist regime.
My mom had to flee, this time with me as a toddler in tow. We fled to Hong Kong. By this time, she dared not write to her parents fearing that the Communists would persecute them knowing that their son-in-law had come to America for an education. Mom had no job, no shelter, no acquaintances, no husband at her side….it was the church who took us in. Here she was, a “doctor’s daughter” who became a penniless refugee. We used discarded orange crates as tables and chairs.
I was a toddler and didn’t know the meaning of the hardship that my mother endured. Yet I know my mother’s faith was strengthened during those years of struggle, as I would often see her on her knees praying. She would entrust me in the care of a kindly elderly lady in order to attend Bible study several evenings during the week. One of the sisters at the church was my first preschool Sunday School teacher, Miss Ke. She is in her late 80s now, and spends half the year in Flushing and half the year continuing her mission work in Hong Kong and China. I visit her when I can. That was our existence, simple, Spartan and spiritual.
We waited for eight years to join my Dad because immigration was very tight back in the 1950s during the McCarthy era. It wasn’t until Rev. Golden Smith, pastor of the Methodist church where my father attended, intervened on our behalf by writing a petition to the state’s Senator, that we were finally reunited as a family. When my mother received Dad’s telegram that we would be able to come to America after waiting eight years, one of her first acts of gratitude was to ask a friend to write out a Bible verse that she can bring to America. The verse is from Joshua 24:15….. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.
Shortly after arriving in this country, I became friends with Wyatt Sutton. It was Wyatt’s parents, Methodists from Dover New Jersey, who heard that a Chinese family had just moved into town. We had little; they had just a little more. Nonetheless, they brought over a few pieces of furniture that they could spare from their little home and even lent us their only car when we needed to buy groceries on Friday evenings at the A&P.
Wyatt is very special. You see… he and his wife Yonna have been missionaries in Hondorus for the past 30 years. They get to come back to the States every 6 or 7 years on furlough. We had the opportunity to bring my mom to Dover to have lunch with Wyatt and his wife this summer, just before they returned to Honduras to continue their mission work, and just two weeks before mom’s sudden and massive stroke. They are in their mid-60s now; the last time mom saw Wyatt, why, he was just a 10-year-old kid from New Jersey.
Wyatt was saddened to hear of Mom’s passing on the eve before returning to Honduras. He used the occasion to write a passage entitled “Who is the missionary?” as a tribute to the lasting “missionary-like” influence my parents had on HIM as a youngster. This led him to ask the rhetorical question: Who is the missionary?
Were they the Bishop Gilmans who went to China in the early 1900s inspite of persecutions, poverty, and bombings? Were they the Mrs. Ling’s who befriended a 10-year-old kid from Dover, New Jersey? Are they the present-day Suttons who give hope and a sense of purpose to the wayward kids of Honduras? Can a missionary be even that stranger on a street corner in Bellport or Brooklyn who extends a helping hand to someone in need?
Yes, who IS the missionary?
Flo 11.11.07
WHEN I THINK OF SOMEONE WHO LIVED BY THE SPIRIT, AND WAS GUIDED BY THE SPIRIT, ONE OF THE PERSONS I THINK OF WAS ALICE POWELL. AS MANY OF YOU KNOW, ALICE WAS A MEMBER OF OUR CONGREGATION FOR MANY YEARS. SHE DIED A FEW YEARS AGO, AT THE AGE OF ABOUT 105. SHE WAS A WOMAN OF SIMPLE FAITH, WHO LOVED HER GOD AND HER SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST, AND WHO WITNESSED TO HIS LOVE AND CARE TO ANYONE – AND EVERYONE – SHE MET.
I REMEMBER CLEARLY A SUNDAY ALMOST TWENTY TWO YEARS AGO WHEN ALICE WAS ASKED TO PARTICIPATE IN A LAITY SUNDAY. SEVERAL MEMBERS OF THE CONGREGATION CAME INTO THE PULPIT TO SPEAK, PERHAPS EACH TAKING FIVE MINUTES TO TELL THEIR STORY, TO WITNESS TO THEIR FAITH, OR PERHAPS TO MUSE UPON WHY THEY COME TO CHURCH. ALICE TOLD OF A LIFE THAT HAD BEEN FAR FROM EASY. SHE HAD BEEN WIDOWED AT A YOUNG AGE, WITH SEVERAL SMALL CHILDREN AND NO MEANS OF SUPPORT. THIS MAY WELL HAVE BEEN DURING THE PERIOD OF WORLD WAR I. SHE HAD DONE THE ONLY THING SHE KNEW HOW TO DO; SHE HAD TAKEN IN OTHER PEOPLE’S LAUNDRY. IF MEMORY SERVES ME RIGHT, SHE RECEIVED 5 CENTS A BASKET TO WASH AND IRON THAT LAUNDRY. OF COURSE, THERE WERE NO ELECTRIC WASHING MACHINES, OR DRYERS THEN, AND ONE CAN PICTURE THIS YOUNG MOTHER SCRUBBING LAUNDRY ON A WASH BOARD, AND PROBABLY USING A FLAT IRON, PERHAPS WARMED ON A WOOD BURNING STOVE, TO PAINSTAKINGLY IRON IT ALL. SHE PROBABLY WORKED FAR INTO THE NIGHT TO SUPPORT HER YOUNG FAMILY, AND SOMEONE OF A LESSER FAITH WOULD UNDOUBTEDLY HAVE ASKED, "WHY ME? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS HARD LIFE?"
ALICE WAS EVENTUALLY TO RE-MARRY, THIS TIME TO RALPH POWELL. ALTHOUGH I UNDERSTAND THAT RALPH TOO WAS A DYNAMIC CHRISTIAN IN HIS EARLIER YEARS, BY THE TIME I SAW RALPH POWELL, HE WAS QUITE ELDERLY, TOTALLY BLIND, AND IN NEED OF ALICE’S CONSTANT CARE. ALICE HERSELF WAS EVENTUALLY TO LOSE HER SIGHT. BUT ALICE DID NOT STAND BEFORE US THAT DAY COMPLAINING OF A HARD LIFE; SHE STOOD BEFORE US AND GLOWINGLY TOLD US HOW GOOD GOD HAD BEEN TO HER; HOW GOD HAD TAKEN CARE OF HER, AND HOW BLESSED SHE WAS. SHE SPOKE OF HOW SHE THANKED GOD EVERY DAY FOR THE BLESSINGS HE HAD BESTOWED UPON HER, AND HOW SHE PRAYED TO HIM, NOT ONLY FOR HERSELF, BUT FOR A VERY LONG LIST OF OTHERS. I WAS ON THAT LIST. WHEN ALICE FINISHED SPEAKING, WE SANG THE HYMN "TRUST AND OBEY" AND THERE WAS NO DOUBT THAT ALICE LIVED BY THOSE WORDS.
AT THE TIME I HEARD ALICE SPEAK, I HAD BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH CANCER. THE CANCER HAD SPREAD INTO MY LYMPHATIC SYSTEM, AND I WAS IN WHAT WAS CONSIDERED TO BE THE LAST CURABLE STAGE. ONE MORE MALIGNANT LYMPH NODE AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN CONSIDERED IN STAGE FOUR, WHEREIN TREATMENT WOULD HAVE BEEN DEEMED ONLY PALLIATIVE. AFTER SIX WEEKS OF CHEMOTHERAPY, I HAD LOST ALL MY HAIR, AND MY LEGS HAD BECOME SO WEAK THAT I COULD NO LONGER DRIVE BACK AND FORTH TO WORK. I WAS THE SOLE BREAD WINNER OF MY FAMILY, AND AS SUCH NOT WORKING WAS NOT AN OPTION.
A CO-WORKER WAS KIND ENOUGH TO DRIVE ME TO WORK, AND MY BOSS DROVE ME HOME. AFTER SIX WEEKS OF TREATMENT, I BEGAN TO SPIKE HIGH FEVERS OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN, AND WAS RE-ADMITTED TO THE HOSPITAL WITH THE DIAGNOSIS OF SEPSIS, A POTENTIALLY FATAL CONDITION. DESPITE INTRAVENOUS ADMINISTRATION OF ANTIBIOTICS TWENTY FOUR HOURS A DAY, MY WHITE BLOOD COUNT DROPPED WITH EVERY BLOOD TEST, WHICH TESTS WERE TAKEN EVERY HOUR. I BELIEVE I WAS SLOWLY SLIPPING AWAY. AND THEN, AFTER NINE DAYS, THE FEVERS BROKE AND THE BLOOD COUNTS BEGAN TO SLOWLY RISE. EVIDENTLY GOD WASN’T FINISHED WITH ME YET.
I WAS SENT HOME TO RESUME THE DREADED CHEMOTHERAPY TREATMENTS. AS PART OF THE REGIMEN, IN ADDITION TO THE WEEKLY INTRAVENOUS OF THE SO-CALLED "CHEMO COCKTAIL", I TOOK A NIGHTLY DOSE OF CYTOXIN, LITERALLY TRANSLATED "CELL POISON". THIS WAS TARGETED AT KILLING THE DEADLY CANCER CELLS, WITHOUT QUITE KILLING THE PATIENT – A DELICATE BALANCE INDEED. I WOULD AWAKE EACH NIGHT, DRENCHED IN PERSPIRATION, SHIVERING AND COLD IN THE WINTER NIGHT.
ON THE NIGHT OF ALICE POWELL’S TESTIMONY, I AWOKE, AS USUAL, SOAKED WITH PERSPIRATION, AND SHIVERING COLD. UNABLE TO GET BACK TO SLEEP, I REACHED FOR A BOOK BY MY BEDSIDE AND OPENED RANDOMLY TO A PAGE NEAR THE BACK OF THE BOOK. IT WAS AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF NORMAN VINCENT PEALE. THE PAGE I HAPPENED TO OPEN TO TOLD OF A MAN BY THE NAME OF HARRY DE CAMP, A VIGOROUS AND SUCCESSFUL BUSINESSMAN, WHO ONE DAY SUDDENLY FELT ILL. TESTS CONFIRMED A LARGE CANCEROUS MASS BEHIND HIS GALL BLADDER AND AFTER FURTHER EVALUATION AT A WELL KNOWN NEW YORK CITY CANCER HOSPITAL, HARRY WAS SENT HOME TO DIE. HARRY SPENT HIS DAYS STARING UNSEEINGLY AT THE TELEVISION, UNTIL A FRIEND SENT HIM A CARD THAT READ "THROUGH GOD ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE". HARRY SAID TO HIMSELF, "I HAVE NEVER DONE ANYTHING FOR GOD, WHY SHOULD GOD NOW REACH DOWN TO HELP ME?", BUT A SEED HAD BEEN PLANTED, AND HARRY KEPT THE CARD WHERE HE COULD SEE IT. ANOTHER FRIEND SENT HARRY A COPY OF GUIDEPOSTS MAGAZINE, WHICH CONTAINED AN ARTICLE ABOUT A FORMER BASKETBALL STAR, WHO HAD BEEN SO SHOT UP IN WAR THAT HE HAD BEEN DECLARED A PERPETUAL INVALID, WITH NO CHANCE OF EVER EVEN WALKING AGAIN, LET ALONE PLAYING BASKETBALL. THIS MAN WAS A MAN OF FAITH, HOWEVER, AND HE PRAYED CONSTANTLY, AND IMAGINED HIMSELF RESTORED TO HIS FORMER SELF, WHICH WAS EVENTUALLY TO COME TO PASS. ENCOURAGED BY THIS STORY, HARRY TOO BEGAN TO PRAY, HALTINGLY AT FIRST, BUT THEN EARNESTLY, UNTIL PERHAPS A HUNDRED TIMES A DAY HARRY IMAGINED A CHRIST LIKE FIGURE, LEADING AN ARMY OF WHITE BLOOD CELLS INTO MORTAL COMBAT WITH HIS CANCER CELLS. I IMAGINE THIS AS SOMEWHAT OF A MEDICAL "ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS". HARRY’S PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED, AND IN TIME HE TOO WAS CURED AND WENT ON NOT ONLY TO WRITE INSPIRING ARTICLES FOR GUIDEPOSTS MAGAZINE, BUT TO PUBLISH A BOOK ABOUT HIS EXPERIENCE OF HEALING AS WELL. PEOPLE BEGAN TO WRITE AND TO CALL HARRY, AND HARRY OPENED HIMSELF TO ALL WHO SOUGHT HIS HELP. A SMALL SEED OF THOUGHT, PLANTED BY A CARD, NOURISHED BY A LITTLE MAGAZINE SENT BY A FRIEND, WAS THUS EVENTUALLY TO BECOME NOT ONLY A LIFE SAVED, BUT A LIFE THEN GIVEN TO HELPING OTHERS. ONE CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO IMAGINE THE RIPPLE EFFECT OF THAT ONE LITTLE CARD WITH THE WORDS "THROUGH GOD ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE".
AS I READ THOSE TWO PAGES, ALICE’S TESTIMONY THEN CAME BACK INTO MY MIND, AND THE HYMN "TRUST AND OBEY" PLAYED IN MY HEAD, OVER AND OVER. SUDDENLY I WAS FILLED WITH AN OVERWHELMING SENSE OF WARMTH AND ASSURANCE THAT I TOO WOULD SURVIVE MY ORDEAL WITH CANCER, AND THAT MY PRAYER, THAT I SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH TO NURTURE MY TWO YOUNG BOYS TO MATURITY, WOULD BE ANSWERED. SINCE I AM STANDING BEFORE YOU TODAY, IT IS CLEAR THAT GOD WASN’T FINISHED WITH ME YET BACK IN 1985, AND THAT MY PRAYER WAS INDEED ANSWERED. NOT ONLY HAVE I BEEN ABLE TO SEE MY YOUNG BOYS TO MATURITY, BUT I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH DAUGHTERS-IN-LAW AND GRANDCHILDREN AS WELL.
JUST AS ALICE POWELL AND A FEW PAGES OF A BOOK OPENED RANDOMLY CAME TO BE A CONDUIT FOR THE HOLY SPIRIT TO BE FELT IN MY LIFE, SO EACH OF US HAS THE OPPORTUNITY, ALTHOUGH WE NEVER KNOW JUST WHERE OR WHEN, TO BE A CONDUIT BY WHICH WE MAY NOURISH ONE OTHER. THINK OF THE POWER OF ONE LIFE: YOUR LIFE. JUST AS JESUS CHRIST, AND PAUL, AND ELIJAH, AND YES, ALICE POWELL, WERE EACH ONLY ONE PERSON, YOU TOO ARE ONE, AND YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU MIGHT JUST BE IN THE RIGHT PLACE, AND THE RIGHT TIME, TO BE A MESSENGER OF GOD’S GRACE TO ANOTHER, OR HOW IMPORTANT YOUR PRESENCE MAY BE TO SOMEONE STRUGGLING ON LIFE’S PATH. MAY WE BE OPEN TO THOSE OPPORTUNITIES, ASSURED THAT GOD STANDS WITH US, READY AND ANXIOUS TO GUIDE US AND TO UPHOLD US IN THE GOOD TIMES, AND THE BAD, IF WE WILL BUT SEEK HIS STILL, SMALL VOICE AND STRIVE TO BE LED BY HIS SPIRIT.
AS YOU CHOOSE THE WAY IN WHICH YOU WILL LIVE YOUR LIFE, DAY BY DAY, MAY YOU LIVE IN THE SPIRIT OF GOD, LED BY THE SPIRIT OF GOD, AND EVER MINDFUL OF THE POWER OF ONE - THAT ONE BEING YOU, TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THIS WORLD.
GOD BLESS YOU ALL IN YOUR JOURNEY.
Ellen - November 4, 2007
Growing In Faith by Bill Ray
Erik has asked me to provide some testimony to my faith journey and I have agreed to that. My faith journey is not one of an Aldersgate experience; Paul on the road to Damascus; being born again through some dramatic encounter with Jesus. There are people in this congregation that have had such an experience and we have heard their testimony. This is clearly within the Methodist tradition, although the Baptists seem inclined to talk about it more.
My faith journey is one of nurture and growth. I see some nods around the room. There are others that have had that experience. For me, that nurture and growth has been based on four foundations:
o Regular attendance at worship
o Regular study of the Word in practice in my life
o Service to others
o Commitment
Does that sound familiar. It should. We take that vow upon joining the Church. But what’s my testimony?
Worship I travel a lot. It would be easy to take Sunday off when I am not at home. I could be sitting at my house reading the NY Times, but here I am instead giving testimony to that nurture of worship.
Study I was in Sunday school and VBS as a child and that provided a foundation. More importantly, as an adult, I have always been involved in adult Sunday school and Bible study. That’s nurture.
Service I have found a lot of nurture in participating in the day to day work of the church on committees and events. I have found great nurture in reaching out in service projects and mission to others.
Commitment As an adult, I have always committed a part of my financial resources in regular giving. My commitment is nurture to me.
I want to take this time to speak to you as an individual and I am going to be as serious as a heart attack.
o I probably don’t have to encourage you to attend worship regularly, because here you are. Here I am literally preaching to the choir. Here is what I would ask you to do, reach out to those members that are not in worship regularly.
I do encourage you to become involved in Sunday school or a regular bible study group. You will come to know those people as brothers and sisters and it is hard to overestimate the nurture you personally will draw from that. To church leaders, I would say you may wish to make this opportunity more available than what I see.
o Make it a point to get involved in a service projects. Reach out, it will be fun and I guarantee, you will grow in faith.
o This is the time of year when we are asked to commit. Several Sunday’s ago I was impressed with all the cards that were held up by members showing the many ways this church means something to them. Do you remember that. Did that not “feel your heart strangely warmed?” Here’s what I say: Step up. Give till it feels good. Trust me in this, you will be nurtured by that step in faith.
So that is my testimony. I have very much enjoyed the time I have spent here. I hope that I have been able to be of some help while I was here. Thank you for the wonderful and warm Church home you have provided, it has been a source of great nurture.
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