Our Stories As Part of God's Story:

I am just three days away from preaching at First Presbyterian Church of Downey and just four days away from being back in the office and back to pastoral ministry full time. In some ways it seems like I have not been gone that long. In other ways it seems like a very long time.

When I think about all that I have done, it seems like a very long time. The places I have traveled and the people I have met and consulted with and the experiences I have had have been so rich and full that it seems like a year or more! But when I think about the people at FPC and the staff and ministry we have together it does not seem like I have been gone very long at all. Because so much of what I was doing the three months away was related to the ministry of FPC in some ways it did not seem like I was away at all. I was still doing ministry. I was just not in the office.

Even the travel and research I did around my father’s war experience was related to my ministry. As I reflected on it all and as I have been writing and painting about what I saw and learned I have learned a lot about who I am as a person and a pastor. I will be sharing some of this with you all as we prepare to celebrate 125 years in 2011. It has been three months of story discovery and story telling. Our 125th anniversary will be a lot of story discovery and telling. Our newer members and friends need to hear the old stories. And our older members and friends need to hear the stories of the new people God has brought to our family of faith.

Above it all and in and through it all God is writing his story (history!). For 125 years God has been at work in and through the story of FPC. What do you suppose he wants to write for the next 125 years if the Lord does not return before then? This question is important for us as a church. But it is equally important for each of us to ask for ourselves. What has God done in my life up until now? And what does he want to do in my life in the next number of years?

These are two of the questions I have been pondering on my sabbatical. And because I am the pastor of FPC it has been an important part of my pondering. I believe that God has an exciting plan for us as a church. I believe we are poised to be a significant witness in Downey, and Southern California, and around the nation. We have been given a very unusual opportunity to demonstrate God’s wide and wonderful kingdom on earth. Less than 7% of congregations (of all faiths and denominations) in American are multicultural (less than 80% of one dominant culture). And among protestant Christian churches it is even lower than that. Although it creates significant challenges, our diverse family of faith is a gift from God to be used to tell God’s amazing story of love for the world.

We are poised to be part of an exciting story God is writing. We know what the end will be. But until then, we have an opportunity to make a difference in the world and to make a difference for eternity. I’m back! And more excited than ever about what God will be doing in and through FPC.

Yesterday I finished the first draft of my father’s story thta I have been working on during my sabbatical. What a great feeling! I started working on this over 20 years ago. When I started full time ministry it took a back seat for a few years. Coming to Downey in 2003 and losing my father in 2006 reignitedd my desire to write his story. The place I find myself in professionally and personally I know have been significantly influenced by my father. My sabbatical afforded the opportunity to explore this influence both for personal enrichment and professional development.

But as soon as I hit the last period on the draft I began wondering if I missed anything really important. The minute I was done I began thinking about adding more to it. This is not surprising. After all, it is a first draft. I already have someone reading it to give me first impressions and make suggestions and recommendations about improving it. And, I knew this project would take a lot longer than three months so I assumed all along that I would need to keep working on it after my sabbatical was over.

The fact that I am done, but not done is a good thing. This is actually the way the bible describes us as followers of Christ. We are new creations in Christ. Everything that needed to be done for us was completed in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. I am a child of God, a joint-heir with Christ, and guaranteed a place in Christ’s eternal kingdom. But this is just the first draft! I am also destined or predestined to become like Christ. Jesus paid it all but now he wants to work in and through me to complete what he started. He has redeemed me now he wants to reform me. He has forgiven me now he wants to redirect me. He has written the first draft now he wants to help me add color and light to the script to make it a full blown story of God’s grace and mercy.

What is true of us individually is also true of us as a church. Jesus has established the church (the gathered saints) and said that the gates of hell will not prevail against it. But he has given us his Spirit to work in and through us to live out what he has established. He has given us the first draft and now we are responsible with his help to write the story. I Peter 3 says that we have everything that we need to do that. In the case of FPC we have had significant recent evidence of God’s gifts to us for future ministry. In addition to our long standing faithful members we have a lot of new and very committed people. And our membership increasingly reflects the community we live in. We have a staff that is incredibly gifted and seriously committed to our mission. We have lay leaders who understand and support the mission of the church with all their resources-time, talent and finances. We have new connections to our neighborhood that are revitalizing our ministry and mission. God is at work on our story!

So for FPC this probably isn’t the first draft since we have been around 125 years. But it is another draft and the story continues to be written. The FPC story is an exciting one and a challenging one. God is faithful and if we are willing to allow him to work in our individual lives helping us write our personal stories, he will also help us write our corporate story.

I am anxious to return and share my sabbatical story. But I am also anxious to hear more of your stories. What draft have you just completed? What part of your story is God working on? What will be the next chapter of the FPC story?

As I write this blog I have been on sabbatical for two and a half months. Two weeks from Sunday I will be back in the pulpit and back into the ministry of First Presbyterian Church of Downey full steam ahead. Alfredo has told me that everyone is already bracing for what plans and ideas I might come back with! But my sabbatical was not about plans and ideas. It really was about rest and renewal and reflection on the ministry God has given us at Downey First.

In some ways it feels like I have only been gone a short while. In other ways it feels like I have been gone a very long time. When I think about all that I have seen, and felt, and experienced, it seems like a very long time. But when I think about the people and ministry of FPC it does not seem like I have been gone very long at all.

Certainly I have seen and learned things during my sabbatical that have given me ideas about future ministry. But the major impact of my time away was to see and experience just how big God really is. You can know something on an intellectual level but when you actually experience it the learning is on a much deeper level. God is so big. I am almost always guilty of believing in a God that is way too small. Even though I have experienced over 50 years of his faithfulness and greatness I still find myself doubting in the face of obstacles and difficulty. I am so prone to put my trust in my own abilities and efforts instead of the power and promises of God. Can you believe that? How ignorant that I would actually think I am somehow more capable than God. And I am also guilty of measuring the effectiveness of our ministry against that of other churches. No two ministries are alike and God does not expect the same results from every ministry. His results-his purposes are fulfilled in a million different ways. As I am know to say often, we are not called to be successful, we are called to be faithful. When we are faithful God is always successful. He always accomplishes what he purposes to do in and through us one way or another.

What I have seen in so many places in the world and in getting to know and learn from so many different kinds of people is that God is powerfully at work in every place. Every person and every church has problems and faces challenges. There is no perfect church with perfect circumstances. But this makes sense. If we had the perfect church with perfect staff and all perfect members and perfect circumstances why would we need God? The very fabric of life is woven with our own deficiencies and failings so that we will look to and depend on the Lord for what we need. Over and over again in the scriptural narratives God takes away the props and supports of his followers so that he can demonstrate that it is HIS power and provision that sustains us, not our own. This means that when we see problems and challenges in our ministry we ought not get in a huddle and wring our hands and spend sleepless nights worrying. The challenge is a call to opportunity. It is an opportunity to trust God and see his power and provision. This is what I saw and learned over and over again during my sabbatical. Church after church, ministry after ministry, person after person for whom God is the great and powerful provider.

The great news is that the most creative and innovative and effective movements in ministry today are coming out of churches that are very diverse in their make up. This, too, should not surprise us. Not only does God glory in taking away our power and demonstrating his, but he also glories in displaying that he works with people of every tribe and nation and station in life. Often in the scripture the least likely person in the story is the one God chooses to use as an instrument for building his kingdom.

At First Presbyterian Church of Downey we are very well positioned to receive and experience the power of God working through us because we are such a diverse community. We have resources in people that many churches can only dream about. Our future as a church does not depend on financial resources alone, its primary resource is its people. Good thing because we are presently challenged financially but we are rich in people resources. Don’t get me wrong. We will need increased generosity financially in order to continue our ministry and mission but money cannot buy the people God has given to us. And our need to be dependent on God for our financial needs will only increase our wealth spiritually.

I am not back yet. But I am almost back. I will be with you all in worship on the 16th of May. Get ready. Brace yourselves. Not for the ideas I will bring back with me, but for the power and promise of God that he is just dying to reveal to us and demonstrate through us.

Many years ago I read the book, Who Speaks for God, by Chuck Colson. It had a lasting impression on me. People often make statements about what God has done or not done. Some people even claim that God has told them something. I always wondered about this. I have been a serious follower of Christ most of my life and read and studied the bible for many years. I often have what a sort of “sense” of what God wants me to do. Scripture constantly runs through my mind and instructs my daily life. I sometimes experience what I call “promptings” regarding things that I should do or say or not do or not say. Christian friends and colleagues also help me to know what God wants by their interaction with me and with the scripture and their own lives of trying to faithfully follow Christ. But I have never audibly heard God speak, not even in a dream.

People also often attribute all sorts of events and happenings to the Lord. If you take these comments seriously then God is finding parking places for people as well as making cancerous tumors disappear. What Colson points out in his book and I believe the scripture supports is that only God can speak for God. Only God speaking for himself can definitively say what he has done and has not done. This is what is recorded often in the scripture. Moses comes upon a burning bush and he is not left to wonder if this is some fancy work of God to get his attention. A voice speaks and tells him it is God! When Jesus is baptized and the heavens open and a dove descends, those looking on are not left to wonder what this means. A voice is heard from the heavens that declares, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. Hear him!” Over and over again in the bible when God does something God interprets what it is he has done. But what about the times when things happen that seem so clearly supernatural either in their very nature or in the timing? Is it wrong to give praise and glory to God for these good things? Is it wrong to give him credit for them? Well… no and yes.

In one sense we know that God reigns and rules over every thing that happens. And we know that without his sovereign care nothing would exist. And it is good to give thanks for all that we are and have. But there is a difference between this general truth of God’s absolute responsibility for all of creation and a more specific theology of causation. Everything that happens God allows and nothing could happen without his allowance but this does not mean that God directly causes or is responsible for every single thing that happens in life. God has designed the world with built in cause and effect laws. God does not make a person get drunk. And God does not make a drunk person get into a car and drive. Consequently God does not cause the death of person killed by a drunk driver. This tragic series of events is a result of human choices and the laws of cause and effect. God has created all things that exist. Tornadoes, hurricanes, floods all are the natural consequences of natural laws God put in place. But this is not to say that God cause Hurricane Katrina! But at least one time God took absolute responsibility for such a natural disaster—the flood in Genesis. But God spoke directly to Noah and told him what he was about to do.

So why am I going on and on about this? In my sabbatical blogging I took the risk and in so doing committed the error of attributing to God something that God did not have anything to do with. It was pure and simple my error. It was an honest mistake and wishful thinking encouraged by the very emotional experience I was having. But bottom line, I attributed an event as being God’s providence for me when I now have learned it was not.

In my blogging I told the story of accidently finding my father’s name on the wall at the Camp Cabanatuan Memorial. You may recall I was actually looking for the name of my uncle who died at the camp and in my easily confused mind I mistakenly took a photo in the Davis section, my father’s last name, instead of the Brown section which was my uncle’s last name. Then when I was looking at my pictures later in the day I saw at the very top of the picture with the Davis section the name Kenneth E Davis. This was my dad’s name. My heart lept and I surmised that I had accidently gotten a picture of my dad’s name. Now I must confess I was unsure just for a moment. But I so desperately wanted to find his name that I put my doubt aside. I immediately began thanking the Lord and interpreted this as his gracious gift to a mistaken prone traveler. It was the gift of a mistaken photograph.

What a great story! Folks who read my blog and email were repeating it all over the country! It makes for such great journalism and it really encourages us about God’s intimate interaction with our everyday lives. I wish I could keep the story and keep telling the story. But alas, good scholarship and honesty does not allow for it. After returning home I did more research and realized my error. The commemorative wall of names at Cabanatuan is only of those who died in the camp. I should have known this. Tens of thousands of men were in the camp and the monument was not big enough to register that many names. But I wrongly concluded that the one side of the monument was of the decedents (deceased) and the other side of those who survived. Not so. All the names listed are of those who perished in the camp.

And this squares with my other knowledge. The Kenneth E Davis listed on the memorial wall was listed as a Sergeant (SGT). My father was a Staff Sergeant (SSGT). I also recalled that my father had told me (I I also have record of this from an newspaper interview he did) that his parents received notice that he had died during the war. It was because of this other Kenneth E Davis who was in the same camp as my father that they got such a notice. And it is because of this other Kenneth E Davis that I got so excited about seeing what I thought was my father’s name on the memorial wall. And I confess I also got excited about what I thought the good Lord had done for this confused traveler.

No one was hurt by this mistaken attribution of mine. It was an honest and sincere mistake. But nonetheless it has once again reinforced for me the truth of what Scripture reveals and what Chuck Colson wrote about so many years ago. We ought to be very cautious when we attribute anything to the Lord¸ good or bad. Our language is often sloppy when it comes to describing God’s interaction with our lives. It is good to give thanks to God and it is good to recognize that everything we are and have is a gift from him. But we must exercise humility and caution when we begin to proclaim what God has said and done outside of what scripture specifically reveals that he has said and done. It can be very hurtful and tragic in other circumstances. I know of many instances when the miraculous healing of a person has been attributed to God only to have the person die days or weeks later. This kind of credit does God no honor and weakens our faith.

I think I will keep the picture from the wall at Cabanatuan with the name Kenneth E Davis on it. But I will keep it mostly to remind myself of how great God is and how fallible I am in my attempts at speaking for him. He is perfectly capable of speaking for himself when he wants to and needs to. When he does not speak I need to be silent and trust him anyway.

Four years ago today (Sunday the 18th) my father died. He survived the Bataan Death March, two death camps in the Philippine Islands, the Noto Maru, one of the Hellships to Japan, and forced labor in a copper mine in northern Japan. He did not survive Alzheimers Disease.
The questions people have asked me about the impact of my trip to retrace his steps have helped me to understand more about how my father’s experience shaped me. My father was one determined guy! No wonder! One of the identified characteristics of those who survived these WWII nightmares was sheer determination. The will to live is a powerful force. In my work in hospitals I have often seen in charts and heard from doctors the cause of death of older adults as “failure to thrive.” This is another way of saying the person no longer had the will or determination to live and so they slowly died.
Certainly POW’s died as a result of starvation, disease and the wounds of war. But among the rest were similar in their disease and deprivation and some survived and some did not. Several people I have talked to and several accounts I have read describe the look in a soldiers eyes when they had given up. They say you could tell when a soldier was going to die because their eyes were blank and within a few hours or a few days at most they were gone. But many who were deathly sick and starving did not die. There was a light in their eyes. There was a set in their jaw. They were determined to not let their captors have the last word.
From when I was a young child I experienced this stubborn determination. Any hint of challenge could set me off on a mission to prove the thing was doable. Over and over again I would find myself in the middle of a seemingly insurmountable problem and wonder, “how did I get myself into this?!” In high school in the seventies it was the beginning of the recycling movement that got me going. Long before the local governments took on the task of recycling newsprint my little high school in southern Minnesota began a recycling program. We started it from scratch. We found an empty building and lobbied for its free use. We set up a pick up and drop off schedule. We successfully found donated trucks and volunteer drivers to deliver our collection to our contracted recycler 100 miles away. I remember standing in the middle of our recycling building filled with paper and wondering, “how did I get myself into this?!” This recycling project had grown into a full blown affair requiring hundreds of volunteers and thousands of hours and complex scheduling and resourcing. It was the strong determination inherited and learned from my father. It was the will to survive these challenges that got me into them and I learned it from my father. Whatever challenge faced him whether it was physical, mechanical, or mental or spiritual, I saw the light in his eyes and I watched him set his jaw and he got right in the middle of whatever it was that was challenging him. This¸ by God’s grace, is one of the things that enabled him to survive the horrors of life as a POW in the Philippines and Japan. And though Alzheimers took his earthly life, the grace of God in Christ’s death and resurrection had already overcome the challenge of this kind of death and that same grace four years ago led him home.

I do not remember how many times this phrase occurs in the scriptures. I know it is a lot. My new computer does not yet have my bible program loaded so I cannot check it out as I usually would. In the Old Testament angels and theophanies (God appearing to humans in different forms) announced it frequently. In the New Testament in addition to angels, Jesus proclaimed this often. In both cases, it is the presence of God that elicits the “do not be afraid” response.

I have finally gotten settled enough after returning from all my traveling and getting necessary tasks completed to begin painting again. But, as I checked my mental and emotional inner workings I realized that I was afraid. As a result of my hospitalization and recovery, Christmas and New Years schedule, and preparation for the sabbatical, I realized I had not painted for several months. I was afraid to try. The events and experiences of the last two months have been so emotional and so significant for me I was afraid that I would not be able to adequately express on canvas what I had seen and experienced. I was afraid and I recognized that I was stalling with all sorts of “tasks” because I was afraid to start. Once I realized this, I admitted it and asked God to help me start again. I asked God to allow me to express what I needed to express in a way that would be honoring of the significance of the events and people and honoring of God. I said a prayer and I began.

I spent the first half of the day writing and then about noon I began painting. This time it was a picture from the National Archives of burial duty at Camp O’Donnell in the Philippines that I wanted to paint. Lo and behold, it just came out of me again, and it wasn’t bad. You can see the unfinished work posted here.  Once I had perspective I got so into painting that by the time I looked at my watch it was 7:30 p.m.!

Why was I afraid? This is a very unique time for me given my sabbatical travel and ministry circumstances. But I think every one experiences this kind of paralyzing fear at times. It is a result of loss of perspective, I believe.

First and foremost, for the Christian, fear is always a result of not recognizing and trusting the presence of God in our lives. We are afraid because we think we are all on our own. This is a loss of perspective.  I was never alone in all my sabbatical travels. And God has been with me all the days of my life, as the Psalmist says.  Now that I have returned, God will be with me as I process this sabbatical experience through writing and painting. If I ask him to be honored through what I do, he will give me whatever I need to do it accordingly. We are also afraid because of pride. I want it to look a certain way and I want other people to like it. But if my heart really desires to honor the Lord, then no matter what it looks like to others it will be pleasing to God. I need to put my own pride aside if I want to please God.  This perspective also drives out fear. And finally, I think we are afraid because we are so performance oriented. Whether it is painting, or singing, or writing, or preparing a meal for guests, we are so pressured by performing well. The scripture says, WHATEVER you do, do as unto the Lord. We do not have to perform for God. We simply need to acknowledge his presence and offer up whatever we have to him. He will take care of the results. This perspective eliminates fear of failure.

So, I am not afraid to paint again. This afternoon and evening I will finish up this painting of the O’Donnell burial duty. And tomorrow I will start on another one. The Lord is with me. The Lord is honored by my desire to please him no matter what the painting turns out like. And the Lord knows how very significant all of this is to my life and my ministry. He will give me whatever I need to be faithful in all that I endeavor to do in his name. Whatever it is that you are being called to do, Be not afraid!

(After returning and skimming through the printed version of my sabbatical blog I realized I had missed blogging about a very significant experience in the Philippines. So this one is definitely out of order but a “must be included” for the journey.)

Tuesday, March 2, we took a ferry from Manila to Corregidor, a small rock island just off the southeastern coast of Bataan, Luzon, Philippines. There a major American contingent was stationed before the war to protect the shipping lanes in the Manila Bay and the South China Sea. Its guns could reach the Bataan Peninsula but defending Bataan was not its primary reason for being. Because of this the contingent was not as able to do much to help defend those on Bataan and because the airfield filled with American planes had been bombed to smithereens the American and Filipino troops on Bataan were left virtually defenseless and unable to be resupplied or assisted. My dad was not on Corregidor but he talked about it a lot. Corregidor was where MacArthur left from after the fall of Bataan and it is where he returned to after the surrender of Japan.

Not by planning but by providence we just happened to be there for a special celebration. It was the 65th anniversary of the return of Gen. MacArthur to the Philippines. You may remember his promise when he left, “ I shall return.” He did. Unfortunately for the Bataan forces it was almost four years later when they were initially expecting him to return in a matter of weeks! We could see Bataan from the Island and got a better geographical picture of what happened. We stayed in the Corregidor Inn overnight and had a taste of the locals as we were invited down by the beach for some appetizers and domestic beer. All were very tasty!

We received this invitation because we met the guide from our tour and he was from Minnesota! I had been corresponding with him about helping us on our Bataan tour but we were not able to connect due to some unfortunate turn of events. But when we met after the tour, we visited with him and his wife (Steve and Marcia Kwiecinski) who now live on Corregidor and are working with the Filipino organization that is trying to restore and promote the Island. We had a great visit with them. And because I knew he knew so much about the whole Philippine Island part of the war I asked him about a possibility.

You may remember from one of my previous blogs that we ran out of time on Monday and I did not get to see some important places related to my dad’s experience. One was Mariveles which was the primary location of the start of the Death March. It is on the very southern tip of Bataan and it is where most of the troops surrendered and were gathered for the march. This is really the OOkm Marker. We had visited Bagac on Monday which was the location where a few troops on the western side of the island were gathered and began their march. Another 00km marker is located there. But my dad began at Mariveles. On a map we received at a tourism center Drew and I noticed that there was a boat transport service from Corregidor to Bataan near Mariveles. It can’t hurt to ask, right? So I asked Steve if there was any chance we would have time on Tuesday morning to take one of those boats and get to Mariveles and do part of the Death March route and return in time to catch our ferry back to Manila. Holy cow (naku po, in Tagalog), he said yes! I was so thrilled. This is one thing I really wanted to do—to start at the beginning where dad started and walk a piece of the Death March route.

Well, we really walked a piece of it! We took a Bangka (outrigger boat) from Corregidor to Cabcaben, then a tricycle (motorcycle with a sidecar) to the highway to catch a bus to Mariveles, about 17 km. There we saw the 00 Death March Marker where my father began this horrific march. Silly me. I cried again! Then we began our walk 17 km back to Cabcaben knowing that we could wave down a Jeepney (a open air jeep modified into a little bus) or another tricycle anytime we needed to call it quits.

We ended up walking the entire 17 km, a little more than 10 miles, back to the bay to catch our outrigger boat back to Corregidor. I got to walk ten miles of the Death March route! I cannot believe it! I walked for almost three hours in the hot sun where my dad walked 68 years ago, almost to the day. The difference? I was well fed, not sick, and I had bottles of water galore! Plus I used an umbrella the last four miles or so. I felt guilty drinking water and having shade! I felt like I needed to walk it without water and without shade! My dad did! And so did almost 70,000 other men. They walked 5 times as far, day and night with only one stop for some food and water. They were severely malnourished when they began and most were seriously ill with malaria, beri beri, and dysentery to name just a few of the diseases they suffered from. My dad turned 21, twenty days before he began this march. What a way to mark the passage into adulthood!

It was a privilege just to walk a small part of this route and to see the terrain that my father saw. I got to walk 10 miles of the march! As I looked around I saw the mountain range off in the distance. My dad saw these. Along the road I could see artesian wells. My father talked about these and what hazards they became as thirsty starving men broke lines to try and get a drink. They were killed for trying. I could still see nipa huts made of grass and bamboo that my father had told me about in his stories describing the countryside. As we passed fields of rice and sugar cane stories my father told me flooded my mind and my eyes filled with tears. We passed several domestic cattle that stopped their grazing and chewing to see these strange foreigners walking along their pastures. I could not help but think of a Gary Larson cartoon and its possible caption. My father told me stories of stealing and killing and eating these domesticated cattle in order to stay alive during the battle for Bataan. I am healthy and was well fed at the time and had bottles of water on demand. I had good walking shoes and an umbrella to shield me from the sun. I could stop whenever I wanted and rest or flag down a ride. I was walking this path freely of my own choosing. My father walked it at the end of a bayonet with men falling and dying all along the way. He walked it not for 17 km but for 70 or 80 km day and night for five days without rest or sleep. He had an empty stomach and no water. He could not stop and rest and he had no shade. He was not healthy. He was malnourished and sick with malaria and beri beri and severe diarrhea. This road, this very road my feet were on was the same route my father walked. Asphalt now covered what was mainly a dirt highway then but this was the path he took. And I was on it. It is impossible to describe all the things that I felt on this part of the journey. I want to come back and walk the whole route! I am so thankful that I asked Steve about this. And so grateful he and Marcia were willing to accompany us to help navigate all the local transportation.

Steve’s dad was stationed on Corregidor which is why he and his wife are living there and helping to preserve the history. But his dad was also at O’Donnell and Cabanatuan, the two POW camps my father was in. (It was in conversation with Steve that I learned I had been taken to the wrong Camp O’Donnell monument.) They likely crossed paths sometime during those months and years! So it was really special to be able to visit with him and compare stories. We also got to “talk Minnesotan” so that was fun, too.

Steve and I talked about how amazing it was that our father’s were so positive. Steve’s dad, like mine, never said a bad thing about anybody. My dad always saw possibilities and always made things work. He was definitely a “glass half full guy.” So was Steve’s dad. How did this happen when these men suffered so much? Four years of their lives were stolen and filled with brutality and torture. But always they had a smile and always they were positive. We both agreed it was a combination of their faith, the choices they made, and the character they had developed. Some POW’s did not come out this way. I realize how much my dad influenced my outlook on life. Being around him made me a more positive person and a person who always sees possibilities—to a fault perhaps. I can be overly trusting and optimistic and, as a result, often disappointed. I remember dad saying, “don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.” This was in relation to hearing rumors or gossip or anything that put others in a bad light. Later a prominent theologian I read said, “assume the best of possible motives to others.” My dad taught me it first.

My dad was forged by war. Our family was, too. And much of what America was able to accomplish and become, I believe, is due to the character of these men who survived WWII and served their families and their country as well after the war as they did during the war. My dad was a serving man. He was a man who appreciated every day of life and every plate of food and every friend and acquaintance. He was amazing. Walking part of the Death March has taught me more about why he was this way.

On the ferry return to Manila, I sketched a picture of the 00 marker at Mariveles. As I drew, I cried. But I am so grateful for the time and resources to do this. I feel like I will be sketching and painting for the rest of my life.

I was only on the ground about 40 hours when Drew and I got back on an airplane to go to Reno, Nevada. My body did not want to, but my heart and mind were determined.

Just before I left for SE Asia I found out that there was a convention for the descendants of ex POW’s of Bataan and Corregidor in Reno April 6-11. I was hesitant knowing how very tired I would be from the travel and time change but was determined to take everything in that I could. So before I left I made reservations for us to attend. It seemed especially important since we are losing these veterans at a rate of 1500 a week. The youngest now in their late 80’s, they will not be with us for long.

For the last 60+ years the American Defenders of Bataan and Corregidor (ADBC) have held a convention. Many have already died and their wives have continued to attend the gatherings. But last May (2009) was their final convention. They recognized they could no longer do all the work required for such conventions and most can no longer travel. But the children of these stalwart Americans determined not to let their memory die. They created a new organization called the Descendants of American Defenders of Bataan and Corregidor (DADBC) and their first annual convention was last week. Those exPOW’s still able attended—about 60 of them.
It was quite an experience to be among so many WWII greats. Attending was Abie Abraham (96) the famous “Ghost of Bataan.” He has authored two books about his experiences and is the main character in the book by another author called, ‘The Ghosts of Bataan.” Abie was asked by General MacArthur to remain in the Philippines after the war was over to help find and identify all the remains of the soldiers who had not survived the war. His story is a heroic tragedy.
Also in attendance was Ben Steele, a famous WWII exPOW who made a career out of his tragic story. Ben was so sick that he was unable to walk and ended up in a prison camp “hospital” for almost six months. They were not hospitals. There was no medication and oten the only doctors were American POW’s who were also sick and starving. But prisoners unable to work for the Japanese were put away at designated prison wards to die. Ben did not die. In his isolation he began to draw. First, he drew in the dirt. Other prisoners mesmerized by his drawings began bringing him paper and pencils. Even some Japanese guards took interest and supplied him with paper and pencil on occasion. Over his several years he accumulated a significant number of drawings of the death march, the box cars, the camps, and the hellships. All the drawings are hauntingly real as they convey the visual and emotional world of the prisoners of war.
When Ben was finally liberated he had lost many of his drawings but had been able to hide and keep some. He came home and was encouraged to paint. Ben ended up going to art school and getting a degrees in art and art education and was a college art instructor for many years. His collection of WWII POW paintings has been on exhibit all over the country. I first learned of it from Fred and Patricia Cornelious who sent me photos of some of Ben’s pictures that were displayed at a library in Montana! What an amazing gift then for me to be able to actually meet Ben and visit with him and see some of his work in person at the DADBC Convention!

Ben was on the Bataan Death March and also at four other locations where my dad was: Camp o’Donnell, Camp Cabanatuan, the Hellship Noto Maru, and Bilibid Prison. Though he did not recognize my dad it is quite certain that they rubbed shoulders at some time. It is no surprise that Ben did not recognize my father. All these men were sick and starving, half their normal body weight and struggling just to survive. They had not time or energy for exchanging names or developing friendships. And in my reading and research I have learned that the Japanese made sure this was the case. They kept them in very small groups and intentionally separated any prisoners that looked or acted familiar with one another.

This was the case of another veteran I got to meet in Reno. Jorgy Jorgenson was at all the above places my father was but was also at the same labor camp—Hanawa, Sendai #6 in northern Japan. I was not able to visit with Jorgy as much but I got his email address and plan on corresponding with him. I was attracted to Ben as an artist. Jorgy was especially interesting to me because he has become one of the chaplains of the ADBC. He is very tender-hearted and still his voice breaks and tears come when he talks about his experiences as a POW. He did throw in some humor though. After the Japanese surrendered and abandoned the camps, the prisoners would wander into the countryside and nearby towns and steal food. Jorgy said it was difficult and troublesome so he robbed a bank and bought the food! Yes, this hero of a man, veteran of WWII, this chaplain, a member of the greatest generation admitted that he robbed a bank in order to have money to buy food rather than steal food and supplies.

Which brings me to my point of all this convention talk. These men were and are heroes. But they are human, too. They were not saints or angels. Another person I met at the convention was Adrian Martin. He is the nephew of an exPOW of Bataan who did not survive. Adrian has spent the last 20 years researching his uncle’s story and in the process has interviewed more than 200 ex POW’s. (An interesting side note: In my file of documents that my mother gave me related to my father’s story I have a letter dated April 1988 from one Adrian Martin asking if my father would be willing to be interviewed! He also enclosed in that letter a copy of the medical roster from Hanawa with my father’s name and condition listed and a roster of names of men at the camp! I had just recently tried to contact him from the address on the letter!)

In Martin’s book, Brothers From Bataan: POW’s, 1942-1945, he tells the less often told stories of WWII veterans. There are veterans who are not proud of what they did. Under the horrific conditions they endured both physical and mental some POW’s snapped and did things they do not want to remember. Some, filled with anger and resentment and bitterness took revenge when they had opportunity. Some did worse than rob banks. War is not neat. The rules of engagement are not always followed. Men have their limits.
No these men were not saints. We do them dishonor if we so glorify their sacrifice that we deny their humanity. But being with them, listening to their stories, hearing about their suffering is a lesson we all can benefit from. It was great to be with them for just a couple of days. The conference also held workshops on how to do research and I gained some great tools to continue the exploration of my own father’s story. He, too, was not a saint. He was just a man. But because of the love and grace and mercy of God he was a great man. And there are not many of these great men left. If you know one, make an appointment to sit and listen to their story. Next time you see one of these men take the time to stop and shake their hand and thank them for their service to this country and to YOU. They will not be around much longer. We are losing them and losing their stories unless we learn them and tell them to our children. Most of us do not know of their suffering because they suffered for us. Our freedom has been preserved at the cost of theirs. This is a large part of my sabbatical task—to learn my father’s story, to glean as much as I can from it, and to pass it on.

This was FPC’s second trip to Vietnam. The 2010 team visited most of the same places and did many of the same things as the 2007 team. But it was clear for me that a lot has changed since our 2007 trip.

There was more traffic and particularly more cars in Hanoi. There still are a lot of motorcycles. It is the primary form of transportation but Vietnam is developing and more cars are evidence of that growth. In fact, someone told me that according to one study Vietnam is the second fastest developing economy in the world. There are signs of prosperity everywhere. Condominiums and resorts are being built. Prices have gone up a little.

In Danang they were celebrating the 35th anniversary of the liberation of the city. The city was decorated beautifully and there was a parade of lighted boats on the Hanh River and an international fireworks competition drew millions on Saturday the 27th of March. The United States was one of the countries entered. There were new coffee shops everywhere and they were always busy.

But the most wonderful change was in my relationship with the leaders of the Danang Tin Lanh church. They were noticeable more involved with our visit. They hosted us for a meal the first Sunday we arrived but insisted on hosting us again the second Sunday and our final day in Danang. They were hospitable beyond anything we expected. And this is particularly noticeable because they are all men. They do not have female elders (executive deacons who are the decision making body of the church) let alone pastors. And the elders greeted me with the full respect and honor of a pastor. The first time I came Vinh’s father asked me to give a gretting during worship. This time Pastor Nguyen asked me to give a greeting the first Sunday and then to share a word from scripture the second Sunday!

The first time FPC came they did not go to dinner with us. This time they did and had some wonderful conversation with our team. It was especially noteworthy when they asked me about clapping in our church. I had told them that one of the songs we sang with them in worship that morning was so uplifting it made me want to dance. One of the elders asked if we clapped. (They do not.) I explained that we do sometimes but not all the time and that some people think it is appropriate and others don’t. Then the elder said, “Maybe the next time you come we will be clapping, too.” I was astounded. Later Vinh commented on how very unusual this was. Vinh believes that their interaction with the FPC team, and particularly with a female pastor is really affecting the way they think about worship and ministry.

The clapping and the female pastor discussion demonstrates that the elders and pastor are opening up to new ways of doing ministry all the while holding fast to the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The elders interacted with me more naturally and more as one church leader to another. Speaking of more natural and open, Vinh’s father, Rev. Sanh Nguyen really opened up. On our trip to Khe Sanh he was laughing and joking with us with the help of Vinh’s translation. At one point when we were visiting with some children, Pastor Nguyen took a sling shot from a young boy and pulled it back and pointed it right at me! It was wonderful to see his smile and his playful attitude. Our relationship has come a very long way. Such is the power of Christ at work. There is no Vietnamese or American, rich or poor, employee or employer, male or female but we are all one in Christ. (Gal 3:28)

For those of you who think the above title is a typo you are either older than 65 or younger than 35 and definitely not a music aficionado! Famous Beatles song, “Back in the USSR” always comes to mind after I have traveled abroad and return to the US. Call me strange, but many times routine things in life bring a song to my mind. On our recent trip to Vietnam Erica Yusten seemed to appreciate my musical commentary and Fred and Patricia Cornelious often got the connection. It was a fun part of a trip where we tried to sing through some of our adventures.

Whether I sing, talk, write or draw, my head is stuffed! It was a whirlwind trip so full of richness of experience that I don’t think a year off would be enough to glean all I can from it. I am back. At least my body is back. My mind and heart are still quite preoccupied with all that I saw and experienced the last six weeks. I am preoccupied partly because I am afraid that I will forget some of what I experienced before I have time to write and paint about it. In retrospect (hindsight is always better than foresight) I wish I had planned my schedule so that I had a day in between every couple of days to just reflect, write, and draw about what I had seen, heard and felt. As it was I stayed up very late many nights in order to find time to organize pictures and write blogs and emails. I did make some brief notes on all sorts of pieces of paper, napkins, receipts hoping I would find them when I returned home and they would help my memory. For every blog I have written there are another nine that I could have written. So, I am back, but in the coming days I will be posting more blogs related to my travels. So do not think you somehow got the blogs out of order. The chronological blogging has ended. From now my blogs will be about the experiences I had as they come to light as I organize photos and read my journal and begin painting.
I am back from my foreign travel but my sabbatical continues for another five weeks. I will continue to explore and tell the story of my father and how it impacted our family. I will continue to explore how my own personal and professional life has been shaped by this profound historical event. This story is now intricately intertwined with FPC’s story and I am committed to exploring my family story in such a way that it also helps me understand FPC’s story and lead the congregation more faithfully and creatively.
I am back but I have been changed by what I have experienced and what I am understanding about myself on a deeper level. I am asking the Lord to use this experience to help me be more like he wants me to be both as a person and as a pastor. Because God is the God of history as well as the future, careful reflection on the past always leads to seeing God at work in our stories and as a result also helps us be more attentive to how God is at work presently. God is writing the metastory and is able to weave each of our stories into his grander story if we allow him. Because of his limitless power and wisdom and mercy and love he can take tragic parts of our stories and bring good out of them. He can take whatever we have and whoever we are and bring meaning and significant to otherwise seemingly insignificant or hopeless circumstances.
I am back but I believe I am a more calm and focused person. The time away from all of the everyday demands of ministry have really allowed me to concentrate on the more important aspects of my call and my leadership strengths and weaknesses. Just under six weeks, 10 airports (26 different trips to those 10 airports), five countries and even more languages and the many people I have met and had conversations with have given me so many opportunities to reflect and evaluate my life and ministry. Listening to people can teach us a lot. Ministers and preachers don’t often have or take the time to listen. I am grateful for the opportunity.

I am back. Let the blogging continue!