Mourning and Joy

At the beginning of this year, I set as one of my goals the completion of the editing process on the book a friend of mine had written. I am glad to say that goal was met this summer, in July, to be exact, when my friend, Barbara J. Forsyth, published her book “Joy Comes in the Mourning.” That book is now available on my website, The Master’s Place, and from Amazon and from Barbara.

The book is based on Barbara’s continuing ministry to women who have or who are experiencing grief over a loss. In most cases, that loss involves the death of a loved one. But it may also involve a divorce, a loss of a job, an estrangement with a child or parent, or any other of a number of real life losses people experience. Barbara’s theme is that God wants to take our mourning and turn it into His joy. This is certainly a theme consistent with Biblical truth, and I appreciate the fact that Barbara is writing from her own experience when she says God can help us find joy even in the midst of mourning and suffering.

There is what I think is an interesting back story to my involvement in the editing of the book. Barbara was my friend 45 plus years ago, when we were both young people at the First Baptist Church of Lincoln Park, Michigan. However, we each went our separate ways, she to Taylor University in Upland, Indiana and me to Grand Rapids Baptist Seminary in Michigan. We lost contact with each other. She found her husband at Taylor; I found my wife at Grand Rapids.

I had no further contact with Barbara. Indeed, I did not know where she was, what her married name was, or even if she was alive. In fact, in the good life the Lord gave me with my wife and children, I didn’t even think about her for four decades.

So, how did I come to edit her book? That is the interesting story I would like to encourage you to read. You can read it by going to my website: http://www.blogger.com/goog_217296303

And while you are there, check out Barb’s book, and the other Christian books we feature in our Bookstore. And praise the Lord with me that one of my goals for 2011 has been accomplished, bringing me great joy.

The Importance of Bible Teaching In The Local Church

For about two years of my life I was a member of a United Methodist church in Lincoln Park, Michigan. After I came to personal faith in Jesus Christ, something that happened outside the Methodist Church, I began to grow less and less appreciative of the church. Why? It seemed to me that no matter what the church taught, it was based more on official church positions than on what the Bible actually said. The pastor quoted the Bible in his messages, but he did not explain or proclaim the Bible texts. He simply quoted a verse here or there that seemed to support his message for the day.

This is the sole reason why I went down the street to the First Baptist Church of Lincoln Park, Michigan where for the next five years I sat under the ministry of one of the most godly men I have ever known. He didn't just quote the Bible, he taught it. He didn't tell us what he thought, or what the church thought. He taught us what God said in His Word.

For several weeks I attended the Methodist church in the morning, and the Baptist church in the evening. It didn't take long for me to be convinced I was getting better and more accurate Bible teaching at the Baptist Church.

Before joining the Baptist church, I went and talked with the pastor of the Methodist church and told him what I planned to do and why. His response was that I should stay in the Methodist church and "reform" it. Reformation. Didn't someone named Martin already try that?

The Baptist pastor had a much more encouraging message for me when I talked with him. He said I should go where the Lord led me, and that I should be in a church that will teach me faithfully what God says in His Word.

So, in May, 1960, at the age of19, I joined the First Baptist Church, a decision I have never regretted.

I am absolutely convinced that there are believers in many different denominations. When I taught at a Christian school, I had many students who represented a variety of denominational affiliations. They evidenced a deep and lasting love for Jesus Christ. Some of them are now my Facebook friends, and I love reading what they are doing to serve the Lord and how He is blessing them in their walk with him.

Now, don't accuse me of being a hater of Methodists; I am not. I have known Methodists who loved the Lord and tried, as I do, to serve Him. But in my judgment, after fifty plus years of studying the Bible, teaching it, and applying its principles to my personal life, I still a need a church that teaches me what God says in His Word, not one that tells me what the official positions of the church are, whether they are church law (which does not exist Biblically), or recommendations from some central committee. I really do not care what label is over the door of the local church. But I do care about how deep, how accurate, and how consistent is the Bible teaching that I receive once I am inside the door.

Leaving God Out of His Own Story

In the book of Esther, it has been often noted, the name of God does not appear in any verse. None. Yet, as it has also been pointed out, God is everywhere in that book.

As I have reread portions of This Little Life of Mine an autobiographical series of articles published on my website, I have noted that sometimes I have a tendency to leave God out of the narrative, even though I have proclaimed from the beginning that I want this to be a record of the things God has done in my life. I have stated that I do not want this to be about me, but I want it to be, as it should be, about God. Each chapter should be about what God did, not about what I did.

Chalk it up to human nature, the sinful human nature that I possess. That is why I tend to focus on me and not on God. But in this article, I want to focus on God especially. Even though I have sometimes neglected Him in this narrative, the truth is, He has been everywhere in this narrative.

There really is nothing in this narrative that I decided all by myself without the influence of God through His Word or through His Spirit or both. Nothing. Most if not all of the major decisions recorded here were beyond my ability to decide.

Take, for instance, my birth in Canada in 1941. I had no say in when or where I would be born. I had no choice as to who my parents might be. These necessary decisions were not made by me, certainly. Then, who made them? My parents? Not really. Yes, they lived in Canada when I was born, but they did not know prior to my birth that it was me they were bringing into the world. They did not choose me to be their son. They did what was necessary to bring a child into the world, but they did not choose who that child might be. Who did make this choice? The only one who could make that choice is God. And I believe it was His will that I be born in Windsor, Ontario, Canada to Whelan and Edna Parsons on June 5, 1941.

The circumstances of my childhood were also not circumstances over which I had much control. The house we lived in, the food we ate, the relative safety of my Windsor home as compared to the homes of others in, say, Germany, or England, or Japan during those war years, were all circumstances neither I nor my parents could ultimately control. Who did control these various elements? God did. I believe the things I experienced as a child in Windsor during World War II were all things it was God's will that I experience. Even the unpleasant things.

Words were fascinating to me, as I revealed in my book, Windsor's Child. Why? Other children were exposed to the same lessons I had in school, read the same books I read, and learned the same words I did. Why did I develop such a love for words? No doubt my parents, especially my mother who also loved words, and some of my teachers influenced me in this, but ultimately it is God who put me in the place I needed to be to learn what I did, and who put within me the response I had to words. I believe it was God's will that I learn to love words and what could be done with them.

In 1951, my parents decided to move from Windsor to Lincoln Park, a suburb of Detroit, Michigan. The move did not involve much distance. We crossed the Ambassador Bridge and drove about six or seven miles to our new home. Yet, in spite of that short distance, I had moved to a different country. Was that just my parents' choice? No, not entirely, because there were factors beyond their control that led them to make that decision. My brother's death at the age of 21 in Windsor, my dad's birth in Detroit as well as his work there, changes in economic factors that reduced the value of his American paycheck in Canadian stores; all of these influenced their decision. But who influenced all these circumstances? God did. I believe it was God's will for me to move to the United States at the age of ten.

You are not going to read in this item that I believe God brought me to this country because it was a land of greater opportunity, or because it was a free country and I was escaping tyranny. This is Canada we are talking about, a land every bit as freedom loving as the USA, and a country that provides more than ample opportunities for its citizens to succeed at whatever they choose to do. God did not bring me here to escape anything or to have a greater opportunity to do anything. The fact is, I do not really know all of why God brought me here at the age of ten. But I am firmly convinced it was His will to do so.

The Christian influences in my life - my mother, a little Baptist church at the end of our street in Windsor, some friends in high school, a girl I had a crush on in high school, things I read, including the Bible - all of these gradually worked on me to get me to the place where, in October of 1958, I established a faith relationship with Jesus Christ that changed my life more than any other decision I have ever made. Although each of the influences listed here played a part, there is no way any group of sinners could have worked together to orchestrate my coming to faith in Christ. If it were to happen, and it did, then God had to do it. I believe it was God's will that I come to faith in Christ at the age of 17 while a student at Lincoln Park High School.

It was my dad's choice that took me to a mainstream protestant church in Lincoln Park. I joined it with him before I came to Christ. After I established my faith relationship with Jesus, I found the church I attended did not preach the gospel or teach the Bible correctly. God led me to First Baptist Church of Lincoln Park where for five years I sat under the teaching of one of the godliest men I have ever known, Dr. Charles R. MacDonald. It was Dr. Mac who taught me the Word of God during those five years and it was Dr. Mac who encouraged me to consider the ministry for my life's work. But it was God who led Dr. Mac to Lincoln Park at that time, and it was God who led me to that church at that time. I believe it was God's will that I sit under Dr. Mac's ministry for those five years.

There were some very dear friends I made while at FBC. Some of them are still friends (via Internet) today. God used them to help shape me into the person He wanted me to be. I believe it was God's will for me to form those friendships with Gary, Jim, Dan, Dave, Anne, Dorothy, Helen, Barb and others whom God used greatly in my life then.

As a young man, I had a series of crushes on a series of young ladies. I really wanted to meet the girl I would spend my life with. God did not put that girl in Lincoln Park. But the girls I did date and enjoyed being with all were used of God to help me grow as a believer. I believe it was God's will that I experience those temporary relationships to help me be prepared for the real relationship when it finally came. I also am convinced it was God who kept me pure for the girl He did give me.

God took me to Grand Rapids, Michigan. God took Linda Hubble to Grand Rapids, Michigan. There He arranged for us to meet and to fall in love. There He helped us arrange our wedding. I believe it was God's will that Linda and I stand before Pastor Norm Hoag on December 28, 1968 in the First Baptist Church of Beech Grove, Indiana and establish a Christian home for His glory.

It was there in Grand Rapids that we met Pastor Jack Bowen and his wife who invited me to go to Flint to serve as his assistant prior to his retirement. I know it was Pastor Bowen's will that I succeed him as pastor there (he told me that was his desire). But I know it was not God's will. However, I believe God took Linda and me to Flint to learn, to grow, to serve and to enjoy his people there.

And, although I don't know all the reasons, I even believe it was God's will that Linda and I have a cat named Nikki and a dog named Laddie instead of children as we did in 1972. Children came later, according to His timing.

So, as you continue to read, if I get caught up in the narration of things that happened, and I forget to mention that God was the only one in full control of everything, please understand this one truth about my life and this narration, the same truth that I mentioned at the beginning, about the book of Esther.

In this narration, God is everywhere, even when He is not given His full and rightful place at the center of my life. The failure is never His, but always mine.

West 2008: Tuesday, July 15, 2008

We got up early on this first day of our incredible journey and did the final packing of the Rav 4 for the trip. We had decided to pack our clothing into a footlocker which I purchased in 1965 when I left home to go to seminary in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The plan was to take a small suitcase into which we could place the clothes needed for the next day. This way we would not have to carry giant suitcases into motels each night and out again in the morning. The footlocker would stay in the car for the whole trip. This worked very nicely for us, although it was sometimes a struggle to get to the footlocker with all the other stuff that tended to get placed on top of it during our travels.

We also purchased a 12 volt cooler prior to the trip. Our Rav 4 had a conveniently located 12 volt receptacle in the back luggage area. We also purchased an AC to DC converter so we could plug the cooler into an AC outlet at a motel each night. The cooler would carry water, soft drinks and milk and other supplies so we would not have to purchase meals all the time on the trip. This also worked out nicely, although after several days of being churned by the vibrations of driving, the milk began to turn to cottage cheese!

Our goal for this first day was Oglesby, Illinois, the small town in which we lived for twenty-one years when I served as the pastor of the First Baptist Church there. Our accommodations for the first night were to be in the home of friends from the church. Joe and Roseann Rossi had welcomed our request for spending the night with them.

This first day took us across familiar territory. Ohio. Indiana. Illinois, via I-70 and 74. How many times had we driven from Oglesby to Indianapolis as our kids were growing up to visit Linda’s parents who lived there? And how many times after we moved to Ohio had we made the trip from Columbus to Indianapolis for the same purpose?

On the way to Oglesby, we visited a place we had visited before when our children were still living at home. The Lake of the Woods park, located along I-70 in eastern Illinois, was our first picture stop. Green grass on gentle slopes against a clear blue sky provided fodder for my ever present cameras as I photographed scenes I am certain I photographed before.
We drove nearly 400 miles on this first day, experiencing our first time change and arriving in Oglesby at about 3:00 in the afternoon, Central Time.

The Rossis were involved with Vacation Bible School at the church, so we joined them for the evening’s activities. After, we returned to their home and were joined by other old friends Ron and Jan Unzicker. Old friends are a blessing from God. They remind us of earlier times when we encouraged each other and taught each other and grew together in the Lord.

The evening’s visiting ended all too soon. The Unzickers had to go home as Ron had to get up early to get to work the next morning. Roseann faced the same prospect for the next day. Joe, like me, was retired. Once again, as we had done so many times before, we slept in the little town in north central Illinois named after an early governor of the state. And once again we felt the quietness and simplicity of small town life.

The covered bridge is in Lake of the Woods Park near Mahomet, Illinois