Blogging Our Furlough

Hey, I'm not going to let you make an ape out of me! But at least it wasn't a drunken monkey form!

Still doing my wing chun along with the Fukien Shaolin which is the base for our style.

Thanks, brother. It was a huge surprise, and the best part was that it came from friends and not some politically minded martial arts organization.

 

This past Saturday I very reluctantly flew out to CA for a meeting in just one church, the First Spanish Baptist Church of a major city there. We hadn't been there for a couple of furloughs, so I felt obligated. But I complained to Patty about it. It seemed I just could not get replies from the pastor for the details of the trip. And it was going to be four airports and three airplanes in one day to get from SC to CA.

How did we get a supporting church way out there, just one of them, you may rightly ask. On our last deputation trip in 1981 we decided to just head out for the West Coast, hoping to get enough supporting churches on the way to get permission from the board to fly out. In the process we preached in five churches in CA including a Chinese Bible Church and this Spanish speaking one. This was the last church to take us on for support before we left for Japan.

I arrived at the airport to a small comedy of errors in which I went to the wrong place for my luggage, then kept going in and out the wrong door to find Pastor Castaneda. Finally we connected when he told me by cell phone that he was on a cane. And my education began.

Pastor Castaneda had a stroke a little over a year ago, and was still trying to recover. That explains his poor communication. He was actually doing his best, and I was complaining about it! He and Mrs. Castaneda and the church people were so gracious, taking me out to eat, putting me up at a nice motel, paying for the entire trip (something else I was worried about).

I spoke in their SS and then the evening service, where I showed my PowerPoint and then took questions for a long time. The people asked great questions and listened so carefully in spite of the fact that English was the second language of most of them. Afterwards several came up and told how they had been reading our prayer letters and praying for us. They asked how our grown son was doing and other intelligent questions.

On the way back on Monday night (overnight, again four airports and three planes), I had to admit that this was one of our best meetings this furlough. I had to ask God's forgiveness for complaining and pre-judging. Thank God for faithful believers who love world missions and delight to pray for and support us missionaries around the world!

Oh and by the way, they love the fact that tako in Japanese means "octopus!"

 

Can't order that at Taco Bell! :tongue3:

 

Sunday was quite a time, perhaps the most unusual Father's Day I ever had! It wasn't my wife or son. They are always so sweet on Father's Day. Patty got me a DVD I'd been wanting to see, and Paul bought me D. A. Carson's excellent book about his father, Memoirs of an Ordinary Pastor. If you are a pastor, by all means read this encouraging book (which has 23 5 star recommendations and one 4 star recommendation on Amazon!).

It all started the Tuesday before when I sent an email confirming our Sunday morning meeting and asking for a place to stay Saturday night. I never heard back from the pastor, which was strange. On Saturday I called the church several times, but got no answer. Well, we hit the road and arrived, but no one was there and there were no notes on the door of the church building. Nothing daunting, we got a motel room for the night.

Sunday morning we showed up at the church, only to find that the pastor was out of town and no one, including the assistant pastor, knew we were coming! Not only that, a young evangelist was the preacher they had lined up for the service. Nevertheless, they let us put up our display, and the retired pastor, an old friend, kindly insisted I take his Sunday School class.

Well, afterwards we were invited out to eat with the retired pastor, assistant pastor and some of the believers. After a wonderful time and various apologies, we headed out. Oh, did I mention that all the fathers at that church got a nice fishing lure as their Father's Day present?

That evening we arrived at our second meeting of the day to gladly learn that we were expected. Everything went fine: we talked with the pastor, set up our display and talked with the believers, including the daughter and son-in-law of former missionaries to Japan, friends of ours. Then we sat down and the service started.

When it came time for our PowerPoint presentation things went well again. Our day was looking up. Then, just before it was time for me to preach, I felt something sharp poke me in the arm. I looked, and that fishing lure had poked its way through the envelope it was in, through my sports coat pocket, and had hooked the arm of my suit! I had caught myself.

I took the suit off and tried to fix the problem, but couldn't. Patty tried, but I still had my coat off when it was time to preach. There was nothing for it but to go to the pulpit and explain. "Jesus said to follow Him and He will make you a fisher of men, but I just caught myself!" Got a good laugh on that one. But God blessed the message and many promised to witness to someone they knew who is hard to love.

Later in the week I got an email from the pastor of the church we were at in the morning. with a humbly apology. He said he had never done that before. But it all turned out well, so as Shakespeare said, "All's well that ends well."

 

Hi, Rhet. Nice to hear from you. We'll be in Chattanooga on July 22. I'd love to meet you in person if possible.

 

This week we said goodbye to our only child, Paul, for the last time for up to three years. Leaving loved ones and friends for years at a time is the most difficult thing about being a missionary. Last furlough, we were based in the same town as our son, and that was a great blessing. This furlough we've had some blessed and fun times with him too, though we are based several hours away.

Fortunately, we can praise the Lord that our son at age 32 is saved, serving God faithfully in his church, and seeking God's will about his profession. As John said, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth" (3 John 4).

Paul is finishing up his Ph. D. in New Testament Greek at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary under noted Greek prof Dr. David Alan Black, and acting as grader for the Greek classes of noted textual critic Dr. Maurice Robinson. It's been great to get to know these men, and see our son turn into a genuine scholar with three published journal articles.

We've discussed theology, gone miniature golfing, discussed linguistics, watched movies, discussed translation theory, eaten out together and had many other blessed times. Paul and I also had a great time writing essays for a festschrift (a book of essays honoring a scholar), and that was loads of fun. (More about that when the book is published.)

Paul is looking for a teaching position at a fundamental college or seminary somewhere, but positions are scarce right now due to the poor economy. He's also praying about a wife.... Anyone know a good prospect? raying:

Unless we take an unforeseen trip back to the States or Paul can scrape up the money for a trip to Japan, it will be awhile before we see our son again. See you in a few more years, Paul.

 

Paul's living in Raleigh nowadays. It was non-judo this time. :laugh: Usually he and I end up sparring at some time or other, often into groundwork, but for some reason this visit ended without violence.

 

Patty and I understand something of what Paul the Missionary meant when he said he had "no certain dwelling place." We are currently homeless, staying in a Ramada Inn in Murfreesboro, TN. Our furlough replacement missionaries just returned from the field a few weeks early so they did not have to pay an outrageous price for plane tickets, since August is vacation time in Japan. But I have to admit, this Ramada Inn is much more luxurious than anything Paul ever stayed in, though it is a little run down.

Next week will be better, since we will be enjoying Family Week at the Bill Rice Ranch, thanks to the kind invitation of my Mother's cousin, Bill Rice III. This will be the first time in many years we've stayed a whole Week at the Ranch, though we stop in every furlough to visit the Memorial Garden where many relatives, including my parents and grandparents, are buried. I grew up going to the BRR. It will be interesting to see how it has changed.

So I probably won't be posting for a week. In the meantime, I've been wanting to share our plague story with you.

We have some wonderful friends in Illinois. Deb is a nurse practitioner, Patty's dear friend who visits her in Japan every year. Her husband Randy is a state's attorney (DA), and a very interesting guy to be around. Earlier in the year we visited them and unfortunately, all four of us had a vicious 24 hour flu bug, one right after the other. I won't share the gross details, but you can imagine.

Well, recently we visited them again for the express purpose of going to a Cubs game together. Randy's a Cubs fan and I love baseball, so we drove down into Chicago where we had a fun time at Wrigley. That's a great stadium, let me tell you! We had wonderful seats, and Randy was particularly happy since the Cubs won, and he got to see that "W" for "win" flag go up. To add to the fun, someone committed a murder in his town, so he had to be on the phone a few times directing the investigation. Afterwards we ate at a great Italian restaurant, then went home happy.

The next morning we got to take a ride in Randy's Model A, of which he is only the second owner, having bought it when he was just a teen from an old German man. Randy has several more pre-WW2 cars he's rebuilding, so it's always fun to see what he's done lately.

Later that day, we had just set out to drive to our next furlough meeting when Patty hollered, "John, look at our windshield!" Something had cracked it badly! Furthermore, there were dents all over the car! We correctly surmised that there had been a hail storm, which was later confirmed by our insurance people. (I highly recommend State Farm.) The hailstones were actually baseball sized!

So here we are at the end of our furlough, having to get the car repaired from a plague. Hmm. Maybe we should avoid Randy and Deb's house. Seems like we get hit by a plague every time we go there! Well, Deb is planning a trip to Japan next Feb., so we'll try to avoid Japanese plagues for her sake.

 

Wow, hail came through the roof of his Mustang? That was definitely his time to go.

We're all settled in at the ranch. Went to church today and saw my 2nd cousin Betty and her husband Don. Betty is deaf, and she is what inspired her father Bill Rice to start the Bill Rice Ranch, now one of the largest deaf ministries in the world (and one of the first). Don and Betty are working at a Christian school in Korea.

 

Last week was spent at the 2nd Family Week of the Bill Rice Ranch in Murfreesboro, TN, at the gracious invitation of my Mom's cousin Bill Rice III, and my second cousin Wil Rice IV. The BRR is possibly the oldest organized deaf ministry in the world. When my Great Uncle Bill Rice started the camp in 1953, there were only two individuals in the US doing ministries to the deaf. Over the years many thousands of deaf people have been saved, and hundreds of deaf church ministries have been founded around the world. Furthermore, Great Aunt Cathy wrote a sign language textbook that is widely used to this day.

The ministry was founded because of Bill Rice's deaf daughter Betty. It was good to see her and her husband Dr. Don Cabbage, back for the summer from Korea where he is the Development Director at Korea International Christian School.

The preaching was a blessing, it was nice to see old friends and meet new ones, and we had a great time playing miniature golf, going on the early morning horse ride and cookout and watching the rodeo and other entertainment.

Best of all was the memories from going there as I grew up. I remembered fishing in the lake, learning to swim in the pool and seeing Dad's famous belly flop, riding the horses, the cowboy shootout skits, seeing Bill Rice carry a holstered six gun all around, and shooting out the light to make a point during the service, eating buffalo meat, "cowboy coffee" (you know it's done when a horse shoe will float in it).

In one of those skits in the old days, there was a shootout, with the bad guy escaping and swimming across the lake to gallop off on his horse. However, the cowhands didn't plan that one very well. The bad guy had a rough time swimming across the lake with blue jeans, cowboy boots and a heavy six gun. Halfway across the good guys ran out of blanks, and the bad guy ran out of energy. So the rest of the skit was the good guys cheering the bad guy across the rest of the lake and trying to climb on his horse!

Most of all I remember the old tin roofed open air tabernacle. One service there when John R. Rice was the preacher was interrupted by a heavy rain. When rain fell on that tin roof you couldn't hear yourself sneeze! John R. shouted out, "Let's pray that the rain will stop so you can hear the message." When he did so, the rain immediately stopped. And when the service was over, the rain started right up again! That incident made a huge impact about answered prayer on a little boy and many others.

On the campgrounds are an Indian battlefield and graveyard. There is also a more recent graveyard, the Bill Rice Ranch Memorial Park. This was made especially for the Bill Rice and John R. Rice families, as well as workers at the BRR who have been there more than seven years, and a few of the old time Sword of the Lord workers.

Patty and I walked up the center walk to the three mausoleums of the three Rice brothers, all evangelists, and two of the wives (Aunt Cathy is still alive): Great Uncle Bill, Great Uncle Joe and Grandpa John R. My parents are both buried there now, since Mom went to Heaven last October after we arrived back on furlough. Someday if the Lord tarries, Patty and I hope to be buried there with our loved ones. Not soon, I trust. We're waiting for Jesus!

 

P. S. The John R. Rice home (about 1964 to their deaths) is also on the BRR where it was moved after Grandma Rice died in 1989 and made into the John R. Rice Museum. I spent many happy hours there. If you visit the BRR you can take a tour of the house, an unpretentious three bedroom ranch style home. It is unlike the fancy houses of most TV evangelists. John R. Rice sold millions of his books, but all that money was put back into the ministry. He used to say, "Millions of dollars have passed through these hands, but praise God, none of it stuck!" If you take Franklin Road out of town headed west, you come to John Rice Blvd, running parallel with I-24. Sam's Club there is approximately where the house originally stood on 45 acres of an old, played out farm, which Granddad bought for a pittance because it was prior to I-24 being built.

My brother has put together a virtual museum of the John R. Rice house here: http://tuppers.com/johnrice/.

The BRR Memorial Park and the John R. and Lloys Rice grave can be seen here: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=89439150

 

We leave this afternoon to visit my brother in Seattle, after which we fly out on Air Canada for Japan on Thursday. On Sunday I'll preach at Yokosuka Baptist Church, a work serving the U. S. military from the Yokosuka Naval Base (pronounced "Yohcooska" by the Americans).

After we get to Japan I'll finish this blog up. I still have a couple of stories, like my Alabama story about hole fishin'. :smilewinkgrin: So stay tuned.

 

Thanks for the prayers, brother.

We saw Don and Betty at church and then at the BRR. Concurrent with the Family Week was a deaf week for adults. We sat with Don and Betty in a deaf service and then at the deaf meal and had a great time of fellowship. They are currently doing Christian education in Korea.

 

Well, we're safely back in Japan. In the near future I'll wrap up this blog with a final report about mileage, churches visited, and getting back to Japan. In the meantime, as promised, here is my Alabama story.

We have a couple of supporting churches in Alabama, and it certainly is the deep South! In one of our churches they're very zealous for us, their missionaries. One lady we've known for a long time led the charge to get the last pastor fired when he tried to stop supporting the missionaries and use the money for himself! But I digress. In that church, the woman's son is a wonderful story teller. (Note: for the second part of the story you have to realize how important coon hunting is in Alabama. On the road we actually passed signs pointing to the "Coon Dog Cemetery.") Here goes.

"I wuz sittin' on the porch of the store, lookin' out at the crick (creek for you Yankees). There wuz a man and his two sons down there hole fishin'. (Yankees--this is where you dig a hole in the bank, wait awhile, then stick your hand in to catch a fish.) Well, one of them sons reached his hand in, then pulled it out and hollered, 'Pa, a snake done bit me!'"

"Sure enough, there was a moccasin wrapped around the boy's arm. Well, they killed that snake dead, then the Pa got to work on the boy. He cut across them fang marks, then went to suckin' out the poisin. After that he guv the boy some whiskey for the pain. Then he got him a shotgun shell, opened 'er up, and poured that powder on the snake bite. Then he lit 'er off to cauterize that wound!"

"Wal the boy was all right. But the next week we wuz sittin' on that porch again when the boy came up real slow. We noticed there wuz scratches and cuts all over him! 'Whut happened to you?' we said. And the boy answered, 'Wal, I caught me a coon, and wuz goin' to use him to train my coon dog. But that there coon got the better of me!'"

Sure is fun being a missionary. You meet so many great people!