Author Archives: Senti

      Here is the last part of the prologue for my book, “A Bride for Jeshona” which you can access for a donation of any amount at www.envisionmission.org/media – just scroll down past the sermons and follow the same instructions as you would do donate and receive a code for any of the music on that page:

     He snarled and growled, but there were no words to express his anger.

     Then a single word came to his mind. “Defeat.” He refused it. “No, curse you! I hate you! I will not be defeated! I have nothing but hatred for you! Nothing but hatred!” He began to thrash at the air around him. He screamed in terrible anger and kept screaming wildly without ceasing. Then he began to lash out at everything around him. It was a chaotic dance like that of a rabid beast. He beat his fists against the walls blindly trying to kill whatever it was that had overtaken him. His fists started to bleed and his hands became bruised, so he began to kick his throne relentlessly until it fell to the floor.

      Then he stopped. He was about to cry helplessly, but restrained himself. Never. I refuse to lower myself to weakness. He calmed himself and focused his thoughts. What are you doing? Will you cry for help? Will you weep like a little child for its mother? “No!” he screamed. “I am Leviathan! I will not yield! My armies may be defeated, but I am still alive.” He began to speak in a devious whisper, his voice rising and falling as he paced about the room, clinching his fists with determination. “Gadlon cannot defeat me as long as I am alive. He has won this battle, but he has not won me! I am greater than he. No one, not even my teacher, can destroy me. I have surpassed him. The student surpasses his teacher! Yes, and I will destroy him.”

      He spoke madly as if someone else was there with him. “Ah, but I have lost my place in the kingdom. Gadlon will never forgive me…but what does it matter?! Adora will always be Gadlon’s kingdom, not mine. I have no place with him.

      “So I must retreat to the lowly region of Kosmon? To that desolate wasteland where only peasants and nomads dwell? Shall I lose my seat at the palace in Adora only to gain a throne over a desert wasteland full of common fools and criminals?” He smiled to himself. “If this is my lot then I shall take it and I will make it prosper in my hands.” His eyes grew wider. “I will build up a new army, apart from Gadlon. I will suck every resource out of the land and make it grow a thousand times over. I shall have my throne and attack Gadlon’s kingdom when my forces are strong again. I will have my victory! No one, not even Gadlon, can take it from me.”

      He clenched his dagger and pulled it from its sheath. As if it were the very weapon that would bring him his victory, he raised the dagger before his eyes. Then he nodded his head, fully assured. “They will know the name, Leviathan, from the least of them to the greatest. Even if my army is defeated in battle, the battle itself will be my victory, the very pleasure of it. I will summon my power from the depths if I must!” He laughed.

      The sound of horses’ hooves beating the earth from a great distance away caught the king’s attention. He knew it was his troops coming in from the battle. Upon hearing it, Leviathan quickly stormed out of his chamber. He ran down the hallway, through the next door and into one of the outside portals of the castle. There his eyes found one of his subjects, a girl, curled up in a naked corner of the room, weeping.

      “Servant!”

      The girl quickly found her composure at the sound of her lord’s voice. She stood up to face him, trembling in fear.

      “Stop your pathetic crying and go tell the kitchen servants to prepare dinner. Tell them that I will provide the meat.” He glanced down at the dagger he was holding and then back at the door from which he came. “I shall have the meat ready in about an hour.” He turned back to the servant. “Then we will eat. And we must pack our things quickly! After supper we must leave this place and go beyond the forest of Abussos to Kosmon. Do you understand me?!”

      “Yes, my lord,” she managed.

      “Then go you little wretch!”

      She fled quickly to do her master’s will.

      Leviathan smiled deviously. He turned and began walking back toward his chamber, still carrying his dagger in hand and licking his teeth anxiously.

     Here is the 2nd part of the Prologue from my book, “A Bride for Jeshona” entitled, “In Leviathan’s Chamber”:  

     He could feel his heart beating and soon became aware of every part of his body: his breathing, a slight pain at his shoulders and back, his feet, legs, chest, head, and even the tips of his fingers. He swallowed, his mouth dry, his lips chapped. The air felt stale, humid and cold. It smelled musty. The back of his neck itched a little. He shook his head and chose to ignore all sensations.

      Then he set his mind on the task before him: to open the door. His armpits and forehead dripped with moisture. He tried desperately to suppress his nervous fear. After taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand to the shaft and pulled it to the side. It made a deep clanking sound that broke his attempt at silence. Now he knew that Leviathan was aware of his presence. The king had most certainly heard him unlatch the door and knew that someone was there. There was no turning back, no room for cowardice or trying to escape. Leviathan punished cowards more harshly than the bearers of bad news.

      So Ultuvar accepted the inevitable and channeled his fear into an angry rage. He surrendered himself to his destiny. His thoughts turned back to the battle and the detestable taste of defeat. Losing himself in anger, he pounded his arm against the door, flinging it open.

      Before his eyes could see anything in the room he screamed horribly. The scream scraped the inside of his throat so harshly it sounded as if blood would follow behind it. Then his eyes madly searched the room until they found the figure of the king, Leviathan, standing in the shadows next to his throne with his face to the wall, unmoved by Ultuvar’s abrupt entrance.

      Ultuvar’s fear tried to creep up on him again, but he shook it off with his anger and roared out his message. “Our armies are broken and retreating! The battle is lost!”

      Leviathan remained silent, still facing the wall. He wore a long black robe and tightly fitted boots. As he stood there, he seemed lost in contemplation, his arms crossed in front of him. The room was quiet, dark, and very empty.

      Ultuvar frowned. He thought that maybe Leviathan had not heard him. “My lord, the battle is lost.” He spoke again as if trying to wake the King from sleep: “We are defeated!”

      Leviathan slowly turned his head back toward Ultuvar. When his eyes caught sight of his messenger he slightly tilted his body in a smooth motion like that of a snake. His eyes were dark like the hair on his head and like his facial hair, which he kept trimmed to a goatee. He peered deeply into the Ultuvar’s eyes as if piercing him with a sword. The king’s expression changed from a blank stare to a frown that curled up his lips.

      His entire body suddenly tensed up so that the veins in his neck became visible. Like a ferocious beast about to strike its prey his body was still. Then he began to breathe heavily, his chest heaving upward as he inhaled air. His hands curled in to the form of claws and his teeth showed like fangs. Every muscle in his face tightened furiously. The rage in Leviathan’s heart was building itself up like a dam about to burst and he held it back as long as he could.

      Then he screamed. His whole body shook ferociously and the room seemed to shake with him. Leviathan’s shriek thundered far more powerfully than his subject’s previous shrill.

      Ultuvar’s body froze, his eyes wide open. When the scream had ceased the terror returned to his heart in full force. He began to tremble and his voice weakened to a breathless whimper. “We must retreat to Kosmon, my lord, in the lower kingdom. If you remain here Gadlon’s forces will find you and you will surely be killed. Come away, my lord, for the sake of your life! Let us make haste!”

      “Death to you! Pathetic creature! You dare to command me?! What are you to me?! Do you delight in this?! Are you eager to retreat in disgrace?! Death to you!”

      Ultuvar lifted his hands in protest. “No, my lord, I only…”

      But before he could finish his sentence, Leviathan quickly pulled a long dagger from his belt and stuck it into Ultuvar’s stomach. Ultuvar’s body jolted at the sudden blow. His jaw dropped open and he shuddered, staring at his master in disbelief. Leviathan then wrenched the dagger out of Ultuvar’s innards, letting him fall to the floor in agony. On his knees Ultuvar desperately held his stomach with his hands. In horror and amazement he stared at the floor, his own death staring back at him. He writhed and groaned in pain, falling down head first while King Leviathan stood by with a smile. Ultuvar finally gave up fighting for his breath and died there like a dog.

      Leviathan looked up, now ignoring his victim, and resumed his thoughts. He paced around the room, walking over the dead body when necessary. No words came to his mind, only a quiet rage, that itself and nothing else. It consumed him.

Next time part 3…

Here is Part 1 of the Prologue to my book, “A Bride for Jeshona” which is available on our media page.  Just scroll down past the sermons and if you make a donation of any amount, check that you want to be on the mailing list and we will send you a code so you can access the book.  If you can’t afford it just e-mail me through the website and we’ll send you a code for free.  Please enjoy and let me know what you think: 

     The door to the hallway was a giant door with a bronze frame around four planks of thick wood.  Ultuvar opened the door, staggered through and slammed it behind him. The sound echoed fiercely through the castle walls. It startled Ultuvar so, that he froze up at the sound of it and then shuttered as if a lion had just roared at him from close behind. A tingling sensation shot up his spine causing him to tremble. He sighed and then was able to walk forward again.

      His breathing was a heavy whistle from worn out lungs. He had been running many miles from a fierce battle. The half-dress of armor he wore appeared too large for his small body. He knew that nothing good awaited him, being the bearer of the news of defeat. And no one could have been more appropriate for the task. He was a tiny man, pathetic, with his shoulders crouched over and a timid, sniveling face, more like a weasel than a man.  Fear moved him forward. To preserve himself he would flatter his king and obey his commands, but only to survive. For that was his instinct. And now little Ultuvar was peering down this long terrible hallway in his king’s own castle. He did not wish to go forward, but he knew that he must. A single torch hung on the right side of the wall about twenty feet into the hallway. There were no decorations, just black stone walls with cobwebs strewn here and there. It was dark and fusty and at its end was another dreadful door. Ultuvar had walked the hallway many times, but never grew used to it. It led to Leviathan’s chamber.

      Leviathan, the self-proclaimed “King of all kings” – a very frightening man to Ultuvar, but so very persuasive.

      “Such a leader, such a great King.” Ultuvar always said such things with as much sincerity as there was fear in his heart. Indeed, for his part, he genuinely esteemed his king, but often despaired and even at times attempted suicide while he was under Leviathan’s command. But always Leviathan warmly and coldly expressed how much he “needed” Ultuvar’s talents and services. This convinced Ultuvar to adhere to his duties again.

      But this time Ultuvar did not have hope of any such persuasion from his King. He only hoped for an inkling of mercy from some ulterior motivation in Leviathan’s ugly heart.  He stepped forward. Each step seemed to pound the floor as a hammer against an iron pot and its echo did not stop, no matter how much Ultuvar cursed it.  He softened his steps like a robber trying not to wake up the houses’ inhabitants, as if by Leviathan not hearing his approach Ultuvar could somehow disqualify himself from entering through that terrible door.

     Walking past the torch on the right side of the wall, he dragged himself slowly forward.

      His shadow seemed to creep up on him from the wall and then loomed over him as if it was laughing with cruel pleasure at what awaited him beyond the door. Finally the shadow seemed to wrap him up and disappear before him. He now stood directly in front of the door. Eyes wide and fearful, he stared at it as if in a trance.

(Part 2 next time…)

Above is a picture of Ken Walker and I at the three trees coffeehouse singing!

Remember when the economic recession hit? For our coffeehouse donations slumped down, revenue crawled down and expenses hiked up. We had a cushion of finances, but it was slowly being eaten away as we were losing $3000 per month. The Lord called Dann our manager to other things and so we had a new manager named Megan. Then she had a baby and I became the manger. But what do you do when you are managing a coffeehouse, running a mission organization and starting a church plant when you’re married with two kids and another is on the way? You see if another coffeehouse can take the coffee side and I continue the church/ministry side, but even that doesn’t work, so we finally decided to let the coffeehouse go and focus on the church and outreach stuff.

It was a sad day when we had to close, but the LORD provided for us at the Majestic Ballroom and Dance/Events Center so we could continue the Jesus Gathering church plant there on Sunday nights and our open mic on Thursday nights. We had a number of baptisms as folks’ lives were transformed by Christ through His love at the coffeehouse and now some people understood the Source of that love. It was all Jesus- we had prayed daily over the atmosphere and were motivated totally by His love. Now we were praying for God to raise up servant leaders to help us in the work of discipleship (helping people grow in Christ-like faith and love).

Above: Andrew professes his faith in Jesus before his baptism at a baptism service just after the coffeehouse closed in 2011.

The open mic was wonderful as we made many friends who we pray will be friends eternally. And the Jesus Gathering really became a church, moving from just a place where homeless folks got food and maybe listened to the message to a place where folks sensed the call upward to know the Lord and walk with Him. Eventually we no longer did free meals every week, but a potluck where our friends were contributing rather than always receiving. Still most of us were coming out of mental illness, homelessness and/or addiction, so the needs could be overwhelming.

I remember one young man coming half-drunk but smiling at everything he saw at the Jesus Gathering. Soon he joined us in the work and he and his friend even lived on the streets with the homeless for a long period of time in order to share Christ’s love and receive from them also. Now than young man runs one of the Bible Studies and is on staff with us as a servant leader.

Our prayer for servant leaders has been answered and we now have four added to the team who help us along with many other volunteers to lead, serve and help people grow in their faith and love in Christ. The Jesus Gathering had become difficult for our small staff with Bernie and Mary Brower, Linda Hammingh and I doing a lot of the rides, meal coordination, ministry, prayer and Word work as well as helping folks in practical ways throughout the week. For the Senti’s the pressure of ministry had just become too much and they needed a Sabbatical. Rochelle developed fibromyalgia and Mitchell did prayer healing work and joined a wonderful small group of pastors learning to recover from ministry burnout. It was obvious that the burden of ministry needed to spread to others and the idea of house churches, where more than a few people to the work of ministry, but it is shared by the Body even more, is much easier to foster.

And now that has begun with two house churches, two more in the works and a celebration Sunday once a month that we still call the Jesus Gathering. The Senti’s have found a more restful rhythm and leaders have been raised up to help share the load. The Lord is faithul and there’s even time to share music and ministry with local churches and sometimes at local open mics. There are so many stories I could tell about lives transformed, street nights with amazing encounters, and new names and faces, but some of those are stories for those folks to tell and others are shared generally in our newsletters. I’ll just say that Jesus is very much alive and well, very gracious and anyone who is willing to bow the knee to Him and follow His ways will experience not only the priviledge to suffer with Him, but the joy and peace that are what we are created to experience. It only makes me wonder: what does the future hold? And only He knows.

Next blog will be samples from my book, “A Bride for Jeshona”…

Rochelle and I singing at three trees coffeehouse pictured above:

As we sat around our living room, we discussed what to name the coffeehouse: the Vibe? The Cove? One of our friends suggested, “three trees”. We all smiled. I had in mind the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, the tree that Christ died on and the tree of life that we will eat from in heaven. He had in mind the three trees on Golgotha. Another thought of the Trinity.

When we told local churches our vision for a place that anyone could come, but if folks wanted to know about Christ we were there to tell them, they started donating towards it years before it came to fruition. A five year business plan is not easy to write up, nor is it easy to negotiate a space downtown and bring drawings to the city on renovations. We learned about state and Federal guidelines, non-profit business, budgeting, management, and coffee. I had taken a job at Katz Coffee in Lynden to learn how to make a latte and a mocha. This fellow came from California named Dann and he knew his stuff. He managed Katz. As we finished renovations with the help of contractors and volunteers, I asked him to manage Three Trees Coffeehouse. He agreed. None of these things could we have done without God- I wasn’t administrative nor did I know coffee, but God provided.

 Dann and his wife Abby pictured w/Mitchell

The first night on December 9, 2005, we could hardly get the sound system to work. Our espresso machine wasn’t ready. We couldn’t get the coffeemaker to work. We had to put out quarter slices of muffins from the Grace Cafe and I was still in my paint clothes when people walked through the door. But by God’s grace our first band played on the stage and the sound system worked. We got coffee out about ¾ of the way through the band playing. And I had my first cup with friends as we sat on the floor together, since others were sitting on the couch. Again God was faithful.

A woman came in that night who kept all her belongings in a shopping cart. She spoke a lot without making sense to us, had a lot of makeup, not enough clothes on, her hair frizzed up and she approached the coffeebar with a big smile, asking if we were the “love family”. Not knowing what that was my wife hugged her over the counter and said “yes, we are”. For two years we struggled to know how to love her. She’d been kicked out of every non-profit in town; they told us not to help her because, why did we think we could help her if they couldn’t? We had to ask her to leave often from her disruptions and yelling because she put her clothes in our dumpster and then the dump truck would take it away on Friday morning. We tried to explain to her that wasn’t our fault, but she wouldn’t have it. Two years later we asked her if we could pray for her in the name of Jesus; she agreed and it was like something came out of her. She breathed out, calmed down and from that point on the change began. She got off heroin, started taking medication that actually helped her stay in her right mind. She got housing with our help and the Opportunity Council. She looked to Jesus as her one and only instead of one of the gods and goddesses of her pantheon. And she started to call us the “Jesus family”. Now she is like family to us and a very important part of our church.

That is one of hundreds of stories I could tell, but God was beginning to transform many more lives in Jesus’ Name though three trees coffeehouse. There was an open mic on Tuesday nights- we met so thousands of folks through that. There was discussion night where we heard every perspective imagineable and shared our Christian perspectives as well. There were Bible Studies, art groups, and other open mics that started there as well. And Fridays and Saturdays were full of great music nights. We sought to foster real community and there were many folks who did inquire into our faith, many who did become disciples of Jesus. Hundreds of friends were gained there. But then we told folks that had come to Christ that they needed a church. We started a worship service on Sundays where small groups from local churches could bring food and serve it and get to know our people.

But soon it became obvious that folks weren’t plugging in to these churches. They considered the coffeehouse their church. And who could argue with them? We had coffee and bagels daily in fellowship, lots of prayer up in the office, now a worship service on Sundays. So we told supporting churches that we would start a church plant. The Lord had started it already. Folks that had come to know Christ or had reconnected to Him there need to be cared for and nurtured in that faith. So the Jesus Gathering became a church plant. What a mishmash of people it was! We asked what people were thankful for and heard lots of wonderful things, then someone said, “I’m thankful for marijauna!” We knew we were in for it, but what a blast! Next time I’ll write more about the coffeehouse and its’ ending…

As Rochelle and I worked in Lynden to raise money to go to Seattle, it took us a while to see that we were actually called to Bellingham, WA instead. While in Lynden, God provided a nice little apartment on the Homestead Golf Course that we never expected. We worked as worship leaders at Sonlight Community church in Lynden and I did homeschool teaching with a wonderful local family, while Rochelle did babysitting as a second job. The Single Adult Ministry at Sonlight came to a close because we couldn’t get enough folks to come alongside folks, though there were some who did an amazing job of it. But it was beautiful to see folks coming from downtown Bellingham and coming to know the LORD in a church in the ritzier part of Lynden, simply because we loved them in Jesus’ Name. When this ministry closed it seemed that it was time for us to start our ministry in Seattle. We agreed to sign on an apartment there, but on the way the wood paneled station wagon mysteriously starting breaking down as we moved closer to Seattle. We turned the vehicle around and suddenly it stopped shaking and breaking down just as we brought it into Bellingham on our way back north to Lynden.

Our friends started to ask us whether we were called to Bellingham, but we still felt like it was too easy to go there. Surely God would call us to the gritty parts of Seattle where we would suffer for Him! Hmm… Then God called me one night to look for someone from the Sonlight ministry that had run away and I found myself outside of a beloved coffeehouse named Stuart’s in downtown Bellingham. I met a man there who was a believer but was struggling with the Trinity and as I explained that Jesus was the Word in human form he received revelation from God and thanked me, sharing his own testimony. And as I looked around at the folks there a supernatural level of love filled my heart for all of them. I didn’t find that stray person I was looking for, but when I came home to Rochelle I was shaken. I explained to her that I believed we were called to downtown Bellingham. God gave Rochelle and I a vision of a little house there and children, and she started to cry, finding it hard to believe that God would give us those things.

But it became clear to us that God was calling us to Bellingham as our “promised land”. So we moved to an apartment there owned by a friend. We had become disillusioned with the institutional church, so we decided to start a house church and invite friends just to join us and see what would happen. Some of them came to live with us in a communal way. My anxiety returned and we had a lot of struggles personally It was as if the devil was chewing us up. Our friends all fell away from the faith and left the house eventually. We realized that we needed some kind of authority beyond ourselves and so returned to the church, seeing the need for elders, instead of trying to see who the smartest person in the room was, which never worked anyway.

The Christian Reformed Church in Bellingham received us with joy and patience as we worked through what it meant to submit to leadership. There were things we didn’t agree with, but we submitted ourselves anyway and it made all the difference. Some beautiful friends who we will never forget joined with us and we started doing street ministry. And it was then that we put forward the idea of a coffeehouse in downtown Bellingham to the local churches. This idea took off and soon the LORD put $80,000 into our laps and a crew full of people who were ready to help start it! It was then also that I had an encounter with Christ by which my generalized anxiety was completely healed. I also started to take medication that took the edge off so that I didn’t have panic attacks anymore. (I still had panic attack disorder, but with medication it was a non-issue- thank God for medication!)

Amazing folks came with us on the journey, and I feel like the writer of the book of Hebrews because I don’t have time to talk about Dan and Abby, Alan, Kristin, Brooke, Amy, Linda, Bernie and Mary, Matthew, Kevin and so many others; a Board of Directors who seemed to come from heaven itself, volunteers a plenty who all became friends, then literally thousands of people who came through, hundreds of which also became friends with us so that I couldn’t possibly name them all.

I was ordained as an Evangelist in the Christian Reformed Church (picture at the ordination service with my Dad above) and our ministry had begun! Next time I’ll write a little bit about the coffeehouse as I remember it…

(Rochelle and her college roommates pictured above)

Iowa is full of solid, hard-working and kind people. For me Iowa was a place of healing and rest. I worked in a factory while my wife finished school at Dordt College in Sioux Center. We were part of a church plant that allowed me to preach the Word without a seminary education and to teach Sunday school to the students there as well as lead a college Bible Study. Rochelle and I enjoyed our first year of marriage and prayed about where God was calling us to next. From a local counselor I received tools for healing from anxiety, but it still lingered and yet we had such joy with friends coming over to our little apartment, sharing stories, a little mission trip to Kansas where my Dad had grown up and a lot of prayer with friends and each other. Rochelle was the campus worship coordinator for a worship service called “Gift”. She spoke often there and allowed me to be one of the guest speakers as well. She had experienced the gifts and power of the Holy Spirit on the campus there at the same time as I did while in Lynden. She felt the call at the same time, though we had broken up and hadn’t talked for about a year’s time, to use her musical gifts to care for and bring the Gospel to the poor. That was part of why when we started talking again, we saw that the Lord was bringing us together, not only for marriage, but also for ministry.

In Zuni the idea of a coffeehouse had come to me in the middle of the night as an excellent way to use the gifts that Rochelle and I had in music and prophecy to reach out and care for the poor with the Gospel and community in Jesus. We thought that God was calling us to start a coffeehouse/community in Chicago, since the Spirit had told me to go there 4 years earlier. So when Rochelle finished college, we hit the road, first playing a coffeehouse in Minnesota and staying with friends there. Then we went to Grand Rapids, on then on to Chicago where we stayed in an apartment for house sitting and finally with the Jesus People USA in uptown Chicago.

The Jesus People USA has an old hotel that Al Capone used to own, and they live communally there with 500 people. They took over a nursing home that had been located there where the old folks were abondoned and starting ministering to them. We stayed in the room of some old hippies who were at the Cornerstone music festival at the time. Rochelle and I cooked in the kitchen while we were there, because of course they had to make meals for 500 people three times a day. We helped with the children at one of the homeless shelters and became part of one of the Bible Studies there.

It was an amazing place with punks and old hippies, former drug addicts and prostitutes; all living with everything in common and seeking to be faithful to Jesus. We really considered whether God was calling us to be there and start a coffeehouse with them, but we realized God had called us not to build on someone else’s foundation. They had already developed businesses to support their community and homeless shelters that transitioned people into life again, a huge church of very humble folks seeking Jesus in their brokenness. It seemed to us that they had already done it and didn’t need us. The real kicker, too, was that we would have to allow the wood-paneled station wagon to be owned by everyone there. 🙂 We realized that this level of community was too radical for us and we still wanted to have our own space from which to minister in love. We also saw that Chicago was not a coffeehouse city at the time, so we purposed in prayer to go to Seattle and see if the Lord would open a door for us there.

From the Jesus people we learned a quote from Jean Vanier: “Humility is the soil of unity”. The Jesus People exemplified this truth well. The only way we can move forward in community is to have humility before God and one another. We believed that this was the lesson God wanted to teach us from that community as we sought to move forward in fostering authentic community in Christ Jesus.

So we traveled back down through Kansas to Colorado where Rochelle’s parents live, to Zuni, to encourage our friends there and up to Lynden again, so we could raise funds to be missionaries in Seattle, Washington. But as we passed through Bellingham on the freeway on our way back to Lynden, we had a very strong pull there and wondered if God was speaking to us that we should move there. We decided that this was wishful thinking and prayed fervently about moving to Seattle to the inner-city. We married, after all, with the intention of living in the midst of the inner-city, not having natural children for the sake of having spiritual ones, and being willing to stay in an apartment where there was crime, cockroaches and car fumes. Bellingham sounded too good to be true, so we decided to work at jobs in Lynden in order to raise money to do mission work in Seattle’s Capitol Hill district. Find out next time how God called us from there…

Our engagement picture before I left for Zuni, New Mexico

The road to Zuni was not smooth, but full of difficulty. Zuni, New Mexico is a town which is actually part of the Zuni Native American reservation. I had been there in high school with our chamber choir tour and listened to the youth pastor as he described some of the difficulties there. By the Spirit I knew that someday I would be there and prayed a silent prayer that I might be a youth pastor there.

After the little revival in Lynden among the youth, I went to Seattle to seek God for the next assignment and Zuni was put on my heart again. My mother e-mailed me and said that there happened to be a job opening there for a youth pastor. So, after asking Rochelle to marry me, I set out in the wood-paneled station wagon for Zuni.

Unfortunately, on the way there the wagon broke down in Oregon. I found a cheap hotel and struggled with why this trip didn’t seem as smooth as the road to Mississippi. After the wagon was fixed I drove on and it broke down again in Utah. Again, I got a hotel and waited for it to be fixed, struggling with the difficulty even more. Then the service engine soon sign came on again, so I took it to a dealership and they got it running again as best as they could. This was becoming expensive for a poor traveler who didn’t know what lay ahead. By now I was becoming anxious that it would break down in the middle of nowhere.

I prayed and got to Zuni very late in the night, once again sleeping in the car.

The pastor of the church and principal of the Mission school met with me and offered me the job, so I was excited to get started. They wanted me to work alongside a Zuni fellow named Kevin and a Navajo man named Rhonan. We shared the youth pastor work together. But the first night I stayed the night there in the bungalow, I thought there was a huge snake in my bed. I jumped out and in the process my guitar was knocked over and split in half. It felt strange to tell Pastor Mike what happened, but he didn’t seemed phased at all. Apparently this sort of thing happens to others there. The elders decided to buy me a new guitar and I wondered, “what is this place I’ve come to?”

Very soon it became clear that something did not want me to be there. Often at night I felt evil spirits come into the room and try to bring fear on me and various temptations. I prayed and they would go away in the Name of Jesus. The people in the church there totally understood what I was going through and testified to similar things. So I knew I wasn’t going crazy, but this was all new to me.

While there I had the opportunity to minister to students, especially in the 7^th and 8^th grade, and to help disciple my fellow youth pastors and especially a couple of students there. There were also many opportunities to share the Gospel of Jesus, which some of the students hadn’t yet understood and a few of the new students had never heard before.

At times as we shared the Gospel there was resistance in the areas where it challenged the ancestor worship of the traditional beliefs there. I could tell many stories, some of which folks might not even believe if they read it, but I do remember a man who had a legion of demons cast out of him who had been a satanist and then became a Christian, who last I heard was ministering Christ on the streets of Gallup, New Mexico.

There were a lot of joyful times, getting to know the families and friends there, playing basketball, going to concerts with the students, having pizza and hanging out, and sharing music there. But at times it was also a lonely place for me, especially as I was waiting to be married to Rochelle. The Lord gave me opportunities to preach at the church, to make disciples, to share music, to teach Bible, music and even some history/geography, to share the Gospel and to encourage the church there. Those folks there are, by the grace of God, some of the most courageous, humble and loving folks I’ve ever encountered.

I left with tears, knowing I would miss them, but also with a growing anxiety that started with the wagon breaking down on the way there. By the time I got married in Lynden and moved with Rochelle to Iowa, the Lord began to heal me of anxiety disorder which had developed there without me even knowing it. It wasn’t until the Holy Spirit reminded me that we are blessed when we suffer for the Gospel, that I began to heal. In Nashville I learned the way of love. In Zuni, I learned the way of suffering for Christ. In Iowa the Lord gave me rest. More on that next time…

Here is a picture of the amphitheater in Ephesus where 20,000 people rioted when the Apostle Paul proclaimed the Gospel there according to Acts 19 in the New Testament of the Bible.  It was a pleasure to visit there and made the Scriptures come alive.  Here is part of the story of how I got there:

Struggling as I was with loneliness, feeling like I couldn’t go on with this life on the road for Jesus, I told my parents and my girlfriend Rochelle that I would come back home. So I did go back to Lynden and started working in a factory. But all that time I knew I was running away from the call again. When once I almost lost one of my fingers in a work accident, I woke up to the fact that I was running away and repented, tearing my clothes and selling my stuff once more, I purposed to go wherever God would lead. Well, he had me stay right where I was again and work for my Dad as a house painter. But soon His purposes would be made known. I received a call to go to Mexico on a mission trip with a youth group. On the way there the door also opened for me to go to Turkey and Israel on a free trip for a Christian video.

In Mexico I preached the Gospel for the first time at the age of 19 and prayed with people there to receive Christ. The churches there were small and we also did open air evangelism on the streets. Going to Israel and Turkey was also a highlight for me. When I returned there were several people who had a burden for our little town of Lynden, especially for the youth. We sensed that God wanted to bring unity to the churches and revival to our hearts. Suddenly where kids had been drinking and partying down by the river, they all started worshipping and praying together. The gifts of the Spirit, such as tongues and prophecy, started to manifest among us. Then miraculous healings started happening in the name of Jesus. A friend of mine asked if I would help him start a young adult ministry, which became a cafe ministry called Sam’s Cafe. We thought it was going to be a dynamic place for young adults who had left the church, but it quickly became clear that this was an outreach. Down and out folks from downtown Bellingham and locally started coming who didn’t know Jesus and they began to have faith in Christ for the first time. We asked them if it was the music or dynamic preaching; they said no, it was the love of God in the people there. Soon many more began to receive the Lord in faith into their hearts. Many of those folks have remained Christians and are friends of ours now.

At that time high school and college aged folks were praying every night for God to move, just because we wanted to. We worshipped in song every chance we could get. Groups started going into downtown Bellingham and sharing Jesus, handing out food and hot chocolate on the streets. I and my friends were experiencing the Holy Spirit in new ways, like folks praying in tongues and sharing in meetings prophetic words that the Lord had laid on their hearts. On one occasion a young man declared to another young man whose mother was told she was dying of cancer, “she will be healed!” She had a test and the cancer was gone. I remember God opened the door for preaching and leading worship in churches and recording CD’s of the music He gave me. It was very exciting and so much of the time things seemed to happen quickly and joyfully.

We learned that God was moving all over the country, especially in college aged folks, in a similar way. In fact, my ex-girlfriend Rochelle was experiencing a lot of the same things unbeknownst to me. But when we starting writing again we realized that God was calling us to the same things.

The revival was starting to slow down, especially when we fasted and prayed for a young boy to be healed from cancer, but he wasn’t. Then God started also giving us prophetic words about worshipping Him even when we didn’t feel it anymore, seeking His Face and not His hand. God was bringing us to a deeper place of discipleship, but many weren’t ready for that. Yet God remained faithful and we were learning not to trust in feelings and things happening just as we wanted them to.

My work was coming to a close in Lynden and so I went to Seattle to fast and pray and seek God’s face for the next work. During that time it became clear to me that I should ask for Rochelle’s hand in marriage. I also received the call from God to foster authentic community in Christ in the midst of a lonely, busy culture of America. Rochelle said yes! And we were engaged, but while in Seattle the Lord made it clear that I was to go to Zuni, New Mexico next. And that would also prove my own personal faith: was it based on things going easily or on the truth of God’s love and Word? Find out next time…

Here’s a picture from the Nashville days with the young fellow I tutored in the after school program.

A friend recently requested that I recount some of the missionary journeys the Lord called me on from the past, so here goes:

When I was in high school the Lord was already laying on my heart a burden for the down and out and the poor. He was calling me to follow Him wherever He might lead. As I read Scripture this seemed to be how He called the disciples. I noticed too that they experienced the Holy Spirit and miracles in a way that I hadn’t been brought up to believe was possible in modern times. One night the Lord impressed on me very strongly to go to Chicago in my wood-paneled station wagon and leave my family and everything behind. My brother had wanted me to go with him to Nashville, TN and try to get a record deal with him in music somehow. I was wavering between the Lord’s call and this exciting opportunity. I knew the Lord had called me to give up music to Him and use it for His glory and not my own. But instead of following my own call I promised my brother that I would go with him to Nashville and try to get a record deal. As fun as that was my heart was miserable. I worked difficult hours at International House of Pancakes and my brother and I started to have auditions with drummers. We did choose to live simply and my brother desired to do the music for God’s glory too, but I knew God had something else planned for me that I was running from. After two months, I felt the call again to sell my stuff, give to the poor and follow where He led, so I set about doing that, thinking that God would surely send me to a developing country somewhere. I quit my job and sold my stuff that I didn’t think I needed, but the LORD opened a door for me right there in Nashville to be an after-school tutor with a ministry called Saloma Ministies that worked in the projects in that city. I got to know one ten year old boy and taught him about the Lord, got to know his family and tried to help them as best as I could. I did play music sometimes in coffeehouses and cafes, challenging folks to follow Christ, but I learned a lot about loving in Christ’s name in the Projects. I got the job at IHOP back with better hours and started sharing Jesus’ love with the people I worked with. I learned that a person doesn’t necessarily have to go to a specific place to follow God’s call, just follow Him right where they are.

Then my giflfriend Rochelle called me and told me about a place in Mississippi called Cary. A group from a ministry there came to her school and talked about what they were doing. I knew God would have me go there soon, but I didn’t know exactly where it was or much about it. Then the time came where the Lord’s Spirit made it clear that I must go to Mississippi and believe that He would provide for me there. I had worked in Nashville for 9 months and quit my job again at IHOP. When my two week notice came up, I got very sick and couldn’t keep food down for four days straight. I cried out to God, “Did you call me to Mississippi or am I just going crazy!?” I opened my Bible and my eyes fell on the verse where Jesus says, “Rise up and go, your faith has made you well.” Still sick, I packed up what little I had, including some matches and firewood in case I would need to camp in the Delta, got in my wood-paneled station wagon and started driving south towards Mississippi. As soon as I started on the highway my sickness was gone and I started laughing and praising God for the freedom of not knowing where I was going, but believing that he would provide. I felt like I was riding on the wings of His love! I came to a town at 9pm, not knowing where I was and it was dark so I decided to sleep in my wagon. Soon a police officer came to my vehicle and knocked on the window. I got out and he asked me, “What you doin’ here?” With my long flowing hair and beard I declared that I was following the Spirit wherever He led me. The officer said, “It ain’t safe here. I’m going to take you to the Kahri Krishn Center.” I agreed to this, thinking that he was taking me to the Hari Krishna Center, because of his thick accent. I came though an impoverished town and when he brought me to the place I saw the sign said, “Cary Christian Center” and realized that this was the place that Rochelle had told me about on the phone. I parked my wagon, pretty tired by now and looked into one of the building, seeing a group of white kids about my age dancing around and decided to go to sleep, thinking I was delirious.

The next morning I was awakened by the volunteer coordinator, Joe. I explained my situation and he marveled asking, “How old are you?” “19”. “That funny because we had made plans with a 19 year old Menonite guy who was supposed to show up today and do some work for us, but he backed out at the last minute and now you show up.” I asked who the people were in the building nearby and he said they were from Dordt College. My parents had gone to that college and my girlfriend was planning to go there, so I thought that was very interesting. When I met them I realized one of them had been a classmate of mine from Lynden. The Center gave me an apartment with a bed, a couch and TV and all the food I needed as I started working on fixing shotgun shacks for the poor and playing Gospel music in the churches there. I knew that the Lord was with me and very much alive! He healed me and provided for me miraculously! I learned to hear from the Spirit from folks like Mamma McGee and also how to worship with my whole body, soul and spirit. What an amazing experience God gave me and I’m still riding on the wings of His love ever since. Well that’s the first chapter I’ll share for now.