VON'S RODENT MINISTRY

I remember some years ago, at a men's Prayer Breakfast we had at our Church. One of our Deacons was talking with me and the subject of my efforts to feed the poor in Tijuana came up. He said to me with a wry smile “ Why do you feed those guys over there? They're just like a bunch of rats, they'll just breed and multiply!” A spiritual leader of our Church sharing that opinion. He shocked me.

Up until that time I had no idea that some people thought I had a ministry to flea bitten rodents.

Mr. Deacon, your right; breed and multiply they do, but animals they're not! They're not rats! I don't feed rodents!

Although no one has made that statement to me since, I sometimes quietly wonder how many people, even Christians, feel efforts like mine are a waste of time and money, maybe that's why givers to our ministry are hard to find.

I also wonder why the poor have so many kids! There are reasons, yet I must remember that's not my business! And the many children they bring into their wretched world? The kids didn't have any say in the matter ... it's not their fault.

I don't enter my world to judge or condemn. My mandate from our Lord is to help. I'm to show compassion. I'm to give. I'm called to love the unloved, the unlovely and the unlovable.

I sincerely hope and pray that our small team of like minded Christians will grow so we can reach more that are caught in this dark hole.

THE G. F. WORD

Early in my years I became aware of abuses within our nation's General Fund. Sleazy politicians in our Federal Government taking funds designated for Social Security and using them in other areas. Since then I found the practice to be common, not only in our Federal Government, but in Sacramento and even in good old San Diego. Once it's in the fund what the money went for is anybody's guess. Political-Integrity is a misnomer!

It's true that Churches and non-profit organizations have similar problems. Innocent and concerned donors can be misled! Good hearted people burned. Abuses can be conveniently hidden in the General Fund.

That's why many Donors make specific designations and/or put their gifts toward a specific project.

Running Spectrum, a non-profit organization, opened my eyes. The Board and I had to be careful that we maintain our integrity and not abuse our General Fund.

The General Fund or what we may call "Overhead" despite its bad name is an essential part of any organization ... simply an "enabler," as essential as oil is to an engine.

When I started Spectrum. My rather naive and cynical eyes were opened! I too had to have a General Fund, Spectrum had overhead costs. Gas for the vehicles, electric bill, telephone bills, Internet, stamps and printing; the director has to have a salary (Although I can't take one now ... try and live in San Diego on only Social Security!) Yes, even now, we have Overhead so we have a General Fund.

In our particular ministry in Mexico we have to have cash available where lives like Maribel and Fernando are at stake we had to move quickly! We always need a pool of several thousand dollars. Remember, when I write of a real and immediate need, it may take days or weeks for the finances to come in ... all of these needs must be paid in cash up front! They can't be paid by faith, they must be paid by dollars.

Indeed the General Fund can be an instrument of abuse or an instrument implementing true ministry. It all depends on the integrity of the one who holds the purse-strings.

Photo: I'm often invited into a home to eat.

A FREE BADONI

Several years ago at Hume Lake Conference Center we had a camp of about 500 teenagers. The first night of the week-long camp, I was asked to give the announcements; the DOs and DON'Ts of camp. I'm humorous and the kids liked my approach.

All the kids were crowded into the auditorium, new friends, new experiences ... ready for the week at this beautiful camp.

As I was giving the announcements a thought struck me and I followed it through. "You guys listen up! This year with your registration you all get a free badoni. Just go to the snack bar and ask for it." Well, you could see the impact immediately! All the kids started asking each other what a badoni was.

Yep, the seed was sown.

Looking back it was really unfair to the speaker, bless his heart. The kids weren't into the message at all, they were into the badoni, what ever that was. They figured it was free and it must be something to eat.

So much for the bait, now for the hook!

Ah the snack bar just across the street from the auditorium. Every teen knew where the little snack bar was.

As soon as the service ended, literally everyone headed for the doors and out to the snack bar. They wanted to be first at the badonis; whatever they were.

Well, the snack bar could hold about fifty people or so as I recall, and now it was flooded with teens asking for their badonis. Of course the snack bar staff knew nothing about badonis. They asked the kids "what's a badoni?" and the kids didn't know ... only that Pastor von said that they had a free badoni coming. Some of the kids sitting at the counter were starting to chant ... "We want our badonis!!!, We want our badonis!!!" The terrified staff went into the kitchen to see what they could come up with. Indeed terror produces genius. They took two saltine-crackers and put a slice of pickle in the middle, stuck a toothpick in the thing and it became the first badoni! They handed that out to all the kids that wanted one.

As you might expect, I wasn't popular with the snack bar staff that week! (To be honest I have no idea what a badoni is, I just made it up as I was speaking.)

I love doing things like that (Forgive me Lord.)

HE AIN'T HEAVY, HE'S MY BROTHER

About eleven years ago I met the threesome living in a small hillside shack in a barrio called Pedrigal. The shack didn't even have a solid door but an old blanket draped over the side served as the door. Inside was mama, little Diego, a severely retarded eight year old boy, and his older brother Jovany, who was about 9 years old.

The situation was bad. We brought them food and provided pampers for Diego. I remember buying them a small propane stove and tank, which mother sold two weeks later to buy more food.

Spectrum with the help of a Church purchased property and built them a small house in a better area. We moved them in. Other Churches became aware of the situation helped with food and pampers. The situation was looking better. Suddenly the three disappeared. The house was empty. We looked for them but couldn't find them.

That's where I lost contact.

A few days ago Hortensia saw Diego's mother staggering around she was really drunk. Hortensia questioned a lady there about where she lived. What about the two boys? Soon we had a phone contact with Jovany; now a young man twenty-two years old.

He happily greeted her. "Hortensia I remember you coming to our house. Where is Pastor Von? Is he still alive? He used to visit Diego and bring me chocolates and little cars. Is he around?”

He filled Hortensia in on the missing years. It seemed their mother walked out on the two boys when Jovany was about ten. Just left! After a few days neighbors called the police and the boys were given to a family for care. In about a year their mother returned and took the boys back, but the house we built them was occupied, so again, they moved into a hillside shack where they live now.

At sixteen Jovany got a job, went back to school and in addition supported and cared for his handicapped brother. Soon Jovany will have his High School diploma to get a better job. What about your mother, Hortensia asked? "My mother? She's always gone, she's the town drunk! She embarrasses me.”

I wanted to visit them, but at my age I couldn't manage the hike down the steep hillside to their little shack. Jovany brought Diego up so I could meet the two of them again. Jovany, now a young man, was happy to see Hortensia and myself ... Diego, well, he still doesn't know who anyone is.

Fortunately their old house is occupied but still in our hands. We want to hand it over to Jovany. First, we've got to pay $1500 for the unpaid water bill and move out the occupants. It will be worth it; a young man like Jovany deserves a break! He really loves and cares for his brother.

It's the kind of stuff you enable us to do ... find a true need and meet it! This is just one of many challenges that come our way each month.

MAMA! YOU MADE HIM A UNISEX WIMP

Talk about bully bait! I'm disgusted at what the influence of many, many mothers through the years has done to the balance of men.

Too much perverted loving on the part of mama. Estrogen is rubbed, hugged and kissed into their man-child the first ten or twelve years of their boy's life and when their man-child goes into puberty his testosterone somehow gets watered down with estrogen. . A balancing father figure is strangely missing. (Fathers day? What's that? Who's he?)

Can there be too much mama love?

Apparently so, even though MaMa's will deny it. Look at, and listen to, the average young American male today. He is  definitely a different species of boy and or man then decades ago. Balls full of estrogen, a sickening paradox. Unfortunately, if you are looking for balls of testosterone you will find them in a gang or the prison world where male hungry kids band together to become collective males.. a wrong and dangerous route to manhood. But indeed who's at fault here?

Fathers where are you?

Watch the media and it will tell you in short order how hungry men (and boys) are for a macho male. Look at the media's artificial male. Look at his image (and acts) He looks about as male as you can get!

Distilled manhood!

Men of muscle, iron and steel.  Alas, just an image! A wannabe image!

FERNANDO'S RECOVERY

Well, it's all a memory now, the blood tests, the trips to the doctor, the hospital and the surgery; now it's get well time for Fernando. I saw him a few days ago at the orphanage in his new pajamas. I had promised him a remote control car if he went through the surgeries like a man ... he did cry a bit as they stitched him up, but after all he is only ten. Yep! He got the car.

His little red remote control car went over big.

When he saw me he gave me a smile and a hug and a picture he drew for me. As any true artist, he put his name and date down on the bottom of the drawing. I was amazed by his drawings, this little boy is gifted!

Fernando doesn't know the many of you who pitched in and made his surgery possible, but he does know that a lot of Americanos got together and helped him.

Thank you from Fernando and I want to thank you too, by the way, he's going to draw a picture for his doctor friend too.

A THOUSAND WORDS

It's been said "a picture's worth a thousand words"; that was yesterday add the glut of text today and a good picture is worth thousands of words. A photo impacts you, I've had photos change my life.

How can I express compassion by text, I can't. Yet compassion for the poor is a root of our ministry. This photo shows a father passionately trying to communicate with his brain dead son! Indeed it's one thing to look at this and let it grip you; it's quite another to be there watching Bernardo begging for Tony's life. I stayed. I prayed, and after pressing some transportation money in his hand, I left.

Bernardo lives with the memory of his wife dying of cancer a month before, and now this unhealed wound. We helped Benardo with some food and medical expenses. Giving is one way we can show gratitude to God for His goodness to us.   

Thanks to the many of you who pitched I and helped us afford Fernando Angel's hernia operation. (His mother, a very poor lady thanks us in tears.)

In the next few weeks we have to raise the money to send both David and Abraham, and their mothers, to Mexico City for what we hope will be their last surgery. Several specialists will do the surgery free if they are done in the big hospital in Mexico City. These boys just want to be normal, they are both incontinent. David has to stick a catheter through his abdomen three times a day ... often causing major infection! Not good! Jesus had compassion! Sacrificial compassion (Thanks for our Salvation!) His compassion is what drives us to help the helpless. Your compassion is what makes this help possible. (I might add my own money is part of that help too.)

Both of these boys could use your prayers along with the surgeons. We appreciate the break they are giving these boys. (By now the boys are good friends.)

Now remember the kids in our neighborhoods don't get money like our kids who live across the fence. A dollar to an American kid is nothing; a dollar to a boor barrio kid is everything. I'll admit, sometimes I do get weak with the dollar bills. For instance I've found that paying a dollar for a kids good grades is a gigantic motivator in our world. (Wrong motive? I'll agree! ... but it work Oh yes and I give a dollar for a child who had a birthday. Birthday celebrations are rare among the poor. A dollar for a tooth? I've done that for years!

Thank you for these photos Lucas.

Thank you for trusting our good judgement in helping the really needy! Over fifty years experience in navigating the land mines of "helping" the truly poor. Compassion in action.

In The love of Jesus, Pastor Von

A REAL REWARD

Many of you followed the story of little Maribel who lives in Laguna. Her plight was brought to our attention! Maribel had a deteriorating heart condition. No energy, lips and fingernails had a blue tint. Maribel's mother carried her to school and back on her own back. With Social Security Insurance from her father's factory job she was going to get a critical heart do over; her heart was just to small for her. The date was set for surgery. We asked for prayer.

Then her father lost his job and was unable to continue paying her monthly Social Security bill. Without Social Security a surgery like that would cost thousands of dollars. So our only option was gamble on it and continue paying the monthly S. S. cost hoping the surgery would be soon.

The months passed and the hospital postponed Maribel's surgery dates for one reason or other ... still we kept her Social Security going, paying almost $100 per month.

Finally Maribel got her operation and what a success it was! She's a different girl now! Energy, normal color. But the hospital was to give her follow-up care and later another surgery, so we kept up our monthly payments. Month after month.

Surprise! Last week Maribel's mother came to us and expressed the family's gratitude for all we had done. They now have a healthy daughter.

Surprise! Maribel's mother told us that got a factory job, and now is able to pay their own monthly Social Security Health Insurance.

They could have kept quiet and taken our monthly money as additional

Income. But they had gratitude, and dignity and were honest. A real reward!

We are grateful to have had a part in saving another little kids life. (Yes, there have been others!) Thanks to each of you who were a part in helping little Maribel. They're on their own now!

RISK

Risk is for the young. The older I get, the more I shy away from risk. Back then, I used to do a lot of risky things as Youth Director, our camps were always a lot of fun when mixed with a little risk and in Mexico was no exception. We had a lot of fun, but risk was involved. Risk was like a spice! I was young! I was naive.

In the past half century I grew to accept risk as part of my life. The thin strata of society in which I work is a high risk strata! The poorest of poor; dirtiest of the dirty. In these many years I'm afraid I have grown calloused to the dangers in my working environment. Ministry to the deserving poor ... the poor that deserve their plight.

At 85 I'm becoming more aware of just what "could" happen. I've always been a prime candidate for kidnapping. In driving Mexico, if I hit a child, or anyone for that matter, I go to prison! In a car crash, if anyone is injured or killed I go to prison. If a group of young "malandros" or young thugs beats me and takes my money designated for the poor; that's the way it is. If I'm accused by one person of a moral violation, I go to prison. If the cops want me, all they have to do is plant some drugs in my vehicle and then arrest me. If my arrest will gain someone money, I'll be arrested.

Anyone who thinks there is justice in Mexico is a fool ... in the government, as in the judicial system, only money matters. Mercy? No way!

The only way I can account for fifty years Ministering in Mexico with no problems; and thousands of Tijuana miles with not one major accident. It has to be God's provision!

Thanks to the many of you who lift me up in prayer. Indeed the safest place you can be, is in God's hands. I continue to solicit your prayers as I finish out my course. Thanks.

FINALLY EMMANUEL SEES A DOCTOR!

Last week we had a neurologist look over little Emmanuel, and indeed he has some real problems. His concussion four years back did him some real harm. The neurologist's exam took over two hours. The Doctor gave Emmanuel's mother a box of pills, (one a day), and she took him home. His next appointment is this coming Monday where he will hopefully, undergo a CT and/or MRI scan so we can find out what's going on in that head of his.

The Instructions the doctor gave were simple, one pill a day! So for fourteen days he was taking the medicine.

During that time he wanted to go back to school, and his teacher was surprised that he remembered things and he had a different attitude. His mother mentioned that Emmanuel was remembering little things like what he ate and what day it was, and his name. It seems those little pills were really helping. The box the doctor gave him was a two-week course. Well, they ran out of the medicine the doctor gave him, so we were asked if we would get some more.

Hortensia went to the pharmacy to buy medicine for a month. Wow! What a surprise! This medicine is going to cost over a hundred dollars a month! Elizabeth, with her family of seven, hasn't enough money to manage food for a day. No way can they afford to continue with this medicine for Emmanuel.

I guess that's where we enter the picture! The little boy's worth it! We'll take it a month at a time. Above is a photo of Emmanuel holding a months worth of his medicine.

Let's see what the next step shows.

HOW DO WE FIND THESE PEOPLE?

I'm interested in the way we find each other. At present we have over 120 needy families ... mostly widows. We try and help them with emergencies that come up. Lets include helping three orphanages and always a couple hundred kids ... and of course Chuy's large Old Folks Home.

How do we find the needy?

Yesterday was a good example; as we were about to leave our working area, an old beat-up car drove up and parked along the curbing. Several people asked if we would go talk with the young family inside the car.

It seems that one of their relatives, knew of us and talked them into coming, and a young man drove them to our location. Inside were young Tony, his wife and little daughter who live in one of Spectrum's areas, Barrio Laguna, but never show up on Spectrum's food give-away day. They had no need, so they proudly stayed away. Everything was going fine until four weeks ago, then in a few minutes their world collapsed.

It seems the little family was driving south, a two-day trip, to visit relatives. Late the first night a big truck sideswiped them; their car left the road and started rolling down the canyon. Tony had a seat belt on and made it out O.K. Sonia, his young wife, and their little girl were thrown from the car and were badly injured.

Tony called for an ambulance but the ambulance trip back to Tijuana cost more than they had. He got a quick loan from his company job and they made it to the general hospital where they operated on his wife and little girl. At this point Sonia can't walk and the little girl is in a big two-leg cast ... and Tony, well he feels guilty he made it out without a scratch.

At this point, they didn't have enough money to buy the prescribed medication (pain medication and antibiotics). They were also out of food (Pampers). And so they came for help. We immediately got the medication and food money to them.

How do we find each other? It's simple ... word gets around that we're willing and able to help in a crises like this. Thanks for making our ministry possible.

BUS RIDE FOR A HEMORRHAGING CHILD

Last Thursday was Spectrum's workday in barrio Laguna.

Mari was glad to get the free vegetables but really needed a couple of dollars to pay transportation to visit her boy in Tijuana's General Hospital. She threaded her way through the crowd contacting several of the missionaries telling them about her son Victor in the hospital. The day before he was vomiting blood where she took him, by bus, to the General Hospital where they quickly operated on him. She simply needed a little cash for bus fare to visit him. Several prayed with her but none offered her any help for transportation.

Then one lady pulled Mari aside and said, "go find Hortensia, she'll help you." Word gets around.

Well, that just what she did, and Hortensia listened to her story. Mari has four young kids and her husband is crippled and can't work. He gets a pension of about $90. a month. She earns a little extra by selling candies, tortillas and nopalis (cactus) When Victor, 9, had his attack, they took him to the hospital, but then she had to return home to the young children.

Alone in the General Hospital isn't a good place for a kid to be. No mother would want to leave her son in a Hospital alone. She wanted so badly to visit him, but had no money to get transportation. One or two dollars would do the job. No one it seemed had the money to give her.

Well, Hortensia did give her the transportation money plus some food money for the family.

I met Victor last Saturday, the day he was discharged from the hospital. He had lost a lot of blood. Victor was a little shy but let me pull his lower eyelids down and I saw he was still anemic. He needed good food and some red meat.. (Iron)  So we made it possible for her to buy the food the doctor prescribed. In this case the proper diet was essential!

We appreciate those of you who make it possible for us to help in cases like this.

TIJUANA BLOODBATH

The kids woke up when they heard the screaming, ran out of their little shack and up the hill to a neighbor's house. Alex, a drug addict and local pusher came early in the morning with a machete to teach his girlfriend a lesson. He burst into the shack angry and high on crystal ... the more Sara, his girl friend, screamed the more he hacked her.

Her two sisters and 70 year old mother were in the room too and tried to intervene. They were yelling and screaming for Alex to stop cutting into Sara. The more they all screamed the angrier he became; In a rage he started cutting them all! The neighbors said the screaming went on for more than an hour.

It ended up a bloodbath!

By the time the police arrived two women were dead and the others were severely cut up, Grandma is still in the hospital.

And Alex, known in his barrio as "El Tigri (The Tiger);" ... he escaped down the canyon side.

The people are staying inside these nights.

On several occasions we've helped Sara get food for the four kids. Last night; in quiet contrast to the Monday before, the funeral was held. We placed flowers near the caskets and we'll help pull what's left of these families together, especially the kids.

We can always use your prayers for protection as we work these needy yet violent neighborhoods.

MY KIDS! WHAT ABOUT MY KIDS?

Unfortunately, this is a true story.

Patricia lives in Tijuana, is dirt poor, has several little children and no man in the picture ... and hungry they are.

A week and a half ago, she was so excited because she got a job working in a factory, but transportation to and from work took from their little stash of food money. In a factory job, you have to work two weeks before you get your first pay check. Translated; hungry time!

Half way through her second week she thought of a little scheme. At break time she would go through her fellow workers personal lockers and take their lunches; mostly tacos and burritos. She pocketed them and took them home.

When workers discovered so many lunches were missing, management took a look at their surveillance cameras and Patricia was busted. She didn't know about surveillance cameras.

Yesterday they called her into the office where four policeman slapped cuffs on her and told her she was arrested for stealing. One cop told her "you'll be going to prison for this." They drove off with Patricia sobbing and asking "what about my children?"

Management carefully checked all the affected lockers for what was taken. Only food was taken, no purses, no phones, no money ... just food.

People are hungry.

Today the Tijuana newspapers are reporting a growing increase in shoplifting in grocery stores ... what are people stealing? Food! Just food.

Getting food is now taking first priority, trumping education, rent and medical needs. No food stamps in Tijuana

People are hungry!

WHERE'S YOUR FATHER?

Victor is big for thirteen, Last night I asked him if his father was at home. "my father?" He said, and he drew his finger across his neck. I didn't quite get that, so ... Victor continued, "My father is dead, they cut his throat in prison." I mentioned I was sorry. He seemed indifferent.

I often ask the boys about their father, most have a different yet painful answer about their father. Many simply don't know and they don't seem embarrassed about it.

"Where is your father Daniel?" "He's in south Mexico somewhere." "How long has it been since you've seen him?" "Oh a long time, I think I was three or four."

"Efren, where is your father?" "He's dead, I have a step-father and I hate him, he beats us when he's high; he beats my mother; they're always fighting!"

"Michael?" "Oh, my father? He's with his girlfriend in another barrio."

Some years back I brought a happy load of teen boys home from our camp down from Ensenada. Everyone in the van was chatting happily. As we pulled into barrio Trinchi, Jorge 14, and his younger brother were last to get off. Their little shack was in a canyon below the road. The boys took their blankets and ran down the hill only to find that their father had hung himself that morning. Jorge came up and gave me the news. I walked down to the grieving family, I noted the rope the father used was still on the porch. I brought Jorge back up to my van and we talked for a time.

In barrio Trinchi, men don't cry, but I could see Jorge was fighting back the tears. His father wasn't a good man, but he was all that they had. I prayed for him and pressed a hundred dollars in Jorge's hand and told him he now was the man of the house ... and the money was to help with the funeral.

I could fill several pages with "Father Stories." Unfortunately most of these stories would be a tear-jerker. These are teen boys that have seen too much of the wrong kind of father

The unfortunate thing is that in many cases these kids are growing up to be what they have learned to hate ... a father.

INSIDE A LITTLE BOY'S HEAD

I don't often sit, but after my work in Barrio Ijido I was tired and decided to sit for a while. That's when ten year old Emmanuel came and sat with me, sort of snuggled up to me. Emmanuel is the youngest in a family of seven; he's quiet and shows little emotion. He sat close to me and didn't say much. In a little while he mentioned to me that he has no father. I replied, “O.K., I'll be your father then.” He looked up at me showing little emotion. He seemed to be comfortable just sitting with me ... saying nothing. Lucas took these photos a few weeks ago.

Just last week Emmanuel was put out of school. His teacher says he can't learn, sometimes he doesn't even remember his name. His mother got worried and began talking to us. She says he's going crazy. Lately he's been acting very strange; bizarre might be the word, and it's growing worse. We found out that four years ago he took a bad fall and hit the side of his head and was bleeding. His mother took him to the clinic and they stitched up the cut on his head and he was taken home. Concussion? Now it seems something is very wrong and growing worse. Often each day he holds his head and grimaces, it hurts he says. Sometimes staring off into space for hours. Other weird physical characteristics occur.

We scared the mother by telling her this is very serious. Something has to be done and now. Well, the family; no man in the picture ... is dirt poor ... in fact the other night she was going around trying to sell some of the boys clothing in order to buy a little food for the kids.

Well, she took him to the general hospital, where the doctor examined the boy and listened to the story and said it's urgent that he see a specialist as soon as possible.

I'm writing this just to say; the little kid needs your prayers! In fact the whole situation needs prayer. It's in our hands now. His mother needs intelligent help through this process. Neurologist, cat-scan, MRI ... yes, she iss a Christian lady.

There seems to be growing pressure in his head and we need to find out what's causing it.

Thank you for praying.

OLD FASHONED RELIGION

I've been churched most all my life! Over eighty years now, Wow! I could easily be one of those people that might say "I've been a Christian all my life." I was at Church week after week. Meeting after meeting ... at Sunday School I earned my pins for attendance, on time, bringing my bible and an offering. In those days we earned gold pins to wear on our suit coat. Oh yes you wore a suit to God's House!

In those days it was all about saving people or bringing them to Church to have the Pastor save them. I remember being in a contest, where if you saved so many of your friends, you would win a gas model airplane! Boy I wanted that plane. (Alas, I didn't win!)

To help us win souls we would have a Revival every year! We had a big cloth sign with REVIVAL written on it with the dates and times of the meetings. We would place this huge sign on our Church building, then we would hire an Evangelist to preach that particular week. "Old fashioned Gospel meeting" where we brought all of our sinner friends so they could be saved by the evangelist. We were all called to be "pew packers" that week. The Evangelist came with his six messages!

At those meetings I was saved! I didn't intend to be, but, you see my mother was very anxious that I be saved! I didn't know how anxious she was ... I remember the last night of the revival, I was sitting next to my mother in back on the last pew. We were singing the hymn "Just As I Am" while the Evangelist pleaded for one more sinner to come forward and be saved. I was hoping someone would come forward too, because then the meeting would be through. I was definitely not on the same track as my mom.

Believe me I had no idea how many verses there were to "Just As I Am." "One more, the Evangelist pleaded, there is one more person who needs to come forward!!" "He's struggling!" One more! My mother nudged me ... the Holy Spirit wasn't speaking to me ... but my mother was! Oh boy! At least that will end the meeting, I thought, ... so I dutifully went down the Isle to be saved! The Evangelist was praising God ... one more sinner, though a rather young thin one, was saved!

Two chubby deacons met me at the front and took me into a small room and saved me and also made me a Baptist!

I mentioned this personal experience for a reason. You see that night I was, "Still-born". (Sill born: having the form but lacking the life!)

This experience was the result of somehow thinking we can save a person. The truth is, we can't! Be it a pastor, evangelist or over zealous mother ... no one can save a sinner but God! When will we learn this? Why can't we wait until the Holy Spirit, in His time, in His way can do it right and the new life can start, as it should, from the inside-out?

We can do so much harm in forcing this intimate issue!

BANG!!!

I was studying Acts 1-2 and noting the dynamic of the believers in the early Church. I couldn't help comparing the Believers of that day with the Believer of today.

My Youth Group of about thirty all claimed to be believing Christians. They were for the most part Believers. I was eager to develop a lesson by which I could show the difference in Believers. But how, that was the question.

In thinking it over I came to the conclusion that there were "academic or intellectual" believers and "dynamic" Believers! Believers about Christ and Believers in Christ! When it comes to Belief it seems there are many degrees .

Now for a lesson to show the difference.

Being a youth director, I found several firecrackers I had stashed away. Nice juicy big red firecrackers. I took the fuse out of one and worked all the gun-powder out, then I stuck the fuse back in and lit the firecracker in my sink. Well, the fuse sputtered away and on down into the Firecracker and of course nothing happened. This neutered firecracker was going to be my object lesson for my teen Bible study.

Stuffing a new fuse into my neutered firecracker, I put the firecracker into my pocket along with a book of matches; I picked up my Bible and left for the meeting.

I recall I had about thirty kids in the room when I started the study on what it is to be a Believer. Most of them listened patiently while I tried to explain what it was to be a true Believer, like those in the New Testament. Men of action!

I said "Here, let me show you!" and I pulled the neutered firecracker from my pocket. Just seeing this big firecracker sparked the interest of all especially the boys. Boys love firecrackers! I talked a little on how powerful they are and how dangerous they could be.

Then I pulled the book of matches from my pocket! At that point here was a lot of thinking going on. Small room, thirty kids ... most of all; what's this guy going to do?

With one hand I held the firecracker while I lit the match with the other. All eyes riveted on the match and fuse. The group was clearly frustrated, scared yet fascinated ... what is this guy doing?

Well to their horror I lit the fuse!

While it was sputtering I threw it into the center of the group! As I expected there was a big reaction! A dynamic reaction! Boys in the back stood up! The girls screamed. Where the firecracker landed, the girl fell over in her chair. Movement, action, screaming! Chaos reigned!

But oddly nothing happened.

Now the setting was perfect to explain the difference in academic belief and dynamic Belief! All the commotion. All the action was brought about by what they believed was going to happen. They all believed the firecracker was going to explode, they all acted on their belief. A good example of real and dynamic belief.

No one just sat there intelligently thinking "this firecracker is going to explode, consequently I should do something."

You get the point. Just one good use of a firecracker laying around. (I was going to light it and stick it in my ear just to watch their expressions ... but the lesson proved of greater value.)

TO HELL WITH YOU!

In driving past Churches I notice the titles of the "sermon next week" ... some are quite catchy! After all, the pastor wants his sanctuary full Sunday Morning. Some of the titles are relevant and creative while others are losers.

Let me tell you the title that will bring them in!

This is a true story. Some years ago, as youth pastor, I was given an opportunity to preach. I was encouraged to announce my topic the Sunday before.

I went to the podium and casually announced that I was going to talk on hell, and name three people in our congregation that I wanted to see go to hell, and who they were.

You could almost hear a collective gasp! I don't think many listened to my pastors sermon that followed. The audacity of their youth pastor wanting people to go to hell was all they could think of! And of course, who were the three?

After the service ended I was swamped with people questioning me. Some even accusing me! It was as if I had committed blasphemy. I kept my cool and just replied simply that next week I would mention who I wanted to got to hell and why. You'll want to be there, I assured them.

Well, the following week the church was full!

Even people who didn't normally come; they were there too. The nagging question was "who" and "why".

My point was simple! I felt that if the pastor, myself, and the Sunday-School director were to go to hell for three minutes we would return different people! With a desire and passion we had never known to reach the lost!

It was just a jump-starter to speak on what it was to be a real Believer indeed. (I might mention that hell is full of believers ... simply those who believed too late.. ! )

Pastors, try that title and your church will be full the next Sunday.

TRUSTING GOD WHEN THINGS LOOK IMPOSSIBLE

Trusting His Word when it tells us to do the "wrong" thing, like bless and pray for our enemies! ... or turn the other cheek.

I was planning on teaching trust to my Youth Group!

I thought long and hard about how to demonstrate "trust". Then I got my answer.

I bought two big rat traps and fixed one so that it would not snap shut. The bate tag would function but would not trip the trap. The trap was wired open! Both traps looked identical.

At the proper time I took the two traps and a ten-dollar bill to the meeting. I was early and found a podium in which I set the two traps. No one noticed the two traps.

I started the meeting right off showing the kids the working rat trap. I snapped it loudly. I carefully set it and touched the bait lever with a pencil. Snap! The trap broke the pencil ... and everyone knew it would break fingers. I had everyone's attention, they were on the edge of their seats wondering what I was going to do with this trap.

While talking I put the working trap back down in the podium while picking up the second trap that was wired open. Behind the podium I pretended a struggle to set it and placed the folded ten-dollar bill in the bait lever.

I asked a question to the group. Do any of you want ten dollars? The answer was a qualified yes. (That was when $10. Was ten dollars!)

Then I asked how many trusted me? They all raised their hands. "Do you believe me?" I asked. "Yes" they said!

"Listen kids!" I held out the trap with the $10 in the bait slot, saying "Here's your ten dollars ... you just have to take it, I promise you the trap will not hurt you."

No one moved. "What's wrong?" I asked. No one moved as I tried to get them to take the money they wanted so bad.

Then I took the trap with the $10. To a small boy I knew that was sitting on the floor in front.

"Billy, do you think I would ever do anything to hurt you?" "No," he replied. "Would you like $10. Dollars?" He nodded his head. "Well, believe me Billy, just take the ten dollars off the trap, I promise you the trap will not hurt you." With that he looked at me, and then simply reached up and took the $10. Off the trap ... no snap. It was easy. It was his.

My audience was having mixed emotions, and now they just groaned.

I looked at them all. "You said you trusted me, but you proved you didn't!" We say we trust God ... but do we? "Just think you could have had $10. If you had just believed me."

Then I started the lesson on "Trust" and trusting God even when He asks us to do the impossible.

Yep! All the boys came up to see how I rigged the one trap. And how they were fooled ... and they still remember the lesson.

DIRT POOR

I can honestly say that I was born dirt poor. I was born in the Los Angeles general hospital in the year 1929; the start of the depression years. There aren't many around that can remember those years, where Americans actually stood in line for food. We patched our clothing, repaired our shoes and watermelons was a penny a pound.

My parents lived in a small studio apartment in Hollywood. Mother told me, years later, that they didn't expect me to live, worse they had little milk to feed me. My first bed was my father's suitcase; my second was a drawer in their dresser. My bed mattress was newspapers and my blankets were towels and whatever cloth they could get hold of. Note the photo above of my mother putting me to bed.

I grew up poor, like most of the kids in those depression years. My father, an artist, couldn't make money and my parents couldn't make a go of it so they divorced when I was about eight. Father left for San Francisco and we remained in Los Angeles.

With no income my mother, sister and I ended up on the State and Government Welfare. I remember those embarrassing days well. Second-hand clothing, few toys, small size meals.  Most of the kids at school got a little bit of spending money each week. My sister and I had little to no spending money. In those days a dime was a dollar, so pennies had to do.

We couldn't pay rent, so we moved a lot and lived in many places in Los Angeles and San Francisco. I remember living in a garage at one point. That meant changing schools often, too often. Making friends than losing them. Summers were bare-feet time. No shoes time. Sidewalks weren't bad, but the streets were really hot!

In a sense for the past half-century I've been working in the same economic strata in which I lived. I can actually say I understand living in poverty. I remember what ‘poor' feels like. I remember a strong mother who made do with what she had and a father who felt guilty for being a poor father.

Born poor, dirt poor and I don't regret it.

Indeed God prepared me for my ministry.

CHINESE CHRISTMAS

Every year, the day before Christmas, I spend the whole day cruising Tijuana, visiting families we know and visiting a variety of barrios giving toys out to the kids on the road.

Christmas Eve is a special time reserved for a meal with the kids at an orphanage.

Christmas Eve this year was no exception. We were invited to join the festivities at a large orphanage. Tamales and Turkey were on the menu. In Mexico Christmas Eve and New Years can be rather late ... at my age I just wanted to make a show, grab a tamale and head home ... it was another cold Christmas Eve!

We got there in the late afternoon, there were about fifteen teen tired boys. No sign of food or festivities. The afternoon moved into night-time then continued into late night and still no sign of any action. It looked like it wasn't going to be a Ho, Ho, Ho Christmas Eve, at least for these teens.

The kids mentioned they were hungry! I asked one kid when they ate last. "In the morning," he replied. "Well what did you have to eat?" "Cornflakes," another kid replied.

We waited, the kids were cold, hungry, tired and quiet. Then I got an idea. There was a small Chinese restaurant down the road. I asked a boy, "do you think that the Chinese restaurant is open tonight?" "Sure," he said, with a big smile! Others joined the idea.

So I said, "let's have Chinese tonight" Yeah! They all like Chinese food. A few of them jumped into my car and we headed down the dirt road hoping for Chinese Take-Out! Would the restaurant be open Christmas Eve?

Sure enough it was open! I ordered five big boxes of food! While we were waiting the kids came to me and said "Thank you von, we're so hungry!"

Indeed It was a Chinese Christmas this year!

WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE?

I took my youth ministry seriously. I took my time to teach and challenge my kids seriously and indeed it paid off. For the most part my kids, hundreds of them, were into the Bible. They were believers, young believers, but believers indeed. Upon their conversion, each was given a Bible.

I wanted to protect them somehow from a growing heresy that has caught many of us "Bible believers". So I figured out a good object lesson that would shake them up.

Baptist churches seem to collect old abandoned Bibles and we had our share of old and beat-up Bibles in our library.

I took one of these old Bibles with me to our big Bible study on Wednesday nights. I started talking about the Word of God, the Bible, and mentioned that there were verses I didn't particularly like. Verses that made me uncomfortable. I turned in the bible to a verse I didn't particularly like, read the verse, and then tore the verse out of the Bible, crumpled it up and threw it on the floor. You could hear the kids gasp! I continued on reading hard verses, uncomfortable verses and tore them from the bible and threw them on the floor. The kids were silent! Von, their Pastor, desecrating God's Word! I asked the kids ... what's the difference? If we aren't going to obey certain verses or believe certain verses or do what the Word asks us to do? It's the same thing! Are we allowed to pick and choose what we want from God's Word? The kids picked up on that, they got the point. That lesson won't be forgotten.

Many of us aren't aware that we are doing just that ... and that is heresy.

The Bible must be one of three things! (1) A book of Jewish myths and stories, or (2) a book that contains truth but is not necessarily truth itself, or (3) a book that is truth.

If the Bible is a book that simply contains truth, then I am allowed to pick and choose what I want to believe. A dangerous virus ... a very subtle heresy!

Many Christians don't realize they are doing just that! Think it over.

CHRISTMAS EVE 2013

For more than a half century I've spent Christmas in Mexico. Visiting homes and barrios distributing gifts and generally ending the night at an orphanage. Some Christmas Eve's are wet and some dry, but all are dark and cold in this area of Tijuana.

Near the orphanage we were driving to, we stopped and spent some time with a poor family we knew, living on a hillside. Lorie and her eight kids were working on a big pot of pozole soup. The soup was cooking outside over a hot wooden fire. Pozole is uniquely Mexican (pork, hominy, and jalapeno peppers). In fact most family's throw a lot of extras. A bowl of pozole would be their Christmas Eve meal treat ... no gifts under the tree this year!

When the three of us arrived they quickly pulled out some old chairs and gave us each a desert of store bought cake with a mix of whip-cream and fruit. The pozole wouldn't be ready for an hour or two.

For a few minuets we became part of a poor family doing Christmas Eve the way the poor do.

Of course we left them happy with their unexpected gifts. Mom now had enough money to think a few meals ahead.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

There are many ways to spell Christmas and many more ways to express this awesome occasion. God's love and light entered our world in the form of a humble baby; a baby born to start a revolution! The greatest gift man has ever been given yet this gift remains invisible to the majority of us. We recognize the occasion yet the reason for the occasion still eludes us.

To those of us who have caught the reason, Christmas is simply "Thank you Jesus time."

Children see Christmas so much differently than us adults. Children seem to express the joy and energy we once had, in a child you can see it and you can feel it. Raw joy!

We must never forget that Jesus entered the world poor to redeem the poor. We must not forget that the Gospel came first to the poor of this world!

Because I work in the Tijuana barrios I’m constantly reminded that the Gospel also came to those across the border locked in their darkness not by a fence ... but by ignorance and deception. They just don’t know!

Thanks for helping us bring the Gospel across the border in word and deed! Remember, eternal investments pay off big time! Keep us in your prayers and have a nice Christmas and New Years!

A NICE TALL KILLER

I always appreciate speaking to the people of LaRoca (The Rock) church in Tijuana. The church is located right where it should be, in Zone Norte; Tijuana's Red-Light district.

Last Sunday as I was leaving the Church service I saw Raul. I couldn't miss him, tall slender and rather handsome. Seeing him brought back memories from past years.

Carlos and I found a den of addicts floating in and out of a small group of trashy flop-houses down a small canyon along a smelly sewer like creek. Flop-houses they were, as the addicts would take a big hit they would flop there on the ground until they mellowed out a bit. We would bring them food and blankets. Among the group were Raul and his friends.

High above the set of shacks on the side of the canyon, was the drug dealer, he didn't particularly like us but he allowed us to come in if we didn't disturb the status quo.

Years later, upon Raul's conversion, we learned some disturbing news. Fortunately their plans went wrong.

Raul and a couple of his friends planned to kill us and take our money. Their weapons? Some golf clubs they had laying around.

This story serves as a reminder of the world and environment in which we work ... and how necessary your prayers of protection are.

YESTERDAY WE HAD A RIFA

After our workdays in Mexico we have a rifa, that's a raffle in Spanish. Each of the kids have a number on their hand and they crowd around the back of my car waiting for the numbers to be called and hoping it will be their lucky number. Hortensia shakes the jar of numbers, then holding the jar high, hands the jar to a lady or girl standing among the crowd to pick out a number.

Every one is silent as the number is called.

You can tell the kid with the correct number on his hand because of his smile and he's pushing to the front. It's his show. Now what prize will he choose? Everyone, including the mothers, helping him by calling out what he should choose. Yesterday the number of ten year-old Carlos was called. Carlos and his brothers and sisters are from a very poor family.

Carlos was beaming as he stood looking over all the goodies. He spotted the soccer ball. Yep, it was the soccer ball he wanted.  He had never had a soccer ball. As I handed the happy kid his soccer ball, I said "You can have this soccer ball OR FIVE DOLLARS ... which do you want?" Everyone started giving poor Carlos advice. The kids yelled "Soccer ball" the moms yelling "take the five dollars! He looked back at his mother and she was telling him take the money! Poor Carlos, he really wanted the ball! He looked at me, his ball, and the five-dollar bill ... smile gone, he looked up at me again and ever so slowly gave me the ball and took the five dollars and headed out of the crowd.

Well, what would you do in a situation like that? ... I called him back, and some of the kids brought him to the front again, He stood there looking rather puzzled. "Here Carlos" and I gave him the soccer ball too. For doing that I got a big smile and a special hug from a special kid, Carlos.

KING JAMES BIBLE

Years ago the King James Bible was pretty much the Bible of the Evangelicals ... then came a long parade of versions and translations. And for the most part, that was good, however we paid a price for this change. The price? A big drop in Bible verse memorizing. Today Bible memorizing is almost non existent. "Your Word have I hidden in my heart that I might not sin against you." (Psalms 119:11) That was one of the verses we memorized.

Many of us old timers grew up with Scripture memorizing programs. The old King James may have it's flaws but one thing could be said of it, it became the heart of Scripture memorizing.

Speaking of memorizing, It's so easy to forget the message of Isaiah 55:11 ... "My Word shall not return to Me empty or void." God's Word needs to get back into the heart of man, memorizing verses it seems, does just that.

Caution! As Christians, especially as preachers, speakers and teachers, we must never forget that it is God's Word He has promised to honor not ours.

I may become an eloquent speaker indeed, uttering meaningless ... noise. Beautiful noise. (1 Corinthians 13:1) I may be paid well and in demand ... it seems noise of this type is addictive. God honors HIS Word.

ALL GROWN UP

Street kids grow up, at least most do. They become adults making a bare parasitic existence living as an addict on the wrong side of right. In many ways it would be easy to type them. With few exceptions they end up in one of four dead ends. Killed. Jail or prison. Rehabs; houses of rehabilitation or street beggars. These men and women will couple and breed creating more dysfunctional “families.”

Remember the vast majority of street kids are born of dysfunctional families.

In the eyes of many these people are social trash!

Irritating parasites.

If I read my Scripture right, In the eyes of God the man pictured above is loved and redeemable! He has a value. He’s above and apart from the trash he’s embedded in. This man is the one Jesus loved and died for. Yet, he is lost and confused! Unloved.

Just suppose the man above came to your Church one Sunday morning, and just suppose he was seeking God. And let's just suppose he wanted to join you and attend the service.

How would the Believers in your church react to this worthless man reaching out to be loved?

Maybe we could rephrase the question. How Christian is your Church?

STONED

Last night I went where I shouldn't have gone.

I searched out YouTube ... Subject: Street Kids ... I should have known better. I've worked with street-kids for a half a century, plenty of them, right here in Tijuana. I've watched them in other countries as well. Why look at more?

I looked at street kids in India. Street kids in Brazil. Street kids in the Philippines and Mexico City. These worthless little imps are everywhere. Millions of them in this world. They are like leeches or fleas on sick urban societies.

Cops hate them because they are little thieves causing trouble wherever they nest and they will become the criminals of tomorrow.

Most of these kids have run from a "home" of sorts, tired of the constant fighting and abuse inside their shelter, they run, sometimes toddle to the hell awaiting them in the streets, where they find their own kind and integrate .. worthless dirty little two legged rodent's invading the streets of big cities.

One by one the kids realize they are worthless and unwanted. Being unloved mixes them into a different human chemistry, indeed social misfits.

I remember visiting a city in Brazil and where I was staying, word came of a mass grave that was discovered near us. The bodies of eleven kids, with their arms wired together were laying in their grave, each kid had been shot in back of the head. Professional exterminators. Problem solved.

In that city there was an understanding of how to deal with problem kids in your neighborhood. Call a privet phone number ... negotiate a cash deal. Late at night a black van with a few off duty police would cruse the neighborhood and collect and dispose of the "problem" kids.

It grabs you.

Looking at little kids sucking on plastic bags with some rubber cement inside ... or a couple of sprays from a can of spray paint. Eyes that once were looking at you take on a glassy stare, eyelids slowly drop as they enter a peaceful, restful world. I've seen it and it hurts. A four year old or five year old huffing, hurts bad!

Why do I look at even more of what I've already seen? It builds frustration and anger in me that combine to develop an energy that drives me on, to do more.

God knows I can't do it all, but I'm going to go down trying!

LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP

I've heard the term used and I thought I knew what this weird relationship was, I've even used the term before. . . . . but I have to admit I've never had a love, hate experience with anyone or anything.

Well, until now.

Now, day by day I'm being enlightened and starting to understand this "Love Hate" thing.

The evening of Friday the 13th. (Sept.) I was married to this big long black brace! I'm married to a big thing! The marriage was performed while I was happily unconscious. When I regained my awareness I found this brace clutching my right leg. Little by little I'm started to develop a hate for this new addition to my life. It's a thing. It's lifeless. We can't co-exist but yet we have to.

I sense my marriage is crumbling pretty early!

They obviously planned for a long marriage because it's on to stay ... thanks to the Velcro factor. And if anything can hold this relationship together it's Velcro!

The truth is, I need my big black brace to stand up and to walk around stiff legged. I'm afraid to be without it ... it's begging to become a part of me, but how I hate it.

Oh boy, nothing worse; house arrest with a "lady" I love and can't get along without ... yet hate with a passion.

I'm stuck in my first love hate relationship!

HE BLEW THE MAN AWAY

These two young boys and their mom have seen too much! A few days ago this little three-some found themselves in real need.

A sudden thing.

Mom and the two boys lived with their grandfather in his small house. It was evening when a drugged "malandro" (teen rogue) burst in their door. The two boys were on the couch watching TV when their grandfather came into the room with his shotgun. Words were exchanged, and grampa shot the malandro dead, right in the room. The young man was blasted dead, blood all over.

The two boys saw it all! They are still traumatized. The police came that night and put the grandfather in jail. After sorting it out the police released him to go home.

No one is living in the house now. Grandfather is on the run, disappeared.

Vengeance. The malandro's friends and family are looking for the old man. Tijuana justice will be done.

Mom and her two sons are in a bad way. That's why they have come to us for help. Please pray for these two boys.