12/10/06 MEMORIES OF COSTA RICA

Memories of Costa Rica: Disaster Relief , Telling the

Good News , & Teaching in the Rain Forest

MEMORIES OF COSTA RICA 12/10/06

Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing

them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy
Spirit” Matt 28:19
Good Morning My Friends in Christ !

From W. Sierra Madre, it is 7:05 a.m (pst) as I begin composing this

morning’s message, and the sun is rising. It rained last night—a rare
event in southern California—meaning the skies and mountains will be
very clear, also a rare event in southern California. Sierra Madre is
right alongside the foothills where the air sometimes stands still, so the
rain is good for this area, in particular. And I just had a coffee and a
“bear claw” with chocolate on it. I don’t recommend that to the kids for
breakfast but for myself it’s okay for now. I’ll eat more later. And
thanks to those of you who participated in my communion/Eucharist
service on December 7. I appreciate the sense of solidarity (oneness)
from that experience. Ironically, I didn’t even get a response from my
own dad (Jim Kok ), a Christian pastor. It makes me wonder sometimes.
C’mon dad. Aren’t we one in Christ?!

And I began preparing today’s message yesterday, down at the Central

Library in downtown Los Angeles. It’s a beautiful library with several
floors, a museum (associated with the Getty), escalators, elevators,
underground parking, etc. I only go there on Saturdays and Sundays
because that’s the only time you can park for $1.00 all day. Normally, to
park all day it would cost you from $12 to $20 dollars. So I go there
often on Saturday to prepare the Sunday Message, and sometimes on
Sunday to transmit the Sunday Message.

And thanks to some of you for responding to last week’s message:

“Memories of the Dominican Republic. Should Missionaries be Allowed
to Have Fun: Who Can Separate us from the Love of Christ?!”
Unfortunately, I lost Dwayne Thielke on that one, apparently that was a
little bit too much for him—I went too far—he’s a missionary in the
Philippines who I met when I was there in 1992—when he was living
close to the Hogan family. C’mon back Dwayne. Keep listening.

That was a fun message to prepare and to look back on those

spontaneous good times I had with Barb Wiersma, Steve Brinks, Audrey
Van Oen, and Eric Kooyer, as well as Ray & Gladys Brinks. And thanks
to Steve Brinks two older brothers, Dave & Dan, —one of whom I met
—and both of whom went to University of Michigan Law School. One of
them now is an associate professor at the University of Texas, Auburn;
and I’m not sure about the other. I remember visiting with one of them
in Lansing, MI when he was still working at a law firm there.

By the way, my brother, Andrew, also attended the University of

Michigan Law School in Ann Arbor. He was in his last year of law
school when I was beginning my first year of law school at Wayne State
in Detroit. Unlike Andy, I decided, or God decided, that I had a
HIGHER CALLING, and God pulled me out of there like a man
sinking into quicksand. God saved my life. That’s not to say it’s bad or
wrong to be a lawyer, but it’s not for everybody. And some stick with it
even when their conscience is telling them to get out.

Our conscience has a purpose. It’s like the nerves in our body. If we
ignore the signals of pain when our skin is being burned we will lose our
skin or more. If we ignore physical pain signals we risk losing our
physical lives. Likewise, if we ignore spiritual signals we risk losing our
spirituality—our walk with God. Paradoxically, in terms of spirituality
(unlike physical pain) —sometimes “pain” is a good sign. Albeit in
physical conditioning for a long time the notion “no pain, no gain” was a
motto for body builders. Whether that notion was actually legitimate is
arguable. For building bigger muscles, maybe yes, but in terms of
physical health, maybe not. But in terms of spiritually—pain is
sometimes necessary to break out of our comfortable, but regressive,
comfort zones. Unfortunately, not everybody breaks out of those zones.

And the larger problem is that their regression causes other systems to
be stifled and fail to progress. This is especially damaging to systems
where young people depend upon progress daily for their own personal
growth, such as in our schools, both public & Christian (or private).

Spiritual pain is often associated with growth because pain is often

accompanied by leaving our comfort zones. I’ve left so many comfort
zones behind in my lifetime that I don’t think that much about the pain
anymore. It’s just there, and eventually gets left behind. But then I
might fall into a new comfort zone and I have to make a decision to get
up and go or acquiesce to the local norms. So far I have kept on going.

One example of leaving my comfort zone was going to Costa Rica in

1991. That was in the Spring. I had left Wayne State Law School in
November of 1990. I had been there for a few months and had been
living with a roommate by the name of Timothy Maat from Holland,
MI, and a graduate of Dordt College in Sioux City, Iowa.

I had worked at Pine Rest Christian Psychiatric Hospital for a year

prior. Having been a psychology major and considering graduate school
in psychology I wanted to get psychology experience. Pine Rest
happened to be close by to Calvin College and also happened to be
where my dad had worked as a chaplain for fourteen years until 1984
when we moved to Southern California.

After that year at Pine Rest (a very interesting year) I had been
accepted into law school and was preparing to move to Detroit when I
got a call from this kid named Maat. Or maybe his parents called, I
don’t remember. For me, being done with college I was feeling like an
adult and very independent and was ready to live on my own at that
time—having already checked out housing around Detroit; but the
Maats asked if I wanted a roommate to cut costs, and said they already
had school housing reserved—with need for a roommate for their son,
Timothy.

I wasn’t sure, but Tim was a decent economical factors came into my
mind and I reluctantly agreed to my chagrin later on. fellow—tall kid,
but didn’t even have his own car. He relied upon me for everything—
shopping, etc. I wasn’t used to that sort of closeness, especially with
another fellow (as opposed to a gal) and as law school began I was
already feeling “cooped” up. Suddenly I was around a kid I didn’t know
much about other than that he came from the Reformed tradition like
myself—for 24/7 (i.e. 24 hours a day, seven days a week). I should have
forked out the extra dough and got my own apartment.

By the end of October I was at the point of depression—not just the

living arrangement but the study of law was not that compelling to me. I
hit the books every day—going to the library often, and sitting in all the
classes listening to the lectures; but I wasn’t finding any joy there.
Occasionally I played basketball with some of the law students at the
Wayne State gym, including a Polish kid named Galbenski—who was
from Detroit; and Galbenski was a social fellow who showed us around
town—but by the end of October I was getting ready to leave. And so I
finally made the decision to terminate my study of the law.

I got in the car ---my little blue Toyota Celica—and headed back to
Grand Rapids where I had a few things stored. I planned to say farewell
to a few people, including Doug Kosters—and then head west. I had
been living on Kalamazoo Ave for that year prior to law school with
Kevin Vredeveld, Dan Dekam, and Jack Holwerda.

When we moved out, Dave Dejong, an acquaintance from grade school

took over the house with some of his classmates from RBC (Reformed
Bible College). I stopped at that house—said farewell to Dave Dejong &
Steve Korhorn and then I met Doug Kosters over at Pietros for coffee.
Little did I know that it would be the last time I would see Doug.

Doug related to me that he was having difficulties. He was still studying

to go to seminary. He was living with a few other seminary students.
Prior to that he had told me he had been to Pine Rest for counseling.
Apparently he was depressed. I didn’t realize how depressed he was. He
covered the bill as he often did—apparently feeling like he had more
money than others because he was able to work for his dad who owned
a paint company—whenever he needed cash. And that was it. I said
farewell.

I had known Doug since church nursery—all the way through high
school and a little bit of college. He had not taken the “straight track” to
Calvin College, or through Calvin College. He had gone to junior college
for a few years to get things straightened out, but seemed to be finally
clarifying his direction, or so I thought.

I headed west and made it to Denver where I visited with my Uncle Jay
& Aunt Mary—who have lived there most of their lives. They let me
stay overnight and use their car to go skiing. They thought I might have
trouble with my own car in the snow—they thought it might be too light,
and without chains I would have trouble. That was nice of them. I spent
the day skiing.

Then I went back to Denver, got in my Celica and headed west towards
Los Angeles. I was feeling great to be out of Michigan for a while and
great to have made a critical decision, even though leaving law school
behind was leaving a potentially comfortable career behind. I didn’t
have a plan. I just went. Arriving in Bellflower (where my parents live) I
unpacked a few things and contemplated what I might do next.

I had graduated with honors from a great college so I had a lot of

options even if law school was not really one of them anymore. I knew
also in the back of my mind that I had a Higher Calling, but seminary
still represented more of a threat and obstacle to me rather than
something inviting and necessary.
I hung around Bellflower for a few months—getting to know some of
the college kids and post-college kids at Bethany Christian Reformed
Church where my grandfather Kok and his wife also attended. This
included John Kortenhoven (Calvin College grad) , Jim Zoetewey (who
had attended but not graduated from Calvin College), Ron Vandevegte,
Judy & Doug Boerigter, Jim Tanis ( Calvin College grad), and several
others. A

And they had a fellowship group called “Koinonia” which I joined.

Others from nearby attended Koinonia including a boy named Joel
Slenk—who had also graduated from Calvin College. Later I would
meet his younger brother, Jerome, now a teacher at Ada Elementary
School in Michigan. The Slenks parents had both been professors at
Calvin College –in the Music Department and Mr Slenk was best known
for conducting the annual Messiah concert/choir performance at the
downtown Civic Auditorium (or DeVos Hall).

I got to know these kids a little bit and we fellowshipped together for a
while but I was starting to get restless. I needed to do something, to go
somewhere. It was about that time that an earthquake hit Costa Rica
(Spring of 1991) and I was ready to help out. In the back of my mind I
also knew that Barb Wiersma was teaching there in San Jose, Costa
Rica—and thought maybe I would run into her down there. She was not
my girlfriend, but for a while we were a little more than just social
friends. That was back in Grand Rapids—and prior to that we had first
met in Spain—on our semester in Spain with Calvin College (see the
message from a few weeks ago). Barb kept popping up in the same
places as myself. So a relationship had developed.

But she was definitely thinking marriage at the time and I was still
thinking—finish law school. When I said “wait” she considered it a
“NO” and a rejection of her. She was not thinking clearly—totally at an
emotional level. And that’s what ended our relationship. I thought she
would see things more clearly later on but then she went on to Costa
Rica. By that time I was working at Pine Rest and had begun a
relationship with Kim Kooiker, a local gal who had graduated recently
from Calvin College. I didn’t hear from Barb again—no letters, no
phone calls.

So I’m in Bellflower and I hear about Costa Rica. I knew we had

missionaries there and volunteered to go. They flew me into San Jose
and I was met by the Posts-Tom & Melva—his wife from Belize. Tom
was from Grandville, Michigan, and Melva was from Belize. Tom had
gone into the Peace Corps at the age of 30 and had met Melva in Belize
when she was only fourteen years old.

They hit it off—and having a relationship with somebody so young in

some countries is not considered unusual. IN fact, Tom decided, at the
age of 30, to marry Melva when she was still fourteen or fifteen. They
apparently got married in Belize and stayed there for a while. Later
Tom became involved with in missions, supported by the denomination.

By the time I met Tom & his wife Melva they had three sons (including
David and two others whose names I do not recall) and one daughter
(Rachel) as well as an adopted daughter, Mirtha—or had taken her in as
“god parents.” The oldest son was David and he was in high school at
the time. The Post family was living in San Jose and Tom was the
director for world missions for Central America.

They were nice enough to me—showing me around town and also

organizing disaster relief efforts. We traveled together through the
stricken areas of Costa Rica and navigated through broken roads and
drove through a few shallow rivers where bridges were down. We did a
“needs assessment” trip and prepared to return with the supplies
needed most—and the ones the denomination could afford to purchase
and donate. IT was a very educational experience for me as I learned
more about doing a needs assessment. I was assigned to be the
cameraman.

And, as you can see for yourself, there was extensive damage. Lots of
bridges down. Many demolished houses and buildings. IN some cases
the houses had been knocked off their supports or stilts—which many of
them were built upon in the affected areas due to the annual floods. The
stilts kept the houses above the waters when the floods came.

They actually have to jack up the houses and put blocks and posts under
them. The earthquake knocked them right off their elevating materials
and in one case—a missionary home had fell on top of their own car—a
land rover which they parked underneath their home. It was while we
were helping the missionary family that a landslide covered one end of a
tunnel, blocking our way out for several hours.

Tom had a decent working knowledge of the Spanish language and was
able to understand what the locals were saying better than some of us. I
know Spanish decently but at that time had not used it in a while and
was therefore not very good at comprehension and translation.

After a while doing needs assessment, we returned to San Jose and

Kathy Van Til, a missionary’s wife from Grand Rapids, began putting
together supplies. I helped a little but ended up doing other things,
including getting to know San Jose and the people, along with the help
of Mirtha. Mirtha was a nice gal, college age, but had not yet been to
college. Later she went to Calvin College and got her nursing degree. I
do not know where she is today. She showed me around—and was able
to speak both English & Spanish very fluently.

Meanwhile, I bumped into Barb Wiersma once and only once—she was
teaching there along with Janet Ludema—another Calvin College
graduate and acquaintance. Janet was staying at the home of a
missionary couple—who were gone for a few months, and Janet invited
me to stay at their home there. I stayed for a little while but eventually
moved back to the Posts house. I socialized with Janet & Barb but Barb
had become another person. She was no longer somebody I knew—truly
knew.

She was not like the person you see in the pictures from the Dominican
Republic or even in Spain. She was a different person. When I hear of
stories of people being “possessed” and how families have had to pull a
loved one of an occult experience, sometimes forcibly, I think of Barb.
She was not acting like somebody I knew. The sense of familiarity was
gone. And the “natural affection” was gone as well. I had hoped to give
her a sense of my affection and concern for her but she was not
listening. She was not receptive. She wasn’t rude or mean-spirited, just
absent—or vacant, as if she had turned off an emotional part of herself.

Janet, too, was changing. She was still nice to me but was not exactly the
same person I knew from Calvin College. I didn’t know what to think. It
may have been that Janet & Barb had gotten involved with Costa Rican
boys or young men, and that their romantic or sensual relationships
were causing them to change their outlook and natural affection. It
seemed like a loss of their American loyalties, and I wasn’t sure about
their Christian walk anymore. I can’t say I was a perfect person but I
was still walking in Christ and for Christ. I hoped they still were too.

Nonetheless, with the change of personalities I knew I couldn’t stay

around for very long. I had to make a decision to either return to the
USA or find something meaningful and constructive to do around Costa
Rica. The disaster relief only lasted so long. Kathy Van Till led the way
after the needs assessment and seemed to be doing well on her own with
the help of a few locals. I had done my part in that regard.

The Post family suggested I look for a job in San Jose and stay for a
while. They even suggested teaching English. That’s what Janet & Barb
were doing. I looked in the Tico Times (the local newspaper, in English)
for possible jobs and came across something about a need for a
tutor/teacher in Drake Bay, which meant nothing to me. I didn’t know
the country that well. Drake Bay, it turned out, was in a remote area of
southern Costa Rica, accessible only by boat. I called the number and
talked to a fellow by the name of Herb Merchant—an American from
Wisconsin, now living in Costa Rica. He was in his 70’s and married to a
younger Tica (female Costa Rican). They had a few kids together, two of
whom, Brian & Adrian, were now elementary school age and needed a
teacher. He said there was a local school but he wanted better education
for them, including English education.

Later, he offered me the job and after some equivocation about staying
in Costa Rica I finally decided to give it a try. There was nothing
binding me there if it didn’t work out. I took a bus as far as I could and
from there was met by a boat, and taken to Drake Bay Wilderness
(Tourist) Camp (see http://www.drakebay.com/ ).

Herb had started the camp with his wife, and tourists came from all
over to see the nearby rainforest, go fishing, explore, and relax. Nearby
was Corcovado National Park (see
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corcovado_National_Park )—well known
by biologists, zoologists, professors, etc as a preserved Rain Forest
ecosystem—with lots of wildlife and nature to observe and study,
including the Scarlet Macaws and Toucans that frequently flew
overhead. But also a variety of other species—lots of monkeys, including
Howler monkeys, and the 3-Toed Sloth,the giant ant-eater (evidence of
which we saw but did not actually see the animal itself) among other
things. It was an eye-opening experience for me. There were no cars
here. No roads. People walked, rode horses, or traveled by small boats.

My real reason for going to Costa Rica was “religious.” IN addition to

the disaster relief—or more so than the disaster relief was the
evangelistic fervor within me. I carried Christian tracts and was ready
to speak about Jesus at a moments notice. I wanted to tell the Good
News. I would have been ready to start a church there in the Osa
Peninsula where Drake Bay was—had the opportunity arisen. But I was
now a teacher for Brian & Adrian and did that for several months—
every morning from 8 to 1 with a break for lunch, four days a week. In
my spare time I went swimming, fishing, horseback riding, and helped
the tourists, as I got to know the area myself. I hung out with some of
the locals and they showed me around as well.

Every morning Melanie & her assistants would make a good breakfast,
and later they would make an even better lunch. I didn’t get paid too
much—it was not financially lucrative, but it was a good experience and
I had enough to make ends meet. Melanie was much younger than Herb
—and it was not an uncommon situation. Some Costa Ricans (or maybe
Central Americans in general) apparently yearn to marry Americans—
even if they are much older. It’s a practical decision more than love at
first sight, to be honest; to better themselves.

So I stayed around Drake Bay Wilderness Camp until mid –August. I

did a little bit of evangelism, and a lot of teaching, as well as exploring.
Lots of wildlife—the monkeys and the birds especially, but also the Blue
Morpho butterflies (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morpho_butterfly )
–and a few more dangerous elements—scorpions & deadly snakes,
among other things. Fortunately, I didn’t get afflicted by any of these
predators.

And I happened to be there at the right time ! In July (July 11 ?) there

was a Total Solar Eclipse in the middle of the day—and we were able to
observe it—the clouds parted at just the right time and we had our
special spectacles ready—and it turned dark as night—or almost—for
several minutes. Wow! What an experience !

Being so close to nature and exposed to the elements also awakens one’s
spiritual appreciation. The beauty of God’s creation was no more
obvious than here in the rainforest. And our dependence upon each
other was also heightened. Sometimes you would just jump in a boat
without really asking as much as simply depending—they would later
jump in your boat for a taxi ride. And with the rainy season from
September to December or thereabouts –it’s like “winter” in the
Midwest or East coast—it can rain anytime, anywhere, and sometimes
torrentially. I was gone before the real rainy season but did experience
some of the rainy days prior to leaving.

And the trip broadened my horizons—more experience as a missionary

or with missionaries and more experience in a different culture. Each
experience has valuable effects on me and on others. My interaction
with other people, other cultures, other languages strengthens me IN
CHRIST, and I believe that others interactions with me strengthens
them—sometimes in Christ other times just in general—giving them
broader horizons as well.

It struck me that part of what I do as a substitute teacher is also the

“interactional” experience—as much as, or sometimes more so than the
obvious teaching element (i.e. “What is 2 + 2?” , “What is a noun?”, )
The interaction with others IN CHRIST, and with me IN CHRIST has a
“ripple effect”—even if, sometimes Jesus is not always mentioned
verbally. Sometimes it is just the spontaneous interaction alone that has
effects.

If Herb was a Christian he didn’t talk about it. Like a lot of Americans
his age they believe “talk is cheap” and so you didn’t get a lot out of
him. His talk was his tourist camp—that was his “trophy.” He had
worked in construction back in Wisconsin for most of his life, and
apparently had a daughter back in Wisconsin as well. She came and
visited once—she was in her late teens at the time, and she was
pregnant, not married. I don’t know what Herb had in mind but he
seemed to be trying to engineer something between her and myself. And
she was a nice enough gal but nothing happened between us. She
returned to Wisconsin and I don’t know what happened to her.

Today, I pray for Herb & Melanie. Melanie, especially, was a sweet-
spirited lady. Herb was a businessman, making business decisions.
Sometimes he pulled out a handgun to scare the wild dogs away from
the area. These were skinny dogs—apparently without homes and he
didn’t like them. So he would shoot up in the air to try to scare them. At
least he didn’t shoot at them.

I returned to the United States around the end of August and planned to
begin attending Calvin Seminary. More about that later. By the way,
I’ve told you about it before, but back to the months between leaving
law school and going to Costa Rica—in December 1990 Doug Kosters
commit suicide. I was at the parents home in Bellflower when I got a call
from Dave Dejong who was crying—he said to me ‘Doug killed himself,
Doug killed himself.”

For those of you who do not know –Doug shot himself in the head with a
shot gun in the basement of the home he was living at—his roommates
were Calvin Seminary students. I flew back for the funeral, helped
carry the casket to the grave, and shared the moments with some
friends and the Koster family. Even Lisa Korf ( the queen of our high
school class, 1985) showed up. But a lot of people didn’t. I would have
liked to see more people from school and church present at the funeral.
This is in memory of Doug—a great kid.

AND NOW LET US BEGIN

THE FORMAL WORSHIP SERVICE:

Prayer: Dear God, Thank you for this day! The birds are chirping. I
hear some parrots flying overhead. Your Presence is real. You are the
Great Provider and the Guide. Your Holy Spirit in our lives is what
leads us, indwells us, gives us the words & thoughts each and every day
to create peace—Christian peace, not fake peace. Help us be bearers of
Your Will, not ours, Oh Lord. Thank You. In Christ’s name we pray.
Amen.

Song: Rock of Ages

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/r/o/rockages.htm

Song: Send the Fire

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/s/e/sendfire.htm

Scripture: Matt 28:19-20

Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the
name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them
to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you
always, even to the end of the age." Amen.

And the story above is a lot of my message for today. I just began
writing spontaneously this morning and let the story tell itself. There are
no embellishments above. What I tell you is what I observed,
empirically—with my own spiritual interpretation included. And every
time I tell the story, clarification occurs. I remember things I didn’t
remember before. I see things I didn’t see before. And I hope you tell the
story too—tell your story and tell my story. Our stories together are
God’s story, and as we tell them, something happens. God’s grace is
infused into our stories and
we BECOME ONE.

You identify with parts of my story and I identify with parts of your
story and we BECOME ONE. Not all at once, and never completely.
WE retain some of our own personal identity and our own story but
some of what we say, tell, and do, overlaps, and we become more
compassionate individuals. We broaden our horizons and the small
world we live in becomes a little bigger, and bigger. TALK IS NOT
CHEAP ! Not in this regard.

Jesus told us to “Go” and that’s what we must continue to do. If we

don’t “GO” we “go back”, or regress. And that is not tolerable. We must
learn from the past and apply that to the future to make it better, for the
KINGDOM OF GOD ! WE must never lose hope. WE must always
TRUST GOD. His PROVIDENCE reigns.

Going to Costa Rica in 1991 was a risk. I had never been there before. I
didn’t know if I would be received with graciousness and a spirit of
hospitality, but I was and I thank the people of Costa Rica (The Ticos
and the Ticas) and say “Pura Vida” (which means “Pure Life” in
English and is their motto ). We can all live the pure life—everywhere—
not just in Costa Rica. But you have to be willing to “GO” and the
“pure life” should not be thought of in “racial” language. A lot of racism
is thought of as “pure” but it is the exact opposite of it. Every time we
“go” and tell the story we broaden our horizons and others horizons are
broadened likewise.
The couple who came to Costa Rica from Grandville, Michigan—their
horizons were broadened, even though they did not particularly like me.
My bias against Grandville was slightly changed just because of my
interaction with this elderly couple who had the gumption to get up and
come to Costa Rica from the tiny, very conservative (or seemingly so)
village of Grandville, MI. (I LOVE YOU GRANDVILLE !).

They were willing to do something—even though they knew no English

nor knew nothing about Costa Rica. They just knew that people needed
help and that they had missionaries there. What they were not willing to
do, however, was speak Spanish or become assimilated to the culture.
Barb & Janet were willing to do so, more than others. They even went
so far as to have Costa Rican boyfriends. How far should we go as
missionaries and Christians in terms of compromising our cultural
norms and outlook? That’s a missiological question.

And I pray for my enlarged community—the people I met in Costa Rica

—Herb & Melanie, and for my former friends Barb Wiersma and Janet
Ludema, and for the Posts—Tom & Melva and their children. It’s not
easy for missionary kids to grow up abroad—and have a dual sense of
identity (and sometimes more than that) —part American, part Costa
Rican (or Belize, or wherever)—it really makes one identify with simply
being “Christian” –-without a nation of one’s own. Perhaps somewhat
like the Jewish people feel—the difference being that we have a Savior
even if we do not have a home or homeland. Pray for our missionaries
and their children.

And keep the Brinks family in mind as well. Ray & Gladys are now
retired and living in Falsmouth, Michigan—a nice home alongside a
river there. Ray loves to go fishing, in addition to being a fisher of men
for so many years. I’m sure he’s a “fisher of men” at heart still. And
Steve is teaching elementary school in Grand Rapids at Alexander
Elementary School. His two brothers as I mentioned have law careers,
one at University of Texas, Austin. Keep them in mind.

Sometimes kids react with hostility to their Christian upbringing in the

homes of missionaries or the homes of pastors. My own father was a
Christian pastor. His father was a Christian pastor. It’s not always
perfect peace & bliss in these homes. And not all parishioners truly care
about the pastor or their kids. Some parishioners use the pastor & their
family in a utilitarian manner. Nobody should “use” anybody in a
utilitarian manner.

Let’s respect each other in a wholistic manner, truly respecting and

acknowledging the gifts each has being made in the Imago Deo (Image
of God). Let’s respect gifts more than anything else. Don’t deny people’s
gifts for self-serving reasons.

Some cultures are better at recognizing and acknowledging gifts than

others. In our culture sometimes the person with the Ph.D. says “I don’t
care what your gifts are, I have the Ph.D, and you don’t.” Don’t do that.
That’s not Christian.

That’s not the meaning of the Kingdom and the Body of Christ. If that’s
all you amount to—go work in secular society. The Christian society is
(or should be) different. And so we GO and we interact with others and
we tell the Good News verbally or in body language. We give gifts. We
leave the Spirit –the fruits of which are “love, joy, peace, patience,
kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. Against
such things there is no law.” (Galatians 5. 22-23)

Prayer: Dear God, I’ve told a little bit more about my story today. And
my story is Your Story. And YOUR STORY is everybody’s story. Let
those who read my story read it with a spirit of graciousness and
kindness. And let them tell their story so that we may all come to know
each other a little bit better. And let us not be afraid to get up and
“GO.” We have a purpose here on earth, God—You have given it to us!
Let us BELIEVE and TRUST. And them simply GO !

And that’s the end of my message today. Please browse the photo-essay.
And I hope the photos upload properly—they don’t always do so.
Always look at the bottom for attachments as well. And as we near
Christmas my friends I encourage you to find new ways to spread the
Spirit to people, far and near. Be creative. Take risks.

Song: All Things Praise Thee

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/a/t/atpraiset.htm

Song: The Way of the Cross Leads Home

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/w/a/waycross.htm
J.P. Kok
Pastor Kok III, vanderKOK