Now first of all, the wrecked ship needs restoring and repairing. The damaged hulk will have to be dragged off the rocks and hauled to a safe place for rebuilding and restoring. No such place may be available, which is not unusual. There are generally few resources to cover the costs of the time and money involved. There is often absolutely no help at all.

Christian leaders may actually want to be out from underneath the pressures that go with ministry. They may create a crisis, even on an subconscious level, which effectively forces an end to a ministry. This, in fact, describes many leadership failures. In such circumstances, the minister may eventually, after rebuilding, long to be back in action—somehow, somewhere.

Most people do not realize the pressures weighing on a minister, especially the pastor of a congregation. The pastor/teacher is carrying a load that few are aware of. Pastors rarely feel as though they are succeeding and are mostly aware of what is not getting done. They are painfully acquainted with people who are hurting and whom they do not seem to be able to help and encourage. Other care giving professionals rely on creating distance from those they serve, but this does not work in Christian ministry. The load is upon the shoulders, and it never lets up. How many pastors actually commit suicide is unknown, but from what I have gathered, it is a small but quantifiable percentage, nevertheless. It is then obvious the size of the rebuilding job that may be necessary.

There are many ways to serve our Lord Jesus other than pastoring a church. Though the church is a vital venue for service, it is not the only one. It may be publishing, writing, evangelism, serving abroad in difficult places; it may be as simple as handing bulletins to worshipers on Sunday morning. Over the years, I have found a number of those who were drummed out of the professional ministry, and some of them for good reason, who created businesses of one kind or another and therein found ways to count and witness. Whatever it may be, there will be a place to work for the Kingdom. The manager of the vineyard will find work for any who want it, even for those who show up late.

Our concern here now is rebuilding and restoration. I have learned that healing from a catastrophic collapse is not simply accomplished. Perhaps it will be a lonely and private struggle, as some Christian communities practice effective shunning techniques. Or, due to circumstances, there may be no time or money for such.

Ministers who must suddenly leave their place of employment are often without resources. What then? Here is where the internet might be helpful. If drugs or alcohol are involved, there are Twelve Step programs, which can be wonderful. These folks know what it is to stumble and to do so badly. They will be welcoming and affirming. Within the broad range of groups within the Twelve Step family are also groups that involve issues other than substance abuse. And there are men’s groups of all sorts. Some of these can be discovered on MeetUp.com.

There are Christian congregations that have mature believers who can be counted on, even among churches that are Christ-centered and biblically faithful. Christianity is far from a cookie-cutter phenomenon. It takes searching, asking, phoning, whatever it takes—but the point is, no one can do it alone. Even those who take up a monkish lifestyle and head for the desert or a mountain to pray, meditate, reflect, repent, and go back to basics—this is only a beginning. The Church, the blood-bought community of faith, that gathering where Jesus walks in its midst, is the place of ultimate healing.

After a crisis some Christian leaders fall apart and apparently, seemingly, depart from the faith. I have seen plenty of this. I had also seen that some of these “fallen” often make a comeback at some point. This is more often the case than one of no return. Once born again from above and one is a son or daughter of God, this does not change. Parents know that whatever happens, their kids are still their kids. Is it not so with the Father—does He not continue to love His erring and damaged children? Will He not lead them out of sin and its consequences and into green pastures? You know the answer, at least in your head if not in your heart.

Let us examine, briefly, some helpful passages of Scripture that speak to our issue.

James 5:19–20 reads:

[19] My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, [20] let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. (ESV)

James, half-brother of Jesus, who many think was the first pastor of the first Christian congregation in Jerusalem, whose letter is likely the very first inspired document to emerge from the Christian Church, speaks to the issue of shipwreck very directly. The “if” in the first sentence is a conditional clause of the third class and is predicting the high probability of an event where someone wanders from the truth. To wander or stray from the truth is certainly a shipwreck scenario. Pastor James was concerned about such brother and sisters and encourages members of the flock to bring them back, the result of which is of the highest good.

James does not consider these wandering sheep as hopelessly lost at all. Perhaps echoing the teaching of the Good Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine and goes out searching for the single lost lamb, he actually concludes his general pastoral letter with this beautiful, sensitive, and realistic admonition.

In 1 Timothy 3:1–13, we find Paul’s qualifications for overseers and deacons. The lists are formidable indeed: above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money, a good manager of his household, have submissive children, not a recent convert, well thought of by non-Christians, dignified, not double-tongued, not addicted to much wine, not greedy, having a thorough understanding of the Faith, tested beforehand so as to prove themselves blameless, and with wives who are dignified, not slanderers, sober-minded, and faithful in all things.

It might also be helpful to look at 1 Thessalonians 4:1–12 as well.

My thinking is that if anyone of us in Christian leadership was to sober-mindedly examine these qualifications, we would have to resign immediately. The calling is extraordinarily high, and this is in addition to loving the Lord our God with all we are and our neighbor as ourselves!

As I write this section, I cannot help but say to myself, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Isaiah 6:5) Then the angel of God assured Isaiah, to whom the words were directed, that by the grace and mercy of God he was forgiven and by that grace he would fulfill his calling.

By my own strength I can only fail. Though appearing outwardly like I am faithful and obedient, I would know, and I do know, that I do not measure up. Though I may often be briefly commendable, to be honest, I do not qualify. The issue is that no one does, and those who do not know this about themselves are like a mine in the minefield. Am I too harsh in my judgment after fifty-two years in pastoral ministry? I think not.

Luke 23:13–25

Find a quiet place, alone and apart from distractions. Be comfortably alert, still, and at peace. Say the Lord’s Prayer. Sing or cant the Jesus Prayer. Pray for family, friends, neighbors, and yourself. Slowly and carefully read the passages of Scripture.

1.         Again the chief priests and the rulers, and now including “the people,” are before Pilate, the Roman procurator of Judea.

2.         Pilate declares, that after examining Jesus, he finds no fault in Him, and this for the second time. And Pilate says that in addition, Herod had found no fault either.

3.         Pilate hopes to assuage the Jesus’ accusers by punishing Him, and Matthew, Mark, and John say this is a scourging, which often resulted in the death of the one badly beaten.

4.         The opposers say no to this, they want Him crucified, which is the meaning of “away with this man.”

Instead they want a man named Barabbas, a name that means “son of a father” or could also mean “Rabbi” to be set free instead.

5.         Barabbas had led an insurrection against Rome, many others had done the same, and he would have been crucified had not the tradition of releasing a person sentenced to death on the Feast of Passover been fulfilled by releasing him.

6.         Pilate then for a third time tried to release Jesus, saying again that he could find no fault in Him. But His opponents screamed to have Him crucified.

7.         Pilate gave in, had Barabbas freed, and then gave Jesus over to His enemies. This took place about 8am on Friday morning.

Hello Everyone,

Almost 15 years ago I started to write an essay titled “Why I Decided Not to Kill Myself.” It was a time, after my second divorce, that I began to be haunted with thoughts about committing suicide. After setting out my experiences on paper, it occurred to me that others might be going through the same thing I was.  

Therefore, I sent out, via email, an invitation to others to send me a short piece about their struggles. And some came in. 

Now, taking up where I left off those years ago, my wife Katie and I have pretty much finished what we call a booklet with that very title. And then we thought we would send out an invitation to others to send us a short description of their struggles with thoughts of ending their lives.

This booklet is Christian oriented because it was my relationship with Jesus that kept me alive. 

If you would like to send in a short account of your own struggles, we welcome it, and you would not have to include your name. Send it to kentphilpott@comcast.net. Kent and Katie Philpott

Hello Everyone,

Almost 15 years ago I started to write an essay titled “Why I Decided Not to Kill Myself.” It was a time, after my second divorce, that I began to be haunted with thoughts about committing suicide. After setting out my experiences on paper, it occurred to me that others might be going through the same thing I was.  

Therefore, I sent out, via email, an invitation to others to send me a short piece about their struggles. And some came in. 

Now, taking up where I left off those years ago, my wife Katie and I have pretty much finished what we call a booklet with that very title. And then we thought we would send out an invitation to others to send us a short description of their struggles with thoughts of ending their lives.

This booklet is Christian oriented because it was my relationship with Jesus that kept me alive. 

If you would like to send in a short account of your own struggles, we welcome it, and you would not have to include your name. Kent and Katie Philpott

I often feel guilty when I am with others who know what kind of person I have been.

Wish this was not true of me, but I have to admit this will happen to me. For years now I have avoided those who knew full well what a jerk I have been. Seems though now that I am easing up on this guiltiness, in fact, in recent sermons I have even mentioned this.

Yes, two weeks ago, last Sunday in April of 2023 I mentioned one of my divorces and how badly I felt about it even to the point of resigning from the church I now pastor and disappear into the world. I was amazed at two people, one man and one woman, who looked intently at me and nodded their heads in agreement. And I knew both of their pasts and I think it was a relief for them to hear this from me, and from the pulpit.

I wonder how many people there are like me who could no longer face a congregation who knew the truth. Okay, I know it may be argued that it is better to keep silence, but then again, maybe not.

Is it not true that all have sinned? And I am not talking about only our pre-Christian lives, but ongoing lives as well.

Right now I am thinking of what happened with those who believed in John Wesley, founder of the Methodist church movement, when toward the close of his life he said it was possible to live a sinless life, which then spawned the holiness movement. It was not long  before some of the ordained leaders of this off-shoot of Methodism failed. Indeed, some of the leaders proved they were not all that holy, and though the history is convoluted and complex, it spooned the Pentecostal movement. So the great gift of the Holy Spirit became speaking in tongues. And in my opinion, this was a step in the right direction.

Some may say, well Philpott, you are given out a license to sin, or you are saying that it is not a big deal if a Christian, especially a Christian leader, sins. Absolutely not, we are called to walk in the footsteps of Jesus and flee from sin. And especially for those of us called to the work. Yet, I know that I am not without blame, I know I am vulnerable to attack. Let me say that I face temptation each and every day. Most of the time I am able to turn away from sin, and I am not talking about the big stuff, but little stuff like tooting my own horn, exaggerating something I did not did not do, making excuses to avoid difficulties, failing to follow though on ministry to someone I knew needed encouragement, not pouring myself into the preparation for the Sunday sermon, and on and on I could go.

Do I ever have sexual temptation? Certainly I do, goes with the territory. Such is not sinful, but could be a step in the wrong direction. Porn, hmmm, anyone reading this guilty here? A large percentage of Christian men in particular, but women too, so engage. It is a powerful and twisted impulse. Every so often a man, almost always a male, will feel safe enough with me to tell me of their compulsion. A case of this occurred two and half weeks ago. Porn addiction is probably one of the major stumbling blocks we face today. More are messed up over perverse sexuality than ever before. It stares in the face daily.

1 Peter 5:8 is a verse that has been in mind for a couple of years now. “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” Based on lots of pastoral experience, I have come to see that the one who insists he or she is not vulnerable is. In fact, most vulnerable.

Indeed, we have to tell ourselves the truth, we have to admit our weaknesses, and be quick to ask our forgiving Lord for forgiveness and also those whom we might have harmed.

It is no simple thing to be a follower of Jesus in this sin scarred world we live in. We are called to be honest with ourselves, with others, and the God to whom we pray.

Chapter 6

Byron is still a small farming community in a bend in the road between Brentwood and Tracy off Highway 4 in Contra Costa County. A large subdivision was developed there called Discovery Bay, but that was long after I was gone. In fact, the Excelsior Baptist Church disappeared long ago, although the old building is yet standing that once housed the Excelsior School followed by the church.

Toward the end of my first year as a seminarian, I had a strong urge to pastor a church. Pastoring was what we “young lions” were constantly talking about. We were either going to be missionaries or pastors, one or the other for sure. I wanted to pastor.

The seminary often posted announcements of churches looking for a pastor. Someone called my attention to that, I made a call to Joe Smith, the area missionary for Contra Costa County, which was east of Marin, and he offered me the chance to preach at the Excelsior Baptist Church in Byron. Was I ever excited, and I went right to work on a sermon that I was sure would clinch the deal. I was right, and quickly they “called” me as pastor and gave me a salary of $20 per week.

I think my first day as pastor of the little church was in July of 1966. The congregation was tiny; I remember some of the folks there: Al and Ruby Belah and Hartman Shelton were the deacons. The Belahs had one daughter, and the Sheltons had two, Pam and Rhonda. (When Pam was a senior, she had no one to take her to the senior prom at Liberty High School in Brentwood, although she was a wonderful and attractive person. Hartman asked me to take his daughter to it, since I was only twenty-four.) I came to love this family, and they were faithful to me the whole time. There was also Ruby Bauguss, the Lansfords, and especially Lorraine and Myron Williams. They took special care of their seminary pastor, of which they had had quite a few. I got the chance to preach twice a week and did not have to attend even one business meeting, which is not a small thing.

On October 2, 1966, the church ordained me, and Bob Lewis, my pastor from First Baptist Church of Fairfield, California, preached the ordination sermon. My dad made the trip, but my mother did not. Although a staunch Methodist, my mother was never born again, and this is not a charge against her but something she proclaimed loud and long. I never did figure that out. A few weeks after David’s arrival in Mill Valley, he began to accompany me to Byron. My practice was to travel up on Saturdays and Sundays, 75 miles one-way, meaning 300- plus miles per weekend. My 1956 Ford sedan had already been driven too many miles, and it was forever breaking down. J.C. Penney & Co. allowed me weekends off, and I was incredibly busy with work and classes four days per week.[1] Seminary education was real graduate work. To be accepted as a student one had to have a BA degree from an accredited institution, and the professors loaded their students up with tons of reading and papers. As I think about it now, I had begun a pattern that would excessively take me away from my family. Here were doors opening up, which seemed to me to be by the Hand of God, yet in walking through them I was also harming my family. It is something I have had to live with and wrestle with, never coming to a clear understanding of it.

David and I began to see what inroads we could make in the Byron area. For one thing, we contacted the local juvenile hall. David had practically grown up in state institutions; California had, in a real sense, been his father and mother. He was quite comfortable visiting there, and before long the entire boys’ home was coming to church every other Sunday; the other Sunday they went to the local Methodist Church, the only other church in town.[2]

Oddly, this did not sit well with the deacons, maybe because it took my attention away from them, yet I still visited every single household in the church at least twice a month. Byron was and is so small, that I could park at the church site and walk to most every church member’s house.

The situation deteriorated further when David and I started walk­ing through the local migrant workers’ camp on Hwy 4 between Byron and Brentwood. One particular family of seven quickly responded to the Gospel. They lived in a one-room shack in the migrant settlement, and I baptized all of those over about age ten. Soon other Mexican people were coming as well, and the church got crowded. Soon after this the deacons cut my salary to $10 a week.

Perhaps they knew more than I did, because trouble followed almost immediately. One Saturday morning I arrived at the church building alone without David to find that almost all the windows had been broken. Tomatoes from the fields that surrounded the building on three sides had found their way into the chapel and schoolrooms. It was a huge mess. I put out a call for help, and soon most of the church members arrived to clean up the splattered tomatoes and bro­ken glass.

The next week David was with me, and as we entered the migrant workers’ housing area, two large German shepherd dogs rushed out to attack us. It was a fight for our lives; David and I fought them off, and soon the dogs were whimpering and whining, but David and I were a complete mess—dirty, bloody, and completely scratched up. None of the occupants of the camp, including those who had been attending church, emerged to help us, except one elderly man who told us that the priest at the Catholic Church in Brentwood had put the dogs on us.

We drove to the Excelsior Church, cleaned up, and then headed to Brentwood and the Catholic Church. Both David and I had grown up having to fight and stand up for ourselves. Parking in front of the church, we loudly called the priest out, and when he emerged we verbally let him have it, and in no uncertain terms. He knew we could have made a lot of trouble for him if we had gone to the police.

That was the last time we had any trouble, and the migrant workers continued to come to church while harvesting work was going on.

[1]  An M.Div. degree normally required four years but the government money lasted only three years, so I loaded up to take the maximum units in order to graduate in three years.

[2] As soon as the Methodist pastor heard that the boys were visiting the Baptist Church he demanded equal time and got it.

Four

The call to love and serve the Lord is still present in those of us who crossed lines. Those called of God to serve Him in His Church, will say like Paul, “woe is me if I preach not the gospel of Christ.” For the genuinely converted, this call to serve God and His Church does not vanish into thin air. However, how do we then return and start again?

Be sure you have recovered.

This takes time and effort; it does not happen as a matter of time passing. Recovery is deliberate, not half-hearted, and it requires considerable courage. It can be a very humbling experience. Some are shocked that a Christian leader could stumble, which indicates their immaturity, having little life experience. Toleration for them is required.

Be sure you have regained your emotional and spiritual balance.

We are likely looking at a number of years here. Indeed, you will never completely get over it. I have not; I carry my failures with me every day of my life. (Is it my thorn in the flesh?)

Perhaps even worse, there are those who actually relish reminding me of what a jerk I have been. (Is this the devil whispering in the ear? He is the accuser of the brethren, you know.)

It has come to my attention that I have harbored ill will toward those who shunned and rejected me during my crisis. Yes, the experience has nourished bitterness in me, even anger at times, towards those who were not able to reach out to me or who even made things worse. This is on me and constitutes an area in my inner being that I must deal with in a Godly and holy manner.

Do not avoid others who know of your failure.

What courage it takes to be in communication with those who know what happened to you, and even more so with those who were emotionally and/or spiritually damaged by your behavior. It may be very slow in coming.

You must even be able to face those who are rather pleased that you made a mess out of your life. And you will be surprised to find that these folks are out there and not only among the non-Christians. Some of those whom you counted as brothers and sisters in Christ will actually rejoice at your failure and adopt the attitude, “Well I could have told you so.”

At some point we will stop running away and face reality.

Ideas on how to help those who do not know what to do or say.

After any misfortune, we often experience how difficult it is for others to know what to say to us. “I am sorry” is about as good as most of us can do. And that is often enough.

However, there are those who will want to stand with you, even though they are troubled at what happened. You can help by direct communication and breaking the ice with a simple, non-blaming, confession or statement of culpability. “Thanks for hanging with me,” is a good starter statement.

Let the other person talk and, without becoming defensive, allow them to express their feelings. Bottled up emotions are painful and prevent fellowship. If you can do so, and it takes some significant recovery, let a person say what they will and without the need to defend, excuse, or explain. Confession works in many different ways, and it is good for us to do and to hear it. 

Guard yourself from making the same mistakes again.

There will more on this in the next chapter, but we must admit to ourselves that we are vulnerable to making the very same mistakes again. Patterns of behavior are learned when we are young and usually stick with us. Even if we have an insight into our own behavior, it may not be enough to avoid going that way again. The word is accountability, especially when you realize the flesh is weak, and having a relationship with someone where there is genuine accountability is a rare thing. I must warn that care must be exercised here, since it is not uncommon for those in whom we confide to later betray us.

Forgive those who have rejected you.

As followers of Jesus we are called to forgive those who despitefully use and abuse us. We may, in our pain and suffering, think that we are the ones to be sought after and confession made to. This cannot be presumed, however, and it may never take place, but it is our responsibility to fulfill the law of Christ to love one another. A large part of this is to forgive those who have hurt us. Jesus took it to the point, as you well know, to admonish that we love our enemies, not oppose them, or even just tolerate them.

Don’t go where you are not wanted.

Look for a spiritual community to be part of and to which you can be accountable, one that is Christ-centered and Bible-believing. (You might be surprised what you will find.) However, avoid going to gatherings or places where you are not wanted or where your presence may cause difficulty.

I have known pastors who served congregations for many years with blood, sweat, and tears, and desired to continue the relationships therein. While continuing relationships may exist, it may not be the responsible thing to do to intrude yourself in a situation where you are not wanted. Indeed, there will be situations where you are not wanted, and you will know when these arise. It is best to let things be, though it may be excruciatingly painful. 

Start small, and in the next chapter I will go into this in greater detail.

Chapter Four

For reasons I am unaware of, I am mostly alone. I work out of my house, when I can find work, so no co-workers, etc., just alone day after day. Sure, I see some of the folks living around me, but no real contact. Earlier in my life I had family, and some friends. I doubt I will ever marry; no one has really ever been interested in me. I confess that I cry about this a lot. It makes me want to end it all.

The above is a composite of life experience that I have heard from people over the years, and I could go on and on with it, but I think it is plain where I am going.

Being lonely is now recognized as a national pandemic like circumstance. A high percentage of Americans live alone, and this number is climbing. It is noted that all ages are represented too, young, middle aged, and old folks like me.

Some can barely make it out of the places they live in, due often to physical conditions, so time goes rolling along in aloneness. And the thought of ending it all seizes us, and this is not uncommon at all.

As a pastor of a church, gladly a small congregation, I am aware of those who are virtually living alone and without much contact with others. Not too long ago an elderly lady here at Miller Avenue Church went missing and it took several weeks before we found that she had died of a heart attack in her home, and no one knew. Yes, I lay some blame for this on myself as have several others at MAC. In fact, we are spreading her ashes three days from the writing of this piece.

My heart aches, from time to time, when I realize the unhappy conditions some are living with. I think the primary ministry I engage in is phone calling. I have a sheet of paper with 29 names on it, and it is my goal to call each of these at least every other week. (Usually, I get ahold of everyone on the list weekly.) It could be the most important thing I do. There are at least six of those on my list who have never attended a church service and likely never will.

Aloneness then is not one of the factors which has troubled me over the years; actually a little les contact would be fine, but what happens to me, my heart aches for the lonely ones.

“Only the lonely” so the song goes, Roy Orbison I think sang the song, and it is these lonely I so much want to focus on. First things first then, those of us who are lonely have to admit it that we are lonely and figure out ways to deal with it. Wow, what a potent thing to reveal: “Hi my name is Kent and I am lonely.”

Here are some ideas, and I know I am only scratching the surface.

Find a place to meet with other people. Now Katie and I are pastors and so we have our congregation that we spend hours with every week. Seek out a church, a small one is good, and get to know folks. Get involved if at all possible. Sing in a choir, be an usher, volunteer to do janitorial stuff, oh, lots of stuff really. Talk to a pastor, an elder, a deacon, be frank about your situation. Good things could happen.

If not a church, well my wife and I are members of our local Jewish Community Center, and we have lots of friends there, in fact, about half the time we spend there is talking with others. So two good things, working out, and meeting people.

Most communities have things going on that a person could engage in. Look around, go on the internet, check out local newspapers––you will find some groups to be part of. Don’t give up, keep it up, make the calls. Maybe working with animals, a gardener’s guild, a bridge club. Volunteering around, usually lots of needs here.

Another possibility is to contact a social worker by calling your county’s administrative office and explaining your need. Also think about contacting your local school district’s office and find out if there is anything you could volunteer for.

Get involved, do something, and do not give up easily. There will be a place where you are needed.

We simply will not allow loneliness to kill us. No way!

Chapter 5

David Comes to Seminary

Driving back across the bridge into Marin, now with David Hoyt in the car with all his worldly possessions, I started thinking what I was going to tell my wife Bobbie. David still had on his Hindu religious garments, and he had that look in his eye, expression on his face, and body language of someone who had totally imbibed eastern spirituality. I frankly worried how this would work. Here I am bringing a stranger into the house where my family and I lived, all in a really small two-bedroom apartment with one bathroom and a dinky kitchen, and now this weird looking guy dressed like Mahatma Gandhi takes up residence. I guessed he would have to sleep on the couch.

“Bobbie, this is David. Hey girls, this is David, come and meet him.” It went something like that. No cell phones existed at that time, so our arrival was not pre-announced, and it was a shock for them, especially Bobbie, to lay eyes on David. Bobbie quietly said hello, stepped up and shook hands, then retreated a bit and just looked at the strange house guest. It was quite uncomfortable, and we stumbled about for a bit until we all came in and sat down. The time was 1967 and the place was a Southern Baptist Seminary. Everyone on campus was Caucasian, the professors mostly spoke with Southern accents, and no one looked like I did, with a mustache and slightly longer hair, and certainly no one looked liked David Hoyt. Now he would be living there among them.

What with my wife Bobbie, about as straight an arrow as you could get, plus my two little girls, a first grader and a kindergartner, Dory and Grace, with neighbors on each side, there was no place to hide David.

I was working part time, and Bobbie worked as a salesclerk at the Thrifty drugstore in Corte Madera. We had the G.I. Bill, without which I would not have been able to afford a seminary education, but I was also pastor of Excelsior Baptist Church in Byron and making $10 a week.[1] We barely survived as it was.

David ended up making our tiny front room his bedroom, and we managed as best we could, but the pressure was on Bobbie. My dear, sweet daughters made the best of it and got along with David just fine.

How it all worked out is kind of blurry to me now, but I recall David coming to classes with me, and I would hear stories of his wandering around the campus and talking to students. He spent some time with Timothy Wu, who was living in the men’s dorm. Due to David’s strange appearance and presence in the administration and academic buildings, a ruling was made to the effect that students could not have non-relatives living with them. (This rule is still in force.)

My job was to disciple David, and I did the best I could. All my life it seems I have been constantly busy but especially then. Somehow we fit it all in. David and I started from scratch: who is God, what is sin, what was the Fall, and the longish story about what God did about it all. David was nothing else but intense and eager. He was a sponge and grasped complex biblical ideas quickly. After a few weeks he was ready to go with me into the City on what were now routine visits and ministry on the streets of the Haight-Ashbury. It was the “Summer of Love,” which David and three others had actually organized. As I am thinking through these things, I realize David Hoyt was not only one of the first, if not the first, convert in the Jesus People Movement, but he was also one of the chief evangelists for the whole hippie scene in San Francisco. Wherever David went, whatever he did, his impact was outsized.

So our adventures together began. At least once a week we drove into the City, arriving as early as possible and staying as late as possi­ble. We visited David’s old friends at the Krishna Consciousness Tem­ple and others like the Buddhist priest, Robert Sutherland, to whom David did his best to tell about Jesus. Added to them was hippie after hippie by the hundreds. Early on we wrote up and passed out flyers, some of which I still have, and we bought hundreds of Campus Cru­sade’s, The Four Spiritual Laws, and other materials to use in our wit­nessing. Many hippies and others were converted during those days in 1967, but it was only the trickle before the flood that was to come.

One other thing David and I did together: he began coming with me to Byron on Saturdays and Sundays. That story comes up next and may actually be the reason why the deacons of Excelsior Baptist Church declined to restore my money.

[1] It had been $20 a week but the deacons got mad at me for bringing migrant workers to church and baptizing them. All these years later, and I still wonder how it was that my salary did not ever go back to the starting $20 per week, yet our income climbed rapidly and steeply.

Jesus is Mocked & Jesus Before the Council

Luke 22:63­–71

Find a quiet place, alone and apart from distractions. Be comfortably alert, still, and at peace. Say the Lord’s Prayer. Sing or cant the Jesus Prayer. Pray for family, friends, neighbors, and yourself. Slowly and carefully read the passage of Scripture.

1.         Now morning breaks on the final day of Jesus’ earthly life. He is under the custody of Roman soldiers, and members of the Sanhedrin, the council of the 70 headed by the high priest.

2.         For some years the religious leaders of Israel had watched the young Galilean heal the sick, raise the dead, cast demons out of so very many, and do incredible miracles. Since He did not identify with these leaders, they hated Him.

3.         The religious leaders treated Him so horribly, blindfolding Him and striking Him then asking who was it that was hitting Him. And Jesus took it all, He submitted to what was coming, being sacrificed for our sin on the cross.

4.         With daybreak, and it had to be at this time, to make the proceedings legal, Jesus was officially brought before the council, a meeting of the Sanhedrin.

5.         The core of their interest was whether Jesus would claim that He was the Christ. He knew that if He said He was, they would not believe Him. However, He does state clearly that He is the “Son of Man,” meaning the Christ, and that He would be at the right hand of the power of God.           

6.         Then in a very Hebrew way, He does declare that He is indeed the Messiah. And this is enough for the authorities to have Him crucified.