Pilgrimage of Joy … No. 51

1972: A YEAR FOR RENEWAL
W. Carl Ketcherside

On March 13-17, I was with the Northglenn Christian Church at Denver. It was served by my good friend, William Lower. I first met him and his lovely family at Fort Wayne, Indiana. He was an excellent administrator, an apt student and a competent proclaimer of the Word. I stayed in a little camper belonging to one of the brethren. It was pitched at the rear of the church building and it was in a real spot. At night I could see the star-studded canopy of the skies flung above me, un obscured by the smog of our own creation. It was a real place for meditating and I did a great deal of it. Out of my deliberations came an article which was one of my deepest. It was entitled “Spiritual Argonauts” and deals with the nature and essence of truth. It was published in the August issue of Mission Messenger, in 1972, and appears in the volume called “The Divine Purpose.” I have never written another to equal it. And I could not have written it if I had not been alone at night on the plains outside “The Mile High City.”

March 20-22 found me with the Northside Church of Christ at Grand Rapids, Michigan. I stayed with Patrick Miles and his good wife. They were a wonderful black brother and sister. They had two beautiful children. It must have been rather strange for them having a white man in their home. I caught them staring at me around the door facing as I wrote. Pat was an elder and a good one indeed. He had a grasp of what was transpiring and was a firm believer in the need for implementing the prayer of Jesus for unity.

While there I spoke at chapel at Great Lakes Bible College and also met with the Campus workers at Michigan State. The school was in the vanguard of the student revolution. They were taking to the streets and marching for any cause, or simply creating an artificial cause and marching anyhow. It was interesting to see them gather momentum and wave their fists and start shouting. It was a great time to be there with the message of “The Indestructible Jesus” when a lot of other things were being reduced to rubble or going up in licking flames. In times like these you need an anchor!

I went next to Newport, Oregon for the third time. I was becoming a regular fixture in this fishing town, so picturesquely sprawled above the wide Pacific. The brethren had established a coffee house mission on the waterfront. To it, came sailors from every country possessing a fishing fleet Here they could find a free copy of the scriptures, sometimes in their native tongue. There was always someone with whom to talk about the lordship of Jesus. A few steps down the wharf was Mo’s chowder house, a famed place which looked like anything except a restaurant, but made clam chowder which was out of this world. If you ate too much of it you would be too!

We had decided that the lessons at night should be on the book of Romans. I worked out a series which I designated: Nonsense and Incense; Faith and Futility; The Father of the Faithful; Dead and Delivered; The “As” and “So” of Service. The auditorium was filled every night. The open forum attendance each morning was very gratifying. It was while in this town I found an old friend whom I had known from boyhood in Topeka, Kansas. He had become a judge on the circuit court judiciary.

It was my good fortune to go next to Hoxie, Kansas, where Darrel Foltz is doing such effective work. While there several members of the Dunkard Brethren attended every night. I learned that they had quite a colony at Quinlan, Kansas, where there were two congregations as the result of an unfortunate split. Realizing that they had descended from the work of Philip Jacob Spencer and Herman Francke, in protest against certain deficiences in Reformation life and practice, I was anxious to meet with some of them. We went out to the beautiful and fertile farm of one of the leaders. I soon found that they were descendants of the Pietists, and were part of a restoration movement which preceded ours by a century.

The house was plainly furnished. Everything served a utilitarian purpose. It was spotless. There was no television set. A great many of what we consider “modern conveniences” were conspicuous by their absence. The people attired themselves in simple garments which denoted their faith and separated them from the world about them. They practice foot-washing in conjunction with their communion. They hold a love feast annually as a symbol of their affection for one another. I was blessed by being able to talk with them. It was only in recent years they had begun to attend our meetings. They could come and not offend their conscience since we did not have instrumental music. I was much impressed with the unaffectedness of their lives. It was no problem to me to recognize them as brothers and sisters.

It was about this time I learned of the death of two aged saints whose lives had impressed me greatly. One was Isaiah H. H. Moore, 91, of Louisville, Kentucky. He was killed when thrown from an automobile in a three car collision in New Lebanon, Indiana. This humble black man, a direct descendant of slaves, had long worked with College of the Scriptures at Louisville. The other was Charles Bussard, also 91, who was living near Springfield, Missouri, when summoned to his eternal home. He was of hardy pioneer stock, and had spent his entire life within a few miles of his birthplace. Generous, open and free-hearted he had roots going back to the pioneer days when the English and Scotch people crossed the Appalachians and drifted westward. He had a lot of Elizabethan words in his simple vocabulary.

I traveled next to Elgin, Oregon for a series of studies on “The Life of the Spirit.” I was met at Pendleton by a brother in a light plane. We lifted out of the valley and crossed over a high mountain which stood between us and our destination. We were so close to the ground that I could look down and see bands of wild elk grazing. It was a hunter’s paradise. My stay was marred by word of a highway accident which claimed the life of Bernell Weems, of Bonne Terre, Missouri. A preacher of the Word, he died early one morning when his car struck the abutment of a bridge. I was asked to come for the funeral service but could not, as I was scheduled to be the speaker at the commencement at which our oldest granddaughter, Dawn, graduated from the high school at Aspen, Colorado. She was valedictorian of her class and made a fine speech based upon I Corinthians 13.

Following an excellent meeting at James River Chapel, south of Springfield, I was booked next for the camp near Macrorie, Saskatchewan. Word came of the death of J. C. Bunn, at the age of 90, in Washington. In my early boyhood when I was twelve years old, he had announced my first preaching appointment at the little rural church at Old Pearl, in Illinois. My work had “caught on fire” from that fateful night and my destiny was determined. At Macrorie I was associated with Ed Benoit, a member of the provincial parliament for Alberta, sitting at Edmonton. A great student of the Word and a master of communication he did a tremendous job. We had a great time and saw much good accomplished.

I accepted an invitation to address the College-Career session at the North American Christian Convention. My theme was “The Holy Spirit in the Church Now.” After finishing my assignment I was preparing to leave for home a day early. I was asked to deliver the final morning address as a substitute for Joe Barnett, of Lubbock, Texas, who called to say he was sick and could not make it. There were over 5,000 present and I had to speak primarily “off the cuff.” A great many persons whose hearing was apparently defective told me it was the best I had ever done. I still run into people who were present and remind me of the speech. It is enough to discourage one from preparation.

August 11 and 12 I was accompanied by Otto Schlieper and Leroy Long, of Saint Louis, to a men’s clinic at Rock Garden Camp in the beautiful Missouri Ozarks. I was associated there with Knofel Staton, currently a professor at Ozark Bible College. Since that time I have been with him in various other meetings here and in Canada. Each time I hear him I become more convinced he is one of the most articulate men among us. His research is so thorough that it leaves nothing to be desired. He is the author of a number of books, all of them good ones. His studies on marriage leave little else to be said. Fortunate indeed are those places which secure him as a speaker.

During September I was at a Family Camp at Little Galilee, near Clinton, Illinois, where Enos Dowling also spoke. The former librarian at Butler School of Religion, he had become associated with Lincoln Christian Seminary. His knowledge of the restoration movement history is unsurpassed. His hobby is collecting old song books prepared by composers in the movement. Among those he has gathered are scores of books starting with Alexander Campbell, and reaching down from the inimitable J. D. Fillmore, to brethren who are still alive and writing. A great change has come over the music used since the beginning. The great transformation that has taken place the past several years betokens the coming of a new reformation. Every such reformation in the past has been launched upon the wings of song.

On September 8, 9 I was at Butler Springs Men’s Retreat in Ohio. It was a blessing for me to be associated with James Smith and Paul Bajko. Paul is from Poland. As I write this he has just celebrated his 25th year in preaching the good news to the Polish people. In 1971 the church in Poland celebrated its 50th anniversary. Paul helped to plant a congregation in Bielsk-Podlaski in 1969. They remodeled an old building to seat about 70 persons. They have since outgrown their quarters and have applied to the government for permission to build a larger one. Since 1969, new congregations have been planted in Poland at the rate of one per year.

I went next to Hilltop Christian Service Camp and spoke at a Men’s Retreat. The camp is near Columbus, Indiana, and from it I went directly to Sunbury, Ohio. Then on to Hobbs, New Mexico, where I was surprised to see Brother and Sister W. P. Hutson. They had come to take a motel room next to mine just so we could talk in spare moments. Brother Hutson grew up in a different segment of our brotherhood than had I, but he read Mission Messenger and became entranced by what I was doing. We had great times talking over our past and thinking about the future. The three of us became convinced that we were living in one of the thrilling periods of the church.

From Hobbs, I journeyed to Corvallis and Beaverton, Oregon. It was my third trip to Oregon during the year. At Corvallis I had the privilege of association with a great number of college faculty and students who were dedicated to Christ Jesus. Our association was unmarred by any kind of difference or friction. Although they came from various backgrounds, under the gentle influence of the Spirit they were drawn together. At Beaverton I was compelled to deal at length with the rise of the charismatic movement. It was beginning to make an impact upon the community. It was a great time to be alive and actively dealing with the problems of the church.

I closed the year at the little Illinois town of Astoria. We had a great series of meetings and I met some fine people. I returned home to prepare my speech on “Fellowship” for the preacher’s workshop at Abilene Christian College. It was to be held January 8-10. As I looked back upon the year just spent I could rejoice in accomplishments for the Cause. I had traveled in every part of our nation, and had gone to Canada as well. Everywhere I found brethren awakening to our needs as a people. It was evident that we were moving into a brighter and better day.