Travel Letter . . .

FROM INDIANA TO SASKATCHEWAN

I do not recall ever being in a home before that has an inscribed cornerstone. But the one in which I now sit near Salem, Indiana has one that reads: Campbell Place/Holy To The Lord/For Sherry, My Beloved Wife, And Our Children: Mark, Carrie, Timothy, And Nathan/Aug. 5, 1978/R.W.C.

I knew Bob Campbell, the creator of the stone, before his wife and children came along. He was a student of mine at MacMurray College in Illinois in the 1950’s and a fellow worker in the kingdom. He is now a school teacher-minister, serving schools and churches here in Washington county, where there are some 40 congregations of the Stone-Campbell heritage, many of them country churches. That Bob’s ministry is both effective and conciliatory is evidenced by the fact that when Elton Trueblood, the most famous Friend of this state, heard him he sought to draft him for service among the Quakers. It is just as well that Bob Campbell remain a Campbellite, for we need more like him, not fewer.

Still this home has not gone untouched by Quaker influence, for daughter Carrie is a student at nearby Earlham College. She tells me of her visit with the Truebloods, who are now aged but still active around the campus. I told her the story of how Dr. Trueblood lost his cool some years ago when visiting Abilene Christian University, confronted as he was with both professors and students on the subject of baptism. But I assured her that even a humble Quaker has the right to blow his stack once in a lifetime, especially when Church of Christ folk are nipping at his heels.

The cornerstone is no ostentacious display. This home is dedicated to the Lord, with the family sharing it with foster children, two brothers who were so neglected that they became custodians of the state. They all sit around an ample table where both body and soul is fed. All the children learn to pray, and they read and discuss the word together. They also learn to work. As I watched the kids on tractor and mower, in barn and greenhouse, picking tomatoes and grubbing potatoes, I thought of how fortunate they are. And no TV. I was into my second day here before I realized something was missing. No TV! But it is no big deal and no one is anti-TV. They are just too busy for it.

I was especially impressed when one of the foster kids wrecked the mower by losing control and allowing it to run down an embankment. He sat beside me at the table that night, self-chastened, explaining that it got away from him. But he went unrebuked. It was all right; “we can fix it.” I remembered that back in Texas we hang kids for less than that.

Due to my recent bout with hepatitis it was unlikely that I would be able to fill this appointment, even after once postponing it. Two physicians were advising me. One, who is a dear friend, told Ouida to keep me home in bed; the other, a specialist recommended by the first, told me I would be all right. As we all usually do, I obeyed the one that suited me. Following my first address I was so weak that I feared I had erred in attempting it, and Ouida’s chastening words came to mind, “I don’t want you to come home on a stretcher.” But by going to bed at a reasonable hour, which is not usually the case in work like this, and resting somewhat during the day I have gradually gained strength, so that speaking no longer tires me. I reported to Ouida that I feel almost normal, and I called my physician friend to tell him I was feeling great. He cautioned me not to overdo it.

Southern Indiana is a great place to be, convalescing or not, and I love to visit the country churches, such as the Walnut Grove Christian Church; which is about six dirt and gravel roads from here, where Gary Outhout ministers and which has a long and interesting history. I addressed one of their largest audiences ever on the resurrection of our Lord, relating it to cases of conversion in Acts. One brother in the area thanked the Lord afterward that “That is the kind of preaching that led us out of denominationalism.” While I appreciated that, I am not sure that we are really that far out of denominationalism.

I also addressed the Highway Church of Christ, non-instrument, in Pekin, on lessons from the Old Covenant Scriptures that point to the faithfulness of God. Earl Mullins ministers there, and I was able to meet for the first time a host of dear sisters and brothers, some of whom came some distance, such as Gary and Violet McKee and Larry and Marsha Baldwin from Bloomington and Jesse and Doris Ireton from Shirley. Ouida is well acquainted with such names through the mailing of this journal, as she is with all of you that have been subscribers for some time.

A meeting of our folk who simply call themselves Christians meets at the John Hay Center in Salem. It was my second time around with them, and I spoke on some of the truths deposited in the book of Malachi. These are my kind of down home folk, so we get along beautifully. A visitor who had heard of me told a brother that he expected me to be “intellectual” and over his head, but that he found me to be his kind of guy after all, to his surprise.

I especially enjoyed our visits to French Lick where I thrice spoke to the Springs Valley Christian Church, once on the history of our Movement. From the Scriptures I spoke on “The Two Sides of Salvation,” based on Eph. 2:8 (grace and faith). When I placed baptism under faith, showing it to be the outward expression of faith (faith being both inward trust and outward obedience), one sister told me she had at last been able to understand the place of baptism. On Sunday a.m. I gave an address on “The Blessed Hope,” which seemerl to encourage a number of people. In the Campbell home on Sunday p.m., where folk gathered from all over the county, I told anecdotes and spoke on the four “Faithful Sayings” that the apostle underscores in the pastoral epistles. It seemed that with every discourse from the Scriptures I grew stronger. A lot of people have been praying for me.

I was home only two days before flying on to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan on the plains of western Canada, where I was a guest of Elgin and June Banting near the farm towns of Outlook and Macrorie. The occasion was the 26th edition of the Macrorie Camp, which should be called Outlook since the Church of Christ in that town is the sponsor. It is held in a hollow on the Banting farm, which is measured in sections rather than acres. The hollow is a cozy oasis nestled in the treeless plains as if by accident, the trees of which form an elongated tunnel, ample in size to accommodate numerous tents, trailers, and campers. The annual affair, which is open to all persuasions of our heritage, attracts as many as 200 visitors.

The Bantings, which now includes two grown sons who have never missed a camp and “Granny,” the paternal grandmother of the clan, consider each camper a personal guest, which makes the camp an extension of their home. For years they even cooked the meals for the scores that came, but now each family is on its own, except for breakfast which they all share together. Since the speakers are not equipped for camping, they stay “up at the farm” in one of the two Banting homes, which, though five miles away, is still on the farm. This was to my advantage, for I was still recuperating from my recent illness and might not have faired too well in the primitive conditions of the camp.

The campers have no hook-up to either water, sewage, or electricity. There is a central spigot for water, which is hauled in to a cistern on a nearby hill, and there are numerous outhouses labeled either Hers or Hims, some of which are painted in psychedelic colors. The primitiveness of the camp is by design rather than necessity. If a speaker needs to refer to the Bible or his notes he can use a flashlight. I chose to rely on memory, so my presentations were out of darkness rather than light, though this was compensated in part by a roaring camp fire, which provided warmth as well as light in the hollow’s evening chill.

The other teachers were Rolando Paraiso of Winnipeg, Manitoba and Jim Williams of Prince Albert, Sask., both of whom did a super job in giving the auditors something to think about. Rolando is burdened with the problems of church growth or the lack of growth, while Jim is persuaded that many of our problems within the Movement stem from not knowing what the gospel is and is not. Rolando works with an instrumental Christian Church while Jim is associated with a non-instrument Church of Christ, which is reflective of the openness of the camp.

The Church of Christ at Outlook, which sponsors the camp, has always been non-instrumental, and yet they are generally supportive of and associated with Christian Churches and their causes, such as Alberta Bible College. Though we had no service there, I made it a point to visit their quaint little building. Their sign reads Church of Christ. Once inside one finds no organ or piano. All appears bona fide, as if right out of Texas. But on the table are copies of Christian Standard and the bulletin board advertises projects of the Christian Church. So what is it, Church of Christ or Christian Church? From our sectarian perspective in the States perhaps it is neither.

Our old party categories simply do not apply in Canada, and it is just as well that we leave them home. Their beginnings were independent of our and they have a different history, though we both have our roots in Scotland and Ireland. The Canadians are of course British, and it often shows in their view of things. Elgin (pronounced with a hard g as in begin and not like the name of the watch), who likes to say “Good show” when he is pleased with a performance, said to me with pragmatic resignation: “There’s the minister system. We don’t like it, but its there.” I had no problem with that, for I knew where he was coming from. It was more British than American!

Arriving a day early and leaving a day late, partly to recuperate from my bout with hepatitis, I had time to walk somewhat about the Banting farm. After walking away from the house two or three miles I was still on their property! While the sections of wheat were not yet ripe, it stood at full stature, and it waved with the breeze as far as the eye could see, not unlike a vast sea. Elgin, who was born on the farm nearly six decades ago, tells how his father, only recently deceased, homesteaded his first quarter-section while yet a boy, not long after the Indians roamed those plains in search of buffalo.

As I looked over those several sections of wheat and grain I was reminded of all the hard work it must have taken — decades of blood and sweat and tears. In the earlier years the ground was of course broken with horse and plow and no automation. The machinery now used staggers the imagination and the cost is astronomical. The Bantings can count 146 rubber-tire wheels that touch the ground, bearing scores of vehicles.

One such vehicle is a grain auger, which loads and unloads grain bins or silos. Elgin still had part of last year’s wheat crop to take to market, one bin containing about 18,000 pounds of wheat. The auger spiraled it into a truck, just like that, leaving only two or three feet of wheat on the bin floor that human hands had to shovel into the mouth of the auger. I climbed in to help Elgin and his son Blayne (who is a ministerial student), but I soon learned that that was no job for me. But I had a good excuse. I had been ill! The next time around I will have to come up with a different excuse.

Once the truck was loaded Elgin and I took it to the co-op in Macrorie and it was unloaded faster than you can say Jack Robinson. We were of course weighed in and out, and Elgin got his check right on the spot, at $4.00 a bushel. The wheat will probably go to Russia. Elgin has a super modern combine, a very imposing piece of machinery, that was made in Russia. When I asked him why Russia, he explained that theirs was $25,000 cheaper. I dared not ask what the monster cost.

Well, the story of our churches in Canada is not all that different, except that they have not grown like the Banting farm. The churches are mostly tiny and are far apart. To enjoy such fellowship as the Outlook Camp they often have to travel great distances. Friendships become very meaningful and fellowship is often rich and deep. Every church is a story of a struggle and hardship. The Canadians are a hardy folk with lots of hang-in power, and they are not so quick to draw lines of fellowship. We will do well to know them better and to emulate their work of faith and labor of love.

So I was blessed all the way from the verdant hills of southern Indiana to the Big Sky of western Canada. A good show!—the Editor