Missions Textbook 5
Discouragement and Encouragement

We Never Saw It Coming: An Introduction to Christian Missions (textbook)

Christine’s Driver’s License

I should have realized from Floyd’s story that my test would probably not go as well. After all, I don’t think quickly on my feet, and I don’t see verbal traps – especially ones in another language.

There were only five of us in the questioner’s office. I was the only woman. He began with a couple questions to the others and then turned to me.

“Is it permitted to drive past another car at a crosswalk?”

Now there are two different words for driving by: the one he used was the one you would use when there are four lanes, and a crosswalk crosses all of them. The other word was for passing another car on a two-lane road. I knew one was not allowed to do the latter, and I had never heard the first word, so I said, “No.”

“Do you even know what this word even means?”

On a scrap of paper I drew a car passing on a two-lane road.

“Nope, that’s not it. You can go.” He nodded at the door.

“May I stay and listen and learn?”

He shrugged. “It won’t change anything.”

“I understand.”

I listened while three of the men were eliminated. The young man who passed probably answered 25 questions.

I went home, discouraged.

Friends told us that trick questions were not allowed, but as you can see, trick questions were the main part of the testing. They also told me that the questioners usually didn’t like women drivers and that the only way to pass the test was to take a course, costing several hundred dollars. Then I was guaranteed to pass. At first, we thought about it, but I don’t even like to drive, so eventually, I decided to join the majority of women in Austria who took the bus, streetcar or train.

We have heard that the old methods have changed. Now the questioners have questions on cards, and the person draws a card and has to answer everything on the card. Also, everyone has to go to driving school, whether they know how to drive or not, and the length of schooling is determined by the instructor’s evaluation of how a person drives. So, we were thankful that Floyd took his test when he did.

Repeat after me: It’s not stupid; it’s different.

When in Rome . . .

From the moment we set foot in Europe, we wanted to do our best to not be stereotypical, annoying Americans. My mother had taught me smatterings of German and French as a child, but more importantly, she had taught me to be observant of what was going on around me.

Food – One of the first things we did was to rearrange our meal schedule so we ate a light breakfast, sent the boys to school with a snack, had our large meal between noon and 2pm and had a lighter supper of soup or sandwiches. Austrians would ask us about this, which we thought strange, but we were able to please them with the “correct” answer. When we were invited to someone’s home, I would slip into the kitchen and ask them to teach me to make whatever it was they were making. I learned to make coffee in Austria.

At that time, there was a very popular TV show in America called “Dallas.” It was an evening soap opera, but it was popular all over the world. Austrians watched it faithfully (translated into German), and they had concluded that all American women were rich, had a paid cook and were unable to do any domestic tasks at all. So, the fact that I could cook, bake, sew, knit, and cross-stitch was a pleasant surprise to them.

Even how one handles silverware at the table was an evidence of being Austrian or American. Americans usually cut their food with their dominant hand and then switch the fork to their dominant hand to eat. So time-consuming and clumsy. Austrians – and by extension, most Europeans – put the fork in their left hand, the knife in their right hand, and both stay there for the meal. The knife helps to put the food on the fork (instead of using your fingers!). And when not eating, both wrists are on the table, not hidden in your lap. Some of this probably came from history long past, when a weapon could be hidden under the table. (Remember in the original Star Wars, Han Solo killed Greedo in the Cantina that way!).

Clothing – In our area of Austria, the people wore the local costumes to church and to weddings and other special events. They even wore them to work or just to go shopping and meet a friend for tea. They were very expensive, so I found a sewing class and learned how to make my own “dirndl.” Again, Austrians seemed surprised.

We tried to dress like the Austrians, although our budget was severely limited. I usually wore skirts because most of the women my age did.

Language – We worked very hard on our German – Floyd at the Interpreter’s Institute at the University, and me with hired tutors and others willing to help me. One dear friend, Barbara, was determined to make sure my German was the best she could teach me. She steered me away from the prevalent local dialect and insisted on proper German all the time. One time her husband was preaching the sermon, and he used a word in dialect. Barbara leaned over and whispered, “He can say that, but you can’t!” Actually, if we had tried to speak the dialect, we would have done it imperfectly, and it would have seemed as if we were making fun of the Austrians. Interestingly enough, to this day, when someone hears us speak German, they can tell from our accent that we learned in Austria.

Greeting – When meeting someone you know, or being introduced to someone you don’t know, you always shake hands – the women first – and never reach across someone who is shaking hands. If you are close, like members of the same church or family, you kiss first on one cheek and then the other. I think it’s the right cheek first, but I never could figure that out.

When you go to someone’s home or to a party, always greet everyone, and when you leave, you need to take leave of everyone by shaking hands once again. It’s important to thank the host and/or hostess particularly. This area is one that I miss, now that we are back in America. Even when I have a group of people in my home, I make an effort to greet them and to say good-bye. But often I turn around, and everyone is gone and no one said good-bye or thank you. I’m whining.

Purpose – I have already mentioned our struggle with how not to tell the Austrians that we were missionaries. Austrians would tell you to your face that they didn’t need missionaries and why don’t you go to Africa! Fortunately, we had the freedom to learn the language how we wanted and at the speed we felt necessary. Floyd was registered at the university as a full-time student, so when people asked me what we were doing in Austria, I could honestly answer, “My husband is studying at the university.” He was there for five years.

One time, after a lovely meal with some new believers, we went for a walk before coffee and dessert. I was walking with her and Floyd was up ahead, talking with her husband.

“You know,” she remarked confidentially, “I think we have finally figured out what you are doing here in Austria.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You wanted to come over here and introduce us to the Lord Jesus through the Bible. Some of your friends in America agreed to send you here, and they send you money so you can stay. And so here you are. And we are so glad you came. Please thank them for us.”

What more could I say?

But she hadn’t used the word missionary because in her understanding, we were not missionaries.

Summer 1982 – How Will This Affect the Boys? Part 2

The public swimming venues in Austria are beautiful. They are planned for a family to spend the entire day. The one we chose to frequent was especially wonderful. Grassy lawns stretched away from the pools, and we could spread our blanket in the sun or the shade of trees. We would bring a picnic lunch, our German books, and sunscreen. There was a substantial snack bar, and Floyd was always a pushover for French fries. The boys, as they grew, had a choice between the kiddie pool, a large pool with a shallow end and a deep end, an Olympic-sized pool with swimming lanes, and a diving pool with diving boards and even a ten-meter diving platform.

The one big negative was the section set apart for nude sunbathing. It was surrounded by a tall hedge, and the boys knew they were not supposed to go anywhere near it. The nude sunbathers were required to put on their swimsuits before they could leave that area to use the pools or snack bar.

We always chose to spend the day at this pool across town because we did not want to meet neighbors and friends in their swimsuits. Or lack thereof. Erich really wanted to go swimming with his friends, so one Saturday, we finally agreed to go to the local pool as a family.

“But,” stipulated their father, “If we meet any of our friends without a swimsuit, we will go home.”

Wide-eyed, Erich agreed, probably unable to believe that anyone would do that.

The boys had so much fun playing with their friends. This venue was much smaller, with one pool for a large apartment house complex, so it was very crowded. Floyd was talking to one of the neighbors, when he suddenly saw a naked bosom coming toward him. He started to turn away, when he heard her greet him. Just then, Erich swam past, took one look at his best friend’s sister, and his eyes popped. He swam right over to Michael and hauled him out of the pool. “We’re going home now!” Floyd excused himself, and we left. Erich agreed that visiting the pool across town was probably a good idea. Our compromise was that sometimes we would take some of our boys’ friends with us.

Now, I have to say that if we had been missionaries somewhere in the jungles of Africa or South America, we undoubtedly would have handled nudity differently. We were in Europe, however, and we found the lack of modesty to be disturbing. I had a German teacher who taught us that the word “modesty” was a bad word from which parents had to cure their children. We recognized that they were sinners who had no idea of God’s view of modesty and godly living; that was why we were there. We never condemned the Austrians, or told them they needed to change. That eventually came from the Holy Spirit as they got to know God’s word.

We wanted to teach and protect the boys from having to handle concepts beyond their age. Sunscreen was advertised by beautiful naked women on huge billboards. Alcohol and cigarettes were promoted by scantily clad women. Movies full of every imaginable sexual perversion were advertised with photos in the windows of the theaters and video stores along the streets. We finally made a game of it. When any one of us saw something that we probably ought not to dwell upon, that person would say, like a drill sergeant, “Eyes right!” and everyone had to look in that direction, away from the picture. Then we used it as another opportunity to talk about purity.

Differing Philosophies of Ministry

Our German was now good enough to participate in life with the other German-speakers. This was a great advantage because the Austrians love their language and appreciate when foreigners make the effort to master it. The disadvantage was that we were now looked upon as equals among missionaries, and the veteran missionaries were not happy that sometimes the Austrians preferred to talk to us.

We had plenty of our own friends – mostly unbelievers and new converts, and Floyd was now interested in what the church had to offer them. Would they be discipled and given an opportunity to serve? The answer we received was, “Don’t you worry about that; just keep bringing them in; we’ll take care of them once they are in the church.”

Well, they were our “babies,” and that response was not good enough. We wanted them to grow in their faith, mature into Bible teachers in their own right, and eventually be able to evangelize their own people, and lead their own churches. In contrast, we had seen how the missionaries still – after 14 years – did everything in the church. Their reasoning was that the Austrians were lazy and weak. Sometimes the Austrian believers would ashamedly agree. We learned a bit later, that this sort of thinking was prevalent in many countries. The French thought the Belgians were unfit to lead their own churches; the Spanish thought the Catalonians were less capable than the Spanish. It was a sinful type of nationalistic pride that kept believers in the church under control of the “more capable” missionaries.

Floyd showed the missionaries Titus 1:12, where a Cretan author wrote of his own people: “Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons.” Then the apostle Paul wrote in verse 13, “This testimony is true. For this reason, reprove them severely so that they may be sound in the faith.” Floyd told the German missionaries that he truly believed that the Austrians could be trained to lead their own churches, and that the missionaries ought to be able to leave and start more churches elsewhere.

We have since learned that missionaries who are deeply entrenched don’t like to hear that. We still believe it, however, and Floyd encourages every missionary he trains to have a plan for working himself out of a job.

Summer 1982 – Saved by the Conference

One of the main reasons missionaries leave the mission field is because of conflict with other missionaries. I could footnote this, citing many books and articles, but I won’t. Back then, we didn’t know that, but we did know that the other missionaries were no longer happy with us, and they wanted us to do what they wanted or to go away.

I have always loved worshipping with the church on Sunday morning. But now it became difficult. In Austria, when you arrive at the church building, everyone shakes everyone’s hand and often gives a kiss on both cheeks. That continued, and I found it hard to be kissed by people who were saying bad things about us behind our back. The church leaders even wrote to our home church in Portland, asking them to call us back to the States. Every sermon every Sunday was about “loving one another,” which meant, as it often does: “Agree with us and we will have peace.” We really had not come to Austria to split a church, but there were also Austrians in the church who were tired of being pushed around by the missionaries. We did not know how to make the unhappiness stop. The missionaries who had been so glad to invite us to come work with them, now wanted us to leave. “Working with” had actually meant “working under” and doing what they told us.

One of the most interesting points of opposition was historical. Because of political decisions that had been made during and after World War Two, the German missionaries told us that we would have to move to a different part of Austria if we wanted to continue to minister. This area belonged to them, and we were no longer welcome.

We never saw this coming. If we had, perhaps we would have not chosen to come to Graz, for people are creatures who avoid adversity. People cross the street to avoid someone they don’t like. They change grocery stores if the checkers are surly. Normally we avoid conflict if we see it coming.

We slogged through the spring of 1982, wondering what to do, and not knowing whom we could ask for advice. Our church in Portland trusted us completely and had no intention of recalling us. The only other missionaries we knew were the young people in Vienna who were taking Bibles behind the Iron Curtain into communist countries. They had enough on their plate. We were unhappy with the conflict, yet encouraged by the salvation of several of our friends. We considered a trip back to America for the summer, thought about changing location, even discussed giving up and moving back to Portland. Homesickness and culture shock come at strange times, and I don’t think we realized what was happening to us.

Then. Quite unexpectedly. We received an invitation to a European Christian Workers’ conference in France, scheduled for the beginning of August. At the time, we didn’t know how they got our names. Later, we discovered that we had been inadvertently overlooked our first two summers in Europe. The conference was organized by other missionaries who, like we, were sent out to Europe from their Plymouth Brethren churches in all the English-speaking countries.

We took another trip to Greece, which was not nearly as idyllic as the first (Are they ever?), and then traveled all the way across Europe through the Alps to south-central France. We drove onto the conference grounds, and God began to show us mightily what we should do.

We were barely out of the car when people – people who spoke English! – hurried toward us.

“We’re the Schneiders.”

“We know!” one young woman exclaimed. She flung her arms around me and kissed me first on one cheek, then on the other, and then again on the first. “We are so glad you are here!”

I thought she meant “here” at the conference grounds, but an older lady, who had been a missionary in Italy for many years, clarified a little later. With tears in her eyes, she said, “I am so grateful and happy that God has not given up on our beloved Europe and has sent you to work in this field.”

Older children ran out to meet us and took the boys off to play with other missionary kids. We hardly saw them the rest of the week, but it was so good for them. Volunteers had come from North America to run a grand children’s program, freeing all the missionaries to be able to attend the meetings or just to take a nap.

The planning committee had also organized a grand program for the missionaries. If you have ever asked the question, “Who ministers to the missionaries?” the answer is Dr. David Gooding.[1] He spoke twice a day on the book of Acts, and Floyd and I had never – I mean: never – heard such amazing teaching. After two and a half years of struggling to learn the language and culture, after still feeling stupid because we had the vocabulary of a ten-year-old, after a year of conflict with believers who were not acting like believers, Dr. Gooding’s messages were just what we needed to hear.

The book of Acts, of course, is all about the beginnings of the Church, and the Apostles certainly had their share of conflicts. But they made disciples, planted churches, and passed the baton to the next generation. Our hungry souls feasted on the rich spiritual food, presented by such a humble, gifted man.

“Networking” was not a term people used in the early 1980’s, but we networked with everyone. We were surrounded by experts – fellow missionaries – who had weathered many difficult situations during their time in Europe. Over simple French meals or sitting under the trees on a hot afternoon to the song of the cicadas, we were able to finally get advice from those who had gone before us. Almost every missionary family had gone through what we were going through. They understood and were able to guide us.

The gist of our many questions was: How can we avoid conflict with the German missionaries, while being forbidden to do the very thing we came to Austria to do: lead Austrians to the Lord and plant churches?

Their answers solved everything in three parts:

1. Paul and Barnabas separated after they quarreled over whether to take John Mark with them on the second missionary journey. From that came two missionary teams.

2. Leave the church and don’t take anyone with you from the church. You don’t want to be accused of “sheep-stealing – ” that is, taking people from their church for your  church.

3. Keep leading evangelistic Bible studies, and start a church with new converts.

Our saddened souls were revived by the love of the other missionaries and by God’s word. God’s timing had been impeccable. We drove back to Austria with renewed joy, once more excited for the ministry we dreamed of doing, anticipating what God would allow us to do for Him in the coming years. The European Workers’ Conference became a yearly tradition for us. After a couple years, we joined the planning committee, and continued to help organize this balm for a missionary’s heart. In years to come, we became the ones the new missionaries came to for advice, and we were able to love and encourage them as we had once been loved and encouraged.

It Wasn’t Easy

The missionaries in Graz had not changed their minds while we were in France. When Floyd announced our plan to separate from the church and to plant a new one in an un-churched section of the city, the missionaries called a meeting of all the missionaries in Austria and Germany in their denomination to discuss the idea with Floyd. In fact, over the next year, they called three meetings. The purpose of each was to convince Floyd to submit to them and just lead people to Christ, turning our converts over to the German churches.

After the first two meetings, so many inaccuracies were spread about what Floyd had said, that we were having a difficult time trusting the people in the meetings. When Floyd was asked to attend the third meeting, I had a bad feeling about it. John Lennox was due to come to another Austria Student Mission conference, and I suggested that Floyd call John and ask him if he had time to come early to attend that meeting. I just had a feeling that it would be a mental and spiritual attack, and Floyd needed a witness that the opposition would respect. John came, and it was a good thing he did. At that meeting, they shook their collective finger at Floyd and commanded, “We forbid you to plant a church in this province of Austria.”

This was territorialism at its worst. They were still insisting that we stop “playing church” and give them our people. As if they were “ours!” They belonged to the Lord. At one point, Floyd said, “So you are telling me that you would prefer that these people go to hell, rather than to be led to Christ by someone other than yourself?” Silence.

When Floyd walked out of the meeting, John Lennox said, “Well, I witnessed a miracle tonight: You didn’t lose your temper.”

We stopped attending the church, and Floyd accepted more invitations to speak at conferences, so we were naturally gone on the weekends. A few people from the church said they wanted to join in our new church plant, but we tried to encourage them to stay in the church and to strengthen it. Four of our newest believers agreed to stay. In retrospect, we would not do that again. It’s not that they were “our babies,” but just as the evangelism was inadequate, so was the discipleship. It took them so much longer to grow in their faith because as Austrians, they were not deemed capable of doing what we knew they could.

And listening to Don Francisco kept us going and encouraged our difficult days.

Brother of the Son[2]

Jesus, all I want to do is follow
And give away the love You give to me
To shine a light in someone else's darkness
To say the words they need to hear to set them free.

Take this heart of stone and make it over
For all my life it's all I have to give
Fill it with your love and understanding
Show me how to feel and how to live.

Father, let your Spirit flow inside me
Till all that will not praise You is undone
Help me keep my feet upon the highway
And grow to be a brother of the Son.

When at last the Book of Life is opened
And accounts of all Your servants have been shown
Lord, let me bring somebody with me
And stand with all my friends before the throne.

Would You Like Help?

Through our infrequent visits to Vienna to teach the team of young people who were smuggling Bibles into Eastern Europe, we had gotten to know people in their mission organization. In fact, one of the elders from our church in Portland was their “Uncle Dick.” Their organization trained teams of 5-8 young people for one year. Then they sent them out to trusted missionaries in various countries for two years. Because we were friends with Uncle Dick, they considered us “trusted missionaries,” and asked us if we would like to have a team for two years.

The decision was difficult. On the one hand, we were so busy, and we definitely could use help. There were still 300,000 Austrians in Graz that needed to be reached. On the other hand, we only knew one of the young people, and we also knew that co-workers can bring problems with them.

But two years! We had done a lot in two years, and certainly they could do the same. Floyd wrote up a job assignment:

1. They would stay with us for a short time while they found their own apartments (an almost impossible thing to do).

2. They would attend German classes at the university or find tutors to learn German.

3. They would make friends of Austrians, introduce them to us, and bring them into existing Bible studies. They would free up Floyd to lead more Bible studies.

In February, Floyd flew back to their headquarters to spend two weeks with them, teaching them what we had learned and making sure that everyone knew what would be expected of them. They disagreed with some of Floyd’s analysis, but he figured they would learn soon enough. While there, the organization president asked if he would like another team the following year. Full of good will and lots of optimism, he agreed.

At the end of the trip, Floyd also visited Portland for a whirlwind week of presenting Austria. He was asked to take part in a wedding of some dear friends, and he shopped for all sorts of goodies that we would never have asked anyone to bring us.

Floyd returned to Graz, full of new energy for the ministry, although he was becoming disenchanted with the idea of having this team come. But they were coming.

The Cherry Song

P.S. – One night while Floyd was gone, Michael asked, “Mommy, could you sing The Cherry Song? The one about Daddy’s gonna carry me home?”

I finally figured out what he meant:

“Swing low, sweet chariot,

Comin’ for to carry me home . . ..”

What greater security could there be for a 5-year-old who can’t fully understand this haunting, comforting song? Daddy’s strong arms will lift me up and carry me home – home to my own room and my own bed with soft blanket and Raggedy Andy.

I’m thankful for a husband who means peace and comfort and security to our boys. I think he is communicating a picture of God.

How Will This Affect the Boys? – Part 3

Guilt. Don’t you love it? You think you are doing what pleases God to reach the part of the world in which you live, and guilt crawls in. Here’s part of my letter, written while Floyd was in the States, teaching the team and visiting our church in Portland:

One thought lingers. Or maybe I should say, keeps showing its ugly head. “Are we really doing what’s best for the boys?” Did you ever feel that way? It seems sometimes, like we’ve taken all the best things in life away from them – grandparents, a Christian school, Christian friends, and even the way Americans think. (It really hurts when Erich comes home from school and says, ”Did you know that the American President is putting bombs here in Europe?” I mean it’s true, but out-of-context and designed to raise an anti-American sentiment. [Plus, at that time, Russia was also putting bombs in Eastern Europe, and no one doubted that without a deterrent, the Russians would use them]) I guess most missionaries must often wonder if they shouldn’t go back to their home countries until their kids are grown. We just don’t know any other missionaries to ask.

There are benefits though – two languages, a broader world perspective (if we can manage to balance all the propaganda they’ll get in school), and the sometimes dubious privilege of “helping” to evangelize.

I hope this doesn’t sound too bleak. At the moment . . . I can be more objective. I guess the basic question is: “Do I have the right to make a ‘sacrifice’ that forces my children to also ‘sacrifice’?” This is really a prayer request – that Floyd and I don’t waste time feeling guilty. I really believe that Satan uses this to undermine our stamina.

Sue, faithful and caring, wrote right back:

There are many facets to your question, and you will find many ways to blame yourself for problems that arise along the way unless you can rest in the knowledge that God led you to Austria and that you are there by His design. If this is true, then this is the best place for the kids to be at this point in their lives, and you can trust God to work in their lives for their good (not always in ways immediately visible) and His glory. Is not God faithful to His Word – Romans 8:28? Is He not mindful of the needs of your little boys and of your desires for them? Re-read Psalm 37:3-7 in relation to your family; think through each verse with your boys in mind. Talk it through out loud with the Lord; He has not included these verses in His Word for our frustration, but for our encouragement. Just as an earthly father would not give his son a stone when he asks for bread, how much more does your heavenly Father have the good of His own at heart. I am praying that you will receive a fresh confident perspective as you rethink this problem. I asked the ladies at missionary class today to pray for you in this specific area and for your boys too.

How appropriate that this very day when I had purposed to write to you – that early in the morning I would hear a girl give a testimony to the impact her growing up years in Ecuador had had in the direction her life was going. She was the featured student on the Biola radio program. She spoke of hardships, disadvantages, and seeming difficulties, but a quality of life with missionary parents that equipped her for a productive goal-oriented life in a better manner than children of advantaged parents here in the U.S. She had incredibly mature values for a young college-aged woman, and I’m sure she will make her life count for God. The sacrifice that was forced on her was really for her best. As I reread what I have written, it really sounds preachy, but it’s the best I can offer of a one-sided conversation. I hope we can talk it through some time.

Budapest, Hungary

Amidst all of this, some of the believers in Budapest, Hungary invited us to come and teach their young people how to study the Bible. Hungary was communist at that time, and teaching the Bible was against the law. The contact with this group probably came through John Lennox.

We had just gotten over a month of chicken pox, and it was nice to go somewhere! We piled into the car, smuggling in laundry detergent and coffee as presents for our hosts.

We stayed in a dirty little hotel, so as not to be a financial burden on the dear saints. (If we stayed in a nice hotel, they would have still felt obligated to help pay our bill.) Also staying with the people is not good because they give hospitality far above what they can really afford. They are such wonderful people. One of the elders’ wives sent us on our way with bread, sausages and apples. I felt so guilty – like they would have no bread for the rest of the week, but we couldn’t refuse; that was their only way to pay us.

I taught seven girls ages 18-28 and Floyd taught seven young men. We taught them how to read the Bible, summarize paragraphs, ask questions, do word studies, and make applications.[3]

They were a part of the persecuted church, and their stories of sacrifice were humbling:

One young man attended a funeral of a colleague from work who was also a Christian. At the graveside, he stayed with some of the family to sing. Because of that, he has been informed by his department chief that he will be called in to the boss to ‘confess.’ He told us that he was not worried about what to say because the Holy Spirit would give him the words when the time came. He could very well lose his job.

One of the girls I taught has been such an outstanding, out-spoken witness at the university that she will find it almost impossible to find a job in teaching and translating although she is fluent in Russian, English and German.

One of the preaching elders of the church was a high school math teacher. The director of the school called him in and told him that unless he stopped preaching and teaching in the little church, he would be fired. He went home and told his wife and twelve children what was happening. The youngest said, “Daddy, I can’t imagine not having you preach on Sunday morning.”

He continued to preach and teach and was let go. The only job he could find with such a “horrible” resume was brick-making. The next Sunday, his wife wrapped his injured and bleeding hands, and he stood in the pulpit and preached. Eventually, the boss discovered that he was a math teacher, and asked him to tutor him so he could advance in his position in the company. All twelve of his children eventually became believers in Jesus.

At that time, I wrote: Over and over they told us to thank our home assembly in America for allowing us to come to Europe and learn German, so that we could spend a little time sharing with them, ministering the Word. I feel so sated – so over-fed and too blessed. I guess we have to be like Paul and know how to accept having more than someone else without feeling guilty – just thanking God for our blessings. It’s hard to describe. I hope you don’t mind when you send us money if sometimes we give it to people with greater need than our own. Perhaps I shouldn’t try to write all of this. It’s hard to know.

Family Time

The boys had school six days per week. Sundays were taken up with church meetings and after-church hospitality, and weekdays were filled with classes in the daytime and Bible studies whenever Floyd could fit them in. Therefore, Floyd fiercely guarded Saturday afternoons and evenings as Family Time. We had met – and were going to meet over the coming years – many missionary kids who hated their parents’ ministry because it was “God’s work,” and “God’s work” took their parents away from them. You can’t argue with “God’s work,” so many of those kids turned away from God. We were determined to include the boys in the work we were doing, and if we sensed that “the work” was turning them from God, we would make whatever change necessary. Erich and Michael both knew that if they were unhappy, we would leave the mission field and not look back. Our two precious sons were our #1 spiritual priority, and we let everyone know.

Two young men with whom Floyd was reading the Bible were talking one Saturday morning at a coffee shop. The one man was having difficulty with his relatives who were unhappy that he was reading the Bible with an “American cult leader.”

“I need to talk to Floyd today,” he decided.

“Floyd won’t talk to you today; it’s his Family Day.”

“But I have to go home this weekend, and I don’t know what to do or say.”

His friend shook his head sadly. “It won’t matter; Floyd’s kids are #1.”

The young man was convinced otherwise and called Floyd anyway.

“I’ve got to talk with you this afternoon before I go home.”

Floyd said gently, “I’m sorry, but Saturday is for our family. We already have plans. I’ll meet you on Monday. Name the time.”

“It’ll be too late! I’m going to die!” the young man wailed.

“Well, then.” Floyd chuckled, unswerving in his determination to keep family day, “I’ll come to your funeral on Monday.”

The young man was not happy, but he did survive the weekend with his family, and he also didn’t hate Floyd too much, for they continued the Bible study.

As the boys got older, and schedules became more and more cramped, Floyd took each boy out for a “date” every other week. They usually had pastries and hot cocoa, and the talks they had were usually about everyday things – but very important for two boys growing up.

Floyd also followed Dr. James Dobson’s advice from Preparing for Adolescence[4] and took each boy for an overnight vacation on his 11th birthday. When he took Erich, Floyd was prepared to talk to him about girls and sex, and told him he could ask any questions he wanted. Floyd was floored by the sophisticated questions, but he dealt honestly with each one. Then they went skiing.

A few years later, when it was time for Michael to go for his vacation, Floyd made the same offer.

“Oh, I already know all that,” Michael said. “Erich told me,” so they went skiing.

In reality, Erich had only told Michael enough that Michael knew when his time came for The Talk, he would rather go skiing.

A few years later, Michael sat in the car, embarrassed to death, while Floyd told him a few things he needed to know.

It’s Happening!

A young man named Hardi had been coming to the Bible study for perhaps six months, which meant that they were probably into chapter 7 of the Gospel of John. Floyd didn’t hurry through the book. It was very important to him that they discover what the Bible said for themselves. By asking questions, and letting them find the answers in the next verse, Floyd was teaching them principles of interpretation, which include context, hermeneutics, and application.

Floyd was very specific about reading the next verse and then the next one – never skipping ahead or even using parallel or explanatory texts from other books in the Bible. The reason for this was that all the cult leaders use “proof texts,” out of context, and they expect the unbeliever to accept the text as true, based on the authority of the teacher. Floyd would sometimes say, “There is an answer to your question, but it’s not in these verses we are reading today. So, let’s just keep reading. You will find your answers. I still have questions too.”

He even warned them, “I might be a cult leader; read it for yourself and let God teach you.”

One time, Hardi asked out of the blue, “How can people get to know God, if someone like you doesn’t come to them, or if they don’t have a Bible?”

Because Hardi was an honest seeker, Floyd said, “The answer to your question is not in the Gospel of John. It’s in Romans.”

“Can we read Romans?”

Floyd shook his head. “No, Romans is calculus. You need basic math right now.”

“Well, I’ll just read it on my own then,” he said with a cocky tilt to his head.

Floyd shrugged. “Okay. Do it.”

Hardi came back the next week and said, “Well, I tried to read Romans. You were right; I didn’t understand it. I guess I’ll just stay in John.”

But back to the point of the story: One week, Hardi came to the Bible study and told Floyd, “I have to go home this weekend. My mother is concerned that I am reading the Bible with an ‘American cult leader.’ She has asked the priest in our village to come for coffee and straighten me out. What should I do? Could you come with me?”

Floyd was not sure how things would turn out for Hardi, but he was not going home with him. “I won’t come with you. Just take your Bible and you will be all right.”

The next week, Hardi came to Bible study, chuckling.

“So how did your visit with the priest go?” asked Floyd, as he stirred sugar into his tea.

“Well, he started by asking me questions about what I was learning. I was so amazed that I knew all the answers. I guess it’s because of this Bible study that I was able to remember the answers to his questions. He seemed surprised, but he told my mother that whatever I was doing, it couldn’t do any harm. Then I thought I’d see if he could answer a couple questions I have – like why the Catholic Church says that infant baptism is necessary for salvation, but John 1:12 tells me that we must believe and receive, which a tiny baby cannot do.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he didn’t have a Bible and couldn’t answer right now, so I gave him my Bible and showed him the verse. He tried to say that good works were enough, but I knew that had nothing to do with it. I asked him a couple more questions, showing him the verses in my Bible, but suddenly he stood up, turned to my mother, and told her that I was lost – there was no hope for me.”

“Did he leave?”

“Yes, but I felt really stupid that I had stirred him up by asking the questions. I should have left things alone.”

“What did your mother say?”

“Well, I asked her if she was unhappy with me, and could I still come home on weekends.”

“And?”

“She laughed and said, ‘Well, you certainly showed the priest that you knew the Bible better than he did! Imagine that! Of course you can come home.’” Then he asked Floyd seriously, “How could I know so much? That priest studied for five years.”

“Well, you don’t know a lot, but the Holy Spirit gave you the words to say.”

Hardi thought a moment and then said, “Gimme another priest!”

The Snowball Gets Rolling

Each semester, which began either in October or February, Floyd would sign up for 12-14 classes. He would take two weeks to visit all of them and then would choose the classes based on two criteria: classes he needed to progress in the language and ones where there were a few friendly young men in them. He would invite the guys one-at-a-time out for lunch, and, in his conversation about our reasons for being in Austria, probe for any spiritual interest. His method was to ask them if they would like to read the Bible one time. If they said yes, he scheduled a time at a coffee shop or in their home. The reason for their home was that they felt more comfortable than they would have been in our home.

After Floyd read one time with them, he would ask if they enjoyed it and wanted to do it again. If they didn’t, that was the end of it. There was no time to pursue uninterested people, for there were many who were interested. He also was working with the Austrian Student Mission (affiliated with InterVarsity), and many of those believers had non-Christian friends. They wanted to learn from Floyd how to lead Bible studies, so he was very busy.

On top of all this, people who had never even known that there were two testaments in the Bible grew excited with what they were learning and told their friends about the Bible study. They would bring them to the studies, and Floyd would say, “Well, we don’t want to leave them behind. Let’s start over.” They would agree, and now some of the people in the study knew a few answers, and Floyd would have to remind them that he had never given any answers.

Floyd and I had gone to a Bible college, where you learned to evangelize using “The Four Spiritual Laws” from Campus Crusade (now called CRU). In it, you were encouraged to ask the person if he or she “would like to pray a prayer to receive Christ.” Well, perhaps it was cowardice or perhaps it was cultural savvy, but we never “prayed a prayer” with anyone in Austria. What usually happened was that Floyd would lead the evangelistic Bible studies through the school year and then everyone in Austria went on vacation. We would take the summer off, and often the students would call us in early September – long before the beginning of the semester – and ask if they could pick up the Bible study again. Floyd would, of course, agree, and as they began to read again, he would discover that they had been reading on their own all summer, and now their answers had a spiritual depth they had not had before. As we began to see them make changes in their lives (including deciding to get married), we could only conclude that they had given their life to the Lord during the summer.

There were disappointments as well. Peter went to Scotland to find God, and didn’t. (Surprise, surprise!) But he made it very clear he sure didn’t want to find God in the Bible. Both of our initial tutors dropped out of our lives, as did a couple, in which the wife wanted to sleep with her husband’s friend, and the husband didn’t seem to mind.

Little Joys

The Sunday we decided to go to Vienna for the first time to eat at MacDonald’s was a long day. A Very. Long. Day. One of our Austrian friends had told us that Vienna was two hours away, so we set out very optimistically, but after two and a half hours, we still had about sixty miles to go. Austrians tend to drive faster than Americans. When we finally found the fast food place, it was almost dark. We bought our hamburgers and more to take home. Then we turned back toward Graz, resigned to the long drive. The hamburgers were great, but we wouldn’t do that again.

It must have been late fall of 1982 when MacDonald’s opened in Graz. We were excited but decided that our first meal there would be on Thanksgiving Day, which, of course, was not an Austrian holiday. After school, we told the boys we had a surprise. MacDonald’s meant little to them, since all they knew of it was that long trip to Vienna. We ordered our food, and the manager came out and told us that because today was American Thanksgiving, the food was “on the house.” The boys wished we had ordered more!

After that, a visit to MacDonald’s was a treat. Austrians generally looked down their noses at the American chain, but the restaurants seemed to be doing very well, and it wasn’t just because we ate there! The manager had been trained in San Francisco and loved America. We managed to pry him away from the restaurant one time for a home-cooked meal at our apartment. He often gave away coffee and soft drinks in order to encourage people to come in. It was a little slice of America, and we had fun with it.

Sometime in early 1985, cable television came to Graz. We were a family that almost always had the first technology – the first computer from England (more on that later), the first video recorder, and now, cable TV. It was just fun to have more choices, and one of the channels was in English. Except for Michael, our German was now good enough that an evening watching an American detective show did no damage. One weekend, I stayed up all night, every night to learn all about the Augusta Master’s Golf Tournament. Not that I knew anything about golf, but the weather was stunning. Augusta in April was gorgeous! Graz in April was cold, smoky, and dreary.

We insisted that the boys read for half an hour a day to earn the privilege of watching their favorite programs. At one point I even gave them money at the beginning of the week, and they could buy their TV time. Michael stopped watching for a while and saved his money!

One of the great television pleasures was watching the Olympics. Unlike in America, in Europe, all programs are pre-empted and all events are shown live, no matter in what time zone the Olympics are held. Then there are reruns at more humane times and recaps every morning. We watched until we had square eyes!

Another pleasure was mail and packages from “home.” My friend Sue never forgot a birthday or anniversary, and often enclosed a check. She also sent cards on Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, and any other holiday that hit her fancy. She wrote to me faithfully, and I tried to keep up the correspondence. She sent packages, as did my mother, and several other friends.

“Uncle Dick” also sent birthday and anniversary cards. He actually sends to probably hundreds of missionaries around the world, and we still receive them to this day.

It was also fun to get packages, although most of them didn’t come in the mail, but came with a visitor. The customs laws in Austria used to be very arbitrary, and a couple times, we sent back the package because the fee was just too expensive for whatever was in the box – and we usually didn’t know. We loved getting corn chips, brown sugar, cheddar cheese, and the boys were thrilled with little cars and books in English, which we would read at bedtime. Sue sent us clothing – usually things we would never buy ourselves. We were so glad when people asked us what we would like, and we rarely got anything we didn’t love.

Ready to Start a Church?

Remember the checklist from page one?

  • Fly to Europe
  • Drive to southern Germany for language school.
  • Learn German J
  • Move to Austria
  • Evangelize and learn from missionary experts
  • Plant churches

This was the final goal: to plant an indigenous church in the city of Graz and to train the men and women to lead and run their own church, so that we could leave and plant another one somewhere else. Was the handful of believers ready? Were there even enough of them?

By this time, we were not attending the German missionary’s church anymore. One lady, Cecilia had left with us. She had gotten saved several years before we came to Graz through the Austria Student Mission Bible studies that had been advertised in the newspaper and met around the corner from her apartment. She was a nurse (considered low-class work in Austria) who had fallen in love with one of her patients, an elderly government official who had been a nobleman before the Second World War. They had a daughter in her early teens.

When Cecilia got saved, she asked how she could witness to her husband, and the students wisely suggested that she say nothing and just show by her life that Jesus had changed her.

At the end of the first year, he finally said, “All right, I give up; why are you so different – different in a good way?”

“I’d rather show you than tell you. Would you come to meet the people who helped me change my life?”

They walked around the corner to the Bible study and he began to attend as well.

As a nobleman, he had been educated in the classics and he could read Latin and Greek. That began to prove useful to the Bible study, as he was able to read the New Testament in Greek. His health was frail, so he rarely attended the little church, but Cecilia was very faithful. When the German missionary refused to start a Bible study in the church, she arranged a Bible study at her home for her husband. She invited a friend of theirs, Reinhard, who was a researcher of Austrian philosophy at the university, was a believer, and also knew Ancient Greek. When they discovered that Floyd had studied Greek at seminary, they invited him to join.

So, to start a church, we had eight adults that we could count on, eight children (including our own), and a team of seven, arriving in May. That seemed like enough. We just needed a place to meet.

Beginning of May 1983 – The Team Arrives

Sometimes you don’t know what you’re getting into!

Floyd drove to Vienna to pick up the seven young people who were going to be our responsibility for the next two years. They climbed all five flights of stairs to our apartment, jet-lagged and eager. I opened the door to them, and the team leader’s wife looked me up and down and said, “You’re not big enough to control Floyd.” Whoa, we hadn’t seen that coming! If I hadn’t been swept away in the chaos of giving them supper and showing them their sleeping places, I might have considered her comment a foreshadowing of things to come.

A few weeks before the team’s arrival, Floyd had met an American couple who was moving back to the States and needed someone to finish up their lease. The apartment was roomy, inexpensive, and we already had dreams of using it for our first meeting place for our little church that was about to be launched. We told them that the married couple would take it, and all we had to do was bring them by to sign papers. However, the new couple didn’t like the fact that they hadn’t been allowed to look for their own place, so when they saw it, they decided they didn’t want it. They didn’t realize how difficult it would be to find something else or the spot in which they put us.

When I read my letters from this period, I am amazed at all we were doing. Floyd was still attending classes and leading many Bible studies, the boys were still in school, and I was struggling with chronic skin allergies, and all the allergy testing had revealed nothing. I was now cooking and shopping for eleven people.

Mid-June: I feel quite weary yet grateful for the strength God has given me and for the prayers offered for us all. Seven weeks is a long time to have visitors. When they were all here, the four girls slept in the large back bedroom that used to be our bedroom. Our boys now have the little guest room (it’s easier to clean). The married couple – the “team leaders” – have the living room, and the one single fellow slept on the balcony until the weather got bad. He and some of the girls went out and made enough friends that they were finally invited to move in with Austrians temporarily. These, of course, are also the nicest ones to have around: they are relatively thoughtful and helpful. Finally, though, the ones remaining here are either unwilling or don’t know how to help. So there are fewer people here now, but it’s more work. I am also bothered by being told: “Did you know that such-and-so is broken?” Or torn or won’t work anymore. I’m tired, and right now in the middle, so I won’t say anymore.

They all have apartments into which they can move in July . . ..

About things getting broken around here: I, too, have a lot to learn about dying to self. At least I don’t have babies puddling on the floor!

Floyd, although strict with the individual team members, was more upbeat:

Things are going well in our relationships with the team. A couple of them thought at first that they would get here and start right out doing their own thing. That lasted about ten minutes – when they tried to order some water at a restaurant! [Note: if you order water at a restaurant or café, you will get a glass or bottle of sparkling mineral water, no ice. Americans are famous for disliking it. You have to ask for “Leitungswasser” – tap water, which the Austrians generally consider undrinkable.] After having not believed some of the things we had told them about housing and Austrian thinking, they told us after one week that they sure were glad we were directing the ministry.

Austrians in the Bible studies were very aware of our added pressure. Some of the people in the Bible studies helped by providing supper or by inviting some or all of us to their homes for meals. Most of the team members were very helpful, dividing up cooking, washing up, cleaning, and laundry duties. Floyd and I did most of the shopping, however, because we knew how and had the language.

The team leader’s wife announced on the first day that her husband did not eat sugar, and they would all appreciate it if I avoided it. That really made cooking for a crowd difficult; I had planned on making lots of cakes to fill people up. I readjusted and learned to make inexpensive meals, avoiding sugar. Many years later, one of the girls told me that she (and the rest of the team) had thought I was the “health food nut” because I had avoided sugar the whole time they stayed with us!

The team’s first assignment from Floyd was to buy an all-day streetcar/bus ticket and ride every line to both ends. Graz had seven streetcar lines and maybe a few more bus lines than that, so it wasn’t a difficult thing to accomplish. It gave them an idea where they could live or would want to live and how public transportation worked. I used public transportation all the time, having given up any hope of getting a driver’s license. They would save a lot of money if they didn’t all buy cars.

Second assignment was to sign up for German classes at the university – the same classes we had taken at the beginning. Then Floyd divided them up and took one or two to each Bible study so they could see what we were doing and meet Austrians who knew other Austrians.

The most difficult assignment would be to find a place to live. Motivated by cramped quarters, one of the girls accepted the invitation of a lady in one of the Bible studies, and moved onto her couch temporarily. The team leaders eventually found their own apartment, which was more expensive than ours, but we were glad they had found something they liked. The last team member struggled with culture shock the most and preferred to read on her bed. Eventually she found a suitable apartment.

I had been getting to know the neighbor lady across the hall. She was German, and had grown up in New England. She had studied in Graz, met her husband, and they had two girls about the same age as our boys. She was not very happy living in Austria, but her kids were there, and she made regular trips back to the States. We often had coffee or tea together, knitted, took a sewing course together, shared books, and talked about everything except the Lord Jesus.

There were times I had to get away from the crowded apartment. I would escape to the neighbor’s apartment across the hall. We would drink tea, and I could write letters while she studied for the classes she taught at the university. Sometimes we knit or did cross-stitch, and sometimes we just talked.

In John 13:35, Jesus tells his disciples, “By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” My escaping to her home was probably not a good choice evangelistically. Over tea, I would often vent my frustration at someone’s thoughtlessness, or I would just express my overwhelming weariness. I was failing to let her know that I also loved these people enough to let them take over my home and my life. After the team moved out – and several times after that – I made a point to ask her to consider reading the Bible with me or someone else.

She said, “Christine, it’s so sweet that you are concerned for my soul, but I really am not interested.” I have often wondered if I had communicated more love for the believers in my house, if she might have been more interested in the Gospel. Floyd has to remind me, however, that everyone makes his or her own decision whether to seek God or not. My neighbor was, at that time, not seeking.

[1] Dr. David Gooding, http://www.myrtlefieldhouse.com/en/?gclid=cjwkcajwxev3brbbeiwaib_pwkvftd-xq-wojz1m1tb71tgjjuty351_zhn_vejkzhfengltvu9_2hocq_mqavd_bwe

[2] Source: Musixmatch

[3] Christine Schneider, You Can Read and Understand the Bible, (Spokane, WA: Keybobby Books, 1995).

[4] Dr. James Dobson, Preparing for Adolescence: How to Survive the Coming Years of Change, (Grand Rapids: Revell, 2006).

We Never Saw It Coming: An Introduction to Christian Missions (textbook)

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