Life in the Afternoon - much more than a story of
soaring - and reflections of that on my life.
by P.K.Odendaal. 23 October 2011.
Part 7 - My Personal Testimony ... Freedom and Peace for ever.
I started this story off with the intention of writing it only in one or two parts, about a specific enjoyable soaring flight, but one thing led to another - as it usually does in life - and I am now find myself in Part 7, observing how the thought thermals of my mind developed around me. Yes, I was personally involved in this flight, but on reflection, it seems to me that I was also just an observer and an onlooker as this story developed and unfolded into much more than that.
I must confess that I have no free will, when I start to
write, as it just flows out in a never ending stream. I can resist it, if I try
hard enough, but I do not wish to to upset the muse or exercise my free will
unduly.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would
end up with a Part 7, and that Part 7 onwards would be a personal testimony,
but such are the thermals in life and in writing, that one does not know
beforehand to which cloud a certain thermal may take you, and which thoughts
would reign supreme in that thermal.
Thermals, like life and anything which happens to us, does
not show us beforehand what their destinations are. A small thermal or
whirlwind, which is a very small energetic thermal, develops at ground level
and is influenced by various factors, of which the wind is the main one. The
wind blows this thermal away from its source and it may only develop as a cloud
many kilometers away. If one could see the cloud belonging to the endpoint of
the thermal, one may decide beforehand not to take that one, if you do not like
its cloud. And so in life, we do not know to which opportunity or trouble a
specific act may lead. We follow it, sometimes blindly, and sometimes end up in
very unfavourable situations. That is the magic, challenge and excitement of
life.
Now that I think about it, it is not incidental or accidental
that Part 7 takes this turn, as seven is the perfect number and a prime number,
making it extra special for me.
In part, I must confess that I did not have the slightest
idea that soaring would draw so many readers, comments and interest. Although
soaring is one of my favourite pastimes, I think the mapping of life to that
made a difference, as each one of us go through the same type of questions, experiences,
joy and grief in our lives, and soaring is just so life-like, that it applies
almost without seams and stitches, because on some more basic level it is all
the same as life. Thus my story name, Life in the Afternoon, directly linking
the ups and downs of soaring to the ups and downs of life. There is also always
the possibility of Death in the Afternoon as well - so to speak.
Your continued interest has inspired me to take it to deeper
and more profound and sublime levels, metaphors and meanings, as I went along.
In the end, my own perspectives and evaluation of life, liberty and the pursuit
of happiness gained tremendously by it, as I was in part talking to myself, the
way I would normally do in the glider.
My personal testimony ... where do I begin and where do I
end ... now that the whole seems so much larger than the sum of its parts; or
is it vice versa? In a way, I feel quite strongly to talk more about my
failures and disappointments, than about my victories, as I have learnt much
more from them. As the saying goes - my disappointment is God's appointment -
and so it was in my life.
I would classify my exploration of spirituality and religion
like Henry Ford's adage about his success. He said that his success came from
1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. In the beginning mine was 1% inspiration
and 99% disappointments. However, today, because of this doubt, suffering or inexperience,
I forgot which, I have grown to become accustomed to inspiration, and the disappointments have become exciting,
knowing each time this occurs, God was
ready to teach me a new lesson.
Scripture says that : Heb 5:8 Though he were a Son, yet learned he
obedience by the things which he suffered;
If He learned to be obedient by what he suffered, what
better am I than He is? Thus I will try to include many of my own mishaps,
shame and disgrace in this testimony.
When the Holy Spirit started to talk to me, many years ago, in
tones of understanding, love and urgency, I was not sure where it would all lead
to, but I knew that I was alone with the Holy Spirit and with God and I trusted
them. In the Storm it was only me, the glider and the storm. I tried to keep the
glider straight and upright, but I lost control now and then, and what is more,
in the turbulence, I could no longer read the instruments. The vibration and
turbulent movement caused them to blur, and I had to go on instinct and
feeling, a notion that is so well developed within my senses in these
circumstances, as a bird is comfortable with driving a car. One does not
realize it, but in these circumstances one gets an orientation disability or
sickness called Vertigo, and your senses become as reliable as the guest
speaker at a Liar's Convention. You have no idea where up or down is, whether
you are turning or flying straight.
Our spiritual lives start off the same way.
When the Holy Spirit came into my life, it was only me, GOD and the storm and GOD
was BIGGER than the storm.
But I had Vertigo. I did not know what was right and what
was wrong, not having discerned the fruit from the tree of Knowledge of Good
and of Evil yet.
Although I like to write satirically about serious matters
as well, I wish to keep this part seriously only, but I need to digress
frequently into the realms of the superficial and mundane, to prevent tears
from streaming down my cheeks as I relive the emotional and spiritual joy and pain
which accompanied my introduction into, and even my growth in, the spiritual
world.
On reflection now, mine was not a step taken in faith - it
was an intellectual excursion or journey, under the mentorship of the Holy
Spirit, in these latter years, but in the beginning it came naturally, not even
by faith.
When I was about ten years old, I found myself in a strange
situation, no doubt brought on by the things my grandmother taught me. When
friends would visit my father, I would read from the Bible to their children,
and otherwise entertain them for hours with the many stories I read in the
Bible, or which my grandmother told me.
That was it. I did not do it by choice, or by coercion, or
by inclination. I thought that that was how it was meant to be.
I can also remember how my sister and I would join my mother
and grandmother during those evenings, singing gospel songs until the tears ran
down our cheeks - now realizing, on reflection, that it was due to the nearness
and unction of the Holy Spirit. And that while my father was away on business
or work. It was like Heaven indeed.
My grandmother introduced me to this very personal God for
whom I was an important friend, and she told me the song 'What a friend we have
in Jesus' - the most moving, concise and
descriptive narrative of an intimate friendship and its essential elements ever
written. Although this song moved my heart when we sang it, it was only decades
later that I experienced the truth and depth of its content.
It was also decades later that I came back to the truth of
what my grandmother told me, having gone through the rituals, laws, cosmetics,
doubts, falsehoods and even abuse and persecution of Churches whose big shots spoke
of an impersonal God. I had to go full circle, before I could realise and experience the simplicity of the
gospel and of a personal God and of the truths my grandmother told me. Of
course, the contribution by my mother was as significant, but she was very busy
tending to us, whilst my grandmother had more leisure time to spend with us.
I still have a Bible, now being used by my wife, which my
mother gave me when I went to high school, and it has the date 17 October 1959
written next to Rev. 3:20, the day I gave my heart to Jesus, when a person from
the Bible Society visited our hostel in Stellenbosch.
From then on, it was mostly downhill (spiritually) for me.
I got a taste of the world, of all things bad and evil, in stead of bold and
beautiful, acquired the usual bad friends and became one myself later, and this
process, which took its toll over the next twenty years, left me way off the
straight and narrow path, more than the 10% I hinted to in a previous part of
this story - so much so that I was in danger of missing a continent - the
everlasting one.
I was so intent on learning what the outside world had to
offer when I left school, after spending more than seven years in hostel
prison, that I told everyone that I was going out into the world and that I
will be trying to experience everything without exception, to find out what
life was about - and so I did. Fortunately I did not go into drugs which was
not in vogue at that stage. I might not have escaped from that with impunity.
I must also relate the view of a university friend of mine,
with the name of Jan 'Brode' - the latter meaning bread, but not being his
correct surname. He studied Law and told me that the Bible was nothing but
Jewish propaganda, and I, being the ignorant fool that I was for a big part of
my life, believed him.
One of my friends, who was in the Reformed Church told me
that in their Church you could do anything with impunity - even dance and drink
- you are just not allowed to enjoy it.
I, on the other hand, was looking for a place where I could
do everything I wanted AND enjoy it - that was Freedom. And if I could do it
with impunity - that was Peace. I was coming closer to my goal which is summed
up by the words of the gospel song : 'I want God's way to be my way, as I
journey here below.'
I was thus very far from the truth and from God, when He
found me one day in need of help.
Vain-glory.
As I write this testimony in the form of a story, I try to
move away from centre stage, where I and my glider have been throughout this
story so far, so that God and Jesus Christ can move onto centre stage, where They
belong, but I find it impossible to do that, as it was I who experienced these
things and I need to tell of my own impressions, experiences and thoughts. This
of course opens the door for vainglory, a spiritual hazard we are all subject
to, and which I wish to avoid at all costs. In fact, if this story is for my
glorification, I will stop here and there will be no further story. However,
many people before me have done such testimonies, only for the glory of God,
and I just might also be successful. It was exactly those testimonies which
motivated me or moved me to serve such a personal God in Spirit and in Truth.
And whilst I am busy with vainglory now, let me start off by
warning myself, and perhaps you, of the dangers of this impostor.
The whole idea of being a Christian is that I should become
less and God should become more in me. And then all goes well - until I see
that things are going too well with me, as I have access to His unlimited power
and resources. After a time, I get to think that it is really I who am that
good, and I start to use this for my personal gain and even abuse it.
Do you think that this is not important and cannot be?
I can assure you that millions of Christians have died over
the centuries because of just this. Church leaders who abused the privileges
they received from God, were the instigators of programs such as the Spanish
Inquisition and other similar persecutions of Christians. In the process, the
Church, of course, got a very bad name which still clings to it up until today.
In this I am reminded of a (learned) person who said that he will never drive a
car in Paris. He just might see a priest
with his black garb crossing a street, and he might not be able to resist the
temptation of running over him.
In fact, during the persecution of the Cathars, Huegenots
and during the Spanish Inquisition and the Reformation, more than two million Christians
were killed, and even today, as I write, more than one billion Christians in
various Churches are abused and prohibited from serving a personal God in a
personal relationship. This is by being forced to obeying the Church and its
rulers (sorry - officers ... or was that
managers), in stead of God.
To move to a lighter mode, I cannot but bring in two
witnesses to try and illustrate this on a more basic level.
Mac Davis wrote the beautiful song 'Oh, Lord, it's hard to
be humble'. Of course, the song is not really his view, but he was placed in
this euphoria of luxury, when he was booked into a very luxurious hotel room,
which he thought he did not deserve, but nonetheless, it gave him this feeling
that he was quite someone.
It is the same type of accusation Christian had to face on
his way to the Celestial City when he met Apollyon. (from The Pilgrims Progress
by John Bunyan - a must read for every Christian)
Apollyon (the devil) : ... and
when thou talkest of thy Journey, and of what thou hast heard and seen, thou
art inwardly desirous of vain-glory in all that thou sayest and doest.
How can one help but become that, when one has been in
contact with the most High God? Still - it is a trap, and one should stay
humble ... which is so hard to be - for an egoist par excellence, like me.
My Earlier Church
Experiences.
When I was twenty-nine years old, a colleague of me, and
friend then, asked me one day whether I knew that God worked today in the same
way that he did in the New Testament, with signs and wonders and through
prophets. I told him that, if that was so, I would be happy to join in and go
to Church with him, but naturally I was very skeptical, as the Dutch Reformed
Church, of which I was nominally a member of, did not believe in a personal
God, much less in the working of the Holy Spirit.
Yes, by this time, I had again made a habit of going to
Church, even though I was against going, egged on partly by the hypocrisy of
the Elders and Deacons. I had nonetheless gone there now and then, due to my
own 'hypocrisy' - that of satisfying the desire of a 'good' friend, or taking
the children to Sunday School, or as a smoke screen to gather some points in our
Church going society.
At high school, I used to go to the Presbyterian Church in
Stellenbosch with my English hostel hog friends, mainly because there was a
horticultural garden behind the Church, where we could smoke before and after
services. In the process, I started to like the Reverend, finding out that he
was actually a human being - a God fearing human being!!! - a person I could
respect and like - contrary to my experience with the impersonal Dominees of
the DRC, who preached formally of this impersonal God, who would whack me
every time I thought of any iniquity - and whom I could not talk to.
Every Sunday the Dominee would read these 'instructions from
God' to us : 'God is in Heaven and you are on earth, therefore your words
should be few.' What bad advice. Today I know that talking to God in abundance or
profusion is the most satisfying activity or pastime - when you are glad, when
you feel sad, when you are cross with Him, when you doubt Him, when you admire
His creation, when you wish to praise Him, when you are in grief and pain -
after all - that is what the song : 'What a friend we have in Jesus' says and
means.
Of course, I was not allowed to attend the Presbyterian
Church, as I was a Boer, and they were Englishmen, and the Second Boer War was
still fresh in everybody's mind - we went through that history every year at
school. We were warned against the 'Roomse Gevaar' (Catholic Danger) and the
'Rooi Gevaar' (British Imperialism). The 'Rooi Gevaar' would eventually peter
out and make way for a 'Swart Gevaar' (Black Danger) - because we always had to
look out for any 'Gevaar' - from the Pope to the Present; all the while not
realising that we were the 'Wit Gevaar' (White Danger). But, I was a rebel, and
I went to that Church, even if it was only to tempt fate or our hostel warder -
I forgot which.
Later, in the Air Force, a colleague of mine, a few years
older than I, took me to the 'Grootte Kerk' in Cape Town every Sunday evening,
after which we would go to the City Hall, where the Cape Town Symphonic Orchestra
would perform some classical pieces. My exposure to the 'Grootte Kerk' was more
pleasant architecturally than spiritually, and the symphonic orchestra was
right up my alley.
Up to then, I have never been exposed to classical music -
or any music at all for that matter - apart from the gospel songs I sang with
my grandmother. The other type of popular music, transmitted from Radio
Lorenzo Marques (LM Radio), I was not allowed to listen to - it was said to be
directly from the devil. Now that I know what music from the devil really sounds
like, I find those old songs as tame as Sunday School stuff by comparison.
Little did I know at that stage, that I had this insatiable
love for music and I play five musical instruments today. Music to me, then, was
painful; emotional and physical pain and grief in the form of my piano lessons.
I had to suffer for six years from this plaque, before my father would budge,
and let me off the hook for that - always interceded for by my mother - so I
knew exactly what intercession was, when I learned about that later.
At the end of the evening, we would return to the Air Force
Base in Milnerton by bus, sitting between drunken Capeys (as we used to call
them) and losing all our newly acquired cultural, architectural and musical
experiences of the evening.
When I completed my navigation course at the Air Force, I
went back to Stellenbosch to attend university, and went back to the
Presbyterian Church. Not that it was really such a spiritual outing, but I
liked the Reverend. Nowadays, when I pass the Presbyterian Church in the city I
now live in, I still think of my days in the Presbyterian Church in
Stellenbosch. Unfortunately, the slogan on the Witbank Presbyterian Church has
plagued me (or is it plaqued me - pun not intended) for more than thirty years
on my way to work, because it stands there in glass embroidered form for
everyone passing there, to see who God really is : GOD IS A CONSUMING FIRE ;
and the embroidering contains such big flames, much like those of Hell - I can
only guess.
When I married a Christian lady after graduating, I had to
go to the Dutch Reformed Church (DRC) again
- against my will, and as so often happens in that Church, if you are held in
some esteem, mostly faking it, due to some learning or money, you get elected
to the Offices of the Church quite quickly, and so I soon found myself to be
the Chairman of the Deacons, being only twenty three years of age - in this
congregation of the poorest of the poor. My job was mainly to extract money
from the very, very poor members of that congregation in Doornfontein and
Bertrams, in Johannesburg, and to see that the Dominee pass that money on to
the Synod on an assessed affordability basis - a Synod who had more money than
they could use. Most of the people I took money from, gave me their last few Rands,
the last of their food money, but that was not my concern - I had to feed a
bigger Giant - a Giant who saw it fit to invest the money of those poor people
in Defence Obligations - to fund an inequitable and unnecessary war. There was
no intercession allowed here, however hard I tried to persuade our Dominee to
have a heart and to resist the Synod.
If one pages through history, one finds numerous similar
instances where the Church was willing, able and ready to fund wars against
their adversaries, contrary to the Bible which teaches that they should love
them.
My main embarrassment during my tenure as a deacon in this
congregation, was when my first child had to be sprinkled with water at the age
of three months, and I had to tell the Dominee why I wanted him to sprinkle her
- a normal procedure in these situations. I did not know why the Church
required that of me, and I wondered why he did not ask my daughter himself, but
I dare not. In any case, I consulted my elder brother who was always of great
help in such embarrassing situations, and he told me that it would suffice if I
only told the Dominee that it was necessary because of a covenant God made with
Abraham. I knew very little of God, much less of Abraham, and nothing of a covenant
- I had no clue - but I was saved by the bell. It is quite
embarrassing to answer these questions if, as a deacon, you are supposed to
instruct other people in the fine print of this Church Dogma.
During that time you could only become a big shot in that
Church if you became a 'Broederbonder', a sinister organization like the Free
Masons. I never had any inclination to join either of them. A friend of mine,
whom one of these organizations tried to recruit as a member, told them that if
one day he should lose all his self esteem, he would join them. I do not know
why this Church wanted to favour this 'elect' organization, when Christ was
willing to take care of all nations :
Luk 10:34 And went to him , and bound up his
wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him
to an inn, and took care of him.
Rev 14:6 And I saw another
angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto
them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and
people,
I will tell you later about my break with that Church in another
part of this story. It was an event that was brewing for thirty years and had
to come to a point.
Next time - Part 8 -
The Search Begins.
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