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God Encounters

It didn't happen often, but whenever the loud, outside words and world of fundamental Christianity intruded into our quiet Quaker world, I remembered it.

First there was Mr. Benz. In 1961, my father was sponsored by the Ford Foundation to help establish a library in Iraq. For almost a year, we lived in Baghdad. As you can imagine, there were no other Friends in Baghdad. For church, we joined most other Americans for services at the United States Information Agency (USIA) building near our home. We brothers attended Sunday school. Mr. Benz, a neighbor who lived down the street from us, was our Sunday school teacher.

Mr. Benz was a “you must be born again,” “you must be saved” evangelist, probably a Baptist. Of course, with children in his class from many backgrounds and denominations, he had to be careful, so his hell-fire manner simmered just below the surface. There was always a glint in his eyes when he went over the Sunday school materials with us and talked about Jesus, sometimes injecting more than the material covered. He was covert, but it became apparent to us: this Jesus was demanding something from us, this Jesus of his wanted a decision. It was a bit heavy for us, but we would always lighten it up after class by making fun of him on the drive back home.

For me, although Mr. Benz made an impact, I didn't follow through and make that decision for Christ. What I did do was begin to pray to God. I started to talk to God and pray to God all the time. And what would a nine year old boy need to pray to God about? To keep a fearful thing from happening. And what was that fearful thing? I'm embarrassed to say, but here it is: vomiting. I had thrown up once, at the nurse's office at school, and I hated it. So in the days and weeks afterwards, whenever I felt like throwing up again, I would sing, I would pray, I would plead. I only threw up that once, so was my praying effective? I guess it was, but the effort was exhausting. The real effect was that I began to believe God in a personal way.

There were other God encounters during those Quaker years.

One Sunday in the mid sixties, two evangelists arrived at our quiet Friends meeting house. The silence was irresistible to them, and they began to quote scripture. They would quote verses like “The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life,” or “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son.” We were not used to hearing foreign verses like these. We were more comfortable with verses like “Blessed are the peacemakers” or “God is light” or “God is love.” Once they finished one verse, they wouldn't wait long in the ensuing silence before they would recite another one. This didn't give much time for Mrs. Potter or Mrs. Mendez to gather their thoughts and respond with their own inspirations.

I remember enjoying the break from our usual routine, but Mr. Dungan was not amused and finally got up and escorted our visitors out of meeting. So much for tolerance. They were, of course, taking advantage of our silent meeting, not following the etiquette or protocols, but would George Fox have done as much? At the door, our visitors left some Bible tracts for follow-up on some of the verses we heard.

By the late sixties, when my brothers and I were in high school, we became more mobile, and God encounters outside our world of Friends became more frequent.

One encounter I remember was “The Group.” Everyone in school seemed to be excited about it. I attended their meeting one evening in a church somewhere with others who were curious. There, in a large basement room filled with high-school students sitting on the floor, an older man stood up and led us in prayer. And then he began to quote scriptures about a beast. I had never heard about “the beast” before. To this day, I can still see the beach, the shoreline where we sat, the red-tinged sky, as this multi-headed beast emerged from the sea before us, dripping water as it arose, and came ashore. It was fantastic. And the enthusiasm of all these high-school students was understandable. Apparently most of them had never been introduced to this beast either. I didn't make the connection of the Beast to the Antichrist (as a Friend, I had also never heard about the Antichrist), but the imagery was appealing, like watching a dark, doomsday animation, like seeing Godzilla attack Tokyo for the first time.

Of our high-school classmates, the one who became most closely associated with and involved with The Group was Tom Van Dragt. He continued to attend after most everyone else stopped attending. He began to carry his Bible to school. He would talk to us about The Group and encourage us to attend. He would share his experiences with God. But after a time, when his Bible was transformed into a Book of Mormon, I was disappointed. I didn't know anything about the Mormons at that time, but the Bible seemed fantastic enough without needing help. As Tom had become an outcast, I was rooting for him, for God, but when the Mormon emerged, it was harder to do (and easier to stay away from The Group).

Being a Friend does not require a conversion experience. When you have the “spark of the divine” inside you, there is no need to become born again. Everyone already has “that of God” inside them. And belief in Christ? That's fine, but it is not required.

The real decision all young Friends must make (at least the young men) is how to respond to the military. So as I neared draft age, my thoughts and beliefs became more focused. And when I made my first written submission to the Kent County draft board to be classified as a conscientious objector (CO), my mother helped me with the words. “I believe that all life is sacred.” “I believe that there is that of God in everyone.” “I believe that all men and women have the spark of the divine in them, and that to kill others is wrong.” I was all ready to go, not feeling the least bit hypocritical that the words were not entirely my own or that I may not have fully believed them.

In 1970, my birth date draft number was selected. It was relatively high, well above the numbers being called, so I never had to defend those written beliefs. I was off the hook, both with the military and my mother.

As I entered college, not having to worry any longer about being a Quaker, I became ripe for a conversion experience of my own.

Next up — Gods and Men — Finding God beyond the Quakers.