For the Sender (A Few Thoughts)

This is a book that can be read (and re-read) in one or two sittings. 

I did have to do a bit of re-reading since I wasn't picking up on what Alex Woodard was doing until I got to the chapter at the end of the book called "The Box" and read the line from Steinbeck, "Maybe all men got one big soul ever'body's a part of." 

That's when Woodard, reflecting on his life as revealed gradually through snippets of song lyrics, letters, and disjointed narrative, makes the point. Excerpts of letters from four very different people, unrelated events in the author's life, 12 songs, plus 1. Is there a thread, a connection? There is, but he had to discover it, and the undiscerning reader had to wait for it. That's when I had to go back and re-read, though in fact the structure of the book is revealed in the table of contents (if one had eyes to see). 

It's been a long time since a book made me cry like this. 

Last month, I saw a performance of Woodard's newest For the Sender project called, "Love Letters from Vietnam" at North Coast Repertory Theater in Solana Beach. Performing with him was the beautiful Molly Jenson, the daughter of a dear friend, who has collaborated with him on many of these songs. Molly can be seen here in this short promotional video. 

For more information about Woodard's For the Sender project, go here. 

Always save ticket stubs!

Of course I'll wait for the author to sign his book!

The beautiful Molly with her dear sweet mom, Mary.

. . . And Church Happened (A Personal Response)

A few comments about a book I just finished, called  . . . And Church Happened, by Walt Hoffman [ellipses are part of the title].  This is less a review and more a personal reaction to the events described in this book. In fact, I wouldn’t even recommend this book to anyone who wasn’t directly or indirectly involved in a period of recent Christian history known colloquially as "The Jesus Movement,” which took place during the late 60's and 70's, and tapered off in the 80's.   

I became a Christian during that period, in January 1979, to be precise, and almost immediately got swept into that movement, though at the time I had no conception of a grander scheme or movement or whatever. I didn’t grow up going to church, had no interest in or appreciation of church history, had no point of reference, nothing to compare to or rebel from, no context, no pretext, no subtext, nothing. Just me and Jesus Christ, a midnight encounter (I was slightly stoned) in a studio apartment on the corner of 14^th and Electric in Seal Beach, California. Christians call it being “born again.” So do I.

I said this is less a review and more a personal response for several reasons. My conversion and subsequent church experience took place not only around the time the events of this book were coming to a close but also in the same geographical vicinity (Orange County). More significantly, the events of this book parallel almost to the letter my own involvement with a church remarkably similar to the church described in this book, with several key differences. It’s those differences that I need to focus on.

The events of this book span a period of time between 1969 and 1989, so I read this book from the standpoint of trying to place myself (peripherally) in all that was taking place in the early 70's. I was still in high school when their Bible study began, and I became a Christian and started back to school (CSULB) as a transfer level junior in January of 1979 right around the time the people in this book were becoming a church. The ministry I eventually got involved in was founded by a man named George Geftakys (headquartered in Fullerton). I was deeply entrenched in that ministry around the time the church Hoffman describes (located in Garden Grove) was coming to an end. So there’s probably a bit of overlap in terms of what was happening a few miles up the freeway between these churches, but a totally different trajectory.

The thing is, in the early years of my involvement with the Geftakys ministry, we, very much like the people in Walt’s church, believed "and church happened," as well. Nearly everything I read in this book was familiar to me, with a few exceptions. Yet, as I said, it was those exceptions that made the difference, chiefly, the Geftakys church was ultimately injurious while the Monday Night Bible Study church was apparently healthy.  While the Geftakys ministry could rightly be labeled, if not a cult, then cult-like, the Monday Night Bible Study was a vibrant expression of Christ’s church. Nothing more, nothing else.

Back to the book (for interested readers). Key events include--

·      the conversion of a troubled young man named Floyd in 1969;

·      Floyd’s role as a camp counselor a few years later and the nine boys he mentored;

·      the decision by those boys to continue the bond that began in camp by meeting weekly at what became known as Monday Night Bible Study, which would be taught by the author (Walt Hoffman);

·      the growth (in numbers) of Monday Night Bible Study and the subsequent decisions the group made to adapt;

·      the growing awareness that God was doing something, but what?;

·      the process of acknowledging what the group had for years resisted: the possibility that Monday Night Bible Study might, in fact, be an actual church;

·      the collective decision to become an actual church;

·   the steps the group took to be sure everything they did was grounded in Scripture;

·      the gradual diminishing (in numbers) of the church;

·   the eventual dissolution of the church.

That last bullet point was a new concept to me. On page 193, Hoffman wrote, “As we were never called to permanence, we recognized this could be a sign that God was finishing his work called Monday Night.”

Never called to permanence? I circled that sentence and wrote in the margin, “a new thought?” Yes, a new thought, because my parallel experience with something analogous to And Church Happened could better be described as,  “And Church Went Wrong,” or “And Church Missed the Mark,” or “And Church Miscarried,” and so on. Though the Geftakys vision for a New Testament gathering and all its Biblical expressions and practices were uncannily similar to the vision the Monday Night Bible Study believers understood, George’s ministry ossified while Monday Night Bible Study assembly seemed more organic. Rather than allow what appeared to be an organic, living thing (an assembly) to be born, develop, grow, age, and die like all organic things, George’s ministry continued well beyond its life expectancy, ultimately becoming a decaying corpse: austere, rule-bound, harsh.

In the margins of the book, I noted the difference between the two “founders” (I realize Walt Hoffman would reject this label, but it’s for lack of a better word that I use it). And I think the key difference has to do with humility. Where Walt seemed to go out of his way to be sure he wasn’t imposing rules, George (and his wife Betty) apparently could not fathom how a ministry could be maintained apart from rules. And where Walt sought advice from people outside the group and encouraged members of the assembly to interact with other ministries, George increasingly built walls and hedges around his church.

Many of us, after awhile, uncomfortable with the restrictions and growing isolation, finally left (my husband and I included), but others stayed until the inevitable implosion and even beyond (there are still a few loyalists). Walt Hoffman’s book closes with an appendix that lists the names and ministries of over 50 “alumni” of Monday Night Bible Study; a book written about the Geftakys ministry would have to include an appendix of countless alumni whose lives, psyches or faith were damaged, some irreparably.

Questions that plague me: If what happened to me that night in Seal Beach was an authentic salvation experience (which I believe it was), why was I not "led" to the healthy church and instead gave my loyalty and allegiance to what would ultimately turn out to be, if not a cult, then quite nearly one? It's all in the past, of course, and the fruit of those years is three beautiful children, a stable marriage, and, yes, an intact faith. But I always wonder why God didn't steer me differently. 

Ah, so there it is.