TRIP TO DEARBORN, MICHIGAN, AND POINTS NORTH

Henry Ford; my car is
named after this guy.

If Cleveland is the armpit of the nation, then what is Detroit?

Don’t ask.

But we would not be in Detroit, only passing through it. Our goal, driving West from Pennsylvania, was Dearborn, Michigan, where Henry Ford said you could have a Model T in any color you wanted, as long as it was black.

Terry Clemens was my traveling companion, who I’d lovingly nicknamed "Young Terrence." Our goal for the day was the Adoba Hotel in Dearborn, where our Indian friend Harsh Bhavsar had booked a room for Young Terrence, Dan Sheridan and myself. We were all in Michigan, not only to see Dean Hough—longtime friend and editor of Unsearchable Riches magazine—but also to fellowship with and bring mature Scriptural truth to several of Harsh’s friends he’d met at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

First stop was the home Harsh shares with six or seven other people in Ann Arbor. Harsh had prepared us some delicious Indian food, which we enjoyed with two of his roommates. 

Lunch at Harsh's, Ann Arbor

Then it was back to the Adoba (a fabulous hotel), to meet several young men in one of the well-appointed sitting rooms off the lobby.

We talked truth for four hours. One of Harsh’s friends, Brian, later told us: “I learned more truth in those four hours than I did in my entire time growing up in denominational religion.”  These are the times Dan Sheridan and I live for.

The next day, Brian went with Dan, Harsh, Young Terrence and myself to Almont, Michigan to see Dean Hough. (Almont is about thirty miles north of Detroit, into the “thumb” of the “mitten” of Michigan.) But first, we headed to a meeting at the home of Jerry Upton in a nearby town whose name I'm failing to recall.

Harsh Bhavsar

I told you how influential Dean Hough had been in my early walk, especially between the years 1993 and 2000. I'd heard him speak at over fifty conferences, and it is from him I learned the essentials of Paul’s evangel of grace. Dean Hough is probably the world’s authority on the book of Romans, although he is much too humble to ever entertain such a though. So I got to hear Dean teach again in Jerry’s living room. Hearing Dean teach is a greatly comforting thing.

The Adoba Hotel, Dearborn, MI

Lobby of  the Adoba. Harsh went all-out for us.

Sitting room, the Adoba.

Gang of believers at the Adoba.

At Jerry's house, Dean taught out of Deuteronomy. But guess what? In my lap was the original Concordant Version of the Old Testament, the very manuscript on which was E.H. Clayton and A.E. Knoch’s handwriting, in pencil—Mr. Clayton having written the Hebrew element beneath each typed Hebrew word, and Mr. Knoch having contributed the translation line. This was the very first “Concordant Version” of Deuteronomy and, by the way, the most accurate translation of the book since Moses penned the original. And it was in my lap. While I was listening to Dean Hough teach. While I was sitting next to Dan Sheridan. 

Sometimes the stars just align, folks. It would have been a great time for the snatching away. But alas.

With Dan and Dean.

At Jerry Upton's.

Tony Nungesser, or Abraham Lincoln?
We gave Tony such a hard time over this beard,
he shaved it that afternoon.

Gisela Hough, Harsh, Brian

Original manuscript, Concordant Version of Deuteronomy.
E.H. Clayton inserted the English equivalents (directly
beneath the Hebrew words); the lines beginning "Jehovah," "your God",
"statutes," "within the land," are A.E. Knoch's translation lines.
(Click photo to enlarge.) 

The entire original translation of the Concordant Version of the Old Testament.

That night, after a wonderful steak dinner compliments of Jim and Gary Best, Dean put up Dan and me at the Super 8 in Imlay City, 8 miles north of Almont. This is where we recorded our two shows, after chomping down our leftover rib eye steaks.

Brian and me.

Sheridan and me recording at the Super 8 motel in Imlay City. 6:30 a.m.

On my way to take Young Terrence to the bus station, I stopped at 6800 Hough Road to say a final good-bye to Dean and Tony Nungesser. This is the farmhouse formerly belonging to Dean’s Uncle Howard, where A.E. Knoch once stayed on his way to Germany in the 30’s. (Almont was also home to George Rodgers, who wrote Studies in the Book of Romans.) The house is currently the new home of the Concordant Publishing Concern, as it was moved from southern California last year.

Sad farewell to Terry Clemens.
Greyhound bus station, Detroit.

The last stage of the trip was to drop Young Terrence off at the bus station in downtown Detroit. I am going to miss that guy. We all will; he’d become a part of our family. Young Terrence was heading off to visit his parents in London, Ontario, then would fly back to Banff, Alberta, on Tuesday. Tears filled my eyes as I hugged him good-bye, turned, and walked away. He’d been with us for a month. He promises to come back this summer.

I love traveling for the sake of the truth. Every moment of ever mile and event is meaningful. We shall return to Michigan, to these young men who want to know more about out great God, and about our expectation among the celestials.

You can have any color you want, as long as it’s effervescent grace.

© 2013 by Martin Zender

BLUEGRASS PLAYS THE BLUES; WHO KNEW?

Doyle Lawson at intermission, surrounded by his fans.

Now, I have been called a lot of things, but “Bluegrass fan” is not one of them. Yet when Clyde said back in the middle of February—with a lot of drawl and a bushel basket full of excitement—“I got us tickets to a Bluegrass concert! Wanna go?” I couldn’t help but say, “Yes, in fact, I do.”

So Janet and Clyde and Clyde Lynn and myself drove about three hours into Maryland to see Doyle Lawson and his band, Quicksilver.

“Doyle Lawson!” the three of them said to me at the same time on the way down.

(Click photos to enlarge.)

“O-kaaaaaay.”

“Doyle Lawson is the biggest star in Bluegrass,” they said again, this time with a hint of incredulity. “He’s the man. He mentors all the new bands.”

To prove these wild claims, they produced a CD listing all Doyle’s accomplishments and awards. The back of the CD had a quote from Paul Simon about this guy, for crying out loud, and listed his awards and recent honors at the Grand Ole Opry. Now I was interested.

“You may not like the Gospel stuff,” Clyde said.

“I will not like the Gospel stuff,” I said.

“Oh, give it a try.”

I did. And by golly, I liked it. Well, no. Not the Gospel stuff, particularly. And I never knew Bluegrass bands played such downright, hard-knock-cry-yourself-to-sleep blues; no one had ever told me. Some of these songs—wailing over lost loves—were so goddamn blue I thought the band should have supplied ropes so audience members could throw them over the rafters and hang themselves. That’s what I wanted to do after one particularly life-sucking number. But when Doyle and the gang put the pedal to the metal and “rocked” the house, I sat mesmerized at the speed and skill of these musicians.

               “You’re going to be tapping your fingers to Bluegrass for a week,” Janet said. Well, it was only five days for me—but still. Okay. You made your point. I love this guy, love his talent, love his band, love most of the music, but especially the passion behind the music. Passion in any field of endeavor never fails to move me.

I may even go back next year. But when the Blues start, I’ll dial up Led Zeppelin onto my i-Pod and listen to Whole Lotta Love. Keep the weeping and gnashing of teeth inside your fiddles, gentlemen. I’ve got enough of that on my own.

© 2013 by Martin Zender  

POST FLORIDA-CONFERENCE ADVENTURE #3

Paul at Bob Evans restaurant, Port Charlotte.

When I heard that Paul would be coming down here to play a week of baseball, I just knew I had to stick around and wait for him. (It was pretty good timing, I would say.) The conference finished on Sunday, but Paul would not be arriving until the following Sunday. Could I manage to occupy my time in the great state of Florida for seven whole days? Yes—and in the meantime find great fellowship with some really fine people. 

It was just so cool to meet my son down here in Florida; what a rendezvous. The last time we were in Florida together was 1997, when Paul was only 5 years-old. 1997 was the third year of a three-year stint teaching at a Concordant conference in Melbourne on the east coast, down the beach from Cape Canaveral. This time, Paul would be doing all the work and I would be watching.

In his sophomore year, my son is a starting pitcher for the Ohio Wesleyan Battling Bishops. Here we are outside his hotel in Port Charlotte on Monday night:

(Click on photos to enlarge.)

We won the first game on Monday, with Paul pitching three innings. He started the game on Thursday, a game we unfortunately lost. We also managed to lose on Tuesday and Thursday, but won Friday. Today we took both games of a double-header, leaving us with a 4-3 record for Florida, which is a winning record in anyone’s book.

Here are some of the good times with Paul:

Paul warming up with his pitching coach.

Nice wind-up, kid.

Buff dude at the beach.

The wind-blown look.

Father and son.

Two pelicans on the prowl.

Gulf of Mexico at Blind Pass Beach, Englewood.

She sells these at the seashore.

At the Mango Bistro, Englewood, FL.

After Paul's last game earlier this afternoon.

Under the tent.

This bald eagle sat atop the center-field light pole most of the second game.

The Battling Bishops pack up for a long ride back to Ohio.

Paul is such a happy kid. I love him like crazy.

I feel like a resident of Florida now, as I have been here for over two weeks. I really like this state, and hope to end up here someday. In the meantime, God has a lot of work for me to do in Pennsylvania with my one-of-a-kind family there.

I am heading home early tomorrow morning, will spend a night on the road, and arrive home Monday evening. I will resume my audio show on 2 Timothy on Wednesday. Thank you so much for your patience! I needed this mental unwind very badly.

See you back in Pennsylvania! Many adventures ahead; stay tuned.

© 2013 by Martin Zender

POST FLORIDA-CONFERENCE ADVENTURE #2

Atlas Agena D launching Lunar
Orbiter 4 on May 4, 1967.

Maury Wilson and his wife Ruth are long-time truth-believers—solid as rocks. They live in Englewood, Florida, in the environs of Port Charlotte, with their daughter Maura and her husband Richard.

Maury worked in aviation most his life. For 23 years this meant clocking in at Cape Canaveral during its formative years and contributing to the Navaho and Atlas Agena rocket projects. He was a launch technician and guidance expert. These rockets—and the guidance technology utilized by them—were forerunners of the Apollo rockets that eventually took us to the moon.

Maury is one smart dude.

I have spent mornings here, before dawn, with Maury, in front of his computer. Maury is not only interested in aviation and aerospace, but in end-time theology. God has given him much insight into the workings of the bestial world system and its operation in accord with the prince of the power of the air, namely, Satan. This is one reason God has brought me here, to glean from Maury some important considerations that will inform my upcoming Revelation series and related book. I thank God for sending me here.

Additionally, I’ve had wonderful times of fellowship around the breakfast and dinner table; Ruth and Maura are great cooks. have been made to feel a part of this family, and will surely miss them when I leave here early tomorrow morning.

Maury Wilson in his favorite chair, in front of his computer.
(Click photos to enlarge.)

Maury, Maura and Ruth around the dinner table.

Thursday evening, I was invited to the home of Brian Curtis and his wife Colette for good old barbeque ribs, Brian Curtis style. You will remember that this couple, along with a young man named Ryan, drove across the state to visit me at Waylan Dabbs' house in Coral Springs in January. Brian also wanted me to meet his pastor Tony and his wife: what a nice couple. Also at the dinner was a woman named Chris and her son and daughter. We all had good fellowship.

Tony and his wife, and Brian (in yellow shirt.)

Chris and her daughter; Collette in the background.

Chris's daughter draws a portrait of The World's Most Outspoken Bible Scholar.

When I haven been with Maury in front of the computer, or with the family at the dining room table, I have been shuttling between here and Port Charlotte to watch my son Paul play baseball. (He has played a game every day, Monday-Friday, and two games today—Saturday.) The field, it turns out, is only a 15-minute drive from this house.

How is that for divine planning?

POST FLORIDA-CONFERENCE, ADVENTURE #1

Alligator Alley.
(Click to enlarge photos.)

My youngest son Paul would be coming to Florida on March 10 to play a week of baseball with his team from Ohio Weslyan University in Delaware, OH, so I had to find something to do in the meantime. As I already told you, my mind was strained from constantly thinking about the evangel and related topics, so I decided I would visit some saints and shut the brain down as much as I possibly could. (Easier said than done.)

A man I’d never met, Bob Wigden, sat a row in front of me at the Dania Beach conference, and he turned around on Saturday afternoon, handed me a business card and said, “If you need a place to stay over on the west coast (The Florida gulf coast), consider looking me up."

Be careful when you say this to me, folks, because I just might take you up on it. Sure enough, I drove across the state on Alligator Alley (Interstate 75), then drove up the coast a ways to Sarasota to see Bob.

I spent three nights with him, and had a great time (yet another lazy phrase—“had a great time”—I’m sorry.) Bob showed me the town, took me to dinner and breakfast, and cooked two really fine dinners at home. In addition, we toured the circus museum (I highly recommend it), and the John Ringling mansion.

Sarasota was the winter home for the Ringling Brothers/Barnum & Bailey Circus for years. As you can probably already guess, I really relate to the circus. In fact, one of my uncles (I never met him; he died before I was born; it was my dad’s oldest brother) ran away with the circus continually at a young age, and had to be captured, continually, by his father and returned home. This uncle (his name was Lloyd), eventually married the “Sheep-Haired Woman” from the sideshow, and had a daughter with her, whom my sister still stays in contact with. (I have no idea what her hair looks like, sorry. I imagine it is quite woolly.)

Bob at Bob's house, Sarasota, FL.
That's the Zendermobile, a 1999 Ford Contour.

Front of Bob's House.

Bob took me to lunch at the Hob Nob, a noted outdoor Sarasota eatery.
(You can have anything you want, as long as it's hamburgers and french fries.)

Sign at the Circus Museum. Bob thought the wording fit my ministry
to a "T," and insisted I take a photo of it. (Can't argue with him.)

The John Ringling mansion.

Besides all the fun touring we did, Bob and I enjoyed great times of fellowship. It turns out I can never shut my mind off completely, not that I would ever want to. 

After visiting with Bob, it was off to the home of Maury and Ruth Wilson. Thanks for coming along with me!

© 2013 by Martin Zender