SECOND MISSIONARY JOURNEY TO DETROIT

Dan Sheridan and I traveled again to the Detroit area two weekends ago to meet with some fellow-believers there and record three-weeks worth of high-quality audio shows on the Divine Secrets.

We had started on the Divine Secrets during our Indianapolis days at WBRI, but were unceremoniously kicked off the air before barely scratching the surface. We tried again a couple years later at a studio in Illinois, but Sheridan lost the files. Is the third time the charm? Yes. 

In a remarkable stretch of teaching, Dan and I recorded 15 shows in a matter of nine hours in a hotel room in Dearborn, Michigan. These shows are presently being broadcast, a day at a time, on this website: www.martinzender.com. 

(Go to “The Martin Zender/Dan Sheridan Show” and begin with Show 48: “God Shares Secrets With His Friends.”)

Thanks again to Harsh Bhavsar, who paid for our room and bought us dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings.

We think these shows turned out very well. We stand by the truth, as heralded. We pray these Scriptural presentations connect you with God's heart and mind. If they do, please let us know.

mzender@martinzender.com

dan@sheridanvoice.com

Thanks.

Room 216, Extended Stay America
(click on photos to enlarge.)

HANNAH'S POEMS

Fourteen year-old Hannah Newman (she may be fifteen by now if she had a birthday since December), of Las Vegas, writes some really good poems sparkling with a depth and maturity beyond her years. Hannah is the one who, after my talk on the creation of the universe in her living room last December, ran to the Internet to find out whether I was correct to say that the Hebrew title “Elohim” was plural. By the time I found her at her computer, she had three sites open.

Hannah, her brother, and her mom and dad, Joe and Melinda, are coming here to Windber the first week of May. In celebration of this visit, I am finally publishing two of the poems Hannah gave me in Las Vegas. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Hannah Newman.

PEOPLE ARE COLD AND MEAN

People are cold and mean,

But God’s love they have not yet seen.

He loves more than anyone can imagine,

He sent his son to die,

To save all,

Each and every one.

He gives grace; have faith,

Because you’re never going to see His face—

But through His people.

In darkness you will do nothing but kill,

Steal and destroy;

You don’t have a choice,

Until you hear God’s voice.

He will call upon you and save you from your fatal life,

Filled with strife.

So in His call, He is giving eternal living.

Praise God; praise His majesty, His sagacity—

His love beyond capacity.

Your fate is to live in a kingdom made of gold;

Your place made out for you cannot, will not

Be sold.

He has your name written—

In bold.

Christ died and rose; the devil will be gone

And out of your nose, as soon as  

The Lord, Christ, descends from

The heavens to the grounds of

The Earth,

The place where Christ has his birth ...

His death ...

And His resurrection.

                        —Hannah Newman

GOD IS MY FATHER

God is my Father.

Christ is my Savior.

The more you hear the truth,

The more you become a craver.

It is boring at first,

Then develops flavor

When you realize you don’t need

To correct your behavior.

At first you go through a path of destruction,

Have an everyday malfunction.

God will renew you

With construction.

This is His plan;

It is hard to understand.

God is molding you to perfection. Look at the crucifixion

Rather than the resurrection.

Look at what Christ did; you will begin to see

His reflection.

Not all will be saved—

Not all at once.

Once you see that God is to glory,

In His watch,

There is no need to worry.

All will be saved after that last age.

Death will be abolished in the final stage.

The devil will be in a rage.

We will realize what God gave us,

And glory in Him.

All creation will be without sin.

                                    —Hannah Newman

MORE VISITORS, AND MY GROCERY STORE

My own grocery story in Hagarstown, MD.
Shot on our way back from the Bluegrass concert.
(Click on photos to enlarge.)

We built it, and are they ever coming.

The day I was dropping off Terry at the Detroit Greyhound station, Clyde was picking up Eric Wahl at the Johnstown Greyhound station. Eric has been here for eight days, and is leaving tomorrow.

I first met Eric at the August, 2010 Sacramento conference. He had taken the bus then from his home in Eugene, Oregon. He took the bus this time as well, though the trip was five days instead of one, and five times the suffering. Eric’s pilgrimage included an 18-hour layover in Denver, complete with a Motel 6 void of hot water. We are taking much better care of him here. Our hot water is just that, and we never fail leaving the light on for Eric, and for everyone.   

This past weekend (which some of you may know as Easter weekend), Dean and Amy Wilkinson drove the ten hours from Evansville, Indiana, to our humble place here in Windber. Dean had struggled most of his life trying to understand God in the context of a Southern Baptist upbringing. When he found Clyde’s material, and mine, his life changed. One of the first things he wanted to do was travel here to Windber and visit us.

Dean and Amy stayed for two days and two nights, and the times of fellowship were numerous and rich. Again, members of the Christ’s body bond instantly. Eric had never met them, they had never met him, and neither Clyde nor I had ever met Dean and Amy, but we all soon became one big happy family.

This is how it happens around here.

An office shot. Young Terrence is sitting where Alicia usually sits,
who we hired to catalog thousands of books so we can sell them on Amazon.

Another office view. (That's Clyde's parents in the portrait, both deceased.)
Nathan is at right, in what we call "The Shipping Department."

Amy and Dean Wilkinson, from Evansville, IN.

Cindy, Amy and Dean, at dinner.

Nathan, Aaron, and a pineapple.

Eric Wahl, of Eugene, OR

Amy and Dean, before leaving on Sunday.
Yes, that's the sun outside the window.

Nathan and Eric

Clyde, Clyde, Janet. That's me in reflection,
taking the photo.

Under the table.

Porcelain and glass.

Pork rinds.

Empty wine glass.

I’m returning to Detroit this weekend to meet up with Dan Sheridan, Harsh Bhavsar, and the gang from Ann Arbor. Dan and I hope to record a couple weeks worth of shows for you—and for us. You know what a good time we have.

It is April Fools Day as I write, and it’s snowing. But above the clouds, the sun is always shining. We are all fools for Christ.

© 2013 by Martin Zender

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