DEMONSTRATING THE MEANING OF GRACE.

What does grace mean? It's unmerited favour. On New Year's Eve, 1977, this concept was aptly demonstrated for me by a janitor in the mens' room of a bus depot.

From my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, here's how God used a stranger to help me when I needed it desperately.

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Throughout my stay in Mexico and the journey home, I suffered from constipation. Some of the Bible school passengers periodically admonished me that I should be bubbling over with joy as a "good Christian" ought to. Hoping to cheer me up, they sang several rousing choruses of Count Your Blessings" while the driver negotiated the streets of downtown Calgary.

As soon as they let me off at the Greyhound bus depot, I strode into the mens room to deal with what really made me feel miserable. As with well-intentioned fools, I despised pay toilets. These required a dime for admission and I, not wanting to soil my clothes by climbing under the stall door, hesitated as I held a quarter in my hand. The bathroom door opened and the janitor bustled in.

"Do you have change for a quarter?" I said quickly. "I've just come from Mexico and I need to go real bad."

"That's all right," he said as he took a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

"Thanks," I gasped as I held out the coin.

"No, you can keep that," he said as he turned and began scrubbing the sinks.

I thanked him again and gratefully used the toilet. He was gone by the time I finished. "Thankyou Lord for helping me so quickly," I prayed as I washed my hands. As life's situations rarely worked out so neatly for me, I knew God must have orchestrated the janitor's timely entrance.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), are now available online by clicking here or by clicking here to e-mail me directly.

A SUPERSTITIOUS FAITH.

The word 'superstition' conjures up images of primitive religions and irrational practices. Even in our modern culture, people carry rabbit's feet, pick four-leaf clovers, throw coins in wishing wells, and snap wish bones in order to hopefully obtain what they desire.

Charismatic Christian sects have their own form of superstitions. One of these is the expelling of demons attached to possessions. During the seventies and eighties, I attended a cultic church that was an offshoot of Pentecostalism. When one of the members and I went on a short term missions trip to Saltillo, Mexico in 1977, he rebuked me for buying an object that depicted pagan sacrifice. From my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, here is one example of Thee Church's illogical and unscriptural doctrines.

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One of the shops we visited sold china and leather goods. While walking the isles, I noticed a small loaf-sized chocolate-coloured case with a handle at one end. I picked it up and examined it. Inside, it had a small rectangular mirror sewn into the lid with a leather strap next to it. I assumed the latter was for holding tooth brushes or combs. The case also had a grey plastic pocket attached inside it and a brown zipper ran around three sides of the lid. It seemed like the perfect container for my toiletries so I bought it. At the counter, I noticed a rack of post cards. I chose about a half dozen and paid for them as well as the case.

Jay confronted me when we stepped outside the shop. "Do you realize what that case of yours has on it?" When I looked blank, he continued. "That's a Mayan priest offering corn to the sun god."

"I didn't notice that. Do I have to throw this away? I need it for my tooth brush and other things."

"I suppose if you prayed for God to take away any demonic influences from it, that would be all right. Just don't show it to any of the other Christians. They might misunderstand." Having been misjudged too many times in my life, I kept it in my trunk. Before I put the case away, I rebuked any demons which may have attached themselves to it and banished them to the abyss.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), are now available online by clicking here or by clicking here to e-mail me directly.

A NON-LINGUAL COMEDY OF ERRORS.

The following vignette sounds like a sitcom or scene from a movie. Four "gringos" on the way to a short-term missions assignment in Mexico try to order a meal at a restaurant without knowing either the language or the cuisine. In my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, I recount this humorous scenario and its outcome.

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Our unfamiliarity with the language caused some humorously awkward moments when we stopped at a modern-looking local restaurant for supper. None of us knew Spanish and we struggled to make sense of the menus. After much pointing and smiling from each of us, the waiter took our orders and retreated hastily to the kitchen. As we waited for our food, we overheard the waiter and cook agitatedly whispering.

"I wonder what they're saying, one of the Bible study friends said.

"I hope they aren't thinking we're gangsters with that big car outside," Jay said. Then he added, "I parked it in clear view of the window. Make sure you keep watching it, Bruce, in case somebody tries to steal it."

I tried my best to keep an eye on it as we waited, the food arrived, and while we ate. Timidly tasting my food, I discovered it contained none of those super hot peppers of which people had warned me. "That was better than I thought," I remarked to Jay as we stood up and walked to the cashier's counter.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), are now available online by clicking here or by clicking here to e-mail me directly.

AN UNFORGETTABLE SUPPER IN LAREDO.

In many ways, America is a remarkable nation. The chief reason being that its constitution limits government's powers while respecting the individual. Because of this, it has been called the land of opportunity by many people. Its history abounds with stories of immigrants making their fortunes after arriving with next to nothing.

This greatness, which has allowed the nation to become the world's major super power, has also created an ingrained attitude of national haughtiness in its citizens. As a result, Americans are generally ignorant of their next door neighbour and best trading partner: Canada.

While on the way to a short term missions assignment to the Mexican city of Saltillo in December of 1977, my three friends and I had a disturbing encounter with a certain restaurant manager. From my upcoming How I Was Razed memoir, here is what happened.

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After forty-eight hours on the road, we checked into a motel in Laredo and then ate a late supper at an upscale hotel's restaurant. As we finished our meal, Jay said, "I'll pay for this. It's my treat." As we stood waiting by the till, he pulled a Canadian twenty from his wallet and handed it to the cashier.

She gawked at the bill and asked, "What sort of money is this? I'm not sure we can take foreign currency." While Jay explained that it was legal Canadian tender, a heavy-set middle-aged man, wearing a white dress shirt and black pants,brushed past and almost bowled me over.

"What's going on here?" he glared at Jay. "What's this thing supposed to be, a traveller's cheque? What are you trying to pull anyway?"

"This is a Canadian twenty dollar bill. It's legal tender," he said in a calm voice.

"I don't believe you. Don't you have some real money or traveller's cheques?"

"I was hoping to pay for my friends' dinners with this Canadian twenty."

"Oh yeah? You either pay with American money or traveller's cheques. Otherwise, I'll call the cops."

Jay turned to us and said, "I guess you'll have to pay your own bills. I'm really sorry about this." Reluctantly, we produced our cheques and signed them.

Once we stepped outside, Jay confided, "I was tempted to sign the bill and walk out." We burst out laughing at the mental picture of this naive American restaurant manager at a bank, trying to cash in what he assumed was a traveller's cheque.
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How I Was Razed is the testimony of the way I was mislead by a cult church, how I turned my back on God after I felt he perennially failed to heal my eyes, and how he graciously brought me to my senses.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), are now available online by clicking here or by clicking here to e-mail me directly.