Missions Textbook6
Plant an Austrian Church

We Never Saw It Coming: An Introduction to Christian Missions (textbook)

September 18, 1983 – Rejoice!

We held our first worship service in our apartment – yes, in our apartment! – at 4 pm in the afternoon. Floyd preached the first sermon from Ephesians 1:1-3, with the plan to preach all the way through the book to give the believers a good foundation of what a New Testament church should be like. I taught Sunday School in the boys’ bedroom, which was once more the large one. Twenty people came, including us and the seven team members. The following week, the service was moved to Sunday morning, and Reinhard was the teacher. Needless to say, it was exciting to have already an Austrian believer who was willing and able to teach the Word in such a young church.

Erich was inviting his friends at school to come to the Sunday school, and eventually quite a few in our building came so their parents could sleep in on Sunday morning.

I had an interesting chat with the neighbor yesterday. She had heard the singing coming from our apartment on two consecutive Sunday mornings and asked if we had a “church-like thing” going on. I said yes and that I also lead a little Sunday School. She tried to act disinterested but asked, “When do you start?”

“Ten.”

“Well . . .. I suppose I could have my girls up and dressed and across the hall by ten.”

“Sunday School is at eleven,” I said.

“That’s even better. I just don’t want the girls to feel under any pressure on Sundays.”

Well, I feel the same way. When kids have to go to school six days a week, it seems a crime to pry them out of bed on Sunday for something else. I assured her that a school atmosphere did not prevail. We colored and planted seeds, and last week, made little clay Adams, into which, of course, we couldn’t blow the breath of life. So please pray, Sue, that the weather on Sundays is not good enough for an outing – at least sometimes – so her daughters can come.

We ended up meeting in our apartment for fourteen months!

Meet the Flocks

About two years before the church started, just after we had taken our first trip to Greece, we had received a letter from a young couple in Canada, saying that they were planning on coming to Austria as missionaries. Was there a place for them in Graz? They had already worked in a smaller town in Austria for two years and then returned to Canada. We assumed – hoped – they knew German, but we had only been in Austria for six months at that time. Who were we to make this kind of decision?

They also wrote to the believers in the village in which they had already worked, and they wrote to the American couple we had met in Prien am Chiemsee to ask them the same question. We corresponded a few times with them, and then they decided on a year of training at a school that gave us doubts that we would like being with them. “Nuff said.”

After the team of young people arrived in May of 1983, Floyd wrote to them and said that we needed “learners and servants”, and we didn’t need loud-mouthed know-it-alls. He was pretty blunt. Then the believers in the village said they didn’t want them because of a Swiss missionary there. The other missionary couple said they couldn’t use them.

Now, two weeks after we launched the church, they wrote to say that they would be arriving the end of October! Well, as much as we had longed for like-minded co-workers, Floyd and I put very few eggs into that basket for fear of being let down once more.

Bernd and Karin Flock, and their daughters Heidi and Käti, arrived and moved into our apartment – I really don’t remember where they slept. They both spoke decent German and immediately set out to find an apartment, which took five weeks. Initially, we suggested north Graz – probably in an unconscious effort to insulate ourselves in case of clashes. But as we got to know them, we realized that these were the co-workers we had prayed for.

The weeks they lived with us were busy and fun. Floyd was in the middle of deciding which classes to take at the university, so he was rarely home. The children played and argued, and we got to know one another with a growing respect and thankfulness to God. They had to earn their own respect in the new little church with the new believers, but they did that well, and Floyd was able to include Bernd in more and more of his own activities and turn some administrative duties over to him.

I wrote to a friend: The Lord has given us co-workers! Bernd and Karin Flock are from Canadian churches, and we love them more every day. Bernd fills a real gap in Floyd’s ministry and Karin longs to do a lot of things that I don’t want to do and always felt guilty not doing. Like leading women’s Bible studies and retreats and such like.

I’m afraid I don’t fit the stereotype of the missionary wife. (Does that shock you?) But then both Floyd and I believe that I am the missionary’s wife, not a missionary-wife.  Anyway, we are so thankful for Bernd and Karin. We get along so well and our backgrounds and goals are similar. They found an apartment not too far away and Heidi is already in kindergarten.

I wrote to Sue: Karin seems to be the perfect complement to myself. I think she is sometimes surprised at how few of Floyd’s contacts I know, but I can live with that. I think she will do a lot of things that I’ve always felt “real missionaries” should do and I have felt guilty for not doing.

Karin was actually smarter than that. She gave me courage and guided me to begin a Bible study to disciple the women in the church.

Sue, I remember how you once wrote that you were praying that God would give us someone to laugh with, cry with, pray with, be serious or silly with. I hesitate to speak too soon, but I believe that prayer is now being answered in the Flocks.

It was.

More Visitors

An elderly retired couple came from a church in Seattle and spent one night with us. Every year, they spent their vacation money visiting and serving missionaries. I remember that he asked to see the apartment and then repaired several things that needed attention.

“Uncle Dick” and his wife came for a short visit in January. He and his wife had already visited missionaries in central Africa, and were also going to visit the Bible-smuggling team in Vienna. He was the fourth elder to visit us, and he got to see the church thriving and Austria at its wintry dreariest. We were able also to speak with him very frankly about the positives and negatives of the team, with hopes that the next one would better understand how to “help” us. We had received a brochure from their organization, in which it was stated that the team had started the church. We wanted that sort of thing to stop, not because we wanted credit for anything, but because it just was not true. They didn’t even know German yet!

A former missionary to Germany came to visit for a weekend. We were still very happy – proud – of the new little church and Floyd asked him if he would like to give the communion devotional. Apparently, he looked around, saw there was something our church was not doing that he thought we should be doing, and he decided to preach on that. It had nothing to do with communion, and it caused trouble between us and the team for months after.

When Floyd took him to the airport, he told the man he had not appreciated the trouble he caused.

“Well, I paid for my plane ticket!” he protested.

Floyd answered, “I didn’t ask you to come.”

It took a few years to iron out all of that. Floyd learned that when you are asked to speak in another church, you stick to the Bible and leave church methods to the local church.

On the brighter side, Dr. John Lennox visited Graz, and he spoke at a mini-conference in the Gospel of John, chapters 13-17. We invited everyone we knew because we knew it would be a fantastic time of Bible teaching. Those who had never heard him were stunned and challenged to study the Word more closely.

John asked Floyd to come with him to Poland for a teaching conference. Floyd really wanted to, but felt that the timing was not good. He did accept an invitation to attend a conference in Belgium in April because he could bring Reinhard with him. That teaching would be so good for an up-coming leader of a new church.

Floyd’s final paragraph, after he had described all the above-mentioned items: Well, I should close. Today was a light day because a couple people couldn’t make it, so I wrote letters all day. Tomorrow, Wednesday, starts with the 7am Romans Bible study; 9:30 Gospel of John Bible study; lunch with Reinhard in discipleship; chase an unsaved Austrian down and beat him over the head with my German Bible; and then the 7:30pm Romans Bible study at Harry’s. I do manage to eat with the family at noon (sometimes) and at 6pm. Sounds like a full schedule? I love it!

The Trouble with Working with Students . . .

. . . is that they move away. Floyd wrote in October: I went to Vienna with Pepe and Gertrud to spend a last day with them for some time. (They were finally married in August.) They moved there so Pepe could continue his studies for foreign service, like an ambassador. On the way, I asked them if they had thought anymore about giving their lives to the Lord. And Pepe said he had done so last week! Gertrud said she was close to doing so, but wanted to read the Word some more first. She said Pepe had the advantage: he had started reading the Bible with me six months before she joined us. We are sad that they moved to Vienna, but we put them in contact with some good friends who will take them farther in their faith. Keep praying for them. They are very close to our hearts.

In February, they wrote to tell us they were getting baptized and wanted Floyd to come to Vienna to speak at the baptism. He was glad to do so.

Pepe and Gertrud and Ingeborg had been talking for some time to friends of theirs, Karl and Lisi (a pair living together in Graz, but fairly committed to one another, like Pepe and Gertrud were when we first met them). The three of them brought Karl and Lisi to meet us, and we spent most of the afternoon talking about our kids and Vienna and computers until Karl suddenly said, “Actually, the reason we wanted to meet you was to ask you if you’ll read the Bible with us. We want to learn all about it, and Pepe and Gertrude encouraged us to get together with you.” Floyd immediately set up Friday mornings to meet with them.

Sometimes, things were really easy!

The Dog Bite That Started a Bible Study

Austria has many national and church holidays, especially in May. One of the biggest ones, Pentecost, creates a three-day weekend, and all the Austrians drive to the (then) Yugoslavian coast for the first sunshine of the year. Or you stayed home and had a picnic.

Reinhard and his wife Barbara had been leading a monthly Bible study with a few people in a small village, Mureck, about an hour south of Graz, right on the Mur River that formed the border with Yugoslavia. He invited Floyd to come for an all-day picnic and teaching time, and he wanted Floyd to teach about the biblical meaning of Pentecost. The hosts were Gerhard and Hendrike, and they invited 25 people to their home for the day. Gerhard, quiet and friendly, was the area veterinarian. Hendrike was a Romanian, who had been raised in Germany. She was larger-than-life with a great love for people and an idea of how to help everyone – and by golly, she would make sure you got helped!

The day was glorious, their home spacious and cool. Our children were joined by others; I think there was a swimming pool, and Gerhard and Hendrike’s teenaged sons watched the kids. Michael, who loved dogs, was drawn to their massive Great Dane, Bonni, who was sleeping under the dining room table.

“May I pet her?”

“Not while she is under the table.”

He obeyed and went outside to play.

The teaching meeting was pretty straight-forward. Floyd used his standard method of dealing with Scripture by making sure people had or shared a Bible. Then he began at the beginning of the book of Acts, and asked lots of questions to lead them verse-by-verse through the relevant verses about Pentecost. The audience consisted of an electrician, a government employee, a postman, the mayor, several teachers, and the wives of all of the above. One of the more learned of the group was not happy that Floyd didn’t include anything about the Holy Virgin Mary, but Floyd was able to point out that she was not mentioned. If the man could find her in the story, he would be glad to add her.

Then it was time to eat. I don’t remember what we ate, but knowing Hendrike, it was delicious and plentiful, and most of the ladies had brought something. She was generous with wine, as well, which I was learning I really didn’t care for that much. But there were also sodas and sparkling water.

The children ran and played in the tiny yard – which looked like an Italian garden – and the adults mingled and talked and some left early for other picnics with family in other places. We probably went for a walk as a group and then had coffee and desserts.

Later in the afternoon, Michael was wandering through the yard and noticed that the dog was now sleeping on the grass. Glad that she was no longer under the table, he approached her and pet her head. Startled awake, the dog snapped at Michael, drawing blood on his cheek.

Hendrike had seen it all, and she swooped Michael up in her arms and rushed him into the veterinarian’s office attached to the house. She washed his cheek, which was bleeding profusely, and put ointment and a butterfly bandage on it to seal it and stop the bleeding. She assured us that he would be fine. She explained – too late – that the dog did that when someone woke her.

We were tired after the long day of only German and meeting so many people, so we decided that it was time to go home. We thanked everyone, shook hands with everyone, and drove back to Graz.

The following morning, Michael’s cheek was swollen, red and painful. He looked as if he had a golf ball in his cheek. We decided we should have a doctor look at it, so we took him to our doctor, who immediately said we needed to go to the children’s hospital. Well, there are two children’s hospitals – one for accidents and one for illness – and of course we chose the wrong one first. When we finally got to the right place, they immediately admitted him and took him into surgery to clean out the very deep wound and put a drain in.

Meanwhile, Floyd was filling out papers and answering questions – with lots of vocabulary that had nothing to do with the Bible, driver’s licenses, translation, or food. They especially were interested in “papers”, having to do with “Tollwut” and “Impfung.”

After much frustration, Floyd asked if they would let him call Gerhard. (Remember there were no cell phones back then). Gerhard sounded nervous and said that his lawyer would be happy to speak with ours if we were planning to sue him. That was a shock.

“No,” Floyd assured him, “Of course we aren’t going to sue. We just need papers for ‘Tollwut.’”

Relief flooded Gerhard’s voice. “Ohhh! Tollwut is rabies. Yes, we will send the immunization papers by courier today.” It turned out that the doctors wanted to know that Bonni was immunized against rabies so they would not have to treat Michael for that.

Gerhard sent the papers and a huge box full of presents for Michael. Erich wished he had been bitten.

Michael spent three carefree days in the hospital, playing with other children and entertained by the “Golden Ladies” who came every morning to play games with the children.

Looking back, I’m sure that Gerhard and Hendrike were frightened of losing their practice. For a veterinarian’s dog to bite someone could be a legal disaster! They could have been forced to euthanize her.

A Bible study, however, started from this inauspicious introduction. We drove to Mureck every other Sunday late afternoon, regardless of the weather – rain, snow, unbelievably dense fog, sunshine, and traffic jams. I led a tiny Sunday School for the kids, and then we had a magnificent cold supper.

After the first Bible study, as Floyd was saying goodbye, Henkrike reached out to give him the equivalent of a $100 bill. Floyd snatched his hand away.

“But you have to take it!” she insisted. (Remember, she always knew what was best for you.)

“If you make me take it, I will never come back again.”

She recoiled and thought a minute. “But we just want to pay for your gas. We always pay the priest for his gas and time.”

“Listen, Hendrike: in America, all the cult leaders want money. The Gospel is free, and we want to make sure you know it’s free.”

She put the money in her pocket. “If you are really sure? We really want you to come back.”

“Oh, we’ll be back,” he assured her, “We love doing this.”

Later, I wrote to Sue:

Our Bible study in Mureck is going fantastic. Three couples come to every study. Gerhard and Hendrike sponsor the studies and insist that we be paid for the 50-minute drive (one way). Since we won’t take money, they always send us home with cheeses, homemade juice, fruit, honey from their own bees, sausages, eggs – whatever they have, each couple gives us something. Herbert (the electrician) and Irmi are quieter, but very open. They asked us to find them a good children’s Bible to read to their two younger children. Their two teenagers think their parents are in a cult! Karl (the postman) and Pepl are more reserved. He, particularly, is stuck on good works. “There are so many good people in the world,” he told me over supper, “I find it so hard to accept that their good works are good for absolutely nothing.” I agreed with him: “I know that it’s a brand-new thought. Good works make our life here on earth pleasanter, but the question is: Can we really do enough good works to earn our way into heaven?”

Persecution (But Not Against Us)

Jesus makes a curious statement to Peter and the disciples after Peter reminds Jesus, “. . . We have left everything and followed You.” Jesus encourages them: “Truly I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or farms, for My sake and for the gospel’s sake, but that he will receive a hundred times as much now in the present age, houses and brothers, and sisters and mothers and children and farms, along with persecutions; and in the age to come, eternal life.” Then He tells them that when they all go to Jerusalem Jesus will ultimately be killed (Mark 10:28-34). I have underlined “along with persecutions” because it seems odd, sandwiched between Peter’s declaration and Jesus’ promise that their faithfulness will be rewarded in kind. But along with Jesus’ earlier statement that His true mother and brothers are those who do the will of God (Mark 3:34-35), Jesus is introducing the idea that blood is not thicker than water, when it comes to our spiritual well-being. Those who would follow Jesus might lose their earthly family, who would reject them. But they would gain a spiritual family and riches that unbelievers can never understand. In the midst of that glorious promise, however, Jesus lets them know that persecution will come.

In North America, and particularly in the United States, it is relatively easy to be a “born-again Christian.” There are small persecutions, such as people mocking us, and perhaps even cursing us. But it is illegal to kill a Christian. It is even illegal to ostracize and abuse people on the basis of their faith, although it does happen occasionally.

When we began to work in Austria, we were unaware of how the social, religious and economic systems were so tightly connected. This was not quite so prominent in the city of Graz, because not everyone knew everyone. In Mureck, however, we learned quite quickly the price the believers would have to pay – would be willing to pay – to have a true relationship with Jesus Christ. Hendrike and her husband, Gerhard, were probably believers before we met them. They were very generous people, who loved people passionately. Mureck was a town of 2000, and everyone knew everyone.

When Hendrike invited Herbert to the Bible study, he was willing to come because Hendrike had cared for his family while he was in a clinic to overcome alcoholism. Herbert and Irmi gave their lives to the Lord fairly early in the Bible study. They had two young children, who came to Sunday School, and two teenagers who thought their parents were in a cult. “You spent fifteen years teaching us to follow the Catholic Church, and now you’re telling us that was wrong? We want nothing to do with your new cult!” Heartbreaking! When word got around that Herbert was attending a Bible study that was not approved by the Catholic Church, the customers to his appliance and electrical maintenance shop began to drive an hour to Graz, just to shun him. Unfazed, he became one of the Bible teachers when we left Austria. He eventually built an “Upper Room” above his shop for the little church to meet. His wife was a simple believer, who often didn’t understand many of the intellectual discussions about apologetics and hermeneutics and doctrinal issues. “But I love Jesus; that’s enough for me.”

Hendrike invited the priest to the Bible study, and he came one time. Although he was polite, what horrified him was that everyone in the group had a Bible in their lap, and they obviously were learning how to read and understand it. They were very able to articulate their new-found faith with humility and gratitude. When asked what he thought of the study, he had no choice but to acknowledge that there was probably nothing wrong with what the believers were doing. Then he went home and wrote up a flyer to mail out to everyone in his jurisdiction, condemning the Bible study and some even accused the believers of meeting to have group sex.

Karl and Pepl also had teens and younger children, most of whom were involved in the Bible study and Sunday School. Karl was the postman, who delivered mail to the entire area. When the local priest put out the flyer, denouncing the Bible study as an American, cult-driven heresy, Karl, as the postman, had to deliver that flyer to every household. Floyd helped him to see irony and humor in that, and that no one can hold back the Holy Spirit.

Breakfast with the Flocks

We were so thankful for the Flocks. They were English-speakers who loved the Austrians, and who encouraged our love of the Austrians. They had insights we sometimes didn’t have, even though we had been in Graz longer. One of their ideas was to have breakfast together every week to talk about the ministry and to pray together.

I don’t remember specific stories, but I do remember delicious breakfasts of fresh rolls, jam and cheese and plenty of Karin’s delicious Russian tea. I think I learned to make a pot of really good tea from her. We laughed a lot, cried together, and spent much of the time praying for the Austrians. We prayed for the church, newer converts, and for those we were still inviting to read the Bible. In our discussions, we learned from each other a lot about how to persuade people to consider the viability of the Word of God.

Although the teams from America were still here, we only met with them occasionally because they had their own meeting. After the teams left, when others began to join us – Jim, from California, Jeff, from Colorado, and Rona, who eventually stayed on from the first team – we invited them to join us.

In fact, Rona was living with us in our apartment after her team had returned to the States, and I remember inviting her to the breakfast with the Flocks. We were ready to leave and she was still in her bathrobe.

“Mmmm, I think I’d rather not,” she said, “Team meetings are really not something I enjoy.”

Floyd asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, you don’t have to come.”

We opened the door to leave and handed her the key to lock up.

She looked at the key and asked, “So I don’t have to come?”

“Of course not.”

She thought a couple seconds and then said, “Okay. Let me get dressed. I think I’ll come.”

I think this was a principle of so many things that we did. When given their freedom to choose, people often make the better choice. Not that coming to our breakfast was necessary or the better choice, but we gained from her presence, and I hope she gained from ours. As usual, we had a lovely breakfast, told stories, laughed a lot, prayed a lot, and she became a regular.

As long as we lived in Graz, we met every week with the Flocks, and I’m so glad we did.

Summer 1984 – The Accident

It was Sunday afternoon, and Bernd and Karin wanted us to all go swimming at a pool they had heard about. I remember a reluctance on the part of the boys, but we decided to go anyway. The Flocks still didn’t have a car; they were borrowing a moped that Floyd had bought and then rarely used. If they wanted to go swimming, they needed our car.

We drove to their apartment on a very steep hill, and crammed Heidi and Käti into the back seat of our tiny Fiat. Bernd and Karin took the moped, and we all drove to the new swimming venue.

Everyone had a good time, and eventually it was time to go home. Karin was cold, and she didn’t want to ride home on the moped, so we jammed her into the back seat with the four kids.

Mopeds are slower, so we arrived back at their apartment, dropped off Karin and the girls and aimed the Fiat back down the hill. There was a tight curve at the bottom of the hill, and huge branches covered the uphill side of the one-lane road. Floyd was driving quite slowly because of the branches. Bernd, on the moped, however, was driving as fast as the moped would go, trying to get up the steep hill. His head was down to avoid the branches, but as he came around the corner, our car was right in front of him. He swerved to the right, and Floyd also swerved to miss him, but he still hit the outside mirror of our car and smashed off the mirror of the moped. The moped slowed to a stop, and then like a cartoon figure, Bernd tipped onto the road.

So many things happened so quickly. Floyd remembers me crying out, “O dear God!” Michael, who normally sat forward, looking out Floyd’s window in front of him, had been bent to the floor, picking up rocks that Heidi had spilled from his bucket. At the sound of the crash, he popped his head up and said, “What was that?”, scattering all the glass from the mirrors from his back. That glass might have gone into his face, if not for the rocks.

Karin and the girls had not even had time to unlock the door of the apartment house before they heard the crash. We heard her call, “Bernd!” and then I got out of the car and ran up the hill to her. Floyd was already out of the car to see how Bernd was. I stopped Karin from running down the hill on the gravely street, so she wouldn’t fall.

A neighbor leaned out of an upstairs window and asked if we needed an ambulance. By that time, Bernd was on his feet, assuring Karin that he was not dead. His legs hurt, and his wrist was in a lot of pain. His watch was broken, and Erich retrieved it from the street.

Floyd and Karin made the decision to take Bernd to the hospital, and I would stay at the Flocks’ apartment with all four kids. Karin gave me a key. “Be sure you lock the door. The neighbor sometimes comes home drunk and tries to get into our apartment by mistake.”

They put Bernd into the back seat, and drove to the nearest hospital, which was, of course, the wrong hospital – no x-ray machines! They were directed to the right one, full of accident victims.

We are certain that the adrenalin made everyone punchy because by the time they got to the waiting room, they were giggling and making jokes. Floyd was fully clothed, but Bernd and Karin were still in their swimsuits.  All the questions seemed to have funny answers, as they tried to tell the story to the medical personnel. They probably thought everyone had had too much bubbly, but the fact was, that the Flocks and Schneiders just liked each other a lot.

They admitted Bernd, insisting that he must have internal injuries because all moped accidents end that way. He also had broken his left wrist on the Fiat mirror. The skirt of the moped had protected his left leg from worse than bruises and abrasions. He was there for three days before they realized he really didn’t have internal injuries. Almost everyone in that hospital was there from moped accidents. Floyd decided it was time to sell it, and the Flocks needed a car.

Meanwhile, I had taken the kids up to the apartment and carefully locked the door, pulling the key partway out so Karin could unlock from outside.

Heidi, eyes narrowed, said darkly, “Who was that bad man who hit my daddy?”

I sighed. “Well, Honey, it was actually Uncle Floyd, and they sort of crashed together.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and we had water and a snack and I read them stories until Karin came home.

I could hear Floyd and her coming up the stairs, laughing and talking. I jumped up and went to unlock the door. I twisted the key (forgetting to push it back into the lock), and it broke off in my hand.

“Christine, open the door!”

“I can’t. I broke the key off in the lock.”

Silence. Then more laughter.

Fortunately, Bernd had given her his keys, so they were able to get in, but for the next couple of days, Karin had to wedge a chair in front of the door to keep the neighbor out, until Bernd got home and a locksmith came to pull the broken key out.

How Can an Accident be a Testimony?

The accident really hadn’t been anyone’s fault, but the insurance company and the police report had to have answers.

Floyd and Bernd went to the police station together to try to sort things out.

Floyd remembers that the policeman was very kind.

“So, who was driving the car?”

Floyd: “I was.”

“And who was driving the moped?”

Bernd: “I was.”

“And you, Mr. Schneider, are you the owner of the car?”

Floyd: “Yes.”

“And you, Mr. Flock, are you the owner of the moped.”

Floyd: “Actually, I own the moped.”

The policeman’s mouth quivered into a smile, and they heard snickers from the other cubicles in the station.

“So, you’re friends?”

“We are.”

More giggles.

“Who was at fault?’

Floyd: “The street is very narrow there, and the branches block visibility at the corner.”

“I do know the corner you are talking about. However, I have to tell you that someone has to be at fault. If you, Mr. Schneider, are at fault, then your visa will be revoked and you will have to leave Austria. If you, Mr. Flock, are at fault, then you will be fined for reckless driving.”

He paused, probably to give Floyd and Bernd time to think.

Then Bernd spoke up: “It was my fault.” He admitted later that in spite of all that was at stake, it was still hard to say.

Bernd was fined the equivalent of $50 for driving on the wrong side of the street, and Floyd was fined $50 for not calling an ambulance, which he should have known since he had an Austrian driver’s license.

The Lord used this episode, as Floyd and Bernd retold the story to many in the evangelistic Bible studies and in the church. Several admitted that if their best friend had hit them with a car, they would not be best friends anymore, and they certainly would not have taken the blame. They were impressed with the depth of commitment that Bernd and Floyd had to each other, and the fact that their faith made it possible for a friendship to weather such a difficult time. It probably also helped that they loved to tell the story together, laughing and remembering.

Erich bought Bernd a new watch.

The First Baptism

We had not had a baptism yet. At least six of our early converts had been baptized in the church led by the German missionaries, but all of them had stayed in that church or had moved to other parts of Austria.

Ingeborg is a real joy to us all. She is considering baptism, but she won’t be baptized next week, because she wants to go to a baptism first. She went home last week to officially withdraw her membership in the Catholic Church [which meant turning in the Baptismal Certificate and the First Communion Certificate]. Her mother was livid . . . and told her that if she withdrew, that she didn’t need to bother coming home again. After submitting all of her papers, Ingeborg told us later, she longed to come back to Graz to be with her Christian friends. BUT – instead she bought her mother some flowers and went home to spend the night before returning to Graz. Her mother acted like nothing had happened and accepted the flowers graciously enough. I was so touched by Ingeborg’s sensitivity to the situation. She told Floyd, “I had to do what was right.”

September 11, 1984: Good news! We had a baptism last month, and one this month. They were held in a lake about an hour from Graz, at Reinhard and Barbara’s family vacation cabin. Then we had a picnic and a day of fellowship, swimming and good food. Those baptized were Ingeborg, Ruth [Cecilia’s daughter], Reinhard, and our very own Erich! Floyd baptized them and it was absolutely wonderful. Next time we have a baptism, Reinhard will be able to do the honors! That is the most exciting of all.

It was also exciting that many from Mureck came, although some didn’t yet understand the gospel. This was a perfect time to let others explain it, and to have long, extended conversations about many topics. Baptisms were all-day affairs, wrapping up only when it rained or got dark.

We knew that baptism was a huge marker in the life of a believer in Austria. They had already been baptized as babies, and received a paper that their parents filed away with birth certificate and passport. Then, around eight years old, they took First Communion after several months of classes taught by an employee of the Catholic Church (priest, religion teacher, nun). The First Communion papers were also kept by the parents. These were guarantees for them that they would be allowed into heaven after paying for their sins by their good works or the good works of others. (I’m not making this up).

We learned that they believe that salvation comes through the death of Christ on the cross and by doing good works to show that you are indeed a believer. Some people (the Holy Saints, the Virgin Mary, martyrs) have done more good works than they need to get into heaven, so those surplus good works are put into a treasury. The treasury can be accessed by acts of penance (pilgrimages, particularly), by saying many rote prayers, by deeds of goodness, and by paying money.

When a person dies, they will take their baptismal certificate to the pearly gates, and Saint Peter will tell them how many years they must spend in Purgatory to pay for unforgiven sins before they will be admitted into heaven. The relatives who are still alive on earth can speed up the process by all the above-mentioned deeds, especially prayers and giving money to the church in memory of the deceased.

In Austria, the Catholic and Lutheran churches are government-sanctioned State churches. That means that the churches have a right – not always exercised – to collect taxes from their members. More and more often, people are leaving the Catholic Church because of their disillusionment with the child abuse and sexual sins of its leaders. Even becoming an atheist is not regarded as terrible as is joining a “cult.”

When someone became a true believer in Jesus Christ, accepting that salvation comes by grace alone through individual faith – not church decree – there was a mind-set that one could not be baptized into two different churches.

Sometimes, mothers would hide the certificates. It’s very understandable because in their mind, without the certificate, their child will go to hell. And worse: joining a cult was often viewed as a blot on the parents’ child-rearing skills. “Your child has joined a cult? I wonder what you did wrong?” What will people think!

Our Health

Graz is actually an unhealthy place in the winter. Back then many people had wood and coal central heating, as we had had in our first house. The city is built in the Mur River valley and surrounded by tall hills (they would say mountains) on the east, north, and west. The prevailing winds come from the south, and everything gets stuck in the valley. During the winter, we often had a freezing fog inversion for several weeks while it was sunny and warm in the mountains. We could smell and taste the coal smoke in the air.

Michael, particularly, suffered from chronic colds, coughs and bronchitis. The doctors took a pretty naturalistic view to his illness, and usually we had him breathe over warm, salty water. Medicines didn’t seem to make a big difference in how long he was sick. When we finally began planning our move to Vienna, our doctor told us we would be healthier.

At the time we were in Austria, dentists were just beginning to discover preventative dentistry. Most dentists made their money by pulling or filling teeth, so there was little incentive to prevent tooth decay. While we were still in the Bible study with Siegfried and Hannelore, I had a severe canker sore behind my wisdom teeth (yes, I still had them) that would not go away. I went to the doctor, and he referred me to a dentist. I went to the dentist, and she would not even look at it, but referred me to the Tooth Clinic. The Tooth Clinic was at the hospital, and I had heard that they were less expensive. I spent about five nervous minutes while half a dozen female assistants poked around in my mouth, exclaiming over my beautiful teeth and wonderful wisdom teeth – straight, fully-grown-in wisdom teeth – with no fillings. Apparently, there was a flap of gum overlapping the tooth, and the girls figured the dentist would probably clean it or maybe cut it off. Well, the dentist peered into my mouth all of ten seconds and declared, “I will need to pull the two wisdom teeth. Prep her for surgery.”

I was so shocked that the room spun around a time or two before I could pull myself together. I remembered a dentist in my childhood saying he would do anything to save a tooth. I grasped at the first excuse I could think of: “I can’t do it today. I have two young children.”

They sat my chair up, and I escaped as quickly as I could, considering that my knees were still wobbly.

At Bible study that night, I told Hannelore, and she said, “Oh, yes, they just pull teeth at the Tooth Clinic. I’ll get you in to my dentist.” She did, and her dentist gave me cotton swabs and a mouth rinse, and the sore cleared up in another two weeks.

Eventually we found a good dentist who cleaned teeth and encouraged children to avoid sweets and soda. I had a tooth filled (after breaking it on a piece of bone in a pizza), and Floyd had a very successful and unstressful root canal. We also had a friend in our church in Portland who would do our dental work for free when we came back.

Floyd’s seasonal asthma was very difficult for all of us, especially since it arrived with the first beautiful weather after our cold, dreary winters. We could not open the windows, and Floyd always felt his one and only (unfulfilled) urge to start jogging between mid-May until the end of June. It wasn’t until we moved to northern Austria that a doctor, with training from South Africa, found a reasonable solution. To the present, we follow that regimen faithfully every spring.

A couple visits to the doctor had convinced me that I would wait for a trip to the States to have my female checkups. There didn’t seem to be any cover-ups when they asked you to remove your clothes, and that was one cultural element I just could not handle.

Missionaries Need Vacations, Too

Dear Sue,

A fire crackling in a big tiled heating stove. A snug house on top of a hill. Big picture windows, looking out over farmlands to a snowy woods. A long hill for sledding. Walks in the woods, following rabbit tracks and examining the hoarfrost on the trees and snow. Stillness. No telephone. Lots of tea and piles of paper and plenty of sharp pencils. Simple meals, and guys to help clean up. A comfortable chair and a favorite book. Reading Narnia books out loud on a snowy afternoon.

Sounds like a dream? This was our vacation on Rosenberg. Gerhard and Hendrike from Mureck loaned us their vacation house for a week. It was really wonderful–almost too wonderful. For us, this type of vacation can be dangerous, because it makes us long for a lifestyle of peace and quiet. Actually, I didn’t write with paper and pencil much. It just sounded rather unromantic to include the computer in the above paragraph! We both spent hours writing on the computer. But we had lots of time for the boys and each other too. We also slept a lot. We are so thankful that God gave us such a special break. We were pretty much ready to return to work the following Monday.

So, You Noticed the Computer?

I have wanted to be a writer since I could put words on a piece of paper. Up until this point, I had penned unpublishable works by hand on beautiful sheets of clean, lined paper. Once our German language ability was solidified, Floyd had ordered me a magazine called “Writer’s Digest.” He always believed in my ability more than I did. During the summer, as we drove to the European Worker’s Conference, I read my issue of the magazine from cover to cover and discovered a brand-new “portable” computer called the KayPro. We looked into it and bought one. And a dot matrix Printer.

The KayPro was actually barely “luggable,” but we set it up in Floyd’s office and used it a lot. Until now, Floyd had been typing his monthly letters on an electric typewriter, and making carbon copies. Then he would jot personal notes at the bottom. With the computer, we now could write one really good letter to Sue or Uncle Dick or my mother. After printing it, we would tweak the letter, remove the personal remarks, change the name at the top, add personal remarks to that person, and print the next letter. It sped up our letter writing and actually made it more personal.

I don’t want to bore you with things that are now so common to you, but this was revolutionary for us and greatly improved our ability to communicate to more people about our ministry. And at the risk of sounding like I am “beating a dead horse,” let me say again that there is no excuse – with all the technological marvels available today – for missionaries not to keep good communication lines going with their supporters, mission organization, family, and home church.

We Never Saw It Coming: An Introduction to Christian Missions (textbook)

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