A Missionary’s Memoirs (Excerpt 3)
Having finished the year in military school I returned to my relocated family in California. Dad had taken an offer from ABC which he could not refuse and we were jettisoned to the West Coast. Our new home was on stilts over the sand on the Pacific ocean at Malibu Beach. I was given a 1967 Corvette stingray 2+2 as I had just turned 16 and got my driver’s license. Later we would move to Encino in the San Fernando Valley. California was fast paced and the kids were into everything. I fit right in with smoking pot on a regular basis but there was more to come. LSD was introduced through a college professor named Timothy Leary. Outdoor music at the Parks where regularly, Jimi Hendrix, Stephen Stills, David Crosby were all freely entertaining. Jim Morrison of the Doors had just left Van Nuys High School right down the street from my own newly entered Birmingham High. The Hippie Movement was in full swing. Love Ins, rock’n roll, flowered Volkswagon Vans, and even cult murders. Nothing was off limits. Chucky Lovett from my high school joined up with the infamous Charles Manson gang. It was a unique time and the psychedelic era was reigning through the 60s. The Students for Democratic Society (SDS) we’re causing college campus upheavals and demanding free speech. The Berkeley campus was an anomaly soon to become a standard moral theme. California’s governor Ronald Reagan was advised to call the National Guard but Ronald Reagan had a different idea, he said; “Don’t call the National Guard. Call holy Hubert!”
Call Whom? Who is Holy Hubert? The answer was soon to come in loud and clear. Extremely loud and extremely clear. Hubert was a 5 foot tall hurricane for Jesus, totally consumed with reaching the world for Christ. Little did I now that we would live together some years later in Gainesville by the University of Florida. He had memorized the New Testaments in only 6 months after his conversion and then continued to memorize the entire bible within 1 year. He later memorized Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance, the Bhagavad Gita and volumes of history books relevant to biblical Christianity. He knew every Pope, every Pope’s mistress, every illegitimate child in the court politics. And every family fish business that needed a sales boost on Fridays.
Hubert’s appearing was like a voice crying in the wilderness among the people who were hardened, critical, arrogant and lost. Hubert was a regular at many college campuses in America. He brought them a message that was not being taught at their university and couldn’t be found in their over priced text books. It was the message of Jesus Christ. With chapter and verse of the bible, Hubert answered the questions that no one asked but that everyone thought about. He was often violently beat and always heckled but his God given quick wit embarrassed his assailants to the utmost. A heckler would shout; “You gotta be an idiot to be a Christian!” only to be retorted with; “Mister, you qualify!” But under the jeering the cry of emptiness could not be denied and Hubert heard it loud and clear. After all the clamor of the Hippie Movement they still didn’t know why mankind was here. After all the Free Speech emphasis no one really had anything to say. After all the scientific explanations of “how” no one could answer “why”.
A sea of victims, mostly youth, were washed up on the shores of disillusionment in staggering proportion and no one had any answers. Materialism had failed. Hedonism had failed. Politics had failed. Economics had failed. Social engineering had failed. Man as the measure of all things had failed. There was just devastation screaming in the ears of everyone alive. Wars and rumors of wars, nightly news of human life lost both physically and emotionally. The heart is one thing that cannot bear to be empty. But something was about to happen. A cloud the size of a man’s hand had been seen by some. It wasn’t a fad nor an isolated incident, it wasn’t political or hype, drugs, sex or rock and roll. It was the beginning of a phenomena that would come like a mighty rushing wind into the hearts and lives of millions of people. It was called the Jesus movement.
“Like a pearl on a black velvet pillow” Country singer Jim Williams said as he described the treasure of Christ contrasted to the background of his life. Where sin did abound grace did much more abound.
As for me, I was still lost in the background. Very lost. The lights that emanated were psychedelic, flashing and evasive and never revealing the true nature of the objects in the room. But in my future, only four years ahead I would see the gruesome cruelty and fathomless wickedness of the devil I danced with. The light of Jesus illuminated my personal grueling nightmare on Elm Street light years ahead of what any Hollywood movie could portray. I would then find out that I had an enemy who’s passion for my destruction and glee of my demise was wildly driven by his hatred for God.