Chapmans in Moldova

WHAT GOD DID IN THE NORTHERN CAMP

2008-10-16T22:22:00.000-07:00

One of the most remarkable Christian men I know is from Northern Moldova. His name is Victor Cucivari. Before we bought the central camp, Victor pleaded with me to buy a camp in the northern area of Moldova. In the north there are few churches and little going on to reach people for Christ. Victor was burdened for youth and had a vision to reach them through a Christian camp. When our paths crossed he was sure it was divine providence. The northern camp was nice but not what we were looking for because it was not centrally located in Moldova. We were already in negotiations to purchase the other camp, and we had no intent of buying a second one. Victor was one of these guys that cannot take “no” for an answer, but he is not the overly aggressive type. Going “around the barn” so to speak, he found a way to get me involved in the ministry of reaching northern Moldova: he invited me to preach evangelizations in three villages which had no church. We started our evangelistic outreach, and God blessed it with many souls saved. I spent many weekends up north during the winter of 1999. Every weekend we prayed for the spiritual needs of northern Moldova and the need for a camp there (at least Victor prayed for the camp). One week Victor asked me what would be the maximum I would pay for a camp in the north? A camp was for sale for about $20,000, which was unthinkable for me with the other camp pending. Finally, just to get him off my back, I told him: “If you can get it for $5,000, I will buy it.” Victor worked nearly a year on getting the price down. In the spring of 2000 Victor called, and his excitement was high. He had done it; the camp was ours for five thousand dollars! We found the money and bought the camp. Each week of the summer that camp hosts 140 youth. Many youth have been saved, and the camp is a great blessing in the north of Moldova.

There is a great lesson to learn from Victor’s efforts in the northern camp. Victor had no money and no opportunity to buy a camp, but that did not stop him from accomplishing the will of God. God blessed the faith of Victor and a few others who had been praying for this. Also there was a cost to Victor. One, he and several of his church folks gave up some of their personal land as part of the cost for the camp. I do not know all the details of this, but the cost to Victor and his friends was substantial. Two, Victor agreed to give his life as director of the camp. Most of his extended family immigrated to America, and he gave up his right to immigrate to stay and work there in Moldova. Yet, there are no regrets on Victor’s part. On my part, I can think of no man I’d rather serve with than Victor Cucivari.

At the same time this was all going on in Moldova. I was beginning to work in Africa with my friend Tom Gentry from Romania. I will save that for a special blog, but God has just poured His blessing out on my ministry here in Moldova and in Africa.

In Moldova we have seen in the two camps more than 20,000 youth and children accept the Lord as Savior. I know this sounds too incredible to be true, and it is hard for some Americans to accept. However, considering that Moldova is the poorest country in Europe, that the youth are looking for answers, and that the Gospel is powerful, why would we doubt God is able? My staff and I are very careful not to mislead the youth in our camps about salvation. Campers arrive on Monday morning and settle in for the day. We go over rules and guidelines for the week. This is important considering that 50 to 60 percent of the youth are unsaved and un-churched; however, they all come to camp by invitation of a local church. We tell the churches how many they can bring, and they bring their own children and some unsaved. The churches are eager to come and bring unsaved youth, because they see the change in many of their lives. Each week the youth hear five sermons about Christ and salvation, they hear Bible lessons in the mornings and again Bible lessons directly from their counselors. Each youth is also singled out by the counselors for a private time to talk about their soul and to answer questions about the messages and Bible. Everything is geared to helping them understand their need to accept Christ as personal Savior. So we do not confuse the youth before they are ready, we do not give an invitation until Thursday night. The invitations are very low key, yet we clearly give the opportunity for them to be saved. When the young people come forward at the invitation, we send them out with their counselors to be dealt with. Many are actually saved after the invitation night, led to the Lord by their counselors on Friday.

The result of this method of reaching youth has been phenomenal. This last summer of 2008 about half our counselors had been saved in previous years at our camp. As I visit churches throughout Moldova, I meet youth that were saved in our camp. Many are serving the Lord as pastors or missionaries. I hear testimonies all the time about changed lives as a result of the camp. I would be the first to admit that not all who make a profession of faith at the camp stay with Christ. However many do, and I can not worry about those who stray when so many have stayed with God. We are very careful not to give inflated numbers. Many who come forward at the invitation just need assurance, and some are not serious about accepting the Lord. Our counselors decide the final number of those saved in the camp, and they are taught to not inflate the numbers but to be careful in the reports. Many of the invitations are very sober, and the change in the camp on Friday is remarkable. There are battles and difficulties every week, but that is to be expected because this is spiritual warfare.

The single most important thing we can do for the camp is pray. Satan would love to shut us down, and he tries every year. We have a sanitation inspector that hates us in every way. He tries every year to closes us down, yet every year God intervenes. There are now so many governmental regulations that it is becoming very difficult to operate. There is always the possibility that if a child were hurt or accidentally died at our camp, our directors could go to prison. The cost of running camp is sky rocketing. The dollar fell to record lows this past summer of 2008, and we are on our knees every day asking God for help. I do not know how long we can continue with the current financial situation, yet we will trust God and move forward as best we can. What I can say is this: the camp is making a difference in Moldova, and the future is bright for reaching Moldovan youth. The Bible Institute will also open doors for expanding the ministry, not only in Moldova, but in other areas of Eastern Europe and Asia. At the end of each prayer letter I close by saying “Pray for Moldova.” That means that we believe we can reach the world though this little insignificant country. Is not God in the business of using the weak things of the world?

WHAT GOD DID IN THE MOLDOVAN CAMP MINISTRY

2008-09-25T18:12:00.001-07:00

Part Two

I had solved the mission board problem. Support was secured for at least another term. Yet, there are always problems. There was a group of men that had come over to Moldova and had been a help to me. One of those men was my former youth pastor; I love this man like a brother and pastor. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth. At first it was a great honor to have him come over to visit and help. I needed a humanitarian organization in Moldova, and my friend helped me set this up using his stateside organization as a base. This worked out for a while, and I was happy to have such good friends. However, on one of his trips over I discovered he had brought a Charismatic pastor with him. On this trip everything fell apart; the Charismatic man ridiculed me several times and later wrote letters to my Moldovan youth advising them to leave my church in favor of a Charismatic church. For the first time in my life I had to separate from a man I loved. I could not allow this kind of negative influence in my churches. I failed to secure his permission to keep the organization we had founded together in Moldova, and I had no choice but to look toward registering a new organization upon my return to the field.

Before we left for the field again in the spring of 1998, I talked on the phone to a long time friend of mine, missionary Tom Gentry in Romania. I explained my problem, and he offered to allow me to register my camp under his humanitarian organizational name: Hope for the Future. Tom was running a good camp ministry in Romania and had run a few weeks of camp in Moldova for Romanian speaking churches. I agreed to consider this, and Tom seemed eager to help me under his organization.

We returned to Moldova in the spring of ‘98 and met with my men and, later, with Mr. Gentry. We were all eager to run camps that summer, even if it meant renting a camp until one could be purchased. After meeting with Tom and a Moldovan pastor named Vasili, I decided to use Tom’s organizational name until I could register Eurasian Baptist Mission. It also made sense to run camps in Moldova under the humanitarian organization rather than the religious organization. There were few regulations in those days, but if you were registered as religious, the authorities could cause great hassles. We started looking at camps that spring. Most of them were run down, and many were unusable. Later, just before summer, Vasili found a camp to rent; it was an hour from the capital. After inspecting this camp we all felt that it might be the one God had for us - not only to rent, but also to purchase.

We ran three weeks of camp that summer, and many souls were saved. I did most of the preaching, and it was the best of times. Not only were young people saved, but Christian youth were greatly encouraged. I was convinced we had found God’s will to proceed with this camp. Vasili began negotiating a purchase price. In the end, he had a price of $93,000 in Moldovan money. The camp sat on 25 acres surrounded by the National Forest. It was at the end of a road just past the village of Vatich. There were three completed dormitories, a cafeteria, amphitheater, administration building, club house, sports field, care-takers house, utility buildings, and a small lake. It would accommodate 240 teens and could be easily enlarged to accommodate 300. There was also an unfinished dorm that we would later finish as a school dormitory. It was far larger than anything I had ever even dreamed of. Of course, there would be a lot of repairs, and it would always need work, but it was the dream camp. There was one other problem: we were short $50,000.

I decided if we were going to buy a camp in Moldova, it would only be through clear leading of the Lord. I wrote one letter to my supporting churches and explained the situation and asked for prayer and wisdom. One of my supporters responded and offered to give half of the money - up to $25,000 - if my other supporters would match it. A second newsletter explained the situation in more detail, and I included the matching fund proposal in that letter. I asked the churches to consider giving $1,000 each toward this purchase. The response of my supporting churches was overwhelming. Many of them took offerings and within three months we had raised the $25,000 and the matching funds were quickly made available. We had our $50,000, and we were ready to buy the camp.

These were really exciting days, but we were also under constant attack from the enemy. Just after the New Year in 1999, we entered the offices to sign the final papers for the camp. At that meeting everything fell through. I did not understand it at the time, but my faith was about to be tested; I was about to get a real lesson in patience. There were three board members from the corporation selling the camp that needed to sign the papers. We were told they had changed their minds, and the camp was not for sale. My Moldovan friend, Vasili, was our spokesman, and he reentered the building to find out why they had changed their minds about the sale. Later, Vasili explained to us that the problem was that we had offered no bribe. The company had debts to the government and had to turn over all the funds of the legal sale. The three men negotiating felt like they should have something for themselves from the sale. Vasili, being a Moldovan and raised in the Soviet system, thought that their request was reasonable: add $3,000 to the sale and get the camp now. My thinking was different: what if God was shutting the door for the purchase of this camp. No, I could not give a bribe to get what I personally wanted. I needed to know for certain that it was God, and God alone who had given us this camp, and not my own actions. We waited nearly six months for this sale to be finalized. It was six months of on-again-off-again behavior from the corporation. In the end I learned to trust God and give all things into His hands. We rented the facility again in 1999 and were in our second week of camp before the sale was finalized. This is the amazing thing: because of the drop in value of the Moldovan Lei since the previous autumn, we actually paid $63,000 instead of $93,000! In the end we had the camp and funds to start the repairs. This is really only the beginning of this remarkable story.

WHAT GOD DID IN THE MOLDOVAN CAMP MINISTRY

2008-09-19T07:57:00.000-07:00

Part One:

When I was a youth I loved to go to Christian camp. My church had a camp called Ohio Baptist Acres. The camp was a one-hour drive from Akron and was a converted farm. Every summer I would go for two weeks. When I was old enough to work, I took a job at the camp. I worked there as a counselor or as one of the work crew every summer through high school and for several summers during college. I have always put a high value on camps and what could be achieved by getting the youth out of their environment and into a setting without distraction for hearing the Gospel. During my Korean ministry in San Francisco, we saw many youth saved in camps, so it was natural for me to run summer camps in Tiraspol.

Our first camp was in 1995, and it was for my four churches. We rented an old Soviet “rest” camp for the week. A group from the States came with a program and basically shut me and my nationals out of the decision-making process. They tried to run the camp just like an American camp. I felt it was an utter failure, because few were saved, and their emphasis was wrong. While the children enjoyed the experience, my team and I were frustrated; we were determined to do it differently the next summer. The ‘96 camp was a total success, and we discovered it was a valuable tool in winning children and teens to the Lord. We could use the camp to bring the teens to hear the Word of God; the local church would then disciple the youth for the rest of the year.

Right before we went home on furlough, I was talking to a Moldovan friend of mine about the camps. He made a suggestion that I consider buying a camp facility while the prices were cheap and run Christian youth camps all summer. My first reaction to this was negative, because I was sure it would be too much money. I was also a church planter and had started four churches; this really was my heart as a missionary. However, the more I thought about the camp ministry, the more I began to see it as a way to reach Moldova for the Lord. As it turned out, there were hundreds of camps in Moldova and southern Ukraine, and most of them were for sale. Many of the camps were small and could be purchased for a relatively low price. Finally, I set a goal of raising $50,000 during my furlough to purchase a camp.

That first furlough was longer than I would have liked because of two things. First I saw a need to raise additional personal support due to the change in the Moldovan economy. My goal was to bring my support up to $3,000 a month. My second purpose for that first furlough was to raise funds for the purchase of the camp facility. In those days the most frightening thing I did was visit churches and raise funds. Perhaps it is my personality, but I really hate to ask for money.

Furlough presented several challenges for me. The first great challenge was finding a new mission board. Most of the boards I talked to were willing to consider me, but first I had to resign the present board and wait as long as two months before being officially accepted by the new board. If I did this, I was sure I would lose my existing support, and this left me uncomfortable. I had an existing work in Moldova, and I was also looking to the future and expansion. It was a frustrating process. I scheduled a meeting with the European director of a large board an eight-hour drive from Pensacola. When I got there the director had decided to go to a mission’s conference, and he left me with a director from a totally different part of the world. To say the least, the meeting did not go as well as planned. It was becoming clear to me that God was shutting every door. I was discussing the problem with a veteran missionary out of my home church, and he suggested I start my own board. While this did not appeal to me, because it would just add another burden to me and my family, it was becoming clear that this was the only course of action left to me. After talking to a lawyer about the necessary steps to set up a non-profit organization, I finally decided to start my own mission board. We filed all the papers to meet legal requirements; I wanted everything done correctly and properly. If I was going to start a board, the business side of things was going to be done right. I had seen the name Eurasian several times and decided that would be an appropriate name. So, EurAsian Baptist Mission was born in 1997. To make the transition, I visited all my supporters first and asked them to accept the change and send our support to the new board. All but one pastor and church agreed. After this was done, I went to the old board and gave them my letter of resignation. I never said a bad word to them about how my family and I were treated or their poor business practices. I hugged them and said good-bye peacefully.

There was always the challenge of scheduling supporting churches and other churches for potential new support. Many of my supporters were helpful in providing names of other churches they thought would help me as a missionary. Some pastors even called their friends and asked them if they would schedule me. That was always a sure thing as far as setting up meetings. However, the new board presented some churches with a dilemma. They were cautious in supporting any missionary who came from an unfamiliar board. That left me with the job of “selling” the board to pastors and their people. I’m not very good at selling, so I decided to just put the Moldovan ministry in front of them and let that speak for it self. When given the opportunity, I would also preach the Word of God. I am convinced that God was with me and spoke to the hearts of those churches I visited. I made many new friends, and God blessed in the raising of new support and moneys for a camp. Between registering the new board and the raising of extra money for a camp, I was on furlough for 18 months. I raised my support level to $3,500 per month and $45,000 for the camp project. It was a happy time visiting churches, because they were so willing to help. It seemed like almost all my supporters did something to help meet the need of purchasing a camp.

WHAT GOD DID IN THE LIVES OF MY CHILDREN

2008-09-09T07:33:00.000-07:00

Part Two:

A very important part of raising kids on the mission field is to give the children a sense that they are missionaries too. We always tried to make them feel a part of the ministry. They passed out tracks with me and invited boys and girls to Sunday school. The first Sunday school we started was at Angela’s ninth birthday party. We invited the boys and girls she had befriended to our apartment and had cake, games and a Bible lesson. After that we had a class every Sunday afternoon. That group grew to over 120 children and two separate classes, both meeting in our apartment. This ministry was not just my wife’s, but it also belonged to my children. A few times the children from that class would get into my children’s possessions and steal things. That became a good opportunity for us to teach them that those possessions were temporal and the souls of the children were eternal. I watched God bless my children in the ministry. Later, when we started camps, my children considered the camps as their own and worked for the Lord. Melissa and Angela were good counselors and value their experiences in the camps.

We tried our best to treat the Moldovans, both children and adults, no differently than we would treat any American. I witnessed some American missionaries treat the Moldovans as a sub-culture. They would not allow their children to make Moldovan friends or allow Moldovan children in their yard. I have always treated the nationals both in Moldova and Malawi as equals. Because of that, my children have done the same. Children need friends, and some of my girl’s closest friends are Moldovans. This attitude has made all the difference in reaching the nationals around us for the Lord. It has allowed me to have a large ministry with nationals in leadership positions. It has, at times, hurt me in the missionary community, because I have had to stop working closely with some Americans because of their separatist attitude toward the nationals.

One thing that is often over-looked is that God is giving our children grace to live on the mission field. Without God’s grace and help in Moldova, I could not live here or work. That same grace is also flowing to the children of missionaries. I will tell of our first overseas Christmas as an example. I have always thought American Christmas was overly commercialized; however, I was very disappointed that we could not find gifts that first year for the children. We had always enjoyed gift giving, and it was a part of our celebration. Due to their communist culture, the Moldovans and Russians did not celebrate Christmas, but they attached all the secular customs like decorated trees, gift giving, and Santa Clause to New Years. Because of this, we found a tree only the day before December 25th. It was what you might describe as a “Charlie Brown tree,” but we had very little to decorate it with or to put under it. The girls’ grandparents had shipped a small gift for each of the girls, but most of what we found to buy in the country could be put in the stockings. My father had grown up during the depression, and our first Christmas in Moldova was like what he had described from that time. On Christmas morning I was expecting some tears of disappointment from the children, but I was surprised. I found them excited and happy with their meager presents and with the general celebration of the day. The Spirit of God really rebuked me that morning. God’s grace was indeed sufficient for my children. In reality we were happier without all the trappings. The true meaning of Christmas was able to shine forth in our home as a result.

My wife has also made a great difference in the lives of the children. My wife has demonstrated time and again a godly attitude toward my work and ministry. She has kept a nice, clean home environment for me to come home to after a hard day. She has home-schooled the children, played with them, done crafts, and been there for them in every situation. She made life fun for them. I credit the spiritual growth of my children and any ministry effectiveness as much to my wife’s efforts as to my own. I could not have preached and built ministries if she had not kept the home. She has never complained about being far from America nor cried for the things we left. Make no mistake about it; it is hard to leave your homeland and go to a third-world country. There are sacrifices. My dear wife has never been a complainer. Just the opposite is true: she has encouraged me when I was down, and she has helped the children with all the adjustments they needed to make. Stephanie is a worker in the ministry. She has taught the children in the Sunday school and women in their groups; she is loved and respected by the women of Moldova. She is also not afraid to do the dirty work, whether that is washing the camp dishes or doing the camp laundry. She was exactly the kind of example my children needed to have around them.

The greatest challenge for my children has been in re-adjusting to American life in the States. They are not really Americans culturally, because they accepted the Moldovan way as normal. The American social culture for teens has been one area that was hard for them to adjust to; or rather, they prefer the Moldovan way. Moldovan youth talk, take walks together, sit in cafés or parks or homes and simply enjoy each others’ company in conversation; most of this is done in groups, not in pairs or couples. In the States it is the norm to spend time watching videos, playing video games or some other activity with limited personal interaction. As a parent, watching this adjustment has been difficult. We have sent them back to the States for school or college, and we could not always be there to help them with this adjustment. My children go to church, love God, and are seeking to serve Him. My two oldest girls have married godly men and are serving the Lord in their local churches. My younger two are still in school, and we will see what God has for them. He has blessed our family with a good spirit. As I’ve said before, we have seen God’s hand in everything, including our family.

WHAT GOD DID IN THE LIVES OF MY CHILDREN

2008-08-24T20:20:00.000-07:00

Part One

As I have already mentioned, one of my early concerns about doing mission work was the well being of my children. When we arrived in Moldova Melissa was 11 years old, Angela was 9, Rachel was 4, and Kristen was 2. My earliest anxieties were for their safety. I asked God more than once to take away my fears. I understood that we could not work or live with constant fear. Many missionaries I have met have been consumed with fear, and it led most of them to quit their work before it was ever started. Such fear is not from God. I understood from the beginning that we needed the victory over this fear.

God answered my prayer and removed most of my fears concerning my children. Yet we were under constant attack from the Enemy; some of that attack centered on my children. After the first few months in Moldova, I was asked by my board to go to Kiev and help register our mission there. I was supposed to be gone for three days because I was just going to sign papers and come straight back. After arriving in Kiev, it was clear I would be gone longer, because the documents were not ready. Everything we did in those days took longer than we expected, especially things dealing with the government. I was gone for ten days, but there was no way to contact Stephanie to let her know we would be longer. We did not have a phone in our apartment nor did my neighbors have phones. In those days most of the phone service was very unreliable. After a few days in Kiev, I would wake up at night from nightmares. I would dream of my two-year old daughter falling out of the tenth floor window. I almost decided to come home early because of fear. Fortunately, I realized this was an attack from the Enemy and started rebuking those kinds of thoughts. After this, I rarely had an evil thought about my children’s safety. It has become clear for me that God does not give us those kinds of fear-provoking thoughts. What Satan brings is fear; what God gives is peace.

The first few weeks were difficult for the children. Each night one or more of my children would wake in the night with nightmares. After a few nights of this, I started going in to their room late and praying over each of them, asking for God’s protection for them. I would rebuke the evil one and plead for the Blood of Christ to protect them. After that, the nightmares rarely occurred. The Bible is clear that, if we resist Satan, he will flee. As the spiritual leader of my home, I needed to resist Satan for my helpless little ones. I have had to do this at various times in their lives when they were vulnerable to attack. God has been good to deliver them each time from these attacks.

Many missionaries worry about their children’s ability to adjust to missionary life more than necessary. This can be the place where Satan takes advantage of us and gets a foot-hold in our lives and ministry. The simple truth is that our children will adjust much easier to the mission field than we as adults will. Children can very easily adapt to their circumstances. The first week in Moldova my children were afraid to play with the Moldovan children. Obviously there were language barriers, and we were just different. I would watch my children on the playground, and they would just stand off and look at the other children playing, then come back up to the apartment. One day that first week I gave my children each a pack of chewing gum and told them to give one piece to five different children before returning to the apartment. As I watched them from our balcony, I saw that they did as I instructed. It was like there were two lines facing off to each other: one with my children and the other line with the Moldovan children. The moment of truth had come: would my children be accepted? One of the grandmothers on the playground told the Moldovan children to welcome the American girls by including them in their play. After that my children never had a lack of friends. Sometimes it was hard to get the children to come in at night because they made so many friends and enjoyed the playground with them. As the first year wore on, my children learned the language by just playing with the Moldovan children. With the language down, they were able to feel right at home in Moldova.

There are several things my wife and I did to help the children adjust to the new life. For one, we always talked about Moldova in positive terms. They never heard us talk about anything negative in those early years. Most of the missionary children the age of my children complained about how much they disliked Moldova. After getting to know their parents, I realized the children were getting their attitude from the parents. I could spend five minutes with a missionary kid and tell you, if their parents liked or disliked their experiences in Moldova. It was a telling sign that their family would be short-term missionaries, if they were always complaining about Moldova and Moldovans. My children loved Moldova because their parents loved their work and the place they were working. To this day my children talk about Moldova as home. When they are not in Moldova, they miss it. True, their parents are in Moldova and they miss us, but they miss their adopted country. Most of their close friends are Moldovans. My older two daughters married Moldovan men, and Russian is the predominate language in their new homes.

WHAT GOD DID TO BRING US TO MOLDOVA

2008-08-15T08:32:00.000-07:00

Part Three: Going to Moldova

Tension between the board and me had been growing since Christmas. It may sound strange to say that my mission board was against me, but that is how I felt sometimes. One point of disagreement was that they did not want me to visit different churches and raise my own money. This had been communicated to me by suggestion earlier, but not in an authoritative way. They wanted me to pray in my support in the prayer room. The missionaries that were in town met twice a day in the prayer room. I thought this was a good idea, but I was also determined to raise my own support in local churches that believed as we did. The problem with the Tennessee board was simple: nothing was in writing and nothing was clearly communicated. It also became obvious to me that they wanted to raise all the missionaries’ support through the camp meetings. Later I discerned that this was a method of controlling the missionaries and their activities. If I had seen this at the beginning, I would never have joined their board. Looking back on it now, God blinded my eyes to this and had a purpose for my going with this board.

I would rather skip over this next part, but it is an essential part of what happened in our early missionary experience. I need to tell this story, so people can understand that God has a plan even in adverse situations. If I had rebelled against those in authority over me, I would have missed out on Tiraspol and the great blessings there. Sometimes we have to stay put and let God do His work, even if it is uncomfortable and illogical.

When the pastor/director of the board told me that we couldn’t go to the Ukraine yet, Stephanie and I were devastated. Our first impulses were to fight the decision. I had a calm discussion with the director and saw he was firm in his decision. He had been in conference with the young man he had appointed director in Europe, and they decided over the phone that they didn’t need me in Europe now. They had also decided that, when they did need me, I would be sent to Bulgaria first. My wife and I decided that we could not resign and look for another board due to the time considerations. We did not have peace with resigning, so we decided to just pray. God had known about this, and He knew the situation better than we did. We were going to trust the Lord in all of this and learn to turn the other cheek, just as the scriptures said. During this time everyone at the board treated us like we had leprosy.

One day in early May, 1993, the director called me into the office. He told me I could go, but not the family. He said I was only being allowed to go, so I could see first hand that I was unprepared. I would go to Bulgaria and then visit the Ukraine for a short while and then return to Tennessee. I was given two months for this trip. I had already decided to submit to whatever the Board had to say and trust God. However, this was the best news I had heard in a month. I packed everything I could carry and sent my wife and children back to Florida to be with her folks. I knew, by God’s grace, I would not be returning to Tennessee.

I was met in Bulgaria by a stern-faced man named Carl who was about five years younger than I was. I had never met a man who was uglier in his treatment of me than Carl was. He was the European director for the board, and he was in charge. He had a small group of young men that followed him without question, and he had the ear of the elderly State-side director. It was clear to me that his job was to force me to resign as a missionary. Every day for more than a month I suffered because of Carl’s abusive behavior to me. There were days that the old Eric wanted to raise up and give this young man a good thrashing, but God’s grace was at work in my life. While this was one of the most unpleasant things I have ever had to endure, I have little doubt in my heart that it was one of the reasons we were able to succeed in Moldova. My broken and contrite heart would not be rejected by God. God had me right were He wanted me, and I understood it. I had to be humbled, if God was going to use me, and He had chosen Carl as His instrument to humble me.

After an uneventful month in Bulgaria, a small group of us finally boarded a plane for the Ukraine. It was early June. I had over-heard several conversations about an apartment that had been rented in an area called Transnestria, which was only an hour and a half drive from Odessa, Ukraine. I did not understand at that time that Transnestria was part of Moldova. It was clear from the talk that none of the missionaries from the board wanted to go over there. I asked Carl if I could look at the apartment and survey the area. To my surprise, he agreed. A few days after arriving in Odessa, we were off to the city of Tiraspol, the capital of Transnestria. I was impressed with the beauty of this little Russian-speaking city. The city sits on the Dnester River and is very green with many trees. There were relatively few cars compared with Odessa. After looking at the apartment, which was very nice compared to others we had seen and stayed at, I was sure this was the place God had prepared for us. I had such a peace and longing to stay there; it was just indescribable.

That evening I had a long talk with Carl about staying in Tiraspol and sending for my family to join me. He gave me all his reasons why I couldn’t stay, but in the end he agreed to let the State-side director decide. The next day I talked with the director on the phone, and he gave his consent. I could tell Carl was angry, but it was decided. That evening he dropped me and my luggage off at the apartment. He informed me that I could not contact their translator for help. This would have been very difficult anyway, because I did not have his phone number or address. I had no local money, no food or cooking utensils in the apartment, no telephone or transportation. I did not know where to buy things or how to survive there. Without knowing Russian, it was an impossible situation. On his way out the door Carl turned and said, “You won’t last six months.” That was the last thing he said to me, and he was gone. In my wildest dreams I would never have thought that a Christian could do this to another brother, but it happened just as I described. I would see Carl several more times over the next few months; he would go with me to pick up my family in Kiev. He would visit my church plant in November. But in about six months, he would break his angle and leave Moldova. The curse he placed on me fell back on him.

But that first night I was more alone than I had ever been in my life. I was in a strange city with no one to help me. I stood alone on the balcony in my tenth-floor apartment that night and looked out on the children and adults in the courtyard and prayed. I told the Lord that Carl was right, “I will not last here if You don’t help me.” I had no supper that night and no plans for breakfast the next day. I slept peacefully that night with the full understanding that God had not brought me there to die.

The next morning about nine o’clock there was a knock on my door. Of course, I was a bit apprehensive to open the door. I couldn’t speak Russian and couldn’t imagine who could possibly be there. To my surprise it was the translator, whom I had only met once a few days before. Isaac Vinogradoff was his name, and he would become one of my best friends in those early years of my missionary life. Isaac’s life story is fascinating, but I will save that for another time. That morning in 1993 he was like an angel sent by God to help me in a desperate situation.

That morning that Isaac showed up at my door, he told me Carl had come by the night before and said he was not to visit me or help me in any way. Isaac would later confess to me that he could not understand this behavior but was willing to do as he was told since they were paying him. Isaac told me an interesting story that first morning. He woke about several times during the night; as he was making his breakfast, he thought he heard a voice in his apartment. The voice seemed to say, “Go help that American.” It seemed so real to him that he searched his apartment for someone. Two more times he heard the voice say the same thing; it shook him up quite a bit, and he figured he had better obey. He left his breakfast on the stove and came to my apartment on the other side of town. Isaac asked me if that voice might have been God. My response was, “Yes, I believe it was.”

What did I learn from all of this? First I learned that God has a plan, and I must be submissive to that plan. I learned to stop fighting and let God be God. I was brought up to fight for my rights and stand up for myself. I learned that it is better to follow God and turn the other cheek when I am persecuted. Unfortunately, in this age of carnal Christians, my greatest attacks would not come from the Orthodox or the Communists but from those that should have been my brothers. Two missionaries I helped have stolen church plants from us. I have been attacked by brothers whom I would have died for. Letters have been sent out with false accusations, etc…. In every case I have tried to respond in a Christ like manner. In most cases I have not defended myself or retaliated but left that to God. Those early lessons have kept us in the place of blessing, and I’m so thankful for what God did.

WHAT GOD DID TO BRING US TO MOLDOVA

2008-08-08T20:27:00.000-07:00

Part Two: Finding a Mission Board

You would think that after surrendering to the call to missions, the task of finding a mission board would be easy, but in reality it was very difficult. All the larger boards I called were designed more for young people fresh out of the Bible colleges. Not only was I bit older, I had a plan in mind that I was absolutely sure was from God and that plan was not typically followed by many new missionaries. By the time I started to call mission boards, the majority of them had finished their candidate schools for that year. Most would not consider me until the next school; in most cases that meant the next summer. Most boards also had minimum support levels way above what was practical for Eastern Europe. In other words I was required to raise a much larger sum of money than I would need to be successful for my first term. We had already come to the conclusion that we only needed about $500 per month for our family to live on, plus a work fund. I realize that the boards had been doing the business of missions longer than I, and they were more experienced than I was. But I had sure and direct leading from the Lord, and I felt like I had my marching orders. However, I could not find a single board that would listen to me and allow me to proceed as I felt God directing. My home church and my pastor did not feel they could take on any more responsibility than to be my sending church, so I had to find a mission board to handle my funds.

In late August of 1992, my friend Rick Howell told me of a group in Tennessee that was sending missionaries to Eastern Europe. I was told they were non-traditional in their approach to missions, but they were Baptist. I went up and had a talk with them and attended one of their camp meetings. They seemed like good people, but they were very country and a bit different than what I was used to. My first impression was that I would not be able to work with them and left the meeting still searching for a board. After a week or so I decided to go back and spend some time with the director before making a final decision. After a few days with the director, I decided to go with this board. I felt God had supplied a board for us. These people in Tennessee had some unorthodox ideas about religion and missions, but they had assured me they would help me fulfill the calling that God had placed on my life without interference. They had several missionary apartments and trailers on their property, and at their urging, we moved there and set up house. At first they were very supportive, but I was just about to enter the storm and the final stage of God’s breaking process.

Through the help of my pastor and associate pastor, I was able to start scheduling church meetings. My plan was simple: if God is in this, we will be able to raise some support and I can leave in May or June, 1993. My family would follow a month or so later after I had set things up. Even though I had, and still do have, a fear of calling pastors and securing meetings, I set my face to this task. God was faithful to help me. Half the churches I was in between September and the next April supported us. I met great friends who are still supporting and praying for us.

The first church I attended took us on for support. The second did not, but something did happen in that second church which helped to reaffirm God’s directing. The pastor asked me when I was planning to leave for the field. I responded without thinking: May. I realized later that when I said that, he thought I had most of my support, because I would be leaving in six months. After our presentation of the need, he was so moved that he asked the church to commit to us the annual Christmas offering to purchase our plane tickets for the entire family! God does work in strange ways. He gave us our money for plane tickets before I had raised my support! During my deputation travels many pastors asked me what percentage of my support I had. I had no idea how to answer that question, because I had committed to go with whatever the Lord provided at that time. A few men called me foolish in those days. If a missionary knows he needs $5,000 and goes with $1,000 support, I might agree. But I knew we did not need the thousands that the big boards were requiring. I was also sure that God wanted us to live by faith (not by numbers and accounts) and trust Him for everything.

God works in many small and big ways. Another example of God’s working happened on the return from my survey trip. I was sitting in the airport waiting for the flight to Pensacola. I saw a familiar face a few rows up in the waiting area. I told Ricky that I knew that man; I had seen him preach on television. I went up and introduced myself to Rev. Jim Schettler from the Campus Church and Pensacola Christian College. We had a delightful chat about missions and Eastern Europe. Jim invited me to come by his office for further discussion and scheduled me to present my ministry to the Campus Church in March the next year. The Campus Church has been wonderful in supporting us and uplifting us as missionaries. I have a dozen such stories about how God brought me in contact with those who would support our ministry here in Moldova. All I can say is God did it.

Months before we were to leave, problems began to develop with the mission board in Tennessee. There were various problems, but we stayed with them for the first four years of our missionary work, even though it was very difficult. There were times we really felt persecuted by them, and they were at times cruel to my family and me. They no doubt had their reasons; I suspect the main reason was that we were not as “country” as they were and did not worship like they did. I have never put on a show for anyone, and I refused to believe and behave contrary to my conscious. However, God greatly used these people to put me in the right place: Moldova. The next chapter of this story will be how we finally settled into Moldova. I thought throughout our deputation that we were going to Odessa, Ukraine. In April of 1993 the Tennessee board informed me that I couldn’t leave for the field as planned until they gave the OK. This was contrary to our past conversations and agreements. It was a confusing and frustrating time. It is not in my nature to take abuse; I was taught to stand up for what I believe and “my rights.” But God gave strength and patience to turn the other cheek and pray for God to open the doors in His timing.

WHAT GOD DID TO BRING US TO MOLDOVA

2008-08-01T16:54:00.000-07:00

Part One: The Burden and Call.

The year after leaving California was very difficult. I was sure God wanted us to leave, but it was not clear what purpose God had for us next. We returned to Pensacola with four small children. We stayed at my wife’s parent’s house, who have a beautiful home in Florida. They have always been open to us staying with them; however, I felt like we were imposing. I was eager to find a place of our own and settle in a new life. I needed patience as God worked in my heart. During the course of that year and my search for God’s will I candidated at two churches. The first one was in the deep South. They had just lost a beloved pastor and were seeking a man just like him. Even though we had a good service and meeting with them, I didn’t fit their expectations. The head deacon told me I was not as “southern” as they wanted. They wanted a fire breathing, southern preacher; I was close but I had too much “Yankee” in me. The next church was a very nice church in northern Illinois. I spent a Sunday with them, and they let me know that Sunday night that I was too much the “southern” evangelist; they wanted a teaching pastor. I began to think I should just start my own church, and I was thinking of my home state of Ohio. All of my prayers and thinking began to drift in that direction after Illinois.

In the spring of 1992, some of the men from our Pensacola church went on a mission trip to the Ukraine. I was invited to go but had little money for a mission trip, so I declined. I had always loved and supported missions. Even when I was in elementary school and had a paper route, I gave to faith promise missions. I helped support a missionary from Japan with $5 per month for years. Later in college, I attended mission prayer band, but personally I had never considered myself mission material. I knew from my high school and college that I was bad in languages. No, I would never be a missionary, so why take a mission trip.

A very good friend of mine in those days was a man named Ricky Howell. Ricky had taken compassion on me and my family after returning from California. He was a successful businessman who had a great desire to serve God. He and I started working in the local jails and prisons together. He was one of the men from our church who went on the Ukrainian mission trip. When he returned, I could see he was very touched by the experience and had a story to tell. That next week after his return, he invited me to a Wendy’s to tell me first hand about his trip. That lunch date would change my life and that of my family. What we ate was not important, but I do remember Ricky getting a bowl of chili. I remember, because he never touched it the whole time we sat there. Ricky had a very deep southern accent. He began to tell me about his trip, and I was mesmerized by the stories he told. At one point as Ricky began to tell me about the people who had gotten saved in their street efforts, he began to cry. I will never forget a tear falling into that bowl of chili. I was deeply moved by what Ricky was telling me. At the end of that conversation Ricky, who was a man of action, told me we needed to get some missionaries there as soon as possible. Then he paused and looked at me as if he had just received a revelation. “Eric” he said, “you have a Bible school degree and experience in church planting. You don’t have a church now; you could go.” I was shocked at the statement, and I made a number of excuses as to why I could not be a missionary. Later that day I went home and told my wife most of what brother Ricky had told me about the Ukraine and his trip. I did not tell her about the last statement of that conversation. Later that night all I could think about was what Ricky had said, “You could go.” It was an absurd thought; I couldn’t go. I had a family of six, and I was going to start a church in Ohio, and then I would do my part to support and send missionaries. Plus, I just wasn’t qualified to be a missionary.

Before my talk with Ricky I had seen an article in the Sword of the Lord magazine. The Baptist Bible Fellowship of Ohio was looking for qualified men to start churches in the State of Ohio. I was qualified for this. I had been brought up in a Fellowship church in Akron; I had the educational qualifications, and I had experience. I made a call and set up a meeting with the leaders of the church planting committee. The meeting was set less than a week after my conversation with Ricky. I decided to take my family so the girls could see their grandparents.

On the way to Ohio my wife and I had a conversation about the Ukrainian mission trip. I could tell by her tone that she was troubled by something. Finally she looked at me with a very serious expression and said, “Why couldn’t we go.” This statement came as a shock to me, because I had been battling with the Lord for days about this very issue, and my final excuse centered on my wife and children. God had just eliminated all my excuses for not going. I promised my wife that if the meeting in Ohio didn’t materialize or if I was rejected, I would consider missions and the Ukraine. I spent most of that trip to Ohio in prayer and thoughtful consideration.

My meeting with the men from the Ohio BBF was scheduled for ten o’clock the next morning at a Bob Evans Restaurant. It was my understanding that three men would be present. Only one of the three met me, and the meeting was shorter than I expected. I had been eliminated from consideration the day before due to the fact that I had not gone to their school. The pastor who met me was embarrassed and very apologetic. From my side of the table I almost laughed out loud. I told that pastor how God was beginning to work in our lives to be missionaries. An interesting side note: both of the pastors who didn’t come to meet with me, later supported me as a missionary. God’s hand was in everything that happened, and I needed to trust Him.

Less than two months later we took a survey trip to the Ukraine, but before we left I submitted publicly to the call of a missionary. I told my church, Smyrna Baptist, that I was called to Eastern Europe. My wife stood at my side and committed herself to follow me wherever God called. Sometime later they would commission us to be missionaries from their church.

WHAT GOD DID IN THE MAKING OF A MAN

2008-07-25T11:12:00.000-07:00

Part Three: Boot Camp

After college I was sure God wanted me in evangelism. I tired to get meetings for a year but was not successful. There was no need for a 25 year old evangelist. We finally moved to Pensacola, where my wife was from, and I took a job with her dad. Stephanie’s father was in construction, and I can say it was a learning experience. Mostly what I learned from the experience showed me clearly that I was not meant to be a construction worker. I tried to find a church where we could be of service. We helped out in Stephanie’s home church for a while but finally settled in a little church in the country. We helped Pastor Terri Pergl for two years until he moved on to a larger work in Memphis. After that I decided it was time to get serious for the Lord. I spent some time praying about which direction to go: Northeast or West. I wrote two schools about coming as a student for master’s work and received a reply from the one in the West: the San Francisco Baptist Theological Seminary in downtown San Francisco. I had told them of my desire to get a master’s degree and start a church after that. They even helped me get a job in a Christian School across the bay in Hayward, California.

Early that summer of 1985, we sold most of our stuff, packed up everything else we could carry and headed out on our first missionary journey. I have often said we could not have come to Moldova if first we had not gone to California; California was the education I needed. I worked in the Christian school at Fairway Park Baptist Church under Pastor Dean Goddard, who is now with the Lord. At the same time I was working on my MA in San Francisco. We really loved it there and would have stayed at the school in Hayward, except God had other plans.

At the end of my second year there in Hayward, God opened the door for me to work in a Korean church in the center of San Francisco. I was asked to go there by Dr. Innas from the seminary. The church was losing its young people because they spoke better English and not much Korean and their parents and the church members spoke mostly Korean. Most of the youth had been born in America and were basically American youth. It was a challenge at first due to the hardness of their hearts to the Gospel and the difference in culture. However, soon after I arrived many of the youth accepted the Lord at a youth camp I ran for them. God had put me in a different culture and given me a blessed ministry right in the mist of His preparing us to go over seas. The Korean pastor offered me a full time ministry with his church. The offer was very tempting, but neither I nor my wife had peace about it. In the end we went ahead with plans to find an area of Northern California in which to start a church. We went back several times to work with the Koreans. We ran a camp for them and invited other Korean churches from the Bay area to come. We saw hundreds saved and many lives changed forever. At that time in my life it was the most blessed thing I had ever been a part of. It was in reality a touch of revival. In the difficult years I was yet to experience I would think back on that blessed time with the Koreans and remember: God has used me; God wants to use me. The Lord just needed to do more fine tuning of His servant.

In the late summer of ‘88 we moved to Sacramento, California, to work with Dr. Harvey Seidel of Baptist Church Planting West. Our goal was to get a new church plant off the ground there. We had some success early on, but the church seemed to never really get going. At one point we had over 100 in a service. People were getting saved but there were problems: we had some members of the fold who were discontent; they had been discontent in every church they had been a part of for years. When we finally thought the church was stabilizing, they split the church and went to a new church plant north of us. The same folks that split us ruined the new church plant six months after it started. The split was very quick: one Sunday we had 85-90 people coming; the next week there were 45-50 of us. These were hard times for the church and for me personally, but I was going through “the school of hard knocks,” which I needed. God was getting us ready for future ministries.

I was determined to rebuild the church; this time with the right kind of people. However, for the next year or so I was constantly being set back, and it became apparent to me that God was not blessing the work. After three years in Sacramento, I began to sense that God had a change of direction for us, but I had no idea what the direction was. I approached my wife about leaving California, but she was not for leaving. Another problem we were having was salary. The church just could not support us, and what little support Brother Seidel had helped me raise from other churches was drying up. I couldn’t get a good job while working the church and resorted to pizza delivery and part time jobs. I was starting to go into personal debt.

After a few months I had a men’s retreat planned, and I left for the weekend. The retreat was such a disaster that I sent the men home a day early. When I arrived home, it was to blackened hallways and evidence of a kitchen fire. My wife ran to me and just cried. I could see that something on the stove had caught fire. After assuring me that every one was alright she said to me, “Eric, you’re right; it’s time to leave”. I resigned the church that Sunday with a month’s notice and started the process of settling the church and moving my family. There was a nearby Baptist church that had recently hired a nice young pastor that was willing to take our folks. Sadly, many of our people would never really join and help the new church there. I had also accumulated $5,000 of debt trying to support my family and sometimes paying church bills with my credit card. Within one month of my resignation God had removed the debt, and I was able to take most of our things back East. Honestly, this was a low point in my life. I felt like a failure and others treated me like one. God had not yet shown me what was to come, but God’s best for us was about to begin.

The time with Koreans had shown me that God could use me in His service. The time in Sacramento just knocked about all the pride out of me. When I was in Greenville years before, I sat under Pastor John Vaughn’s ministry at Faith Baptist Church. Pastor Vaughn was a man who had gone through many trials. He preached a series of messages on brokenness. I remembered something he said, “God can not use what He has not broken.” Upon leaving California, I was nearly broken.

WHAT GOD DID IN THE MAKING OF A MAN

2008-07-19T07:44:00.000-07:00

Part Two: The Call to Preach

When I was 17 years of age and in my senior year of high school, God spoke to my heart as I was sitting in a youth conference at my home church. I heard no verbal words from God, but I knew I was supposed to be a preacher of the Gospel. I did not come forward in a church service or make a show. It was quiet and personal. The only struggle I had with it was that I was afraid to speak publicly. I was not considered a leader in our youth department even though I was very involved in the church. I was just an average church youth with the same problems as many of my peers. When I did tell my youth leaders, they were not impressed. Some of them even tried to talk me out of it. There were three other young men from our youth group who were called to preach that year. Each got a chance to preach at the church, and there was fanfare on the day they went off to Bible school, but for me there was no recognition of my calling. None of the other young men finished Bible school, and, as far as I know, none are in the ministry today. In reality only God can call a man and prepare his heart for service. I do not think it strange that God calls weaker men to service and enables them to do what we would call great things in His name.

When it came to choosing a Bible school I had three choices. My church supported only three colleges during that time, and I was able to visit each one. They were all good schools, but one stood out from the rest. I had begun to understand in 1974-75 that I had not received an adequate education. I could not speak publicly, write, or even properly present myself. To be perfectly honest with you, I did not know the difference between a noun and a verb. The third school I visited was Bob Jones University. The campus was beautiful, and that alone nearly sold me, but what about education? I visited the classes and stayed in the dorms, yet still there was little that made the school stand out other than its beautiful acreage and fine buildings. The strict rules did not bother me, because I knew I needed the discipline if I was to stand a chance in the ministry. On that Friday night I had the privilege of attending my first Shakespearean play. I believe it was the comedy “Much to Do about Nothing.” I was not too excited about going until the play began. I was greatly surprised that I could understand most of it, and I found it funny and delightful. After that night my mind was made up. I would go to BJU and get a good liberal arts education. I did not agree with everything that was taught at BJ, but I can say they made me aware of things in the world that had never entered my mind. I will always be grateful to God that I had the chance to attend a school with such high academic standards. Most of my religious convictions were already in place before I attended Bob Jones, yet I was challenged every day to think and stand up for what I believe. I have never forgotten the simple wisdom from the founder that was printed on many of the walls of the school. I made many friends, and my life took a turn that ultimately put me on the path I’m on today. I remember sitting with some friends one evening and discussing the ministry. I remember telling the men that I would like to go somewhere and preach to people that have never heard the Word. I never dreamed that a few short years after that conversation God would lead me to be a missionary in the Soviet Union and fulfill that dream.

The most wonderful blessing of my life came when God led me to my wife at BJU during my senior year. Stephanie Kay Lautner was a junior then. She often teases me that I don’t remember the first time we met. It was a dark evening, and a friend introduced us. I could not see her face, so my memory of it was shaky. Stephanie’s best friend was dating my best friend. They had a plot to get us together, and they finally pulled it off. Mark and Sherry were your classic college couple; they were so much in love that it was hard for me to be around Mark when he was with Sherry. Mark had talked to me about finding a girl; I was a senior. He invited me to his brother’s birthday party and sat me across from Stephanie. We became friends and started to see one another. After a few months it was clear we would be a couple and make a life together. I can honesty say that Stephanie was God’s great gift to me as a minister and a man. She has faithfully served God by my side now for 27 years. She has never complained. She was willing to give up everything for the cause, and she has been nothing but an asset. Stephanie cannot sing; she can barely play the piano; she is not a flamboyant speaker, but she is an example to every woman whose husband is called to missions. She loves the people of Moldova, and they know it; she never complains; and she seeks God on a personal level. If ever there was a person who had taken up the cross, it was Stephanie.

WHAT GOD DID IN THE MAKING OF A MAN

2008-07-11T20:28:00.001-07:00

Part One: Formative Years

There is a story behind the making of every man. This is my story. I was born in 1957, at the end of the baby boomer generation. My parents were Anne and Vincent Chapman from West Virginia. I was born in West Virginia in the town of Richwood. My father had been trained as a school teacher but was managing a filling station, trying to make a go of being a business man. My mom was eager to leave the state, and finally Dad complied. When I was still a baby, we moved to Akron, Ohio, and Dad took up teaching. I was to be the oldest son of five children. We lived a basic middle-class life style without many frills. My father paid little attention to us as children; as he put it, he had children all day long in the classroom, and he needed a break from kids. My mom was never happy during my childhood, and as a result there was constant turmoil in the home. I think the story of my childhood is a common story for those living in the ‘60s and ‘70s. Ultimately my folks were divorced, and our family was split. This affected each of my siblings differently, but the affects on my life by these events were significant.

I was saved at the age of seven, and during my early life I was keenly aware of God and His presence in my life. This is not to say that I was a good child or a bad one, but I was aware of God. I was constantly witnessing about what God did in my life and telling others about Christ. The day after I was saved, I told the Catholic boy next door about Christ and tried to convince him to be saved. Anyone who knew me, even through high school, knew I was a Christian; they would have heard from me the plan of salvation. I carried my Bible to school and gave tracts to those who would take them. Even so, I was in danger of being swept aside by my circumstances. There were several people that took interest in me, and God used them to help me through those difficult times.

I had attended the Akron Baptist Temple during my developmental years; that church had a definite impact on my life. My pastor was Dr. Dallas F. Billington. I loved this man and had the greatest respect for him. Inside of me there was a desire to be just like him and serve God like he did. I regret that I never got to know him as a man, because he died when I was in ninth grade. Dr. Charles Billington became my pastor, and I transferred much of that admiration to him. At the Temple there were many programs and classes for youth. In my opinion, the Baptist Temple had more for youth than any church I have ever attended. There were many people that had an impact on my life there, but I can only mention a few.

There was an elderly man there by the name of George Moore. George and his wife had no children of their own, so George worked with the youth programs and Sunday Schools; I became one of George’s kids. I was in the youth group that he led, but I got close to him when he became my counselor at our church-owned youth camp, Ohio Baptist Acres. I was about 13 at the time; I was a very shy young man. However, George saw something in me, and from that time on I was his personal assistant. This is significant because I’m one of those people most folks don’t look twice at. Even today people come to the camp and see everything going on and then comment on what a hard worker my wife is. I don’t begrudge my wife those comments; she is the hardest working person I know, except for her mother. But it does illustrate that I have never stood out and still don’t, not even in my own ministry. The first time I prayed in public was at George’s insistence. He was there when I taught my first lesson. He inspired me to become a Sunday school teacher at 18 years of age. When God called me to preach, only George expected it and encouraged me to go to school. I was so shy, my youth director thought I should reconsider my calling. However, George knew I was going to be a preacher, and he encouraged me to press on. The cause of Christ in Moldova owes George Moore more than it can possibly know. I am here today because of this godly layman.

There is another side of the picture that cannot be ignored when you look at my early life. Family is so important to one’s outlook and stability of mind. My family was in shambles. My parents did not divorce until I was in college, but the affect of an unstable home affected all of us under that roof. I sought refuge in the church and with my friends. God was good to me to give me godly friends at an early age. Some of my best friends then, and to this day, were the Spencer family, headed by Darl and Mildred. I was friends with the two Spencer boys who were near the same age as I was. The family was from West Virginia, and the spirit of their home was just the opposite of my home. The most wonderful thing about the Spencers was their openness to the youth of our church. We all felt we had a home there whenever we needed it. I spent many evenings there when I could not bear the thought of going home to a fight. I had become so regular in my visits that they would leave me food in the evening; Darl Spencer would say, “There’s deer steak on the table.” They would make extra just for me - or so it would seem. He would let me stay as long as I needed to. Many nights Darl would tell me to lock up after I leave because they were going to bed; they never threw me out or asked me to leave. I was almost like a member of the family. There were other boys from the church that felt the same way, and many nights there were several of us there at the same time. Darl became like a father to me. He took me hunting, on outings, and taught me about things I never learned at home. I preached his funeral a few years ago, and I will never forget him or his family. I am as close to them as my own parents or siblings. To this day I am treated as a son or brother. I survived those turbulent times because of their love.

One other contribution to my life must be mentioned. My grandparents on my father’s side prayed for me often. My grandfather, Rev. John D. Chapman, was a servant of God. He was a circuit riding preacher, church planter, and evangelist. It is my understanding that he had a great ministry years ago in the central hill country of West Virginia. I believe that God honored my grandfather with one grandson that would become a preacher. However, I also believe that he and my grandmother prayed for me with fervency. On more than one occasion my grandmother told me that she and my grandfather lifted me up in prayer daily. God surely used the prayers of my grandparents as a force in my life to keep me closer to the Throne of Grace. Their example of prayer still encourages me today, as does George Moore’s instruction and encouragement and the Spencer’s love.

WHAT GOD DID

2008-07-03T11:19:00.000-07:00

The Beginnings of Ministry in Moldova

It is impossible to fully understand or explain the workings of God in Moldova these past fifteen years. Giving numbers and statistics can give us only the slightest gleams of what really happened in the far away land that - in all its history - never had the Gospel preached in mass until the fall of the Soviet Empire.

In truth, it was God and God alone who put us in Moldova and, more specifically, in the rebellious city of Tiraspol. If we had followed our own path, I and my wife and four children would have started in Odessa, Ukraine. However, God in His wisdom and perfect timing put us in a city where no one wanted to go. Tiraspol was a city of about 200,000 that clung to the old Communist ways and refused to yield to the new central government of Moldova. In 1992 she fought a bitter civil war with Chisinau in which many died. Russia was eager to reestablish herself in Moldova and sent the Russian 14th army to aid Tiraspol. In Russia, the war was billed as a fight to help the oppressed Russian minority in Moldova. In reality Tiraspol was to become a hot bed for the Russian Mafia. Everything was sold or exchanged there for a profit. Even nuclear waste was brought from Russia and stored there. To this day there are vehicles of war on both sides ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

There are questions that must be addressed at some point: How did we end up in this spoiled city of all places? Were we afraid of the possibility that new violence could erupt at any time? All of this will be addressed later, but now let me explain what happened in Tiraspol. We have heard it said before that God works in strange ways, and that could be said of our experience as missionaries.

I arrived in Moldova in late May of 1993, less than one year after the bloody conflict; my family would follow me in July. We spent the first half year getting our family settled and adjusting to the culture and studying language. It was absolutely necessary that we gain knowledge of how to live in Eastern Europe during this period. Life was very hard in Moldova during the ‘90s.

My first ministry in Tiraspol was that of intercessory prayer. I could not say that I understood the principle of being in constant prayer or praying without ceasing. However, every time I sat on a bus or walked in the town or looked at any individual, I asked God to save them and that the truth of His Word would reach them. I cannot say that I prayed all night or that I walked for days in the woods deep in prayerful meditation, but the Spirit of God was constantly speaking to my heart about the needs of the people, and I responded in prayer for them. Honestly, I had a broken heart for them and no doubt that came from the Lord. I also realized my own inadequacies. I understood more than ever that if God did not work through me, we would not see people saved or accomplish the mission.

We decided to hold our first evangelization in November of 1993. On that Sunday we were concerned because the first snow of the winter had just fallen on Saturday night, and I knew there was no heat in the rented building. At that time in Tiraspol there were no public heated buildings for rent. The State controlled the heat, and our homes were barely heated; we understood just how bitterly cold a Russian winter could be. However, on that first Sunday, to our surprise, there were over 100 persons that attended. That first service lasted for about one hour, and it was clear to me that God’s Spirit was working through me and in the 100. We announced we would be there every Sunday and informed them that Stephanie would have a class for children in the lobby that next Sunday. Stephanie had already started a class in our home that had grown into two classes with over 120 children attending.

The next Sunday there was nearly a capacity crowd in our 300 seat auditorium. Stephanie had more children than she could count that first week, and we were off and running. Some of what fueled the crowd was the giving away of whole Bibles. I promised the people a Bible if they attended five services. In those days very few people owned a Bible, and everyone wanted one. By making them come five times, I was assured of getting five chances to preach the Gospel to each attendee. There is no question that God was working in hearts and gave them a great desire to listen to His Word.

I told the people every week to leave their problems at the door and come ready to receive something from God. I can honestly tell you that the meeting place was the most peaceful and serene place I have ever been in my life. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union the People of Tiraspol had seen war and economic collapse. One man told me that one day he had been worth enough money to buy a summer home and a car, and the next day that same amount of money was worth five loaves of bread. These were very hard times for the people. Yet it was clear that God had prepared them for receiving the Gospel.

The meetings were not what most would expect. My sermon was not only the main event, but it was the only event. There was no music, no testimonies, only the preacher with His Bible. Of course, I used a translator, and he wasn’t even a Christian. My first translator was a former student of the military academy in Kiev. Since he had never studied the Bible, he did not know Christian terms. So we went over every detail days before the message. I realized only later that he did not use the terms we would use to describe a doctrine, but he would give the detailed version or description of my words in the translation. This turned out to be better because no one would have understood the Christian terminology. God was in every detail.

Every Sunday I would invite the people to stay after the service if they had been touched by the message, and I would give them an opportunity to accept the Lord. I learned many lessons in dealing with Orthodox and atheist people. It was very difficult to get past the works element that was entrenched in their hearts. For example, one Sunday I realized that many of them thought that the prayer of salvation would save them. Several of the ladies came to me and asked me to have that prayer printed so they could pray it every day to guarantee access to heaven. I simply stopped using the language used by so many to lead a person to Christ. I have never led a person in the sinner’s prayer in Moldova since, because that prayer becomes the crutch on which they base their salvation. Honestly, I am skeptical of all the mass evangelisms that took place in the early days here in the former Soviet Union. In my experience very little long term results came out of the mass meetings from those early days. Nothing can substitute a missionary giving his life on a mission field. I understand pastors, evangelists, and laymen want to be a part of a great evangelist effort. Yet the Scriptures are clear that you can not reap where you have not sowed. It was easy to get folks to pray a prayer but few were saved on the first meeting or even the fifth meeting leading up to receiving their Bible.

After many months of labor or sowing, I saw one Sunday the Spirit of God fall on our gathering. We had changed meeting places and moved to the largest auditorium for rent in our city; we actually rented all three auditoriums on that site to accommodate the Sunday schools. That Sunday in the spring of ‘94, with over five hundred persons in attendance, I faced a weeping and sober group of people. As I started my sermon, it was clear I needed to stop and let God have His way. I asked the people if they finally understood that salvation was all Christ - not works or prayer or religion. “Yes,” was the answer given almost in unison. The invitation from me was to come and kneel on the dusty floor in the front of the auditorium and stay there until you know you have Christ. They came by the hundreds, and that day I knew in my heart many had been saved. There was such a change in them that can only be described as glorious and miraculous. After that Sunday we saw folks saved in almost every service for several years.

Many of my dear attendees of the earlier meetings were middle aged women with grown children and grandchildren. This group of women later became my most stanch supporters of the work. However, when they first started attending the meetings they were the most troubled. Many of them were plagued by dreams and visions. After listening to them relate their problems, that I will not describe in detail here, I was convinced they were being oppressed by evil spirits. This continued until the day they were saved on the great Sunday I have described to you. After that I never heard a single lady who had been saved speak of these events again. They had been completely delivered. Many of my men attendees were alcoholics, and they were delivered from that sin. There were many hearts delivered from sin that day, and God continues to work in them even now.

In the summer of ‘94 we prepared the people for baptism and were given permission to use the local swimming pool for one hour at 8 AM on Sunday mornings. It took three Sundays to baptize all the people that had been saved. My ministry has always been characterized by folks getting saved. I saw hundreds of Koreans saved in the San Francisco bay area several years before coming to Moldova. Honestly though, I have never been a part of or seen anything like what happened in Tiraspol from 1993 to 1996. It was truly a work of the Spirit of God and a blessed time. After 1996 the Communists clamped down on all evangelistic efforts and made it difficult to work. God moved our family to Chisinau to work with camps and to begin our effort to reach Moldovan youth. I turned over the churches that had been started to the nationals, and the works became self supported. All of the churches exist today. They are smaller due to the fact that the government’s policy of communism has forced most of the able bodied men to work in Russia or somewhere in Europe. We lost our first pastor to immigration, and he now lives in the Seattle, Washington area.

Our work with youth in Moldova has been no less miraculous. But I will never forget those happy days in Tiraspol where so many new brothers and sisters in Christ were born. It is impossible to say just how many were saved in those days; that knowledge rests with God, but I can say there were thousands saved or touched by the work. Including the camp ministry, more than 30,000 have made professions of faith in Christ. It is not possible for me to travel in Moldova and not meet one of the converts of our ministry. I was talking to a young pastor one day, and he asked me if I knew he had been saved in the camp. I hadn’t known it, but I was glad to hear it.

It is obvious to me that no credit can go to any man for what God has done in our ministry. I am just an average guy who was willing to come by faith. I knew from the beginning that God would need to build the house or there would be no house. My story is simply that if man will obey, God will work through that man. When God chose me He was choosing one of the weak things of the world. The main point is, if God can use me, he could use anyone. My family is living testimony that God will go with you, take away the fear, and use each family member for His Glory. To experience this, you must first be willing to go, and then to go upon His calling and command.