Acts of the Green Apples

The three of us packed to go to Jakarta -- with no money. How were we to get there? Maurice Nelles had mailed Loraine $200 for our use, but it didn't help much in a bank in California. Spence thought he could have it sent into the country through a missionary organization, but that brought no relief for the present. Ik Wan treated us to a Chinese dinner and his chauffeur drove us to Surabaya to board the train. Just before we departed he pressed a handful of rupiahs into Rick's hand to pay for the tickets. It was enough to purchase three tickets to Jakarta and back on the Lemax, a rather undependable train on which one had to sit up all night. This is the train Ik Wan expected us to take, but we wanted to take the Bima so we could sleep. There was enough money to take the Bima one way if we wanted to trust God to get us back. We weighed the possibilities. Finally we decided that it might not be quite honest to take the better train if Ik Wan meant for us to take the Lemax.

The train ride will always be remembered as one of our most traumatic events. There were bugs in the seats, and they bit us so violently that we were a mass of welts. The air conditioning went out (as it usually does, I understand) and because the train is supposed to be air-conditioned, the windows do not open. The train broke down and remained in one place six hours. They ran out of food and water, and there was no place to take care of the urgencies of nature. The heat was unbearable. Suzy lay on the seat with perspiration rolling off her in great drops. We were all so unhappy and miserable that we wanted to cry. I had the symptoms of heat prostration. How could this be happening to us? There was nothing to do but pray and we did -- steadily. While Suzy was asleep, Rick and I went out and sat between the cars for a breath of air. We prayed and prayed and prayed. It came to me suddenly that we didn't have to live like this -- we were children of the King! I felt it was a revelation.

We knew what was in store fo rus in Jakarta: heat and bugs and water and food that would make us sick. We knew we were to stay with Indonesian Christians, and Indonesians don't have screens on their windows or worry much about sanitation, as we know it. So far we were just not tough enough for that kind of life. The thought came to me that we should go to the Hotel Indonesia. We didn't have enough money to live that way, and we knew the Indonesian Christians wouldn't like it because they thought the hotel a wicked place. However, I strongly felt it was right for us to go. A lot of people with the same feelings would say God told them to do it. I never say that, but inside I thought it was from God.

After eighteen hours the train dragged into Jakarta. Tan Ik Sing met us and we broke the news that we wanted to be left at the Hotel Indonesia. He informed us he had made arrangements for us to stay with a Christian family. Feeling like ungrateful imperialists we declined. The whole thing was a fiasco -- we didn't have any money to speak of, so why were we going to an expensive hotel? But we were adamant, and on the way to the hotel Tan Ik Sing casually asked if we knew the Rev Spencer DeJong and mentioned that he was in the city. How could Spence be here, 550 miles away from Batu where we had just left him? Ik Sing must be mistaken. Ik Sing resignedly let us out at the hotel and drove away leaving us feeling pretty foolish. We went inside. There were no vacancies, and if there had been any they only accepted American money, of which we were long out. We asked if Spencer DeJong had checked in. The desk clerk said he was in his room. We went up to see him, and during the conversation Spence nonchalantly remarked that he had $250 that had come from America for us. When he discovered we were there for a week to speak in churches, he telephoned a friend and obtained a room for us in a guest house for visiting ministers. The minister in charge told me it was designed to protect visitors from culture shock. It was air-conditioned, screened, and possessed three beds with sheets and pillows. Breakfast was included, and it was ours for a week free of charge. Our Boss had come through again!

Many adjectives could be employed to describe Jakarta, and even so it would be impossible to do it justice. Through the middle of the city runs a canal which has been called "the longest latrine in the world." One of the news magazine wrote that the canal had been tested for typhoid bacilli, but it was discovered that the water is so foul typhoid germs cannot live in it. As we rode through the city streets, we could see across the canal to the other side and along it a row of bare bottoms extended over the water. For poor people this serves the purpose of public rest rooms. Nearby is the modern Hotel Indonesia with all the conveniences, but in the elegant fountain in front of the hotel it is not unusual to see children urinating.

The pasar (open market) is fantastic. To a foreigner the odor is almost unbearable. It is a combination of dried fish, tobacco, grain, fruit, and vegetables, mingled with the ever-present smell of excreta. At the same time the place is fascinating. Nowhere in the world have I seen such fruit: ripe tangerines the color of jade; purple mangsteen with yummy white centers; infinite varieties of bananas; rambutan looking for all the world like huge hairy strawberries; salak covered with "snakeskin" and ivory-hued inside with an unforgettable flavor; durien with spikes like a land mine and an odor so foul that most people cannot get it past the nose to eat the creamy fruit; blimbing, crisp and green and slightly sour; djambu, green or red and tasting like an apple; yellow-green pomelos; mangoes of varied types and sizes; and sawoh, a brownish fruit the size and shape of an egg that tastes like brown sugar. When we had money we tried them all.

The Bible states that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, but when I rose to speak in Tak Ik Sing's Presbyterian church it was not witnesses but great clouds of mosquitos which surrounded me. It took enormous self-control not to scratch and dig at the bites as I spoke. At the end of the talk an attorney general in the Army was the first of a number of people to be baptized with the Holy Spirit.

The next night Rick was to speak in a branch of the same church but I was ill, probably from the mosquito bites, which covered me from stem to stern. Of course the people inquired where I was. Rick tried out his Indonesian and attempted to tell them that I had stomach sickness. Amazemnet and consternation appeared upon their faces. It seems that instead of saying, "Sakit berut," he had said, "Sakit baru," which means a "new" sickness!

But that error didn't have nearly as much potential as the one made by a missionary who gave his Chinese servant some money and sent him out for a chicken. The servant was gone for several hours and came back in discouragement to inform his master he would have to have more money as no wife would come for that amount!

Before leaving East Java I had experienced a nightmare in which I had a confrontation with a witch doctor. I awakened to Richard shaking me and I was still saying, "In the name of Jesus -- in the name of Jesus." I had occasion to remember that dream the third night in Jakarta. It was in another church, and I was telling of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at St Mark's and was being interpreted by a college student. As I arrived at the crucial part, the interpreter suddenly became ill and sat down. Tan Ik Sing rose to interpret, but as I again reached the central part of the story, the boy who had been interpreting went out cold with a crash. Several people immediately prayed over him. Another brought water. Other people did other things. Peculiarly, nothing worked and he stayed unconscious. I leaned over him and said quietly but firmly, "Release him in the name of Jesus -- in the name of Jesus!" Instantly he snapped to. At the same time, an odd-looking elderly woman slipped away into the crowd and disappeared. Richard said she had been staring malevolently at the interpreter for some time before he became ill and he wondered if she were putting a "spell" on him. We never knew, but we did see things much stranger than this before we left the Orient -- and we learned a lot of what went on behind the scenes.

On the train I had persuaded Rick to buy a small green parrot a boy was selling through the train window. It cost the equivalent of twelve cents US and was very friendly. However, the parrot kept picking the chain off its leg, and one night Rick reached for his slippers and a horrible squawking came forth from beneath the bed. It was the parrot, who was angry because he thought Rick was going to put the chain back on his foot. The next day the people where we were staying borrowed a birdcage for the parrot. We went to church that night, and when we returned the parrot was on top of the cage instead of inside. He had chewed a hole in the cage. He didn't want to go anywhere: he simply wanted to make his own decisions.

After a week of speaking engagements, we left by train for Bandung. We purchased a tightly-woven rattan basket to carry Sydney in. We had named him Sydney after the parrot in "Fearless Fosdick" who was the head of a gang of criminals. Anyone who could saw out of a cage like Sydney must have had a criminal background.

It was late when we arrived in Bandung and we went to the Savoy-Homann Hotel. The hotel must originally have been modeled on the order of the Savoy in London, but as of now there were a number of differences. It boasted Oriental rugs, but they were worn to threads and so filthy that a cloud of dust arose each time a foot touched them. There were a number of buzzers, each with three buttons -- just like the Savoy in London. The difference was that when one pushed these buttons no one came -- they were not connected. The bathroom was incredible -- it looked as though a bomb had just struck it. Perhaps a bomb had struck it. The sheets were pure linen -- just like London -- but they were gray with age and patched on top of the patches. Nothing in the hotel appeared to operate, but when we studied the menu in the dining room we were amazed and delighted to discover there were a number of choices and the fresh cream of mushroom soup was a gourmet treat.

But at 4:00 AM we were awakened by the most terrifying wailing one can possibly imagine. I thought all of the air raid sirens in town had exploded into sound. But who was attacking? We ran to the window, but there was nothing to see. We telephoned the desk and no one answered. Since we could do nothing at all we went back to sleep, although I half expected soldiers to break down the door and enter. The next day we discovered the hotel was next to a large mosque and we had heard the dawn call to prayer.

We located the minister we had been advised to contact and, although we were expected, no one had decided where to put us. We journeyed from house to house while the involved people conducted discussions about what to do with us. Sydney became restless in his rattan basket. At last in desperation the pastor took us home -- he lived with his son -- and put us in the guest house. As we went up to the guest house, blood dripped from Sydney's basket. It seems he was so impatient to exit he had chewed a hole in the basket and the sharp rattan had cut his foot. It was bleeding badly. We knew that birds frequently bleed to death when they suffer a cut on a toe. We couldn't staunch the blood and, of course, there are no veterinarians in Indonesia -- there are practically no doctors. In desperation we prayed that the blood would stop at once. It did. But Sydney would not allow us to bandage the wound, and we knew that when a scab formed he would peck it off. We prayed that the cut would disappear and no scab would need to form. It did -- immediately. We couldn't believe our eyes. As I mopped up the blood, I decided the poor parrot would die anyway from loss of blood and that we should pray specifically for him to be as frisky as ever. He must have felt pretty good because the next morning before we awakened he had taken the screen off the ventilation hole and had flown out the window. Perhaps we overdid the prayer for that bird.

The pastor had an interesting history. He had been a wealthy businessman with sharp practices. Having been caught and jailed, he knew he was in there for years. A minister told him about Christ. He thought it over and told Christ that if He got him out of jail he would serve Him forever. Amazingly, he was released. He divided everything he owned among his children and has served God ever since. But his wife was not a Christian -- somehow he had never been able to reach her. Whle we were there we spent some time with her, and one day she was convinced, accepted a new Master, and was filled with the Holy Spirit. While she was praying, the pastor left the room. When he returned his eyes were damp. It was one of the nicest things that happened to us, to have had a part in providing the new relationship with one another they appeared to acquired.

Suzy spoke in his church, by invitation, one Sunday morning. It was a lovely little church, and eleven-year-old Suzy looked like the picture book version of an angel with her blonde hair and blue eyes. She was surrounded by the pastor, the interpreter, and the deacons -- all dark-complexioned Indonesians. After listening to her, a number of people became Christians and had an Ephesus experience. Later she spoke in a large church in the same city with similar results.

We really liked the people we met in Bandung. As always, we had difficult time with the mosquitos, but the pastor, in particular, was so charming that he made up for a lot of things. He took us to the markets, and he kept buying little delicacies he thought we might like. We had cheese in Bandung -- real cheese. In most of Indonesia fresh cheese is unobtainable, because the Indonesians have totally rejected everything Dutch. But an old Dutch priest living there made delicious cheese -- it was somewhat like that wonderful Vermont cheese which is too delicate to ship. There was also something interpreted as pigs' feet. I think it must have been meat from the feet ground with something or other, cooked, made into a sausage and sliced. It was served with cucumbers and was worth the trip. It seemed that every church we spoke in had a dinner for us before we left -- usually Chinese food -- and it was always very special. Many Christians were baptized in the Holy Spirit while we were there. Later we were told by the missionary in East Java that the people in Bandung were cold and unresponsive toward the work of the Spirit, and had fought him bitterly when he preached there. It was difficult to believe and made us wonder how they had been approached. We had found them warm, responsive, and hospitable.

The day Sydney flew out the window, Suzy had gone out into the garden, prayed, and picked him off a bush. To contain him somewhat, we purchased a wire cage. He simply bent the wires apart and left. Richard kept twisting coathangers through the wires and fastening them, but invincible Sydney was jailproof and eventually he left for good.

Suzy was heartbroken, so we bought her a dove in the marketplace. A Chinese Indonesian from one of the churches purchased and made her a gift of a mate for the dove and a cage. It was an enormous bamboo monstrosity. At a dinner party the gentleman spent a lot of time conversing with Suzy and obtained her address in the US. The thought gnawed at me that the gift might be an Indonesian betrothal ritual and years later in Van Nuys, I might open the door to the Indonesian gentleman come to claim his bride! So far this hasn't happened, but so far we haven't spent much time in Van Nuys.

The pastor's son was quite well off, and we were informed we could have a bath whenever we desired -- with hot water! This was an innovation indeed, and I could hardly wait. The bathroom sported a real bathtub, but it was full of water and obviously had not been used for some time, so this could not be the accepted procedure. There was also a peculiar contraption called a geyzer (geezer) on the wall. The man of the house lit it for me, told me to watch out because it was dangerous, and departed. It was somewhat intimidating. However, I was determined. By this time the geyser was leaking scalding water. This was a bit confusing, as I was not used to bathing in dripping boiling water. After stripping, I considered standing under the drip, but this was not feasible unless I wanted to exit skinless. It appeared the only thing to do was catch the water in the dippper, mix it with cold water, and pour that over me. It was a lengthy process. As I soaped myself, I turned off the water so it wouldn't be wasted, and the infernal machine began to huff and puff steam. I was frightened but certain there was really nothing to be afraid of. I tried to turn off the flame, but the more knobs I twisted the wilder it became. Suddenly the flame burst into a blazing fire and black smoke billowed forth. What should I do? I could hardly run for help as I was stark naked. I snatched a towel and just then the machine hissed loudly as though it would explode any second. I was terried but thought, "I simply can't go out there naked. If I die I die." As it hissed and screeched and the room filled with steam and smoke I hurriedly dressed, sure that every second was my last, unlocked the door and tore off for the maid. She came, took one look, screamed, and ran for the master. He turned it off. It seems you must not turn the water off while the creature is lighted. That was my first and last hot bath in Bandung. Who knows -- I might have a bad heart -- why take chances?

One night when Rick spoke in a large church a man told him that as Richard talked he distincly "saw" a jeweled kris. The kris is a sword with a wavy blade and is one of the most cherished gifts, carrying deep symbolism. As he watched, the kris changed into a cross, and he told Richard it was God's way of revealing to him what the best gift is and so he accepted Christ as Lord. We had no method of estimating how many hundreds of people discovered the "best gift," but three hundred had gone on to receive the Spirit. It had been a full trip.

When it was time to return to Batu (where we were to spend Christmas with the DeJongs) we discovered we had to go first to Jakarta in order to get to East Java. The old joke was pertinent: "You can't get there from here." So we took the train to Jakarta where we discovered we could not get a train to East Java until the next day. We had enough rupiahs to take the Bima to Surabaya and twenty-five US dollars, with which we decided to buy ourselves a night at the Hotel Indonesia for a Christmas present. Since we had to stay overnight we might as well make a holiday of it (the guest house was not available this time). It was very exciting to be able to spend a night in a hotel with a bathtub -- we could hardly wait. However, we only had enough left to have a hamburger apiece in the coffee shop -- we couldn't buy a real dinner.

The Hotel Indonesia is an elegant establishment and naturally they don't allow pets. Imagine their consternation when we checked in dirty and disheveled with an enormous bamboo birdcage complete with two doves! They couldn't believe it, and of course it was against the rules. The clerk conferred with someone else at length and said to me, pointing to the birds, "Those aren't yours?" I was fearful they were not going to allow us a room -- we wanted to stay so badly. I replied regally, just as though every American naturally carries around a pair of doves complete with bamboo cage, "Certainly." The clerks had another whispered conference and finally sent us upstairs with the roomboy who tactfully placed the doves on the terrace.

In the middle of all of this confusion, Rick said facetiously, "We're about out of money. I wonder if Spence is here."

"Don't be ridiculous," I retorted, "God never does things the same way twice."

"I'm going to ask the clerk anyway."

"That's silly."

Rick said, "Is Spencer DeJong here?"

The clerk said, "Yes." Asians always answer in the affirmative if they don't understand. Richard spoke very slowly, "The Rev Spencer DeJong."

"He's behind you," the clerk said.

Bearing down on us, beaming from ear to ear, were Spence and Amy! We hugged warmly and Spence said, "For a Christmas present, I'm going to buy you the best dinner in Jakarta." And he did.

Spence and Amy said they had flown to Singapore to see their son depart but they had arrived too late. When they returned to Jakarta they couldn't get a plane to East Java. They had waited for five days, and now in desperation they were ready to go by train but they couldn't even get a train reservation. And there they sat in the hotel -- and here we were. I said, "You didn't receive any more money for us, did you?"

"No. None came in. I could call our office here but if it had come they would have notified me."

"Would you call?"

"Sure, but I know there's no use."

We went to our separate rooms and soon after Spence and Amy came tearing down the hall and requested we come to their room, where they stated that $550 had been received in our names. As we cheered the telephone rang. It was Garuda Airlines, calling to inform them they had the long awaited reservations. Spence hung up the telephone, looked at us thoughtfully, and said, "I think we were kep here just for you." We thought so too!

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