Called to Controversy (18 page)

In an instant, any doubt of how the young believers in Jesus might be received by Ceil's side of the family was gone. Shirley, face beaming with happiness, ushered the little family into the Elfbaum home and into a new and sweet relationship. With tears, Harry explained how all his life he had prayed constantly that one day the Almighty would give him back his daughter. Now at last that day had come. His two eldest, the twins, were together once again, and they were joined by their half brothers, Gerry, Stanley, and Larry, the sons of Harry and Shirley.

None of them seemed to care a bit that Moishe was training to be a missionary. Harry was thrilled that his little girl had met a Jewish man who was a good husband and father. Lyn quickly stole everyone's heart as the first grandchild of Harry and Shirley and the first niece of all the sons. It was difficult to say good-bye after the initial reunion, but now that they had been reunited, the relationships would last a lifetime.

The Rosens returned to New Jersey and settled in with help from Emil Gruen, the ABMJ missionary who had recruited Moishe. He lived in nearby Livingston with his family, and they were very kind to the Rosens. They loaned them some items that their own children had long since outgrown, including a crib.

The first day of Northeastern was an orientation. For Moishe, this proved to be an introduction not only to the school, but also to the culture. He had already experienced and recovered from some amount of culture shock through regular attendance at Trinity Baptist—but the new school culture was to pervade each and every day, including his home life. Moishe recalled,

That first day we received mimeographed sheets and spent a lot of time in prayer; many of the prayers had been printed out for us. Some were very moving and I still remember one of them: “Lord, if this is the time when you want to call me and prepare me for your service, please make my heart and mind and will ready to receive it from you.” Another prayer that I remember, but didn't really understand at the time was: “Help me to put aside the foolishness of this world and seek the substantial things of heaven.” I wondered what the word
substantial
meant and how we were supposed to seek the things of heaven.

I also remember thinking that some of what they required was silly. One of the printed handouts was titled “Ministerial Decorum.” Part of the “decorum” was a dress code. Men were supposed to wear coats and neckties on campus, preferably dark suits. That made me uneasy, so I asked about it. I was told that I had to find a new level of dignity that represented my profession.

In later years, Moishe freely admitted that he had an “attitude.” Anything stated in absolutes rubbed him the wrong way, and he often challenged his teachers. “I do not know what was in me that was so contrary,” he said, “but I enjoyed doing that. It was not that I thought I knew more than the teachers, but I wanted to prove that certain ones did not know as much as they thought. I got along much better with those who were not so quick to make sweeping, absolute statements.”

By their second summer at school, the little family discovered public beaches and occasionally drove down to the Jersey shore, sometimes bringing along their friend and fellow nonconformist, Catherine Siewell (later Damato).

Catherine quickly became fast friends with the Rosens. She recalled,

It was either the first or second day at Northeastern that I saw Moishe—then Martin—and Celia come walking through the main hall toward the dining room. I thought they looked very exotic. They appeared solidly American, but different. I wasn't much aware of Jewish people at that time. Somehow or other we spoke, and I took to both of them immediately. Moishe had a terrific sense of humor; he and I pretty much laughed at the same jokes. Eccentric is his middle name. I think that's why we hit it off so well.

The Rosens found Catherine fun and easy to be around, as well as a truly godly person who had an exemplary commitment to help others. Occasionally she even babysat.

Applying himself academically was challenging for Moishe, who had not been to college full time before. He'd just taken courses at Colorado University. At the time, he hadn't cared much about his grades. Now that his education was being sponsored by the ABMJ, Moishe felt obligated to do reasonably well, not only in gratitude for their support but in order to prepare properly for ministry. Ceil helped with his studies, typing his papers, helping him memorize the Greek alphabet as well as poetry for his literature class.

Even more challenging than the academic discipline was trying to understand how to relate in this new context. Moishe was not only learning facts, he was learning, or at least trying to learn, the value of being polite outside of the workplace. He was also learning the discipline of taking some classes not because they interested him, but because they were required.

He accepted that he was at this particular school because he had put himself in the hands of the mission agency that was sponsoring him. His experience with the army and the National Guard had taught him to think in certain terms. As he put it, “If you're in the army, and they send you to the Aleutian Islands, you don't wonder if you might be happier in a warmer climate. It's the Aleutian Islands for you.”

Initially Moishe had asked his sponsors if he might enroll at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, which was founded by a great evangelist for the express purpose of equipping people to bring the gospel to unbelievers. Emil Gruen agreed that Moody was a fine school but patiently explained why Northeastern was a better choice. It would enable Moishe to be close to New York City, which was the largest Jewish community in the world. He would have the greatest mission field practically in his backyard, and he would be with a well-established organization where he could see how to do things right. Moishe accepted this, and his outreach experience in New York City did prove to be invaluable, as were some of the connections that he made there.

However, Moishe later critiqued some of his choices:

I made the mistake that most people make when they go to Bible college or seminary; I let the school start organizing my time and my witness and my ministry. I was seeking out and witnessing to people before I went away to Bible college. But once I got to school, there were structured opportunities and scheduled activities to minister to people in jail and at rescue missions.

In a sense, I began to rely on the school and the mission to put me in contact with people. I went from being a very active witness—trying to talk to everyone I met about Jesus—to being passive, waiting until it was time to go here or go there for the purpose of telling others about Jesus. I lost some of my natural enthusiasm, and the zeal that had made me a good witness was blunted. The school and mission seemed to be satisfied with too little.

At one point, the pendulum swung the other way as the school scheduled a conference known as Deeper Life Week. Ordinary classes were suspended so that students could listen to the four speakers. Each speaker had a day in which to speak three or four times, emphasizing a particular aspect of spiritual life.

All the speakers set parameters for the minimum amount of time and effort that students should give for that particular aspect of spiritual life. One speaker explained that each student should have devotional time of at least an hour of personal prayer time. Another said that students should spend at least half an hour in daily Bible reading. Yet another told of some godly person who didn't allow himself to go to bed at night until he had led at least one person to the Lord.

Moishe took each admonition seriously and felt weighed down by his inadequacy. As for the third admonition about leading one person to Jesus each day, he recalled,

I knew I couldn't do that, but I made a promise that every day I would try to explain the gospel to at least one person who didn't know Jesus. This promise was not easy to keep because everyone connected to the school was a professing Christian.

Each day of that conference put more pressure on me. I felt terribly guilty that I did not measure up to the standards set forth. Finally, the week came to an end, and I realized that I had not explained the gospel to
anybody
. . . . I decided to go down to the bus station, where I knew the driver stopped at midnight and left at 12:15 a.m. I reasoned that at least I could talk to the driver about Jesus. . . . The bus driver saw me coming. He jumped in the bus, slammed the door, and began the route early.

This ludicrous scenario helped Moishe realize that he had taken the deeper life speakers too literally and that spiritual growth would be a matter of reasonable efforts on his part and plenty of grace on God's part.

Moishe's passivity and attempt to conform were temporary and did not mean that he had become docile. Chapel proved a good example. Certain speakers came with an obvious agenda to recruit missionaries, and they spent their allotted time promoting their own organizations. Moishe grew very annoyed with this type of speaker. Equally annoying were others who repeated the same message over and over: “When you get out in the real world. . . ” and they would go on to say what a different life students could expect from the sheltered upbringing they'd had. Moishe wasn't sure who they were addressing, but he felt he'd come from “the real world” to be at the school.

Although he attended chapel on most days, Moishe and Catherine occasionally used the time to get coffee and donuts if they suspected a speaker would not be worth hearing. When they were confronted about this breach of a school rule, Moishe stood up to the president of the school and said, “If you and the rest of the faculty would sit through chapel and see how awful some of these speakers are, you'd understand why I skip some of them. It doesn't help my spiritual life when speakers act like we have to show we are dedicated Christians by going to this field or that field. I already know the mission I'll be serving with. I feel like I'm taking a browbeating every time I listen to one of these organizations that make you feel guilty if you won't consider serving with them or donating to their cause. And the ones who talk as though we have no idea what the real world is like treat us like we are children.” He paused, wondering if he was about to get thrown out of school.

The president simply said, “All right, you two are a little older than the other students, and you may use your discretion to be excused now and then. But don't make an issue of it or flaunt your absence.”

Moishe enjoyed hearing some of his favorite faculty members at chapel, and he also made a point to be in chapel when anyone from the ABMJ was speaking. Charles Kalisky did not promote the ABMJ; instead he talked about Israel. Henry Heydt, also from the ABMJ, did not promote the mission either. Moishe said, “I appreciated the way the speakers from the ABMJ tried to give something meaningful to benefit the students without making a big deal about the mission. And I noticed they never expected an offering or used guilt to solicit students' support. Both of these things made me proud to be associated with them.” This stark comparison led Moishe to a conscious and lasting decision: if ever he got a chance to speak at any school's chapel, he would be sure to give something meaningful to the students rather than try to get them to give to him or his mission.

Moishe also attended chapel whenever Charles Anderson, the school president, spoke—even though Anderson had excused Moishe from going. He said, “Dr. Anderson had this very practical and straightforward approach that I liked.”

Charles W. Anderson was not only the president of NBI; he was the founder. The school had started as Brookdale Bible School on the campus of Brookdale Baptist Church, where Anderson was pastor. The church and school remained affiliated, and students were generally encouraged to attend Brookdale Baptist Church. This was fine with Moishe and Ceil, whose only church experience had been at a Baptist church similar to Brookdale.

The teacher who most influenced Moishe was William Lincoln, of whom he often said: “If William Lincoln taught a sewing class I would have taken it. I would have taken any class from him because I knew that I would learn more about God and about life, no matter what subject he taught.” Lincoln taught church history, and he was not an easy grader. Moishe recalled:

William Lincoln was so enthusiastic for God—a person of deep feeling. He would talk about the Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre that happened centuries ago and his eyes would fill with tears. He must have taught the material countless times, but you could see he felt just awful about the lives that were lost so many years ago. He was also the first person I heard say that Jesus had a wonderful sense of humor.

Lincoln's only graduate degree was a THB from Princeton. But he was a very well-educated man who had concluded that all education is self-education. He showed me that going to school gives one the opportunity to learn—but no one can teach you anything; you teach yourself.

Lincoln was not as strait-laced as some of our teachers. He knew the value of strategically used sarcasm. For example, somewhere I picked up the idea that if people didn't hear the gospel, God would not hold them responsible for their sins—that if they lived mostly righteous lives, they would go to heaven without receiving Jesus. I brought this up in class, and he stood there and nodded his head. Then he said, “If that's true, maybe we should stop preaching the gospel and keep Jesus a secret. Think of all the people we're sending to hell by preaching the gospel.” Then he went on to explain what the Bible teaches, but his ironic or sarcastic approach was just what I needed to get my attention. Later in life I often used that same approach.