Parting is such sweet sorrow
Something I have always observed in places of travel is the high level of emotion on display. Whether it is a trains station in Europe, a dock in New York or an airport in Cape Town, people openly let go of their feelings and have no shame to show it. The moment is too big. The moment is too real. The moment is too unbearable. There are releases of great joy and abundance of happiness as people rush to embrace after long absences and glorious reunions; there are neck hugging moments of tear filled farewells that touches the hardest heart; there are moments of tip-toe waving and blowing kisses and there are sad shouldered turn arounds with cheeks dripping with moisture of tears.
When will I see them again?
The long wait is the thing that gnaws at the heart.
I remember distinctly when my parents said goodbye to me at Jan Smuts Airport, (it has changed name twice since then and probably will change again, so for those who do not know where that is, it is Johannesburg International Airport, now also known as O.R. Tambo International airport) when I left South Africa to go and study the Bible in the desert of Arizona in Miracle Valley Bible College, how they smiled through the tears and said: 'if we never see you again, we give you to the work of the Lord, son!' Their words echoed in my mind for hours afterwards and I also shed some tears.
Many years later I found a video film in Milnerton Public Library, entitled, 'The Black Robe'. It told the tale of the Jesuit priests who gave up their lives to reach the north Canadian Indians in a snow covered environment. When one of the young priests greeted his mother, he said, 'you will never see me again.' She knew and she shed a tear and took one last look at her son. Then she turned and walked away. He gave his life to reach those heathen Indian tribes and died there. The medicine man told the Indian chief: 'he steals the souls of our people by making that sign of a cross on their foreheads.' The chief had him murdered. That movie made me cry. I could never watch it again, but it keeps on returning in my sub-conscious mind.
The plane is made in the shape of a cross: the body with the two outstretched wings...if seen from the tail camera it resembles a cross. I once heard the words inside of me: 'planes have become your cross,' while watching the plane on the small video screen in the economy section.
When I was young I heard a voice say to me: 'I've counted your travels' (In Afrikaans: 'Ek het jou omswerwinge getel.' I cried because I never bothered to count my travels to other lands at that stage. So I retraced my steps and counted 26 journeys. Since then I have had 246 International flights (not counting the inland flights in all the countries I have been to, like Australia, South Africa, South America, America, India, Europe, UK, China.) Flying has become a part of my cross, yes.
So when I go to an airport and experience the overwhelming emotions of people who might not travel as often as I do, it still touches me, after all this time, especially if I know them.
We said goodbye to our daughter Yve who married Don, an American. There was much tears, although we were also filled with joy for their future. The admixture of joy and sorrow is strange, but true, especially at an airport, or at a harbour, or on the platform of a railway station.
Parting is such sweet sorrow - Shakespeare.

Original Genius

Graham Bernard Shaw wrote about original genius and said there are those who contribute to the life force and they are normally original thinkers. Japan tends to copy America in everything. It's quite sad because America just about destroyed that nation with the A-bomb and now they bow to them in copying them in everything. It was something I observed while in Japan. In life too there are people who copy what original genius create. 

Luke, one of our church musicians, remarked yesterday: 'the reason I do not like most Christian music is because they always try to copy what is in the world already and they do such a bad job of it!' 

When the Beatles emerged, suddenly there was a host of other boy bands: The Animals, The Troggs, The Small Faces...everyone suddenly grew their hair to hang on their foreheads and every band had three guitar players and a drummer.

Pioneers pay a price of being rejected and despised at first but later on they are emulated for the very thing they have been rejected for. Moses for instance: Acts 7 they say that the Jews rejected Moses as their leader but the same Moses led them out by the hand of the Angel that appeared to him in the burning bush. They said, 'who made you a judge over us?' That same Moses became their judge in the wilderness. What people accuse you of can become your epithet. The Jews said Jesus is not our king, and they got Pilate to crucify Him, but Pilate wrote in three world languages: The King of the Jews! And hung it on the cross above Jesus' head. The accusation became his title.

They used to mock me as a little boy and call me 'apostolie!' from across the street and at school the teachers called me 'Pastoortjie'. Little did they know they were announcing my mission and ministry in life, simultaneously? It was hard being mocked and despised because I was Pentecostal, but I am what I am today because of the persecution I have received.

If the devils knew what was happening when Jesus was crucified they would have prevented the crucifixion. When they rejoiced that Jesus died, they were sealing their own defeat forever!

Think about this principle and it will bless you too - for all of us have some area where we have been rejected and despised, but God is our redeemer, He redeems these areas and turns our negatives into positives.

Do what you can

One of the most amazing statements Jesus ever made was when he released a woman from the opinion of other people. It happened when he was having a meal with some religious scholars. She came in and broke an alabaster box full of spikenard, a very expensive perfume that was normally a savings account towards a wedding, and poured it over Jesus' feet and dried his feet with her hair. Can you imagine the mess of the broken vessel, the running oil and the oily hair? And not to mention the smell in the air: the food smells and the strong perfume mixed. Judas Iscariot the treasurer of Jesus' party was offended. 'She could have sold the perfume and given it to the poor!' he reprimanded. The religious scholars were alarmed that Jesus did not know what kind of woman that was. She was a street lady, but Jesus did a lot for her when he cast 7 demons out of her and set her free. She wanted to return the favor. Can you see her standing in the entrance, hesitant, not sure if she is doing the right thing: she is giving up her savings for her future marriage to spill it on a man that helped her. How will he react? Will he be upset? Will he accept her offering? It took so many years to gather the spikenard... and now it will all be gone in a few seconds! But then she took the courage of her conviction, burst forward and broke the alabaster box and scooped up the flowing perfume and washed Jesus feet with it. Then she dried it with her hair... for at least she will have the perfume that she washed the Master's feet with in her hair for a while. She will treasure it as long as it lasts. When everyone scolded her and told Jesus he had to stop her, Jesus came up in her defense: 'Leave her alone - she did what she could! Since I came in here you did not offer Me any water to wash My feet, but she washed it for me! And what she did will always be remembered as a memorial to her, because she anointed Me for my burial.' He was speaking prophetically and most of them did not understand that He was referring to His crucifixion. She did what she could - that is really all the Master asks of us. Sometimes we feel that we never do enough, sometimes we overdo it - but as long as we do what we can, the Master is satisfied and He will come to our defense. It takes such a strain off us when we know we can simply do what we can and then it will be sufficient. It breaks the yoke of other people's expectations and cracks the burden of their opinions about us. The Master is happy if we do what we can for Him and for others. It is so simple it is staggering!

Along the Way

Along the Way Along the way I saw a little boy play Bull-Fight with a long horn African cow. He used a sheet of white plastic for a cloth which he dangled in front of the cow. He stared at the cow and challenged it to charge at him. The cow paid no attention to him, even as he stepped closer and closer! I saw the many roadside stalls along the way selling just about everything you can think of, from raw meat hanging on hooks in the sun, to manikins nailed to wooden crosses to display clothes! I saw a traffic officer clad in white trying to direct the traffic but no one paid attention to him. He blew his football referee’s whistle in vain. The drone of traffic noises overpowered him. I saw a vendor leading four goats on four strings, but one of the goats kept on lying down in the tall grass to rest! I saw a huge crane sitting on a steeple like a weather horn waiting for the wind to blow. I saw a deserted mission church in the jungle. I saw school children walk along the road in the villages balancing their books on their heads. I saw people walking on railway tracks because the railroad system is non-existent in Uganda.

Unsung Heroes

Martin Luther made a sudden vow to become a monk when a lightning bolt killed his mate next to him when they were on their way home from a drinking binge. Well, so the story goes!
Think about that...without that event Luther would never have gone into a monastery and the Reformation that changed the world would never have taken place and the bible would not have been translated into German! Wow!
But we do not know anything about the friend who literally gave his life to spark off the desire in Luther, or the fear, really, to dedicate the rest of his life to God!
Sometimes a friend's death is the thing that changes someone's life!
Well, Jesus's death changed millions of lives...When you realise He died for your own sins (that you should go to hell for) you suddenly feel like dedicating your life to God as well, maybe even become a reformer, like Luther!
It is often the unsung heroes that never get a mention in history that sparked off the bravery and dedication of the known heroes. Who will remember them? Who will reward them?
Barrabas was a murderer and a thief and he got set free instead of Jesus on the day of the Passover Feast. Jesus died in his place and he was allowed to go free! Imagine his surprise when the Roman prison warden came to tell him, 'You are free to go!' When he was told an unsung hero would die in his place he must have been flabberghasted! Imagine the scene...why would a stranger die in my place? Who is this man?
I wonder if he stayed to watch the crucifixion of his substitute? I wonder if he watched them kill the person that should have been him? Or did he just vanish into the milling crowd?
Who could bear to watch the torture of someone on a cross? Who could stand the torment and the pain? Only Jesus' mother and the beloved disciple John had the guts to stay close to the cross. All the other disciples fled away - even big mouth Peter! ('If all forsake you, I never will!) Big deal! Yet Peter preached on the day of Pentecost and 3000 got saved and baptised! Peter raised Dorcas from the dead! Peter's shadow healed people in the street! Peter sat with the leaders...yet when it counted he wasn't there.
In Charles Dicken's novel, A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Darnay and his friend exchange clothes in a prison and the one dies instead of the other with the following words on his lips as he steps to the scaffolding of the French guillotine: 'It's a far, far better way to go...' so that his friend could be united to the woman he loved. What an amazing climax to a love story!
There is no greater life than a friend giving his life for his friends!
But often that moment comes unexpectedly, unplanned, uncalculated...who is ever ready for such a sacrifice?
But those men and women who died in the great wars of the world, who gave their lives so that we could carry on with life, who died so that we could be free from world domination by insane dictators...all we have for them are some statues, a flame somewhere, 'for the unknown soldier'...
In Christianity there are scores of martyrs, unknown to us, who died so that we could have the Word of God and experience salvation through Jesus Christ. Today coptic Christians in Muslim countries are still being executed for their faith...
Communism in both Russia and China destroyed the lives of multiple thousands of believers and we have no clue who they were. But they are the unsung heroes of our faith!
I have often watched cricket when someone scores a century and I've seen how others honour him as a great batsman, but his partner at the other end who kept on encouraging him, and kept on giving him the bowling, and kept on supporting him is often the unsung hero of the game. Its great to see a teacher go up to the unsung hero and say, 'you did your job well!' to a schoolboy who did his utmost to keep the partnership going.
When will our eyes open to see all the unsung heroes around us? The mother that kept on praying for her son until he turned to Christ; the mother that worked hard to pay the school fees of her daughter; the father who accumulated wealth for his children and grandchildren to enjoy; the old lady in church who gave her car to help with the purchasing of the church property; the boy who gave up his scholarship to obey the call of God in the ministry; the missionary who sold all he possessed to support his family on the mission field...
Have a look around you and see all the unsung heroes in your life and begin to thank them in whatever way possible, for you never know when you might be called upon to become an unsung hero as well!
It's a far, far better way to go...the way of love's ultimate sacrifice. Michael Caine once starred in a War Movie entitled, 'Too Late the Hero', which is also one of my favorite movies. Caine plays the part of a soldier that just wants to survive the jungle war, but in the end he gives his life to save a friend. He played the anti-hero perfectly and eventually became the hero.

Potatoes Sunny Side Up?

And so I was asked: 'What can I get you for breakfast? Boiled Potatoes, sunny side up?'
For a moment I was baffled. My mind raced to try to imagine what this dish looked like. Then i put two and two together and realized breakfast normally included the question about fried eggs, sunny side up? So it had nothing to do with eggs at all, it simply meant, the best we can offer. So I obliged and said, 'ok, let me have it!'I literally got small boiled potatoes for breakfast in my plate. I have never eaten potatoes for breakfast anywhere else except in Kiev, in the Ukraine, where I ate nothing but potatoes for a whole weak until I went with the lady of the house to buy some withered vegetables and a bit of meat in a shanty shop location two hour bus ride away from their community apartment.
But I was in a little village somewhere in Nigeria and in a hotel and the young man was put in charge of training the hotel staff. He was ambitious, energetic and high spirited and put his best foot forward all the time to impress the foreigner, but they did not have everything in place yet, not the right equipment nor the right products for meals. For instance they do not have Coca Cola in the bar. Only Sprite. They only serve from the bottles that are open - otherwise you have to purchase the whole bottle.
They are making great improvements all the time. They are training the staff - and the young man, whose name was Paul, was in charge of all the training, which happened openly. He corrected staff members on the spot and reprimanded them in front of the guests and also met with them every morning after prayer and worship, to give them instructions. He warned the older men not to be offended by his youth but to learn from him. He was giving them a three week window to improve before he would recruit other staff.
He felt obliged to look after me and ordered my meal, then sat with me at the table watching me eat it, all the time asking if I enjoyed it. It felt very uncomfortable being watched with every mouth full. If he had to go and attend to something he would asked to be excused and then rushed back to take up his position where he could watch every movement I made from the plate to my mouth.
When I went for a swim the pool man walked up and down the pool like an Olympic Coach. I felt hard pressed to swim faster with each stroke. Even if I felt like quitting after so many lengths I felt guilty and kept on turning and swimming to the other end.
I gave one of my blues CD's to Paul and to some of the other senior members. When I went to the pool bar they played my CD over the extremely loud sound system that was supported with speakers stacked up to the sky on both sides of the pool. I heard my voice being boomed out to the whole neighborhood. They particularly liked the slow songs such as 'Come sit by me' and 'Memory be kind'. It set quite a drastic contrast to their up tempo African rhythms that was all about dancing and not about melody.
In church I observed how they dance and being a trained actor, simply imitated them to their great delight! Legs bent, buttocks stuck far out, arms dangling in front as if you are playing a bush drum and head forward looking down at your feet, you cut your steps to the left and the right and move forward and backwards shaking the hands at intervals or clapping them once or twice. You let out a yell of excitement now and again, 'Jeyh!' and then throw yourself into interpreting the rhythm in a dance.
I preached in an unfinished church building in Umuahia in Abia State. The pastor received me well and so did the people. When I ministered on the I AM Principle the penny dropped after an hour and a half of preaching and suddenly people lay prostrate on the dirty worn out cement floor and started weeping quietly. You could hear them repeat the gist of my sermon, 'God wants me to be myself!' It was a revelation to them. They had been trying so hard to live up to all the demands of religion that the burden became to heavy to bear. The simply message I brought cleared up all the jet and flotsam of years of religious bondage and they were allowed to go free! There was a long silence after I preached where people just lay on the ground and some wept quietly - very unusual for Nigeria. The pastor eventually took the mike but said, 'I don't know what to say...' He dismissed the people but no one wanted to leave. It was a moment of divine glory and we all wanted to linger a little longer.
They invited me back for their annual conference.
On the Sunday morning a visitor stepped forward and offered to pay for th

the Beatles 50 years later

The Beatles 50 Years Later Newsweek released a special collector’s edition celebrating the 50 years since the Beatles were launched in 1962. In that same amazing year Dylan, The Beach boys and The Rolling Stones also surfaced onto the music scene. But in the words of the late Steve Jobs, who introduced Beatle music to i-Tunes, ‘anyone could imitate The Rolling Stones, but no one could be Dylan or The Beatles.’ What caught my attention in one of the many articles in the special edition was a paragraph about John Lennon’s evaluation of his own guitar playing: ‘I am embarrassed at my guitar technique…but I know how to drive a band.’ When Lennon met McCartney the former could only play banjo chords on the first four strings on his guitar. Lennon and McCartney became the most prolific tune factory the world has ever known. They had 27 hits that lasted 100 weeks on the No. 1 spot on the hit parade. They have sold over 600 million albums and 1.8 million on i-Tunes. They introduced the stadium performance as an event to the crowds and headed the other bands in selling their wares and merchandise in shops all over the world. Their name became an adjective in the modern English language: e.g. Beatle mania. Lennon’s statement about his guitar playing is so painfully honest – just like his music. He was not ashamed to write about his mother or about his helplessness in life. There is a pic of him and Paul sitting at a grand piano, composing a song. Paul is at the bass end and John working out the tune. It is the tunefulness of the Beatle’s songs that remains with us today. Anyone can whistle, sing or play their songs because they have memorable tunes. The spark between Lennon and McCartney produced unforgettable tunes that the world is still singing and playing today. Every time you hear a Beatle song you know it is a Beatle song. It does not matter who is performing it – because you know the tune and the style of the Beatles. They transformed music and began to sing about things street people encounter in life, meter maids, lonely people and paperback writer. Ask anyone today, what is your favourite Beatle song and they will tell you without hesitation. This is 50 years after they were launched! Yes, Lennon and Harrison are no longer with us, but McCartney and Ringo are still around. The media quoted Lennon as saying, ‘we are more important than Jesus Christ!’ but that is not the truth of the matter. He explained later that he was misquoted (typical of the media moguls to seek sensation and misquote a pop star to sell a newspaper!). What he actually said was, ‘the way people treat us you would say that we are more important than Jesus Christ!’ It was not an anti-Christ statement as the media made it out to be. But here is a simple guy with loads of talent from Liverpool, embarrassed about his guitar playing but churning out one after the other memorable tune to fill the world with beautiful music. He was willing to give it a go in spite of his guitar technique. The fab four complemented each other perfectly: John the driving force and tune giver of the group, McCartney adding the chords and rhythm, George letting his guitar gently weep and Ringo providing the simply beat behind the music. When they split up it was no longer the same. The one lacked what the other possessed. The genius of the Beatles lay in the fact that each one contributed something valuable to the group. It was not one superstar doing it all and the other riding on his success. It was a real team effort. There is much we can learn from them. If any group can rely on each other’s strengths, they can achieve much. It is okay that Lennon’s guitar playing was not brilliant, because he was the rhythm guitarist. He left the deft technique of guitar playing to George, the lead guitarist. Steve Jobs observed how they operated in the studio: ‘they kept refining and refining their music; they kept on going and going.’ Their striving for perfection produced unforgettable music. They would not settle for less. There is a lesson in that as well. At the turn of the century they brought out a compilation of their greatest hits and it went straight to No. 1 spot again, starting off a spate of other bands following in their wake with their compilation albums. Somehow they pioneered so many different directions in their burst of creativity that they are the most unforgettable pop band ever. You cannot ignore something that stood the test of time! Here comes the sun…Strawberry Fields Forever…Yesterday…While my guitar gently weeps…The long and winding road…I wanna hold your hand…Let it be…Eleanor Rigby…Get Back…and many more. Which is your favourite tune?

Flowers in Hanoi

Flowers in Hanoi
Something noticeable in Hanoi city is the number of flower sellers and flower boutiques with exotic flowers. Vendors with cone shaped bamboo hats walk around with bamboo sticks over their shoulders carrying flowers on either side of the scales.
When I entered my room in Rising Dragon Hotel my bed was strewn with red rose petals and leaves.
‘It’s for you, the flowers,’ Sinh the receptionist informed me. I wanted give her the usual tip you give a bell-boy but she refused: ‘just enjoy your stay in our hotel,’ she asked.
The Vietnamese do not harass you in the streets; they don’t beg and do not demand that you buy their wares, no tries to sell you any phone cards or medicine. You can go for a walk without being disturbed or aggravated by street urchins.
I stumbled upon a hidden church in an alley one night. I did not understand a word and they did not understand me, but when they lifted their hands in praise I did the same.
Take a walk with me in Hoan Kiem Lake District of Hanoi and you’ll get an idea of how life is lived in that ancient part of the city.
Most café’s have kindergarten plastic chairs and tables, because people are small and used to squatting. Europeans and especially large Americans look uncomfortable on those baby chairs sipping their chosen beverage! They have the odd café where you get really good Arabic coffee, thick and black and very tasty with a strong aroma that you breathe in.
Five middle aged ladies discus some issues around two tables pushed together. At another table a family relaxes and talks. Some young men sip their beers and tea and make passes at the waitress.
On my way to the café I passed a funeral parlour. Wreathes of fake flowers and silk banners cover the caskets. There is a queue outside on the pavement where people line up to order a casket and design the banners. The coffins are piled up inside the gate.
Cremation is the normal way of disposing of the dead. The coffins are obviously removed when the cadaver is cremated. It is just there for the show.
Today the bearers look like a scene from the Boxer revolution: they are dressed in black karate suits with white sashes around their head. White is a sign of mourning in the east – the west just does the opposite.
There are sad faces all around and even some tears.
Life’s activities continue next door to the funeral parlour. There is a nail bar where toe nails are clipped and painted on the pavement, a hairdressing saloon, a woman sitting in front of her little store, with a fluffy white dog on her lap; a laundry service, a liquor store and a dressmaker surround the parlour almost as if to say death is part of life.
Although there are zebra crossings in the streets, no one pays attention to them. Pedestrians have to zig-zag their way through the oncoming traffic comprising mostly of motor bikes and scooters and the odd taxi. It’s risky business crossing a street!
The Vietnamese love tine canary like birds. There are cages hanging in front of most shops. The vendors even walk through the café with a cage or two trying to sell the birds to the customers.
Some alleys become parking lots for motor bikes and scooters. They are neatly parked and there is an official that has to be paid to look after the bikes.
Electric cables hang low over the streets like black spaghetti.
Children are hardly seen during the day. They go to school. At night they come out to play on the sidewalks. The grownups squat on flattened card board boxes and cook their meals on the sidewalks as well. The apartments are too small to house any visitors so the social life is spent on the sidewalk in the warm and sultry evening.
Most people wear jeans and T-shirts. Only vendors wear the traditional garments that hang loose like oversized pyjamas. Businessmen wear suits with open neck white dress shirts. Women pay a lot of attention to their foot wear. They wear neat, colourful shoes, even while driving their scooters. Foreigners wear slops and sandals. Only the poor wear sandals in Hanoi – they cannot afford shoes.
An elderly man with broken teeth and dirty feet in worn out sandals entertains a baby by prancing around and singing childish ditties. They baby and the mother pay little attention to him. Funny how a baby brings out the child in all of us!
Women walk arm-in-arm, three-by-three, talking incessantly about feminine interests.
A little boy picks lice from his father’s hair while the father sips his coffee. You often see women picking lice from each other’s hair as well. It is not uncommon for them to eat the lice as a form of protein.
An old lady that runs a tiny shop limps on bandaged foot and treats customers with rudeness, sometimes waving them away and shouting at them. She has no intent to impress anyone.
Old people stare at you as a foreigner with intense curiosity and when you look back they share a shy toothless smile with you.
Policemen dressed in khaki-green uniforms eye you with suspicion, fruit sellers guard their fruit with patience, bikers wait on street corners looking for a signal for you to ask for a lift and then charge you $5 wherever you want to go.
Xin Choa is hello in Vietnamese. Tam biet is goodbye. Cam un is thank you and xin moi is please.
The buildings are old and dilapidated and there are flags everywhere, the red national flag with the yellow star flaps from balconies and in front of shops wherever you go.
There are Buddhist shrines in every house, every shop, every restaurant and hotel, even in the middle of the rice fields en route to the airport. The signs above shops and buildings are all in Vietnamese, you do not understand a thing.
The music in shops or restaurants is Vietnamese; it is foreign to the Western ear. Even when string orchestras perform they pluck and stroke the strings with a different attack than musicians from abroad.
The main industries are all Japanese or Korean, even the banks are from those two colossal Eastern giants. The Vietnamese Dong is about 200 to the American Dollar.
In restaurants you won’t understand the menu unless they show the pictures of the meals. To purchase anything in shops you have to communicate with hand signals to know how much to pay for an article.
It’s so easy to get totally lost in the maze of streets and alleyways in Hanoi so it is good to keep a card with the hotel name and address handy when you need to wave a biker taxi down.
Tam biet, Vietnam!

He holds my hand

He holds my hand
As I travel all around the world
I know He holds my hand
As I wonder ‘bout things I don’t understand
I know He holds my hand

Chorus: And He never lets go, He never lets go
He never lets go of my hand

As I learn all the lessons in my life
I know He holds my hand
As I cope with success and with strife
I know He holds my hand

Bridge: And when I fear, He is always near
When I call He’s always there
When I cry He dries all my tears
When I pray He always hears

I don’t know just what the future holds
But I know He holds my hand
I know He holds the future in His hands
And I know He holds my hand

Andre Pelser 4th February 2012

Jesus in the window

Jesus in the window
I saw Jesus in the window
I didn’t realise
When I stopped the driver
Was surprised

It was raining in Uganda
Making clay of all the sand
And we struggled to turn the car around
We drove with expectation
Past the jungle vegetation
Till we came to the place
Where I saw

Jesus in the window
As real as posters can be
Jesus in the window
Just staring at me

Take a picture I demanded
As I stood there with arms folded
I knew I’d never get this chance again
I was happy on the inside
So didn’t mind the all the rain
And that picture stayed with me
Wherever I’d go

Buzz Aldrin

Buzz Aldrin (born Edwin Eugene Aldrin, Jr., January 20, 1930) is an American mechanical engineer, retired United States Air Force pilot and astronaut who was the Lunar Module pilot on Apollo 11, the first manned lunar landing in history. On July 20, 1969, he was the second human being to set foot on the Moon, following mission commander Neil Armstrong.

I met Buzz Aldrin when I had to accompany Marli Kelly on the piano at an open air meeting in Johannesburg. He was the guest speaker. His wife and daughter travelled with him. I happened to sit next to Buzz on stage.
I saw his special built up shoes.

‘Why those?’ I enquired.

‘All of us who went to the moon came back different. We are not made to live on the moon. The arches of my feet sunk. I have to wear special built up shoes all the time,’ he explained.

In his testimony he said that he went to the moon an agnostic and returned a Christian!

‘When you see how beautiful God made the earth, you just cannot help but believe there must be a creator!’

It was a great privilege to meet the famous astronaut. To my amazement he was chosen as the cartoon character Buzz Lightyear. Buzz has tremendous insight into so many things and on his websites one can gather incredible knowledge. But the personal knowledge I gleaned from him is probably the most important: Jesus Christ died to save our sins and God raised Him from the dead so that we can live forever!

Science is proving the Bible correct, day by day! Scientists are turning to Christ more and more.The Truth shall prevail.

Well, luckily all of us do not have to take a trip to the moon to find out if the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true or not. The blessed Holy Spirit will convict us of sin, righteousness and judgement. He will make Jesus real to us and convince us of the truth of His sacrifice for our sins. He will provide us with the gift of faith to believe the Gospel message.

For with the heart we believe that God raised Jesus from the dead and this makes us right with God, and with the mouth we confess that Jesus is Lord unto salvation. (Romans 10:8-10)