Emergency Call 5015 E-Book

Jörg Fehr

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Serie: Lieder unseres Lebens
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 425

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

This book talks about some significant experiences during my childhood and how God has formed me for a future life in Africa and as ADRA executive director. It shows the breakout of a typical professional career into volunteer missionary work in Africa. After my permanent return to my homeland, I worked for a large civil engineering company managing multimillion Swiss Francs projects. I started my own planning company before I got called back into denominational work, to be the executive director of an ADRA country office and an ADRA division office. During my career, I traveled intensively in African countries, the Middle East, Afghanistan, and North Korea. I have been a resident in 7 countries (Cameroon, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Zaire, Rwanda, Turkey, and Switzerland) and have traveled to 66 countries. This book explains how I depended on my daily relationship with God. My heavenly father blessed me richly.

Leseprobe

TABLE OF CONTENT

Foreword

List of visited continets and countries

Early years

Getting ready

Justice and faith

First time in Africa

Business live in Switzerland

Decisions

Hospitality

Kedibonye

Follow somebody else

Less is More

The Mall in Gaborone

Eaten up by “Baboons”

My son’s prayer

Stay on the right track

Getting good mileage for your car

1st April 1984

The Christmas Tree

Nicole

Mama Papaya

I will always be with you

Mauritania

North Korea

Paradise South Pacific

Angola

Still more Hospitality

My Grace is sufficient for you

Precious little things

Led by the Spirit

Emergency Call 5015

Speaking with authority

Liberty

Rollercoaster

The Chapter that Nobody will read

FOREWORD

This book talks about some significant experiences during my childhood and how God has formed me for a future life in Africa and as ADRA executive director. It shows the breakout of a typical professional career into volunteer missionary work in Africa. After my permanent return to my homeland, I worked for a large civil engineering company managing multimillion Swiss Francs projects. I started my own planning company before I got called back into denominational work, to be the executive director of an ADRA country office and an ADRA division office. During my career I traveled intensively in African countries, the Middle East, Afghanistan, and North Korea. I have been a resident in 7 countries (Cameroon, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Zaire, Rwanda, Turkey, and Switzerland) and have traveled to 66 countries. This book explains how I depended on my daily relationship with God. My heavenly father blessed me richly.

This book is not a biography. It only reveals some highlights of my life. It shows how God answered my phone calls when I had to make decisions that would put the lives of others or my own life at peril.

I want to show how exciting it is to follow Jesus. Many times, Jesus has shown me that He is in control. He has shown me that I did not have to worry. I want to give glory and honor to God.

First, I would like to thank my heavenly father for all the opportunities He has given me.

I want to thank my wife. God has led me to a young lady that would walk with me the same path. I want to thank my wife for the patience she had with me. I want to thank her for the many hours she spent at home alone while I was traveling. I want to thank her for each encouraging word. I want to thank her for the support she gave me during all the years we spent together.

I want to thank my children for following in Jesus’ footsteps.

I want to thank the Seventh-Day Adventist Church for sending me out as a volunteer and later employing me in various positions. Mainly I would like to thank ADRA, the humanitarian organization of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. It has been great to work for ADRA. I loved to collaborate with my colleagues from all around the world. All my dear ADRA friends have been a great blessing to me.

Thank you.

Schocherswil December 2020

Jörg Fehr

LIST OF VISITED CONTINENTS AND COUNTRIES

AFRICA, ASIA, NORTH AMERICA, SOUTH AMERICA, EUROPE, OCEANIA

Afghanistan, Algeria, Andorra, Angola, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Bangladesh, Belgium, Botswana, Brazil, Bulgaria, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Canada, China, Cook Island, Costa Rica, Denmark, Germany, Ivory Coast, France, Great Brittan, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Hungary, Iran, Italy, Canada, Congo (Zaïre), Czech Republic, Lesotho, Lebanon, Liberia, Lichtenstein, Luxembourg, Malaysia, Morocco, Mauritania, Mexico, Monaco, Mozambique, Namibia, New Zealand, Netherlands, Nigeria, Niger, Norway, North Korea, Portugal, Rwanda, Romania, Russia, São Tomé and Principe, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, South Africa, Sweden, Switzerland, Thailand, Tunisia, Turkey, United States of America, United Arabian Emirates, Zambia, Zimbabwe.

Arizona, California, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Louisiana, Maryland, Michigan, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Dakota, Oregon, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, Washington, Washington DC, Wyoming.

Bavaria, Lower Saxony, Baden-Württemberg, North Rhine-Westphalia, Brandenburg, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Hessen, Saxony-Anhalt, Rhineland-Palatinate, Saxony, Thuringia, Schleswig-Holstein, Saarland, Berlin, Hamburg.

Zurich, Bern, Lucerne, Uri, Schwyz, Obwalden, Nidwalden, Glarus, Zug, Fribourg. Solothurn, Basel-City, Basel-Country, Schaffhausen, Appenzell-Ausserhoden, Appenzell-Innerhoden, St. Gallen, Graubünden, Aargau, Thurgau, Ticino, Vaud, Valais, Neuchâtel, Geneva, Jura.

EARLY YEARS

It was 1950. In a large part of Europe, the results of World War II could still be seen. Switzerland, as a neutral state, was able to stay out of the war. Oskar and Emmi Fehr, a young couple married during the war, had just built their own home in a little town called Erlen. The village with a couple of hundred inhabitants had its name from the Alder (Alder in German means Erlen) trees that grow abundantly along the small creek in that area. Erlen was an agglomeration of three small villages. The center was called Erlen and was close to the little stream and the protestant church. Eppishausen in the east hosted a small castle. Estegen in the north, which was across a larger creek, the Aach. The railway line crossed Estegen. Therefore, Estegen had a railway station. Thanks to that railway station Erlen developed into one town, combining the three villages, and attracted even some industries.

The modest Fehr's home was located at the town's edge about 50 meters from the small creek, facing agricultural land. The main view from the house towards the south opened to lush meadows and forests. The main road, linking nearby Lake Constance with Zurich, the commercial city and largest agglomeration of Switzerland, passed on the home's north side. During those years, automobiles were rather seldom. I remember, as children, we used to play on the road.

My father, Oskar Fehr, was born in January 1921 and grew up in Eppishausen, about 50 meters from the small castle. He was raised in a family with eight children. He was a native of Erlen. I can imagine that it was not easy for him, being the boy who was in the middle, having two older sisters and two older brothers on one side, and two younger sisters and one younger brother on the other hand. Taking care of a family during the depression years was indeed a struggle.

Nevertheless, his father being the postman of that town, was a well-respected man. My father did not talk much about his father. I never knew my grandfather. He must have been quite a few years older than my grandmother. My father did not speak much about his ancestors. The only thing he ever mentioned was when he could accompany his father to a music festival in a nearby town. Only a few years before he died, he said that his father hosted in his home a small group of Jehovah's Witnesses for worship. Fortunately, the family was able to send their children to high school after they completed six classes of Elementary School. My father loved to work with wood. He wanted to become a cabinet maker, but since two of his uncles were in the construction business, it was a given fact that Oskar would become a bricklayer, learning in his uncle's company.

Emmi Nüssli, my mother, was born in the nearby town of Amriswil, as the oldest child to a young mother married at age eighteen. Her father tried to earn a living by doing odd jobs on construction sites. The young couple lived in the house of their parents. My great grandfather was repairing shoes in his workshop in the basement of the home. My grandmother tried to contribute to the household by doing several cleaning jobs for wealthy families. Within a few years, the family grew. Seven other children followed. My mother, together with her oldest brother, took care of the children that followed, besides going to school. When my mother was at the age of eight, her mother asked her to assist while she was giving birth to a child. In those days, it was practice giving birth to children at home. The midwife of the town was on standby for such cases. It was only after the child was born that the midwife discovered another child was following. Until her old age, my mother was telling the story about this second child, which came unexpectedly. She remembered that the midwife wrapped the dead baby girl into a rag and put it onto the couch. This experience traumatized her. She often spoke about this, especially at birthday celebrations.

The family could not afford to send their children to high school. After going through eight years of elementary school, my mother was not allowed to learn a profession. She would have loved to become a midwife. In the meantime, her father had an accident. He slipped on a banana peeling, which was lying on the road. The skull fracture was so severe that he died the following night.

For this reason, after having completed the mandatory years of elementary school, my mother was sent to work in a textile factory to earn money and help support the family. Her only recreation time and social life with other people was in the gymnastics club. Gymnastic clubs and music clubs played an important role during those years. It gave the people a chance to mingle with others.

It was in the gymnastics club where my mother met Hanni, Oskar Fehr's younger sister. One weekend, my mother was invited by somebody from her town to accompany them on a hiking tour at mount Säntis. Maybe these people felt sorry and wanted to give the young lady a chance to go out a little bit and see some of the nearby mountain scenery. Säntis is the highest peak in northeastern Switzerland. It can be seen from far and every year attracts thousands of tourists to climb the rocks or to take a ride to the top by cable car.

It was on that very same day when some of the Fehr's family from Eppishausen also went on a hiking tour at mount Säntis. Hanni and Emmi knew each other and were surprised to find themselves doing the hiking tour at the same time. That was when Oskar started looking at Emmi, and Emmi began to be looking at Oskar. Obviously, they were delighted with what they saw and started dating each other. In 1944, still during World War II, they got married. One year later, their first child Erika was born. My father often talked about the first rented apartment in Riedt. Riedt is located 1 kilometer west of Erlen and is the town where my father's uncle had his construction business. During wintertime, there used to be ice on the walls in the bedroom. My father often said that with his finger, he was able to write his name on the ice in the bedroom. The way to the restroom led through another family's kitchen. In 1949 Oskar and Emmi started building their own home in the neighboring town of Erlen. Their only start capital for the new house was a few Swiss francs, just enough to pay for the water connection to the new plot. My father, who was an incredibly talented craftsman, and a trained bricklayer, did much of the construction work himself. Often, he worked on his new home almost the whole night to get it ready, ready for what? It was also during that time when some of the Fehr's family, mother Hulda Fehr, son Walter, and Oskar, got to know the Adventist message through Pastor Gustav Tobler senior. In fall 1950, the new home was ready to move in. It was about time because my mother was expecting to give birth to the second child at the end of the year. After a white Christmas, on Wednesday 27th December 1950, a 4 kg boy was born in the bedroom of the new home. Records about the weather during that winter show that there was lots of snow and temperatures way below freezing.

Little boy Jörg was blessed because he was born into a family that was still very warm about the Adventist gospel message. The young Seventh-Day Adventist congregation started to meet in the upper room of the Fehr's home. Sabbath afternoon excursions into the nearby forests with a picnic and Christmas celebration as a church used to be the climax' of the year. Sabbath opening family worship on Friday evenings seemed to please the little boy. Sometimes he was leading out, pretending to be the pastor, announcing the songs, and kneeling for prayer the same way as my father used to do.

I was that boy, and I have some memories of my early childhood. Some people try to tell me that my memory is only from other people, telling me the stories. Others say that I was like a small boy until late. While I am sitting, writing these lines, I still can see the pictures passing in my head. One day, it was Sabbath afternoon just after lunch, I lay on the wooden bench in our kitchen, drinking milk from the bottle. The bottle, still more than half full, slipped out of my hands, rolling down the other aisle of the bench. It came closer and closer to the edge until it dropped to the floor, where it broke into pieces. All the delicious milk spread across the floor. My mother panicked because she did not know how her little boy would now drink his milk. I can still hear my father say: "He is old enough to drink from a cup!" From that time on, I drank from a cup, and this is what I am still doing today.

My mother often went to Amriswil, the town where she was raised. One day she went to visit her grandmother and grandfather. I was sitting in a small seat at the back of the old bicycle. Just outside of Erlen, construction workers were putting a new layer of hot tar and gravel on the road. One of the workers was signaling my mam that she could pass, but the freshly paved ground was still soft. The old tires of the bicycle lost their grip. Mother and I fell into the hot tar scratching the skin on the gravel. Can you imagine how hot asphalt on a soft, delicate children's skin feels like it? Worst of all, my mother's newly purchased summer dress did not look so lovely as before. It was ruined. I still see myself sitting on the kitchen sink at home, scratching tar from my skin. Nevertheless, we went to Amriswil by train later that afternoon. I had a great story to tell my great-grandmother.

It was on a stormy and rainy day when my mother had to go and do some errands in town. A small school path linked the upper part of Erlen with the lower part of Erlen, which in the early days was called Estegen. Because the schoolhouse was located only 100 meters from our home, the small path started just across the street from our house. Usually, I had to wear a raincoat. I hated wearing an overcoat. Little children were wearing parkas. I felt that I had grown out of that age. My mother had an umbrella. All the adults used to have umbrellas. My older sister also had a small umbrella for children, and I felt it was about time that I stopped wearing a raincoat. It must have taken me some time to convince my mother that I was ready for an umbrella.

Finally, she gave in and allowed me to use my sister's umbrella. Before we left home, my mother instructed me to hold firm because it was very windy outside. After she had my ok, we stepped out the door, crossed the road, and passed the neighbor's house. Passing by the neighbor's yard was still no problem because a hedge protected us from the wind gusts. But then, when we stepped out into the open space, the wind hit us full power. My mother was struggling with her umbrella. I saw that her umbrella took on another form. The edge of it was turned upward. The same happened to my umbrella. Since I promised to hold on and not let it go, I held firm to my umbrella. When another wind gust caught us, I lay down in the grass, still holding on to my umbrella. After all, I had to be faithful to my promise. In the meantime, my situation became precarious, and I started crying with a loud voice. My mother came to help me, grabbed my umbrella while she was still struggling with hers, and told me to let go. What does a little boy do, who had promised a few minutes earlier to hold firm? The whole reputation as a "grown-up man" would have been ruined if he would have let go.

What followed, I do not remember so well. I guess the wind must have become weaker. I was able to get up, and my mother and I made our way to the shop and home again, and I proved to the world and myself that I was worthy of having an umbrella on my own. It would still take years until I would have my umbrella.

During those years, my father purchased a scooter. From then on, my father, mother, and my five years older sister Erika went on a trip on nice sunny Sundays. I had to go to my great-grandmother and aunty Annemarie and Uncle Hans, my mother's brother, who was one year younger than my mother. As a protest, soon after my parents and my sister had left, I had my pants full, and aunty Annemarie had to clean me up. You should never "dump" a young boy just like this.

Father and Mother Fehr-Messmer at their Home in Eppishausen with one child

Oskar and his tame crow

Father and Mother Nüssli-Hausamann

Emmi (second from left) with friends.

Emmi and Oskar

Oskar’s and Emmi’s new home in Erlen

Emmi with Jörg

Jörg

GETTING READY

Years passed by. Five years after my birth, my sister Margot was born. Early morning my father came to wake up my older sister Erika and me, telling us that the baby had arrived. We run down the stairs to our parents' bedroom. My mother lay pale in her bed. The midwife gave her something to drink in a cup. I went straight to the cradle and started rocking the baby but was stopped immediately. My father explained to me that she was still tiny and that we had to be careful with her.

At the age of six, I was sent to elementary (primary) school. The first two years, my class was split into two groups. A group of eight boys was assigned to an elderly lady teacher who, in addition to the eight boys, had a full class of third graders. The rest of the class went to a young teacher Missis Gubler. In my eyes, the teacher was very old. There was some negative reputation going around among the pupils and the parents about Missis Gubler. I was fortunate to be part of the small group which had the privilege to go to the elderly lady Miss Hanselmann who was popular. For grades one and two, I was safe in Miss Hanselmann’s classroom.

When I was six years old, the construction company purchased a small car. The Citroën 2CV ("Deux Chevaux" which means "two horsepower") became my father's business car. In the meantime, he had become a foreman and was supervising several construction sites. He could use the car also for private trips. It became our family car. Fehr's started traveling as a family. First to nearby places, but then the trips became longer. I must add that almost on each trip; I became carsick.

But I enjoyed traveling. Some of the planned destinations would be in neighboring countries like Austria and Germany. To cross the border, we needed identity papers. Each one in our family had to get an ID card except my little sister, whose name would be written into her mother's card. To get the ID card we had to go to the town office. One day at lunch, my father and my mother told Erika and me to go to the office. The major of the town and his wife, who was his secretary, had been informed by phone. Father and mother would go later in the afternoon because my father had to work. He would knock off from work a little bit earlier. Some days before, papa, mama, and Erika went to a photographer's shop and had a passport picture made. For me, Papa found a recent picture among the family pictures and cut it to the size of a passport picture. Passport pictures were costly in those days.

After lunch, Erika and I went to the town office. The office was in the major's house. Erika rang the bell, and after a few moments, the door opened. The secretary opened the door and led in. When I saw all the files on the shelves, I was impressed. There was even a phone on the mayor's desk. Our phone at home hung on the wall in the corridor. The secretary took out a folder and checked our names. Out of a box, she took a blue card and put it into a special typewriter. I knew what an ordinary typewriter looked like because my father had one at home. She typed Erika's name on the blue card. Then she got up, and Erika had to stand against a wall where she measured how tall she was. She also looked at the color of her eyes — this information she then typed into the card. When everything was finished, she took out the card, checked if everything was ok, laid it on the desk, gave Erika a pen, and asked her to sign.

There was a particular line for "signature." Erika took the pen and signed the card. The secretary then stamped the card in a way that half of the stamp was over the picture. In the end, she handed the card to the major, who also had to put on his signature. Now it was my turn. The secretary looked at my eyes, measured how tall I was, and wrote everything into the card. Then she handed it to me, gave me a pen, and asked me to sign. I was embarrassed but did not show it. As six years old first grader, I was able to write my name in block letters, but I did not yet have a signature. The secretary tried to persuade me that I should just write my name on the line. She even handed me a piece of paper to try out first. I did not want, because I had no "signature." The major came, gave me his pen, then kindly took my hand, and guided my hand on a piece of paper. He wrote my name, but it was his handwriting. He told me that I should try.

I only had "signature" in my mind and was embarrassed that I did not have a signature. My sister Erika talked to me. The secretary kindly spoke to me. The mayor talked to me very kindly, but I did not put my signature on the ID card. Finally, they had to call my mother by phone, who after a few minutes arrived, because the town office was only about six hundred meters from our house. First, she spoke to me kindly. But after a while, she talked to me more firmly. Finally, I realized that I had no other choice but to write my name in block letters on the document. It had taken a whole afternoon.

For traveling, my father had all the ID cards in his wallet, and every time we crossed the border, he had to show them to the officer. That card was valid for five years, and every time I looked at it, I felt embarrassed. It did not have a real signature.

Towards the end of the first school year and at the beginning of the second year, I developed some health problems. There was not a concrete diagnose, but the doctor felt that it would be good for me to go for a cure to the mountainous area of Davos. That area is famous for its sunny days and its dry, healthy air. So, it was on a winter Sunday when my parents drove me to a children's home in Serneus. I did not like the thought of being away from home for weeks without any visits from my parents. The only thing that impressed me was the deep snow that reached the top of the fences in the field. Often, I was homesick but did not dare to say anything. In those days, children just accepted without questioning or complaining about what adults decided. There was no way to argue anything. After three months, I must have been strong enough to be taken home and to step into school again. After missing school for three months, I continued in second grade. The small group of eight boys had grown into a group of twelve boys. I still see the benefit of having classes split and being together with another school class of another grade. I was always listening with one ear to the topics that have been taught to the other level. Then it happened that for grades 3 and 4, our whole class was put together into one large group of about thirty-five pupils under Missis Gubler. In boy's eyes, Missis Gubler favored girls. I was one of those boys that were not on the same wavelength as Missis Gubler. However, years later, she confessed to my parents that I was her favorite pupil. How come? I never had that impression. I still do not have it. I did not like school during those years. The same thing I have heard many years later from one of my classmates. He told me that he was terribly stressed while attending school at Missis Gubler's classroom. However, there was something that I should have appreciated. I only realized that many years later. Missis Gubler was a Christian believer. Regularly she told Bible stories in school, and we always started the day with a prayer.

There were topics which I liked most. They were drawings and geography. Grade five and six, the class went to Mister Maurer, a stern teacher who often used a stick made from beech wood. Again, drawings and geography were my favorite topics. One day I even had to correct our teacher about a geography issue. He confused the principality of Monaco with the one of San Marino. Often at home, I spent time looking at maps, maps of Switzerland, maps of Europe, and maps of different parts of the world. I must have had, maybe I still have it, a photographic mind. So even as a timid child, I just had to tell the teacher that Monaco was enclaved by France at the Mediterranean Sea near the border to Italy.

Sixth grade meant getting ready for high school. To get into high school, one had to pass a test — one full day of tests in writing and one-day oral tests. I was relieved when I heard that I had passed. During the three years' time when I was in high school, my father founded his own construction company. I must say that as a boy, I had always enjoyed playing in the sandbox doing my own "construction work." Now during free afternoons in school and during vacation time, I used to go to one of my father's construction sites. Driving dumpers and tower cranes were the best excitement I could get. I liked driving the tower crane. It was not one of those huge ones we can see these days. It was twelve meters high and had a jig of sixteen meters. Somehow, I kind of felt the responsibility but did not really grasp it to its full extent. Often the workers said that I was posing the loads better than the regular operator. Today such a thing would not be allowed. It would probably be considered child labor. Earning some pocket money was one thing, but what I had learned was enormous. I still feel that construction work is the most rewarding work one could ever do. In the evening, you look back, and you can see what you have done the whole day. Getting that sense of success every evening is most rewarding. It was only many years later when I learned about this critical feeling of having success in a course.

When my years in public school came to an end, I did not have to think twice about what kind of profession I would choose after my years in school. Maybe I am the wrong person to say this, but Switzerland has the best system of professional education. Doing an apprenticeship after nine years of school is good. Depending on the profession you choose, the duration of an apprenticeship is from two to four years. I decided to do an apprenticeship as a bricklayer in my father's company. It meant one day per week in the schoolroom and four days per week on the construction site. The vacation time and all the school free afternoons I had spent on construction work before gave me much advantage during my apprenticeship. A lot of experience I had already. In the third year of my apprenticeship, my father gave me the responsibility of a foreman. I had to lead out on a construction site. At that time, I was not aware of how much experience I gained while leading a team of six to eight construction workers. Most of them came from Italy; some came from Spain. It also meant getting acquainted with other cultures and learning other languages. What did David write in Psalm 139: 13, "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." At the end of three years' apprenticeship and having passed my exams with success, I already earned big money at the age of nineteen.

Jörg’s first day going to school.

Jörg during his apprenticeship as bricklayer

Fehr’s new tipper truck

YOU HAVE FORSAKEN THE LOVE YOU HAD FIRST

You may notice that I did not write in detail about what happened during all these years. This book is not a biography of Jörg's life.

Materialistically I was doing very well, and my father was expecting that one day I would take over his construction business. Unfortunately, I had to realize that my parents were not always good examples, and I did not learn to set the right priorities. Sabbath was not always the day of rest and worship as God had intended it to be for us human beings. Basic training in the Swiss army did not do much good to me either. Except for learning how to drive heavy construction machines and how to deliver first aid to wounded people, I did not learn much useful. After seventeen weeks of army service, I went back to my father's company doing construction work. However, during my childhood and my teenage years, there was something that attracted me very much.

Summer youth camps in the exotic canton of Tessin in the southern part of Switzerland have been "The" highlight of the year during my childhood. Going on a vacation to Tessin was a privilege which not each Swiss citizen was able to afford. The canton of Tessin or Ticino, as it is called in the original Italian language, has a kind of Mediterranean flair. Palm trees and bamboo bushes grow in this area. Early morning, waking up in a tent, hearing the special sound of the "Ticino's" church bells made the vacation feeling perfect. Crossing the Swiss Alps by train through the spiral tunnels and the main tunnel of St. Gotthard was excitement pure. Three times, in 1959, 1960, and 1964 my parents were able to afford it and let me go to summer camp. I enjoyed the companionship of other Adventist youth. The spiritual atmosphere helped me to spiritually mature and find out about the true meaning of life.

Later, when I earned my own money, I went to skiing camps in the Swiss mountains. The time of skiing camp was from 24 December until 2 January, a time when there was no activity on construction sites. I enjoyed the spiritual atmosphere of such a camp. Did in my subconscious memory experiences from my early childhood come back? Did the Holy Spirit tap those sources? On my way home from the skiing camp, I was already dreaming about next year's camp. I started to live just from one camp to another, always a year of life and hard work in between. The perspective that in 345 days, there would be another camp kept me going.

It was in one of those winter skiing camps in the Swiss Alps in a small town called "Sedrun." The snow was exactly right. The scenery was beautiful. There was plenty of sunshine. The food was right. The evening programs were good. I was not one of those who spoke up all the time. I had never been a pathfinder. My father did not approve that I would become a pathfinder because he was against uniforms. Even a pathfinder uniform was too much for him. Therefore, I was not integrated into those groups of youth who knew each other already from pathfinder's groups. There were groups of youth from Bern, Zurich, Lucerne, Winterthur, St. Gallen, Aarau, Basel, etc. The group from Basel was the most homogeneous. Because I never went to the pathfinder's club, I did not know any of these people. I had no friends. Being not the outgoing type of person did not help me either. I was a shy country boy. Nevertheless, my skiing skills left some impression on others and made it easier for me to get into some of the groups. Skiing was my favorite sport. Since I was earning good money, I was able to afford the first most modern model of hard-shell skiing boots, the red "Fiber Jet."

It was during the skiing camp in December 1970 when our conference youth director advertised for the Adventist Volunteer Service. He even came to me personally and made me aware that the mission in Cameroon was looking for a builder. Whoop, never would I have thought that this would be something for me. As a small boy, I was eagerly watching the slide shows of missionaries on furlough and listened to the stories they had to talk about their work in Africa. But for me, missionary work was for pastors, doctors, and nurses. Suddenly, a new perspective was opening for me. After the evening program, I was going to the youth director, telling him that I would be interested in serving the church for one year as a volunteer. It reminds me of the bible story we find in John 11. Jesus was deeply moved and even wept when he saw the misery of the people. But he did not do the whole miracle himself. He wanted to include people. Jesus wept because his friend Lazarus had died. Then he told the people, "take away the stone." Only when He convinced the people to have faith, he performed a miracle. Was the Holy Spirit telling me to take away the stone? Was the Holy Spirit tapping what God had planted in my heart?

Jörg’s remote controlled glider

JUSTICE AND FAITH

There was something in me, which is in each person. Something that is hard to explain. Something that God has planted in each human being. Satan tries to suppress this "something."

Many people claim to be atheists and believe in evolution. But their way of behaving demonstrates something else. Many of these people are "humanists" and "pacifists." They do not believe in God but do a lot for deprived people. They engage in humanitarian work. What they do is the opposite of what they believe. If they honestly believe in evolution, which means the strong survive, why do they bring big personal sacrifices to help poor and weak people? Should they not be glad if the weak are "eliminated"? Would it not give them more space and resources for their own survival?

God created this planet, earth, and every living creature which is on it. And when God created man and woman to His image, He had also put His divine law into their hearts. God's law was written in the hearts of human beings. It was only after Adam and Eve had sinned, and when they had to leave the garden of Eden, that evil dominated everything more and more. Satan was suppressing the divine law, which was in the hearts of human beings. It was many years after creation and more than four hundred years of Egyptian captivity when God had to make known His divine law to the people of Israel in written form. That is when God wrote the law on tablets of stone and gave it to Moses.

We can look up God's law in the bible. We find it in the book of "Exodus" chapter 20. In verses 8 – 10, we find that God wanted social justice for everybody. These verses say:" 8 Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. 9 Six days you shall labor and do all your work, 10 but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it, you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns." God wanted justice for everybody. For the boss, the worker, for the animals, and the guest.

Everybody should have the opportunity to have a day of rest once a week. Even nature should have some rest every seventh year. Exodus 23: 10, 11. "10 For six years you are to sow your fields and harvest the crops, 11 but during the seventh year let the land lie unplowed and unused. Then the poor among your people may get food from it, and the wild animals may eat what is left. Do the same with your vineyard and your olive grove." God is against the exploitation of nature. God wants that everybody is well and may enjoy life to its full. Let us look up Leviticus 25: 11 – 13, "11 The fiftieth year shall be a jubilee for you; do not sow and do not reap what grows of itself or harvest the untended vines. 12 For it is a jubilee and is to be holy for you; eat only what is taken directly from the fields. 13 In this Year of Jubilee, everyone is to return to their property."

Would this not be wonderful if a government on this planet earth would still practice the year of jubilee? I know I would have no chance to promote such a practice in my home country. I would never be able to get enough people to sign a referendum in favor of such a law.

So, what can I do as a Christian citizen in my country? Me as a Seventh-Day Adventist believer who attends church every Sabbath? What does God's prophet say in the book of Isaiah 1: 13 – 17, (Message Bible)? "13 Stop bringing meaningless offerings! Your incense is detestable to me. New Moons, Sabbaths, and convocations— I cannot bear your worthless assemblies. 14 Your New Moon feasts and your appointed festivals I hate with all my being. They have become a burden to me; I am weary of bearing them. 15 When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you; even when you offer many prayers, I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! 16 Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. 17 Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow."

How should I apply these verses to my context? Have our church services become a routine? What about our discussions around which is the correct songbook? Does the new church hymnal come from the devil? Have our prayers become a routine?

God did talk to religious people. To church communities who organized many meetings and campaigns. He spoke to people who had a full agenda with useful activities. To church members who actively took part in many committees. But God made it clear to the people of Israel that He was angry. Out of scripture, we do not get the tune of His voice. Was He sad? Was He Angry? We do not know. Both could be the case.

In verse 17, He draws their/our attention to the essential things of the Christian life. "Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow".

In Isaiah, God speaks about true fasting. Isiah 58: 4-7, "Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all your workers. 4 Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife, and in striking each other with wicked fists. You cannot fast as you do today and expect your voice to be heard on high. 5 Is this the kind of fast I have chosen, only a day for people to humble themselves? Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed and for lying in sackcloth and ashes? Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? 6 "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loosen the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?" Here scripture is addressing a central theme. Something fundamental. Something which reflects the character of God. This is true worship.

After these verses follow a promise, Isaiah 58: 8 – 11, 8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard. 9 Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I. "If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, 10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. 11 The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."

It would only be many years later when I began to grasp the meaning of these passages in scripture.

To know the truth as we find it in the bible is not enough. To understand and interpret prophecy is not enough. Knowing all the bible stories and all the names of the bible characters are something good, but it is not adequate. Often, we linger with theory. First, we want to know everything well. We are afraid that we do not know enough. To know the truth is good. To know the truth is a great privilege. But it is not enough to demonstrate the character of God. We must venture out into practice.

For this reason, I find professional vocational training as it is practiced in Switzerland the best in the world. I started my professional career that way. Going to school one day and having four days per week of practical training on the job was most helpful.

The people, as described in Isaiah, were passionate. The doctrine was essential to them. But they did not set it into practice. I can imagine that they had long intellectual discussions. The theme in the Sabbath school lesson during the 3rd quarter of 2016 was excellent. I remember many discussions and resolutions in our ADRA committees at the world level. Often it was mentioned to give input for the themes of the Sabbath school lessons.

Then in 2016, I was so pleased to find that some ideas have been reflected in the Sabbath school lesson. I was so happy to see these themes being discussed in Sabbath school groups. But often, I was also disappointed when I found out that one could address this theme in theory. If we apply what we read in Isaiah 58: 11, we will be blessed. Not only those that receive our help, no but those that actively engage in humanitarian work will also be blessed enormously.

The following chapters will talk about some of the severe and cheerful experiences I had while working in God's vineyard.

Jörg as foreman in his father’s company

FIRST TIME IN AFRICA

It was the 3rd of June 1971 when I was flying for the first time in my life. I was sitting in a "Convair 990, Coronado", a Swissair flight from Zurich via Geneva to Douala, Cameroon. It was excitement pure. Flying across the Alps, the Mediterranean Sea, and the famous Sahara Desert by daytime is still a thrilling experience. The destination was Nanga Eboko, a town in the rain forest of the southern part of Cameroon. I was going to build new classrooms for the Adventist Seminary.

Douala was the first destination. When I got off the aircraft in Douala at nine o'clock in the evening, the hot, humid African air fully hit me. Just by walking down the stairs, my clothes became soaking wet. How was I going to deal with the tropical heat during a full year? Being a Swiss construction worker, I was somewhat used to work in a cold climate. Pastor Cupertino was expecting me at the entrance door to the terminal. We had never met before, and I do not know how he recognized me as the new volunteer from Switzerland. Maybe it was the small Swiss flag which I had attached to my hand luggage. Pastor Cupertino did all the arrival formalities for me in the overcrowded transit area, and about one hour later, I was boarding another plane for my onward flight to Yaoundé, the capital city of Cameroon. The trip to Yaoundé was rather short. It took about one hour. All the passengers were glad when the plane gained some altitude because it was only then when some cold fresh air came out of the ventilation system. While walking across the tarmac in Yaoundé, I saw people standing on the balcony of the terminal building. Was there somebody waiting for me? With my limited school French, I would have been lost in this strange country. I rose my arm and waved. The answer came back from the balcony immediately. About twelve people were waving back at me. Since I came from a domestic flight, the arrival procedure was short.

Pastor Ludescher, the union president of the Equatorial African Union, and a whole delegation of people gave me a warm welcome. The expression "warm welcome" has here a double meaning. Warm in the real sense of the word because of the tropical climate. Warm because I could feel that all these missionaries were happy to see somebody coming from Switzerland who was going to join them. The weather in Yaoundé was not so hot and humid as it was in Douala. Douala, which is located at the foot of Mount Cameroon, is the most humid place in Africa. At the foot of Mount Cameroon, there are eleven meters of rainfall per year. It is ranking as the third place in the whole world regarding humidity.

On the way to the mission guest room, I was told that my destination had changed from Nanga Eboko to Koza. An emergency had occurred in the northern part of Cameroon, where the new maternity ward of "Koza Adventist Hospital" was under construction. A tropical storm had blown off the new roof, and my professional skills were needed. I got some sleep that first night in Africa because I was tired. Early in the morning, hundreds of roosters were welcoming a new day. Never would I have expected so many roosters in a capital city. I was in Africa. After a good breakfast with good guava jam, bananas with peanut butter, and other good food, I was taken to the union office to get some cash and mail that had to be hand-carried to Koza Hospital. Claude Masson and Heidi Walder were taking me to the airport and helped me with all the formalities.

While waiting in the departure hall, I went to the window of the terminal and took a picture of the old DC4 that was going to carry me to Maroua. Barely finished taking a photograph, I felt a hand in my neck. A policeman arrested me. At Zürich airport, I had taken many pictures. Everybody took pictures at the airport. Here in Cameroon, it was strictly forbidden. An important detail that I did not know. The airport was considered a military facility. The policeman took me to the airport police office. Claude Masson had seen what was going on and led the discussion on my behalf. Finally, I had to take out the film and hand it to the police officer. There went all the precious pictures I had taken during the flight across the Sahara Desert. But now I faced another problem. My encounter with the police had taken time, and my flight to Maroua was already on its way for takeoff. Fortunately, this Friday, there was a second flight on this route because a company of soldiers had to be flown to Maroua and Heidi Walder and Claude Masson managed to get me on that flight. Experiences of my first year in Africa would fill a separate book. Instead of one year in Cameroon, I stayed for sixteen months. I had been stationed in Koza for two months, four months in Nanga Eboko, seven months in Koza again,