Not Ashamed…

July 28th, 2008

Before I get started, I am warning you, this is going to be long.  I am confident that it is impossible to express to you all that God has done in the past few weeks, and in every way I am overwhelmed to be called His child.  Yet, for the sake of His glory, and because it causes me to love God all the more, I will try.

I am sure throughout this writing I will interweave a number of different verses that display how awesome God is, but I want to share with you one verse that has proven very real to me on this trip. I memorized it a number of years ago, and I have always believed it, but I must confess that I have never seen it more applicable, or more real in my life than it has been to me on this trip. It is found in Romans 1:16. It says: “I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile.” I hope that after reading this, you will see just how true His word really is.

I want to start you in Italy 2006. Just a few years ago, Mac led a small team of us to Torino Italy where one of our bands throughout the weeks played during the Olympics. Similar to our approach now, we played rock n roll in the steets, had intentional conversations with bystanders, and pointed them to a local church where we would have more concerts the following day. Our hopes were that they would find Jesus and grow in His love. The fruit of that trip has been evident in many different ways. Those who were sent grew in their faith, our supporters grew in their faith, our sister church in Italy was encouraged by our service, and even our very own Rock Churches were effected by God’s contagious Spirit in us. However, I did not realize the impact of that trip until the 15^th of July just thirteen days ago.

During that first trip to Torino Italy, our team was introduced to a young man named Paul pronounced (POW OOL).  Picture a 14 year old kid who had struggles that most could never imagine, trying to find his place in a world that had only shown him heart ache, while attending a church that told him of a loving God; Young, angry, indifferent; yet for some reason he rode his bike to and from our meetings everyday. Collectively, we called him “Snoop Dogg” as he confessed to loving rap music, and every time we called him by this name, he smiled. 

Frank Apisa, one of the Pastor’s of the church, told us that Paul had a very difficult life, and had not yet placed his trust in Jesus….it was understandable in many ways. How do you tell a person who blames God for their hurt, that it is only God who can remove it anyway? Frank said: “He will know Christ’s love in our love for Paul, and for each other.” Love him we did. Every restaurant we bought his meal, every “outing” he attended, and in every meeting we prayed for him. Personally, I had the privilege of sharing the gospel with him the day before we left. It was heartbreaking as he decided to wait until another time. The day after our team returned home, I received a message that Paul prayed to receive Jesus Christ as his savior. I was sent a picture and all who saw it rejoiced at the visible presence of God’s spirit in His eyes. I was overwhelmed at what had happened. Yet, after that, I never heard from Paul again. In the back of my mind was the faithless thought that the world had won, that Paul had decided not to fight, and that somehow the seed did not fall on fertile ground.

Fast-forward two years to July 15, 2008. Jet lagged, excited, and ready to rock for Jesus, this new group of missionaries is preparing to start the day off right with a healthy dose of prayer and worship. Just as we are about to begin, as if he did not miss a beat, down walks Paul. Carrying the same bike from two years before, he walked over to me, hugged me, and in perfect English said “hello.” Instantly, I saw God. I saw His love, His mercy, His might, His compassion, His insight to every human heart, His understanding in every weakness, and in His power to overcome every heart break.

The entire week Paul did not leave our side. He sat on the steps while our “Gypsy Bands” played to the crowds, he prayed with us in our meetings, and he translated our very broken Italian to avoid the nightmare of overwhelming shop owners. Paul knew that merely ordering a “calzone” was an experience to say the least, and he graciously helped us properly say “farmaggio”….cheese.

When the time had come to say goodbye once again to my friend Paul, I found myself overcome with emotion. I have to say that I could not hold back my tears as Paul told me that his intentions were to follow our Lord Jesus Christ for the rest of his life. I was in complete awe of God. Romans 1:16 did indeed come alive before my very eyes; “I am not ashamed of the Gospel, because it is THE POWER OF GOD for the SALVATION of EVERYONE who believes….” It was, it is the power of God for Paul who believes.  

I want to touch on just one more experience from Italy that I just can’t shake. Granted, I could talk about how the Lord kept us desperate and all at once faith filled in every situation. From waiting to have power to perform our first concerts and having the power company show up seconds after we prayed, to the beautiful picture of seeing 30 of our Utah saints give a message of hope to complete strangers while a group of musicians sang and played their hearts out on the streets…absolutely amazing!!!

I want to tell you however, of a man I met at “Il Rifugio” who attended a concert in the square the night before, and then found himself inside this little local church for yet another concert. His name is “Zolo” or “Joel” as I came to understand. From Nigeria, he made his way to Torino Italy for some reason, maybe with divine insight, he found himself here if only to hear the Gospel. After the series of musicians played, as “usual” our excited team engaged in many intentional, wonderful conversations about Jesus.  I had the privilege of sitting with this very excited traveler.

After a few minutes of casual conversation, (“Joel” spoke English very well), our dialogue took a spiritual turn. He told me that he enjoyed the message that I gave and that he had never heard of how God could love him in this way. Almost like a page borrowed from the bible, his eyes filled with tears and he said these very words: ”Tell me sir, how can I know for certain that I will be saved.” It stole the wind from my lungs, and even now as I write these words I have “goose bumps.” I had the privilege of sharing the full Gospel with Joel, and that night he placed his trust in Jesus Christ as his savior. Again, I saw first hand “The POWER OF GOD FOR the SALVATION of EVERYONE who believes…” It was, it is the power of God for Joel who believes.

If you are keeping up on our “blogs”, you have heard of the beauty of Cinque Terre and Rome so I want to share with you a few more experiences from Poland. However, I will say this one thing: Let’s plant a church in Cinque Terre. Come on, “heaven on earth” needs a church too.

Let me take you to another place, Gniezno, Poland. By bus, we traveled to their historical town square where a stage and amazing sound equipment had already been set up for us. Posters advertising our concert were hung in nearly every window, and on every light post.  To the eye, this square is very beautiful. European shops and homes decorated as a quaint village; bell tower clocks, and balcony’s overlooking the excitement. It really is spectacular.

But there is much more to this town square beneath the surface. Gniezno was the first capital of Poland, a country soaked in history. In the lifetime of my grandparents, this now very beautiful square had once been one of the many places where Hitler’s army marched his troops; where tanks crushed the ground beneath them, and where what is now breath taking in beauty, was then breath taking in war. This place where we were now standing, just 18 years ago, in my lifetime, was suffering the hold of communism. People who were not allowed to believe in Jesus Christ, hold a bible, or pray “freely”, were now about to hear the “Gospel of Salvation” from the stage, through the speakers, echoing off every building within a 2 mile radius. A new war just began. One we can’t see.

The bands took the stage, and our saints hit the square. The music was loud, and being that it was a Friday night, people showed up in mass. Kelsea, Hayden, Zach, and Collin rocked. Hayden spoke of “The Rock Music” and how we as musicians we rooted in something more than just music. We came to perform for free, and we came with a message, a message of love, a message of hope.  Our team of missionaries spread out throughout the square delivering that message. The band played flawlessly, and people continued to show up…the people stayed.

My band took the stage at 8pm. Tony, Kim, Caleb and myself were confident as our sound check was free from trouble. All at once I became aware of the war around me. My pedals broke. Somehow, in front of over 200 people, what was just working was now crackling like a cheap telephone. Mac ran to the stage and while we were performing, he was trying to solve the problem that now proved impossible to fix. You may not know me too well, but in music, I have a particular ear, and like most artists struggle with change; let alone “change on the fly”, while performing, knowing we are on a mission, that the saints are counting on this, and that in less than 35 minutes I will be sharing the Gospel from the stage.

We finished the song, and in front of everyone I explained we were having “technical difficulties” whatever that means. How could I explain “sorry guys, Satan just showed up and is hitting me in the place where he knows I will be thrown off?, Standby for the Lord of Heaven’s armies to arrive.

It was an opportunity for humility. Maybe they needed to see a musician look insecure. Maybe they needed to see an American NOT confident. Maybe they needed to see me, right before their eyes as foolish. I trust the Lord, and I trust that one day I will know. I played the next few songs with no effects (awkward to say the least), and in the best way I knew how I prepared my heart to share the gospel with all who could hear.

I asked my translator Carolina to take the stage. What happened next is impossible to describe to you. The only thing I can adequately explain is that it felt like a cloak fell over my head, and over the people. For me, it was a physical cloak around my mind. I could not place one cohesive thought in front of the other. Previously, I had felt confident to present the gospel from the stage. I know the gospel; I knew how to tell the people.

Suddenly, I could barely form a thought. I began by telling them that I had a message for them that changed my life, and that it was a message of God’s love in Jesus Christ. Instantly, teenagers in front of me began yelling at me. One person in particular walked up to the stage and began screaming at me. A group of people in the corner started laughing, they were pointing. From stage I saw NOT ONE friendly face of a stranger. They were scowls. SCOWLS. Faces of anger directed at me. I was terrified. I was without words.

Then, something truly incredible happened. I saw the bright faces of two of our missionaries. Simultaneously, God used them both from opposite sides of the square to walk towards me. They positioned themselves in front of the stage and like “faces of angels” smiled at me in complete confidence. I have NEVER seen something more beautiful in my life. I had never needed the presence of God’s kindness more. Even in this moment, I am overwhelmed at their tenderness to God’s leading. Somehow, they knew. Somehow, by God’s spirit they spoke to me without a word. 

I delivered the message of salvation. Broken at best, I told them of Jesus Christ, and of God’s love. We finished our last song, and I have to be honest with you, I walked off the stage embarrassed, humiliated, and like I had let everyone down. In my head I heard that all of the saints were disappointed in me; that I had missed the opportunity, that I had failed even Jesus.  Even in this state of mind, clouded by lies from the pit of hell, God did something unbelievable. He used me. Somehow, he used me.

A group of teenage girls had been talking with our translator and with Jim Mcfall. To be completely real, I winced when Jim asked me if I could meet them. I felt like crawling into a hole. Reluctantly, I agreed.  The conversation was hesitant at first, but in God’s unbelievable kindness, suddenly I was asking them if they understood what I said from the stage. Shaking their heads yes, I began to unpack the gospel in it’s entirety.  With the help of our translator, the prayers of Jim, and the Spirit of God two girls prayed to receive Christ in that little town square. Two lives changed for all eternity. When their prayers were finished, these two girls told us that they “could not wait to tell all of their friends about this new message.” Since then, we have found out that they spent their Saturday reading the Gospel of John, and they quoted: “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John 15:13. They knew Jesus. Their relationship had begun. Again, I saw “The POWER of GOD for the SALVATION of EVERYONE who BELIEVES.” Rom 1:16

These “glory stories” don’t end here. For you have not heard about our last and final concerts of our mission trip. The morning began for our folks with a church service at a polish Baptist church. Tony, Kim, Caleb and I were asked to perform 3 songs as “specials” and tell the church of our concert later that afternoon in a public park.  I think we “rocked” their saints in typical “Rock Church” fashion, and if anything, we convinced them that God is the author of all “types” of music.

We were all refreshed by the worship when their band sang “heart of worship” in their language, and we sang to God in ours. It’s hard to describe: People from completely different ends of the Earth singing to one God, at one time, in two languages.  It was beautiful really.

The time came for the concerts. At 3pm the musicians walked to the park where we would perform. We prayed and asked that God would bless our time. All of us were exausted. Every Utah saint had given everything they had for the Gospel, and in many ways, it took faith to move mountains to believe that we could do it all one more time. In the previous weeks, 2,500 fliers had been distributed throughout the apartment buildings that overlooked the park. Yet, with little faith, I personally believed nobody would show.  I was wrong.

The estimated number of people was over 200 people. The people came, they stayed. Kelsea, with the help of a translator, told the onlookers just how beautiful we thought Poland was. Hayden again told them of “The Rock Music” and how were rooted in the “Love of Jesus Christ.” No one moved. They stayed. The band played on.

Our Utah missionaries were seasoned throughout the park engaging in conversations, handing out CD’s and allowing God to use them in their admitted weakness.  Our band took the stage. We played passionately, but at times almost robotically. We were tired, but we were willing. A saint from Poland took  the stage and shared his testimony. The people listened, they did not move an inch. God was on the move, it was wonderful.

The time came for me to share the Gospel. The translator took the stage, the band held their music, and I walked to the microphone. It was different this time. I felt clear. I felt calm. I felt excited to share the very words that changed my life forever. The same message that caused 30 of our saints to endure travel, fear, frustration, and at many times overwhelming humility. I felt at peace, the kind that surpasses all understanding.

I shared the gospel. The people listened. Few left.  Afterwards I was told by many of our people that while I was giving the message, a white dove circled over our heads twice. I did not see it, but I believe it completely.

To describe the scene when the music was over is entirely, like I said at the beginning, impossible. First of all, the president of the community, and the head of this park made an announcement from stage. An older gentleman, he very graciously thanked us for our music, and also for bringing the good weather saying “it must be that we are very good people to bring such glorious weather with our travels.” It was validating, like a stamp of approval for our message.

 In every direction people were engaged in spiritual conversations. Bibles were in their hands, people were praying, gospel “tracks” were in the hands of our new polish friends. It was comfortable. Nobody wanted to leave. It was natural. It was The Lord’s wonderful work.

Kristen and Sierra introduced me to their new friend. They had met her during the music and she wanted to meet the members of the bands. God wanted to save her. His plan is always better. Steve Stockdale, one of the residents here for our sister church translated the gospel for her. She prayed to receive Jesus Christ as her savior. She was excited to tell us that now she knew where she was going for SURE when she died. At the same time, she so sweetly conveyed that now God lives “in my heart.” It was beautiful.

The stage was on a hill, and from that perspective, it was a picture of heaven. There were many who were hearing the message. Our saints were engaged in huddles around those who WANTED to hear. They WANTED to stay. Issac Stockdale, another resident and member of our sister church, and only 11 years old translated for a number of our folks. Collectively, they shared the message of salvation to a 19 year old boy. He prayed to receive Jesus Christ and admitted to wanting “to burst and cry because he was so happy.”

When it seemed like it couldn’t get any better, all at once a group of young men and women, Poles and American’s alike started singing Gospel music. Huddled together, clapping their hands with total “soul”, at the top of their lungs they started to sing about Jesus. It seemed like a Christian storybook. People were praying, people were sharing, people were reading, and now they were singing. Freely. FREELY!!! All of this with the blessing of the Community Chairman.

That night over 40 of us gathered at the Stockdale home and ate pizza in celebration of what God had done in our very midst. Who were we to receive such unbelievable, undeserved favor from the creator of the Universe? Who are we to be used by Him? The bible says we are His “ambassador’s”, His “Sent Ones”, “His Workmanship.” Yet, at the beginning I told you that I am most overwhelmed to be called His child. I have such a wonderful father. That He loves me, that He uses me, that he delights in me, and calls me the object of His affection is to good to be true; but IT IS.

Here is what I know. Now more than ever I resonate with Psalm 16:3: “The Godly people in the land are my true heroes! I take pleasure in them.” There is nothing more beautiful than the love of Christ, but if there is one thing in this broken world that is second to God’s love….it is the magnificent life and love of His church. The sinner made saint. The sent ones. The redeemed ones. The truly FREE ones. The Heroes!!!

Here is one more thought. I have never been more convinced in my life of God’s work in THE ROCK MUSIC. The fruit of taking musicians with a vision to Love God, Bless the Saints, and Win the Lost, while teaching them to use their gifts to support a local church is not measurable. We will not be famous. We will not be glorified. We will not be stars on this earth…..we will be “Stars in the universe.”

For those who supported us in our mission, in any way at all……you have no idea this side of heaven what you accomplished. You too are my heroes, and I love you.

Forever Changed,

Steele 

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