Note from Morris:
Today is a day of remembrance in America: to give honor and memory to those who served, to those who have sacrificed for the cause of freedom. SIGN is a part of Global Initiatives, a non-profit with its main thrust of equipping and mobilizing the brethren in lands where religious freedom is most challenged.
God used my service as a US Marine in a Vietnamese unit during the Vietnam conflict to give me a special love for and rapport with the Vietnamese people, who are now the prime focus of our efforts with Global Initiatives.
What the Lord is doing among these remarkable brethren today is extraordinary. Yet, there has been a cost, a high cost, not unlike the cost paid by those this day serves to honor and remember, who risked their all for the cause of freedom.
For those who who either didn't understand or those who simply were never exposed to the realities of the Vietnam conflict, the question remains: did it count? I pray that this testimony will stir you to pray regularly for our brethren in Vietnam and any other members of the household of faith where religious freedom is at risk.
Morris
DID IT COUNT?
(c) Morris E. Ruddick
Growing up in the sixties in South Vietnam was a struggle. Phuc (name changed) shares that he was almost always hungry. His first remembrance of not being hungry was after a meal served at his primary school by a group of Marines from the Danang air base. It was Christmas. The children were exposed to some very different, but tasty food they had never before experienced and there was plenty. Members from the Marine band played festive Christmas songs. The program for local kids was sponsored by Toys for Tots. Each left not only with their belly full and toys from the Marines, but the memory of the kindness of the Americans.
Not many years later, Phuc's village, known to be friendly to the Americans, came under attack from the VC. Five members of Phuc's family were killed in one night, including his mother and grandparents. With little to hope for, Phuc now a teen and his father, heard a radio message about the God of hope and His son Jesus. Phuc remembered the Christmas meal provided by the Marines years before. Despite their Buddhist background, Phuc and his dad began praying and believing the message of Jesus.
With 1975 and the change of governments, things became much worse. People were afraid. Many told things to the authorities in order to gain favor. Phuc was a young man now and began looking for others who believed as he did, to pray with them. Then his father disappeared. Like many others in those days, no one knew what happened to him. He never saw his father again.
Phuc read his Bible and prayed. It was his source of hope for the future. Even within the church, people would inform on one another, so finding people you could trust became a necessity of life. Phuc began meeting and praying regularly with trusted friends. Since he was a natural leader and was growing in his faith, soon other believers began looking to Phuc for spiritual answers.
As time progressed into the eighties, these were very hard times for the Vietnamese, as many lived according to the law of the jungle in order to survive. Many risked everything to escape, in their quest for freedom.
For believers, prayer made a difference. However, those meeting together for prayer had to be planned carefully, as authorities accused them of conspiring against the government. By now, Phuc was recognized as a pastor. As time progressed, these gatherings were happening all over and became the basis of what became known as the "house-church" movement. It spread across the entire land, not just in the newly occupied south, but across the north as well.
Authorities began questioning Phuc and accusing him of being CIA. With the inception of the 90s, Phuc's spiritual leadership was deemed a threat and he was arrested and put in a hard-labor prison.
Conditions were terrible. His day began before daybreak with the only provided meal, a watered-down bowl of rice gruel. Daylight hours were spent toiling in sweltering fields. Hunger, starvation and sickness were the mode. Prisoners, ravished by hunger, ate the bark off trees. Families slipped scraps of foods through chain-link fences in the middle of the night. Men died fighting over a piece of food.
Something happened to Phuc during those 31 months in the prison-work camp. His faith took him beyond himself. Despite the degrading humiliations and physical hardships, there came a wisdom, and with that, a fearlessness of what man could do to him.
At one point, certain camp authorities tried to break him. He was put in a cramped solitary confinement cell without food or light. His physical condition went from bad to critical. He was told he was dying, but that by signing the paper before him, he would be released that day. It was a statement renouncing his faith. His stubborn faith prevailed. He straightened up and looked his captors in the eye and told them: "I'll die before signing that paper."
When the camp commander learned of his plight he gave the command to take him out of solitary, saying "he is not a criminal." What Phuc also had no way of knowing was a humanitarian group was also working on his full release. It happened one week later. When released, he was given the option of going to the US. He chose to stay and help his people.
Since that time, he has become the founder of a network of house-churches that are located from the far north of Vietnam to deep into the Mekong Delta. Through his efforts, the poor are fed and orphanages are supported. He lives humbly, yet tirelessly in helping the poor and disadvantaged.
When I first met this man and he learned I had served twenty-five months in Vietnam as a US Marine in the sixties, he stood at attention, sharply saluted me and thanked me for my service to his nation.
In mid-1966, as an I-Corps grunt, I frequently heard the admonishment to give heed to "the hearts and minds of the people." Rules of engagement determined whether we could shoot back or not -- a tough standard when you're under fire. Yet, almost 50 years later that standard, along with the not-forgotten kindnesses from efforts like Toys for Tots is precisely what we're seeing transcend the years in the response of the Vietnamese to America.
In 1998, it took courage and it took leadership for Vietnam's Prime Minister Kiet to go before the people of Vietnam and tell them it was time to put the past behind them and invite the Americans back. From the north to the south of Vietnam, the Vietnamese people will tell you that everything began changing for the better, from the horrible conditions of that day, as word that the Americans were coming back spread across the land.
In the business world, it's what is referred to as value-added. It's the meal eaten by the hungry kid who years later became a pastor. It's the Toys for Tots Christmas program that will always be remembered by thousands. It is the integrity and discipline and honor that make the Marines what they are known for in combat that endures to establish who they are in the hearts and minds of the people, a generation later.
To answer the question "did it count?" Yeah! Without a doubt, you bet it did.
