Allow me to share with you a few written comments that our friend B.J. Weber received on the occasion of his recent birthday:
These are typical of the many attestations we hear regularly about the powerful impact B.J. Weber has on people’s lives. B.J. has a unique ministry to reach those in crisis, estranged from God, or challenged in their personal faith. B.J. engages these problems head-on, with a joy and discernment that is powerfully effective in reaching people with the healing power of faith in Christ.
For those of you who may not regularly read B.J.’s monthly newsletters, or have not known the inspiring stories over the last 33 years, we can cite just a few highlights:
Nevertheless, B.J.’s ability to continue this powerful work is in jeopardy. B.J.’s work, through the New York Fellowship, depends entirely on the voluntary generosity of people like you. The Fellowship has been operating at a deficit in the recent past, in spite of aggressively restricting costs. Its ability to continue to maintain a hospitality location, lead outreach functions and engage in many ministry activities will depend on your financial support decisions in the near term.
We are deeply thankful for your thoughtful and generous support throughout the years. Would you please consider a meaningful yearend gift at this time, and monthly commitments toward our annual budget going forward for 2012? We deeply appreciate your support of B.J. Weber’s ministry at this time.
Yours in Christ’s Service,
Robert A. Case
In Commemoration of NBC Reporter David Bloom
B.J.'s newsletter from April, Easter 2003 “I am the resurrection and the life….”
NBC national news correspondent, David Bloom, was a friend of ours. He came to faith in October, 2000, at The Friday Group Bible Study held at
David died at the gates of
I called David’s special overseas satellite phone on a regular basis. Our mutual friend,
“The agony in
David was 39-years-old and left behind three young daughters—Christine, Nicole, and Ava—and his dear wife, Melanie. He was our pal, our brother, our young man who was the “next generation,” the guy who would “carry the ball,” who caught the meaning of Jesus’ love. In this life, we will always miss him. Our sorrow is deep and our sadness is unrequited. And now like generations before, we long for the day when “there will be no more pain and suffering on all God’s holy mountain.”
We will all press on to trust in Christ, embracing the blessed hope of the resurrection and the joy of seeing our dear friend David Bloom once again. Both Jim and I had the bittersweet privilege of speaking at David’s funeral services. Please pray that our message planted seeds of faith in the many, many people who loved David Bloom.
In Commemoration from September 11, 2001
Reprinted from the
I do not know what to tell you or what to say. Everything seems so trifling. I have a difficult time praying. Sleep is irregular at best. A week after the bombings, the most common emotion is a deep, deep sadness. Yesterday before I had my coffee, I wept three times. After the second day a film of ash covered our backyard and porch, a reminder of the inferno and holocaust just a few miles from our home.
It’s a horror beyond one’s imagination. “And Jesus wept.” Trying to be useful, I spend my days at the “bereavement center” at the Armory, only a few blocks from our home. Thousands of people line up, filling out missing person reports describing their loved ones, and collapsing under the weight of the reality that their loved ones would not be found. Asking for DNA material/dental charts was perhaps the most difficult of my tasks. Tearfully, they know that rescue was not possible and recovery remote.
The stories are legion: family friend Tom Duke was on the 105th floor of the second tower and he and a handful of colleagues showed up at our door in shock—they had survived; however, 60 of their company are unaccounted for…family friends, little league sponsors, good and gracious people gone and unaccounted for…Father Michael Judge, chaplain for the fire department and co-laborer in Christ, died with his men.
Except for the sirens which blare day and night, the city is amazingly quiet. Cars don’t honk their horns; people are eerily silent and stunned. Generosity and graciousness abound. People stop and comfort others; flags fly everywhere, but a subtle hope is beginning to emerge.
Two cops, sitting in their cruiser, were weeping. I offered to pray with them and they offered me a ride home. Heroes are everywhere: More than 300 firefighters are dead as well as 60 cops and death has not yet abated. We received hundreds of phone calls, many concerned wives and many seeking news of loved ones. Dutifully, I would scan the DOA list and hospital lists in hopes of finding news of lost family members and friends. It’s a horror.
My children are struggling. Max’s hands were shaking at school and he has lost many nights sleep. We later discovered that Rachel’s close friend’s mother died in the Tower 2 collapse. Rachel spent September 12th at her friend’s home, calling hospitals in the search effort, then fell into bed after bouts of nausea. That same night, our neighborhood was evacuated from a bomb threat to the
Acts of heroism and generosity are commonplace. People from around the world have shown tremendous love and support. One of the biggest needs is temporary housing. Tens of thousands are displaced. It’s a horror. “And Jesus wept.” Personally, we are inconsolable. We are trying to help and serve, but the truth is the funerals have not yet begun.
Thank you for your loving responses, concern, prayers and friendship. It is our calling to be in
In Christ’s Service,