On a rainy morning in 1984, Gene Breitenbach and his wife Lynn were excited to put what they packed the night before into the
back of a small used car they borrowed from Lynn’s father. A guitar, an electronic-piano, two pillows, several literary and science fiction novels, and two Bibles. Three months before, Gene Breitenbach, 23, had married Lynn Mather, 24, after graduating from West Washington University. Six months before that, while attending the same university, the soul mates had found their life cause—travelling as Christian pastors.
Gene started the car. It was a white Ford Hornet. The interior of the car smelt like a cup of fresh herbal tea. A stream of sunlight shot through the gap of leaves and down on the worn-out brown leather of the seat, making the color paler. Lynn closed her eyes and began to pray. A smile lingered on her face. They were heading for their first destination—Central Washington University—150 miles away from their hometown of Bellingham in Washington State. After driving 80 miles, the car broke down.
“It was the only awful moment in our 20-year trip,” Lynn recalled.
When Americans hear the word “missionary,”they tend to think of faraway countries where Westerners work in the wilderness to gather converts. But the Breitenbachs represent another kind of religious promoter: the domestic missionary. From 1984 to 2004, the couple drove about 500,000 miles in four cars across every state in the United States except Alaska and Hawaii. Under the title of “National Campus Evangelist,” they visited over 150 universities and colleges, preaching, listening, singing, performing and worshipping.
“God arranged us to do that,” said Lynn, looking back on the best period of her life.
They followed schedules of universities, spent one week in each university, and took a rest for one month in winter and another two and a half months each in spring and autumn. In the winter semester, they went south, going along the western coast past Texas to Florida, and back to Bellingham. In the spring and fall semester, they went north, crossing five big lakes to the eastern side, went along the eastern coast and cut back into middle states like Kansas or Missouri. Each university and college that they went to had a campus ministry called ChiAlpha.
Chi Alpha, meaning “Christ’s ambassador” according to 2 Corinthian 5:20, is a Christian ministry founded in 1953 at Missouri State University. In 1984, when the Breitenbachs started their trip, it had almost 200 campus ministries in the U.S. Today, the number has doubled.
In a washed-out picture taken in late 1980s, Gene had bob blonde hair and wore a yellow striped shirt and blue grid khaki pants, a brown tie
lying slack on his neck. The white make-up and red lipstick made him appear like a vampire. A blue-painted curved line crossed half of his face. In another picture taken at the same time, he was among six people all in bizarre flamboyant outfits with white and colorful painting on their faces. Gene said they were doing street drama to tell Christian stories.
It was a cloudy afternoon. The bell just rang. Ten minutes for break. Gene and his drama team scurried to the front of the building. They wore ill-fitting costumes borrowed from an old clothing warehouse the day before and dressed themselves like “punk rockers” to attract attention. In the late 1980s, punk rockers were treated as potential hazards to the society, abrasive, rebellious and counter-culture. They were going to perform an adapted short story about the good Samaritan in the Bible (Luke 10: 25). Gene had rehearsed it for two weeks.
Two people narrated the story, each standing beside a tree.
One said, “What must I do to inherit eternal life? Say, love neighbor as yourself.”The other (Gene) followed, “A man was walking from
Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way, he was beaten by thugs.”
Three people came up in the middle and mimed beating a man. One of them lay on the ground.
“A minister walked by, but he stepped to the other side of the road.”
A slim man wearing a white beret (the minister) circumvented the man lying on the ground.
“A professor walked by, but he stepped to the other side of the road.”
A tall and thin guy in super large black glasses (the professor) walked past the man.
“A punk rocker came. He gave medicine to the man, took him to the hospital and paid his bill.”
A man with messy hair mimed playing the guitar. He picked up the man on the ground, put him on his back and ran to the “hospital.”
“So who was this guy’s true neighbor?” Gene asked the audience.
After three seconds, all the performers said, “the man who had mercy.”
“It’s not who you are that matters. It’s what you do that counts,” Gene said to the audience.
A yellow picture taken in 1988 unveils Lynn. She stood in front of the university center of University of California Santa Barbara, flipped through her song folder and tried to find her first song for the day’s open-air concert. In each university, she would hold a small concert like this in the free speech area to encourage all who heard to love and worship Jesus with all their heart and soul. It was another good day. God never failed them, since most of their activities were outdoors.
Lynn felt a little hot. She wore a black vest over a white shirt and black jeans. Sweat moistened her wrists. She began to tune up her guitar, a
gift from her father to celebrate her graduation from college. He supported his daughter’s decision of being a campus minister, although he was not a Christian. He supported the couple by lending to them one of his cars, although it broke down in the midway. Thank God, it was repaired.
A crowd started to gather. Not so many, as usual, but enough. Most of them sat far away from Lynn on the stairs. A few closer ones were students from Chi Alpha. A boy just walking past Lynn slowed his steps, stopped on the stairs, and looked back. He saw a woman with blond hair wearing a pair of wire-ringed glasses and standing next to a big dusty sound box. Five minutes later, she was going to sing about 15 songs: five contemporary Gospel songs, five pop songs, and five songs she wrote. Her first album, “Hope of the Eternal” would be debuted in the next year. Her voice was once described as similar to the soulful Karen Carpenter.
One minute away. Lynn took a deep breath and raised her head. The bright sun transformed to a warm halo before her eyes. She knew God was looking at her. You are there, a song she wrote.
In my righteous state / In my darkest night / Lord, you are there.
back of a small used car they borrowed from Lynn’s father. A guitar, an electronic-piano, two pillows, several literary and science fiction novels, and two Bibles. Three months before, Gene Breitenbach, 23, had married Lynn Mather, 24, after graduating from West Washington University. Six months before that, while attending the same university, the soul mates had found their life cause—travelling as Christian pastors.
Gene started the car. It was a white Ford Hornet. The interior of the car smelt like a cup of fresh herbal tea. A stream of sunlight shot through the gap of leaves and down on the worn-out brown leather of the seat, making the color paler. Lynn closed her eyes and began to pray. A smile lingered on her face. They were heading for their first destination—Central Washington University—150 miles away from their hometown of Bellingham in Washington State. After driving 80 miles, the car broke down.
“It was the only awful moment in our 20-year trip,” Lynn recalled.
When Americans hear the word “missionary,”they tend to think of faraway countries where Westerners work in the wilderness to gather converts. But the Breitenbachs represent another kind of religious promoter: the domestic missionary. From 1984 to 2004, the couple drove about 500,000 miles in four cars across every state in the United States except Alaska and Hawaii. Under the title of “National Campus Evangelist,” they visited over 150 universities and colleges, preaching, listening, singing, performing and worshipping.
“God arranged us to do that,” said Lynn, looking back on the best period of her life.
They followed schedules of universities, spent one week in each university, and took a rest for one month in winter and another two and a half months each in spring and autumn. In the winter semester, they went south, going along the western coast past Texas to Florida, and back to Bellingham. In the spring and fall semester, they went north, crossing five big lakes to the eastern side, went along the eastern coast and cut back into middle states like Kansas or Missouri. Each university and college that they went to had a campus ministry called ChiAlpha.
Chi Alpha, meaning “Christ’s ambassador” according to 2 Corinthian 5:20, is a Christian ministry founded in 1953 at Missouri State University. In 1984, when the Breitenbachs started their trip, it had almost 200 campus ministries in the U.S. Today, the number has doubled.
In a washed-out picture taken in late 1980s, Gene had bob blonde hair and wore a yellow striped shirt and blue grid khaki pants, a brown tie
lying slack on his neck. The white make-up and red lipstick made him appear like a vampire. A blue-painted curved line crossed half of his face. In another picture taken at the same time, he was among six people all in bizarre flamboyant outfits with white and colorful painting on their faces. Gene said they were doing street drama to tell Christian stories.
It was a cloudy afternoon. The bell just rang. Ten minutes for break. Gene and his drama team scurried to the front of the building. They wore ill-fitting costumes borrowed from an old clothing warehouse the day before and dressed themselves like “punk rockers” to attract attention. In the late 1980s, punk rockers were treated as potential hazards to the society, abrasive, rebellious and counter-culture. They were going to perform an adapted short story about the good Samaritan in the Bible (Luke 10: 25). Gene had rehearsed it for two weeks.
Two people narrated the story, each standing beside a tree.
One said, “What must I do to inherit eternal life? Say, love neighbor as yourself.”The other (Gene) followed, “A man was walking from
Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way, he was beaten by thugs.”
Three people came up in the middle and mimed beating a man. One of them lay on the ground.
“A minister walked by, but he stepped to the other side of the road.”
A slim man wearing a white beret (the minister) circumvented the man lying on the ground.
“A professor walked by, but he stepped to the other side of the road.”
A tall and thin guy in super large black glasses (the professor) walked past the man.
“A punk rocker came. He gave medicine to the man, took him to the hospital and paid his bill.”
A man with messy hair mimed playing the guitar. He picked up the man on the ground, put him on his back and ran to the “hospital.”
“So who was this guy’s true neighbor?” Gene asked the audience.
After three seconds, all the performers said, “the man who had mercy.”
“It’s not who you are that matters. It’s what you do that counts,” Gene said to the audience.
A yellow picture taken in 1988 unveils Lynn. She stood in front of the university center of University of California Santa Barbara, flipped through her song folder and tried to find her first song for the day’s open-air concert. In each university, she would hold a small concert like this in the free speech area to encourage all who heard to love and worship Jesus with all their heart and soul. It was another good day. God never failed them, since most of their activities were outdoors.
Lynn felt a little hot. She wore a black vest over a white shirt and black jeans. Sweat moistened her wrists. She began to tune up her guitar, a
gift from her father to celebrate her graduation from college. He supported his daughter’s decision of being a campus minister, although he was not a Christian. He supported the couple by lending to them one of his cars, although it broke down in the midway. Thank God, it was repaired.
A crowd started to gather. Not so many, as usual, but enough. Most of them sat far away from Lynn on the stairs. A few closer ones were students from Chi Alpha. A boy just walking past Lynn slowed his steps, stopped on the stairs, and looked back. He saw a woman with blond hair wearing a pair of wire-ringed glasses and standing next to a big dusty sound box. Five minutes later, she was going to sing about 15 songs: five contemporary Gospel songs, five pop songs, and five songs she wrote. Her first album, “Hope of the Eternal” would be debuted in the next year. Her voice was once described as similar to the soulful Karen Carpenter.
One minute away. Lynn took a deep breath and raised her head. The bright sun transformed to a warm halo before her eyes. She knew God was looking at her. You are there, a song she wrote.
In my righteous state / In my darkest night / Lord, you are there.
Back to the beginning of the 1980s, Lynn was a music student in West Washington University. She didn’t become a Christian until 17. On the night of July. 27, 1975, which later became her spiritual birthday, Lynn was sitting in the midst of 2,000 young people on a Saturday night youth conference in a local church in Tacoma, her hometown. She read the Gospel with her peers, listened to their worship, and, at a moment, she felt God. “I knew who God is and experienced him,” she recalled.
Gene felt God on the night when he heard a speech by David Wilkerson, an influential and passionate Evangelical speaker in the 1970s, who
was killed in a car crash in 2011 at age 79. Wilkerson’s style touched him and made him realize God’s holiness and righteousness and his love toward humans. In West Washington University, he abandoned his science background and took up literature. In 1982, his senior year, he attended a one-year fellowship program in Chi Alpha, where he met Lynn.
In Chi Alpha, Gene and Lynn had already begun to do dorm talk, sing and street drama at campus. Both of them were uncertain about their future. But one thing was certain: they like adventures. “How can we combine our hobbies with our faith?” they asked themselves. A sparkle of idea ignited their heads. Why not travelling as campus ministers? At the same time, Dennis Galyor, the national coordinator of Chi Alpha, was looking for two persons, a couple at best, to do nationwide campus training.
“We had needs, and they had abilities. God must have spoken to us,” said Gaylor, when I talked with him on the phone in December.
The Breitenbachs were probably the first domestic missionaries travelling to so many universities and colleges in a long period of time,
according to Gaylor. To Gene, religious ignorance has grown dramatically over the last twenty years in the U.S. A recent Pew study shows that a third of adults under 30 are “nones”—people without any religious belief—today, the highest in the history. Gene feels that human needs have not changed, but serious exploration of the purpose of life has diminished. Most students have not understood Jesus and rejected him. Few students today understand some of the most basic allusions to the Bible in most Western literature. Part of reasons is sprawling religious radicals and stereotypes.
The spiritual warfare has never ceased. During the 5th century, a famous debate about “grace and sin” occurred between Augustine, the bishop of Hippo, and Pelagius, a British monk. Pelagius believed that the man is born without sin and doesn’t need the grace of God to do well. Augustine defended that the man doesn’t have free will and he is bound in sin and needs God’s forgiveness to be good. Augustine won the debate.
Fifteen centuries later, a Christian group called “the Destroyers” brought Pelagius’s ghosts back.
“The Destroyers,” also referred to as Campus Ministry USA, was founded by an evangelical couple in 1984, the same year the Breitenbachs started their spiritual journey. The Destroyers adopted an aggressive and confrontational approach to preach and hoped that a spiritual rebuke would force sinners to repent. During the preaching, they would directly call a student “whore” to enrage her and hurl a 2-hour monologue with occasional invective at the audience. Behind them stood a big sign that read some statements as abrasive as “A masturbator today is a homosexual tomorrow.”
“It’s not Evangelism,” said Lynn. “Evangelism is about sharing messages about Jesus Christ with people who don’t know God. Those rude pastors hurt students’understanding of what it means to be a Christian.”
Gene had never thought about doing open-air preaching before, “because it’s scary,”he said. But, talking was the core of their 20-year
Christianity “crusade.” In a picture taken in Louisiana State University in the early 1990s, Gene wore a pony tail and stood beside a dustbin, talking about historical, scientific and philosophical evidence of Jesus Christ to students who sat under a big tree nearby. The preaching was interactive. Gene usually talked for 10 minutes to gather crowds, and then received questions from students.
Once a student asked, “What if Jesus is an alien from other planets?”
Questions like this opened Gene’s eyes to the complexity and richness in the Bible, and helped him determine what is and is not the subject
of Scripture. A great deal of his personal growth comes through the questions and challenges received from students outside the Christian faith. And he said his theology was formed by searching for answers to these questions.
When the Breitenbachs trained students from different Chi Alpha campus ministries to communicate with non-Christians, they would put their knees down first every time they approached a stranger and then started conversations, “because religion is an emotional topic in America,” said Gene. “I should make it as less threatening as I can. The fact that I am below your eyes makes it less threatening.
Gene still remembers talking with a Muslim student at campus during the trip.
The student sat on the bench, looking around. Gene went to sit beside him with his legs crossed and started the conversation with a usual
question, “What’s your belief?” The conversation went on for a while and stopped. Gene started it again. The student talked more, but the talking landed soon. Gene started it the third time. The Muslim student said, “Would you mind putting your feet down? Because in my country, to let your feet face me is an insult. I know you didn’t mean it, but it made me uncomfortable.” Gene realized at the very moment that their conversation took off. “It’s an amazing feedback, and we had an amazing discussion.”
To Gene, two things mattered through this talking: one, the student had a good experience with Christians; two, he understood Jesus’s messages, even though he didn’t agree with it.
“We’d like to see every human being following Jesus. But I cannot change you, only God can. We are messengers and communicators between you and God,” said Gene.
On the road, the Breitenbachs received many close calls from God. They once stopped their car in a gas station next to the freeway. A big black pick-up truck rushed by. A few minutes later, when they got on the road again, they found the truck rolled over at the roadside. In Kentucky, they drove in the woods with headlights burnt out. In Arizona, the radiator broke down in the middle of the freeway, just before entering the desert. They once drove two straight days from Florida to New Jersey, with only $100 for food and gas. Before the final toll station to New Jersey, they had almost used up all their money. But, every time when they had a problem with their car, there were always some garages and repair centers waiting for them not far away.
Lynn stopped travelling in 1999 when their daughter, Laura, went to the kindergarten. Gene travelled alone by flight for another five years until they moved to Boston in 2004.
Money has always been an issue. The first time they left home to University of California Santa Barbara in 1984, they had only $25 with them. By the time they reached the border of Washington State, they had raised $125. Even today, when they run out of money in the middle of the month after paying rent and bill, they begin to do fund raising.
“We always trusted God to provide everything that we would need as we were traveling. And he always provided. It’s called
living by faith,” Lynn said.
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:34)
Gene felt God on the night when he heard a speech by David Wilkerson, an influential and passionate Evangelical speaker in the 1970s, who
was killed in a car crash in 2011 at age 79. Wilkerson’s style touched him and made him realize God’s holiness and righteousness and his love toward humans. In West Washington University, he abandoned his science background and took up literature. In 1982, his senior year, he attended a one-year fellowship program in Chi Alpha, where he met Lynn.
In Chi Alpha, Gene and Lynn had already begun to do dorm talk, sing and street drama at campus. Both of them were uncertain about their future. But one thing was certain: they like adventures. “How can we combine our hobbies with our faith?” they asked themselves. A sparkle of idea ignited their heads. Why not travelling as campus ministers? At the same time, Dennis Galyor, the national coordinator of Chi Alpha, was looking for two persons, a couple at best, to do nationwide campus training.
“We had needs, and they had abilities. God must have spoken to us,” said Gaylor, when I talked with him on the phone in December.
The Breitenbachs were probably the first domestic missionaries travelling to so many universities and colleges in a long period of time,
according to Gaylor. To Gene, religious ignorance has grown dramatically over the last twenty years in the U.S. A recent Pew study shows that a third of adults under 30 are “nones”—people without any religious belief—today, the highest in the history. Gene feels that human needs have not changed, but serious exploration of the purpose of life has diminished. Most students have not understood Jesus and rejected him. Few students today understand some of the most basic allusions to the Bible in most Western literature. Part of reasons is sprawling religious radicals and stereotypes.
The spiritual warfare has never ceased. During the 5th century, a famous debate about “grace and sin” occurred between Augustine, the bishop of Hippo, and Pelagius, a British monk. Pelagius believed that the man is born without sin and doesn’t need the grace of God to do well. Augustine defended that the man doesn’t have free will and he is bound in sin and needs God’s forgiveness to be good. Augustine won the debate.
Fifteen centuries later, a Christian group called “the Destroyers” brought Pelagius’s ghosts back.
“The Destroyers,” also referred to as Campus Ministry USA, was founded by an evangelical couple in 1984, the same year the Breitenbachs started their spiritual journey. The Destroyers adopted an aggressive and confrontational approach to preach and hoped that a spiritual rebuke would force sinners to repent. During the preaching, they would directly call a student “whore” to enrage her and hurl a 2-hour monologue with occasional invective at the audience. Behind them stood a big sign that read some statements as abrasive as “A masturbator today is a homosexual tomorrow.”
“It’s not Evangelism,” said Lynn. “Evangelism is about sharing messages about Jesus Christ with people who don’t know God. Those rude pastors hurt students’understanding of what it means to be a Christian.”
Gene had never thought about doing open-air preaching before, “because it’s scary,”he said. But, talking was the core of their 20-year
Christianity “crusade.” In a picture taken in Louisiana State University in the early 1990s, Gene wore a pony tail and stood beside a dustbin, talking about historical, scientific and philosophical evidence of Jesus Christ to students who sat under a big tree nearby. The preaching was interactive. Gene usually talked for 10 minutes to gather crowds, and then received questions from students.
Once a student asked, “What if Jesus is an alien from other planets?”
Questions like this opened Gene’s eyes to the complexity and richness in the Bible, and helped him determine what is and is not the subject
of Scripture. A great deal of his personal growth comes through the questions and challenges received from students outside the Christian faith. And he said his theology was formed by searching for answers to these questions.
When the Breitenbachs trained students from different Chi Alpha campus ministries to communicate with non-Christians, they would put their knees down first every time they approached a stranger and then started conversations, “because religion is an emotional topic in America,” said Gene. “I should make it as less threatening as I can. The fact that I am below your eyes makes it less threatening.
Gene still remembers talking with a Muslim student at campus during the trip.
The student sat on the bench, looking around. Gene went to sit beside him with his legs crossed and started the conversation with a usual
question, “What’s your belief?” The conversation went on for a while and stopped. Gene started it again. The student talked more, but the talking landed soon. Gene started it the third time. The Muslim student said, “Would you mind putting your feet down? Because in my country, to let your feet face me is an insult. I know you didn’t mean it, but it made me uncomfortable.” Gene realized at the very moment that their conversation took off. “It’s an amazing feedback, and we had an amazing discussion.”
To Gene, two things mattered through this talking: one, the student had a good experience with Christians; two, he understood Jesus’s messages, even though he didn’t agree with it.
“We’d like to see every human being following Jesus. But I cannot change you, only God can. We are messengers and communicators between you and God,” said Gene.
On the road, the Breitenbachs received many close calls from God. They once stopped their car in a gas station next to the freeway. A big black pick-up truck rushed by. A few minutes later, when they got on the road again, they found the truck rolled over at the roadside. In Kentucky, they drove in the woods with headlights burnt out. In Arizona, the radiator broke down in the middle of the freeway, just before entering the desert. They once drove two straight days from Florida to New Jersey, with only $100 for food and gas. Before the final toll station to New Jersey, they had almost used up all their money. But, every time when they had a problem with their car, there were always some garages and repair centers waiting for them not far away.
Lynn stopped travelling in 1999 when their daughter, Laura, went to the kindergarten. Gene travelled alone by flight for another five years until they moved to Boston in 2004.
Money has always been an issue. The first time they left home to University of California Santa Barbara in 1984, they had only $25 with them. By the time they reached the border of Washington State, they had raised $125. Even today, when they run out of money in the middle of the month after paying rent and bill, they begin to do fund raising.
“We always trusted God to provide everything that we would need as we were traveling. And he always provided. It’s called
living by faith,” Lynn said.
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:34)