International Arena: Germany

Steve says, "If it's Thursday, it must be Heidelberg!"

I received a call from a U.S. Army base in Germany with an invitation to be the keynote speaker at a weekend retreat for an area division of the P.W.O.C., the Protestant Women of the Chapel. The P.W.O.C. is a parachurch organization of military wives and female members of our armed forces.

I geared up for a vigorous fourteen days of ministry. I would prime the pump by speaking to the women and their husbands at various regional chapters. This meant traveling to eight different bases in eight different cities in the same number of days. Including the three day retreat at the conclusion, I’d be speaking a total of fifteen times. This was certainly a full tray from the ministry buffet. Yet rather than the arduous event I had anticipated, this tour offered exhilarating ministry.

Various hosts chauffeured me from base to base where I shared a meal and a message. Upon the program’s conclusion I enjoyed someone’s hospitality for the evening. All this afforded me the privilege of getting to know some wonderful people as well as an opportunity to spend some profound moments within a very distinct subculture. Coloring everyone’s mood was the shadow of coming action in Kosovo. I came away from these bases with a renewed respect for the dedication of both those who serve in the military and their families.

Over one hundred women attended the retreat.  I had anticipated personal exhaustion by the final weekend, but the Lord sustained me as I shared a restorative message of hope and joy. These ladies were attentive to God’s word and furiously recorded Scripture references and notations. Best of all, they laughed at my jokes. To study the Word together with these women so attentive to God’s will, to lead them inworship, to relax and laugh together over after  hours junk food and Cokes, was personally restorative.

My brief encounter with military ministry was unforgettable. My prayers will ever be informed by our time together. If I am again called to minister to our Armed Forces and their families, I will quickly respond, “Roger that!”

One Woman’s Legacy:
A Mother’s Day Tribute

In memory of my mom, Arlene Ger, 1938-1999

Although the lead article is usually reserved for Bible teaching, in light of Mother’s Day, we will focus on one mother’s enduring legacy. On January 28, my mom passed away at the age of sixty. In her brief life, my mother showed us what it meant to be a disciple of Jesus. As she lay helpless in a comatose state following her stroke, in one last act of grace the Lord used her to finally bring my Dad, her husband of 41 years, to faith in the Messiah.

As my father sat with her around the clock reading her the Scriptures, he saw clearly for the first time the overlap between her lifestyle and Jesus’ compelling instruction. At last he understood what his wife had been trying to share with him for over forty years. Although she could no longer communicate with him through words, the sixty years of her life made an irresistible case for the Messiah. And so, when Mom was called into God’s presence, it was a triumphal homecoming.

Most of you didn’t know my mother, Arlene, although some of you had the privilege of some brief yet memorable interaction with her. Allow me to honor my mother by sharing with you why those of us who knew her loved her so much.

There’s a passage in Scripture where Jesus tells his disciples, “You who see me, see my Father as well.” In a certain fashion, this is true of all parents and their children. When you see the child, you see the parent behind the child. Our parents help make us who we are. I am a reflection of my mother. When you look at me, to a great extent you also see her. In so many ways, I am my mother’s son.

What do people remember most about my mother? Her smile. Before Mary Tyler Moore was turning the world on, my mother was lighting up every context in which she found herself. People’s reaction to the news of my mother’s passing was striking. It seemed as if, for them, someone had just suddenly taken a huge bite out of the sun and dimmed the light to which they had become accustomed. Their realization was that, from now on, this world will be a little duskier.

Of course, the one most devastated by her passing was my father. Mom had broken her hip last April and was bedridden since that time. For several months my parents hired live-in home health care. But, after a succession of aides over several months, my father grew impatient with the quality of their care. He fired Mom’s most recent aide and took over the job of caring for her himself. No one took better care of my mother than her husband.

In these final two months, when she was hospitalized, my father barely left her side. He was her constant and steady companion, leaving her only occasionally to sleep, eat or if the nurses kicked him out. The ICU nurses let Dad stay with Mom almost around the clock, reading Scripture to her, praying for her, talking to her, holding her hand. The doctor, the nurses, the chaplain, none of them had seen such devotion of a husband for a wife. I believe that a woman’s life can be measured by the amount of devotion she elicits from her husband. In this, my mother had few peers.

My parents wrestled with the agony of infertility. For my mother, following seven years of heartfelt prayer for a child, her pregnancy was nothing short of miraculous. I believe that, like Hannah’s prayer, my mother’s prayer was sweet music to the Lord’s ears and He granted her request.

If you were to deconstruct my life, you would see how many elements are in place thanks to my mom. My mother had the privilege of being a third generation Jewish believer in the Messiah. Several members of her family had believed in Jesus, including her mother and grandmother. This was the marvelous legacy of faith that she passed on to me, her only son.

My mother instilled in me a love of the arts. She took me to my first Broadway show, Fiddler on the Roof. I was only seven years old and it was one of the great, electrifying experiences of my life. I still vividly remember it all, from the subway rides to the curtain calls.

Mom always encouraged me and never missed one of my theatrical endeavors. She always came to my high school and college productions, often sitting in the front row. If I had a lead role, she would usually come several times (and when the video was made, she would subject the rest of our family who couldn’t attend in person). And always, of the entire audience, my mom would laugh the loudest. The whole cast knew when my mom was in the audience. Her distinctive laugh gave us a shot in the arm. I look forward to hearing that laugh again. If she could speak now, I suppose she would say to me, “What -- you’re only going to speak? You couldn’t bring your piano and sing, too?”

Mom gave me some of my first acting opportunities. She was on the township’s First Aid  Squad when I was in junior high and occasionally, for training purposes, they used to fake car crash scenes to practice rescue techniques. Several times I was splayed out on the sidewalk, phony blood smeared everywhere, a piece of glass jutting

out of my forehead, pretending to go into shock (delivering an Oscar worthy performance). Then, as I lay there, I would hear the sirens; the ambulance would arrive on the scene, and out would bound my mom, coming to the rescue. She had a talent for rescuing her son.

My mother was a very involved parent and demanded excellence. Every night when I was in grade school, she would take my black composition book and inspect my homework. My homework would be torn up if it didn’t meet the stringent guidelines of “Inspector 12.” A misspelled word? Tear the page out! Do it over! Penmanship too sloppy? Tear it out! Do it over! Many were the times in college I was glad my mother didn’t have final approval over my homework!

Mom was my second grade Sunday school teacher – and is directly responsible for both my lifelong love of Moses and awe of Charlton Heston. She used to teach us using the flannelgraph, and our unit that term was the life of Moses. I loved hearing about the burning bush. It just so happened that at that time during 1972, The Ten Commandments was re-released into the movie theaters. Every so often Mom would take me to the movies and we considered seeing the story of Moses. I was in a quandary, however, because also released at that time, the same week, was Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Which one to see? I was perplexed. With the weekend edition of the New York Daily News spread out before us, Mom carefully helped me weigh out the pros and cons. We chose Moses over Willie Wonka, and the rest was history. I haven’t been the same since. Just think what I could be doing today if we had seen Willie Wonka instead!

There were many great lessons my mom taught me. She was very strong on the memorization of Scripture and would help me to write out verses on paper, use flash cards, play games, all for the purpose of having God’s word implanted in her son’s heart. Mom also enabled me to accomplish my first public ministry, beginning at the age of four, by helping me memorize the solos I sang every Sunday.

My mother made friends easily and with the grace of Fred Astaire moving across a dance floor. When we used to stand in line at the movie house, (in the time when theaters were still called “movie houses” and it was normal to wait on line to get to see the single film playing inside), by the time we had finally purchased our tickets, she had made friends with everyone standing in front of us and behind us.

People could talk to Mom – tell her anything – she was so approachable. She was also a soft touch – and when she worked at our high school guidance counselor’s office as a secretary, her popular reputation developed with those teens who were in need of the occasional word of advice or unwarranted hall pass.

Until now, I never paid attention to how much my friends loved my mom. She used to particularly make friends with all my girlfriends. Just in case, she used to tell me, one of them wound up being her daughter-in-law. She would develop a rare and magnificent bond with them. Some attributed that connection to the inevitable showing to my dates of super 8 movies of me as a baby, particularly the parts featuring me naked, but I don’t know.

In fact, she always gave the thumbs up or the thumbs down on my dates – and she was always right. Of course, she gave the biggest thumbs up to my wife, Adria. She adored her daughter-in-law.

In speaking with friends and family this week, I was reminded by them over and over again of how Mom’s face sparkled when she spoke of me and how I was always her “Stevie.” I was her Stevie for 33 years! It didn’t matter who she was talking with about me, a friend, an aunt, a teacher, a boss, a new girlfriend, or whether or not I was in the room; I was always her Stevie.

And she adored her grandbaby, Jonathan Gabriel, who, in her mind, was a production 33 years in the making. There’s a Yiddish word, kvell, which means to fill up to bursting with pride and joy. No one kvelled over her family like my mother.

Much has been written and said concerning the Jewish mother. And yes, my mother was almost a stereotypical Jewish mother. Was she overprotective? Yes. Did she believe her son to be a prodigy – of course! Did she make certain I was well fed? Always, and my friends, too. Mom was a great cook, when she could find the kitchen. More times than not, she was more comfortable perusing the contents of a restaurant menu than a grocery list.

In fact, one of her most successful accomplishments was that she introduced me to Chinese food. My mother weaned me on spareribs. We have the super 8 movies to prove it. Not kosher ones, the real thing! My parents even threw my tenth birthday party in a Chinese restaurant. So keep your Chucky Cheese and your Mickey D’s, give me Joy Fongs!

When compared with eternity, our lives on earth are only an hors d’oeuvre, an appetizer in the banquet of life. This life is no more than a bowl of wonton soup and a handful of crispy noodles — delicious and quite enjoyable when prepared correctly, but just an appetite stimulant for the main course. So bring on the spare ribs and the sweet and sour chicken!

What kind of woman inspired such devotion and delight? A woman who loved the Lord with every fiber of her being. A woman who exemplified what it meant to live life as a real, three dimensional, authentic, very human disciple of her Messiah. A woman who left her family an indelible illustration of what following Jesus looks like.

As a living memorial to my mother’s life and legacy, Sojourner Ministries has established “The Arlene Ger Memorial Scholarship Fund” for the seminary/Bible school education of Jewish believers who plan to enter the ministry. To send contributions, make checks payable to Sojourner Ministries, earmarked for the scholarship fund

The Unleavened Messiah
In the Dallas Seminary Spotlight

When it comes to the preparation for the ministry to which God has called him, Steve is never reticent to credit his alma mater, Dallas Theological Seminary, with laying a firm theological foundation for his teaching of God’s word. And over the past six months, the Lord has deepened the relationship between Dallas Seminary and Sojourner Ministries.

This fall, Steven received a phone call from DTS requesting an interview for their newsletter, Preach the Word. We were delighted when that interview was featured on the cover of their November issue!

In addition to teaching a seminar this fall at the seminary’s Biblical Studies Institute on the Feasts of Israel, the absolute highlight of Steve’s winter season was being invited to address the student body and his former professors at the last chapel of 1998. Steve used that opportunity to share how the Messiah is reflected in the Jewish holiday of Chanukah.

As 1999 unfolded, we received a call from DTS requesting the use

of our audiotape, The Unleavened Messiah: A Portrait of Christ in the Passover, as a gift premium for the seminary’s donors. As DTS president and renowned Bible teacher Chuck Swindoll writes, “In this fascinating and spirited message, Steven takes you step-by-step through a Passover…(it) will add a new dimension of understanding to your Easter celebration.”

At last count, DTS has ordered 800 tapes from us and we have fielded phone calls from all over the country requesting additional copies of the audio and videotapes as well as information about our ministry!

If you are interested in receiving either a video or audiocassette version of

The Unleavened Messiah, please call us at 972-226-7654 or e-mail us at This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it Since many people buy the tapes as gifts and “giveaways”, we offer quantity discounts. Order your copies today!