Our Journey through God’s School of Hard Knocks
By ERIC LUDY
In Issue 37 of Set Apart Magazine, we featured an article by Eric Ludy called Barracks 28, Part One.* In this new article, Eric continues the Barracks 28 theme with Part Two. In case you missed Part One, here is a short explanation from Eric as to where the name “Barracks 28” comes from:
Leslie and I named our marriage after the ten Boom’s actual home during World War II. For they really did live in Barracks 28 at the actual Ravensbrück concentration camp in Nazi Germany. It was in this death camp that over 900,000 women were ruthlessly killed. And it was in this place of difficulty that Betsie and Corrie demonstrated to Leslie and me how to transform the challenges of life into the true strength and beauty of life.
Ravensbrück was a place of despair for tens of thousands of women who had nothing to hope for in life but a miserable death. But it was said that Barracks 28 was the place crazy enough to still hope.
That simple statement means so much to us. “The place crazy enough to still hope.”
In the midst of a generation where the heavenly beauty of married love is nearly lost, Leslie and I desire to be known as “that couple crazy enough to still hope.” On our 20th anniversary, I wrote down memories for Leslie — memories of our most challenging experiences as a couple, and the extraordinary spiritual gold that we gained through those experiences. I would like to share some excerpts with you now.
the call
When Leslie and I were first married, I planned on entering med school. We were aiming to one day become medical missionaries. That was the plan.
The plan was certainly not to travel the world and speak on love and relationships.
Neither of us grew up in ministry or missionary families. This idea of traveling and speaking was wholly foreign to us both. In fact, we couldn’t seem to make rhyme or reason for why people were so excited to have us come to them and speak.
We both agreed that we would be willing to do this whole “traveling thing” for one year. After that one year was completed, we could then settle back into the life that we were supposed to be living. I could go to school for medicine and Leslie could pursue nursing studies.
We were interested in serving and both of us were passionate about sharing the Gospel in whatever career path God directed us into. But neither of us had even considered that God may want us to do more of this traveling and speaking number.
Neither of us liked it in the least.
I remember the day that it began to dawn on me that, just maybe, there was more to this particular ministry.
It was in the latter months of 1996 and our one year commitment was almost up. And yet, there were ten more speaking invitations sitting fresh in our mailbox.
Leslie and I were trying to figure out how to say no politely to a whole bunch of Christians.
That was when I asked the question, “Les, what if…?”
We were driving through her parents’ neighborhood. I don’t know why I picked that exact moment to bring it up, but that was the moment I selected.
She looked at me.
How could I even say it? To say it and have the answer be yes would almost be too much for me, let alone for my wife.
But, the Spirit of God pressed it out of me.
“Les, what if God wants us to do this full time?”
Her answer was precisely what I would have expected. She matter-of-factly said, “No way!”
I nodded my agreement. We both tried to be fine with that. After all, you can only live in the midst of bomb blasts and constant spiritual harassment for so long. A year commitment is a year commitment. And that year is almost up. We will be free to pursue our own course. Right?
If I could have heard a thunderous Eric Ludy sermon at this point about total givenness unto the purposes of God, it might have made this process a bit easier. But I still had in my psyche the notion that my life, my marriage, and my future somehow were my property, and that at different times along the journey I would allow God to borrow them. But such is the growth process of us all.
This was the wrestling match that Leslie and I faced.
I thought it was high time that we returned to normalcy. I could start making some good money, we could move out of Leslie’s parents’ basement, and we could finally really get on our feet.
I didn’t say yes to God that day. Leslie didn’t say yes to God that day. The best way of putting it is that we both together, as one, said yes to God that day.
We basically agreed, “God, if You want us to live our entire lives in Barracks 28 — we say yes!”
the bait
When Leslie and I said yes to this course, there was an immediate onslaught of difficulty.
The amount of criticism that began to come our way was startling. And we simply were not ready to be the punching bag for people’s emotional retaliations. We were built in the classic American format which causes one to thrive when liked and wither when hated. We were withering.
When we traveled, Leslie was almost always sick. Her body was breaking down under the stress of it all. And usually, she was the prime target of people’s ruthless attacks.
We witnessed such hypocrisy in the church. We met all the leaders backstage, which seemed to be such a privilege. Until we had to somehow process the many forms of duplicity that we began to witness.
Oh Lord, what has happened to Your Church?
We began to fray at the edges. We began to wonder if all of Christianity was merely a joke. Does anyone really take truth seriously?
This was when the Devil hatched “The Deal.”
It was simple. The Devil seemed to say, “Eric, you let go of this message, and I’ll let go of you!”
He was speaking my language. I was tired of this emotional battering. I was exhausted in this spiritual combat. And, to be honest, it didn’t seem like the Church really wanted this truth anyway. Call it self-pity, and you would probably be right.
“Okay,” I said. “We’re done with this!”
We sat down with Leslie’s parents to make our announcement. We sat awkwardly in their living room. We had told them we needed to let them know some important news. I’m sure they had mused that we were expecting a baby, but our sour expressions must have really messed with their minds.
“Leslie and I are stepping down from speaking and touring.”
I said it. I got it out. Phew! It was done.
Leslie’s parents, unfortunately, were not quick to let this subject go. They began to ask questions. And eventually I admitted that I’d had a discussion with the Devil on this matter.
I’ll never forget the statement from Janet, Leslie’s mother.
She looked at me and stated frankly, “He’s lying to you! He will never let you go until he kills you, Eric. You both know too much and he simply wants you quiet!”
That was precisely what my soul needed in that hour. I needed something to fight. I needed to once again rally around something bigger than my own wants, needs, and comforts. I needed to come to the Cross afresh and remember the shed blood.
I stood up in that living room. I gritted my teeth. And though it was painful, and though part of me still yearned to be free of this difficulty, I made my public commitment.
“We are not going to stop speaking!”
the step
Leslie and I traveled and spoke to hundreds of thousands of people between the years of 1995 and 2003, knowing that we were exactly where God had called us. But there came a time when we both hit a wall of burn-out, and we knew we needed to step back from traveling to become spiritually strong again.
The rule of thumb was this: if we traveled and spoke, then we sold books. If we sold books, then we could survive.
However, if you continue in Christian ministry just because you don’t know how you would survive outside of it, something is amiss.
We felt it was time for us to transition out of full-time touring, but we were booked over a year in advance, and, well, we needed the money.
In the summer months of 2002, Leslie and I decided that it was time to stop traveling. We were spiritually exhausted, physically spent, and emotionally limping. We knew that God was wanting us to trust Him, and to begin to take steps toward the formation of a discipleship ministry.
And we were also convinced that burn-out and spiritual thinness was not how ministry was supposed to be. But we didn’t know what to do other than step away from the traveling and speaking and throw ourselves upon His mercy.
As authors, we had received initial payment on some of our early books. It was enough money to carry us through the writing of the books, but up until April 2003, we had never actually received any royalties.
When we decided to stop speaking, we knew we were walking away from our lone source of income.
So, in the summer of 2002 we stopped accepting any more events for the future, leaving our last event scheduled for the end of March 2003.
April of 2003 was to be our new beginning. And if we looked at it on the calendar. It was a month without any money.
Leslie and I held onto God through this transition. Leading up to the date, we couldn’t get another job, because we had a full-time speaking schedule. We couldn’t spend time looking for another job, because we had a full-time speaking schedule. But, we could pray. And pray we did.
This trial pruned any remaining need within us to control our life. For whatever reason it is a painful thing to relinquish the helm of life. To trust our precious Lord for everything is truly precious, but not without its difficulty.
Our God is Jehovah Jireh, the Lord God who provides. This means that He sees our needs beforehand and ensures that what is needed is always there and waiting.
March 2003 was a painful month. We knew it was the end of our tour. We had declined every future event. We were finishing. And the money that was coming in from that source would officially stop flowing as well.
When the first week of April rolled around, something happened that still to this day amazes me.
Our very first royalty check for When God Writes Your Love Story appeared in the mail on April 1st.
It had taken five years, but suddenly, our revenues on that book had crested the advanced payment we had received. We had money coming in. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was enough. And as a result we were able to take a much-needed season to press into God and gain vital spiritual tools that equipped us to go the distance in ministry.
On the outside, Barracks 28 doesn’t probably look that attractive. But on the inside, there is a glow of heavenly warmth and beauty that never goes out.
Inside Barracks 28, Leslie and I know the providing hand of Jehovah Jireh.
Don’t ever judge a life by its cover. Under that dust jacket, you will certainly find that the greatest, most romantic stories are found inside the marriages that face the most challenges.
Pray that your marriage someday might have all the necessary challenges in order to be considered amongst the “greats.”