While Dad's combat days we're over, the 1970s would be full of battles and challenges.
As a new Christian dad faced many challenges in Vietnam. Dad was baptized in Vietnam by a pastor who baptized Dad "in the name of Jesus and according to His commandment in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."
After his baptism, Dad met a non-Trinitarian Pentecostal who told dad that since he wasn't baptized in the name of Jesus only, he wasn't really saved. Dad prayed to the Lord about this and his Bible randomly opened to scripture which disproved what the man was saying. Dad showed it to the man and he said he'd pray about it. A week or so later, the man wanted the scripture again, saying he'd forgotten, once again Dad's bible opened up to the spot where the scripture was.
One more time, the man wanted to see the scripture and this time Dad couldn't find it and the man insisted it wasn't in the Bible. After the man went away feeling justified, dad prayed wanting to find out why he couldn't find the scripture again and when Dad opened his Bible , it opened to Titus 3, and day's eyes were immediately drawn to verse 10:
A man that is an heretick after the first and second admonition reject;
Dad was known for loaning money to men on the base who needed it. Now that he was a Christian, he didn't charge usurious interest rates and was now concerned about where the money went. A fellow solider requested a $5 loan and dad agreed on the condition that the man wouldn't use the loan to buy alcohol or drugs, or use the local whore house.
Eventually, the soldier came to the Lord and confessed what he had tried to do with the money. The man went to the Whore house and tried to get a prostitute. He showed her the $5 bill and the woman looked at him angrily, commanding to leave and calling him a "#10-GI". Confused, the soldier walked over to another girl and showed the money to her and got the same reaction. Finally, he went to the madam and showed her the money and she told him to get out of there. Due to divine intervention, the solider left the whore house and ended up buying supplies from the Post Exchange store with the $5.
Dad's time in Vietnam ended when my brother Mark was born in May of 1970. Back in the states, Dad began ministering to people. He preached several revivals in North Carolina, but also went out on the Street witnessing.
Dad's street witnessing began when on seperate days, he picked up two young hitchhikers and drove them to a park well-known for it's drug use. The Spirit reminded Dad of the Great Commission to "Go Ye Into the Whole World" and so went down to preach in that park. His first night there, a young man threatened to "pants" him but Dad still held firm. Dad later found out that the young man accepted the Lord.
Another night, dad and another man from the church were awakened by the Spirit of the Lord. The man drove to the house to pick up dad, and together they drove to an address where they didn't know the people who lived there. In the middle of the night, dad knocked on the door and told them that God had sent them there. The husband allowed them in the house and dad found out that their son had a horrible case of mumps. His testicles were in a cradle with an ice pack, it was so bad. Dad and the other man prayed for the boy and left the room. While they were talking to the husband, his wife walked out of their son's room carrying the cradle and the ice pack while smiling.
This wasn't the only miracle dad participated in. At a revival, dad was praying for people. Dad prayed for a man in a wheel chair.
Dad asked the man, "Do you believe God can heal you?"
"Yes, I do." said the man.
"No, he doesn't," said the Lord to my dad.
"Do you believe that if we pray for you, you'll be able to walk?" said my dad.
"Yes, I do," said the man.
"No, he doesn't." said the Lord.
Dad prayed for the man and the said, "In the name of Jesus, rise up and walk."
"I can't," replied the man.
"Have you ever tried?" asked my dad.
"No," said the man.
"Then, try in the name of Jesus." said dad.
Dad then lifted the man out of his wheel chair and kicked the chair away. The man was standing on his feet.
"Now, go ahead and walk," said my dad.
"I can't," said the man.
"In the name of Jesus, walk." insisted my dad.
Reluctantly the man hobbled forward and his steps became more sure and eventually he was running. Dad lifted the wheelchair over his head, as people began to shout and praise God because what had been done.
Dad's ministry went outside the church. He talks about how he witnessed to Bee-girls (whatever those were), drunks, and prostitutes. Dad even went into bars to witness. He would order a 7-Up and then sit down with people and share the good news.
One night while visiting a bulky bar, a 6' 3" man stood up and declared that he didn't want to hear what my dad had to say. My dad said that he wasn't going to force him, he'd just talk to someone else. The man declared that he didn't want my dad talking to anyone else in the bar either. Dad said the man didn't have the right to do that. The man then began to threaten my dad. Then, out of nowhere, a man that my dad's keenly trained eyes hadn't seen "stood up and up and up". The man was a 6'7" Native American. The Native American said, "I want to hear what the preacher has to say." The other man turned around snarled, "Oh yeah," and seeing the height of the Native American said, "Oh, I didn't know anybody wanted to hear him, go ahead." My dad finished his work without ever getting to the Native American man. He didn't understand how his trained Green Beret eyes had missed this man, he figured Native American must have been an angel.
People in his church wouldn't have believed he'd seen an angel. His witnessing efforts had made them uncomfortable and thus nasty rumors began to fly about my dad, with people saying he was "devil-possessed" and had become a fanatic. An Evangelist who was not part of Dad's church visited my dad's church and excoriated it for its conduct and pointed to what my dad was doing as a positive thing. My dad, who hadn't mentioned the issue to the evangelist, was totally surprised.
Despite his work on the street and holding several revivals dad was never ordained by the Church of God because he had a mustache at the time. He was told by his pastor, "Good Church of God men don't have hair on their face." The next week, an issue of the Church of God magazine came out with a picture of the Church's founders and six of the seven founders had beards.
Dad faced more serious problems in the Church of God in the South. As dad had been raised in a melting pot neighborhood in the Northwest, he didn't accept the South's racial situation. In promoting a church revival, dad went door to door, including visiting several houses in African American Neighborhoods.
After inviting one lady to the revival, she asked, "But isn't that a White Church?". My dad smiled and replied, "No, it's a red brick building." The woman, "It's a white church, though, right?" My dad once again insisted, "No, ma'am, it's a red brick building." At this point, they both started laughing.
Several African Americans attended the service and what happened there was a key turning point in my dad's life with the Church of God. He was shocked and hurt by what he saw among "the people of God". One woman who he had thought was so spiritual left the church saying that she wasn't coming back until they "got those nigroes out of my church" and another brother in the church was talking to an African American man and told him, "You know there's a Black Church of God down the street."
Dad's longtime sense of the evils of racial prejudice made one soldier's statement to him offensive. An African American private under his command claimed that dad hadn't promoted him because he was black. Dad, after all he'd been through responded firmly, "I didn't refuse to promote you because you're black. I didn't promote you because you're a jerk. You goof off. You sneak off when you're supposed to be working. I've promoted several other African Americans who have been doing their job." Though dad was greatly offended by what the man said, it didn't stop Dad from witnessing to him after the man had left the army and had been thrown in jail on drug charges. In that jail, dad led the man who had accused him of racial prejudice to the Lord.
Dad's service in the Army was coming to an end. After coming home from Vietnam dad had taken over a medical platoon at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. When Dad arrived, the entire unit was a disaster, with poor record keeping, poor procedure, and poor performance. Dad promised to simply treat the men under his command like men and promised if they did their job, they'd receive promotions and everything would run smoothly. Dad's style and the Lord's blessing worked very well as he turned the platoon around.
Dad's convictions on war began to surface again as he was having problems even working in a medical platoon in the states. In his view, he was patching people up so they could go and kill people. He walked into the office of his Commanding Officer and told him he was going to register as a conscientious objector. Once that process was complete, he would no longer be working with that medical platoon.
After talking to the Commanding Officer, dad left his office and the CO came running after him, begging him to stay because they had never had anyone before who had done as good of a job with that platoon. My dad's conviction was firm, however, and he was leaving.
In the process of registering as a conscientious objector he spoke to a Chaplain, a psychiatrist, and an intelligence officer. Dad witnessed to each of them.
In the middle of this process though, Dad got a new First Seargent who called him into his office and told him, "I don't want you talking to your men about Jesus Christ anymore." Dad replied, "Well, sir, I don't talk about Him on company time." The Commanding Officer replied, "I don't want you talking about Jesus Christ at all.". My dad then informed his Commanding Officer that he didn't have the authority to issue that order. "If you talk about Jesus Christ with your men, I'll throw you in the stockade." said the Commanding Officer. "People in the stockade need to hear about Jesus, too." said my dad.
This frustrated the Commanding Officer, who gave dad his release from his assignment. He told my dad just to wander around the base until he found someone to take him in. Finally, he found a home with Special Services. He was offered a choice between managing the Enlisted Men's Club and the Funeral detail. As the work with the Enlisted Men's Club required him to book dancing girls, dad decided on the Funeral detail.
On the funeral detail, Dad led the men who would fire a rifle into the air at military funerals. Dad also presented an American flag to a survivor of the deceased. One day a man died who was a Jehovah's Witness and no one was coming to speak at his funeral. As dad was a "preacher", they asked him to do it. Dad prepared a message on judgment to come, and how men must believe on Christ to be saved. Before dad could deliver it however, a bunch of angry Jehovah's witnesses stormed across the graveyard. Dad was informed that he was off the funeral detail. Dad asked, "Why, what did I do?"
Dad was then told that they had an assignment for someone to coordinate activities at the Girl Scout hut in town. Dad asked for further detials and was told that the job would entail getting the hut prepared for meetings. My dad smiled and said, "So, you need a janitor?" Dad took the assignment and spent all of his time at the hut until the director of the Girl Scouts told him that they didn't need him there all the time as they only met two to three times a month. She told him that they would call in him when he was needed. So Dad spent his last two years in the military being paid his normal E-7 salary to clean the Girl Scout hut 2-3 times a month while spending the rest of his time reading the Bible, praying, and witnessing.
While this was going on, dad's personal life was falling apart. The woman he was with had given birth to my brothers, Mark and Eric, but had begun cheating on him once again. A custody battle began with the children being take back and forth by both parents. During the course of this battle, dad ended up leaving the Church of God, as he was visiting a town that had a Church of God during the course of this battle in 1973.
Dad contacted the pastor and explained that he'd preached for the Church of God, and was in a difficult situation needing help. The pastor gave my dad a sandwich and took him to a skid row apartment. The pastor had a three bedroom house in which only he and his wife were staying and could have put dad up there instead of in a roach motel. Disgusted, dad left the Church of God, never looking back.
Custody proceedings were finalized and despite her long record of unfaithfulness and bad relationships, custody of the two children was awarded to the woman.
My dad was devastated. Two weeks after the ruling, the woman returned and dropped Mark and Eric off with him. The woman's visitations were infrequent to say the least. He wrote down every time she visited and she spent most of the time talking to him.
Dad made several efforts at reconciliation until he discovered they had never really been married as she had been still married to someone when they were wed. Dad then pressed charges and the woman was given three years probation for polygamy. Dad began to examine the effects this would have on Mark and Eric. With their mother living this close to them, Dad knew the kids would begin to think that their mother didn't love them. To protect them from this harsh reality, he decided to move back home to Washington State.
Being a Single Father was difficult for my dad and it wasn't helped by the fact he had two very difficult children. My dad confessed to God that he had no taste in women and prayed that God would send the right woman into his life. His prayer was answered when he met my mom in 1979.
My mom had been on few dates, and very few of her dates were actually gentleman. On their first date, dad took her to a restaurant and pulled out a chair for her. She then moved to another chair, which he again pulled out for her, in like manner, she continued to move around the table until she asked where he was going to sit and he explained that he was pulling out the chair so that she could sit down.
Dad was showing off his sophistication by using a French phrase to propose a toast.
"Chin, chin," said my dad.
"Nose, nose," replied my mom.
After a lot of prayer they decided to get married. They were married by my mom's brother, an Assistant Pastor in the Assembly of God, on January 4, 1980. My mom didn't think it was time for the wedding yet as she was waiting to come out but her dad dragged her out, knowing it was time. My dad looked over at his future father-in-law dragging his bride down the aisle and wondered what was going on. Everything went alright at the ceremony until the part where they were exchanging rings. My dad's ring wasn't sized properly and my mom kept trying to put it on his finger saying, "With this ring I thee-With this ring I thee-" before finally giving up and placing it in his hand. My mom's brother pronounced them husband and wife. After the ceremony, my grandpa Stanfield declared, "Well, too late to back out now."
Whatever the case, my dad was no longer alone and the 1980s would bring additional challenges and members of the family.
My Dad and Me (1980-Present)
Shortly after my parents were married, my mom became pregnant. Through a difficult labor, in which my mom almost died, she gave birth to me. Four years later, my brother, Joshua was born.
In the early 1980s, my dad raised goats up in the Yaak, Montana. He called them by name and to this day can still remember the name of his most special goats. In addition to the goats, we had two cats (Tiger and Casper), and a dog (Red) up in the Yaak.
Dad's faith was vital to my development. The doctors declared that I'd be retarded or "dull normal" because I was slow learning to talk. Dad refused to except that. He prayed over me and read the Bible to me regularly. I will believe to my dying day that what he did played a decisive role in my life.
When I was little, I would really miss my dad whenever he was away. So that dad could get out to the barn to milk the goats without me screaming, my mom and he made up a little song that went something like this, "Daddy is milking the goats, ha ha, Daddy is milking the goats, ho, ho, Daddy is the Milking the Goats, ha, ha, I love my daddy."
Dad helped me learn how to read and do math. He basically gave me a pre-school education in my bedroom in the loft.
Dad loved the Yaak, yet he didn't feel that he was in the center of God's perfect will for His life. Dad spent a lot of time praying, fasting, and seeking God on a cliff on the property, as he wanted God's perfect will to be accomplished in his life. After much prayer and fasting, dad had a prophetic calling and a prophetic message. It was time to leave our place in the Yaak.
As a four year-old, it was difficult leaving the only home I'd ever known, but there was better ahead. There always something new and exciting just around the bend. Though, I didn't know it, I was setting out on a great adventure. As we were about to leave, I thought of another reason to stay. I said to my mom, "We forgot daddy's cliff."
Over the course of the next six years, Dad traveled the United States, preaching to those who would listen and would receive his message. During this time visited churches that were Pentecostal, Baptist, Messianic Jewish, and non-denominational.
The first five of those six years, we were driving around the country in a converted 1963 School Bus that my dad had painted green and brown. Dad somehow managed to fit me, my two brothers (6'6" and 6'7" respectively) into the bus along with my mother, my brother, and me. Quarters were often cramped and pay showers were the norm for us until well past my tenth birthday.
I remember several things about my father as I was growing up. First, he never got many presents on his birthday. He would specifically tell everyone not to get him presents for his birthday. This left Mark and Eric with the mistaken impression that he simply doesn't like presents. The fact was that since his birthday was on the 27th, he knew that it would further stretch the family's resources if we bought him presents.
It was very important to him that we enjoyed life. Dad's message of the dangers America faced was somber, yet he wanted to see to it that his children had more than tears to look back on. Dad was always sure to see to it that we had good memories from our childhood and life for when "the bad times came". He always made sure that we had good birthdays and nice presents. Though, they weren't always new (the Thrift store was a favorite shopping stop when I was a kid), but they were always nice. For similar reasons, dad took us to parks, zoos, and amusement parks whenever he had the chance.
I remember being in awe of my dad and how he preached so well. I remember looking up at my dad and wanting to preach just like daddy. In the course of these ministry years, some events stood out from among others.
During a trip to Louisiana, my dad met a man named Jesse who was determined to be Dad's promoter. At that time, dad often told the story of how he was sharing a prophetic message on a street corner and angry people began to stone him with green apples, miraculously the apples didn't hit him.
This story grew in Jesse' s tellking of it. Going outside to play with some other kids, I heard Jesse talking to a pastor of an area church saying, "He was standing on a street corner preaching and they were throwing stones at him and God turned them into green apples."
Jesse also tried to get dad to cancel an engagement at a smaller church, so he could instead preach to a bigger church in the area. Dad refused, as he had already committed to the smaller church.
Dad encountered some bizarre people in the course of his ministry. One of the most bizarre was R.G. Stair , a South Carolina cult leader. Nothing about Stair's cult was yet in the public domain. Stair had somehow come across a copy of the message and ran it in his paper.
This had opened many different churches to dad. We were enjoying a great camp meeting in Mena, Arkansas when R.G. Stair arrived. Each day had been filled with good men delivering good sermons. In the first three days, dad had delivered three sermons himself.
R.G. Stair arrived in the middle of testimony time and while I was giving a testimony, he cut me off and declared that no one else was going to speak the rest of the week. I was hoping that Stair would be a good preacher.
Well, was I in for a shock. Stair's "sermon" dragged on for four hours. He attacked Abraham as "wimp" for his efforts to save the sinners of Sodom, he called Jesus a rebellious brat for leaving his parents in Jerusalem and spent hours excoriating the audience as a bunch of peanut brains, and asking whether only he and God actually "got it". He also declared that the door to grace is shut and that no one else was going to be saved, and that everyone who was going to be saved had been saved. His message was filled with hate and anger.
After the service, I walked up to Stair and asked him to sign my petition against abortion. He declined saying that he believed abortion to be the Will of God. My dad came up to Stair to talk to him. He mentioned that they were both supposed to be prophets. Stair objected even to this saying, "I'm a major prophet, you're a minor prophet." With this, my dad laughed and walked away.
In 22 years of Christian life, dad had never felt unclean after a church service until that day. We all went home and took showers. Dad knew in his heart that he needed to go back but he didn't want to subject his family to another one of R.G. Stair's "services" so he left us at our motel room.
Things didn't go well. In the middle of the service, the dad went to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, dad heard the brother sponsoring the event asking people to come up, shake Stair's hand and support him. Dad hadn't and when he returned Stair called Dad out in the middle of the meeting. He declared that he knew my dad's message better than he did and asked whether he stood with him or against him. Dad replied simply, "I won't stand with hate."
"Then get out!" replied Stair.
Dad replied that it wasn't Stair's place to throw him out of the meeting, as he hadn't invited him. Stair then ordered the sponsor of the event to throw dad out. The sponsor complied and after admonishing the sponsor for his breach of hospitality, dad began to leave. Stair commanded dad to shake the dust off his feet but dad refused to obey him.
"Well, aren't you going to shake the dust off your feet?" said Stairs.
"Why would I do that?" asked my dad. "You've accepted the message and that I'm a prophet."
"Well, then," said Stairs. "We reject the message!"
Dad said, "Oh really?" and laughed. He then turned around and gave Stairs a cryptic warning, telling him that he had "two steps left." Recently Stairs has been arrested on allegations of sex crimes in South Carolina.
In 1992, we settled down in Montana and dad threw himself into the pro-life movement. Our family infused some activity into the local pro-life movement. Before our joining the group in October, 1992, Flathead Pro-Life held two pickets per month at the abortionist's office. At our peak, we were holding more 20 pickets per month at the abortionist's office, his house, and his church, as well as the office of Senator Max Baucus (D-MT).
Dad was a key vocal point of this effort. It was dad who would engage pro-abortionists who came by the pickets. It was dad who would encourage us to look at hecklers in a new light. During the course of our pickets, we would generally get around thirty hecklers per day. The hecklers would make intelligent arguments such as "Get a life", "Get a job", and "Go home". Dad encouraged us to laugh at hekclers and not let them intimidate us.
In 1995 we moved to Martin City, and later that year we moved to Eureka. We moved back to Kalispell in 1999.
Over the course of these years in Montana, I remember several things about my dad.
I remember how he was always there for me. He was at every speech, academic bowl match, and basketball game. I remember him helping me in my impossible effort to get Alan Keyes on the ballot in 1996. Dad has never been too busy for me. He's always made time for me no matter what else was going on in his life.
I remember having trouble breathing during my trip to Columbus where I met my future bride. As I lay on her parent's couch scared I was dying, I knew who to call. Dad. He told me I was hyperventilating and saved me a trip to the emergency room.
We've had our fights and our struggles. He's not perfect, and neither am I. Still, I look back at my life and I remember those dusty roads, those four lane freeways, where the world would zoom by at 65 MPH. I remember my dad and all he meant and still means to me. Through the years and the tears, we've been together and he's had a definite impact on my life.
Now that I'm married and on my own, I notice that I'm beginning to show forth some dad-like traits. Although, in reality, it will save me no more than six cents, it matters to me whether I get gas at $1.31 or $1.32 .
I have a habit of stocking up whenever I see a sale, thus my wife and I now have enough Jello and pudding to last us through the entire tribulation.
We're also very different in many ways. Though we may have different views on some issues, different abilities, and different areas of knowledge, we share at least one thing, a love for one another that goes beyond all the difficulties and problems we've had in the past and may have in the future.
This page isn't a complete biography of my dad. There is much more that could be told, if I had the time and could do his stories justice. Rather, this page is a glimpse at my dad as I see him and a tribute to him on his sixtieth birthday. I probably haven't gotten everything right, or said it exactly perfect but it's what I remember.
So, with love and gratitude for everything he's done for me over the course of my life, I wish my dad a happy 60th birthday.
Dad has seen my brother Joshua and I grow up. Below are some pictures of us:
The 90s
