October 1973–Hawaii and a New Moon

Watershed, splitting of the sea, ascending from the pit—all metaphors expressing dramatic change. So also was my Hawaii experience. It’s like my life can be expressed pre-October 1973 and post-October 1973. It all happened on the Big Island of Hawaii.

But before I start reminiscing, let me say that although I will mostly be making personal observations, the blessing of Hawaii was a corporate, family impact. My wife, my children, and my extended family were all involved in and affected by that month in 1973. You might say there was life BH and AH for all of us—Before Hawaii and After Hawaii—both hinging on the month of October. More accurately it could be expressed as BJ and AJ, the J being Jesus. That description, as we’d say in Hawaiian Pidgin, would be “mo betta.”

Although it would be approximately thirty-five years before I would recognize it, October 1973 was split on the Hebrew calendar between the lunar months of Tishri and Cheshvan in the biblical year 5734. The 27th day of October, the pivotal day, on the Gregorian calendar was the first day of Cheshvan and the celebration of a new moon on God’s lunar calendar. Another fitting metaphor for the significance of this day in my life.

How then did I come to be on the Big Island of Hawaii on the epochal day in 1973? I had not been there long, arriving a couple of months earlier on the island with my family: my wife and four children ranging in age from two to fourteen years. My wife of eighteen years was 37, I was 43.

We had flown from Tucson, Arizona which had been the total of our little family’s life experience up to that time. The motivation we communicated for our leaving the good life was the challenge of a family adventure. We’d be gone for a year and then return to Tucson. While this was partly true, the providential October 27th was to completely alter “the best-laid plans.”

By 1973, our eighteen years of marriage pretty much patterned the American work ethic profile of struggling success. We were both at the University of Arizona for the first two years of marriage, completing degrees. We both worked part-time to meet the financial needs of married life. With graduation came employment for each and substantial economic improvement. New house, growing prosperity, children. The dreamed-of lifestyle was shaping up.

24 ft Fiberform Cabin Cruiser

310 Yavapai Rd, Tucson

Despite the predictable pattern of progress, Janelle experienced an undercurrent of spiritual unrest. It manifested in several ways, culminating in 1973 with the family chanting and practicing kundalini yoga. I followed my wife’s lead, weaving in and out of my wife’s spiritual pursuits, basically accepting without question.

The “word” on our spiritual street had been intensifying: a significant downturn in the economy, food shortages, loss of electricity and basic services were approaching. This “prophetic alert” motivated me to get the family to a self-sustaining venue—the birth of the plan for the great adventure.

Very few, if any, of our family or friends would be convinced of the prophesied scenario, so that was not advertised as a motivation for the adventure. Lay it up to a mid-life crisis on my part—the forties syndrome, which in hindsight, it was.

As stated, the first leg of the adventure began with our flight to the Big Island of Hawaii, disembarking at the Hilo airport. Each of us six had a personal footlocker containing the total belongings of each plus two trunks containing the necessities of shelter and sustenance for the family. The adventure had begun.

Other Storyworth articles will contain a chronology of our time leading up to October 1973 and the Hawaii years following. This article is to be centered on what pivotal impact my Hawaii experience had on my life.

For me the 27th of October is critical, but another October date must be discussed first. Janelle essentially performed two roles in the family. These roles were the basic job description of a good many American wives: family spiritual director and family natural health practitioner.

Janelle performed these two roles well. As health practitioner, she was always looking for a source of healthy food. In Tucson, this search led to the organization of Ganga Groceries, a cooperative for the purchase of healthy local produce. Now in Hawaii, it led us to a store we had heard of on the Kona side of the island. We were living in Waimea by then, halfway between Hilo and Kona.

This food outlet turned out to be run by a group called The Fellowship of Christian Pilgrims. This group of mostly late teens and twenty-year-olds consisted primarily of ex-druggies who had dropped out from the mainland to the Big Island. They were now Spirit-filled Christians, although at the time of this first visit in 1973, we didn’t have a clue as to the meaning of “Spirit-filed.” 

In addition to the healthy food offered by the store, Janelle’s other family role was also triggered. She saw a sign about a meeting the store group sponsored in a beach pavilion on the 13th of October. Her spiritual nose quivered as she read the sign’s promise of spiritual expectation.

It was no surprise then to find Jennifer, our 14-year-old daughter, Janelle, and me sitting in the audience in that beach pavilion by the Pacific Ocean on the night of 13 October 1973. That night Janelle’s life was forevermore changed as she answered the knocking of Jesus on the door of her heart.

You may, by now, be guessing what prompted all the metaphors in the first paragraph describing the October 1973 event that would forever indelibly change my life.

Two weeks later, on October 27, 1973, Janelle and I found ourselves again in a Pilgrim meeting. This time not in a pavilion on the beach, but in the living room of the house of one of the members. Thirty or so others, besides the two of us, were hearing a young Jewish believer deliver a teaching.

Interestingly, on the 45-minute drive from Waimea to Kona, my spirit must have suspected something was up. As we drove by a ranch named Puu Waa Waa (“Hill of many canoes” in

Pu’u Wa’awa’a

Hawaiian) which in old Hawaii had been the dwelling site for many Hawaiian witch doctors, I had a thought: “Nothing’s gonna happen to me!” This thought must have been prompted by my recollection of Janelle’s “antics” of two weeks earlier: pushing her way to the front, falling to the floor, surrounded by excited folks, clapping, and praising. Nothing was gonna happen to me.

As it so happened, I was wrong! By the time the sermon was over and a “call for salvation” was made, I was ready and about to answer when a young man frantically raised his hand and burst forth with a testimony. The moment for me had passed. Or, did it?

The meeting ended with no more opportunity for me to respond. We were gathering around snacks, some were talking to Janelle. I was casually following the conversation. It was decided Janelle needed baptism in the Holy Spirit.

I was confronted also and suddenly the Light was turned back on. I was then seated in a chair, led in confession, and repentance. With hands raised, I sought the Spirit. He was faithful, giving me an involuntary, high-pitched, sustained release of sound. The lifting of the burden of sin from my spirit and soul was palpable.

And so, on October 27, 1973, I entered the Kingdom of God, a blood-bought child of God. As I was to learn much later, this was also the first of Cheshvan, the new moon celebration of God’s faithfulness to have seen His creation through another lunar cycle.  That new moon would become yet another metaphor for the growth that was to follow. My prayer is that when I gain my heavenly rest, I’ll still be celebrating that harvest moon.

A lot of stories precede and follow October 1973, but the 27th of that month will forever ultimately define my Hawaii experience.

Brown Clan, 1973