On Turning Twenty-Five

A quarter-century ago, I was climbing Minnesota trees, reading Dick and Jane books, and determinedly mastering the skill of riding my banana-seated purple bike without training wheels.

My family did not own a television in those days, but the radio was often playing.  Children's Bible Hour, Ranger Bill, Jungle Jam, and later Adventures in Odyssey—these provided the wholesome, imaginative soundtrack of my childhood.

As I was wobbling down the sidewalk, free of training wheels at last, something special was happening in Provo, Utah.  A group of Christians was taking the reins of a debt-ridden AM radio station, intent on establishing it as a beacon of truth in a valley where less than 1% of the population shared their faith in Jesus.

KEYY, 1450 AM in Provo, had been a popular rock-n-roll station for a couple decades until it faced financial ruin in the mid-1980s.  Then in 1987 it came into the possession of a man who reinvented it as a station which aired primarily Bible teaching.  The following year, Biblical Ministries Worldwide acquired the station with the purpose of using it to share God's grace and assist church-planting missionaries in the area.

I had, of course, no idea what was going on in 1988 in Provo, Utah.  (Where was Utah, anyway?  Who cares; did you see me ride my bike?!)  But now I can see how the Lord was preparing me for joining the team in Utah, investing in radio ministry which had been so special to me even as a kid.  I love what I do.  I am convinced of its value to the kingdom.  There is nowhere I'd rather be than Provo and KEY Radio.  Well—except for heaven.

Today marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of BMW's operating KEY Radio.  Larger organizations would have banquets and speeches and commemorative Rolex watches distributed to their well-paid employees.  For us, the anniversary arrives with little fanfare.  Unpaid bills sit at the bookkeeping computer; Rolexes are out of the question.

There are a few things we're doing to commemorate the milestone.  For one: airing the intriguing first-hand story of a young man who left his polygamist religion for a relationship with Jesus, largely as a result of listening to KEY Radio.  Listen here and rejoice with us: God is using radio to reach lost souls.  He is good.  His kingdom advances—even in Provo, Utah.

Happy 25th, KEY Radio!  To God be the glory.

The Grace Awakening

 

I am stoked about this series now airing on KEY Radio.  Dr. Chuck Swindoll is a marvelous communicator, and this subject matter is life-changing.  I wish every person I know would awaken to God's grace

—LDS and Christians alike.  Including myself.

If you can't listen to KEY Radio in Utah, you can listen online anywhere.  Times listed are MST.  Or, listen on-demand and find out more here.

Here's a teaser to get you thinking: what is grace?  And how do we live it?

Radio and the Immediacy of God's Word

Recently I posed the question on KEY Radio’s Facebook page: Fill in the blank: “I listen to the radio while _____.”  What would you have answered?  Responses from Facebook users included, “driving,” “working,” “driving and washing dishes,” and, “driving, running and cleaning.”

These responses reminded me of God’s instruction to the children of Israel: You shall teach [My words] to your sons, talking of them when you sit in your house and when you walk along the road and when you lie down and when you rise up (Deuteronomy 11:19 NASB).

The ancient Jewish people were told to incorporate the learning and applying of God’s word into every activity, no matter how mundane.  Isn't this still the best way to live?  Use of Scripture should not be confined to an hour on Sunday, nor to those times when we reach desperation.  God’s word holds power, wisdom, comfort, hope—why would we not access that frequently throughout each day?

Driving a car, of course, was unknown to the Israelites.  So was radio.  But I can’t help but think that there’s a modern-day parallel here.  In streets and highways, in homes and workplaces across Utah (in this case), over half a million people can flip a switch and hear clear, compassionate Bible-based programs and music.  We listen as we drive, wash dishes, go for a run, or clean our houses.  In so doing, the mundane becomes eternally significant.

The Adventures of a Station-Sitter

Here I am in the control room at KEYY!

Living at a radio station means rarely is there a dull moment. Case in point... I was staying here alone for several days while the Barsuhns took a vacation. It was a fairly uneventful week until this morning when I woke up at 6:12 to a frightening BEEP-beep-BEEP-beep. Too loud to be my alarm clock. It took me a moment to comprehend what was going on. This place has more alarms rigged up than a penitentiary: one for "dead air," another for the Emergency Alert System and Amber Alert; and then there's the motion sensors, and of course the fire alarm and the carbon monoxide alarm--even one signaling mail has been deposited in the box outside--although it hasn't been working lately. But the beeping I heard was none of these; it was the dreaded Intruder Alarm, set off when someone enters the building without disarming the security system. An unknown person was in the radio station and I alone was there to defend it. Of course I could've investigated, or at least called out to ask who was there. But those very logical options seemed like very illogical death-wishes at the moment. So...I did the less-than-heroic thing and stayed in my room with the door locked and tremulously dialed Chris on my cell phone. I woke him up. "The intruder alarm went off... I don't know who's here..." I tried to sound very ho-hum about it all but really I meant: "HELP! Save me from the axe murder standing outside my door!" and I think Chris read my mind. He hurried over from his home a few blocks away. I was more than ready to let him be the hero. As I waited, I contemplated how best to respond if the intruder were to break into my bedroom: stand and fight with my curling iron? Or fall at his feet and plead for mercy? Thankfully, I didn't have to decide. Turns out, the "intruder" was just the local pastor who comes once a week to record his messages that are later played on the air. He didn't know that the switch to disarm the security system had been moved and thus he was unable to prevent the hair-raising ordeal for me. What possessed him in the first place to record his sermon at the unearthly hour of 6:00 on a Saturday morning is beyond me. I am simply grateful for the following: locks on doors, cell phones, curling irons, and Reader's Digest-type everyday heroes (you're the best, Chris!).