The First Baptist Church of Bellflower -- Really Saved -- 1

This picture is of Bay View Church -- No picture of Bellflower Available

I mentioned some of the bad things about FBC Bellflower in a couple of postings -- my descent into the Belly of the Whale. But I don't know what my life would be like if it hadn't been for the church. In my title I mentioned salvation and yes, I accepted Jesus and was baptized at FBC Bellflower in 1948; I was 10 (almost 11). My cousins, Gene and Janice also accepted the Lord at the same children's evangelism service. We were baptized by Rev. Ernest Hasselblad. I will talk more about him in a later post. My baptism, not only brought me into the church but my parents also became active in the church. I may have mentioned earlier, but my parents were baptists and met at church. But throughout our years of travel, we went to church very irregularly. 

Both of my parents were there every Sunday. They both sang in the choir. I went to the children's program. I sat on the front row at worship services and I heard from my dad after church if I misbehaved. My dad actually became the Chair of the Building Committee that built the present church building. Then, in the Fall of 1949, when I was in the Seventh Grade, my Father left home. He was infatuated with his secretary. My mother fell apart and I was adrift.

Let me give a little background on my life thus far. I will only give my school years:

• First Grade 
• Galesburg, Illinois
• Oak Ridge, Tennessee
• Oak Ridge, Tennessee -- another school
• Gainesville, Georgia
• Second Grade
• Danville, California (all schools for now on are in California)
• Concord -- an all 8 grades in one room, country school
• Livermore -- same kind of school as above
• Third Grade
• Started at the same Livermore country school
• Livermore -- city school system
• Fourth Grade
• Corona 
• Oceanside
• Corona -- another school
• Fifth Grade
• Compton
• Gardena
• Bellflower -- from then on I was in Bellflower

The point of all this is to say that I didn't have a lot of "life-time" friends. I really didn't know many people from school. Then, as mentioned before, my family fell apart in 1949. I had been a quiet, intelligent child and did well in school. Then (Jr. High is bad enough when things are going well) after dad left, I began to act out in school. I was terrible in Jr. High. I also lost interest in church -- but my mother made me go. She insisted that I go to the Jr. High youth group. I did and something weird happened. They elected me President of the Group! I must admit that it never occurred to me that no one else wanted to do it. I thought I was popular. Then, Eleanor, my wife's sister, was elected as Vice President. We became life-long friends.

The youth group was strong in the church. We had a High School group of around 50 kids. Without the church I would have had no social life. I was not bullied at school and knew a lot of kids, but I didn't hang with them. It was the church that provided me with all of my friends. I was actually popular there. This is what I meant when I said that the church was my salvation. 

In my next posting I will discuss the church and my love for music. 

Bellflower the Friendly City

In my last two posts, I painted a rather negative picture of First Baptist Church of Bellflower and the city itself. What I report was true, but it was only part of the story. I want to correct the impression that I left. In this post I will tell what a great place Bellflower was for me in growing up. My next post will deal with the good side of First Baptist Church.

Bellflower, like many of the cities in California was once a site of old Spanish Land Grant Ranchos. As the Ranchos sold, the buyers bought for primarily agricultural reasons. It wasn't until the early 1920s that Bellflower began to develop a residential area. The impetus for building a residential section was the extension of the Red Car Railroad (Pacific Electric) to Santa Ana. The tracks went through Bellflower and a terminal was built there. The dairy industry began to grow in importance as Dutch families began to settle in the region. My earliest memories of living was there was the "pleasant" aroma of the dairies in the humid, foggy air. During the Fall and Winter, it was foggy a lot. At high school football games, we were sometimes called Smell Flower. It was an apt title. Much of the area that would soon become great shopping malls was all bean fields. It wasn't incorporated as a city until 1957.

One of my early memories brought home to me the importance of the Dutch population. I am not sure what year this was -- probably 1949 or 1950 -- Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands on her visit to the United States visited Holland, Michigan and Bellflower, California. I remember watching the parade down Bellflower Blvd. and seeing the queen waving at the people. In my last post I wrote that the town was very white, and it was, but that was not the whole story; we did have a significant Hispanic population and many Japanese also.

Well, why are my memories so positive? I was raised somewhat like a child of migrant workers for the first 10 years of my life. I was born during depression years and my father traveled to find work. When WWII started, the only construction jobs were for the military, so we traveled where the jobs were. 

• 1937-1941
• Cincinnati, Ohio
• Miami, Florida
• Knoxville, Tennessee
• Cincinnati, Ohio
• 1941-Spring 1944
• Franklin, Indiana
• Leesville, Louisiana
• Galesburg, Illinois -- started school
• Oak Ridge, Tennessee
• Gainsville, Georgia -- Finished 1st Grade
• 1944 -- Moved to California
• Concord
• 1945 
• Livermore
• 1946
• Livermore
• Corona
• 1947
• Oceanside
• Corona
• Compton
• Gardena
• April, 1948 -- Finally -- Bellflower

Even though I was born in Cincinnati, Bellflower is my hometown. We finally had an actual house to live in. I mean a house that is more than one room, not a motel, not a trailer -- and it had electricity, running water and indoor plumbing. I lived at 9437 Harvard St. in Bellflower from 1948 until 1960 when I joined the Navy. This is my home of record. Unless you have grown up on the road as I did, I don't think you can understand what being rooted in one place meant to me. I could finally make friends -- and I did. I really love Bellflower. It is the place where I began to grow and flourish.

Bellflower was a quiet place. The population was around 20,000 and growing. I was able to ride my bike anywhere in town. I don't remember any crime there. Of course this was the 50s. For $0.14 you could go to the matinee at the Nubel theater -- double feature, cartoon, newsreel and a serial. Not bad. During the high school years, we used to cruise up and down Bellflower Blvd. We would hang out at the Clock drive in. Even though the film "American Graffiti" takes place in the 60s, this was the 50s in Bellflower. This was my life up until 1955. Then I began to expand my horizons. I moved on campus at UCLA, but Bellflower was still home.

Since I met my wife in Bellflower, my mom lived there, and Linda's parents lived there, we were connected to Bellflower really until their deaths. We began to feel like Chula Vista was home sometime in the late 60s and 70s. 

Another Church Incident on my way Down

The second incident at First Baptist Church in Bellflower that helped me on my way down into the Belly of the Whale actually occurred in 1960, shortly before I joined the Navy. I was in Graduate School at UCLA, but I came home regularly. I was selected as President of the Youth Council -- an over-arching team that oversaw all ages and aspects of our youth group; Jr. Hi through College. I actually functioned as a kind of Assistant Youth Director. One of our programs was an athletic program between churches; flag football, basketball and volleyball. 

We had a winning flag football team was a rousing success because we were able to recruit a number of players from nearby Cerritos Jr. College -- they were the Junior Rose Bowl champions that year. Back in the old days, the local Two Year (Junior) Colleges actually participated in a Rose Bowl game called the Jr. Rose Bowl game. This recruitment of ringers not only helped us to win games, but this was an "evangelistic program." All participants in the game were required to attend church regularly. This seemed like a win-win situation to me.

The problem came when Basketball Season began. I had a friend who was a new Christian and had just begun to come to the church. He knew a lot of the people at Long Beach Jr. College. He asked me if he should try to recruit some of the basketball team. Wow, why not -- another potential win-win. He was successful, we got a few players who were willing to attend church and play on our team. Well, they showed up on Sunday morning. I received a call from the pastor! "You have to correct this situation. Those men can't be a part of the church. You have to tell them that they can't be on the basketball team." I asked why. Unfortunately those young men had the wrong skin color. They were black. I was appalled! Yet, to a shame that I still feel, I told those young men that they weren't welcome at our church. I was mad at myself, but I was also mad at the church. How could they.

I suppose that I should also tell about the context. The motto of FBC Bellflower was "A Friendly Church in the heart of a Friendly Town." Sounds good -- and to some extent true. The problem was that the town wasn't friendly if you weren't white -- although they did tolerate some Latinos. The town was a dairy town settled by the Dutch. My school was filled with Van this and Van that. Lot's of blond hair and blue eyes. Growing up I didn't even think about this. I don't think I ever personally came into contact with any black people. As a side note, one of my good friends in High School went to UCLA with me and pledged a fraternity. I asked him how he could get into that frat -- they are Jewish. Well, so was he. UCLA changed me and opened my eyes. 

Bellflower is different now and so is the church. But, this event was one more thing that helped me to decide that I wanted nothing to do with a career in the church. I really did not want to be the pastor of a church. 

Lost

Wow, I have really neglected this blog. Especially after stating that this was important to me. The problem is that I have neglected writing in general for quite some time -- but excuses are for a different venue. My last post was titled "Found." This one is "Lost." 

I grew up in one of those households where I never doubted God. I think I always believed in Jesus. We didn't attend church much because we were migrant workers during WWII -- Really! After the war, we settled in Bellflower and began to attend the First Baptist Church. We became quite active.My dad was the chairman of the building committee that built the sanctuary still in use today -- yet in the middle of the building program, he became enamored with another woman and left our family. I was president of the Jr. High School youth group and later president of the High School group. My mother was active with the women. When the money from my father dried up, she became the pastor's secretary at the princely salary of $40 a week -- not much even in the early 50s. 

One of the duties of my mom as the pastor's secretary was to attend cabinet meetings where the pastor, staff and major leaders of the church would gather. I can't remember whether this happened in 1953 or 1954 -- but I was in High School. In November, the cabinet was discussing how many Christmas Baskets they could purchase and distribute to the needy in town. My mom told them that we were really in need ourselves and that we could really use one of those baskets. She was told that that would be a conflict of interest -- they couldn't give such a gift to one of the people of the church, especially one involved in the meeting where this decision was made. Mom was devastated, but she was loyal to the pastor and the church; she kept at her post as secretary. I was pretty upset -- I thought, "Is this what church is supposed to be? Aren't we supposed to take care of one another?" I was beginning my descent into the Belly of the Whale.

Wait, the story doesn't end there. Guess what Mom and I did on Christmas eve? Yes, you guessed it! Mom and I traveled throughout the town with a car loaded with Christmas baskets. We spent most of the day distributing them. Certainly the leaders of the church couldn't be bothered with such a mundane matter. Mom was just an employee of the church -- after all she was getting well paid for doing such a thing. I personally was disgusted! We were able to get a little miniature Christmas tree and enjoyed hamburgers for Christmas dinner. Merry Christmas! Your church loves you. Do I sound bitter? I am not any more, but I was at the time. I would have probably left the church except for the fact that all of my social life was centered in the church.

One last thing that must be said is that First Baptist Church of Bellflower was a good church. The people were good people but they didn't really get it. They were locked into a certain way of thinking. There were many things that contributed to my slide into the Belly -- but this is probably the earliest one. Of course the lesson for the church is obvious. There is lesson there for those of us who feel mistreated. We have to learn to look to Jesus -- not always easy when one is just learning.

Found!

I was found early in 1971. I wasn't literally in the belly of a whale -- but I was lost. I was a Christian. Jonah was a prophet of the Lord, yet both us got lost. Linda and I were already members of First Baptist Church of Chula Vista. I left for a year in Danang, Vietnam on Dec. 26, 1969. My wife sent tapes to me (yes, that is how we communicated in those days.) She was trying to encourage me, but her news made me feel more lost than ever. First she told me that she had experienced the "baptism of the Spirit." This was good, but I still didn't know how I felt about all of this "tongues speaking" stuff. Second she said that the church was experiencing a revival among young people. Lots of young hippies were beginning to come to church. She mentioned the word, Jesus People. Now, I wasn't sure I wanted to attend with all of the long-haired, unwashed, anti-war hippies. They weren't my kind of people. Linda almost finished it off when she told me about people living in community households (aka communes.) These people were also commies!

I returned from Vietnam on Dec. 15, 1970. After Christmas at our parent's home in Bellflower, we returned to Chula Vista. Linda said that we could really see what was happening if we went to an evening service. I got dressed in my suit and tie -- of course with a military haircut -- and we went to church. I was impressed with the number of people coming to church, in spite of their long hair. I must confess that I was uncomfortable though. Then I looked toward the front of the church. I saw this guy with long hair looking somewhat like Sonny Bono and he was wearing a navy dungaree shirt complete with second class petty officer chevrons. The Lieutenant Commander in me was very agitated. I considered going up to him, but I held my peace. I was there to observe. Then he saw me and came right up to me and said, "You are Dick Hensgen aren't you?" I replied that I was (I was much nicer than I really felt in side.) Then he said, "I have been praying for you. I am a Vietnam vet also." He than threw his arms around me and said, "Welcome home." My hear melted. God found me. I was home and I have never been the same.

Note -- the picture is not directly involved with this story. It is one of the community household at FBCCV.

Jonah and Me

I have been thinking about this blog for a long time. I named it God in the Belly of the Whale because of the picture painted in the story of Jonah. Jonah was called by God to be a prophet to the city of Nineveh. He was to call them to repentance. This was something that Jonah didn't want to do. Why? Well Nineveh was seen as the arch enemy of Israel. As the capitol of the Assyrian Empire, they were trying to conquer Israel and take everyone into captivity. So, Jonah, being bright like many of us, decided to run from God. He caught a boat heading to the "ends of the earth," Tarshish. He really thought that he could run away from God.

Well, Jonah found out that God knew exactly where he was, what he was doing, and why he was doing it. When Jonah boarded the boat, he went down as low in the vessel as he could and went to sleep. Meanwhile, topside, the Lord sent a violent storm. The ship was tossed around and was in danger of sinking. The sailors were terrified. The captain went down and awakened Jonah with the plea, "Help, we are sinking, call on your god to see if he can help us." As a sailor myself, the thing that puzzles me here is how on earth Jonah was able to stay asleep down there -- and keep from getting seasick -- but that is really not part of the story. The sailors decided to cast lots to find out who was to blame for this storm. The lot singled out Jonah. "What did you do to offend your god," they asked. Jonah answered first by testifying to the power of Yahweh -- the God of the heavens, who made the sea and the dry land Then he told the story. He told them that if they threw him overboard, the storm would calm down. They threw him overboard and the storm was over.

Then the story gets interesting. God created a large fish (actually not a whale -- even though that's how we usually picture it -- or title a blog for that matter) and that fish swallowed Jonah. He was in the fish for three days and nights. It was here that Jonah really found God. He prayed for deliverance and then surrendered. After his surrender, the fish spit him out on to dry land. Now Jonah was ready to do what God had told him to do in the first place. Of course the story of Jonah doesn't end there, but this is where the story stops in how this affects my life.

I am a lot like Jonah. This blog is my story. It is a story of a long time of running from God followed by some tough times leading to repentance. The repentance led to surrender and life change. Ever since this life change, I have walked in God's blessings. Of course, the story is not a fairy tale so I can't say that everything that has happened since this change of life has been good -- but I have grown and have become more of what God has called me to be. 

I intend to write regularly -- at least once per week. I will start with the call that God gave me while still a teenager. Then I will write stories out of my life to illustrate my run from God, the way God caught me, my dilemma, repentance, surrender followed by my change of life. The story is about God -- yet it is a very personal story for me for I was the one in the middle.