“I started to let my hair grow just before I officially separated from the Corps. I knew that I was pushing regulations, and kept the length hidden under my cover (cap) and tucked behind my ears for inspections, but I didn’t think anybody would make a big deal about it because my time was short. Then, for the first time in my life, I was wrong. (Well, maybe the second time!)

“My final day as an active duty Marine came on December 26, 1986. I spit- shined my boots, pressed my uniform and went to the administration building to sign out.   There I was, standing at the counter to sign my final paperwork and pick up my separation pay, moments away from completing my service and commitment. As I took my cover off a gunnery sergeant from in back of the room passing through saw me and barked at me. “Hey Marine! That’s not a regulation haircut.”

“I know,” I said respectfully, “but I’m getting out right now.”

“No, you’re not! Not until you get a regulation haircut.”

“I couldn’t believe what I saw as his audacity to nit-pick my hair! Everything else about me was squared away, but he zoned in on my hair!

“Hey Gunny,” I repeated with a tense smile, “I’m right here to sign my papers to get out.”

“Not with that hair, Marine.” And he dug into his position.

“I could feel the rage against this man building inside of me. One of my buddies grabbed me, took me outside saying, “Kennedy, it ain’t worth it.”

“I’m gonna break this guy in half!” I spat.

“I told you it ain’t worth it. Just go get a little trim.”

“Reluctantly, I went to the PX barbershop, still angry about being hassled by the gunnery sergeant. Driving to the barber, I offered a “bullet prayer” to God but strangely enough I noticed that God was beginning to soften my heart. By the time I sat in the barber’s chair I actually had a peace that could only come from God.

“I’m getting out today and they won’t let me go until I get a haircut,” I explained.

“Okay,” the barber said. “So you only want it trimmed a little.”

“No. Give me a full regulation Marine Corps haircut,” I insisted.

“All right.; if that’s the way you want it.”

“The barber did his thing, and then  I went back  to the gunnery sergeant to do mine.

“I went straight back to the administration building, walked past the front counter and proceeded to walk back to the desk of the gunnery sergeant who gave me grief about my hair. The tension in the room grew with each advancing step I made toward him. Everyone must have thought that “Thumper” was going to blow and the loose cannon was ready to explode!

“When I stood in front of his desk I was completely squared away. I put my fists on his desk, leaned forward, and he leaned back.

“Is this regulation haircut satisfactory, Gunnery Sergeant?”

“It looks good, Marine,” he mumbled.

“Let me tell you something,” I said. “Before I would’ve jumped up and busted you in half for making me get a haircut. But now I’m gonna tell you that I love you, man.”

“The guy just stared at me. He was obviously surprised.

“I continued, “I love you because of the love Jesus Christ has shown me. You were right, and now I can leave the Corps like I should.”

“He didn’t know how to respond. Stumbling he said, “Uh, that’s nice. That’s great. Okay.”

“I picked up my papers and left as a civilian for the first time in three years. The Marines had been good for me and I was in a better place than ever before. Semper Fidelis. Always faithful. But even better, I was learning to be faithful to God. Because He had been so faithful to me.”

- Excerpt from The Victor Marx Story: With God All Things Are Possible

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Tribute from a son to his dad

Murrieta, California, February 14, 2013: It’s a funny thing sitting here, actually fully immersed in the moment that I have rehearsed in my head many, many times. The moment I find out my dad has gone Home. I got the call at exactly 1:41 am on February 14th, 2013.  I was not asleep but actually wide awake, visiting with my wife after a wonderful evening dinner and an earlier call from my dad’s sweet wife of 15 years who called me from his phone at 6:38 pm on the evening of the 13th.  She was alarmed and concerned as he had a pretty rough afternoon between 3:00 and 6:00. Apparently he had blacked out but seemed okay outside of some odd behavior.  She told me he then, for the first time in their 15 years of marriage, said he was going to bed around 6:30 pm. He was struggling with a bout of old anxiety, his lifetime foe and surely his thorn in the flesh. He said he always looked at this challenge as a person and real enemy and instead of being defeated he used it to make him a prayer warrior and that, I can say, he surely was. Kathy helped his pain-riddled body to bed, tucked him in nice and comfy and put on the only radio station he listed to: Christian Bible teaching and worship. He was able to settle in and drift to sleep after wrestling with his CPAP machine.  Then our Heavenly Father granted my dad his request to come take him home in his sleep. His wife would find him already gone. She tried to resuscitate him but God’s will had already been done.

I have always wondered how I would react or respond to my Dad’s death. I can write that I feel a sense of gratitude toward the Lord and that His name is worthy to be praised; that Heaven is more real to me now then it was a few hours ago; that the truth is like I heard Greg Laurie say live yesterday on the radio with Pastor Chuck, that our days are numbered which I really, really got it in a new way. That we do not have to fear or worry about death but only live fully knowing when our service to the Lord is complete on this earth, that He will bring us, usher us, grant us the most magnificent Homecoming and grand entrance. A Homecoming that instantly relieves us of all pain, suffering, torment, worry, insecurity, fear, replaced with a permanent peace, comfort, and love that have all been fulfilled by our living Hope Jesus and His death on the Cross and resurrection.

I lay here typing thinking what is he seeing right now; my dad’s new eyes are able to fully and completely look upon the Throne of God and embrace his Savior, the One who delivered him from a life of sin, and now has transformed his corruption into incorruption. My eyes fill with tears trying to type, my jaws tightening a bit knowing full well my dad has fallen on his knees and is overwhelmed by the Lord’s Love, amazing Love. Looking up he is being greeted and jumped on by the hundreds of those whom he had boldly proclaimed his faith to in person and I’m sure the thousands indirectly through prayers and our film that have gone before him.

“Oh death,” I say, “Where is your sting? Your brief appearance at my father’s bed was the last perception of sin he would be bothered with but for a moment; and you, Satan, did not win by the death of a saint, a warrior.  No! You lost because his race has been run, his battles all fought, and he got the last word – YES LORD!! as he heard Jesus say, ‘Welcome Home, good and faithful servant, enter into your rest!’”

Thank you, dad, for bringing me to know the love of our Heavenly Father by rejecting passivity, accepting responsibility, warring for me to come to salvation on June 22nd, 1986. Thank you for allowing me to change my last name back to yours and carry on our family name and legacy; for being my best man in my wedding; for teaching me and training me in Keichu-Do which you created; for helping me become a man; for always being there for me with an instant prayer and those amazing healing prayers of peace that NEVER once failed to comfort me in my greatest times of struggle; for your laughter and love for the Lord.

Kathy said your Bible was open to Jeremiah 11 & 12. Oh, how you loved the Scriptures and also how you prayed with her every night for 15 years before bed.

I love ya’ daddy and I do already miss the thought of calling or seeing you but I am motivated and empowered to continue running my race and fighting for the Lord’s Kingdom for souls as my father before me.

Thank you for being a faithful follower of Christ, a faithful husband, and the best dad an adult son could have asked for!

Your little boy, who ain’t so little, your son,

Vic

Question: How can I be a better father? I’m afraid my own father wasn’t a very good model for me to follow, but I’m not sure I know how to do it any better. I love my two boys very much, and I want to be a good example for them to follow, especially as I think about Father’s Day. — R.K.

Answer from Billy Graham: I commend you for wanting to be a good father; almost nothing else in life is more important for you. May we not only honor our own fathers on this Father’s Day, but may those of us who are fathers rededicate ourselves to this God-given responsibility.

Obviously I can’t say everything in a few short paragraphs—but let me say two things. First, be an example of love both to them and your wife. Tell them you love them, and show them by your affection and your actions. Spend time with them and let them know they are very important to you. Be patient with them also; it may be more efficient to do a job around the house by yourself, but let them help whenever you can.

Remember also that love sometimes has to say “no”; part of your love for your children means teaching them right and wrong. Don’t be harsh or unreasonable, however. The Bible says, “Don’t make your children angry by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction approved by the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4, NLT).

Second, be an example to them of faith. God loves your children, and He gave them to you. Do they see Christ in you, and are you teaching them about His love? Make sure of your own commitment to Christ, and then make it your goal to point them to God, their Heavenly Father. – from Billy Graham’s My Answer

This poem has been such a great encouragement to me, and to so many people I’ve met. I hope it blesses you as well! — Victor

You Are Who You Are For A Reason

by Russell Kelfer

You are who you are for a reason. You’re part of an intricate plan.

You’re a precious and perfect unique design, called God’s special woman or man.

You look like you look for a reason. Our God made no mistake.

He knit you together within the womb. You’re just what He wanted to make.

The parents you had were the ones He chose, and no matter how you may feel,

They were custom-designed with God’s plan in mind, and they bear the Master’s seal.

No, that trauma you faced was not easy, and God wept that it hurt you so;

But it was allowed to shape your heart so that into His likeness you’d grow.

You are who you are for a reason, you’ve been formed by the Master’s rod.

You are who you are, beloved, because there is a God!

© Russell Kelfer. Used by permission.  See www.dtm.org for more information.

 Excerpt from The Victor Marx Story: With God All Things Are Possible

“You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” - Psalm 139:16

“I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord. They are plans for peace and not disaster; plans to give you a future filled with hope.” – Jeremiah 29:11

“This is my passion:

To join Jesus in setting young captives free!”

Oceanside, California was a rough town at that time. After Vietnam there were a lot of former Marines with combat post-traumatic stress disorder who were always looking for a fight.  There were also a lot of gangs who liked to prey on young and inexperienced Marines. Three gang members confronted me and a friend while we were on liberty there.

“Give us your money!” they demanded.

“We ain’t giving you any money,” I said matter-of-factly. Then thinking quickly I added, “Do you know who you’re talking to? We’re undercover military police officers and we’re on a stakeout. We’ve got two cars following us, and I expect you boys better be moving.”

The gang backed off. Suddenly my fellow Marine took off running – or as they say, he “attacked to the rear.”

“You’re lying to us,” the biggest gang member said as he boldly stepped forward.

One of them ripped a gold chain from around my neck. Then the biggest guy found a letter to my momma that contained some money. I grabbed the letter.

“Not that,” I said. “It’s a letter to my mom.”

The big guy pulled back his fist to hit me and I saw that his ring had a pointed object on it. Instantly I grabbed his head and stuck my thumb into his eye. The man screamed. I then turned my attention to the other two men and began punching them.

Pop, pop, pop! Smack! Crack! Kinda like an old Batman movie.

Ultimately it was the big guy who grabbed me from behind, picked me off my feet, and threw me to the ground. The three men kept kicking me until I stopped moving. It’s a good old Southern trick: when you’re outnumbered, play ‘possum like you’re dead.

“Man, we killed him!” one of them yelled. “Let’s get out of here!”

They turned and ran. I waited a minute before rising. My clothes were bloody and torn. I found my fellow Marine at a gas station. He explained that he had gone to look for a weapon, although I wondered why he hadn’t helped me with the five-fingered weapons at the end of his arms. Another Marine was at the gas station so I asked him for a weapon. He went to his car and brought back a big knife. I took it and went looking for the gang who beat me up but I couldn’t find them.

On many paydays for several months afterwards I walked the same alley looking for that gang, hoping to get revenge. I thank God that I never found them because if I did who knows what would have happened – nothing good for them, and even worse for me I’m sure.

Does revenge ever pay off? I don’t think so. You take revenge, then the other guy (or the other guy’s family) takes revenge on you, you take revenge again, and it keeps escalating.  It’s like the Mafia, or gangs in L.A., or the Arabs and Israelis. These guys have been carrying grudges for so many generations that they probably don’t even remember what caused the fighting in the first place.

Jesus had a new idea that is totally mind-boggling. He said that we should give love to people who hate us, and bless people who curse us. It sounds crazy, but it’s the only way to end the fighting. And here’s what I’ve learned first-hand – when you give love and bless the guy who hurts you, that feels a thousand times better than hurting him back. You ought to try it some time!

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who mistreat you. If anyone hits you on one cheek, let him hit the other one too; if someone takes your coat, let him have your shirt as well. Give to everyone who asks you for something, and when someone takes what is yours, do not ask for it back. Do for others just what you want them to do for you. If you love only the people who love you, why should you receive a blessing? Even sinners love those who love them! … No! Love your enemies and do good to them; lend and expect nothing back. You will then have a great reward, and you will be children of the Most High God. For he is good to the ungrateful and the wicked.” – Luke 6:27-35 (GNB)

- Excerpt from The Victor Marx Story: With God All Things Are Possible

Forgiving Hurts We Don’t Deserve (Part 1 & 2)

by Dr. Charles Stanley

Listen to these audio messages and find other helpful links on our victormarx.com Resources page.