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One night he came home from a church meeting. "My father
said my face shined like a 200-watt light bulb," Lundstrom
says. The elder Lundstrom wanted to pin down his son about his
faith. Lundstrom said, "Dad, I don't know anything about the
Bible because we never read it. Here's what we'll do. You ask me
any question you want and I'll open up the Bible and the answer
will be there."
His father's first question was, "How do you know there is
a God?" Lundstrom opened the Bible and it said, "The
fool has said in his heart there is no God." For an hour the
questions continued and scripture answers were revealed to Lundstrom
and his father. Within two weeks, his parents and two brothers,
Larry and Leon, were converted.
Lundstrom and Brown married in June 1957 and together started
Bible school that fall at Trinity Bible College in Ellendale, North
Dakota. Lundstrom finished his degree at North Central Bible College
in Minneapolis, where Jim Bakker was a classmate.
Upon graduation, the newlyweds purchased a Nash Rambler and began
their ministry, a blend of music and sermons, traveling to churches
across the country, often sleeping in their car between meetings. "We
didn't have enough money to buy birdseed for a cuckoo clock," Lundstrom
says in My Home, the Highway, by Connie Lundstrom. They recorded
an album, the first of 62, in 1961.
Lundstrom's brother, Larry, joined them and they became the Lundstrom
Trio, traveling four to six months at a time, salt-of-the-earth
people, winning souls for Christ.
A Baptist minister in Mitchell, South Dakota donated the $60 necessary
to get the group on the airwaves. "Message for America" eventually
landed on KXEL, a 50,000-watt station in Waterloo, Iowa. This became
the start of a network of 150 stations across the U.S. and Canada
that broadcast the weekly program.
As the Lundstrom ministry grew, so did the family. Larry married
and the brothers' families were immersed in the ministry. The Lundstroms
preached 300 nights a year.
"We went to over a thousand churches in ten years," Lundstrom
says. "Then we spent another 30 years in auditoriums and arenas
with cooperative crusades like the Billy-Graham type. Throughout
the week we'd have crowds of 35,000 to 45,000 people."
His daughter Londa says, "When Dad said, 'I think the Lord
would have me start a church one day,' we kids were like, 'we know
you're nuts and losing your mind.' But he would just, every now
and then, bring it up and, now, well, here we are!"
Celebration Church is situated on 23 acres with 1,200 in weekly
attendance, all headed by a man who once roamed the fields on Sunday
mornings.
"The night Lowell and I got saved," Connie writes in
her book, "[Lowell's] first words were 'Wait till everyone
hears about this!' Telling all people about Jesus has been his
all-consuming, burning desire ever since. Every waking hour is
spent with that goal and purpose in mind."
The buses may be sold off and the tent pegs driven into the hillside
of Lakeville, but the humble highwayman, who logged a million miles
on the road as a traveling evangelist, is still a hound for Heaven.
Even the church bulletin states year-to-date salvations: 442 and
counting. A half million is not enough. Lundstrom wants to double
that figure.
From a booth in the renovated kitchen area of Celebration Church,
Lundstrom looks out at I-35's concrete pavement, a place he called
home for 40 years. "We will do anything we can to help more
folks find the Lord."
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