Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, December 20, 1993 TAG: 9312200064
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CHARLES STRUM THE NEW YORK TIMES
DATELINE: BLOOMSBURY, N.J. LENGTH: Long
"You mean it seems out of place," he said, recasting a question that went something like, "What's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?"
Jones does run into people who think his work doesn't belong at a truck stop. "I tell them, `I once lived like you do, outside of God, outside of Jesus,' " he said.
"I had a foul mouth and drank a lot. But where else does the good news of the gospel belong but in some hellhole? In this world, we're in Satan's back yard. And when you're in trucking, you're right in his sandbox."
Thus Jones, a soft-spoken former long-haul driver, chooses to stand guard and spread the word at the modern, efficient Garden State Truck Plaza off Exit 7 - not a hellhole, to be sure, but a truck stop nonetheless.
Whatever Satan conspires to do here is artfully disguised as interstate commerce, with drivers and their 18-wheelers his unsuspecting dupes.
Until Jones retires this month after 3 1/2 years here, he is the devil's chief antagonist along this stretch of highway, just east of the Pennsylvania border. He is one of about 20 full-time chaplains around the country who serve Transport for Christ, a missionary society for truckers.
Founded 40 years ago, the society grew out of the work of a Canadian trucker named Jim Keyes, who gave up his days off to search out disabled rigs and to help repair them.
Declining payment, Keyes asked only for a few minutes to preach.
Like any good missionary, Jones is both zealous and patient, mindful that so daunting a goal as the salvation of America's truck drivers is unlikely to occur anytime, soon but insistent that he might as well start somewhere.
Even after his retirement, he said, he intends to remain as a volunteer assistant several days a week.
"I can identify with the problems, with the loneliness, with the temptations," he said. "I was kind of a natural because I talked to men about the Lord when I was a truck driver. It was as natural as talking about the Phillies."
A Baptist from Pennsylvania who attended Bible college with the hope of doing missionary work, Jones turned to trucking when he realized a missionary could not easily support a wife and six children.
Seven years ago, at the age of 59 and after 30 years behind the wheel, he rejoined the crusade. He has no illusions. He listens hard to what his motley flock has to say, and what he hears is America in some of its most distinctive voices. It often sounds like the lyric to a tears-in-your-beer country tune.
"I've been praying," said a sad-eyed driver named Greg, 22, who approached the chapel one Friday evening. "Now I'm hoping for God to help me."
Greg , who sat down with one of Jones' volunteer assistants, Bill Rogers, said extra trucking assignments had kept him away from home for nearly five weeks. He had just learned that his wife had left him, convinced that infidelity was the cause of his prolonged absence.
Rogers counseled Greg to respond to be patient, but he also I can identify with the problems, with the loneliness, with the temptations. Howard Jones Former trucker now ministering to drivers urged him to call his dispatcher and "tell him you've got to get home, no ifs, ands or buts about it."
Jones' rig is open 24 hours a day, and late visitors are welcome.
"Chaplain sleeping. Knock if you have a need," says a sign on the door. Although it resembles most of the 150 other trailers that fill the truck stop around the clock, there are differences: the windscreen above the cab supports an illuminated cross, and the mud flaps read, "Jesus Is Lord."
Jones prefers to do his counseling in the trailer, but he is often approached in the convenience store, parking lot or restaurant. After 3 1/2 years here, the plot, a variation on Greg's theme, is familiar:
"Now this big macho guy with tattoos on his arm and, you know, he looks like he's got the world by the tail on a downhill pull, comes in with tears in his eyes. I've had them come right up to me in the booth right there and talk to me," said Jones, pointing to a table across the dining room.
"First thing I do is listen. I listen for 45 minutes or an hour and the fellow just spills his guts. And then I say these are all horizontal problems. You and the dispatch, you and the truck owner, you and the wife, you and the kids, you and your finances, you and your habits.
"What about the vertical? Where do you stand with the Lord, with your maker? And quite often, they'll just say, `I don't have any relationship.' And they're quieted down by that time. We haven't done anything toward solving their problems, but at least we know what the problem is."
After some quiet prayer, Jones said, he discusses the plan of salvation and offers comforting words about God's love.
"Now we have it in perspective," Jones says. "And they all admit, maybe not right at the start but before the session is over, that they caused the problem."
Jones said he always asks the drivers to stop back and tell him how things turned out. Sometimes the answer comes in the mail. "One little gal down in Georgia wrote me, `I got a brand new husband, and I didn't even have to get rid of the old one.' "
by CNB