In conversation with Ton Campfens
A man who has found his path
A portrait of the journey of a gentle go-getter.
You can’t miss him: a towering man with a beautiful head of curly gray hair. But what stands out most during our first meeting is his loving and friendly demeanor. He is a man you enjoy talking to, but who has also learned to listen. And that’s exactly what I’m doing in this interview with him.
“Ton, I hardly know you at all,” I begin.
I first heard him speak when he walked into the church alongside Ineke. You simply have more contact with some people than with others; with Ton, it had been limited to a friendly nod or a handshake until now. But when I heard his testimony, it moved me. Especially because he has been on such an incredible journey.
A baby boomer from a troubled family
Ton was born in 1947—a true baby boomer. Because of the bombings of Rotterdam, his parents fled the city. Via Leidschendam, they eventually ended up in Leiden and later in Wassenaar. A turbulent start, though it was hardly ever discussed at home.
“I still find that remarkable,” says Ton. “There was a lot of distance between parents and children. There was no openness. Later in life, you also think: what am I bringing up now? You don’t want to reopen old wounds for people.”
His parents’ marriage was strained. The atmosphere at home was defined by what he describes as “iron discipline.” “Something was said, and you did it. No backtalk, no say in the matter. That was the old-fashioned culture.”
Was there no rebellion then? “No. I was very docile and resigned myself to it. It was pure self-control, a kind of survival mechanism. At home, but also at school. I adapted to stand out as little as possible and suffer the least damage.”
Ton was the fourth child in a family of six. A ‘sandwich child,’ as he calls it himself. “I just floated along in the middle. There was something endearing about me, partly because of my appearance. Those curls gave me a disarming quality. I didn’t play that up on purpose, but the older people took me under their wing. My oldest sister—who recently passed away—really mothered me a bit.”
He wasn’t exactly a tiny baby, by the way: eleven pounds at birth. His mother was still frying fish at five in the morning, even as labor was about to begin. “That was her weakness,” Ton says dryly.
Highly sensitive in a harsh world
Any fond memories of his childhood? Ton pauses to think. “Of course there were moments, but to say now that I enjoyed my childhood… no. School was intense. Bullying, even blackmail.”
He describes himself as highly sensitive—someone who picks up on more stimuli than others. “Sounds hit me twice as hard. I experience bright colors more intensely. A room full of visitors is torture. When I stand in that crowded hall after church, I completely ‘turtle up’ (I retreat into my shell).”
Yet that sensitivity has also brought him something. “I can sense people and have a keen analytical ability. That has served me well, including in my work as a social worker.”
The bullying at school hit twice as hard because of that sensitivity. “Where others let it slide off them, I couldn’t handle it well. Children who want to dominate often pick on those they see as the weakest. I experienced that firsthand.”
Much of that pain has since subsided, though aggression remains a sensitive issue. “When I see aggression—on television or anywhere else—it resonates with my upbringing. It brings back memories. Not so much that I have to deal with it immediately, but at certain moments it surfaces briefly.”
The loss of his first wife
Before Ton met his current wife, Ineke, he lost his first wife. He saw it coming. “She led a risky life. When she got cancer, it felt almost inevitable. And yet you’re powerless.”
What has always stayed with him was her level-headedness. “The specialist said, ‘You have three months left.’ To which she calmly replied, ‘I know.’ Exactly three months later, almost to the day, was the funeral. I was more devastated than she was.”
The marriage had already been strained for years. Ton had emotionally distanced himself even before the final goodbye came. “That distance slowly turned into a farewell. That softened the trauma afterward. It might also explain why, after six months, I already felt the need for a new relationship. That seems fast, but sometimes life just goes that way.”
In Search of the Truth
Ton is a thinker. The search for his identity began early, but gained momentum during his studies in Social Work. His thesis bore the telling title: Who Am I? In Search of Myself.
“I was a deep thinker. Gradually, I found my way through it.”
But before he got there, he took a significant detour. First, he sought it in the superficial, in hedonism. Then he ended up with Transcendental Meditation (TM). “At first, I found peace there. But it also brought unrest into my relationship, because I became a different person. It was a forced peace. Zen-like. My sense of reality disappeared.”
What many people don’t know is that TM has deep roots in Hinduism. During the initiation, you must offer fruit and a handkerchief on an altar. “It’s presented as a kind of game,” Ton explains, “but it’s an initiation into a religion.”
Halfway through the sessions, something started to feel off. Not because it wasn’t working, but because it didn’t feel right. He stopped. Later, he expressed regret and asked God for forgiveness, because he had made the wrong choice. “That connection was broken. I never experienced any negative consequences from it. No bad dreams, nothing. Very unusual.”
He suspects this also has to do with the spiritual foundation that was already there. Ton was, in fact, once on the verge of becoming a priest. His parents were delighted; after all, his uncle was also a priest. “But I was weighed and found wanting. “After elementary school, I had to take an entrance exam for the so-called Minor Seminary; however, this was at the high school level, while my test results indicated the lower MULO level.” With a grin, he adds: “They probably already saw back then that I would never be able to maintain that celibacy.”
The book that set everything in motion
After the TM, the emptiness remained. Until he came across the book The Power Within You by psychologist Joseph Murphy. A client had received it from her family doctor and asked if Ton would read it. “I was completely absorbed by it. The message was almost too good to be true. And it was.”
The core of the book: what you visualize and believe, you attract. Prosperity, health, happiness—it’s there for the taking. Murphy even backed this up with Bible verses like “Seek and you shall find.”
“That was his mistake,” says Ton. “He forgot that there are people who actually do read the Bible. And that’s what I did. After ten years, I took the Bible off the shelf again.”
He had received that copy years earlier from an insurance agent. “As he was leaving, the man said, ‘No strings attached, but maybe you’d like to take a look inside.’ Out of politeness, I accepted it, but it disappeared straight into the bookcase.”
The Conversion
Eventually, reading the Scriptures led to a turning point. Ton attended the Reformed church, and in 1987—on Pentecost, in his fortieth year—he consciously got down on his knees. “I asked for forgiveness and gave my life to the Lord.”
Life didn’t get any easier right away. “In the beginning, it actually got harder. I was the only one in the family who came to faith. My wife looked at me like, ‘What’s this now?’ But I stood by my decision. Later, she accepted it, and eventually she came to faith herself after a Christmas Eve service.”
In the years that followed, Ton went through seven different denominations. “I planned to write a little book about it. About my experiences in all those churches and how I saw them in the light of the Bible.”
That little book never came to be. “I was halfway through and then stopped. I don’t know exactly why myself.” He laughs; the look on Ineke’s face beside him speaks volumes.
Sometimes you have to keep a little secret together. Where did he feel most at home? “With the Baptists. A joyful faith, a strong emphasis on the Word and study. A certain humility combined with sincere joy. That balance appealed to me.”
A love-hate relationship with the church
Ton is honest about his place in their current charismatic church. “I have a love-hate relationship with it. I have a warm heart for the church, but the form—the stage antics, the way things are said—sometimes feels far removed from me. It sometimes feels like a performance to me.”
He emphasizes that this says nothing about the content or the intentions of others. “I would never say that what they do is wrong. That would be arrogant. It simply doesn’t suit me.”
On Ineke’s advice, he now often sits on the balcony during the service. A bit more at a distance, as a spectator. “That works better. Because of my high sensitivity, a packed hall with so many stimuli is very overwhelming.” The fact that Ineke and he experience the church differently isn’t a problem. “We respect each other’s path.” It’s precisely in our differences that we find each other; after all, the similarities come naturally.”
The miracle of a happy marriage
The most beautiful part of the conversation comes up almost in passing. “We experience the fact that we have such a harmonious marriage as a miracle. We both carry baggage and don’t have an easy past. And yet we live together with so much openness and love. Humanly speaking, that’s almost impossible.”
As a social worker, he would have said in the past: don’t even try. The statistics for two people with such a troubled past aren’t good. “But we both live close to God. Each from our own unique relationship, but also together. We pray and read together every day. And at the same time, we give each other space; sometimes one of us goes upstairs for that intimate, personal connection with God.”
Ineke adds that, of course, there have also been “rough patches.” “But then you look at yourself: what’s my part in this? That’s how we found each other again and again. And we could listen and laugh once more.” Ton nods. “Without that foundation, I wouldn’t have made it. I know that for sure.”
Finding the Way
Ton is a man who has found his way through many detours. The bullying, the TM, the various churches, and two marriages: it has shaped him. He has become more gentle, broader in his perspective, and stronger in his foundation.
“I found something valuable in every church,” he concludes. “That broadened my perspective. I no longer quickly say, ‘That’s how it is.’ I prefer to say, ‘In my opinion.’ That’s a healthy development.”
And the feeling of coming home? “I’ve known that. Unfortunately, I feel it less in the congregation now, but God always shows me the way. I trust in that.”
@wimvanputten