I have to apologize. I spent a sizable time yesterday editing my blog. I am not sure I caught every typo, but alas, I caught many that I had missed during the late hours I have been writing it.
I have taken steps to ensure this editorial malpractice is not duplicated to the degree it took place under the present system. I had trouble getting through a blog—wading through the morass of misspelled words and misconstrued syntax.
Reader’s Digest—improve your vocabulary section, here I come!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Night Rider
It would have been another Personnel Committee appeal process as so many others before. It ended up being the appeal that never happened. What was shaping up to be a contentious and divisive meeting developed into the beginning of a reconciliation and intervention process that left both parties, administrative and teaching, feeling positive about the present turn of events and future possibilities. I like it when adversarial positions are traded in for cooperative solutions. It should happen more often than it does in church circles. Oh, the patience of the saints....
In any case, the meeting was over sooner than expected and I was looking forward to a three hour long drive back from Holbrook Indian School through Heber, Rye, Payson, and other small hamlets sprinkled about the mountain ridges that lay between Interstate 40 on the northeast side of the state and the great Valley of the Sun, in central Arizona. Looking forward to the trip is probably not the best way to describe my general attitude towards the impending after-hours sojourn. I was tired and hungry. The best news is that due to the shift in the tenor of the meeting, adjournment took place before 8:00 p.m. I was gassed up and ready to go. I anticipated I would be home sometime after 11:00 p.m., if all went as planned. As planned....
Although the meeting ended on the short side of 8:00 p.m., the meeting had, for all intent and purposes, already concluded long before. We were just chatting pleasantries around the table about our respective journeys to Holbrook. Ted Benson and Kelly Bock had come from different directions but with a specific purpose beyond the committee meeting. They were delivering a truckload of donated items to the school. That is another story altogether, but it is germane because of a tale shared by Ted regarding his journey down the very road I had taken earlier.
Ted recalled how while on one of the roads weaving their way through the picturesque scenery of mountain ranges between Phoenix and Holbrook he encountered a surprising sight. He was driving after hours, as I recall the story, through the section of the highway that posts various warnings about wildlife, elks and dear particularly, who are residents of those forested areas. The problem arises when these forest animals make excursions onto the highway and have unplanned and totally unexpected close encounters with on-coming traffic. This is more apt to take place in the night hours, since these beasts apparently have no curfews.
Ted was somewhat prepared for elk and deer, he was not prepared for wild pigs-- Havelina pigs! These animals apparently roam aimlessly in these forests in search for new odors to add to their collection. Since these grotesquely hairy animals lack in the area of social graces associated with personal hygiene, they simply accumulate a combination of scents, one over the previous hideous stench, to the point that you may not always see them, but you can smell their presence long before they make a physical appearance. Well, in the middle of the highway, Ted encountered two 500 lbs. Havelina pigs. He did not stop to ask why they were crossing the road, or if in fact they intended ever to cross the road. He honked the horn on his oversized truck and that was sufficient to break up the porcine ad hoc committee.
To this tale all those present at the meeting added their personal words of advice as to how to avoid the inevitable encounter with some type of wildlife on the way home. Kelly advised, "If you see an elk or dear, turn off your lights and honk your horn." Apparently elk or dear will not move in the presence of oncoming headlights (thus the "dear in the headlights" idiom). They will run from the noise, but only if there are no headlights. Go figure! I asked myself, "What if they are deaf?" "What if they happen to be a stubborn animal, and chose not to move anyway?" I am heading at them blindly in the dark! They assured me they would move before I turned my headlights again. Oh, that's a relief!
They warned me about speed traps in the hills. They vividly described the topographical scenes that I should look out for, lest I be surprised by over-zealous patrol officers lurking inside their patrol cars embedded in the bushes on the side of the highway. I made mental note of all their suggestions and vivid descriptions of wildlife gone wild!
Armed with this pertinent information-- I was wreck all the way home! I saw antlers around every curve and behind every tree (and there are lots of trees between Holbrook and Phoenix!). I controlled my speed out of fear that I would be unable to stop in time in the event that a one ton Elk would prance across the highway at the very moment of my passing (bad choice of words). Even worse, what is a family of overweight Havelinas wobbled onto the very stretch (stench) of road I was on? How would the headlines read? "Superintendent Ham-bushed by Havelinas!" I imagined a giant crazed dear jumping out of foliage at any moment. Sasquatch might even make an appearance. That is not even considering my law-enforcement phobia. I did not drop my guard for one moment until I turned onto Shea Boulevard or Road or Street, whatever it is, on the outskirts of Scottsdale.
Maybe that is what it took to keep me awake and alert on the trip home. I was pretty beat when I got to Holbrook! Whatever the case might be, I am happy to be back in the office. The docket it full. By the way, I developed an addiction to CornNuts on this trip. I am not sure how to interpret the benefits or side-effects of my newly-acquired CornNuts vice. I am certain I will be seeing dancing Havelinas in my sleep for nights to come. If I wake up and can't sleep, I can always go and fetch some CornNuts!
In any case, the meeting was over sooner than expected and I was looking forward to a three hour long drive back from Holbrook Indian School through Heber, Rye, Payson, and other small hamlets sprinkled about the mountain ridges that lay between Interstate 40 on the northeast side of the state and the great Valley of the Sun, in central Arizona. Looking forward to the trip is probably not the best way to describe my general attitude towards the impending after-hours sojourn. I was tired and hungry. The best news is that due to the shift in the tenor of the meeting, adjournment took place before 8:00 p.m. I was gassed up and ready to go. I anticipated I would be home sometime after 11:00 p.m., if all went as planned. As planned....
Although the meeting ended on the short side of 8:00 p.m., the meeting had, for all intent and purposes, already concluded long before. We were just chatting pleasantries around the table about our respective journeys to Holbrook. Ted Benson and Kelly Bock had come from different directions but with a specific purpose beyond the committee meeting. They were delivering a truckload of donated items to the school. That is another story altogether, but it is germane because of a tale shared by Ted regarding his journey down the very road I had taken earlier.
Ted recalled how while on one of the roads weaving their way through the picturesque scenery of mountain ranges between Phoenix and Holbrook he encountered a surprising sight. He was driving after hours, as I recall the story, through the section of the highway that posts various warnings about wildlife, elks and dear particularly, who are residents of those forested areas. The problem arises when these forest animals make excursions onto the highway and have unplanned and totally unexpected close encounters with on-coming traffic. This is more apt to take place in the night hours, since these beasts apparently have no curfews.
Ted was somewhat prepared for elk and deer, he was not prepared for wild pigs-- Havelina pigs! These animals apparently roam aimlessly in these forests in search for new odors to add to their collection. Since these grotesquely hairy animals lack in the area of social graces associated with personal hygiene, they simply accumulate a combination of scents, one over the previous hideous stench, to the point that you may not always see them, but you can smell their presence long before they make a physical appearance. Well, in the middle of the highway, Ted encountered two 500 lbs. Havelina pigs. He did not stop to ask why they were crossing the road, or if in fact they intended ever to cross the road. He honked the horn on his oversized truck and that was sufficient to break up the porcine ad hoc committee.
To this tale all those present at the meeting added their personal words of advice as to how to avoid the inevitable encounter with some type of wildlife on the way home. Kelly advised, "If you see an elk or dear, turn off your lights and honk your horn." Apparently elk or dear will not move in the presence of oncoming headlights (thus the "dear in the headlights" idiom). They will run from the noise, but only if there are no headlights. Go figure! I asked myself, "What if they are deaf?" "What if they happen to be a stubborn animal, and chose not to move anyway?" I am heading at them blindly in the dark! They assured me they would move before I turned my headlights again. Oh, that's a relief!
They warned me about speed traps in the hills. They vividly described the topographical scenes that I should look out for, lest I be surprised by over-zealous patrol officers lurking inside their patrol cars embedded in the bushes on the side of the highway. I made mental note of all their suggestions and vivid descriptions of wildlife gone wild!
Armed with this pertinent information-- I was wreck all the way home! I saw antlers around every curve and behind every tree (and there are lots of trees between Holbrook and Phoenix!). I controlled my speed out of fear that I would be unable to stop in time in the event that a one ton Elk would prance across the highway at the very moment of my passing (bad choice of words). Even worse, what is a family of overweight Havelinas wobbled onto the very stretch (stench) of road I was on? How would the headlines read? "Superintendent Ham-bushed by Havelinas!" I imagined a giant crazed dear jumping out of foliage at any moment. Sasquatch might even make an appearance. That is not even considering my law-enforcement phobia. I did not drop my guard for one moment until I turned onto Shea Boulevard or Road or Street, whatever it is, on the outskirts of Scottsdale.
Maybe that is what it took to keep me awake and alert on the trip home. I was pretty beat when I got to Holbrook! Whatever the case might be, I am happy to be back in the office. The docket it full. By the way, I developed an addiction to CornNuts on this trip. I am not sure how to interpret the benefits or side-effects of my newly-acquired CornNuts vice. I am certain I will be seeing dancing Havelinas in my sleep for nights to come. If I wake up and can't sleep, I can always go and fetch some CornNuts!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Storm Clouds Looming
After the morning devotional time with the office staff led by Florence Darby, a true saint, I was immediately called into the president's office. The president asked me to have a seat and proceeded to tell me that TAA had informed him they did not have the liquid funds to meet payroll for the end of the month. That was a dousing of cold water to begin the day.
I asked how much they were going to need to make payroll. The figure of $40,000 was the answer. I spend a sizable amount of the rest of my day in meetings with TAA administration, and later with administration and the development director, to strategize a plan for the short term and lay the foundation for further discussions regarding the plans for next year.
A couple of things come to the surface in response to this latest event. First, there is a need for a plan. Second, only in order, there is need for action. The conference should not have to worry about finding money every payroll to float the school. Mark, the development director, was commissioned with finding $40,000 by the end of next month. The principal will do his part to try to find any unaccounted for money in the conference coffers. This is a remote possibility. The conference is also trying to survive in a tough economy.
I must confess that I was thrown for a loop at the end of the day. Call is a moment of weakness. Perhaps it was more a lapse in focus. When I got home I lost sight of the reason I am here and reacted to the problem. I sought to hide from the problem, as if I could hide from anything, real or imagined, in my small duplex. Trying to run or hide from a problem is never good. The president (by the way, when I refer to the president, it is a reference to the president of the Arizona Conference, where I work. Any reference to any other president will be more specific, since they are not in my immediate realm) has a saying, "Our challenges are God's opportunities." I like that. But, in reality, it is not always easy to remember. To live in a state of feeble faith when life calls for a firm faith is hardly a favorable place to be. I was reminded before falling asleep late at night that I also need to remind myself constantly who I work for and why I do what I do. God is my Boss. I am called to serve. Both of those facts require a faith component that makes them irrational when that component is absent. But when they are infused with faith, that reality becomes empowering and fulfilling, regardless of the circumstance.
"The just shall live by faith" was never truer or more meaningful to me than it is now. The financial challenges at TAA, specifically, and across the conference, generally, will call for much work and prayer. Never a dull moment in the AZC!
I asked how much they were going to need to make payroll. The figure of $40,000 was the answer. I spend a sizable amount of the rest of my day in meetings with TAA administration, and later with administration and the development director, to strategize a plan for the short term and lay the foundation for further discussions regarding the plans for next year.
A couple of things come to the surface in response to this latest event. First, there is a need for a plan. Second, only in order, there is need for action. The conference should not have to worry about finding money every payroll to float the school. Mark, the development director, was commissioned with finding $40,000 by the end of next month. The principal will do his part to try to find any unaccounted for money in the conference coffers. This is a remote possibility. The conference is also trying to survive in a tough economy.
I must confess that I was thrown for a loop at the end of the day. Call is a moment of weakness. Perhaps it was more a lapse in focus. When I got home I lost sight of the reason I am here and reacted to the problem. I sought to hide from the problem, as if I could hide from anything, real or imagined, in my small duplex. Trying to run or hide from a problem is never good. The president (by the way, when I refer to the president, it is a reference to the president of the Arizona Conference, where I work. Any reference to any other president will be more specific, since they are not in my immediate realm) has a saying, "Our challenges are God's opportunities." I like that. But, in reality, it is not always easy to remember. To live in a state of feeble faith when life calls for a firm faith is hardly a favorable place to be. I was reminded before falling asleep late at night that I also need to remind myself constantly who I work for and why I do what I do. God is my Boss. I am called to serve. Both of those facts require a faith component that makes them irrational when that component is absent. But when they are infused with faith, that reality becomes empowering and fulfilling, regardless of the circumstance.
"The just shall live by faith" was never truer or more meaningful to me than it is now. The financial challenges at TAA, specifically, and across the conference, generally, will call for much work and prayer. Never a dull moment in the AZC!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Of Yumans with a Sense of Yuma
Disclaimer-- The title has little to do with my narrative, but I just wanted to use the Yuman puns since the story relates to my most recent visit to Yuma.
What would you do if your car suddenly shut off as you were in the middle of the desert in the midst of the afternoon in 112 degree weather? I was confronted with this scenario last Monday on my way to Yuma, Arizona, on the far southwest corner of the state.
It was not supposed to be a complicated day. I had my day charted out perfectly. I would leave early in the morning from Scottsdale and spend the lion's share of the day at the Yuma Adventist Christian School doing observations and getting to know the school community better. A number of complications short-circuited those plans before they even got started.
First of all was my return flight from Southern California. The flight was not originally in the schedule. You will have to refer to a precious blog in order to understand why a return flight from necessary from the other side of the Colorado River. That alone would have only put me behind schedule. There is more....
Late Thursday of the previous week I received an e-mail from the President's Office (as in president of the AZ Conference) informing me of a Director's Meeting which was scheduled for Monday morning. All directors were expected to attend and report on their activities. Even with this additional invasion of my carefully crafted scheduled I felt that the day was still salvageable. But there is more....
I calculated the meeting would take at most one hour which would still give me time to get to Yuma by early afternoon. It seemed plausible, if not practical or realistic. But the meeting ended long after noon had come and gone. This was now becoming extremely challenging. I looked at my watch incessantly as time slipped away during the endless meeting.
I rushed out of the Conference Office a shade this side of 12:30 p.m., still thinking I could make it before the end of the school day. I mentally calculated the distance and the time and had a decided I could still make it the 250 miles in less than 3 hours, maybe even 2 and a half hours. What was I thinking! I glanced at my gas gauge and saw that I had half a talk left. Once again I make my mental calculations and concluded I had sufficient gas to get to Yuma, with gas to spare, based on previous experiences. This was the beginning of then end.
To be fair, I do not believe I looked at the gas gauge again until I was 10 miles outside of Yuma...and then only because I noticed the gas light blinking. I even remember asking myself, "I wonder how long that light has been blinking...." Then it happened-- what I never imagined would or could ever happen to a hybrid-- a Prius Hybrid, no less! My car simply died! The instrument panel lit up light Las Vegas at night! Red exclamation points flashed. Orange engine-shaped icons with a line drawn through them blinked.
Bold capital letters that meant something that did not come to mind then or now beckoned for my attention. Buzzers, bell, and whistles made their inappropriate sounds clamoring for immediate attention like spoiled children on a long trip.
It was a moment of uneasiness. Had the car finally given up the ghost after 215,000 miles? Had the batteries short-circuited or melted in the hot desert sun? Had I pushed the car too hard trying to get to Yuma in time to see the students while still in their classrooms? The last was the closest to the truth.
I pushed buttons without success. I accelerated with no effect. I imagined myself stranded out in the outskirts of Yuma under the blazing furnace that is the Arizona sun in mid-September. I wondered if anyone would stop to help me and give me a lift to the nearest Toyota dealership. Would my fate be worse than that? Would my bleached bones be found lying on the shoulder of Interstate 8? I coasted for about four miles, every mile I coasted slower and slower? How long would I continue to coast. It wasn't downhill anymore.
After almost coasting to a stop I managed to get off on the first exit hoping for a gas station to park my car.
Unfortunately, there was no gas station or meaningful civilization on this exit. My car was now dead almost at the end of an uphill exit. I stopped the car. Perhaps the worst was behind me since I would not die out in the desert. I sat in the car in a continual state of prayer. "Please, God, don't let me be stranded in Yuma!" Nothing personal-- I am sure Yuma is nice in the winter. But this was late summer, and summer was not going out with a whimper. It was 112 degrees, but felt like 150 degrees in the car with no air-conditioner running (I had shut if off to conserve gas).
I was not going anywhere just sitting there on the edge of the off-ramp (still in traffic). I had nothing to lose so I pushed the "Power On" button. It turned on! Mind you the battery gauge had marked dead for a few miles. I had assumed the battery and engine were dead. The dashboard had strongly implied my engine was non-functioning. I was delighted to discover my electric engine was still running. I pushed the accelerator. The car moved! Minimally, but it moved. I was hoping to find a gas station with a mechanic along the frontage road I was on. The car went for a quarter mile and then stopped responding to my prodding on the gas pedal. My engine was dead. The road was flat. I had more than a mile to go before I got to the next road. There were no residences. There was a McDonald's. No people, no homes, no civilization, but there was a McDonald's! That is a powerful silent social commentary.
I can't explain how my car continued to move without battery life and apparently no gas. Yes, no gas. I was now banking on the possibility that my car had shut off due to lack of gas! I made the mental calculations again in my head. I saw the miles traveled. I noted the miles per gallon. I remembered my speed over the past three hours plus. The math did not add up.
Well, I guess, it did add up. I should have run out of gas miles ago. I did.
The car was almost totally stopped now, but somehow it kept moving. It kept moving and moving-- slowly, but moving. I was within reach of a Chevron station, but to get there I would have to maneuver my way on to the main street uphill and turn right and then right again into the station. The car was now not moving at all. I got out and started pushing the car uphill in 500 degree weather. I didn't seem that hot, surprisingly so. It only seemed about 112 degrees with 50% humidity! But miraculously, the car required very little effort to move it. It was as if someone was helping me push the car. It glided uphill as if pushed by five people and not just one chunky old man. I saw a person coming towards me asking, "Do you need some help?" All I could say was, "It seems to be moving pretty well right now." "You're killing me," I remember him saying, probably because he ws running in my direction after being prodded out of his car by his wife/girlfriend who was still in the air-conditioned comfort of their auto. He stopped and watched me push (with the help of my invisible friends)!
He did end up following me into the gas station. I filled up with mid-grade petrol. I pushed the "Power On" button, and presto! The car ran like a charm. Amazing how cars work better with gasoline than without it.
Well, I learned an important lesson. Bring lots of water if you are traveling through the desert. And also, angels are not averse to helping push hybrids. Thank you, Lord!
What would you do if your car suddenly shut off as you were in the middle of the desert in the midst of the afternoon in 112 degree weather? I was confronted with this scenario last Monday on my way to Yuma, Arizona, on the far southwest corner of the state.
It was not supposed to be a complicated day. I had my day charted out perfectly. I would leave early in the morning from Scottsdale and spend the lion's share of the day at the Yuma Adventist Christian School doing observations and getting to know the school community better. A number of complications short-circuited those plans before they even got started.
First of all was my return flight from Southern California. The flight was not originally in the schedule. You will have to refer to a precious blog in order to understand why a return flight from necessary from the other side of the Colorado River. That alone would have only put me behind schedule. There is more....
Late Thursday of the previous week I received an e-mail from the President's Office (as in president of the AZ Conference) informing me of a Director's Meeting which was scheduled for Monday morning. All directors were expected to attend and report on their activities. Even with this additional invasion of my carefully crafted scheduled I felt that the day was still salvageable. But there is more....
I calculated the meeting would take at most one hour which would still give me time to get to Yuma by early afternoon. It seemed plausible, if not practical or realistic. But the meeting ended long after noon had come and gone. This was now becoming extremely challenging. I looked at my watch incessantly as time slipped away during the endless meeting.
I rushed out of the Conference Office a shade this side of 12:30 p.m., still thinking I could make it before the end of the school day. I mentally calculated the distance and the time and had a decided I could still make it the 250 miles in less than 3 hours, maybe even 2 and a half hours. What was I thinking! I glanced at my gas gauge and saw that I had half a talk left. Once again I make my mental calculations and concluded I had sufficient gas to get to Yuma, with gas to spare, based on previous experiences. This was the beginning of then end.
To be fair, I do not believe I looked at the gas gauge again until I was 10 miles outside of Yuma...and then only because I noticed the gas light blinking. I even remember asking myself, "I wonder how long that light has been blinking...." Then it happened-- what I never imagined would or could ever happen to a hybrid-- a Prius Hybrid, no less! My car simply died! The instrument panel lit up light Las Vegas at night! Red exclamation points flashed. Orange engine-shaped icons with a line drawn through them blinked.
Bold capital letters that meant something that did not come to mind then or now beckoned for my attention. Buzzers, bell, and whistles made their inappropriate sounds clamoring for immediate attention like spoiled children on a long trip.
It was a moment of uneasiness. Had the car finally given up the ghost after 215,000 miles? Had the batteries short-circuited or melted in the hot desert sun? Had I pushed the car too hard trying to get to Yuma in time to see the students while still in their classrooms? The last was the closest to the truth.
I pushed buttons without success. I accelerated with no effect. I imagined myself stranded out in the outskirts of Yuma under the blazing furnace that is the Arizona sun in mid-September. I wondered if anyone would stop to help me and give me a lift to the nearest Toyota dealership. Would my fate be worse than that? Would my bleached bones be found lying on the shoulder of Interstate 8? I coasted for about four miles, every mile I coasted slower and slower? How long would I continue to coast. It wasn't downhill anymore.
After almost coasting to a stop I managed to get off on the first exit hoping for a gas station to park my car.
Unfortunately, there was no gas station or meaningful civilization on this exit. My car was now dead almost at the end of an uphill exit. I stopped the car. Perhaps the worst was behind me since I would not die out in the desert. I sat in the car in a continual state of prayer. "Please, God, don't let me be stranded in Yuma!" Nothing personal-- I am sure Yuma is nice in the winter. But this was late summer, and summer was not going out with a whimper. It was 112 degrees, but felt like 150 degrees in the car with no air-conditioner running (I had shut if off to conserve gas).
I was not going anywhere just sitting there on the edge of the off-ramp (still in traffic). I had nothing to lose so I pushed the "Power On" button. It turned on! Mind you the battery gauge had marked dead for a few miles. I had assumed the battery and engine were dead. The dashboard had strongly implied my engine was non-functioning. I was delighted to discover my electric engine was still running. I pushed the accelerator. The car moved! Minimally, but it moved. I was hoping to find a gas station with a mechanic along the frontage road I was on. The car went for a quarter mile and then stopped responding to my prodding on the gas pedal. My engine was dead. The road was flat. I had more than a mile to go before I got to the next road. There were no residences. There was a McDonald's. No people, no homes, no civilization, but there was a McDonald's! That is a powerful silent social commentary.
I can't explain how my car continued to move without battery life and apparently no gas. Yes, no gas. I was now banking on the possibility that my car had shut off due to lack of gas! I made the mental calculations again in my head. I saw the miles traveled. I noted the miles per gallon. I remembered my speed over the past three hours plus. The math did not add up.
Well, I guess, it did add up. I should have run out of gas miles ago. I did.
The car was almost totally stopped now, but somehow it kept moving. It kept moving and moving-- slowly, but moving. I was within reach of a Chevron station, but to get there I would have to maneuver my way on to the main street uphill and turn right and then right again into the station. The car was now not moving at all. I got out and started pushing the car uphill in 500 degree weather. I didn't seem that hot, surprisingly so. It only seemed about 112 degrees with 50% humidity! But miraculously, the car required very little effort to move it. It was as if someone was helping me push the car. It glided uphill as if pushed by five people and not just one chunky old man. I saw a person coming towards me asking, "Do you need some help?" All I could say was, "It seems to be moving pretty well right now." "You're killing me," I remember him saying, probably because he ws running in my direction after being prodded out of his car by his wife/girlfriend who was still in the air-conditioned comfort of their auto. He stopped and watched me push (with the help of my invisible friends)!
He did end up following me into the gas station. I filled up with mid-grade petrol. I pushed the "Power On" button, and presto! The car ran like a charm. Amazing how cars work better with gasoline than without it.
Well, I learned an important lesson. Bring lots of water if you are traveling through the desert. And also, angels are not averse to helping push hybrids. Thank you, Lord!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Sabbath Rest?
Sabbath Rest. Tomorrow will be a restfully busy day. I will still get up at a somewhat early hour-- by choice. I will still have to travel-- probably more than I do on a typical day-- by choice. I will preach a sermon. I will participate in a group discussion. I will spend time with people; a mixture of those who want or need to see me for various reasons. That appears to be the same. But it's not the same at all-- by choice. But not the choice you may think.
Yes it's true I choose to participate in all those ways that make Sabbath so special when compared to the other days of the week. Still it feels different-- but ultimately it is not my choice that makes Sabbath stand out. It's His choice.
In the universal context, yet in an ever so personal way, God chose. He chose to create me. He chose to give me life. He chose to give me freedom to make choices. He chose to take a chance on me knowing that I would mess up royally. Still He chose to make a day to spend with me, even if I chose not to show up. He chose to set aside 24 hours of His infinitely packed schedule to walk and talk with me even when I wander and ignore his chrono-investment in me.
Long before I was born, and long before I even gave Him the time of day-- He gave me a whole day to remind me that I have a place in the big scheme of things that blows away any puny self-centered dreams and goals.
Today I rest from the week of doing what is necessary in order to rest in the reality that what really matters has already been done for me-- His choice!
Happy Sabbath, everyone!
Yes it's true I choose to participate in all those ways that make Sabbath so special when compared to the other days of the week. Still it feels different-- but ultimately it is not my choice that makes Sabbath stand out. It's His choice.
In the universal context, yet in an ever so personal way, God chose. He chose to create me. He chose to give me life. He chose to give me freedom to make choices. He chose to take a chance on me knowing that I would mess up royally. Still He chose to make a day to spend with me, even if I chose not to show up. He chose to set aside 24 hours of His infinitely packed schedule to walk and talk with me even when I wander and ignore his chrono-investment in me.
Long before I was born, and long before I even gave Him the time of day-- He gave me a whole day to remind me that I have a place in the big scheme of things that blows away any puny self-centered dreams and goals.
Today I rest from the week of doing what is necessary in order to rest in the reality that what really matters has already been done for me-- His choice!
Happy Sabbath, everyone!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Thursday Night Blues
I went for a walk tonight. I put on my black Nike shorts, slipped into my gray Nike t-shirt, laced up my silver and red Asics running shoes. I grabbed my iPhone and head phones, tuned on Pandora Radio and started walking. I don’t know if I knew where I was going when I started. I just needed to get out of the house.
Please understand that when most Thursday afternoons roll around and before Sabbath morning kicks in I endure the most difficult part of my week. Forget school board meetings. Contentious conference committees are nothing. Late hours in the office pouring over an overdue project are a cakewalk compared to the seemingly endless hours stretching from the quiet hours of Thursday evening through the hectic minutes before the race to Sabbath School on Saturday morning.
I usually try my best to keep busy doing something, useful or not. Tonight nothing could silence the conspicuous solitude of life without Penny. The rest of the week I can drown in my work and push any thoughts of separation out of mind and out of sight. But not tonight! My heart, which some believe I don’t have, was hurting. I was in a definite state of melancholy.
Two hours of walking down Scottsdale Road took me to Frank Lloyd Wright Avenue and back. It was a balmy 95⁰ with no measurable wind. I didn’t take water with me. I was parched half way through my night walk. I talked to Penny on the phone and listened to Pandora Radio. I obviously made it home since I am now writing about it, so it seems I survived my excursion. My heart will survive to beat another day.
I guess this is the price I must pay for the opportunity to be part of a miracle in the making in Arizona. I am in for the duration. I better get my heart checked.
Please understand that when most Thursday afternoons roll around and before Sabbath morning kicks in I endure the most difficult part of my week. Forget school board meetings. Contentious conference committees are nothing. Late hours in the office pouring over an overdue project are a cakewalk compared to the seemingly endless hours stretching from the quiet hours of Thursday evening through the hectic minutes before the race to Sabbath School on Saturday morning.
I usually try my best to keep busy doing something, useful or not. Tonight nothing could silence the conspicuous solitude of life without Penny. The rest of the week I can drown in my work and push any thoughts of separation out of mind and out of sight. But not tonight! My heart, which some believe I don’t have, was hurting. I was in a definite state of melancholy.
Two hours of walking down Scottsdale Road took me to Frank Lloyd Wright Avenue and back. It was a balmy 95⁰ with no measurable wind. I didn’t take water with me. I was parched half way through my night walk. I talked to Penny on the phone and listened to Pandora Radio. I obviously made it home since I am now writing about it, so it seems I survived my excursion. My heart will survive to beat another day.
I guess this is the price I must pay for the opportunity to be part of a miracle in the making in Arizona. I am in for the duration. I better get my heart checked.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Saying Farewell
Today's highlight was lunch at Arivederci Italian Restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizona, for the farewell luncheon for Ivan Weiss, my predecessor in the Office of Education.
It was a bit overdue, considering he retired at the end of June. But the summer schedule was so discombobulated that the office personnel was unable to get together until today. On the other hand, Mr. Weiss had given over 40 years of service to this denomination in roles ranging from pastor to teacher to principal to superintendent. His wife and he lived in faraway places across America setting their lives aside to serve their church. He invested his life in the lives of hundreds of students, many of whom he would probably never see again. Yet he did it. For what?
It was obviously not for the perks offered by the financial windfall that comes with retirement. It was not for the acclaim and fame that comes with tireless toil in anonymity. It certainly was not for the card and roses given after the meal at an Italian restaurant, nice as they might have been (something about a cruise).
I sense that Mr. Weiss did it because, as he so eloquently stated, "I am just a servant." Kudos to you, Ivan Weiss! The world needs more Ivan Weisses. It's not about power or recognition, fame or fortune. It's for the sheer joy that comes with planting seeds for the Kingdom of God.
Johnny Appleseed, here I come! May I live long enough to look back and see God's handiwork in the wake of my life.
It was a bit overdue, considering he retired at the end of June. But the summer schedule was so discombobulated that the office personnel was unable to get together until today. On the other hand, Mr. Weiss had given over 40 years of service to this denomination in roles ranging from pastor to teacher to principal to superintendent. His wife and he lived in faraway places across America setting their lives aside to serve their church. He invested his life in the lives of hundreds of students, many of whom he would probably never see again. Yet he did it. For what?
It was obviously not for the perks offered by the financial windfall that comes with retirement. It was not for the acclaim and fame that comes with tireless toil in anonymity. It certainly was not for the card and roses given after the meal at an Italian restaurant, nice as they might have been (something about a cruise).
I sense that Mr. Weiss did it because, as he so eloquently stated, "I am just a servant." Kudos to you, Ivan Weiss! The world needs more Ivan Weisses. It's not about power or recognition, fame or fortune. It's for the sheer joy that comes with planting seeds for the Kingdom of God.
Johnny Appleseed, here I come! May I live long enough to look back and see God's handiwork in the wake of my life.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Monday Night at the Office
Another Monday is in the books. Two school boards today. A possible crisis begins to loom on the horizon. A major crisis is averted for the time being. Positive news from Thunderbird Academy is tempered by the realities that lay ahead. Sobering news are received from families going through major health challenges that appear to be progressing towards what appears to be the inevitable end. Good conversations are enjoyed with teachers and principals. Unexpected encounters take place with people who went to the same boarding school I attended when I was young.
At the end of the day I find myself in the office at 9:30 p.m. trying to catch up on the work I did not get done during the day. Is this the way my days will be more often than not? Is this the price I pay for the moments when a decision made makes a difference; when a sermon preached touches a heart; when a need is met or a solution is found. In the midst of the mundane of the day-- I receive a reminder that the work is not mine, nor are the results dependent on my abilities.
This is God's work. I am only a seed-planter for the owner of the farm.
At the end of the day I find myself in the office at 9:30 p.m. trying to catch up on the work I did not get done during the day. Is this the way my days will be more often than not? Is this the price I pay for the moments when a decision made makes a difference; when a sermon preached touches a heart; when a need is met or a solution is found. In the midst of the mundane of the day-- I receive a reminder that the work is not mine, nor are the results dependent on my abilities.
This is God's work. I am only a seed-planter for the owner of the farm.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
In a Pickle
I am not really looking forward to tomorrow. It really has nothing to do with work, specifically. It doesn't even have anything to do with the fact that it's Monday. It's just that I have to do something that does not come easy to me, at all-- "eat crow."
You see, I have this character flaw that often comes back to bite me. The truth is that I have many character flaws, but that is another story. Tomorrow I have to account for something that is a direct result of one of those character flaws. One complicating factor is that this particular flaw has served me well over the years. I love to say "Yes." Yes to this. Yes to that. Having a propensity for saying "Yes" is not the same as being a "Yes Man." I certainly do not consider myself a "Yes Man"!
No, but it is true that, all things being the same, I will try my best to find a way to say yes to a request to help out-- anyone, with anything. As a pastor, teacher, principal, and now, superintendent, I have always sought to make myself useful to those I serve. Maybe it's the way I was raised. Maybe it's some Freudian deficiency rooted in some latent childhood trauma. In any case, I will go out of my way to say yes if someone calls and asks me to do anything having to do with what I consider related somehow to my calling.
That may even sound a bit noble, but it can create some serious conflicts, especially when my propensity to be so accommodating becomes slanted to those I "serve" at the expense of those i "live with." Does that sound "familiar". Well, it is-- familiar, that is. As in family. For example, I recently accepted an invitation (actually two) to preach a Sabbath morning sermon and then speak for a Sabbath afternoon vespers program at two venues within this conference on an upcoming Sabbath. Actually, I have accepted several engagements. The calendar is beginning to fill up quite nicely. The problem with this particular opportunity is that I accepted it in spite of the fact that I was already committed to spending that day with my family in California. Family, in this case, includes Penny, my wife (who is presently still in California), my children, and grandchildren, and extended family. It was one of the "blackout" dates in my calendar. Now you see my dilemma.
My family was quite chagrined when they found out I had accepted a preaching engagement for Sabbath morning. They conceded Friday, after I explained that I would still be able to meet them later that afternoon if I left right after the church service. I was home free. Then I accepted the second one, rationalizing the fact that I could still get their later that night and then enjoy Sunday with the family. That didn't go so well. I found myself in the proverbial doghouse. Now I need to fix it.
So tomorrow I will have to call the people I assured I would be at their school to speak for their vespers program to inform them I will not be able to honor that commitment. I dread doing it. I would rather have my fingernails pulled back from my fingers. But the alternative is even less palatable.
The sad thing is that it's not the first time I have put myself in this unenviable predicament. I hope it will be the last time. I must learn that I am not defined by what I do professionally or ecclesiologically. I am first and foremost just a man, who happens to be a husband, a father, and a grandfather. My family is an integral part of what I do and of who I am. They are not one and the same. Lesson learned, once again.
I wonder if a vegetarian can "eat crow" and still be a vegetarian?
You see, I have this character flaw that often comes back to bite me. The truth is that I have many character flaws, but that is another story. Tomorrow I have to account for something that is a direct result of one of those character flaws. One complicating factor is that this particular flaw has served me well over the years. I love to say "Yes." Yes to this. Yes to that. Having a propensity for saying "Yes" is not the same as being a "Yes Man." I certainly do not consider myself a "Yes Man"!
No, but it is true that, all things being the same, I will try my best to find a way to say yes to a request to help out-- anyone, with anything. As a pastor, teacher, principal, and now, superintendent, I have always sought to make myself useful to those I serve. Maybe it's the way I was raised. Maybe it's some Freudian deficiency rooted in some latent childhood trauma. In any case, I will go out of my way to say yes if someone calls and asks me to do anything having to do with what I consider related somehow to my calling.
That may even sound a bit noble, but it can create some serious conflicts, especially when my propensity to be so accommodating becomes slanted to those I "serve" at the expense of those i "live with." Does that sound "familiar". Well, it is-- familiar, that is. As in family. For example, I recently accepted an invitation (actually two) to preach a Sabbath morning sermon and then speak for a Sabbath afternoon vespers program at two venues within this conference on an upcoming Sabbath. Actually, I have accepted several engagements. The calendar is beginning to fill up quite nicely. The problem with this particular opportunity is that I accepted it in spite of the fact that I was already committed to spending that day with my family in California. Family, in this case, includes Penny, my wife (who is presently still in California), my children, and grandchildren, and extended family. It was one of the "blackout" dates in my calendar. Now you see my dilemma.
My family was quite chagrined when they found out I had accepted a preaching engagement for Sabbath morning. They conceded Friday, after I explained that I would still be able to meet them later that afternoon if I left right after the church service. I was home free. Then I accepted the second one, rationalizing the fact that I could still get their later that night and then enjoy Sunday with the family. That didn't go so well. I found myself in the proverbial doghouse. Now I need to fix it.
So tomorrow I will have to call the people I assured I would be at their school to speak for their vespers program to inform them I will not be able to honor that commitment. I dread doing it. I would rather have my fingernails pulled back from my fingers. But the alternative is even less palatable.
The sad thing is that it's not the first time I have put myself in this unenviable predicament. I hope it will be the last time. I must learn that I am not defined by what I do professionally or ecclesiologically. I am first and foremost just a man, who happens to be a husband, a father, and a grandfather. My family is an integral part of what I do and of who I am. They are not one and the same. Lesson learned, once again.
I wonder if a vegetarian can "eat crow" and still be a vegetarian?
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Sabbath Reflections
It's Sabbath. It's also September 11. It's my eldest brother's birthday. It's also 9/11. I am feeling very conflicted today. You would think I shouldn't be, after all doesn't the personal and the spiritual trump the distant and the tangible? And if it does, why that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach at the mention of 9/11?
I guess it boils down to seminal national moments that change the hue of so many other moments that come along years after the original. For those of us old enough to accumulate such events, we can probably number them on one hand. For me the list includes the John F. Kennedy Assassination. I remember coming home from 1st grade in Redlands, California and seeing my mother crying in front of our tiny black and white TV- 1963. The next is the Challenger Explosion. The Seminary. Berrien Springs, Michigan. 1984. I ran back home to Maplewood Apartment D-74 like a madman when I heard the news. The images will forever be seared in my mind. The third is September 11, 2001. It was my first year as principal at Orangewood Academy, in Garden Grove, California. I was walking off the Metrolink train and overheard people talking about a plane accidentally hitting one of the Twin Towers. I got to school after the second plane had struck and it was clear this was no longer an accident. I went through a myriad of emotions that day. I didn't have much time to process. The safety of my students was a priority. Many tears and silent moments of corporate reflection were shared that day and for days to come. The events of that day consumed the conversations of young and old.
I can recall minute and otherwise insignificant details of those days. Which brings me back to my original thought-- what trumps what? Will there be a time when those infamous days will fade under the avalanche of emotion associated with another monumental day? I have to believe so. When evil, in all its forms and guises (foreign and domestic), is banished forever and the Kingdom of God is no longer a future longing caught between the blessed hope and the cruel reality of an imperfect and chaotic world-- now there is an event that trumps everything. Until then--I will trumpet and live out the principles of love for all that define that other-worldly kingdom while I pray that eternity-breaching day and the King who made it possible, will arrive soon.
By the way-- Happy Birthday, Ernie. And Happy Sabbath to the rest of you.
I guess it boils down to seminal national moments that change the hue of so many other moments that come along years after the original. For those of us old enough to accumulate such events, we can probably number them on one hand. For me the list includes the John F. Kennedy Assassination. I remember coming home from 1st grade in Redlands, California and seeing my mother crying in front of our tiny black and white TV- 1963. The next is the Challenger Explosion. The Seminary. Berrien Springs, Michigan. 1984. I ran back home to Maplewood Apartment D-74 like a madman when I heard the news. The images will forever be seared in my mind. The third is September 11, 2001. It was my first year as principal at Orangewood Academy, in Garden Grove, California. I was walking off the Metrolink train and overheard people talking about a plane accidentally hitting one of the Twin Towers. I got to school after the second plane had struck and it was clear this was no longer an accident. I went through a myriad of emotions that day. I didn't have much time to process. The safety of my students was a priority. Many tears and silent moments of corporate reflection were shared that day and for days to come. The events of that day consumed the conversations of young and old.
I can recall minute and otherwise insignificant details of those days. Which brings me back to my original thought-- what trumps what? Will there be a time when those infamous days will fade under the avalanche of emotion associated with another monumental day? I have to believe so. When evil, in all its forms and guises (foreign and domestic), is banished forever and the Kingdom of God is no longer a future longing caught between the blessed hope and the cruel reality of an imperfect and chaotic world-- now there is an event that trumps everything. Until then--I will trumpet and live out the principles of love for all that define that other-worldly kingdom while I pray that eternity-breaching day and the King who made it possible, will arrive soon.
By the way-- Happy Birthday, Ernie. And Happy Sabbath to the rest of you.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Computer D-Day is Here
I am writing my final paragraphs on the computer system as it exists now. In a matter hours I will be working on a desktop computer while my ASUS laptop computer is going through a cyber-lobotomy. The IT Doctor is having me back up all my files to an external hard drive in order to have my documents secured in case of a worst case scenario.
I do not know what the future holds. I trust I will come out the other side relatively intact and unscathed. I am hoping this brings a long-awaited end to the litany of cyber-symptoms and general malaise that had brought my already challenged productivity to a standstill. It has made a difficult transition even more harrowing. I will let you know...soon…. Signing off….
I do not know what the future holds. I trust I will come out the other side relatively intact and unscathed. I am hoping this brings a long-awaited end to the litany of cyber-symptoms and general malaise that had brought my already challenged productivity to a standstill. It has made a difficult transition even more harrowing. I will let you know...soon…. Signing off….
Monday, September 6, 2010
Sunday Morning Recap
After an eventful and busy week, which included an Education Board and an Executive Committee, the work week in Arizona ended with my providing entertainment and transportation for my nephew AJ who was in Phoenix to take his Nurse Anesthetist Boards on Thursday (which he passed with flying colors).
As a result, I ended up in Southern California a bit earlier than previously planned-- Thursday evening. Friday morning had been set aside for moving my mother's belongings from storage in my garage and from a PS storage facility in La Sierra, to her new residence in Desert Hot Springs, about 45 miles east of Riverside. She was secured affordable housing and care at a Senior Living facility. It will provide her the supervision she needs and the independence she clings to.
The move took place during the heat of the day, due to a number of complications that stretched my patience, not to mention my allotted time. It was 114 degrees while I was unloading the items from the van by myself, and carrying them from the parking lot to the apartment unit in the heart of the open courtyard. It was not a pleasant experience, although it was nice to do something for my all-too-independent mom. She was not there to help either.
Friday night brought some friends over to my son's house for a spirited discussion pertaining to Sabbath School teaching philosophy, the authority of Scripture, discussion versus facilitating styles, and theology. It was great. It reminded me of one of the things I will miss most while I am in Arizona-- the family "Friday Night at the Escalantes" tradition of gathering at one of our nuclear family homes for food and frank discussions regarding important spiritual and social themes. Family and friends often joined us. The discussions often went into the late of night, making rising the next morning a challenge.
I was honored to preach for Kid's Church at the La Sierra Spanish SDA Church on Sabbath morning. I enjoyed the rest of Sabbath with my extended family. It was wonderful. It will be nice when distance will be relative and time will be irrelevant when it comes to gatherings of family and friends in heaven. I still can't fathom how that will work, but I am looking forward to adjusting.
For the time being I will have to get used to the idea of separation from Penny, my children, my grandchildren, and my family. I will have to do relish every moment I have with them and treasure my new family and friends in Arizona. I will have to work harder to put myself out of business by doing my part to get people (young ones, in my case) to connect with their Savior. When earth's present history comes to a close and eternity begins in the new heaven and new earth God has in store-- I will officially be out of business and can find my joy once again in one of the common denominators between the present and the forever-- family and friends.
I better get back to practicing. See you on Monday in Arizona. Have a great Labor Day!
As a result, I ended up in Southern California a bit earlier than previously planned-- Thursday evening. Friday morning had been set aside for moving my mother's belongings from storage in my garage and from a PS storage facility in La Sierra, to her new residence in Desert Hot Springs, about 45 miles east of Riverside. She was secured affordable housing and care at a Senior Living facility. It will provide her the supervision she needs and the independence she clings to.
The move took place during the heat of the day, due to a number of complications that stretched my patience, not to mention my allotted time. It was 114 degrees while I was unloading the items from the van by myself, and carrying them from the parking lot to the apartment unit in the heart of the open courtyard. It was not a pleasant experience, although it was nice to do something for my all-too-independent mom. She was not there to help either.
Friday night brought some friends over to my son's house for a spirited discussion pertaining to Sabbath School teaching philosophy, the authority of Scripture, discussion versus facilitating styles, and theology. It was great. It reminded me of one of the things I will miss most while I am in Arizona-- the family "Friday Night at the Escalantes" tradition of gathering at one of our nuclear family homes for food and frank discussions regarding important spiritual and social themes. Family and friends often joined us. The discussions often went into the late of night, making rising the next morning a challenge.
I was honored to preach for Kid's Church at the La Sierra Spanish SDA Church on Sabbath morning. I enjoyed the rest of Sabbath with my extended family. It was wonderful. It will be nice when distance will be relative and time will be irrelevant when it comes to gatherings of family and friends in heaven. I still can't fathom how that will work, but I am looking forward to adjusting.
For the time being I will have to get used to the idea of separation from Penny, my children, my grandchildren, and my family. I will have to do relish every moment I have with them and treasure my new family and friends in Arizona. I will have to work harder to put myself out of business by doing my part to get people (young ones, in my case) to connect with their Savior. When earth's present history comes to a close and eternity begins in the new heaven and new earth God has in store-- I will officially be out of business and can find my joy once again in one of the common denominators between the present and the forever-- family and friends.
I better get back to practicing. See you on Monday in Arizona. Have a great Labor Day!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Near Meltdown at Executive Board
Don't ask how it happened. Perhaps it's the accumulation of stress-related events lined up one after the other in this assembly line of crises. The problem with that scenario is that I haven't had a stressful day at the office since I arrived in Arizona a month and a half ago. I am sure those days will arrive in due time, but for now I have enjoyed every moment of my short stint at the conference office.
Perhaps then it was the back to back meetings. Yesterday I was, as previously mentioned in yesterday's entry, responsible for the Education Board. But it was an uneventful and routine meeting. In fact, as I recall, I scheduled myself for the devotional that opened the meeting. Perhaps that best explains the awkward moment at the start of today's Executive Board Meeting.
You might benefit from a brief explanation regarding the Executive Board. The Executive Board is the equivalent of the presidential chiefs of staff, except with legislative powers and judicial authority. They are the top of the administrative food chain in the conference administrative structure. They trump the president, the secretary, and the treasurer. As a matter of protocol, the president of the conference chairs the committee but, by definition, cannot make a motion or vote unless there is a tie vote. In other words, this meeting made yesterday's meeting marginal. Yesterday I was in charge, although the president chaired that committee as well. Today I was a mere invitee to be called upon to report to the Executive Board about my department. I was a bit anxious, but not stressed. Then it happened.
The meeting began with brief and humorous remarks by the president. I was relaxing with the Communication Director and the Director of Literature Ministries, when I the following words emanated from the mouth of the chairman of the Executive Board-- "Well, Ruben, come share your devotional thoughts with us." He spoke the words with conviction and confidence a friend would have in someone who would certainly respond.
My initial reaction was to laugh it off as a joke. After all, the president is known to have a wry sense of humor. What could be funnier than putting the newly appointed Superintendent of Education on the spot with an off the cuff remark about leading the group in an unannounced devotional thought. "Very funny!" I thought the words to myself and almost let them escape from my lips. But then a sinking feeling enveloped me immediately as I recalled a request made a couple of weeks ago to prepare, in fact, a devotional thought for the Executive Board of the Arizona Conference Corporation of Seventh-day Adventists. "What better way," I recalled him saying, "to have the committee get to know their new superintendent. A silent Charlie Brown-like "Aaaaaarrrrgh!" resonated in my ears like the sound of a thousand fire alarms being set off simultaneously.
I grabbed my folder and began to rise and move towards the front of the room. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me on the spot. I was not prepared-- at all. I had forgotten my first duty at the most inopportune time. I must have been in a state of post-traumatic, temporary insanity due to a break in my space continuum. I walked slowly but deliberately and stood before the group of well-dressed and obviously well-educated leaders of this state-wide organization. I am almost certain that if there was a psychologist amongst them, she or he may have noticed the shifting eyes and nervous twitches. The rest is a mental blur and a miracle of God wrapped up in one.
I began talking, but not really speaking. I remember saying something about Noah and the ark and animals and the long time he may have been cooped up in the ark with hundreds, if not thousands, of animals. I suddenly and clumsily segued to a reference about being uncomfortable in the water and about having a dis-taste for water travel. How that fit in with anything prior or following is beyond me. I was groping for something to hang on to, as perhaps those outside the ark during the deluge. Before I knew it I had segued again to a disconnected reference to the possible reason why I was so ambivalent about water travel. I was sinking fast. Maybe that was the flood reference connection.
Then the miracle! I was inexplicably impressed to latch on to a story about Pathfinders, kids, water, and common causes. The words began to flow with ease and with conviction. By the end of my short story the message, albeit totally unrelated by any reasonable stretch of narrative liberties, became clear to all in the room. We were there for one reason and one reason alone-- to draw souls to the Savior. Unless we see all our plans and activities through the prism of that task, then we are destined to spin our wheels in the muck and mire of contention and controversy. What a waste of time, energy, and resources.
I closed with prayer as if at the end of a full sermon. It didn't matter that prayer was another separate item on the agenda. I just prayed for the task before us, as a committee and as a people.
Boy, am I glad God is good! I think I now know how Peter felt, except without the walking on the water part....
Perhaps then it was the back to back meetings. Yesterday I was, as previously mentioned in yesterday's entry, responsible for the Education Board. But it was an uneventful and routine meeting. In fact, as I recall, I scheduled myself for the devotional that opened the meeting. Perhaps that best explains the awkward moment at the start of today's Executive Board Meeting.
You might benefit from a brief explanation regarding the Executive Board. The Executive Board is the equivalent of the presidential chiefs of staff, except with legislative powers and judicial authority. They are the top of the administrative food chain in the conference administrative structure. They trump the president, the secretary, and the treasurer. As a matter of protocol, the president of the conference chairs the committee but, by definition, cannot make a motion or vote unless there is a tie vote. In other words, this meeting made yesterday's meeting marginal. Yesterday I was in charge, although the president chaired that committee as well. Today I was a mere invitee to be called upon to report to the Executive Board about my department. I was a bit anxious, but not stressed. Then it happened.
The meeting began with brief and humorous remarks by the president. I was relaxing with the Communication Director and the Director of Literature Ministries, when I the following words emanated from the mouth of the chairman of the Executive Board-- "Well, Ruben, come share your devotional thoughts with us." He spoke the words with conviction and confidence a friend would have in someone who would certainly respond.
My initial reaction was to laugh it off as a joke. After all, the president is known to have a wry sense of humor. What could be funnier than putting the newly appointed Superintendent of Education on the spot with an off the cuff remark about leading the group in an unannounced devotional thought. "Very funny!" I thought the words to myself and almost let them escape from my lips. But then a sinking feeling enveloped me immediately as I recalled a request made a couple of weeks ago to prepare, in fact, a devotional thought for the Executive Board of the Arizona Conference Corporation of Seventh-day Adventists. "What better way," I recalled him saying, "to have the committee get to know their new superintendent. A silent Charlie Brown-like "Aaaaaarrrrgh!" resonated in my ears like the sound of a thousand fire alarms being set off simultaneously.
I grabbed my folder and began to rise and move towards the front of the room. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me on the spot. I was not prepared-- at all. I had forgotten my first duty at the most inopportune time. I must have been in a state of post-traumatic, temporary insanity due to a break in my space continuum. I walked slowly but deliberately and stood before the group of well-dressed and obviously well-educated leaders of this state-wide organization. I am almost certain that if there was a psychologist amongst them, she or he may have noticed the shifting eyes and nervous twitches. The rest is a mental blur and a miracle of God wrapped up in one.
I began talking, but not really speaking. I remember saying something about Noah and the ark and animals and the long time he may have been cooped up in the ark with hundreds, if not thousands, of animals. I suddenly and clumsily segued to a reference about being uncomfortable in the water and about having a dis-taste for water travel. How that fit in with anything prior or following is beyond me. I was groping for something to hang on to, as perhaps those outside the ark during the deluge. Before I knew it I had segued again to a disconnected reference to the possible reason why I was so ambivalent about water travel. I was sinking fast. Maybe that was the flood reference connection.
Then the miracle! I was inexplicably impressed to latch on to a story about Pathfinders, kids, water, and common causes. The words began to flow with ease and with conviction. By the end of my short story the message, albeit totally unrelated by any reasonable stretch of narrative liberties, became clear to all in the room. We were there for one reason and one reason alone-- to draw souls to the Savior. Unless we see all our plans and activities through the prism of that task, then we are destined to spin our wheels in the muck and mire of contention and controversy. What a waste of time, energy, and resources.
I closed with prayer as if at the end of a full sermon. It didn't matter that prayer was another separate item on the agenda. I just prayed for the task before us, as a committee and as a people.
Boy, am I glad God is good! I think I now know how Peter felt, except without the walking on the water part....
My First Ed.Board
I am a bit reluctant to talk about today. After all, I don't want to come across as some juvenile recounting his first kiss, but the truth is that until I become old hat at this, there is a newness about the "firsts" of anything related to the official role I have in this new world of conference administration.
Today I had the opportunity to experience my first Education Board as a superintendent. I have served on Education Boards before, as a teacher representative and as a minister, back in a previous life in Southern California. But this is different. I am the person responsible for the meeting.
First of all, I put the agenda together. Putting agendas together is not a new experience, by any means. But I have my own ideas, learned over the years, regarding how a board should function. But here I was referring back to agenda samples of my predecessor to see how things were done here. That was uncomfortable, but I managed to put together a working agenda that would not raise many eyebrows. I succeeded to that extent, but I was not satisfied.
Secondly, there was the matter of a Superintendent's Report. The previous occupant of the office I now work in had a personal way of making his report. They were scripted-- from the "good afternoon" at the beginning to the "thank you" at the end of the report. I am not a script person. I am more an outline sort of person. But I understand the need for a tangible report that provides salient information that the Education Board members can digest. I think I created an outline that provided more information than needed. The good news is that I was able to begin to lift the veil to the plans for the future of Adventist Education in Arizona.
If the fact that a report elicits questions and inquiries is a good indicator that the presentation was effective, then I was successful to that extent as well. It was exciting to see people begin to ask questions regarding possible future initiatives. There is a lot to do. No one person can accomplish what needs to take place. Perhaps in time we will look back at this meeting as the one that began the march towards a new day in Adventist Education. Maybe all new administrators feel this way. How long before I blend back into the gray backdrop of compliance and accommodation?
Having those words come out of my mouth gives me a sense of excitement mixed with hefty dose of reality. I want to be an agent of change, but I cannot help but wonder what will become of the dreams and goals over time. No question there is a certain amount of self-doubt. That can be an asset, I suppose, since it will keep me from becoming full of myself. This is, after all, not about me. I still believe it is a God thing. I am just honored to be along for the ride.
My nephew, AJ, flew in this afternoon. He is taking his boards in town tomorrow morning. I have a 5:30 a.m. wake up call (and my blogging session was interrupted by an hour and a half phone discussion with my son Robert, regarding the balance between being a Scripture-led and Spirit-led Christian). Good morning! Time for bed!
Today I had the opportunity to experience my first Education Board as a superintendent. I have served on Education Boards before, as a teacher representative and as a minister, back in a previous life in Southern California. But this is different. I am the person responsible for the meeting.
First of all, I put the agenda together. Putting agendas together is not a new experience, by any means. But I have my own ideas, learned over the years, regarding how a board should function. But here I was referring back to agenda samples of my predecessor to see how things were done here. That was uncomfortable, but I managed to put together a working agenda that would not raise many eyebrows. I succeeded to that extent, but I was not satisfied.
Secondly, there was the matter of a Superintendent's Report. The previous occupant of the office I now work in had a personal way of making his report. They were scripted-- from the "good afternoon" at the beginning to the "thank you" at the end of the report. I am not a script person. I am more an outline sort of person. But I understand the need for a tangible report that provides salient information that the Education Board members can digest. I think I created an outline that provided more information than needed. The good news is that I was able to begin to lift the veil to the plans for the future of Adventist Education in Arizona.
If the fact that a report elicits questions and inquiries is a good indicator that the presentation was effective, then I was successful to that extent as well. It was exciting to see people begin to ask questions regarding possible future initiatives. There is a lot to do. No one person can accomplish what needs to take place. Perhaps in time we will look back at this meeting as the one that began the march towards a new day in Adventist Education. Maybe all new administrators feel this way. How long before I blend back into the gray backdrop of compliance and accommodation?
Having those words come out of my mouth gives me a sense of excitement mixed with hefty dose of reality. I want to be an agent of change, but I cannot help but wonder what will become of the dreams and goals over time. No question there is a certain amount of self-doubt. That can be an asset, I suppose, since it will keep me from becoming full of myself. This is, after all, not about me. I still believe it is a God thing. I am just honored to be along for the ride.
My nephew, AJ, flew in this afternoon. He is taking his boards in town tomorrow morning. I have a 5:30 a.m. wake up call (and my blogging session was interrupted by an hour and a half phone discussion with my son Robert, regarding the balance between being a Scripture-led and Spirit-led Christian). Good morning! Time for bed!
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