It’s been too long since my last blog. A few days can get away from you so quickly. It’s easy to get lost in the myriad of activities and tasks that beckon for our constant attention.
Rather than recounting all the events of the last seven days I will focus on a couple of events of this past weekend. Penny was in town. She arrived late Friday night. I was on Good News TV while she was on the road. I co-hosted a program titled Praying for the Sabbath, a one hour program that consists of two people taking prayer requests from viewers while on the air. The challenging part is to keep a coherent conversation going between requests.
There is always the fear that no one will call, which requires a much higher level of engagement between co-hosts. Pastor Jay, pastor of the Thunderbird Academy church, was the consummate professional host. He is the host most every Friday. I, on the other hand, was a novice thrown into the fray without as much as a dab of make-up or training. There was no obvious meltdown. It was a very pleasant experience. I have no idea whether I will ever be asked to return for an encore.
Saturday was a busy day. I had been asked to be the main speaker for the first Generation Joven Youth Rally for Adventist youth from all over Arizona (yes, those are two different languages in one slogan). The morning sermon was quite nondescript. 500 or so young people were seated in a high school auditorium. There was lots of music and a variety of attempts to engage the multitude. I got up to preach at about 11:50 a.m. I did not feel the sermon went well at all. I felt disjointed and off sequence. I am glad that the success or failure of a particular sermon is not dependent on my perfect or less than adequate delivery.
I sense the afternoon sermon came across much more smoothly. Of course it consisted of all of five minutes—a generous five minutes. My words came at the end of a two and a half hour marathon of music, dialogue, and drama, followed by an appeal following the drama. That was prior to my being presented to the 200 or so young people anticipating a full-fledged sermon. I tried to think what a typical young person would be feeling at that particular moment. In spite of cameras set up to record the sermon at the end of the program and a certain self-imposed expectation I simply sang an a capella Spanish version of Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus, spoke for three minutes—tops, and then closed with prayer.
I got many compliments on my sermon. I would not be surprised if it might be ranked by the youth in attendance as one of the best sermons they had ever heard, if for no other reason than that it was only five minutes long. I hope the message landed before they realized it was over. Such is preaching. I am glad to be part of whatever God does.
Sunday was spent painting three homes on the campus of Thunderbird Academy, with a short break for breakfast/brunch with Penny, before she left for Riverside a little after 12 o’clock noon. I did not cheat myself out a full weekend. Now, if I can only survive the week!
Monday, October 18, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
My First Union Meetings
I can’t believe it is already Tuesday of a new week. I don’t know when was the last time I blogged, but my wife told me she had not seen a blog for a couple of days. So here I am again.
I write from Riverside, California, where I am spending the evenings after my meetings in Ontario, California—about 20 miles due northwest of my present location. I am attending the Pacific Union Conference K-12 Curriculum Committee, a semi-annual gathering that deals with elementary and secondary curriculum issues, in addition to voting or recommending policy to another committee who passes it on to yet another committee, and so on…. It is the way certain systems work. There is a place for such protocol. It makes me more than a bit impatient, while I understand at some level the need to be cautious when establishing policy that will affect a large number of people for years to come (or until the system realizes that there is a better way to do things—at which point the system begins the process to change the policy by establishing an ad hoc committee).
It was productive day, although I arrived an hour late to the morning meeting, which I had entered on my calendar at the exact time I arrived. It was a bit embarrassing to arrive late to my first Union meeting (not a labor union, by the way). I spoke up a few times and made my contributions, even a motion to take to the next level meeting, during the morning and afternoon meetings. I sat next to BA (to protect his/her identity), who kept me alert with his/her acerbic humor and running commentary of the proceedings, when she/he was not texting or reading the newspaper. She/he has obviously attended many prior meetings.
I was left wondering whether our discussion and input makes any difference in the long run. I hope it does, since it would be a waste of time and resources to bring this many people together for an exercise in futility. I wonder how many similar committees meet how often all over this country and globe? How much money is spent on organization and protocol? Is it a necessary evil? Is it simply necessary for a large system to place sufficient levels of checks and balances to counterbalance the propensity of a few to mandate for the many? Have we drifted afar or are we trying to perpetuate the biblical organization structure spoken of in the Book of Acts and the Pauline Epistles? Such thoughts!
I better shut down. Another full day of meetings awaits me tomorrow. Oh, joy!
I write from Riverside, California, where I am spending the evenings after my meetings in Ontario, California—about 20 miles due northwest of my present location. I am attending the Pacific Union Conference K-12 Curriculum Committee, a semi-annual gathering that deals with elementary and secondary curriculum issues, in addition to voting or recommending policy to another committee who passes it on to yet another committee, and so on…. It is the way certain systems work. There is a place for such protocol. It makes me more than a bit impatient, while I understand at some level the need to be cautious when establishing policy that will affect a large number of people for years to come (or until the system realizes that there is a better way to do things—at which point the system begins the process to change the policy by establishing an ad hoc committee).
It was productive day, although I arrived an hour late to the morning meeting, which I had entered on my calendar at the exact time I arrived. It was a bit embarrassing to arrive late to my first Union meeting (not a labor union, by the way). I spoke up a few times and made my contributions, even a motion to take to the next level meeting, during the morning and afternoon meetings. I sat next to BA (to protect his/her identity), who kept me alert with his/her acerbic humor and running commentary of the proceedings, when she/he was not texting or reading the newspaper. She/he has obviously attended many prior meetings.
I was left wondering whether our discussion and input makes any difference in the long run. I hope it does, since it would be a waste of time and resources to bring this many people together for an exercise in futility. I wonder how many similar committees meet how often all over this country and globe? How much money is spent on organization and protocol? Is it a necessary evil? Is it simply necessary for a large system to place sufficient levels of checks and balances to counterbalance the propensity of a few to mandate for the many? Have we drifted afar or are we trying to perpetuate the biblical organization structure spoken of in the Book of Acts and the Pauline Epistles? Such thoughts!
I better shut down. Another full day of meetings awaits me tomorrow. Oh, joy!
Friday, October 8, 2010
Northern Exposure
It’s been a couple days since my last confession…blog. It’s been a busy couple of days. In spite of what my brother, Art, may think, my days do not consist of short days with long lunch breaks— as a matter of fact, I take two long meal breaks in between my daily golf ministries commitments and my daily midafternoon nap time which provides ample opportunity for my virtual school visits. Oh, yeah, there are some committees that are required…but I send my regrets in anticipation of my absence.
I’m glad I got that off my chest! Now back to blogging. It’s Friday morning. The office is on a four-day schedule, as far as office hours are concerned. I am at home preparing for my sermon at the Midvale SDA Church in southern Tucson, AZ. My four-day office week became a three-day week since I had scheduled myself for a visit and observation day at the Verde Valley and Prescott schools. (I would schedule myself every day, just to get out of the office, but then I would miss my naps.)
I had not had a chance to get back to those schools since before their school years started. I am glad I went back. What I found were two schools full of children that love their school and their teachers. I found students who were courteous, kind, and considerate. The Verde Valley School was operating in the dark, since their electricity had been knocked out by a violent thunderstorm the previous day. The students went about their day with aplomb. The teacher dealt with the students individually, according to their needs. It was a thing of beauty.
Prescott, where I spent the afternoon and evening, due a scheduled School Board Meeting at the church, is a school reborn according to all the people I spoke to at the church. Last year the church was struggling to justify keeping the school open with only six students and a facility that was in disrepair. Without going into details, a new teacher was providentially raised from the community. He and his wife have turned the school around. They gutted and refurbished the classrooms. They recruited. They raised the awareness of the value of an Adventist education. They changed perceptions in the church and community. They have 18 students this year, with plans to grow and expand the school.
It was a long but rewarding day in northern Arizona. Donna Oft, the principal at the Verde Valley school, and I had an opportunity to talk for a considerable amount of time during my stay. She is very encouraged—and it shows. They are doing some very creative things to enhance their program. Parents are delighted with their choice to place their children in the school. Aaron Long, and his wife Carrie, are full of ideas and energy. Some big things are going to come out of this bold initiative in Prescott. I have a sense that the ripples from Arizona are going to begin to be felt across the Adventist system. It is an exciting, albeit challenging, time to be involved in Adventist Education.
I better get back to work; my nap time is almost here….
I’m glad I got that off my chest! Now back to blogging. It’s Friday morning. The office is on a four-day schedule, as far as office hours are concerned. I am at home preparing for my sermon at the Midvale SDA Church in southern Tucson, AZ. My four-day office week became a three-day week since I had scheduled myself for a visit and observation day at the Verde Valley and Prescott schools. (I would schedule myself every day, just to get out of the office, but then I would miss my naps.)
I had not had a chance to get back to those schools since before their school years started. I am glad I went back. What I found were two schools full of children that love their school and their teachers. I found students who were courteous, kind, and considerate. The Verde Valley School was operating in the dark, since their electricity had been knocked out by a violent thunderstorm the previous day. The students went about their day with aplomb. The teacher dealt with the students individually, according to their needs. It was a thing of beauty.
Prescott, where I spent the afternoon and evening, due a scheduled School Board Meeting at the church, is a school reborn according to all the people I spoke to at the church. Last year the church was struggling to justify keeping the school open with only six students and a facility that was in disrepair. Without going into details, a new teacher was providentially raised from the community. He and his wife have turned the school around. They gutted and refurbished the classrooms. They recruited. They raised the awareness of the value of an Adventist education. They changed perceptions in the church and community. They have 18 students this year, with plans to grow and expand the school.
It was a long but rewarding day in northern Arizona. Donna Oft, the principal at the Verde Valley school, and I had an opportunity to talk for a considerable amount of time during my stay. She is very encouraged—and it shows. They are doing some very creative things to enhance their program. Parents are delighted with their choice to place their children in the school. Aaron Long, and his wife Carrie, are full of ideas and energy. Some big things are going to come out of this bold initiative in Prescott. I have a sense that the ripples from Arizona are going to begin to be felt across the Adventist system. It is an exciting, albeit challenging, time to be involved in Adventist Education.
I better get back to work; my nap time is almost here….
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
What a Day!
It happened quite unexpectedly. I was in a conference with a group of Adventist clergy from all across the state. It was mid-afternoon, about 3:15 p.m. or so. The Vice-president for Administration for the Conference, Ed Keyes, was at the podium beginning the final thoughts leading to the final words by the President. People were sitting at their tables. Most were listening. Some were dozing. Others were playing Solitaire on the laptop computers. I was focused on every last word emanating from his lips. Of course that may have been because I was sitting next to the president, who was preparing to take his place behind the pulpit.
All of a sudden—and I mean all of a sudden; it sounded like the building was being sprayed with gun fire by a large mortar machine gun. At first there was confusion. Perhaps the noise was due to the thunder from an oncoming storm cell. But the thunder did not stop. There were flashes of lighting and loud thunderclaps, for certain, but I doubt they alone would have stopped the meeting as this did. The noise was deafening. Suddenly some of the pastors began standing on the chairs against the back wall to look out the windows which were seven feet off the floor. It is then that I saw what appeared to be hail falling from the sky. I surmised that the hail was causing the noise due to the rate at which it was falling, but I doubt the meeting would have come to a standstill solely over an intense hailstorm.
Then I saw it. And I saw it again. Perhaps I should say I saw “them.” At first I couldn’t believe it. I had to get a better look. All the chairs against the back wall were already occupied by pastors staring at the sight taking place outside the back window. I scurried out of the room in search of a better vantage point. I found myself looking out the front glass entrance to the conference office—together with twenty or so other people. It was amazing, especially to a native Californian, city-dweller like me. I had only seen this on the evening news, where pictures of hailstorms from the Panhandle of Texas or another Midwest enclave were beamed into my living room. But now I was looking at this scene in true living color. The landscape outside the conference office was being peppered with hail stones at a rate I had never witnessed before. Some of the stones were quite large. It would not be an exaggeration to say they were golf ball-sized hail stones. And they were coming down with incredible force!
The room almost emptied as attendees went to see the downpour or to survey the damage to the autos not parked under the limited covered parking. It took a while for the meeting to come back to order. The conversations gravitated mostly around the golf-sized hail stones. There was a buzz in the room. The hailstorm even garnered a reference during the closing prayer. It’s amazing how quickly things can turn. Many of those present will remember the event for a long time, some because their automobiles were dinged many times or their windshields were cracked. What a day!
What a day, indeed, when earth’s history will suddenly come to close. I have often wondered how such an event will sneak up on people. But it will, just like we were surprised but the intensity of the storm, although we had seen the clouds, and the wind, and the warning signals in the distance. But we had seen such signs and scenes many times before and nothing like this ever happened. “And so it shall be at the coming of the Son of Man….” What a Day!
All of a sudden—and I mean all of a sudden; it sounded like the building was being sprayed with gun fire by a large mortar machine gun. At first there was confusion. Perhaps the noise was due to the thunder from an oncoming storm cell. But the thunder did not stop. There were flashes of lighting and loud thunderclaps, for certain, but I doubt they alone would have stopped the meeting as this did. The noise was deafening. Suddenly some of the pastors began standing on the chairs against the back wall to look out the windows which were seven feet off the floor. It is then that I saw what appeared to be hail falling from the sky. I surmised that the hail was causing the noise due to the rate at which it was falling, but I doubt the meeting would have come to a standstill solely over an intense hailstorm.
Then I saw it. And I saw it again. Perhaps I should say I saw “them.” At first I couldn’t believe it. I had to get a better look. All the chairs against the back wall were already occupied by pastors staring at the sight taking place outside the back window. I scurried out of the room in search of a better vantage point. I found myself looking out the front glass entrance to the conference office—together with twenty or so other people. It was amazing, especially to a native Californian, city-dweller like me. I had only seen this on the evening news, where pictures of hailstorms from the Panhandle of Texas or another Midwest enclave were beamed into my living room. But now I was looking at this scene in true living color. The landscape outside the conference office was being peppered with hail stones at a rate I had never witnessed before. Some of the stones were quite large. It would not be an exaggeration to say they were golf ball-sized hail stones. And they were coming down with incredible force!
The room almost emptied as attendees went to see the downpour or to survey the damage to the autos not parked under the limited covered parking. It took a while for the meeting to come back to order. The conversations gravitated mostly around the golf-sized hail stones. There was a buzz in the room. The hailstorm even garnered a reference during the closing prayer. It’s amazing how quickly things can turn. Many of those present will remember the event for a long time, some because their automobiles were dinged many times or their windshields were cracked. What a day!
What a day, indeed, when earth’s history will suddenly come to close. I have often wondered how such an event will sneak up on people. But it will, just like we were surprised but the intensity of the storm, although we had seen the clouds, and the wind, and the warning signals in the distance. But we had seen such signs and scenes many times before and nothing like this ever happened. “And so it shall be at the coming of the Son of Man….” What a Day!
Monday, October 4, 2010
Monday Night Football Interruption
It is really the night before Tuesday, but I had a sobering experience while sitting watching Monday Night Football. I felt compelled to write. It’s not like the game mattered much to begin with. I mean the Miami Dolphins versus New England Patriots doesn’t rank up there with the highlights of the football season, much less to a West Coast aficionado (St. Louis—is that West? In the NFL, it is!).
The moment of enlightenment came early in the fourth quarter (or late in the third quarter; I don’t recall anymore) of a game New England was winning handily. I had already lost interest in the game some time earlier, yet I was still glued to the computer screen like some dazed zombie! I was so bored I wandered to the refrigerator and grabbed something to eat. I wasn’t even hungry! My mind was drifting away from the game when I got a call from my son, Ruben, asking for prayer for one of the residents in a family home his wife administers for developmentally delayed adults. One of the consumers (the appropriate term used by those in the system), had had a serious reoccurrence of a very aggressive form of cancer. She does not even know she is dying. She is just living her life oblivious to the fact that the time clock of her life is apparently rapidly winding down.
I asked Ruben if she knew. He said, “No, the family has chosen not to tell her.” How sad. And yet I understand why they would not want to tell her. After all she is happy as a lark enjoying the time with her friends and living in a safe and nurturing environment. She seems fine. I just saw her a week ago and she gave me a “high five.” I have worked with the developmentally disadvantaged for over twenty years. They die too. My son has also been involved with these special people for all those years. He confessed that he needed prayer too. “I still don’t understand why these things happen to these innocent people,” he muttered. He followed that up with what I already know is true. “I have a sensitive side, and so does Janelle (his wife), when it comes to these things.”
At that very moment I was jolted into reality. I was left wondering, who was more clueless? The young mentally challenged young lady who does not know that her time is just around the corner, or me, who knows that there are scores of more important things to do with my limited time (time is relative, you know), but choose to remain glued to the TV screen watching meaningless things? For a moment it became clear to me that at that very moment and perhaps more often than not, I was the more clueless one.
I will pray for my special friend. She is dying of cancer. I will pray for God to give her the strength she will need to go through what awaits her. I will pray for Ruben and Janelle. I will pray for myself-- that God will teach me to better spend His gift of time to me. I could read more. I always need to pray more. I might even write some more. I would benefit from more time for reflection. I need to make myself more accessible to the One who wants so much to reveal Himself to his children—of which I am one of the least of them, but one of them nonetheless.
I am scheduled to give the devotional thought to the entire contingent of Seventh-day Adventist pastors from all over the State of Arizona. I was kind of nervous and reflective about such a responsibility earlier today. I was planning on coming home and reflecting on some thoughts God had put on my mind-- that is, until my thoughts were sequestered by the game. There is nothing wrong with football, mind you; any more than there is anything wrong with volleyball or ping pong. But I fear that for now, it served to distract me from what I should have been focused on tonight.
Ironically, the title of the devotional thought I had begun to prepare for tomorrow is “From Disgrace to a State of Grace.” I am shamed and encouraged at the same time.
I have to go now. I do have some studying yet to do. The game may be over for some; for others time is running out; others just don’t know, but I want to be in the fight when the time is called and the contest is ended.
The moment of enlightenment came early in the fourth quarter (or late in the third quarter; I don’t recall anymore) of a game New England was winning handily. I had already lost interest in the game some time earlier, yet I was still glued to the computer screen like some dazed zombie! I was so bored I wandered to the refrigerator and grabbed something to eat. I wasn’t even hungry! My mind was drifting away from the game when I got a call from my son, Ruben, asking for prayer for one of the residents in a family home his wife administers for developmentally delayed adults. One of the consumers (the appropriate term used by those in the system), had had a serious reoccurrence of a very aggressive form of cancer. She does not even know she is dying. She is just living her life oblivious to the fact that the time clock of her life is apparently rapidly winding down.
I asked Ruben if she knew. He said, “No, the family has chosen not to tell her.” How sad. And yet I understand why they would not want to tell her. After all she is happy as a lark enjoying the time with her friends and living in a safe and nurturing environment. She seems fine. I just saw her a week ago and she gave me a “high five.” I have worked with the developmentally disadvantaged for over twenty years. They die too. My son has also been involved with these special people for all those years. He confessed that he needed prayer too. “I still don’t understand why these things happen to these innocent people,” he muttered. He followed that up with what I already know is true. “I have a sensitive side, and so does Janelle (his wife), when it comes to these things.”
At that very moment I was jolted into reality. I was left wondering, who was more clueless? The young mentally challenged young lady who does not know that her time is just around the corner, or me, who knows that there are scores of more important things to do with my limited time (time is relative, you know), but choose to remain glued to the TV screen watching meaningless things? For a moment it became clear to me that at that very moment and perhaps more often than not, I was the more clueless one.
I will pray for my special friend. She is dying of cancer. I will pray for God to give her the strength she will need to go through what awaits her. I will pray for Ruben and Janelle. I will pray for myself-- that God will teach me to better spend His gift of time to me. I could read more. I always need to pray more. I might even write some more. I would benefit from more time for reflection. I need to make myself more accessible to the One who wants so much to reveal Himself to his children—of which I am one of the least of them, but one of them nonetheless.
I am scheduled to give the devotional thought to the entire contingent of Seventh-day Adventist pastors from all over the State of Arizona. I was kind of nervous and reflective about such a responsibility earlier today. I was planning on coming home and reflecting on some thoughts God had put on my mind-- that is, until my thoughts were sequestered by the game. There is nothing wrong with football, mind you; any more than there is anything wrong with volleyball or ping pong. But I fear that for now, it served to distract me from what I should have been focused on tonight.
Ironically, the title of the devotional thought I had begun to prepare for tomorrow is “From Disgrace to a State of Grace.” I am shamed and encouraged at the same time.
I have to go now. I do have some studying yet to do. The game may be over for some; for others time is running out; others just don’t know, but I want to be in the fight when the time is called and the contest is ended.
Gone Bananas!
It was a wonderful weekend, filled with lots of people, new friends, banana-nut bread, and reading. Penny arrived via Greyhound Bus lines late on Friday evening. Her bus was delayed a couple times along the way. She actually met a couple of Tongan Adventists traveling home from a work week in the Los Angeles area. They were friends of the Tameifunas in Garden Grove. It’s a small world after all!
Other than Penny’s arrival and stay, I enjoyed preaching at the Paradise Valley Church. Penny gave me a “7” for the early service, and a “10” for the later service. Go figure! I enjoyed giving the children’s story during the later service. I even stuck around for potluck and shared the meal with the pastor and his wife, Paul and Donna Gibson. They are wonderful people. They actually sat and talked to us. They even tasted my banana-nut bread. Yes, you heard right, my banana-nut bread—not only by virtue of ownership, but by virtue of the fact that I actually made it from scratch!
I am not sure I have enough time to go into details as to how it came about that I made banana-nut bread. Suffice it to say that I had about eighteen very dark and mysterious bananas that had been in the fruit drawer of my refrigerator for a couple of weeks. It was either toss them out or eat them. I did not want to eat them, since over-ripe bananas are slimy and disgusting to chew or maul or squish in your mouth. I decided, on a whim, to find an internet banana-nut recipe (the first one I saw) and make banana-nut bread with all the near-rotting bananas in my refrigerator.
Lesson learned: read the entire recipe before commencing the task. The result of not doing it, especially if you are a novice, is that you drop all the ingredients in a large metal bowl with no mixer and only a potato masher to mix with. It took a lot of elbow grease to finally mix those ingredients into a workable mixture that would actually mold into the loaf thingies that you put the batter in before putting them in the oven. The kitchen survived. The house did not burn down. I ended the venture at about 2 o’clock in the morning. I ended up with six loaves of very dense, but tasty, banana-nut bread. Have lots of milk available before sitting down to eat these special loaves. And have a phone nearby, in case of emergency due to accidental choking.
I sent a loaf back to California with Penny. I will be watching the evening news for updates.
Other than Penny’s arrival and stay, I enjoyed preaching at the Paradise Valley Church. Penny gave me a “7” for the early service, and a “10” for the later service. Go figure! I enjoyed giving the children’s story during the later service. I even stuck around for potluck and shared the meal with the pastor and his wife, Paul and Donna Gibson. They are wonderful people. They actually sat and talked to us. They even tasted my banana-nut bread. Yes, you heard right, my banana-nut bread—not only by virtue of ownership, but by virtue of the fact that I actually made it from scratch!
I am not sure I have enough time to go into details as to how it came about that I made banana-nut bread. Suffice it to say that I had about eighteen very dark and mysterious bananas that had been in the fruit drawer of my refrigerator for a couple of weeks. It was either toss them out or eat them. I did not want to eat them, since over-ripe bananas are slimy and disgusting to chew or maul or squish in your mouth. I decided, on a whim, to find an internet banana-nut recipe (the first one I saw) and make banana-nut bread with all the near-rotting bananas in my refrigerator.
Lesson learned: read the entire recipe before commencing the task. The result of not doing it, especially if you are a novice, is that you drop all the ingredients in a large metal bowl with no mixer and only a potato masher to mix with. It took a lot of elbow grease to finally mix those ingredients into a workable mixture that would actually mold into the loaf thingies that you put the batter in before putting them in the oven. The kitchen survived. The house did not burn down. I ended the venture at about 2 o’clock in the morning. I ended up with six loaves of very dense, but tasty, banana-nut bread. Have lots of milk available before sitting down to eat these special loaves. And have a phone nearby, in case of emergency due to accidental choking.
I sent a loaf back to California with Penny. I will be watching the evening news for updates.
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