Thirty Eight Years

FROM THE PASTOR
“Thirty Eight Years”

In a rural Methodist church on the west side of Maui, a small seed was planted. Every Sunday the church bell would ring calling the people to worship. A young boy’s heart was stirred.
That village was named Puukolii after a flower.
Yes, it was mine. My mother reminded me that at one point she was ill and couldn’t iron my Sunday clothes. I told her, “I’ll iron my own clothes.” I did. That began a journey.
Never in my wildest dream had I thought I would be a pastor. I walked through many thresholds—carpentry, baseball, 4-H, FFA,agricultural training, student teaching, national park ministry, youth work in three different states, Peace Corps, inner city teaching, —which laid many foundations.
In the sum of these experiences, there was an unseen hand guiding me along without my full awareness. I realized in time, God was calling me into the ministry. Along the way, I met people whose faith and knowledge stirred this call. Add to this a dream-encounter with Christ as a child. A personal conversion was another stamp toward this direction.
This call became clear in a collection of experiences, a deep hunger to learn more about the inner spirit and life, the love for serving people, and theological reflection and clarity.
One summer when I was visiting at the Lahaina Methodist Church potluck, Dr. Frank Butterworth had brought a church tour to Maui. He heard there was a young seminarian from Indiana. I met him. He said me, “Dennis, Irene and I want to have lunch with you.” I said, “I can’t, I work at the Maui Hilton.” He said, “We’ll meet you there for lunch. One door opened and another. By February the next year, I had a job at the Palolo United Methodist Church in Honolulu in education and youth and a ministry to low income families.
This provided a laboratory to complete my master’s project from the Earlham School of Religion; the University of Hawaii Research Center provided staff ressource. Pastoral call is a journey of stepping stones. This was another.


Rev. Dale Smith invited me to be on staff at the First United Methodist Church in Honolulu where I served for another two years and here, Sylvia and I were married. I was now a certified Lay Pastor.
The School of Theology at Claremont brought me to California to receive my advanced Doctor of Ministry degree.
Calexico. It’s summer heat was awful, the warmth of the people memorable. I cried when we left. Jeremy’s first birthday was a church affair. I was ordained an elder.
Santee. As a young pastor, I so enjoyed working and helping build a new sanctuary and offices. For two years, almost every Saturday was work party. Santee became a city and I was privileged to give the invocation at the inaugural council meeting. It was a wonderful home for Sylvia, Jeremy and Aaron, and me. Our final departure was riding in a red Cadillac convertible in the Santee Parade as Citizen of the Year. Oh, the memories.
Reseda. A well established church in San Fernando Valley. It had a wonderful choir, great leaders, many teachers and professors willing to serve, and a loving people. We had a good softball team.
Chula Vista. A church in process of building a new complex, it had its challenges. It was short stay.
Fallbrook. What can I say. Fifteen years—you know the story. Many lives touched, a church with expanding mission, a warm hospitable people, a place we have called home. We survived three major fire storms, 2001, 2003, and 2007. Thank you all for your kindness, generosity, and expressions of love.
Retirement awaits me. What does it mean? How do I know? I got some ideas and I am getting more.
I will encounter further the true teachings of Christ. There are still more stepping stones ahead of me.
—Dennis Ginoza