Without God

Without God
Dr. Dennis Ginoza November 12, 2009

Millions are walking this earth without God. How easy that can be. One’s physical needs are so essential that we cannot see beyond them. The social conflicts, the political struggles, and the economic plights have created such turmoil, we have built walls around ourselves which are keeping us from reaching the finer level of spirit.
Plato gave us the allegory of the cave where people are chained and cannot see beyond the moving shadow cast upon a wall. Reality is distorted and what is an illusion is deemed the truth.
We have created a different world for ourselves, illusive, denial ridden, and distorted. This is the world without God. We have become like those whose limits are keeping them from seeing, sensing, and appreciating a world of beauty, truth, and divinity.
Without God, our world is characterized by limits rather than possibilities. We miss a lot. When we are not in harmony with our world which is so filled with God-energies, God-elements, and God-forces, we enter what Leslie Weatherhead calls “a state of dis-ease.” Human experience is conveying to us that living without God is creating for us a greater state of dis-ease. This state has reached a level of great personal and global concern.
Without God, we become like the blind that cannot see the sunset, the deaf that cannot hear the melody of Mozart and Handel, the violent natured who is kept from hearing the birds sing or a voice of love, the uncultured who gets nothing from the halls of great paintings, or the social cripple who fails to build bridges of lasting relationships. Our God relationship is suffering.
In the short run, it appears we can survive without God. In the long run, we see we cannot. The Christian experience simply calls us to step over a line into the light of day. The Bible speaks of “coming to oneself.” Psychology suggests “getting in touch.” Biology hints at “rebuilding onself.” Theology offers “conversion.” Philosophy explores “a new era of thought.”
It is time to step over the line and once again discover a life with God. There seems to be no other way.

The First Snow

The First Snow
Dennis Ginoza November 2, 2009


As we were traveling through Colorado, it was our hope to see the changing of the fall colors. In our hope, instead, we found green pine trees on the mountain slopes and the lower regions. The aspen had just begun to turn slightly, but not to our expectation.

Nature has its cycles, predictable, constant, and continous. This is our general sense. We also come to realize that nature has its quirks, shifts, and surprises. What we do know is that the sun rises and the sun sets. The tides rise and recede, the earth rotates on its axis and moves in its orbit around the sun, rainbows fill the sky as tiny rain drops and sun rays coincide. Nature is a beautiful thing.

So we ask, what happened to the changing of the leaves? In Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa, fall was at the threshold, but had not entered its time. It simply was late. Finally, in late October, in Iowa, the leaves began to change.

As I said earlier, nature has its quirks. The morning of October 12, 2009, when we awoke in Minneapolis, my wife went to the hotel window and she exclaimed: “It’s snowing!”

In the open field, there was a blanket of freshly fallen snow, an incredible sight, refreshing and delightful. A total surprise, we began a new day. Of course, I, born in Hawaii, living now in California, the first snow was a true joy. I hurried downstairs, got out to the fresh snow and, like a little boy, threw a bunch of snowballs.

There is always an excitement when it comes to the first snow. In my freshman year in college, in Iowa, the first night it snowed, another student and I from Hawaii went out barefoot and ran and skidded in the snow on the street. That little child in us came out to play.

One October, when I was teaching in Philadelphia, in my seventh grade math class, one of the students yelled out, “It’s snowing!” The students all got out of their seats and ran to the window. “Yeah, it’s snowing,” they called out. In such a moment, what else can you do, but just enjoy it.

My first Christmas away from home, I was visiting with my friend and his family in Ohio. The open field just back of their home was covered with fresh snow. My friend Duane said, “Let’s go out in the snow. I want you to make an angel.” I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. I was from Maui. We grew up with sand, red dirt, and sugar cane fields. He showed me what to do. Then I laid on my back, moved my arms and made my first snow angel.

There is in all of our experiences, something new, something different, and something exciting. Riding a sea turtle, catching your first fish, riding a bike for the first time, dipping your toe in the Pacific Ocean if you’re from Kansas, or visiting Disneyland as a three year old. The first snow for one is just like that.

That evening it snowed in Minneapolis, the weather was reported, “Winter came two months early.” Fall just lingered and the leaves didn’t change like we had hope. Winter, on the other hand, came like a speeding train. This was another historic moment.

On October 19 and 20, Minnesota reported one of its earliest blizzards. The temperature dropped 50 degrees with a snowfall of fifteen inches. On October 10, 1977 2.4 inches of snow fell on Columbus Day. But that was not the earliest. On September 26, 1942, 1.7 inches fell on the Twin Cities. The St. Paul Dispatch reported even a prior snowfall: “The earliest trace was September 15, 1916.”

The most talked about snowfall was the Halloween Blizzard of 1991. A single snow storm lasted from October 31 to November 3. A record 28.4 inches fell on Minneapolis
and St. Paul.

Each day, we can get up bored, worried, and troubled. Or, we can greet the day with expectation, gratitude, and excitement, thus see the world in a new way. Life is filled with the riches of nature and experiences. The first snowfall brings to light the new, a joy, and another step in time. We remind ourselves, as we look closer at a snow flake, no two snow flakes are alike. Each is different. Such is true to each of us.

Might we begin each day knowing our own uniqueness. The first snow brings to mind this truth. Like little beads on a string it brings together a joy to behold.

Ten Helpful HInts on Remembering Names

Ten Helpful Hints On Remembering Names
Dr. Dennis Ginoza October 9, 2009

How many of us, after we have met someone for the first time, after a few seconds, have forgotten the name? This is a common problem. Remembering can be fleeting. On the other hand, remembering can be just another formed habit, in a good way.

Dale Carnie says, in selling a product, first sell yourself. He also emphasizes, a person’s name is, to that person, the most important thing.

How many times have we corrected someone who mispronounced our name. For some it can be irritating, even offensive. Or, if you can’t remember a person’s name, to avoid embarrassment, often one may avoid contact with that person. I have seen this happen.

Name remembering is an art, it requires a conscious effort, and it is has to be worked on.

I learned early on, when I was a junior in high school, remembering names can become second nature. As a student body treasurer I was given the responsibility to provide change for the students eating at the school cafeteria. By the year’s end I about knew the name of all the students.

Let me share some tools that I learned, hints, that might be helpful. Before I continue, let me cite a case in point. One August, when I was performing my first wedding at that church, as I was performing the ritual, the mother of the bride was sitting next to her sister from Iowa. This sister said to the mother of the bride, “I know your pastor. I went to school with him.”

At the reception after the wedding, she stood at the door and said to me, “Do you remember me?” I said, “Yes.” I said, “Nelda Palmer.” Then I said, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Luckily I remembered her name after over 30 years. I had by that time developed certain tools for remembering. Let me share them here.

1. Make remembering a priority. A priority means, that’s the first thing you do. You don’t move on to the next task until the first is done. Priority means, intention, a high purpose, and a task performed. Or simply said, “Do it!”

2. Repeat the name. When you are introduced, say the name out loud. If it’s Joel Van Arken, say, “Joel Van Arken, good to meet you.” Or if the name is, Caroline Schmidt, check the spelling. It could be Carolyn, and Schmidt may sound like Smith. Repetition is the tool for learning.

3. Look for an association. Names can often be linked with something common or something easy to remember. One day I met a homeless man named Steve McQueen. How can one forget such a name? Steve McQueen is the actor. Homelessness is a situation. And this Steve had long hair. Here are some associations, John the photographer, Joseph the marine, Guilford the blind man, Elmer the joker, Gelene a true friend, Mildred an exceptional teacher.

4. Put the name in a context. A context is an experience or a particular situation. One Sunday, a visitor Jan came to our church. She sat in the left section of the sanctuary, in about six rows back. She was placed in a context. Her attentiveness also caught my eye. The ball field, the doctor’s office, walking a dog, at the street corner named Maple Street, or within a story—these are all examples of a particular context.

At a church on my first Sunday, people came to greet me after the worship service. A woman said, to me, “I won’t tell you my name; you won’t remember anyway.” I said, “Tell me anyway.” First she said, “No.” I insisted. She said, “Frances Anderson.” I haven’t forgotten her name since.

5. Remember the name for what it is. Some names stand alone. Or they are like a stone among many stones, blending with everything and easy to forget. How many Jacks and Jims do you know? Take the names Marllyn, Marilyn, Marlene, and Marilynne. You just have to spell them out, hold them up in their own space. How about Bonnye, Bonnie, Connie, CJ, JD, OK, Rapha, Gary (a girl), Yolande and Yvonne, Jurgen, Carrillo (nick name), Don Pepe, Johniken (a girl). Remember the name on its own merit and put it on your memory shelf or file.

6. Play with the name. In every game, you remember the rules after you have played
with them, used them, and experienced them. Learning takes three forms, visual,
audio, and kinesthetic. Names can be put into a light moment. “Let’s see, aren’t
you Luke or are you John. Oh, there’s John, ah that’s Luke.” What’s your name
again?” Especially at weddings, church gatherings, parties where there are many
names to remember, people understand you can’t easily remember their names.
Names sink in when they are felt, looked at, walked with, and played with.
Where were you when John F. Kennedy was assassinated?

7. Make a list and review it. The more you go back to a name, the longer it will
stick with you. Remember Nelda? She was in my Sociology class. I had been in
her home. She was in a college play and her picture was in our Yearbook. I often
would return to my early college days and my yearbooks. It’s like dropping a
sinker on a line deeper and deeper into the depths of the water. The water is a
metaphor for our memory bank. Get it? I have old address books of people I have
met, lists in my daily calendar, and, in the church, a running list of people who are
first time visitors. Notes in the margins are little reminders also. February 17,
1994, Marvin and Elaine were in our home for a visit. That was the day the
Northridge Quake shook San Fernando Valley. We felt it in San Diego. Notations
are made on the blank sheets of the mind. Like inkblots, they can remain with us
for a long long time.

8. Write it down. Carry a 3 X 5 card in your back pocket or your purse. Elton
Trueblood, a Quaker writer, philosopher, and theologian, once reminded us at a
gathering in Richmond, Indiana, “If you have an idea, write it down, or it will lost
forever.” This is a simple task, but who carries a 3 X 5 card in your back pocket.
Or if you had one, who would remember to take a second to write it down. Just
remember, our minds play tricks with us. We can tell ourselves, “Self, don’t
forget this.” Then it’s gone. The mind is fluid, like a flowing river. Drop a hat in
a river and it will not stay in the same place. Such is the mind. Write it down.

9. Make it a habit. Habits are like a string of threads that you roll in a ball. They are a continuous behavior that follow a sequence. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John: they are the first three books of the Bible, and John, the fourth book . Remembering becomes second nature. A habit is sequential like learning and reciting your a b c’s.

10. A name is not just a name. It is a person. It is a living being, an individual of
importance, unique, different, and God given. Dibbs was a little boy who was
intelligent, observant, but shy. He never participated in class. He always sat at the
edge of his class. He never spoke until he was four years old. The story of Dibbs
appeared in a book. Spenser, Colton, Chelsea, James, Andrew—they are all little
children that need to be loved. How can I forget them. Learn the name and know
the person.

Finally, just remember, the mind is an incredible memory bank. It has a capacity to remember, categorize, analyze, create, and explore the unexplored. I remember a speaker who told us, “One pastor in Texas could remember every name of the members in his church. They had a thousand members.” The prophet Isaiah emphasizes, “He shall know you by name.”

If I can give you one more clue, it is this. We remember in pictures. When we tell stories, when we are in conversation, when we describe an experience, when give details of an object, an event, a place, or a person, we are using words to describe a picture in our minds. If I were to ask you, please describe the kid of car you drive, you will do so from a picture in your mind. The mind is an incredible gift, just remember to use it.

Visit On An Iowa Farm

Visit on An Iowa Farm
By Dr. Dennis Ginoza October 8, 2009

I heard it said: “My grandfather owned a farm, my father had a garden, I have a can opener.” This is telling of our times.

My father was a gardener. He raised the best string beans. In his two gardens, he planted carrots, broccoli, cabbage, sweet potatoes, eggplant, pumpkins, beets, and of course, string beans. All the preparation was done by hand with picks, shovels, rakes and hoes. He fertilized the soil with chicken manure from hens that provided eggs.. We three sons helped him haul the horse manure from the nearby stables. In retrospect, he was a superb gardener realizing the necessity to feed his family living in a village along the hills of West Maui. As my professor in seminary who was an agriculture missionary in Africa would remind us, raising food in many world regions is labor intensive.

In the early 60’s, traveling through the Mid-West, a common site was small family farms, many just a mile or three apart. As one traveled the rural roads, you could see a barn, a silo, and cattle feeding in fenced in areas or larger pasture lands. The cattle were for marketing or cows raised for milk and its related products. The farm equipment such as tractors had open seats, for the most part, and in time, one would see the progression to closed cabs.


A recollection I have is when my father-in-law wanted some eight track tapes with Hawaiian music so he could listen to it as he worked the fields. Lightly, with a chuckle, I thought, farming is not so hard anymore; it’s mixed with leisure and comfort. Iowa, where I spent time, was a changing farm scene. And that brings me to this present day.

A few days ago, I stepped into a new era in farming. For me, this was a giant step as we live in a day where milk comes in a carton or plastic container, beef and chicken soups sit on shelves in the supermarket, fresh meat are displayed in giant cooling systems, and fresh vegetables and fruits are neatly laid out in racks for easy reach and purchase. Do we have any idea how farming has changed. Most of us have no idea.

The back drop of this day also is an earlier experience I had in Costa Rica as a Peace Corps volunteer. Earlier in Puerto Rico, then in Central America, I learned about the slash and burn system. Farmers used their corn seeds from the harvested crop for re-planting, then the field was slashed and cleared, and burned. Then the corn seeds were planted in an opening in the soil made with a tool, lucky if it was enriched with fertilizer.

Interestingly, the Iowa seed corn was introduced to the farmers by the development association I was working with. The new seed corn was not accepted easily for various reasons. Funny as it may sound, the farmers and their families did not like the color of the new seed corn. It was too light, not the deep yellow they were used to for their tortillas. Change, as we know, doesn’t come easily. What made the hybrid corn less appealing: every planting required new seeds to be bought. This was a start to make farming capital intensive, not labor intensive. Farmers didn’t have financial resources to easily make the change. As my seminary professor reminded us, this is the gap between third world farming and farming in the developed world.

Now, my day on an Iowa farm. I was invited to visit my brother’s-in-law farm. First his son Jason drove me to the site where huge, towering bins are built for storage, a dryer system that is computerized to test moisture and proper drying, a drop pit where semis unload the harvested corn, then the grain would be taken in underground plumbed lines to begin the drying and storing process. While one semi was unloading, another semi would be driven to the field to receive the additional loads for the process just described. Instructive and interesting—was my thinking.

As I sat in the combine with my brother-in-law, Bob Schager, I witnessed the wonder of modern farming. This was far from the days when a horse pulled a plow with a farmer guiding it down the rows for cultivation and far from picking corn by hand. The intensity of the work did not line a sweaty brow in the heat of the sun. If there was a sweat on the brow, the cause would be a bad weather day or declining market prices.

For two hours, I sat in a cab watching the harvesting of a large field of corn with more fields waiting beyond what my sight could see. As the combine moved, cutting and processing twelve rows of corn at a time, a computer screen displayed the moisture, 20% or 27%, and as I learned, that computer also had a GPS mapping system (Global Positioning System with information fed from orbiting satellites), which, would create a mapping memory. This memory would make possible an auto pilot system.

As the combine worked, Bob explained to me that the combine had three sensors which helped determine the level of the terrain so the chopping followed the ups and downs of the soil. Had the GPS system been working, the combine would have been on automatic pilot. This would have given him time to check other systems in the computer data for both the efficiency of the operation and the data collecting system, and whatever else it is designed to do. In another ride, I could tell you more.

As the combine was working, another piece of equipment, the grain cart (augur wagon) was driven parallel to the combine at a calculated speed and a workable distance from the combine. When the combine was about full, not missing a moment, hardly, the corn seeds would be transferred into the grain truck. All this was in a synchronized movement. The grain cart had in it, a computer system recording the weight of every load, data necessary for federal reporting. I could see in mind’s eye, two jets in flight, one a tanker refueling the other in mid-air with no time lost or stoppage of whatever was the required task. This, I saw happening in the corn field.

As I watched the grain cart, after it got its full load, it headed toward the waiting semi which would haul its load to the dumping pit by the waiting bins as described earlier.

What I witnessed in two hours was a giant step in farming. As I could see, it is designed for efficiency and productivity. This was not observed, but clearly this type of farming requires a well trained, clearly defined role of players making possible a harvesting system covering a larger farm, unlike the small farms I saw in the early 60’s.

Farming, from this limited explanation, clearly has changed. This change fits our time as manufacturing, production, labor forces, capital investments, agri-business and its management have global implications. Technology, as I have seen, makes possible new ways of putting food on our table. It is different and far from the day when the beans and carrots came from the soil just a few feet away from our dinner table.

Yes, I have a can opener, but more importantly, a new and fascinating understanding of an Iowa farm. Such was my day from the seat of a combine. The farm is the same, but the landscape of planting and harvesting is not.

One final thought: When I sit at the table and have my dish filled with fresh vegetables, a piece of meat, a baked potato, or a bowl of hot soup, I will remain thankful for the soil from which the harvest has come. Our link to the soil, to the falling rain, to the rich elements and to the working hand has not changed.

I Had a Feeling

”I Had A Feeling”
by Dr. Dennis Ginoza October 6, 2009

I have returned to an old stomping grounds, the state of Iowa. It is here where I went to school at William Penn University. Those four years gave me new experiences, interesting encounters with people from the Mid-West but also from the world, and helped me establish some roots in friendship. Foremost, it gave me a college education and the grounding to another phase in life.

In the course of the years, the roots have broadened and deepened. Today they are living relationships, some old ties, some faded ties, and they are cherished memories. Whatever their form, they are a part of me, some times like an old well that nourished me, sometimes they are a living well with fresh and new flowing water.

It is in returning to this Iowa soil, I have become more aware of these broadened and deepened roots. As memories, they cannot be forgotten. As new encounters, they are enriching and surprising.

The present tie is now with family for my wife is a girl who grew up on a farm in north central Iowa. This is now part of the living and growing roots. She has two sisters in Iowa with growing families.

As my wife and I began this trip, first a stay in Colorado, then stops in Kansas and Missouri, I had a feeling. I wanted to return to William Penn University in Oskaloosa, where, as a young boy from Maui, Hawaii, for more reasons than one, doors were opened for me.

Those years were formative years, a place where I felt I belonged, and a people I came to love. From here there were new ties made and job experiences that not only sustained me financially, but enriched me. I developed ties with people not only in Iowa, but in Ohio, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Illinois, and Indiana. Some of these ties are today, living ties. The small college community became for me, a large family, better expressed, a collection of families.

They say, you cannot return to an old home. That is true, but only to a degree. Yes you can, but realize that things will not be the same. How can they be? The winds of change are constant and holds time for no one. If they do hold, they do so only as memories, tales, and legends. Yet, in a new form they have a reality.

In those early steps were intertwining threads of what I brought with me and new threads that created a kind of life tapestry. One of those was clearly my interest in and desire to learn especially in faith. Faith is commonly referred to as a pursuit of religion or understanding or meaning and God.

Other threads included interest in sports, especially baseball, in leadership and organization, travels to explore the world, simply to get to know people, different job experiences, and the pursuit of learning.

So I had a feeling. I called the president’s office of William Penn just to say hello. President Ann Fields’ door was open and we visited for 40 minutes: Penn Hall looked the same as I walked them over 40 years ago, but it was not the same campus. To answer more of the my questions, the president called in Marsha who had been at Penn for 29 years. Marsha gave us a tour of the new facilities—a new sports center called Physical Activities Center, impressive, modern, and envious; a new high tech building that takes communication and net working into the waiting decades. I was impressed. Old ties fade and get renewed.

I had a feeling. Now I wanted to visit the First Christian Church where I served as the youth director. No, it wasn’t the same. The external white bricks were gone. The wear of time called for a major renovation. But there were old voices never to be forgotten. The youth director and secretary were as cordial as I remembered people to be. I walked down the stairs to see some men playing dominoes. Surprise. A dad of a set of twins I worked with was there. Hello Walter. Then one man said, I married Carol, one of the twins. Another man said, “And I married Karen, the other twin.” De ja vu! Then I learned Linda and Jerry returned to Oskaloosa. That night I got an email from Linda: “Can we get together?” We were college friends. She now had her Ph.D.

It was at this church, one Sunday as Rev. Goins was preaching, I wondered and asked myself: “Will I ever preach like that someday?” It didn’t occur to me at that moment that one day, this church experience was helping me form my future as an ordained pastor. It has become clear to me that the hallways we walk one day will lead to our future.

Some time ago I read where Carl Jung had used the word, convergence. It refers to how some people happen to come together at a particular time and a particular place. I find that this is true with all of us. It is meant to work for a higher purpose: that is my belief. Or, it might for some, just be a missed opportunity.

The voices of the past can prompt us to do something at the very moment. That something is in our thought, it’s in the back of our mind, then one word pushes us to bring it to life. As I was on the phone with another Penn college friend, Diane, she asked me, “Are you writing more in your blog?” Oh! And here I am. So this article.

I had a feeling. The other day I went for a walk across the street. I wanted some fresh air and a little exercise. I jogged a bit. As I was walking, I wondered, “What will I encounter today?” Yes, I had a feeling. I walked into the store to just look around.

I came across a rack with movies for sale. It said, “Buy One, Get One Free.” I perused the collection. A baseball movie caught my eye. I pulled it off the rack and it said, “Amazing True Story.” I read on, it’s a story about Norway, Iowa, a small town high school team that has won 19 state championships. The coach, Jim Van Scoyoc led this team to this incredible height. Then he was fired. Will the new 24 year old assistant coach take this team to its 20th state championship? I caught my breath. Jim Van Scoyoc
was a classmate of mine at William Penn. Wow! And I remembered, our baseball coach wanted me to play on that college team, but I decided, I needed to put my efforts in my study. You don’t know how hard that was. I must have played softball with Van Scoyoc in PE; I’m just guessing. Now he is a legendary coach. I bought the movie for $9.99.

Some things in our lives leave us forever and we can never get them back. But some things will always be a part of us. They are our roots. Our roots became like threads that shape our lives. Feelings traverse time, passing generations, and old encounters, and in a strange way, they remain as part of us. In this short segment of time, it has brought me to reflect, to cherish, and to recollect not only where I’ve been, but who I am and where I am today.

I had a feeling. Feelings are a link to yesterday, but also with what one may encounter in the next moment.

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

Healing the Whole Person

“Healing the Whole Person”

by Jeremy Geffen, MD, FACP
Daily Word Devotional February, 2009

Anyone who has been through cancer knows that it doesn’t only affect the physical body, it touches every dimension of a human being. It impacts the mind, heart, and spirit, often as deeply – if not more deeply – than it impacts the physical body.

As an oncologist, I understand that people who are diagnosed with cancer – even at a very early stage – are often shaken to the core of their being. Many seek deeper meaning and understanding of their lives while also searching for comfort and healing.

People with cancer are often told by their doctors: “We’re going to give you chemotherapy, but don’t take any herbs or other supplements. They may interfere with your treatment”. And alternative doctors often say: “We think we can help you, but don’t take chemo. It will interfere with our treatment and destroy your immune system”. This is a medical Tower of Babel where everyone is speaking a different language. There is a grave failure to communicate, and patients and family members often suffer greatly as a result.

Today people are seeking an approach to medicine and health care – and especially cancer care – that is more holistic and also more sensitive to their needs and concerns as a whole person. This is part of the great wave of change in health care that is being called “integrative medicine.”

People of all ages and from all walks of life are searching to find ways of combining various modalities for healing. Most do not wish to abandon standard conventional medical treatments – including surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation – but want to go beyond them to a more holistic approach that includes safe and effective complementary therapies.

There’s also a growing industry of alternative cancer therapies. This is very understandable, but it can be risky for many patients – especially if used in lieu of proven conventional treatments. Nonetheless, who could blame someone for wanting to look outside the mainstream if their doctor says, “I’m sorry, but your cancer is incurable”?

In 1985, when I was in medical school, I personally experienced what the cancer journey is like for patients and their loved ones. My father was diagnosed with a very advanced gastric cancer. It was a shocking and heartbreaking trauma for him, for me, and for our whole family. Because this cancer was so aggressive, the doctors offered my father no hope.

Immediately, I embarked on a wide research for find a cancer center where he could get the best of conventional treatment and the best available complementary therapies. That center didn’t exist.

I also searched for an oncologist with excellent medical skills who was also a healer – someone who could look deeply into the mind, heart, and soul of my dad and help him heal at the deepest levels. I could not find that doctor.

After my father died, I felt compelled to become that kind of doctor – an oncologist who was knowledgeable, highly trained, and skilled but who was also open-minded and experienced in the world’s other great healing traditions. I vowed that I would also one day build the cancer center that I wished had been there for my dad.

I finished medical school and went on to residency training in internal medicine and fellowship training in hematology and oncology. During these six years, I asked hundreds of cancer patients and family members what they had learned about life and healing that could help me become a better doctor. I also traveled to India, Nepal, and Tibet to explore Eastern healing traditions.

One night I woke up in a “eureka” moment and recognized a profound pattern regarding the issues and concerns that patients and loved ones encountered on their journeys through cancer and other illnesses. I saw that all their questions and concerns fell into seven domains of inquiry and exploration.

I began to develop a holistic but scientifically grounded approach to cancer care that coherently addresses the whole person – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. This approach has come to be known as the Seven Levels of Healings.

In 1994 I opened the Geffen Cancer Center and Research Institute, in Vero Beach, Florida. Over the next ten years, thousands of patients and loved ones experienced a Seven Levels of Healing approach to care that combined topnotch conventional cancer treatments with a wide array of complementary therapies and helped them skillfully address and navigate all dimensions of the healing journal.

Using the Seven Levels of Healing as a map, people consistently moved from feeling confused and overwhelmed to having a sense of confidence about their lives and their medical care. I directed the cancer center until 2004, when I left clinical practice to bring this message to a broader audience through writing, speaking and consulting.

Level One: Education and Information provides basic knowledge and information about cancer and latest treatment options. This empowers patients to actively participate in and obtain the greatest possible benefit from their medical care.

Level Two: Connection with others explores the importance and benefits of finding support and connection with others on the journey through cancer.

Level Three: The body as garden explores the safe and effective use of complimentary therapies and invites patients and family members to regard the body as a sacred, wondrously complex garden, rather than a machine.
Level Four: Emotional healing enters the inner realm of the human heart. It explores the transformative power of releasing fear, pain, and anger – and embraces the healing power of self-love, forgiveness, and acceptance of all parts of one’s self.

Level Five: The Nature of Mind explores how our entire experience of life – including life with cancer – is profoundly influenced by our thoughts, beliefs, and the meanings we give to events. It also shows how we consciously escape the tyranny of the mind and move forward on our healing path.

Level Six: Life Assessment assists patients and family members to discover the deepest meaning and purpose of their lives and their most important goals. What do we want to accomplish, experience, and share with others?

Level Seven: The Nature of Spirit embraces the profoundly healing spiritual dimension of life that we all share and explores the nonphysical dimension of our being that is whole and complete, regardless of our circumstances.

The Seven Levels of Healing apply to all dimensions of life, not just cancer or other illnesses. We each have physical body that needs and deserves care and attention. And it’s a privilege to be able to lovingly care for our physical bodies – to eat well, exercise, receive good medical care when we need it, and experience the wonderful benefits of many different complementary or alternative therapies. But we must never forget that we are multidimensional beings.

My goal now is for people to realize that we are not just our bodies. Each one of us also has a mind, heart, and spirit that need and deserve love and care and attention – just as much as the body does. I am passionate about sharing what I have learned with others and helping them know they are not alone.

Dr. Jeremy Geffen, author of the Journey Through Cancer: Healing and Transforming the whole Person (Three Rivers, 2006), is a board certified medical oncologist and pioneer in the field of integrative medicine and oncology. For more information on his leading-edge programs, visit www.geffenvisions.com.


February 09, Unity Magazine

The Rapture

The Village News Article

The Rapture
In the resurrection of Jesus, the disciples saw that he
broke the bonds of the earth and was transformed into a
spiritual body. In Acts 1:9-11, he ascended into heaven
and Luke says he is to return in the same way. The apostle
Paul, who was totally changed on the road to Damascus,
now understood that flesh and blood cannot inherit the
kingdom of God. In Christ, true transformation occurs, mortals
put on immortality. In the rapture, all the saints are gathered, to
be raised to heaven, to life eternal. Paul's image holds the vision
of the true believers being raised, meeting Jesus in the clouds,
and lifted up to be with the Lord. Jesus' teaching is clear, when
this will happen, no one knows, not angels, not the Son, only
the Father in heaven. Many have set a date, Shakers 1792,
William Miller 1844, Edgar Whisenant, 1989, and there are others.
The lessons for all is, be alert and watch. Two men will be in the
field, one will be taken, the other left. Two women will be grinding
with a hand mill, one will be taken, and the other will be left. (Matt. 24:41)
Jesus reminds us, "My kingdom is not of this world." (Jn. 18:36).

Dr. Dennis Ginoza
Fallbrook United Methodist Church
March 13, 2009 Publication

Hope: A Life Line

FROM THE PASTOR
“Hope: A Life Line”

When Elizabeth Kulber Ross addressed her audience of 400 in Brawley, California, where doctors, nurses, pastors, educators were present, she left an unforgettable thought on hope.
She mentioned that when someone is ill and dying, there is one thing you don’t want to take away from them — it is hope.
In dismal times, when life seems to slip away, when jobs are being lost thousands at a time, when a grown child still cannot grasp life, when families cannot hold on to their homes, when financial security is diminished by 30% to 40% or more, when one’s health is on a downward turn, or when life’s vital light is at the last flicker, there is one thing God offers to us. It is hope.
There are times in history when life has been disrupted in sad, violent and difficult ways. Today is not different from some of the worst times of our past. In Elaine Pagel’s book, Origin of Satan, she describes the Jewish wars beginning in 66 A.D. The Roman soldiers responded with power and cruelty. Jerusalem was under siege, the Roman blockade caused great havoc and mothers and children scrambled for food. Even the old were torturing their own to acquire food.
The Jewish armies couldn’t hold on any longer and Tacitus and his soldiers swarmed the Temple, entered the Holy of Holies and looted the treasury. And the Temple was set on fire. Pagel’s observes that it was during this time that the early writing of the During this early period, those who followed Jesus were being persecuted. Under Nero, these persecutions occurred from A.D. 64 to 75. The gospel of Mark was written to bring hope to people in their most difficult times.
Mark introduces good news. John the Baptist says that one who is coming is mightier and more powerful than he. Then Jesus is baptized in the river Jordan. What the people see in those dark Roman days, is a light of hope. Life can be better and it will be. Jesus heals the man with an unclean spirit. He cleanses a leper. He heals the paralytic. He heals the man with a withered hand. You, the reader, might just make list of the miracles deeds Jesus performed, and it will lighten your heart.
Hope has in it great power. I have been in my life, an optimist. I always believed that life will offer us something better. If we believe, if we work at it, the world around us will improve. I hold this thought to be true in our present time.
There is a man who grew up without the faith. His family didn’t go to church. His parents were disillusioned by the church. He was a non-believer and a non-church goer. After he lost his job, his life was totally disrupted. One day, how this happened he’s not sure. He picked up the Bible and started to read about the life of Jesus. Hmm! He read about the miracles of Jesus and how lives were being affected. He studied more.
Sometime later, he and his wife went to a Greek island on a vacation. He was curious why there were so many tour buses. People were gravitating to a cave. His curiosity was aroused. It finally came to him, this was the island of Patmos and the cave was where John wrote Revelation. His heart turned and his life changed.
He is today a believer, a church goer and his life is filled with hope.
—Dennis Ginoza

“Gratitude: The Greatest of Virtues”

There are two ways at looking at everything. A piece of apple pie was delicious or it was not. The cup is half empty or half full. The student passed the bar or he failed. The car is a good buy or it’s a lemon.

There were two prisoners in the same jail cell. One looked out the window and saw only mud. The other looked out the same and saw the stars.

A grandmother faithfully sent her gifts to her grandchild, but never received a thank you. Finally she decided there was only ingratitude so she stopped sending her gifts. Ingratitude cuts off goodwill, saps a life source, and brings benevolence down to zero. Leroy Satchel Paige says, “Don’t pray when it rains if you don’t pray when the sun shines.”

Jesus healed ten lepers. Only one returned an gave thanks. “Where are the other nine?” he asked.

Gratitude, on the other hand, is life giving. Henry Ward Beecher says, “Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.’ Cicero says, “Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.”

There is power in gratitude. The mere phrase Thank You carries in its nature, a feeling that is heart warming, an appreciation, and an acknowledgment with wings. Gratitude recognizes the giver with honor, respect, and reverence. The psalmist knew this well, “Enter his gates with thanksgiving. Give thanks to him, bless his name.” (Psalm 100:4).

So this Thanksgiving, as difficult as our times may be, let us be thankful. One writer, name unknown, suggests: Be thankful for the mess after the party, it means you have friends. The taxes we pay means we are employed. Piles of dirty laundry and ironing means we have a job. When the morning light breaks the dark, it means you can see; many are blind. The faith you have is a treasure to behold, many in the world believe not.

So I say, let us give thanks to God. There are more blessings than our mathematics can account for.


Dennis Ginoza
Pastor, Fallbrook United Methodist Church