FAREWELL TO NEW ZEALAND

Tomorrow Vivian and I will be leaving New Zealand for the final time; at least, it will be our last as far as we know. We will leave behind some good memories and we will miss some very good friends that we have made here. New Zealand is a beautiful country with many very kind people. It has interesting traditions and history and many admirable qualities. We have also enjoyed worshiping with the believers in our little church in the small town of Maraetai Beach. We will miss all of these.

I will also say that apart from these things, I leave behind one of the most difficult of working situations in which I have ever ministered. This I will not miss a great deal. We first came to New Zealand about two and a half years ago hoping to get the churches here interested in assisting the churches of the Pacific islands in pastoral and leadership training.  However, the specific churches here in New Zealand with whom I was originally to partner largely excluded me from working with them because I had a desire to work with all Bible believing churches. They did not. They only wanted to work with those who were of their own specific denominational similarities and some even held me in suspect because I used more than one particular translation of the Bible.

Those of you who know me or have read any of my books know that I have a deep love and a great burden for the church of Jesus Christ (Please read especially my book, Portraits of the Church). I have spent my adult life trying to instill in churches the passion to conform to the image of Christ, and it genuinely grieves me to see such self pride expressed in the church. It is, after all, predominantly pride that causes one church or denomination to believe that it alone has complete understanding and that all others are in some way living in opposition to the teachings of Christ.
My own view has always been that we are all on the road to a better understanding, that none of us have reached perfect knowledge of all that Christ taught us, and that the only way that we will progress is by studying the Scriptures together.

We must hold the Holy Scriptures alone as the ultimate authority – not some denominational doctrine or mission policy. I am a firm believer in a strong Biblical doctrine, but unfortunately, church denomination doctrine does not always reflect unmodified Bible doctrine. Denominational doctrine or practices can even sometimes actually hinder us from growing in truth, rather than establishing us in truth. It is an unfortunate fact that church doctrine is sometimes put in place for the protection of the church denomination rather than for the growth and the fellowship of the saints.

Of the sixteen or seventeen countries in which I have worked with churches, I must say that this present one has been the most difficult. Denominationalism among Bible-believing churches is stronger here than I have seen in any other country. Some workers with more experience may dispute that statement, and I am willing to stand corrected, but I can only speak from my own personal experience. I will continue to pray for the church here and also know that, like all of us, the only thing that will help is the grace of God.

Of course, this initial loss of connection with anyone to work with here when we first arrived caused Vivian and me to try somehow to slowly get to know people in the far off islands of the Pacific. This was not an easy task and I must say that even now, we have just made a beginning. But despite the circumstances that we found when we arrived here, we were not left alone in this effort. Some other brothers here did help us and the Holy Spirit opened up channels of communication for us. For example, a small Bible College name Fowey Lodge welcomed us into their work and we have greatly appreciated their friendship and ministry.  In this and in various other ways, we have gotten to know many people in islands hundreds of miles from here.

Through all of these experiences, we have come to learn that there is a great need for pastoral and leadership training in the Pacific islands, although the hunger for this training is not nearly as acute as that which we experienced in Latin America. Again, this is a hunger that only the Holy Spirit can instill, and there are those in the islands that share this vision. Fiji Bible College of Lautoka, Fiji is one of those. It is their stated ministry goal to get Bible preaching back into the pulpits of the Pacific Islands. This single Bible College has been more a source of encouragement for me personally than the discouragement that has come from other sources.
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But now, Vivian and I are mostly looking forward to returning to our little farm in Wisconsin. We do not yet know what we will do, but I plan on getting a few cattle of some kind, and doing a little logging. Hopefully, I can make some kind of living this way. And of course, we look forward in the next four months to visiting those of you, our faithful home churches, who have been our Ropeholders these last 20+ years, both through rewarding times and through difficult times.

I will also continue to write. In fact, I am currently writing a book on a subject that Jesus meant to be a source of uniting churches under Him, but which has instead become a source of division. This is the teaching of the Lord’s Supper, on which distinct churches hold extremely strong beliefs and have closed their ears to hear what others are saying.

One thing that has been interesting to me in this study is that of the four gospel writers, only Matthew, Mark and Luke tell of the actual institution of the Holy Communion, but each of these only dedicates about a half a chapter of their book to it. John, on the other hand, does not talk about the actual moment when Jesus and the disciples partook of the bread and the wine, but explains far more than any of the other writers the teachings of Jesus that took place that evening in the upper room. In John’s gospel, chapters 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17 are all dedicated to the teachings of Jesus in the room that night. There is much in those chapters that we have missed in regards to the attitude surrounding the Lord’s Supper. Hopefully I can have that book out some time next year (2013).

So, as Vivian and I and our boys have had to say farewell to other countries where we have lived and have come to love, we also now must say farewell to New Zealand, another country and people whom we have come to love. But the connections remain, and we maintain the expectation that we will see our New Zealand and Island brothers and sisters in the Lord again at a future time.

Vivian and I are traveling home through Fiji, where I have some meetings, so we will be home in a few days. I will post again when we get settled in Wisconsin.

THE PIGEON POST

An interesting piece of New Zealand history that I learned recently is that this was the first country in the world to have pigeon post. If you are like me, then perhaps your first question is, “What is a pigeon post?” Well, if I could look at you in the eye right now, I would give you the same look that my friend gave to me when I asked him that same question. It was a look of, “You poor uninformed lad. Just listen to me while I educate you.”

Pigeon Post was a regular mail route that delivered mail using homing pigeons. These birds have an almost uncanny ability to be able to find their way to their home nest from almost anywhere, even from more than 1,000 miles away (which has happened in special competition racing). And they are quite quick about it. A moderate flight is regarded as something around 500 miles, and they say that the birds do it at an average of about 50 miles per hour. The routes for the pigeon mail carriers were normally not as far as 500 miles, but it seems to have been quite a reliable way to send messages.

We have probably all heard of carrier pigeons used during both World Wars to send messages over enemy lines. These were legitimate information carriers, and some of these pigeons were even later awarded medals (I hope these medals were not too heavy or it would have been difficult for the birds to fly). Even in the invasion of Normandy in the Second World War, pigeons were used to carry vital information, since it was feared that the Axis forces would intercept radio transmissions. However, the postal system here in New Zealand used the pigeons long before this and even before the First World War. But it actually was another tragedy other than war that prompted the first use of the birds.

Back in the year 1894 there was a shipwreck of the Union Steamship Company on a smaller island off of the North Island of New Zealand. Of the 235 people on board the ship, 121 of those perished in the tragedy. The few families living on that island at the time worked heroically to come to the aid of those survivors, but they had no way of communicating with the mainland to tell them of the disaster. Even before this time, the islanders had felt isolated, but this experience only served to emphasize the fact that they were really cut off from the rest of the world. In those days, there were no telephones to that island or any other form of communication with the mainland.

Shortly after that time, someone came up with an innovative solution – the pigeon post. In this system, homing pigeons, which had their nests in Auckland, were brought by steamship in the weekly visit to the island. Then during the week, the pigeons were released one by one to return to Auckland, each with a message attached to it. Each pigeon could carry up to five messages written on lightweight paper. These letters were appropriately called “flimsys.”

Since these flimsys were the only way of communicating with the main town, many of the messages sent were simply shopping lists to be sent on the next steamer or for timber or hardware. But it was also the island people’s way of receiving news. It was often how they found out about election results or major news events in the world. Once, when young Charlie Osborne had a serious medical condition, a message was sent for a doctor to come from Auckland, a visit that saved the boy’s life.

The pigeon post office that my friend was telling me about was in the town of Brookby and is near where his farm is located (The town name is pronounced brook-bee and named so because it is by the brook). Somehow this post office once fit into the pigeon postal system, but my educator was unsure just how it worked. Since Brookby is east of the main city of Auckland, he speculates that this was a stopping off station for the pigeons after their flight across the large body of water called the Firth of Thames. From Brookby (according to his speculation), the flimsys were transferred to other pigeons to bring them the rest of the way to Auckland, much in the same way that the pony express worked, but using pigeons instead of quarter horses.

The New Zealand Pigeon Post was terminated in 1908 when a telephone wire was laid from the Coromandel Peninsula of the mainland, through the seabed and to the island. But even after this, several places in the world adopted the pigeon postal system when conditions merited it. In fact, it was only in 2002 that the Pigeon Message Service of the Police in the state of Orissa in India retired, due to the expanded use of the internet.

But sometimes even the internet cannot compete with the pigeons. In South Africa in 2009, 4GB of information was sent overland by two methods, one by the use of the country’s largest internet provider, and the other by use of a memory stick connected to the back of a carrier pigeon. The distance over which the information was sent was 50 miles, and information in each case was the same. The pigeon made the journey in one hour and eight minutes, and by the time the people got the memory stick off of the pigeon and downloaded onto the receiving computer, the total time elapsed was two hours, six minutes, and 57 seconds since the time the bird took off from the sending office. And the information sent over the internet? In the same length of time, it had only downloaded about 4% of the total information.

So there you are. Some more information that is unrelated to what we are doing here in the Pacific, but interesting nevertheless. If you have pigeons hanging around your farm at home, you had better take a good look at them. They might have a flimsy for you.

SHOWERS OF BLESSING

Sometimes the blessings of God come with such force that they almost hurt, but in the end, we feel refreshed. This is me standing under a waterfall in Vanuatu.
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"And I will make them and the places around My hill a blessing. And I will cause showers to come down in their season; they will be showers of blessing.
"Also the tree of the field will yield its fruit, and the earth will yield its increase, and they will be secure on their land. Then they will know that I am the LORD, when I have broken the bars of their yoke and have delivered them from the hand of those who enslaved them."
(Ezekiel 34:26-27 NAS)
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There shall be showers of blessing:
This is the promise of love;
There shall be seasons refreshing,
Sent from the Savior above.

Showers of blessing,
Showers of blessing we need:
Mercy drops round us are falling,
But for the showers we plead.

    (Daniel W. Whittle)

THE PUM-FUI-FUI

Some friends of ours here in New Zealand took us to a farm fair, the A&P fair (Agriculture and Pastoral). I had a little conversation with a man who had an old hit and miss engine that was made in Australia in the early 20^th century. It was very similar to the one that I have at home, except his was completely restored. And of course, the one we have is not made in Australia, but in Wisconsin.

Nevertheless, I was able to ask him many questions about the engines. They were designed to run on kerosene, since in those days, that was the cheaper fuel. He said that they would use petrol to start it, since that made it easier starting, then ran in on kerosene. These days, since petrol is cheaper, that is what he uses. I told him I couldn’t get petrol at home and wondered if gasoline would work.

Sometime this year, I hope to work on ours, which is now sitting in our barn back home. I have had the piston soaking in solvent for about four years, trying to get the piston rings unstuck. Since being home four years ago, I have not been back long enough to be able to work on it. That is soon going to change.

The following essay is something I wrote some years ago about our old hit and miss engine

THE PUM-FUI-FUI

We called the old gasoline powered machine a PUM fui-fui because that is the sound that it made when it ran.  The old engine had a single piston about eight inches in diameter and two huge flywheels about four feet across, one on either side of the engine, connected by a gigantic crankshaft.  The piston did not go up and down as one would normally expect in a gasoline motor, but it ran horizontally – back and forth.  On the top of the engine, there was a squared reservoir that looked as if it must be some kind of smoke stack, but really, it was for the water that cooled the piston and cylinder. The engine had one wire that led to one ancient looking spark plug, and a pulley on the side from which a belt of about six inches wide could power an equally ancient threshing machine or other implement.

I do not know where Dad got this wonderful engine.  I seem to remember when we got it, but I was just a small boy.  Dad mounted a buzz saw to it and we used it for sawing firewood.  The massive iron motor was bolted to squared timbers, which sat on iron wheels.  The whole machine was perhaps twelve feet long.  Every fall, it was the annual project to get the PUM fui-fui started and saw the firewood for the winter.

It was far from a given fact that we would get it started.  Everything had to be just right and there seemed to be as much art and feel to it as pure mechanical theory.  The valve that fed the gasoline into the carburetor had to be opened just enough to feed an adequate amount of gas, but not too much or the engine would flood out.  I called it a carburetor, but the PUM fui-fui did not really have an actual carburetor.  It was more like an ancestor or a precursor to the carburetors of today’s engines. It was a proto-carburetor.  The old PUM fui-fui instead had a set of iron pipes that took the place of the carburetor.  In a way that I never completely understood, the configuration of the pipes mixed air in with the gasoline and fed the gas and air mixture into the cylinder so that the antiquated spark plug hopefully would ignite the mixture to drive the engine.

I remember that the electrical system seemed to cause trouble quite often.  It seemed not to be always faithful in sending a hot spark to the spark plug.  The timing of the spark was also a little touchy.  This was controlled by moving a lever and listening to how the engine sounded.  Of course, this adjustment could only be done once the engine was running.  You first would have to take your best guess at where the lever should be placed, and hope that it was near enough to the right spot to fire things up.

When the PUM fui-fui finally did get fired up it was a circus of movement.  The two huge flywheels would rotate vigorously as if they hoped that they could go somewhere.  The bottom end of the piston (which as I said was really lying horizontally), was visible so that you could see it turning the crankshaft and the two large iron flywheels.

The PUM fui-fui had a little rotating and gyrating mechanism toward the front of the engine, (why I call it the front, I do not know – there really was no front or back).  This little device was called the governor, because it governed the maximum speed of the engine.  The twirling top of the governor had two small iron spheres that hung down from it, and as the engine ran faster and faster, these two little orbs would be thrown out further from the center by centrifugal force.  When thrown out to a preset distance from the center, the iron balls would hold the exhaust port open.  When this exhaust port stayed open, the gas-air mixture would not explode inside the cylinder. If it did, the force of the explosion was lost since much of the explosion was vented through the opening.  This had the effect of slowing the engine down.  It was at these missed strokes when the engine gave the “fui” sound.  There must have been one “firing” stroke to every two that did not.  Our old engine fired on the “PUM” and missed on the “fui, fui.”

The belt that ran off from the side of our PUM fui-fui powered our buzz saw.  As I mentioned, the old engine had one purpose on our farm – to saw our firewood for the year.  The work involved with getting the engine started seemed like victory enough, but that labor was only the preparation for the real work ahead.  The evidence of the real work ahead lay obvious there in our yard.  It had as its appearance a small mountain of dried logs and sticks, ranging in size from almost a foot in diameter for furnace wood, to limbs as big around as walking cane, for kitchen wood.

Dad was the sawyer.  We boys would untangle the logs and sticks that laid in the yard like giant pick-up sticks and placed them, one by one, on the carriage that held them to be sawed – one end of the log on the carriage and the other end held by one of us boys.  Dad fed the wood into the saw and one of us boys, who was not holding the other end of the log, would grasp the sawed-off piece and throw it into the firewood pile.

We each had our task as we sawed the firewood.  Hours would pass. “PUM, fui-fui, PUM, fui-fui.”  The saw also gave off its regular and methodically ringing sound as it sawed through the firewood.  The log pile ever so slowly became smaller and smaller, and the sawed firewood pile slowly grew larger and larger.  With each cut, the saw would send out its vibrating ring.  Sawdust blew around in the air and arms and backs got weary.  A tedious task. “PUM, fui-fui, PUM, fui-fui, ring, ring.”  We picked up the logs and put them on the carriage, holding the other end and slowly advancing as the log became shorter and shorter with each cut.  We wrapped our hands around the stick being sawed and watched as the teeth of the saw were fed into the wood.  When the log was severed, we rotated our bodies like a baseball player batting a ball and threw the stick into the pile. “PUM, fui-fui, PUM, fui-fu, ring, ring.”

I remembered seeing a movie as a boy (maybe it was Ben Hur) where they had a Roman galleon with many rows of slaves sitting at the oars.  They faced a man who was beating a drum meant to set the pace of the rowers.  “Bum – bum – bum.”  The rowers did not have to think, in fact, it was preferable to the Romans that they did not.  All that the slaves had to do was row in cadence to the drum.  “Bum – bum – bum.”

“PUM, fui-fui, PUM, fui-fui - PUM, fui-fui, PUM, fui-fui.”  Our taskmaster set the pace.  We methodically went through the motions of our task.  Hold the log, step forward, hold the log, step forward.  Grasp the stick, rotate and throw, grasp the stick, rotate and throw. “PUM, fui-fui, PUM, fui-fui.”

But sometimes something happened.  Sometimes the PUM fui-fui decided to give a boy a break.  It would stop its rhythmic cadence.  I do not remember what would occur exactly, but I think the coil would stop working properly or something like that.  I did not dare voice my happiness for these minor tragedies, but I felt like a slave of the Romans who was for a little while set free from his bonds.  When the old engine stopped, I lifted my head and was gone.  Dad and the older boys would start looking at some wires or something and try to make some adjustment here and there. But I was free.  The air was clean and the taskmaster was silent.  All that stood between me and complete freedom was the field that was between me and the woods.  As one recently unshackled and as quickly as I could, I ran toward the trees.

Soon enough they would get the PUM fui-fui started again.  I would hear it from the woods.  As much as I loved my freedom, I was not irresponsible.  When I heard the drummer, I returned to take my place at the oar.  In the end, I knew as well as anyone that the wood had to be sawed.

I never ever really could understand why the PUM fui-fui would sometimes quit working.  The reasons varied.  Dad and my older brothers would talk about carburetion and loss of compression.  I think it was usually another reason.  A boy can only stand the toil so long.  The taskmaster did what no taskmaster should do – he looked into the eyes of the slave.  He saw in the little windows of this young soul the need for a few moments of freedom.  The PUM fui-fui decided to give the boy some well-deserved time to breathe the freedom that boys live for.  In that cold iron of the old gasoline engine perhaps there was also a small beating heart – an understanding of a boy’s need to be free.

PSALM 137 AND THE AUTHORITY OF SCRIPTURE

     In my experience of working with many denominations of churches, I have encountered various views on the inspiration of Scripture. I personally have very few prerequisites for setting up pastor training classes in churches, but one that I do have is that the church with whom I am working shares my view of the absolute inspiration and inerrancy of the Scriptures.
     I will not go into all of my reasons for taking this view since it is a very long subject, but I will say that it did not come to me without thought and investigation. Some people say that they believe that the Scripture contains the word of God, but they will decline to say that it is entirely inspired. This small difference actually is of considerable consequence, since it puts the individual in the place of authority over the Scripture. The Scriptures themselves are instead relegated to a place of being subject to our own ideas and judgment of what is true. It is for this reason that I feel that it is important to work only with those who hold to a true inspired view of Scripture. If they did not, so much time would be spent merely on sitting in judgment of which parts of the Bible are inspired and which are not.
     It may be good also to have discussions and classes on the inspiration of Scripture, but that is for a different forum. The classes with which we have worked for many years are for training pastors and church leaders. We feel that at this stage, we want to be past the point of discussing the issue of the inspiration of Scripture so that we can move on to deeper things. I do not intend this short essay to be a complete dissertation on the inspiration of Scripture, but only mean to point out a single aspect of it. In all, it is a very broad subject.

     I will concede that there are places in the Bible that are extremely difficult and even impossible to understand, and also places that seem contrary to what we would naturally say is correct. Many of these have been pointed out to me in the course of the last several years, and here in the Pacific regions, one of the passages of Scripture that has been shown to me a few times as a reason to believe that there are some portions of the Bible that cannot be inspired by God is that of Psalm 137.
     This actually is a Psalm that I have related to in the past, especially the first part. It is written from the perspective of the Israelites during the time of their exile and Babylonian captivity when they were away from their homeland. I did not relate to it because I was ever in captivity, but as I have lived in other lands, I have sometimes lamented my separation from our home and little farm in Wisconsin. The Psalm begins:

     By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion.
     Upon the willows in the midst of it we hung our harps.
     For there our captors demanded of us songs, and our tormentors mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”
     How can we sing the LORD’s song in a foreign land? (Psalm 137:1-4 NAS)

     In the experience of these exiles, they felt extremely homesick when they remembered their homeland. Their captors wanted them to sing some of their joyful Israeli songs to them, but because of the sadness that the Jews felt, they could not sing. This is not the part of the Psalm that is controversial. Rather, it is what these Jewish captives said at the end of the Psalm:

     Remember, O LORD, against the sons of Edom the day of Jerusalem, who said, “Raze it, raze it, to its very foundation.”
     O daughter of Babylon, you devastated one, how blessed will be the one who repays you with the recompense with which you have repaid us.
     How blessed will be the one who seizes and dashes your little ones against the rock.
     (Ps 137:7-9 NAS)

     This last verse is especially shocking and is particularly difficult for us to understand or accept. In fact, this is the verse that has been quoted to me as an example of the impossibility that this could be the inspired word of God. “Surely this could not be something that God would say,” I have been told.
     In point of fact, what they say is correct, but their conclusion is faulty. If we read this Psalm carefully, we see that these are not the words of God. Some people, when they read the word “blessed,” assume that this must be something from God. After all, Jesus used the word blessed a lot. He used it when He spoke the beatitudes, didn’t He? This last verse is worded much like a beatitude of the dark side.
     But these are words spoken by exiles in captivity and in deep distress. Just because they spoke them, it does not mean that God condones this attitude of vengeance. As a matter of fact, the Scripture instructs us not to take our own revenge. This is not to say that those who have done evil can expect to get away with it, for in the final days of this age all will be put right. But this is in God’s hands, not ours. (Romans 12:9).

     One thing that I appreciate about the historical record of the Bible is that it does not try to make the characters seem more righteous than they actually were. Even in the case of King David, who is called “a man after God’s own heart,” the record is very honest in dealing with his failures and his sins. We do not usually see this in other religions. Normally, the faults and weaknesses of heroes of other faiths are ignored, and the ancestors of the faith are made to appear to be some sort of super righteous people. The Bible is more honest than this. It shows the true thoughts and deeds of the people of God, whether these things are righteous or not.
     I appreciate this because I see that these people had the same struggles that I have. I have never felt like striking anyone’s head against a rock, but I must admit to some dark thoughts of revenge for some injustice done to me. When we read about the people of God in the Bible, we know that they also struggled with dark thoughts. It helps us to see that our problems are common to man, and that we all are in need of God’s grace.
     There are several reasons that some individuals and churches do not accept the inerrant nature of the complete inspiration of the Scripture, but in my experience, one of the most common reasons is that people simply do not read the words carefully. In the case of Psalm 137, some assume that it is saying that this is a command or desire of God. It is not.

VANUATU

The cyclone named Jasmine came into the southern islands of Vanuatu and left again, leaving some damage and flooding, but I believe left no one dead. As I wrote in the previous post, Vivian’s and my flight was canceled and rescheduled for three days after the original reservation, causing us to arrive in Vanuatu on Saturday night instead of the previous Wednesday night.

In some ways, this was a problem for us because we had scheduled the teacher training seminar for the Thursday and Friday. Instead, on those days the people stayed home as they tried to keep the water out of their houses, and Vivian and I were grounded in New Zealand. The problem was compounded because the schools in Vanuatu were to open on the Monday following the weekend, and many of the people who were to be at our training the week before were also engaged at the local schools, making a mere rescheduling or our seminar impossible.

There are many things that I could say on this subject of the delay and what God had in mind in the timing of the cyclone. I do not suggest that our small seminar was the most important event that would be affected by the cyclone, but it was quite important to me, since it has taken me some time to get to know people in that far away island. Also, our time in the work is now nearing completion.

In the end, we could not hold a full two-day training as we normally do, and those men who had committed to come on the Thursday and Friday before, could not attend any kind of a workshop on Monday and Tuesday. Alternatively, I had an extended meeting with the two key pastors who have expressed the greatest interest in beginning these classes. This was a very helpful time for both them and for me, as I continue to learn about the needs of the churches in the Pacific region. For their part, as they learned about the particulars of the training program, they saw a much wider application than they previously realized.
Our time in Vanuatu was one of those trips upon which I had somewhat ambitious plans but which did not turn out as I had hoped. Nevertheless, in the end I could see that God no doubt had other thoughts. Despite what I think are good plans, I also know that God’s timing is also crucial. It takes a movement of the Holy Spirit to bring in the fullness of time. I am quite sure that we have laid the ground for more extended training there.

While in Port Vila, I was invited to preach at the first Sunday morning service in a new church start-up that was in an area of the city called "Blaksan." I am not sure of the spelling of that name, since in the Pidgin English of Vanuatu, the words are often a phonetic spelling of English words. Blaksan may mean black sand; I am not sure. There is another area of town called Fres Wata, named that because of the fresh water found there.

By the way, if someone asks you "how are you?" you may respond, "I orate, tankyu" (I'm alright, thank you).

Sometime I should write a little explanation of the Pidgin English spoken throughout Vanuatu. It may seem a little comical to a native English speaker at times, but the Pidgin English of Vanuatu, which they call Bislama, has something other than a humorous origin. It arose from returning slaves from Australia, where they learned to speak the Aussie English just enough to be able to communicate. Also, the Bislama of Vanuatu has since served a very useful purpose in that it has given that country of 110 languages a unifying language. And anyway, shouldn't the word phonetic be spelled fonetic?

I was very honored to bring some words of Scripture to these people of Blaksan. Most are people who are from other areas and islands of Vanuatu (there are 83 islands), who have moved there for work possibilities. Many speak three languages and even four: The tongue of their own people, Bislama, and English or French. After church, one of the ladies there was trying to teach Vivian how to speak French.

It is a poorer area of town and the church is needed in that area to give the opportunity for the people to meet and worship together. Besides that, the people of Vanuatu, like all of the Pacific island people, are very family orientated. These people of Blaksan find themselves cut off from their families back home and have a need of a group of people who can fill the role of their own families. There is no better substitute for this than the family of God.

CYCLONE JASMINE AND THE CORIOLIS EFFECT

As I wrote a couple of days ago, Vivian and I were scheduled to go to Vanuatu where I was to have a training seminar with a group of pastors. Unfortunately, it turned out that we were not the only ones scheduled to go to Vanuatu on that day. A cyclone named Jasmine also had set her sights on the islands. A man whom I respect once told me to never pick a fight with an angry woman, so in the end, Jasmine won out. She made her schedule but I did not.

Actually, what happened is that Air Vanuatu canceled the flight and rescheduled us to fly up there on Saturday. So, if there are no further changes, we will be leaving at that time. I am not sure how the training will work out once we get there, since I have not been able to contact anyone in Vanuatu. Nevertheless, I guess these are things that are, like the cyclones themselves, in the hands of God.

As I have been looking at the satellite photos of the cyclones (there are actually two right now in the southern Pacific), and with these three days of unscheduled hours that have suddenly come to me, it has caused my mind to wander once again to think about something that I have written about before: The Coriolis Effect. What is the Coriolis Effect? It is that combination of certain laws of physics and motion that causes the cyclones that form south of the equator to turn with a clockwise rotation and the hurricanes that form north of the equator to turn counterclockwise (or as they say here, and anti-clockwise rotation).

What are these laws of physics? I once tried to learn the mechanics of how this all takes place, but my trouble is that if something cannot be explained to me using stick-figure people diagrams, I usually cannot understand it.

But I like the Coriolis Effect. I especially like that it involves the word effect, because the effects are very interesting. It is simply intriguing to me that the hurricanes and cyclones rotate in this fashion, as well as high-pressure and low-pressure weather systems. People who know about physics more than me (my brother Daniel and his boys) tell me that the Coriolis Effect causes large weather systems to rotate in this way, but the effect is not pronounced enough to cause movements on a smaller scale, such as water in a sink or a flushing toilet.

But I, in my own way, have also studied this effect. When we lived in Venezuela (which is north of the equator) and when I traveled to countries such as Peru (which is south of the equator), I regularly made a mental note of which way the water went down when I flushed the toilets. In Venezuela – counterclockwise. In Peru – clockwise. I told my nephew that if it was not because of the Coriolis Effect, then they must make the toilets different in the southern hemisphere.

I have also flushed toilets here in New Zealand. I must say that the results are not what I would expect. The water in the toilets that I have flushed here seem to have very little discernable rotation at all. I don’t know why this is but I think it is what physicists call a “geographical anomaly.” If physicists do not have that term, then they should.

Speaking of water rotation, I think that I once mentioned a little museum that is located on the equator in the country that is even named after the equator – Ecuador. With GPS measurements, they have determined the exact location of the equator, and have a line running down the middle of the grounds of the outdoor museum to show the visitors where the northern hemisphere meets the southern.

At the museum they have various demonstrations of physical phenomena that they say is only possible right on the equator, and little experiments that you can do. For instance, on the equator it is possible to balance an egg on its end on the top of a nail that is partially driven into a board. It did it. Even right on the equator it is a little difficult, but it can be done. I must confess that I have not tried it in any other part of the world, but I assume it must be impossible since that is what they told me at the museum. They even gave me an official-looking and signed certificate that shows that I successfully balanced and egg on a nail, and someplace I have a photograph of the egg on top of the nail. I have always meant to have the certificate framed (with the photo), but so far have not done it.

Another experiment that they have involves water rotation running down a drain. They used a basin for this experiment and not a toilet, so perhaps this does skew the results somewhat, but the demonstration was impressive nevertheless. The lady at the museum had a movable basin which she placed about two meters north of the line that showed where the equator was. She then poured in a bucket of water, and when the water stopped sloshing around, placed a single leaf on the top of the water right in the middle. Then, with her hand, she pulled out the plug to let the water go down, which it did, rotating in a counterclockwise direction – just what we all expected would happen.

She then took the basin to a spot an equal distance south of the line. Again the water and again the leaf. However, this time when she pulled out the stopper, the water rotated in a clockwise direction. Some audible “Ooo’s” emanated from several of the visitors.

Then the basin was placed directly over the equatorial line. This time, when the plug came out, the water went straight down without any rotation at all. This time some, in the small crowd, gasped. I did not. I didn’t want to appear to be a stupid tourist.

Even though I did not admit it, I was impressed by this demonstration and wondered about it. Since that time, I have decided that the lady must have started the rotational spin of the water when she took out the plug. Even a slight movement of the hand can make the water rotate in any direction that you want. I always hoped that I would be called back to Ecuador so I could again go to that museum to watch more closely, and perhaps catch that lady with her tricks. Sadly, I never returned and I now think the days of me visiting Ecuador are probably over. I am sure she is continuing with her fraudulent demonstration.

So now I am watching Cyclone Jasmine rotate in a clockwise direction and waiting for her to move off to the east so that I can go up to Vanuatu and do my training. In the mean time, I will occupy my mind with more deep and profound thoughts. I hope this has helped you all understand the Coriolis Effect.