Born white, raised a minority

Yes, you read that right. Let me explain.

The other day, when I was taking Isabelle to school, I asked her if they had any Chinese students. Where did that come from?? A couple of weeks ago we had talked about the Chinese Immersion program at her school. Naturally, that raises the question, "Are there any Chinese kids at your school?" Plus, I tend to ask completely off the wall the questions. Anyway, she said yes but she didn't know how many. I suggested she count them when she went to the cafeteria for lunch. She said she wasn't going to do that, so I looked it up. (By the way the answer is sixteen.)

When I learned the racial breakdown of her school, out of curiosity I looked at the other schools in Rock Hill my grandchildren attend. I thought, "This is interesting, let me see if I can find the racial breakdown of the schools I attended. I did! That's how I came to my title - Born white, raised a minority.

I was raised in Hawai'i. At least from 3rd grade through my junior year in high school. We moved to Hawai'i in either late 1963 or early 1964. When we first arrived we took a room at the Circle Hotel in Waikiki. Shaped like a Chinese lantern, the hotel was finished in 1963. It's still there.

Shortly after this we found a place to live, still in the Waikiki area, and I went to school. The first school I attended was Lili’uokalani Elementary School, named after the last monarch in Hawai'i,  Queen Lydia Lili’uokalani.

A couple of things about the racial breakdowns I am about to present. First, Lili'uokalani school was closed in 2012. Second, all the data for Hawai'i schools is recent. I don't even know if they kept records back when I went to school; if they did I have no idea how to get it; and I don't imagine there has been that much of a change.

This the breakdown for Lili'uokalani Elementary. Spoiler alert - this will be the largest percentage of whites you will see.

After 3rd grade we moved to the Windward side of the island. Kahalu'u. This is what we would call the country. I remember that house, we lived on Kamehameha Highway, literally across the street from the beach. Not a nice beach, but the ocean. I attended 4th grade at Kahalu'u Elementary. 5.5% of the students are white. The only thing that has changed is the Latino population  - there wasn't one back then.

After 4th grade we moved to Kaneohe. We lived here the rest of my stay in Hawai'i. I can still remember the house and the address. The house burned down several years ago. I went to Kapunahala Elementary for 5th and 6th grade. White people make up 3.47% of the school population.

7th and 8th grade I attended Samuel W. King Intermediate School. This says 9%. 60 of the 668 students. To be honest, I don't remember that many!

After 8th grade, my Dad wanted me to go to school in Kailua where there were more white people. I had become a "local boy". I remember complaining to my brother Sean, "There's so many haoles there!" He said, "Jeff, you are a haole." [haole is the Hawaiian word for white folks]. I attended 9th grade at an intermediate school in Kailua whose name I can't remember. Then 10th and 11th grades were spent at Kailua High School. There were indeed haoles everywhere! As I looked at attendance figures, the total number of students has declined a good bit, and so has the white population. There may have a been a larger percentage in my day, but still a minority.

Here is a photo of the 2008 class reunion of the 1973 graduating class. I graduated in 1973 (from a school on the mainland), but these are some of the people I went to school with. I'm sure there were plenty people who didn't go to the reunion. The diversity is amazing!

As I said at the beginning, I was born white but grew up as a minority. Not oppressed as other minorities in other areas, but minority nonetheless. It does give you a slightly different perspective on life and people when you've been among the few. At first, I took plenty lickin's for being a haole (translated: I caught a lot of grief), but eventually I became a local boy.

Let me close by putting everything in perspective : I was living in Hawai'i !!

What is it you would like for me to do for you?

The Gospel reading for this past Sunday was Mark 10:46-52

46 And they came to Jericho: and as he went out of Jericho with his disciples and a great number of people, blind Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, sat by the highway side begging.
47 And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out, and say, Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me.
48 And many charged him that he should hold his peace: but he cried the more a great deal, Thou son of David, have mercy on me.
49 And Jesus stood still, and commanded him to be called. And they call the blind man, saying unto him, Be of good comfort, rise; he calleth thee.
50 And he, casting away his garment, rose, and came to Jesus.
51 And Jesus answered and said unto him, What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? The blind man said unto him, Lord, that I might receive my sight.
52 And Jesus said unto him, Go thy way; thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he received his sight, and followed Jesus in the way.

There is a lot in this story about the power of God and the faith that receives it. I thought about that as the pastor preached on this very section.

I only want to consider one verse in this post, and that's verse 51. The KJV has it, What wilt thou that I should do when to thee? While that captures the Greek well enough, I confess people today might stumble over it. The ESV has it, What do you want me to do for you? And I admit, while it's not bad, it just sounds harsh, almost irritated, to my ears, What do you want? And that's clearly not what Jesus was saying.

It's all in this word translated wilt thou. The word can refer to purpose or to desire. When it comes to translating the Bible, I prefer a concordant or word for word literal translation (as far as makes sense in English), but here is a time when perhaps a dynamic equivalence would make it clear. I would translate it like this, What is it you would like for me to do for you?

By saying, Have mercy on me, the man was indicating he wanted something, he had a request for Jesus. And when Jesus spoke to him he was acknowledging that and asking the man, “What can I do for you? How can I help you?”

At first glance that may seem kind of silly. The man was blind, obviously he would want his sight, yet Jesus asked him, What is it you would like for me to do for you? This teaches us an important spiritual principle: It is important, it is necessary, that we speak out what we want God to do. It's not enough to simply say, “Help me, Lord,” “Have mercy on me Lord,” “Give me grace...” We need to be specific. Not just, “Bless my family,” but, “Save them, deliver them, heal them, sanctify them...” We need to make specific requests.

We not only need to make specific requests, but be persistent – he began to cry out, and say, Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me. Began to cry out, meaning he was repeating this over and over. At first he received no response. He cried out and got nothing back. Then many charged him that he should hold his peace. Everyone around him sought to deter him, “Stop that. It won’t work.” How discouraging. How did he respond? He cried the more a great deal. He would not give up until he had Jesus’ attention. Persistence.

We can’t forget faith. Jesus said to him, Go thy way; thy faith hath made thee whole. He cried out in faith. Faith to recognize Jesus as thou son of David. Faith to cry for mercy, faith to persist, faith to make a specific request. When I pray I need to make a specific request, I need to believe God for it, and I need to pray until I receive from Him. Amen.

And if it's important for me to articulate my request, this is also a principle when ministering to others - I need to get them to tell me what they want before I pray for them.

When I was Pastor in Pensacola, FL, Don Robson was pastor of the church in Elberta, AL, 30-40 minutes away. He told me of a Sunday when he had offered to pray and anoint with oil anyone who wanted to be healed. A few people responded and he was praying for them. It was his custom to ask them, “What are you believing God for?” He asked a woman who had come forward and she said, “I have a condition and the doctor said it would take three surgeries to correct it. I would like for you to believe God with me that it would just take one surgery.” Now Don told me he would have prayed for no surgeries, but he joined her in prayer and faith that one surgery would be sufficient. (It was!) But you see, it was important to ask her, “What are you asking God for, what do you want from the Lord?” Because it was different than what Don was thinking, and you can’t agree in prayer when you are asking for different things.

We had five churches all within 45 minutes of each other on the Gulf Coast, we used to have men's rallies, women's rallies, youth rallies. The youth rallies were a day of games, food, music, and a message. I remember one particular rally, the evangelist was pleading with the young people to come to Christ. His closing illustration was a story about somebody who had gone to church, heard the gospel, not responded, and died in a car crash on the way home. He gave the invitation and several young people responded. I was one of the counselors for the day and I met an elementary-aged boy and took him off into a room to pray. I asked him right off, “Why did you come forward?” He said, “I don't want to die in a car crash on my way home.” Oh man! I don't remember how the rest of that time went but I do know that I had to start at the beginning and clear up his misunderstanding. And I wouldn't have known that if I hadn't asked him, “What are you asking God for?”

When someone asks me to pray for them, I need to ask them, “What is it you would like for Him to do for you?” and go from there.

What a blessed and faith inspiring question:

What is it you would like for me to do for you?

12:54 pm last Thursday

With a Wild Cherry Pepsi and a book, I made myself comfortable on my chair in the back yard, planning to enjoy some time outside. My phone rang. It was Dave. When you get a call in the middle of the day from someone you know is at work, you have a bad feeling as you answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey Dad. I was wondering if you could help me, I have a small emergency.”

Aimee had traveled down to Johnson City, TN the day before and was scheduled to drive back home today. She had in fact left. When she turned off the road into a convenience store for a snack, she noticed her car was smoking. Actually on fire! I mean, flames!

My first question was, “Is she OK?” He assured me she was not hurt physically but was  shook up, then explained what he was calling about. He was wondering if I could go up to Johnson City and get her. I told him I could and would but that I was five hours away. We decided to ask Debbie (Mary’s sister living in Johnson City) if she could pick her up and take her back to her house and then I would arrange to fly her home the next day. Debbie graciously agreed to our plan. And that was a LOT of grace - Dave thought Aimee was maybe twenty minutes into her trip, turns out she was an hour and twenty minutes in!

Then I called Aimee. She was rattled. I don’t blame her. In fact, I never once told her to calm down. I asked her if she was hurt in any way and assured her we would take care of her and make sure she got back to Debbie’s house and back home, but never once did I suggest she stop being upset. How could I? I’ve never been there.

I’ve had flat tires, blowouts, dead batteries, run out of gas, had a transmission die driving on the interstate, and more, but never, no never…. Wait, let me think about it … nope, never had a car catch on fire! Before this, I never even knew anybody who had their car catch on fire! She was shook up? Uh, yeah!

She told me she called 911. I can only imagine the conversation:

“This is 911. What’s your emergency?”

“My car’s on fire! Can you please send someone before it blows up!!”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at a gas station. Please hurry!!!”

Afterwards I was struck by the contrasts in all this. Where I am it’s a peaceful, calm, lazy, albeit hot, Thursday afternoon. Where she is her car is on fire and there are firefighters putting it out.

Praise the Lord she was not hurt, Debbie was able to bring her back to her house, and we were able to secure a ticket for a flight home the next day. Oh yeah, that weekend they were able to get a new car and it seems she is right on schedule with her plan to move down to Tennessee.

All this reminded me of another day and another fire. On March 30, 2013 I was asleep in the afternoon. I had worked the night before and had to work that night. I was peacefully and soundly sleeping when Tiernan burst into the room, “Grandaddy, wake up! Aunt Erica’s on the phone and her apartment burned down!”

Erica was living and working in South Korea. Somehow a fire started in her apartment while she was away and she lost everything. She was in Korea, we were in Carolina, and there was nothing we could do. Praise the Lord she was safe! That night I wrote a poem about it:

I was awakened today
Bad news from far away
“Wake up” I heard him say
“Erica’s house burned down today.”

And in a scene straight from a dream
There was Erica’s tear stained face
“My place burned up, I’ve lost it all”
That was the reason for the call

The blessing of Skype –
I can hear right away
The curse of being far away -
There’s nothing I can do today

How do you remember everything you’ve lost?
How do you figure up how much it costs?
This is hard, but how can I really know how rough?
I sit surrounded by all of my stuff

God had mercy on my child
And now may He give her grace
And wipe those tears from her face
And fill her heart with His love


I'm trying to figure out how to wrap this up and all I can think of is the preacher we heard one Sunday. He was the special speaker that day. He preached for a while then announced, "Well, I guess I'm done." Well, me too!