Pillsbury Comets Win Regional Tournament

The Pillsbury Comets basketball team won a dramatic come-from-behind victory on Saturday afternoon here in Owatonna. Pillsbury was the host school for the NCCAA North Central Region tournament, and the Comets were playing the North Central University Rams for the regional championship. The Comets were down 53-25 with fifteen minutes to play in the game, but they never gave up on themselves. They mangaged to tie the game in regulation, and then it took three overtimes before the Comets finally prevailed 91-86. Nancy and I were in attendance, and it was one of the most electrifying games that I have ever seen in person. You can imagine the crowd reaction when the game was over. The victory was a credit to our young men and the coaching staff.

I would like to pay tribute to Cedric Jones, the North Central coach. Even though his North Central team had just lost a heartbreaker, Coach Jones made several eloquent and gracious comments to the crowd, as well as to the Pillsbury Comets and their coach Keith Champion.

Speaking of Coach Champion, I would like to honor him for his ministry here at Pillsbury. I have known Keith for nearly ten years now, and I consider him to be a wonderful role model for his athletes. He has coached at two or three other Christian colleges, and everywhere he goes, people hold Keith in high regard. He even writes a weekly column for the Owatonna People's Press. The name of his column is "From the Sidelines," in which Keith discusses the athletic world from a Christian perspective. And before I forget to mention it, Keith received a great honor Saturday. He was named Coach of the Year in the NCCAA North Central Region. All in all, it was a wonderful weekend here at Pillsbury. We thank the Lord for His blessings in our lives. That's the bottom line of why we do what we do here at Pillsbury College.

Pillsbury College Student Teachers

Friday was the last day of classes for our student teachers here at Pillsbury College. They have six weeks of block classes before heading out for their student teaching assignments next week. We have nine seniors doing their student teaching this spring; six are elementary education majors, and three are secondary education majors. Most of the young ladies are student teaching here in Minnesota, but two of them are student teaching out-of-state, one of them in Pennsylvania and the other in Wisconsin. Miss Brenda Johnson, my colleague in the Education Division, organizes a reception for the student teachers before they leave, and you can see our student teachers at the reception in the attached photograph.

Pillsbury College is all about training young people for vocational service and ministry. We will be praying for these young ladies as they begin student teaching next week. And Lord willing, they will be "walking the line" along with the other Pillsbury seniors exactly eleven weeks today when we have graduation here at Pillsbury. Graduation is always an exciting time for the graduating seniors, and Pillsbury is no exception.

New Administrative Position at Pillsbury Baptist Bible College

Dr. Robert Crane, president of Pillsbury Baptist Bible College, made an important announcement in chapel this morning. Dr. Werner Lumm, who presently serves as Pillsbury's Academic Dean, will take on an added administrative responsibility. He will become Executive Vice President of Pillsbury. This will allow Dr. Crane to be away from the campus on a regular basis to promote the College and to interact with prospective students. Dr. Lumm has an extensive background in education, having served in a variety of academic settings previous to his arrival at Pillsbury three years ago.

It just so happened that our chapel speaker this morning was Dr. Carl Herbster, who is the pastor of Tri-City Baptist Church in Independence, Missouri. Before coming to Pillsbury, Dr. Lumm worked with Dr. Herbster as the Administrative Director of the American Association of Christian Schools. Dr. Herbster is also a good friend of the McGuire family. Several of his children went to school with our older children at Bob Jones Elementary School back in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Please pray for Pillsbury as we continue educating young people for Christian service. Our desire is to see our graduates serve the Lord in whatever way He leads. Some will be involved in full-time Christian vocational ministry, while others will find vocational opportunities in the secular world. All of our graduates will also be prepared to minister in good local churches as well. If you know of any high school students seeking a Christian college education, please encourage them to check out Pillsbury Baptist Bible College.

Ronald Reagan (1911-2004)

Today is Ronald Reagan's birthday. He was born in 1911, as was Dr. Bob Jones, Jr. My dad was also born in 1911, just a few days after Ronald Reagan. Reagan was born in northern Illinois, and my dad was born in eastern Kentucky. I used to tell my dad that I knew three famous people who were born in 1911, but that many people didn't know who the most important person born in 1911. That was my dad!

At any rate, I am including a portion of a classic Reagan speech that he delivered in 1974. He retells the story of what happened to some of the American patriots who signed the Decalaration of Independence. In this time of great political division in our country, these words are an inspiration to me and they remind me of why we live in the greatest country in the history of the world. I trust you will be inspired and moved by Reagan's observations:



"Some years ago a writer, who happened to be an avid student of history, told me a story about that day in the little hall in Philadelphia where honorable men, hard-pressed by a King who was flouting the very law they were willing to obey, debated whether they should take the fateful step of declaring their independence from that king. I was told by this man that the story could be found in the writings of Jefferson. I confess, I never researched or made an effort to verify it. Perhaps it is only legend. But story, or legend, he described the atmosphere, the strain, the debate, and that as men for the first time faced the consequences of such an irretrievable act, the walls resounded with the dread word of treason and its price—the gallows and the headman's axe. As the day wore on the issue hung in the balance, and then, according to the story, a man rose in the small gallery. He was not a young man and was obviously calling on all the energy he could muster. Citing the grievances that had brought them to this moment he said, “Sign that parchment. They may turn every tree into a gallows, every home into a grave and yet the words of that parchment can never die. For the mechanic in his workshop, they will be words of hope, to the slave in the mines—freedom.” And he added, “If my hands were freezing in death, I would sign that parchment with my last ounce of strength. Sign, sign if the next moment the noose is around your neck, sign even if the hall is ringing with the sound of headman’s axe, for that parchment will be the textbook of freedom, the bible of the rights of man forever.” And then it is said he fell back exhausted. But 56 delegates, swept by his eloquence, signed the Declaration of Independence, a document destined to be as immortal as any work of man can be. And according to the story, when they turned to thank him for his timely oratory, he could not be found nor were there any who knew who he was or how he had come in or gone out through the locked and guarded doors.

"Well, as I say, whether story or legend, the signing of the document that day in Independence Hall was miracle enough. Fifty-six men, a little band so unique—we have never seen their like since—pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor. Sixteen gave their lives, most gave their fortunes and all of them preserved their sacred honor. What manner of men were they? Certainly they were not an unwashed, revolutionary rebel, nor were then adventurers in a heroic mood. Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists, 11 were merchants and tradesmen, nine were farmers. They were men who would achieve security but valued freedom more.

"And what price did they pay? John Hart was driven from the side of his desperately ill wife. After more than a year of living almost as an animal in the forest and in caves, he returned to find his wife had died and his children had vanished. He never saw them again, his property was destroyed and he died of a broken heart—but with no regret, only pride in the part he had played that day in Independence Hall. Carter Braxton of Virginia lost all his ships—they were sold to pay his debts. He died in rags. So it was with Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Rutledge, Morris, Livingston, and Middleton. Nelson, learning that Cornwallis was using his home for a headquarters, personally begged Washington to fire on him and destroy his home--he died bankrupt. It has never been reported that any of these men ever expressed bitterness or renounced their action as not worth the price. Fifty-six rank-and-file, ordinary citizens had founded a nation that grew from sea to shining sea, five million farms, quiet villages, cities that never sleep—all done without an area re-development plan, urban renewal or a rural legal assistance program."

Words and thoughts to ponder.

My Oboe Odyssey: Part I

Many of us learned to play the piano or some other musical intrument when we were young, often at the behest of a parent. In my case, I had a mom who was a fine violinist and music teacher. She also taught piano, but I absolutely refused to take lessons from her, or anyone else for that matter. Fifty years later, I regret that fact, but there is nothing I can do to change that situation. Fortunately, my mom did prevail upon me to play some instrument. She often suggested that I consider the French horn, the bassoon, or the oboe. In the summer of 1961, I decided to give the oboe a shot. What a decision.

I soon discovered that many of my colleagues already had been playing clarinet, flute, trumpet, or whatever, for a year or two. And I also quickly discovered the first rule of begining oboe players: "Develop a thick skin." When a flutist or clarinetist makes a mistake, they just shrug it off. But when an oboist makes a mistake, everyone knows it. It can be very embarassing. I was most fortunate in that we had an excellent band director at Plymouth Junior High School East. His name was Mr. Larry Livingston; he had grown up playing clarinet in the "big band" era. He could be a little crazy at times, but he loved directing the band. Each spring, we had a big production called the "Band Show," and it was a fun time.

There was also the question of taking private lessons. I started out taking lessons from a high school student and then a college student, but by the time I got to high school, I was studying with Ron Odmark, the second oboist in the Detroit Symphony. He was a great guy and very easy to get along with. He taught me how to make reeds and also how to play halfway decently. I played my share of solos for the Michigan Solo and Ensemble Festival, but I never really liked having to memorize the music. But I survived.

It was also my good fortune to have a great high school band director at Plymouth High School. Mr. James Griffith (affectionately known as "Griff") was a no-nonsense graduate of the University of Michigan. We played good band literature, and I appreciated his approach. Some of my peers didn't care for him as much as I did, but that's just the way things were.

During marching band season, I did NOT play my oboe. I got to play bass drum and tenor drum instead. Of course, marching band was a lot of fun, but I was always glad to get back to concert band when the marching season was over. Mr. Griffith knew good arrangers over at U of M, so we got to play some neat pieces in marching band, as well as in concert band. All of this was good preparation for college, even though I didn't know it at the time. In future installments, I want to share some of my experiences at Interlochen's National Music Camp and at Bob Jones University.