On
Friday, we finished the classes on 2 Corinthians by covering the last three
chapters of the book. We focused on the sacrificial life of the apostle Paul as
contrasted with the self-serving nature of the Judaizing teachers who opposed
him. It seems strange that the Corinthians showed respect and honor towards the
self-serving teachers of error more than towards Paul who had given to the
Corinthians brethren so selflessly. However, much the same happens today when
Christians show greater honor and respect for teachers of error than for those
who teach the truth at great personal cost.
We also examined the
admonitions of the last two chapters and made a number of practical
applications to our work as gospel preachers. We continued to have good
interest shown until the very end of the class with excellent comments and
questions from the text. I was more impressed with this group of students than
any we have had previously. Of course, many of them have come to previous
studies and returned for this one, so they are familiar with the routine and
have learned good study habits in approaching such textual classes. I believe
this work is showing as many lasting results for good as any work that we have
done in previous years. Now, these men are able to take the lessons back and
teach others in their own dialects. The added benefit of these preachers from
all over the Philippines being able to study together and grow close as
brethren is also bearing much fruit. The close camaraderie so apparent is
producing good in numerous ways.
After the conclusion of the
class, picture-taking and farewells, I hurried back to my hotel so that I could
finish packing and get on the road to the airport. Jonathan and Nanette Carino
decided to take the bus to the north end of Cebu Island and catch the ferry to
Masbate, but they arranged for me to fly. My plane was to take off at 10:30pm
from Cebu, land in Manila just after midnight, and then connect with another
flight from Manila to Masbate at 5:00am. As you might have guessed, this plane
left no place for sleep during the night. Upon landing in Manila, I found out
that I had to take a bus to terminal 4, the old domestic airport. I was
instructed in very broken English to wait in a lobby for “over 45 minutes” and
take the bus that was “red then blue then white.” A little over an hour later,
a blue and yellow bus came. I asked the driver if it was the shuttle to
terminal 4 and found out it was. We got to the other terminal a little before
2:00am and had to wait for the terminal to open up. Once it did, I waited in a
chair possibly designed for Japanese torture for the next three hours. At that
time, another bus took us to an ATR prop airplane for the hour and a half
flight to Masbate. Upon arrival at Masbate, the truck or van that was supposed
to meet me did not show up. One of the brethren was there, but neither of us
knew the name of the hotel where I was to stay. Once we found out, the only
means of transportation was a tricycle (a motorcycle with side car), which is
not made for someone my size. Up exiting, I fell and hurt my leg and back, as
well as my pride. At that point, however, I did not care as long as I could get
a bed. I checked in and went straight to bed, not even stirring until a little
after noon.
