Flight Paths

The last time we went to visit our grandsons, they had acquired a miniature Foosball game.  About two feet long, each player had only two rods to handle instead of the usual four apiece.  And that was plenty for rookie player Grandma.  Both boys beat me soundly, but by the end of the weekend I was at least holding my own.  Once I lost 9-7 instead of the customary shutout.  Being older and thus, more coordinated and better able to use strategy, 9 year old Silas always beat 6 year old Judah.  So I imagine it did Judah's little ego a world of good to beat up on Grandma!

              Later that first day, I also helped with piano practice.  (Nice to have a former piano teacher as a grandmother.)  Silas is far more advanced than any student his age I ever had, and it is a joy to listen to him.  The way his little mind picks up instruction is another pleasure.  After just a couple of thirty minute sessions, his playing was cleaner and his interpretation more mature.

              Judah has just begun.  His problem is confidence in his left hand.  He showed me his method book and went through about 8 pages lickety-split, but always using only his right hand, even when the top of the page clearly showed the left hand fingers needed to play the bass clef notes.  He even had to think backwards to get the correct notes played because, if you haven't noticed, your hand is a mirror image of the right.  Your thumb is your first finger on each hand and the finger numbers go from there.  So playing a note with the fourth finger of the left hand requires playing that note with the second finger of your right hand in order to play the correct note.  Thinking backwards was easy for him, but he steadfastly refused to use his left hand.  He may not have said it this way, but he clearly understood that his right hand was dominant and his left the off hand.

              Whenever I suggested he try it with the left hand, he compressed his lips and shook his little head.  Finally, this teacher of nearly forty years' experience figured out what to say.

              "Do you remember how hard it was to play with your right hand the first time you started?  But now that you have practiced it, your hand is stronger and you can do it much more easily, right?"  I finally got an oh-so-slight nod.  "So if you start using your left hand, it will get stronger, right?"  No nod this time, but he was still listening.  "And when your left hand gets strong too, you will be able to play Foosball better and maybe beat your big brother." 

              Now you could see the wheels spinning.  "How about giving it a try?" I asked.

              "I will sometime."

              "How about if I leave for a minute?"

              I didn't really get a nod, but I left the room and before five seconds had elapsed I heard the piano.  He might have played a little more hesitantly than with the right hand, but that left hand played every single piece whether it was written for right or left hand.  Do you know why that worked?  I gave him some motivation that meant something to him.

              Do you think God doesn't give us the same thing?  You can find what my college Behavior Modification class called positive and negative reinforcement on practically every page of the Bible.  From "in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die" (Gen 2:17) to "and he shall wipe away every tear from their eyes…" (Rev 21:4). 

           God finds the motivation that means the most to the people he is dealing with.  Sometimes we seem to think that we should be doing things "just because" and that will make us better than anyone else.  Please find for me any place that says that.  Even when it seems that way, there is an unspoken prod somewhere in the context—gratitude, fear, love, something that will help us accomplish the task.  Even Jesus was given motivation:  "…who for the joy set before him endured the cross…" (Heb 12:2).

        Sometimes we misinterpret the motivation.  All those descriptions of Heaven as a place of magnificent wealth?  God is not appealing to our greed.  Remember who he spoke to.  Those people understood what it meant to pray for their "daily" bread.  They didn't have well-stocked pantries, grocery stores on the corner, bank accounts, life insurance, stock portfolios, or any other of the things we have.  He was appealing to their desire for security.  A place so wealthy that gold and jewels were used as building materials and pavement meant they would never have to worry about keeping their families fed and cared for.  Walls so high meant they did not have to worry about Barbarians coming over the mountains to raid their villages.

         As with all motivations, we hope to mature so that someday we can motivate ourselves with something a little less mundane.  As our spirituality grows, so should the incentives we use to succeed.  Someday I hope Judah will use his left hand at the piano so he can be a better pianist, and not just so he can beat his brother at Foosball.  But for now?  Whatever works.

           Find what works for you.  Don't be ashamed when you need a little help along the way.  If you need a metaphorical Mt Gerizim, find it.  If you need a Mt Ebal, give yourself a little tough love.  Motivation is not a dirty word.
 
Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the LORD of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need. (Mal 3:10).
 
Dene Ward

On June 13, 2005, I was the Alpha patient, the first patient to receive a brand new type of intraocular lens that had not even been approved by the FDA.  I have several rare eye conditions and it was the only hope of saving my vision.

From my journal:
June 13, 2005, Monday—This is the big day.  “Terrified” pretty well says it all.  We began it with a prayer and that prayer continued on silently through the day for both of us. 

              We arrived early, expecting a wait, but they took me in early, after I signed some special consent forms upstairs.  Since the FDA had not approved this, “you will have to sign your life away,” the doctor told me, but what choice did I have?  I signed page after page, and then initialed some handwritten lines added up along the side of the form in the margin.  One of them said, “I understand that no one knows how this material will interact with human tissue.”  Then they sent me back downstairs to wait for pre-op. 

               We shared a long hug when they called my name.  Most folks were there for simple cataract surgery so I am sure that no one understood why we made such a big deal out of this, but it was possible that I would never see Keith out of that eye again, or the other one for much longer either.    
As usual with me, it took several tries to get an IV, along with a lot of pain and blood. 

               “You are a real challenge.”  First try, first bandage. 

            “Yep, you’re gonna be a REEEEAL challenge.”  Second try, second bandage.

              “Oh, I’m so sorry.”  Third try, third bandage.  “Let me go get the resident expert.”  She must have been, because she got it first try.

             They told me I would be in a “twilight sleep," that I would be able to respond but wouldn’t care and wouldn’t remember.  Famous last words.  I remember everything, including everything the doctor said as he worked.  Especially after they threw that sheet over my face.  The claustrophobia came in with a rush.  “You have oxygen, Mrs. Ward, you can breathe.”  Right.  Sure.  Someone must have accidentally turned it off. 

               Then the blue kaleidoscope show started, and at least I was no longer staring at what I knew must have been an inch thick, non-porous, air-tight wrap over my whole body.
 
             “We have full angle closure.”  Yikes.  Not good.  Maybe I should not have done so much research—I know too much.

              “Iris prolapse,” I heard next.  What?  This is what they said would abort the surgery, but Dr Osher kept going.

              “This is not small enough.  Give me another muscle hook.”  Now that’s not a pleasant thought. 

              “That’s too big.  Give me a smaller one.  No, not that one.  It’s still too big.  I want the (some number).” 

              Tug, tug. “I can’t get it.”  Tug, tug.  “Let me try the (some instrument).”  Tug, tug.  “Got it.”  Thank goodness, I was about ready to yank it out myself, whatever it was.

              “Now it’s time to make some decisions.”  Now?  What does he mean "now?"  Isn’t this a little late?

              “This is difficult.”  Amen.

              “Thank you, Lord.”  It was not the last time the doctor thanked God, nor me either.

              Assorted technical stuff and lots of video off, video on for the next two hours.

              “I’ve got Healon 5 (?) behind the lens.  (Flush, flush, flush).  This may be obsessive but I can’t leave it or she’ll have a capsular blockage.  I’m not going to use this on the other eye.  (Response:  Not at all?)  Can’t risk it.”

              “I’m putting in enough drops to float the Queen Mary.” 
After nearly three hours under that sheet, the light show stopped.

              I cannot see a thing with the right eye.  “Your eye will stay shut because of the anesthesia till sometime tonight.”  That explains that.  I did not even realize it was shut.

                My blood pressure is 170/98.  Terror will do that to you.
 
The things that go through your mind during a time like that always seem ridiculous when it's all over, but near-hysteria is another product of terror.  I think hearing everything he said, especially when he became agitated because things were not going well, made it worse.  He may have thought I was calm merely because I never uttered a sound until he asked a question, but I was just too petrified to move.
 
             Look through that again.  The thing he said that I remember best was, "Now it's time to make some decisions."  That came closest to making me lose it.  Isn't the middle of a first ever surgery a little late to be making decisions?  I learned later what he really meant.  This man was as ready for this surgery as he could be, staying late several evenings with a full surgical team to practice on pig eyes before he ever touched me.  He knew exactly what tools to use and the course of the procedure.  What he did not know, was how my 15 mm nanophthalmic eye would react when he placed the 50 diopter prismatic IOL inside it, and what he might have to do if something unexpected happened—like full angle closure or an iris prolapse.  He did not know how, or even if, I would be able to see afterward.  He very carefully explained that in clear, no-nonsense language the day before.  Yes, he was as ready as he could be.  There was nothing slapdash, hit-or-miss about it.  And due to all that preparation, he succeeded in saving my eyes for a while longer, accomplishing the same near-miraculous feat six months later with the left eye.

              How well do you plan for the major trials of your life?  That is exactly what each temptation is—just like a major and very dangerous surgery.  No, you cannot know exactly when it will happen.  No, you cannot know exactly how Satan will come at you.  But do you have a plan in place for defeating him?  Are you building a fortress around your soul with prayer, Bible study, and the fellowship of brothers and sisters who can help?  "If this temptation comes, this is what I will do," and then work on those very things.  Have you planned which passages to read, which hymns to sing, what words to pray, or who to call for encouragement?  Or are you going into major surgery with an unlicensed surgeon who flunked his anatomy test—are you counting on an unprepared you and only you?  I had a doctor who is considered one of the top five eye surgeons in the world and even he practiced!

              When the actual trial comes, it will hit you hard and fast and it will be far worse than you ever imagined it could be.  But how much worse will it be if you are not even a little prepared?  When you do not prepare to win, you have prepared yourself to fail.

              NOW is the time to make some decisions.  If you think you can just sit back and start operating and everything will be fine, you will lose your patient at the outset—and that patient is YOU!
 
For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2:11-14).
 
Dene Ward

One time when we kept our grandsons, twenty-month-old Judah usually climbed into my lap every evening as we sat at the table for a final cup of coffee.  It took me a minute the first time his little hand reached out in the air, but finally I realized he was trying to catch the steam wafting over my mug, and was completely mystified when it disappeared between his chubby little fingers.

              A lot of people spend their lives trying to catch the steam, vapors that seem solid but disintegrate in their grasping hands.  They do it in all sorts of ways, and all of them are useless. 

              Do they really think they can stop time?  Over 11,000,000 surgical and nonsurgical cosmetic procedures were performed in this country in 2013, and we aren’t talking medically necessary procedures.  The top five were liposuctions, breast augmentations, eyelid surgeries, tummy tucks, and nose surgeries.*

              Then there are the folks chasing wealth and security.  Didn’t the recent Great Recession, as it is now called, teach them anything?  Others are striving to make a name for themselves.  These are usually the same folks who tell Christians how pathetic we are to believe that some Higher Power would ever notice we even exist on this puny blue dot in the universe.  Yet there they all go looking for fame, fortune, notoriety, beauty, or even their version of eternal life.  All of it is nothing more than a dream.  It will disappear, if not in a natural disaster or an economic meltdown, then the day they die—and they will die no matter how hard they try not to.  They are the ones grasping at dreams which are only a vapor that disappears in a flash.

              Our dream isn’t a dream at all.  It is a hope, which in the Biblical sense means it is all but realized.  Sin and death have been conquered by a force we can only try to comprehend, by a love we can never repay, and by a will we can but do our best to imitate.  Yet there it is, not a wisp of white floating over a warm porcelain mug, but a solid foundation upon which we base our faith.  Heb 6:19 calls it “an anchor.”  Have you ever seen a real anchor?  If there is anything the opposite of a wisp of steam, that’s it—solid and strong, able to hold us steady in the worst winds of life.  Tell me how a pert nose and a full bank account can do that!

              The world thinks it knows what is real while we sit like a toddler grasping at steam.  When eternity comes, they will finally see that they are wrong.  Spiritual things are the only things that last, the only real things at all.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal, 2 Cor 4:6-8.

*Information from the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery

Dene Ward

A young woman is making biscuits for her new husband.  When she tries to roll them out she has a problem—they keep falling apart.  It is all she can do to make them stick together long enough to get them on the baking sheet.  And when she tries to take them off, they fall to pieces.  Her husband tells her, “That’s all right.  It’s the taste that matters,” as he gallantly takes a bite, and a little bite is all he can get.  They crumble so easily he cannot even butter them.  Before long, his plate is filled with crumbs and he has not managed to eat even half a biscuit’s worth.
 
           The next morning she calls her mother. “Too much shortening,” her mother says.  So that evening the new bride tries again.  If shortening is the culprit, she reasons, maybe no shortening at all would be even better. 

            That night, as she slides the biscuits off into the basket, each lands with an ominous thud.  Her husband gamely takes a bite, or at least tries to.  They might as well be hockey pucks. 

            I imagine that even non-cooks can see the point here.  Each ingredient in the recipe makes a difference; each one is important and must not be left out—the shortening makes the biscuits tender, the flour gives them enough structure to hold together.  Why are we smart enough to see that here, but forget it when it comes to spiritual matters?

            One group says faith is the only thing we need.  Another says strict obedience is the only thing we need.  One of them bakes crumbs, the other hockey pucks. 

            Every generation reacts to the past generation’s errors by overcorrecting.  Each group is so afraid of making the same mistake that they make another one, and worse, usually sneer at their fathers for missing it so badly, thinking in their youthful arrogance that they have discovered something brand new.  What they have usually discovered is the same error another generation made long ago, the error their fathers tried to correct and overdid as well.

            Why is it so hard to stop that swinging pendulum in the middle?  Why do we arrogantly suppose that the last group did everything wrong and we are doing everything right. 

            Does God want faith?  Yes, the righteous shall live by his faith, Hab 2:4. 

            Does God want obedience?  Yes, to obey is better than sacrifice, 1 Sam 15:22.

            Does God want our hearts? He always has, and why can’t we put it all together?  Thanks be to God…that you became obedient from the heart, Rom 6:17.

            The Hebrew write equates disobedience with a lack of faith.  And to whom did he swear that they should not enter into his rest but to them who were disobedient?  And we see that they were not able to enter in due to unbelief, Heb 3:18,19.

            Can God make it any plainer?  He doesn’t want crumbs; He doesn’t want hockey pucks; He wants a nice tender biscuit of a heart that is firm enough to hold the shape of the pattern used to cut it.  Follow the recipe God gave you.  When you go about your day today, make sure you have all the ingredients.
 
Woe to you scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you tithe mint, anise, and cumin, and have left undone the weightier matters of the law.  But these [matters of the heart] you ought to have done, and not left the other [matters of strict obedience] undone, Matt 23:23.

Dene Ward

The earth is Jehovah's, and the fulness thereof; The world, and they that dwell therein. For he has founded it upon the seas, And established it upon the floods, Psalm 24:1,2.
 
            Many scholars believe that the twenty-fourth psalm was written by David to celebrate the arrival of the Ark of the Covenant to his new capital, Jerusalem.  When you read 1 Chronicles 13 and 15 and see the great amount of singing and worshipping going on, and then read the words to this psalm, that supposition makes good sense, and the ancient writings of the rabbis attest to it as well.

            However, even here at the beginning of the psalm David sees a danger in settling this manifestation of God’s presence in one location—the people would be tempted to think that God was stuck there, that He did not reign over the rest of the earth, much less any other people.  So he begins this psalm with the passage above to remind them that God could not be put in a literal box, and certainly not in a figurative box of one’s own expectations and understanding.  God made the whole world, and therefore rules the whole world and every person on it.

            David was right to be so concerned.  Ezekiel spent several of his opening chapters trying to get the same point across to the captives in Babylon by the canal Chebar, who believed that God was no longer with them, but still back in Jerusalem.  He is right here with you, Ezekiel told them.  That is the point of that amazing vision in chapter one—God can be anywhere at any time.

            Do you think we don’t have the same problem?  We keep trying to put God in a box called a church building or a meetinghouse or whatever your own bias leans toward calling it.  That’s why we have people who compartmentalize their religion.  They think “church” is all about what happens at the building, and the change in their behavior when they leave that building is the proof of it. 

            A man who can recite the “plan of salvation” in Bible class will cheat his customers to his own gain during the week.

            A woman who can quote proof texts verbatim on Sunday morning will turn around and gossip over the phone every other day of the week.

            A couple who appears every time the door is opened will carry on a running feud with a neighbor and treat each other as if none of the passages in the New Testament apply to anyone with the same last name. 

            What? God asked His people.  Will you act like the heathen around you six days a week “and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, ‘We are delivered!’—only to go on doing all these abominations?”  Jer 7:10.  David used the middle of this psalm to remind the people who was fit to come before the presence of the LORD—only men of holiness, honesty, and integrity, not just on the Sabbath, but always. 

            Because they put God in a box called after the covenant He made with them, they thought that their behavior only counted in His presence, forgetting the lessons that both David and Solomon had tried to teach them—God cannot be confined to anything manmade, not even the most magnificent Temple ever built by men, much less a comparatively miniscule box.  As David proclaimed in finishing Psalm 24, Who is this King of glory? The LORD, strong and mighty, the LORD, mighty in battle!...The LORD of hosts, he is the King of glory! — Selah. 

            Selah--pause, and feel the impact.
 
Who shall ascend the hill of the LORD? And who shall stand in his holy place? ​He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to what is false and does not swear deceitfully. He will receive blessing from the LORD and righteousness from the God of his salvation, Psa 24:3-5.
 
Dene Ward

Every fall, usually in late September or early October, we make our first trip outdoors on a cool, clear evening to eat by the fire.  It is usually hot dogs and chips, but occasionally chili or soup or stew, or sometimes just a cup of cocoa and a few homemade shortbread cookies. 

Chloe knows the drill and as soon as she sees the wooden tray that Lucas made in high school shop class loaded with paper plates, plastic cups, and bags of chips, or maybe a tall stewpot and some bowls, or perhaps just a couple of steaming mugs, she follows close behind.  Does she beg?  No, she does not.  She sits a small distance from our lawn chairs by the fire and carefully watches.  Her eyes will follow the franks as Keith skewers them on the three foot long fork, or she will monitor me as I ladle out the steaming chili.  Whatever it is we have, she quietly sits and watches with eyes gleaming in the firelight. 

But as soon as she sees me load up the tray tables next to our chairs, she bounces up on all fours and her tail begins to wag.  After well over twelve years, she knows what is coming.  As I head back to the wooden tray one more time, she finally begins hopping a tiny bit back and forth on her front feet, and licks her chops.  "Good girl," I tell her.  "Here you go," and hand her a Busy Bone, usually the Chewnola variety, which we have learned over the years keeps her happy the longest.  Usually, we all three finish eating at the same time.

Because we have always given her a treat while we eat, she trusts us to do it again—every single time.  So she sits and waits patiently with a Biblically defined "hope"—assurance that what is promised will come.

God expects no less of us.  But before we get too far along in this, let me say this.  "Patience" in the Bible is not about being quiet and never complaining.  James talks about "the patience of Job" in 5:11.  If you have read Job, you understand that he did not take things quietly.  No, patience in the Bible is about endurance, steadfastness, never giving up no matter how difficult things may get.  Job certainly did that.  God expects that of us as well, in all sorts of situations.

He expects us to wait when people have been evil to us.  Do not say, “I will repay evil”; wait for the LORD, and he will deliver you.  Prov 20:22.  Teach me your way, O LORD, and lead me on a level path because of my enemies.  ​Give me not up to the will of my adversaries; for false witnesses have risen against me, and they breathe out violence.  I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living!  ​Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD! Psa 27:11-14

He expects us to wait when the evil are prospering and we are suffering.  Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act.  ​He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday.  Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices!  Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil.  ​For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land.  In just a little while, the wicked will be no more…Psa 37:5-10

He expects us to wait even when the world is reviling his name.  How long, O God, is the foe to scoff? Is the enemy to revile your name forever?  Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand? Take it from the fold of your garment and destroy them!  Yet God my King is from of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth.  Ps 74:10-12

He expects us to wait in the midst of trials and persecutions.    When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne  They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer…  Rev 6: 9-11

And why do we wait patiently—without giving up on God no matter what happens in our lives?  Because of all the promises he has kept in the past.  Because of a land and a nation that came into existence after more than four centuries.  Because of a Messiah who finally came after thousands of years to fulfill that very first promise:  I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”  Gen3:15  Even because of the care he has promised and given us on an everyday basis.

And now we wait for one final promise:  For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God…1Thess4:16

And so we wait, even more eagerly than Chloe waits, I hope, with even more assurance that the promise will indeed be kept.  After all, God has been so much more faithful to me than I have been to him.
 
  For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, “Surely I will bless you and multiply you.” And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise. For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, o that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul…Heb 6:13-19
 
Dene Ward

The first publication of Fahrenheit 451 occurred on October 19, 1953.  In this picture of a dystopian society (one that is unpleasant and dehumanizing, according to one definition I found), books are banned.  All books.  Firemen do not put out fires—they start them, burning down houses and buildings that contain books.  The title comes, not from the burning point of paper, but from the auto-ignition point—the temperature at which paper will catch fire without being exposed to an external flame, and even that varies according to circumstances.  Still, it makes for a catchy title.
 
             One fireman gradually becomes disenchanted with his job.  He begins to see that his society is obsessed with frantic consumption and shallow entertainment.  If all books are subversive, why is it that the secret book readers he comes across are the only people who can carry on intelligent and profound conversations?  Eventually he flees his life and becomes part of a group that preserves books by memorizing them. 

              How many ways can we go with this?  Far too many for one short post, so let's just keep it to a couple of obvious ones. 

               First, I checked to see how many places ban the Bible.  The answer is complex because there are exceptions to the laws, but the Gideons, the group known for handing out free Bibles, says they are not allowed to operate in Afghanistan, Algeria, China, Comoros, Djibouti, Iran, Iraq, Libya, Maldives, Mauritania, Morocco, North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Tunisia, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Yemen.  In some of those places churches can order Bibles but not individuals.  In some they can be printed but only in certain languages.  In some places you can import but not publish.  So the answer is not short and easy.  Still, it proves that ready access to the Word of God should not be taken for granted.
 
             Let's take a moment to caution everyone about articles on Facebook.  Many people jump the gun before they read the fine print and assume things that are false.  Evidently that happened with a proposed bill in California.  Someone posted that the bill would ban the Bible.  From my research, that does not seem to be the case.  However, there have been instances where students in various parts of the country were told they could not read their Bibles at school.  In some cases, the outrage brought an apology, but the Devil starts small until he weasels his way into our culture.  Look at the things that are now accepted that at one time everyone disapproved of.  When I was a child, I heard someone on television say that one day it would be a crime in this country to read your Bibles, but it would be legal in Russia.  At the height of the Cold War that seemed preposterous.  Now I am not so sure.

              Let's also consider this:  if it were to suddenly become illegal to own and read a Bible, if "firemen" did make their living burning the Word of God, how much difference would it make in your life?  If you don't read it now, why should you even be upset about it?  Seems a little hypocritical to me.

              And if you were to run away to find a group of Bible readers who had memorized the Scriptures so they would not be lost forever, how much could you offer them?  Yes, I know memorization is more difficult as you grow older—I forget words I have known for decades.  But I know my address, my phone number, my passwords, my social security number, and the last four digits of three or four credit cards.  Don't you?  It all boils down to what is important to us, doesn't it?  I have no right to become outraged with the premise of Bradbury's novel as it relates to the Bible, when the Bible doesn't mean enough to me to read it, to know it, or to live it.

              One of these days, Fahrenheit 451 may indeed come to pass for Christians.  Let's make sure there are enough people around who still care.
 
And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts ,knowing this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture comes from someone's own interpretation. For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit. 2Pet 1:19-21
 
Dene Ward

On October 17, 1963 the Beatles recorded "I Want to Hold Your Hand," the first of their songs to catch on in America.  "Love Me Do" and "She Loves You" had already been released and, though hits in England, flopped in this country.  This one not only caught on, it became #1 on the charts.  It is still the best selling Beatles single in America. 

              It may have been a romantic gesture in the song, but holding hands means much more than that.  Every time we pray in our assembly of saints, two hands instantly reach for mine and hold them until the amens echo around the building.
 
             The hand on my right is my husband’s.  After spending over forty-five years together, it seems only natural.  We are always touching, patting, and hugging.  To walk past one another without some sort of physical contact is unthinkable.  What has made this relationship even more remarkable though, is the spiritual sharing and touching.  When two people pray for the same things, hope for the same things, and endure the same things with the help of the same Comforter, two people who were so unalike in the beginning that several people tried to talk us out of this marriage, the closeness can only be with the help of the Divine Creator who united us in far more than holy matrimony.

              The other hand belongs to a friend, someone I have known for several years now, who has supported me in every way imaginable, who has stood by me and has lifted my name up in prayer, who has shared her own trials with me and allowed me to help her as well, someone who lives nearly fifty miles from me, whom I would never have known except that we share the same Savior and the same hope and a place in the same spiritual family.

              Some people view holding hands in prayer as nothing more than an outward show of emotionalism.  To me those hands signify the unifying power of the grace of God.  That unity began with 12 men who would never have come together in any other way, and soon spread to add one more.  Some were urbane city dwellers who looked down on lowly Galileans.  Some were working class men while another was a highly educated Pharisee.  Some had Hebrew/Aramaic names while others’ names bore the influence of Hellenism.  One was a Zealot and another his political enemy, a tax collector.  Yet the Lord brought them all together in a unity that conquered the world.

              I have held black hands, brown hands and white hands.  I have held plump soft hands and rough calloused hands.  I have held the tender hands of the young and the withered hands of the old.  I have held the hands of lawyers and doctors and plumbers and farmers, teachers and nurses and secretaries and homemakers, hands that hammer nails and hands that type on computer keyboards, hands that cook and sew and even hands that carry a weapon on the job.  We all have this in common—our Lord saved us when none of us deserved it.  That is His unifying power. 

              The hand of God is the one that makes all of our hands worth holding.
 
May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. Romans 15:5-7
 
Dene Ward

Several years back we camped at Cloudland Canyon one autumn week, enjoying the new varieties of bird, the mountains carpeted with fall colors, and the spectacle every morning of clouds wafting through the campground from the cliffs just beyond it, cliffs high enough to look down on hawks as they soared by. 
 
             The neighbors twenty yards away were a small family, a man, his wife, and two little boys, the older about 7 or 8, and the younger just barely past the toddler years.  This was obviously a planned family outing, one that probably didn’t happen very often but that the parents were determined to make a good experience.  They did everything in a planned and almost regimented fashion.  “It’s time to light the fire.”  “Now it’s time to tell ghost stories.”  “Now it’s time to roast marshmallows.”  In between all this, the mother was on her cell phone every hour or so, sometimes for as long as a half hour, seeing to her business. 

              And both parents became impatient at the drop of a hat.  If the boys didn’t react to every activity as they thought they should, they became frustrated and almost angry.  (Who should be surprised if a ghost story terrified a four year old?)  They had mistaken the stereotype of a camping trip for the spontaneous fun of the real thing.  They had probably fallen for that “quality time” myth.

              And because we can’t seem to stop helping out, we offered them a few things, like some lighter wood to help get those campfires going more easily, and we occasionally stopped by on the way back and forth from the bathhouse, to talk and reminisce with them about the times when our two boys were that age.  They seemed appreciative, especially the father, who, we discovered when we got closer, was about 20 years older than the usual father of boys that age, and quite a few years older than the mother.

              As we talked we noticed that the older boy always wore Baylor tee shirts and sweat shirts and had a Baylor hat, so Keith talked to him some about football and asked how Baylor was doing.  The father sighed and said, “He doesn’t know anything about Baylor football.  He just likes the color green.”

              They left after just a weekend, and it sounded like they were leaving one night early, perhaps disappointed that this hadn’t turned out quite like they had expected. 

              You can learn a lot yourselves, just considering this family.  It’s always easier to judge from a distance.  But that little boy can teach us all something today.  Why is it that you assemble where you do?  Why did you choose that place?

              We would all understand the fallacy of going to the handiest place, regardless what they taught.  But how about this:  Do you go where you are needed, or to the place considered the most popular in the area, the most sociable, the one where you wouldn’t mind having people see you standing outside hobnobbing?  Do you go where the work is hard or where the singing is good?  Do you go where the preaching is entertaining or where the teaching is scriptural and plain?  Do you go expecting the church to do for you, or because you want to do for them?

              Too many Christians look upon a church in a proprietary way, as if they had the right to judge everything about it and everyone in it, especially the superficial things—the singing, the preaching, the way the people dress and their occupations and connections in the world.  The way some people choose congregations, they might as well go because they like the color green. 

              The church belongs to Christ, that’s what “church of Christ” means.  It belongs to God, that’s what “church of God” means.  Christ’s church is there to give me an outlet for my service and a source of encouragement toward doing that service.  It is not there to serve me and my preferences. 

              Someday that little boy will grow up and learn to examine the football programs he roots for, choosing them for their character and integrity instead of their colors.  Maybe it’s time we grew up with him.
 
Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 1 Pet 4:9-13     
 
Dene Ward

Oh give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever!  Psalm 107:1
 
              Have you ever had a friend who made you wonder how you would be greeted and treated on any particular day?  Have you ever had a boss who one minute nominated you for employee of the year and the next left you in fear of losing your job?  Have you yourself ever woke up one morning and bitten everyone’s head off just for being alive and daring to smile?
 
             Moody people are difficult to deal with.  You never know how to act.  You never know what to say and not to say.  In fact, you do your best to avoid people like that if at all possible.  And when you recognize that you have done it to others, you loathe yourself for it.  It isn’t right; it isn’t fair; it certainly isn’t kind.

              This brings me to the verse at the top, a promise we all too often read without thinking, as if it were a meaningless refrain.  “His steadfast love endures forever.”  It isn’t just that God will love us forever, though that is reason enough to praise Him.  That word “endure” also carries with it the idea that His love is consistent and will never waver.  You will never find God in a bad mood. 

              You don’t have to worry that one day He has a headache and might be a little short-tempered.  He won’t ever get up on the wrong side of bed and snap at you because you dared to talk to Him before He had His morning cup of coffee.  He won’t decide on a whim one morning to hand you a pink slip.  God’s love is consistent—nothing can cause it to vacillate as long as you serve Him with all your heart.

              If we truly want to be more like Him, we should love Him the same way—whether the day brings good or ill, whether we feel well or not, and even when we suffer.  It’s not like He didn’t suffer for us, and not only did His love not waver then, it is precisely because of His unwavering love for us that He suffered.

              And if we want to serve Him, maybe we should do our best to get past those bad moods we foist on others.  There is no excuse for pettiness, for mean-spiritedness, for spite and malice, no matter what we are going through at the time, certainly not because we just happen to be in a bad mood that day.  As servants, we don’t have the right to be in a bad mood--we must be in the mood to love and serve Him every day, which means, according to Matthew 25, loving and serving others that way. 

              Unwavering, eternal love—that’s what He gives, and that is what we should return. 
 
Love is patient and kind…it is not arrogant or rude. It is not irritable or resentful… 1 Cor 13:4-6.
 
Dene Ward