Flight Paths

Just as I was taught in my college pedagogy classes, I ran my music studio with a policy letter.  It explained what the students and parents could expect of me and what I expected of them.  It explained the payment schedule, and all the things they received for their money—far more than the minutes I spent parked on the bench next to their child.

            The letter also explained my “instant dismissal rules.”  The trick to instant dismissal rules is to have very few, but to enforce the few you do have without fail.  Suddenly you are being treated like a professional instead of the little old lady down the street who teaches a piano lesson or two to pass the time.  I was a professional, the professors told me, with 13 years of training—about as much as a doctor, so I did deserve to be treated that way.  I went over the letter at an interview before ever accepting a student—especially the instant dismissal rules--and the parents signed it and kept a copy.

            My instant dismissal rules?  If you miss seven lessons in the year, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  If you miss three consecutive lessons, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  Those two were as much for the student and his parents as they were for me.  If a child was missing that much, he wasn’t getting his parents’ money’s worth.  It also wasn’t fair to my two year waiting list to have to wait for a spot held by a child who was seldom there.  Since the applicants had come from that list themselves, they understood that point immediately.

            My last rule was this:  if you miss the Spring Program you are instantly dismissed.  Why?  I spent at least $200 a year on my annual program in recital hall rent, refreshments, paper goods, printing, and props.  Besides solos, we always had group numbers, and if one child missed, it wrecked a whole piece for several students, not just him.  And finally, this was my advertising; this was how I showed the parents that I was worth the money they were spending.  A wrecked Spring Program was a business disaster.

            In 35 years I think I invoked the instant dismissal rule only twice.  One student was ready to quit anyway, so she simply didn’t show up for the Spring Program.  She knew exactly what she was doing, and since I halfway expected it, I managed to keep the damage to a minimum.

            But another time, a young man who was doing very well didn’t show up and had not called ahead.  (Yes, if there was a legitimate emergency I was not a Hard-Hearted Hannah.)  No one else knew where he was either, and I had to scramble at the last minute to find an older, accomplished student who could pinch hit for him with no warning.

            The next morning I called his mother and told her he was dismissed and why.  Her reaction?  She was furious.  “We had company!” she exclaimed, and I then made mention of the policy letter she had signed, telling her that her company would have been more than welcome.  “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”

            Any time I tell that story, people are horrified at that mother’s attitude.  Her son’s piano lessons obviously meant nothing much to her.  Yet while we will shake our heads at that story, we often do the same thing to God.  Imagine the mother above had been talking about the Bible. “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”  I have a feeling some will try the same line on God at the end of the “term,” and will find out the God enforces his instant dismissal rules too. 

            My Spring Program was also an awards ceremony.  I managed to find enough things to award that any child who worked at it even a little could win something.  Only a few walked away with first or second place trophies from State Contest, yet anyone who came to every lesson, or met the make-ups I offered for excused absences, could win a perfect attendance ribbon.  If a student went away empty-handed it was because he didn’t try, and for no other reason.

            God is going to be handing out awards too, and you get the big one for simply following the rules in the policy letter and doing your best every moment.  Pull it out today.  He does expect you to read it.  He does expect you to remember it.  He doesn’t even mind if you bring your company with you.  But don’t expect Him to change the rules just for you.
 
He will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; but for those who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, there will be wrath and fury. Rom 2:6-8
 
Dene Ward

We don't do this in our culture.  The Native Americans did it.  Who has not heard the old country song about Running Bear and Little White Dove, or seen the movie "Dances with Wolves?"  No, generally speaking, we do not name our children based upon the English language.  In fact, there are few names in our culture that actually have a meaning in our language—names like Faith, Hope, Joy, April, or Tuesday.  But Bible names meant something in the language of the day.  If we translated Joshua, instead of just transliterating it, it would be "Jehovah saves" and that is what Mr. and Mrs. Nun were saying every time they called their little boy.

              I suppose most of us know that, but we still miss a lot when we don't stop to ponder the meaning of Bible names.  Take the story of Joseph in the book of Genesis.

              Too many people are so busy trying to make Joseph into the first coming of the Messiah that they won't let him be what he was:  a slightly spoiled, rich teenager who was probably scared to death when his brothers sold him.  Still though, I am sure he had hope.  He was, after all, a rich man's son.  And his favorite son at that.  "Surely Daddy will come get me," he must have thought, looking down the dusty road day after day as he literally slaved away.

              But even Joseph, after 13 years, gave up hope.  He had no idea his father thought he was dead.  So when Pharaoh rewards him with position, wealth, and a wife, at the birth of his first son, what does he name him?  "Manasseh."  So? You ask.  Manasseh means "to cause to forget."  "For God has made me forget…all my father's house" Gen 41:51   

             Joseph gave up on a family he thought had thrown him away. As second in the kingdom, he could easily have made the trip east to visit, but he never did.  When his brothers showed up, everything he did was to bring Benjamin, his only full brother and the only brother who did not sell him, down to Egypt to live with him.  He didn't know until he overheard the brothers talking that his father thought he was dead and that they were penitent of their horrible deed.  That is when he turned away from them and wept.  This is the human Joseph and you can understand exactly how he felt.

             But you can also learn this lesson.  He may have given up on his family, but he never gave up on God.  How easy would it have been to deny God because of all the hardship he endured, to enjoy the sin so extravagantly set before him by a promiscuous Egyptian woman, and to have curried favor among the pagans?  But he never gave up on God.  He never blamed God for his troubles.  Instead he continued serving to the best of his ability in whatever state he found himself. 

             Knowing the meaning of a name and allowing it to help you recognize a mindset can give you real encouragement, far more than ignoring the names and setting Joseph up on a pedestal from which he never had a negative thought or motive can.  These are real people God gave us as examples, not super-heroes.  They had real feelings and real motivations.  If Joseph can stay faithful, so can we.
 
The name of the second he called Ephraim, “For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.” (Gen 41:52)
 
Dene Ward

I had a beautiful flower garden last year—brick red gaillardia, their blooms lined with yellow-gold trumpet-shaped petals; pink, magenta, white, and burgundy cosmos fluttering on feathery spring green plumes: hardy, yellow gloriosa daisies shining like beacons among the leaves; yellow, orange, and rust colored marigolds perched on the bushiest plants I had ever seen in that flower; bright purple Mexican petunias who, though they shed their blooms every night, never failed to greet me with another show of dozens every morning; and zinnias sporting every color imaginable--white, yellow, salmon, cherry red, fire engine red, bright orange, purple, pink, lime green, and even variegated colors, growing as tall as five feet before the summer was out.

            Unfortunately, those zinnias began growing something besides blooms. It started at the bottom, with black-rimmed white spots on just a few lower leaves.  It spread from one plant to several in an area until finally it had touched every single plant.  Then it began its inexorable climb until only the top few leaves remained green, and only the newest blossoms, barely opened from the bud, were clean.  It took me awhile to realize what was happening, and by the time I figured it out, it was too late.

            Still, I didn’t want to pull the plants.  They did have a little green left at the top, and where there is life there is hope, right?  Finally after several mornings of looking out on what had once brought joy to my mornings and seeing instead a mass of black leaves and stems, I made a decision.  Why did I have these flowers anyway?   Because they were beautiful, and even I could see all that color from a distance.  Were they beautiful any longer?  No, they were about as ugly as they could be.  And the longer I waited, the further that fungus spread.  The gaillardia were already infected, and a few of the marigolds.

            So the next day I went out and began pulling.  It wasn’t even laborious.  Those plants were so sick that they came right up out of the ground, and do you know what I found underneath?  New seedlings growing from the deadheads I had been cutting all summer.  If I had left those ugly things much longer, the baby plants would have been choked out by the much larger roots and then infected as well.  Now they can breathe and grow, and the sunlight reaches their tiny leaves. I have already gotten out the copper spray, a fungicide that is even considered “organic,” not that I would care since my goal is to save those new flowers no matter what it takes, and they aren’t on the menu anyway.

            Still, it was hard to make that decision.  I have trouble even thinning the rows in the vegetable garden.  It goes against my nature to pull up a plant that is still alive, even if it does mean better production from the ones you leave, and far more food on my shelves to last the winter.

            Sometimes we have to make decisions like that with souls.  Give not that which is holy to the dogs, nor cast your pearls before swine, Matt 7:6.  Who wants to make that judgment call?  And whosover shall not receive you nor hear your words…shake the dust off your feet, 10:14.  It is difficult to give up on someone you have invested a lot of time in, someone you have come to care about.  But sometimes our refusal to do so is costing many more souls out there the chance to hear and accept the word while we waste time on the stubborn and rebellious.

            Sometimes that decision must be made among ourselves too.  A little leaven leavens the whole lump, Paul warned about immorality in 1 Cor 5:7, and then used exactly the same warning about false doctrine in Gal 5:9.  If you know anything about cooking, you know that leaven is alive.  It may not be a fungus, but it creeps in exactly the same way and spreads.  No matter how small a chunk of it you use, that dough will suddenly react, and there is no going back when it does.  Speaking of false teachers in 2 Tim 2:17, Paul says, “Their word eats as does a gangrene.”  When gangrene eats away the flesh, it’s gone.

            Yes, we have to make these tough decisions, but I have seen some people make it with a little too much zest.  God never enjoyed it.  I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, He said, Ezek 33:11.  God would have all men to be saved, Paul says, 1 Tim 2:4, and Peter reminds us that God is not willing that any should perish, 2 Pet 3:9.  He waited a long time before He finally punished His people, and even then it was with anguish:  How shall I give you up…how shall I cast you off…my heart recoils within me, my compassion grows warm and tender, Hos 11:8. 

            God never meant for this decision to be easy, but sometimes it has to be made.  It isn’t compassion not to make it—it’s cowardice.  My medical book says that fungus spreads worst among very young children and those who are already ill.  We must look underneath those infected branches to see the reason for our decision—to save many more before they too are infected with a fatal disease.  The souls who were sacrificed in the arenas by the Roman persecution are depicted as asking God, How long until you will judge and avenge our blood? Rev 6:10.  Desperate souls may be out there asking us, How long are you going to waste time on the unwilling, when we want it so badly?”
 
"Rejoice with him, O heavens; bow down to him, all gods, for he avenges the blood of his children and takes vengeance on his adversaries. He repays those who hate him and cleanses his people's land." Deuteronomy 32:43
 
Dene Ward

Question 4 on our lesson sheet for the second lament was "What is the focus of this lament?" 

              Almost in unison came the answer:  "The anger of God." 

             You couldn't miss it.  The poet uses three Hebrew nouns 7 times along with two verbal expressions for anger.  Then you have the list of things God did in His anger—and there was no quibbling about it:  God did them, not the Babylonians.  He "laid waste his booth," " laid in ruins his meetingplace," "spurned king and priest," "made Zion forget Sabbath," "scorned his altar," and "disowned his sanctuary."  He destroyed the very worship he had set up for his people and the people seemed to have no trouble recognizing that God had every right to do it.  They broke the Covenant.  It was all their fault.

              Today we all want to focus on the God of love.  I know it when I hear things like, "God wants me to be happy.  He would never be angry about such a little thing.  He would never _______________."

              First of all, what God wants is for us to be holy so we can spend an Eternity with him.  We cannot if we are anything less than pure because we couldn't—wouldn't—give up the pleasures of even the smallest of sins, and that means that sometime we won't be very "happy.".  "Sin separates you from God."  If, after all the blessings I have received from Him and after the huge sacrifice He made for me, I am so unspiritual that I cannot make a relatively insignificant sacrifice for Him in order to make myself acceptable, I deserve His anger and whatever punishment goes along with it.  Yes, He will too ____________, and even these stubborn, selfish, prideful, ungrateful, unmerciful, and unfaithful people of His eventually figured it out. 

              For us to picture God as a one-dimensional Being who only forgives and loves is nothing short of arrogant.  God as our Creator has every right to be angry with the created ones who break His laws.  When unbelievers blast God for that anger—"How could a just God allow these things to happen?"--don't think you have to apologize for Him.  He doesn't need us to explain it away in order to make Him more palatable to a shallow, ungodly, and disobedient world now any more than He did then.
 
The Lord has swallowed up without mercy all the habitations of Jacob; in his wrath he has broken down the strongholds of the daughter of Judah; he has brought down to the ground in dishonor the kingdom and its rulers. He has cut down in fierce anger all the might of Israel; he has withdrawn from them his right hand in the face of the enemy; he has burned like a flaming fire in Jacob, consuming all around. He has bent his bow like an enemy, with his right hand set like a foe; and he has killed all who were delightful in our eyes in the tent of the daughter of Zion; he has poured out his fury like fire. The Lord has become like an enemy; he has swallowed up Israel; he has swallowed up all its palaces; he has laid in ruins its strongholds, and he has multiplied in the daughter of Judah mourning and lamentation. (Lam 2:2-5)
             
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

God lifted Ezekiel and took him from Babylonian captivity to Jerusalem in a vision. In a divinely led tour of the temple, Ezekiel saw abomination after abomination in the very house of God. At each stop, God said, "Do you see this, you shall see greater abominations than these,” and led Ezekiel on to the next scene. At tour's end, God said, "Have you seen this, O son of man? Is it too light a thing for the house of Judah to commit the abominations that they commit here, that they should fill the land with violence and provoke me still further to anger? (Ezek 8:17, ESV2011).

Did you catch that? God considered the desecration of the temple to be a "light thing" in comparison to the things they were doing in the land. Instead of "light thing," we might say, "no big deal."

The "image of jealousy" in the court of the house of God is small? Seventy elders in the chambers that shared a wall with the temple itself worshiping all manner of idols and creatures is a thing to be dismissed? Women idolaters, men who turned their back on the house of God to worship the sun--these are small?

Maybe we need to re-evaluate the way we view our service. If a modern Ezekiel toured a church and saw instruments of worship, women preachers, open misuse of the Lord's Supper and worse, God might well say that these were light things in view of the violence done by his people to get ahead in life, to be dismissed in comparison with parent's neglect of children to pursue social standing, small things in relation to the indifference shown to the souls of the lost we never find time or a way to invite. Does our anger in rush hour traffic fill the land with violence? You can continue the list with your own observations of the daily failures to measure up to the correct worship we do on Sunday. [With Jesus we exhort, "These you ought to have done and not leave the others undone"].

God does not think like we do. We think if the public worship is by the book, then we are a sound church.

Ezekiel learned otherwise.

We still do not know God.
 
Keith Ward
 

Growing tomatoes can be easy, but if you must deal with poor soil instead of rich loam, it isn’t.  If you have bacteria-infected soil, it isn’t.  If blights, mildews, and fungi abound, it isn’t.  If the insects rise in swarms every time you bump a plant, it isn’t.  We have all of the above, so growing tomatoes here in our sub-tropical “paradise” is certainly not easy.

            Every year we have a handful of plants that grow to about a foot’s height, then stop.  Their leaves curl and they never set a bloom.  They remain green and don’t die outright, but they don’t grow and they don’t produce fruit.  We call them the “frizzled plants” because of the curled leaves and the stunted growth.  If we are not careful, our spiritual growth can be stunted in the same way.

            Listening and considering new ideas is imperative to spiritual growth, to improving our attitudes and characters.  Keith has actually come across a couple of people who have told him, “Even if you could show me in the Bible where I’m wrong, I wouldn’t change.  I’m comfortable where I am.”  A comfort zone is prime territory for stunted growth.  What do you do but sit there and watch their leaves curl?

            Others have a pride issue.  They can’t possibly be wrong about anything.  Hear the sarcasm in Job’s voice as he deals with his so-called friends: “No doubt you are the [only wise] people, and wisdom will die with you,” 12:2.  When people will not listen to anyone else, they will only grow as far as their own knowledge will reach, and then stop.

            Parents can stifle growth when they view differing opinions as disrespect.  Even parents who don’t mean to do so are used as an excuse not to listen.  “But my daddy said…”  Don’t you think Daddy had enough personal integrity to change his mind if someone showed him he was in error?

            Indifference can stunt your growth.  In fact, it is a wonder some people managed to germinate a seed at all, much less grow enough to look at least a little like a Christian.  Their apathy prevents them from getting any farther.

            Wealth can strangle you so that the seed never receives the nourishment it needs. They are those who hear the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches and the desires for other things enter in and choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. Mark 4:19.

            Immaturity, which Paul repeatedly calls carnality in 1 Corinthians, can stunt your growth.  When you are concerned about the wrong things and your perspective is distorted, when you can’t see beyond the instant gratification of things, status and the opinion of others, you will never comprehend the true necessities of spiritual life.  You certainly won’t grow in the grace and knowledge of the Lord.

            We need to look at ourselves and the things that matter most to us.  Examine your spiritual growth in the past year or two.  Can you see a difference, or are you still sitting in exactly the same place with curled leaves and no fruit on your limbs?  Are you stretching those limbs upward, or do they droop to the earth, where the only things that matter to you happen to be?

            What is getting in the way of your growth?  Don’t be a frizzled tomato plant.
 
The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the LORD; they flourish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, Psa 92:12-14.
 
Dene Ward

​            One of the things we said early on was to stay in the book you are studying!  The only time to compare the Gospels is when you are studying an event or phrase in particular.  Below is a good example.  Who were all those women who stood at the foot of the cross?
​
            Comparing the three verses below reveals a wealth of information about more than just who they were.  List them and then match them up and this is what you will find:

      You now see that Mary the wife of Cleopas, was the mother of the apostle James the Less.  By comparing Mark 3:18, we find that Cleopas was also called Alphaeus.  Luke 24:18 shows us that Cleopas was also a disciple of Jesus, or she was possibly married twice, but it was not at all uncommon for men to go by two names. 

      We learn that James and John’s mother was named Salome, and that she was Jesus’ aunt, his mother’s sister.  This helps explain why John was so special to him (probably the baby cousin), and why James and John, and their business partner Peter, were so often by his side when the others were not.  (But it leaves us wondering why Andrew, Peter’s brother, was not!) 

      It also shows that Aunt Salome wasn’t entirely out of line in expecting that her two sons, Jesus’ only blood relatives among the apostles, might be his first and second (lieutenants? Vice-presidents?) in the kingdom, and why Jesus gave the care of his mother to his youngest believing cousin.  And that points out that Jesus considered the spiritual connection more important than the physical because at that time he had at least four brothers who could have cared for their mother, but none of them yet believed.

            Try this one now:  Look up every list of the apostles you find, even partial lists.  Look up the meaning of names.  It is amazing that Matthew the publican and Simon the Zealot could tolerate one another, and that points to the unifying power of the gospel.  The apostles varied from blue collar fishermen to the more urbane Nathanael, who looked down on anyone from Galilee. 

            Almost all of them had two or even three names:

• Simon, Peter, Cephas
• Thomas, Didymus (“Twin,” which leaves you wondering where his brother was)
• Matthew, Levi
• Bartholomew, Nathanael (a presumption)
• Simon, Zelotes (more a description = Zealot)
• Thaddeus, Judas, Lebbaeus

            Some of those names were Aramaic, some Hebrew, some Greek (I’ll let you look that up yourself).  The Aramiac names were mostly translations from common Hebrew names.

• James = Jacob
• John = Jonah
• Simon = Simeon
• Judas = Judah
• Mary = Miriam (which explains why there were so many Marys.)
  

            It’s actually pretty amazing what you can learn about those men when you gather the meager facts together, a whole lot more than you think, like where they came from, who their parents were, etc.  I'll leave that one to you.
 
Dene Ward   

One of the prettiest views of our property is coming down the shady lane late in the afternoon as the western sun sets behind the tall pines.  The live oaks spread their arms over the house and carport and most of the yard, dripping with Spanish moss and providing an even deeper shade over the lush green grass.  It isn’t fancy by any means.  It isn’t the grandeur of mountains and valleys that dwarf the human spirit.  It isn’t the sculptured and manicured lawn of a great mansion.  But it’s homey and comfortable and inviting.
              All that moss is part of the charm.  We’ve had people try to tell us to remove it.  “It’s a parasite,” they tell us, a common misconception.  Actually, it’s a bromeliad, related to the pineapple.  According to the Sarasota County Forestry Division, Spanish moss, the beard of ancient live oaks, does not jeopardize the trees.  It does not steal nutrients.  It is an air plant that prefers to perch on horizontal limbs like those of live oaks, which provide more access to sunlight and water than vertical limbs.  It processes its food from the rainwater that runs off the leaves and limbs of the trees.  Nothing is stolen from the tree.  Just look around.  Moss even hangs from power lines and fences, and it seems to prefer dead trees to live ones.  So much for the myth that it’s a parasite.
              However, the moss can become so thick that it shades the leaves of the trees from the sunshine, the thing necessary for photosynthesis.  During the rainy season, thick moss can become so heavy that it breaks branches. 
              I think Spanish moss must be a little like worry.  Let’s dismiss the notion that any worry at all is a sin.  Paul talks about “the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches,” 2 Cor 11:28.  He may not use the word “worry,” but that is exactly what he is talking about—anxiety, care, concern, the “daily pressure.”  Sometimes that emotion is legitimate and we become petty when we start forbidding certain words while accepting the feelings as long as we call it something else.
              Yet worldly care and worry can rob us of our spirituality and our usefulness to God.  It can make us “unfruitful,” Mark 4:19.  It can “entangle” us in worldly pursuits, 2 Tim 2:4.  It can tell tales about our hearts with misplaced priorities, Luke 12:22,23, doubt, Luke 12:29, and lack of faith, Matt 6:30.  All of that can choke the word right out of us and when trials come, instead of trusting a God who loves us and provides our needs, we may break from the stress.
              If you have trouble with worry, camp awhile in Matthew 6.  Don’t you understand, Jesus asks, that life is more than food and clothing, v 25?  Don’t you know that God loves you even more than he loves the birds and the flowers, vv 26,30?  Are you so arrogant that you think your worry will fix anything, v 27?  Don’t you have more faith than the heathens, vv 30,32?  Jesus always has a way of laying it on the line, doesn’t he?
              While there may be legitimate concerns, things we pray about even in agony as Jesus did in Gethsemane, and there may be good things that occupy our minds, like our care for the spread of the gospel and the growth of the church and the spiritual progress of our children, don’t let the trivial things, the things of this life that you can’t do anything about anyway, become such a heavy burden that you break under its weight.  Rid yourself of the moss that robs you of the Light.  “Let not your hearts be troubled,” Jesus said, John 14:27.  He came to bring us peace instead.
 
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27
 
Dene Ward

As we said last time, the first lament is one of overwhelming sadness.  In a mere 22 verses, the writer uses tears, weep, cry, and mourn a total of five times; distress, affliction and misery a total of seven times; sigh and groan a total of four times, and no comfort and desolate a total of seven times.  That is more words describing grief than there are verses in the lament.

              The speaker is Jerusalem herself.  She is no longer a "princess" but a "widow."   She whose streets were once full of people, is now lonely.  Her friends have become her enemies.  Even her roads mourn because they are no longer traversed by happy families traveling to celebrate the Jewish festivals. 

              In verses 8 and 9 she recognizes her sin, but at this point seems more embarrassed at the disgrace than anything else.  The pagans have seen her nakedness so she "groans and turns her face away."  "The Lord is in the right," she says. "I have been very rebellious, BUT…"

              Look at poor little me.  God has been so hard on me.  Everyone is laughing at me.  No one will comfort me.  See my suffering.  Yes, she is suffering badly, far worse than any of us ever have, but something is missing, even in her confession of sin.  She has more to learn about the purpose of punishment and the correct way to view it. 

              However, the grief itself is not wrong.  God has made that plain throughout his Word.  Even righteous men are shown to grieve, Abraham, David, Hezekiah, and Paul among them.  Even Jesus cried.  Paul told the Roman brethren to "Weep with those who weep," not look down on them and rebuke them for crying.  The promise we have ultimately is that God will wipe away all the tears from our eyes—then, not now.

              But our grief is to be different.  "We sorrow not AS those who have no hope" (1 Thes 4:13), not "We sorrow not."  And if on occasion, our grief is caused by our own sin, as with these people, we have an even larger obligation in our grief.  Godly sorrow works repentance (2 Cor 7:10).  These people are still working on that.  Eventually they will get there, but not quite yet.

              God made us to grieve.  It is human nature to miss a loved one, to be frightened by a bad diagnosis, to be overwhelmed by a loss of physical things, and especially by a spiritual loss.  It is even correct to grieve in such a dramatic and lengthy way as these people did.  As sinful as they were, when you read these laments and see what they went through, you still feel compassion and pity for them.

              But as with everything God made, He made grief to serve a purpose.  It can bring repentance, it can bring strength, it can bring clarity, and help us learn priorities.  Use it, not as self-pity, but the way He intended. 
 
Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like streams in the Negeb! ​Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him. (Ps 126:4-6)

Dene Ward         

Is there anything more satisfying for a grandparent than being allowed to babysit for several days while Mom and Dad are out of town?  Absolutely not.  It may wear me out, but it's a good kind of tired, the very best in fact.

              Four year old Judah has a stuffed tiger he has lugged around since he could carry anything.  It started out about the same size as he was at birth, but seems to have suffered a little stuffing-porosis.  He is limper and his body parts seem a bit more disjointed, as if someone had hugged on him for years, mashing him into whatever odd posture it took for him to lie cheek to cheek with a loving little towhead.  He is still cute—a long head at least half the size of his body with a cartoon-dufus face and a big black nose.  His stripes these days are a little more pale yellow and gray than orange and black, but there is no mistaking what he is:  a four year old's favorite "buddy."

            Sometime this past year, the tiger got a name—Lucky.  Lucky makes it out of the bed every morning and though he is often cast aside as his small master plays during the day, he always makes it back to bed.  And for some reason, he makes it to the table too. 

           When we were there this past babysitting stint, as we joined hands to pray over our meal, Lucky, for the first time, had his paw held too.  Judah very carefully held on to one paw and laid Lucky out across the large table so his Granddad could grasp the other paw and complete the circle.  "Ah," I thought.  "Something in that little four year old mind has changed.

            If you pooh-pooh your child's favorite buddy, you are missing something important.  I may not be a child psychologist, but I did have my own imaginary friends when I was growing up, so I know a thing or two about this.  Those imaginary friends are anything but imaginary to your little one.  They are best friends.  They protect.  They comfort.  They listen.  They even talk.  Why, Lucky even played a hand of "Go Fish" while we were there.  This is your child's first close relationship with someone not family.  He is learning what it means to be a friend, to be loyal, and to love as friends love.  So when something becomes important to your child, he wants to share it with that special friend. 

            Because Judah sees us praying, because he sees his mom and dad pray, because he sees a room full of friendly faces praying every week, he has learned that praying is important.  What concept does he have of God at this age?  Probably the usual, "God made me-God loves me" impression that most toddlers who have been to church since they were born have.  That doesn't matter.  What does matter is that he wants to share his understanding with his special friend.  It is a normal part of his life, his little brain is thinking, so naturally Lucky would want to do this too.  If he can play Go Fish, certainly he can pray.

            "It's a normal part of his life."  That is important.  Your child should see you interacting with God on a daily basis--in prayer, in study, in family discussions, in decisions you make.  That is how you instill faith in him.  If he grows up seeing these things, more than likely, he will do them too.  And since he believes his little friend can do exactly what he can do, letting Lucky pray will validate in his little mind--even though he has no idea what those words mean--both his relationship with his friend Lucky and his relationship with God.  If you disregard Lucky, whom he can see, how in the world can you expect him to believe in a God he doesn't yet know how to see?  Letting Lucky pray will make God become as real to him as Lucky already has, and eventually, the only real one of the two. 

            And it may all start if you just reach your hand out and grasp a well-loved paw over the dinner table.
 
But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, (Ps 103:17)
 
Dene Ward