Flight Paths

My grandsons have “buddies,” their favorite stuffed animals/characters/items to sleep with.  For Silas it is a soft fabric Spiderman, a similarly made Mario (as in the video game), and his “blankie,” a receiving blanket that has been with him since he was an infant.  For Judah it’s Tiger (stuffed of course), Marshall (a stuffed Dalmatian he named after the Paw Patrol character), and his blankie, several times bigger than his brother’s.  They go with them everywhere.  On any sort of trip, you will see those buddies in the back seat.  Sometimes they are not in the arms of those little guys, but just their presence somewhere nearby has a calming effect.

Can they do without them?  Yes, they can.  They never take them into the meetinghouse, or into a restaurant, and especially not to school.  Their primary function is as bedtime buddies.  However, should they become frightened or upset, guess who they look for?  Guess what they ask for?  When the tears start, guess what Mommy and Daddy start scouring the house for?  Once they are found, the relief is instant.  No more crying.  No more fear.  No more worries about what lies ahead.  They have their buddies, and they are just fine.  They will even tolerate being left with a babysitter or taken two plus hours north to Grandma’s house for several days without Mom and Dad as long as those buddies are with them.

At the risk of sounding irreverent, isn’t that how God and our Lord should be to us?  Shouldn’t we recognize their presence every day, in fact, plead for their presence in our lives and be grateful for it?  When things go awry, as they will sooner or later in everyone’s life, shouldn’t they be the ones we look for?  And once we are assured of their presence, shouldn’t the relief be instant?  Isn’t that what faith is all about?

Hannah could not have children, it seemed, the great longing of every Hebrew woman.  In addition her rival wife “provoked her” constantly.  She was “in great bitterness” and “wept sorely” (1 Sam 1:10).  What did she do?  She went to God and prayed her heart out.  “I poured out my soul before Jehovah,” she told Samuel (v 15).  And what happened afterward?  “Her countenance was no longer sad (v 18).

What do you do when a crisis rears its ugly head?  What do you rely on?  Who do you count on?  What calms your fears and dispels your worries?  Hannah knew who her real Buddy was, and He calmed her as no one else could.  If your “buddies” are anyone or anything besides your Father and Older Brother and your Comforting Helper, you will be sorely disappointed in the results.  

Those little boys will go anywhere as long as they have their buddies.  We sing a song, “If Jesus goes with me, I’ll go—anywhere.”  Can you?
 
I know that the LORD will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and will execute justice for the needy. Surely the righteous shall give thanks to your name; the upright shall dwell in your presence, Ps 140:12-13.

Dene Ward

The first time this city girl had to deal with mice in the house was when we moved to rural Illinois and our house sat right next to a cornfield.  We discovered we had mice the morning I found that the dog had had a playmate all night, and it was lying right in the doorway to the kitchen, all “played” out.

            So we set out traps, especially in the large walk-in pantry/laundry area.  If anything would attract the mice we figured it would be the warmth from the water heater and the food on the shelves.

            The pantry shared a wall with the dining area.  One frigid morning we were eating breakfast when we suddenly heard a sharp snap, followed by a thump on that wall’s other side, then squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak, and a scrambling of tiny feet.  I didn’t think this was the way mousetraps were supposed to work, but what did I know?  Before that fall, I had never even seen one except on cartoons.

            Keith walked around, peered into the pantry, and started laughing.  When we had set the trap inside the door, we had pushed it in with the peanut butter side against the wall and the spring on the side toward the door.  Evidently the mouse had climbed onto the spring and when he started nibbling on the peanut butter, it had snapped, catapulting him into the wall.  Having survived the trap, he had run away unscathed except, perhaps, for a nasty bump on the head.

            That night we reset the trap, this time pushing it in the other way around.  Sure enough, as we were eating breakfast the next morning we heard the snap, followed by a deathly quiet.  Keith disposed of the interloper after we finished eating.

            That mouse thought he had found a way around the trap.  That dumb animal thought he was safe because one time he had had a nibble without it killing him.  If mice could think such things, I can just imagine, “It won’t happen to me,” coming out of his mouth, just like a few dumb humans I know of.  It isn’t enough to stay out of the trap—you have to stay completely away from it.  Thorns and snares are in the way of the perverse; He who keeps his soul shall be far from them, Prov 22:5.

            Job pictures the life of the wicked as nothing but snares, 18:8-10.  Jeremiah says they lay snares for the righteous, 5:26.  How do they do that?  By their very lifestyles.  We look, and we want, and we wish, and suddenly we do—just like they do.  God warned the Israelites not to even covet the gold and silver covering the idols, lest you be snared therein, Deut 7:25.  It is not enough to just want their lives and “not do the sins they do—I know better than that!”  How can we not eventually fall into the same things they did?  Because, like that mouse, we think we have found a way to nibble on one side and not be caught by the other.

            The Proverb writer says we are often ensnared “with the words of our own mouths,” 6:2.  We say we abhor sin, we say we don’t want to do bad things, but with the same mouth we idolize people who live without morals, without integrity, and without self-control, people who care nothing at all about God.  They may even wear crosses around their necks and thank the Lord in public, but they turn right around and profane Him with their lives.  And we think we wouldn’t be trapped by sin the same way they are?  How foolish, how immature can we be?

            Don’t glamorize sin.  Don’t worship those who do.  Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can sit on one side of the mousetrap and have a bite of something good, and a fun, and an exciting ride to boot.  The next time you nibble, someone may very well have turned the mousetrap around.
 
But my eyes are toward you, O GOD, my Lord; in you I seek refuge; leave me not defenseless!
Keep me from the trap that they have laid for me and from the snares of evildoers!  Psalm 141:8,9.
 
Dene Ward

I’m sitting in my camo-mesh lounge chair in front of a campfire, the flame whirling up in a mini-tornado, the smoke wafting down the hillside away from the tent site.  The sun peeks through the leaf canopy dappling the brown, red, orange, and yellow foliage-strewn ground just enough to moderate the cool air into [long] shirtsleeve weather.  Pieces of crystal blue sky show here and there, grayed occasionally by a patch of camp smoke.  The titmice nag at us from the saplings and bushes at the foot of tall pines, hickory, beeches, and red oak, while a woodpecker alternates his door-knock pecking and his manic laugh.

            The campsite could not have been laid out any better.  A long back-in approach left us plenty of room to unpack boxes, coolers, and suitcases, and still have room to stack firewood and set up tents on a perfect length tent site, something not always easy to find for a 16 x 10 tent.  The table fit nicely inside the screen and the fire ring is far enough from both the tents to avoid sparks.

            The park itself is beautiful, lakes, valleys, mountain tops to hike—no hike longer than three to four hours, some appreciably shorter.  The bathhouses are clean with plenty of hot water and strong sprays from large showerheads.  The campsites afford as much or as little privacy as one wants—take your pick.  It is quiet and peaceful, yet only ten minutes from grocery, gas, and pharmacy.

            We’ve been here six days now—perfect park, perfect campsite, perfect weather.  We haven’t even had our customary day of rain, nor even an overcast morning.  So this is not the trip to test our mettle as campers.  It’s all been way too perfect.  But you know what?  We won’t have many stories to tell from this trip.  Oh wait!  Our forty year old electric blanket did give out on us the first—the coldest—night.  And don’t you see?  That’s the story we’ll be telling—and that’s when we found out we were seasoned campers.  We shrugged our shoulders and snuggled a little closer together in the double sleeping bag.

            Peter tells us that God will test our mettle as His servants.  Wherein you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been put to grief in manifold trials, that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold that perishes though it is proved by fire, may be found unto praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ, 1 Pet 1:6-7.

            Too often, instead of passing the test, we use it as an excuse.  We say, “I know I didn’t do well, but after all, I was dealing with such difficult circumstances.”  Instead of growing and getting better and stronger, we blow up as usual and then apologize yet again.  If we were really improving, the apologies would become less frequent, and one day, perhaps, unnecessary.  That’s what God expects of us.

            He doesn’t look down and say, “Well, I know they can handle this trial.”  Why should He bother sending it?  Instead, the test comes and after we pass He looks down, as He did on Mt Moriah and says, “Now I know.”

            And it’s those tests that give us the experience to help others and the strength to endure more.  God never promised us perfect lives here on this sin-cursed world.  He did not promise you fame and fortune (no matter what Joel Osteen says).  He did not promise perfect health, perfect families, or even perfect brethren.  What He did promise is a perfect reward after we successfully navigate what amounts to, in the perspective of Eternity, a moment or two of imperfection.

            But only if you have the mettle.
 
When they had preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples, they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch, strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God, Acts 14:21-22.
 
Dene Ward

Keith and I teach a class called Preparation for Marriage and Parenting.  Below are a few comments we throw in during these classes that are not in the lesson book we compiled, but which probably ought to be.  For what they are worth…
 
            Headship is not about getting to do whatever you want to do.  It is about carefully considering the needs of the entire family and doing what is best for them, whether it is what you want to do or not.
            Any woman who has difficulties with subjection has difficulties with being a Christian.  Submission is what being a disciple of Christ is all about.
            A man who makes subjection difficult for his wife might as well get himself sized for a millstone.
            There are many different ways to handle problems in a marriage.  The first and most important thing you should do is make up your minds that you will make it through this.  Never keep a divorce lawyer on your speed dial.
            It doesn’t matter whether you understand women or not.  It doesn’t matter whether you understand men or not.  What matters is understanding that your spouse does not think like you do.
            If you ladies are going to use your hormones as an excuse for bad behavior, then you should allow your husband to use male hormones as an excuse for his.
            Marriage is a high maintenance relationship.  As soon as you start neglecting it, it will go downhill.
            Spouses who do not communicate well and on a regular basis will soon be total strangers.
            Letting her talk is useless if you don’t listen.
            Your children are not your own.  They are merely souls God has given into your care, and He expects them to be returned in good shape.
            You are teaching your children whether you intend to or not.  What textbook are you using?  Look in the mirror.
            Make no mistake about it—you are waging a war with your toddlers, which you should win before they reach school age.  Any time you “give in,” you have lost a battle and retaking that territory will take twice as long at twice the cost to your relationship with your child.
            Too many parents don’t train their children, their children train them.
            A father who won’t change dirty diapers probably won’t be much use to his children when the messes of life afflict them either.
            If you tell your child, “If you do that again, I am going to _________ you,” and then don’t ______them when they do it again, you have lied to your child.
            Don’t tell me that a child is too young to comprehend punishment before the age of 2.  My child is smarter than any puppy dog I ever saw.  So is yours.
            Raising kids is hard work.  Our society and its children are suffering from parents who were either too lazy or too selfish to do the job right.
 
            Gleaning in the field sometimes gives you choice produce that was simply overlooked.  Other times there is a reason it was left there.  So this morning choose from the list and take what is most helpful.
 
Except Jehovah build the house they labor in vain that build it…Lo, children are a heritage of Jehovah, and the fruit of the womb is his reward.  As arrows in the hand of a mighty man, so are the children of youth.  Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them; they shall not be put to shame when they speak with their enemies in the gate, Psalm 127:1, 3-5.
           
Dene Ward

Recently Keith’s sister came to visit and we took her to the Butterfly Rainforest at the Museum of Natural History at the University of Florida.  We have lived here since before the exhibit even opened and never managed to get there.  When we went in, we saw what we have been missing.

 In the first place you cannot go inside with anything that cannot be closed properly, which means I had to leave my purse behind—it has a snap across the top, but is not sealed with a zipper.  Then you enter one door and cannot open the second until the first door has closed.  When you leave, you go through the same process—through one door, wait, close the door, then through the second door—but with an added precaution:  you check each other over for hitchhikers.  The butterflies will land on you, especially, it seemed from our experience that day, if you have on bright colors or large floral prints.  They will also land on your bare head and arms.  You must walk the paths carefully so as not to trod upon one that has landed there.  You sit on benches only after inspecting them.  But mainly, you just look and look and look, up and over and around.  They are everywhere.

 The colors and patterns are breathtaking.  Scarlet and black, Halloween orange and black, an intricate black and white that looks for all the world like a tatted doily; olive and black, chartreuse and black, emerald green and aqua; pale blue, royal blue, teal and blue violet; solid brown, spotted brown, banded brown, and a brown design that looks like it belongs on the walls of ancient Aztec ruins—and that’s not the half of it.

Many of these beauties were brought from other places as pupae, and as they hatch are let go every day while the visitors watch.  It was a wonderful couple of hours.  And after I got home I started wondering if there were any butterflies in the Bible.  Well, yes, in a way.

First of all I found that back in the early days, the butterfly symbolized the resurrection of Jesus and later the resurrection of his saints.  That makes a certain amount of sense.  The caterpillar spins its pupa, which hangs there looking dead for a couple of weeks.  Then suddenly the adult emerges, alive again, or so it appears.

But it seems to me that the better Biblical image comes from Romans 12:2:    Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.  Just as the caterpillar is transformed into something completely different, we should be too.  I am, in the words of 2 Cor 5:17, “a new creature.”  Those butterflies were beautiful, but when we walked the exhibits in the halls outside their “rainforest,” the pupa on display there were mottled gray-brown and just plain ugly.

I looked up that word “transformed” and guess what the Greek word is?  Metamorphoo.  I would be surprised if you haven’t heard that in a sermon sometime in your life, but maybe you have never really thought about the change that insect makes from worm to butterfly.  Looking at those beautiful things that morning, and then seeing those ugly pupae hanging by the score really brought the message home to me.  I am not just to change a little bit; I am to change drastically.  That may be difficult for you to comprehend if you were “brought up in the church” as we are prone to say, and have never really done any “big bad sins” as we tend to define them.  Yet it is my obligation to find the things that need changing. 

I may not read pornography, but I might become insensitive to the sin around me, especially when our culture deems it “appropriate” for television.  I may not steal, but my selfishness can rob others of any time or service they might need from me.  I may not commit idolatry, but I can become so celebrity-conscious that what those people say, do and wear becomes my model instead of Christ.  I may not murder, but I commit character assassination every time I call, text, or post.

Those butterflies we saw that day were almost too pretty for this sin-sick, ugly world.  That’s what people should be thinking about us.  We are not like the world, and we don’t like the world.  There is a better place coming, a “Butterfly Rainforest” for all those who have transformed their lives to be like their Lord.  Don’t land on the coat of a passerby and allow yourself to be removed from that hope.
 
…put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and…be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and…put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness, Eph 4:22-24.
 
Dene Ward

We live in a rural county.  We have no garbage pickup.  Instead we have dumpsites at several places with recycling bins and a dumpster for household garbage.  We have to haul our own trash.  Ask yourself how much trash and garbage your family generates in a day.  How many garbage cans do you have outside and how many times can you empty the trash indoors before your outside can is full?  Now, how often would you like to drive several miles to dump your trash, and how many of those big trash cans will fit in your car?  You now know one reason most of the folks out here have a pickup truck!
            But this also explains the burn barrel.  We keep two receptacles in the house—one for wet garbage and one for burnable trash.  The more we can burn, the less often we have to cart garbage cans down the highway.  We put everything we possibly can in that box of trash—junk mail, out-of-date documents, bills, and receipts, cardboard boxes, empty plastic containers and lids, plastic bottles and bags, old rags, irreparable clothes—everything that will burn, or melt and then burn.  Don’t talk to me about recycling.  We recycle in several other ways, and this practice saves gas.
            But let me ask you this. Would you ever put anything important in a burn barrel?  Of course not.  Do you know what God thinks of this world?  He has his own burn barrel, and this world is what He plans to throw in it.
            We need to remember that.  Too often we become enamored of the very things God will ultimately destroy.  Some of our favorite things in life are sitting in God’s burn barrel.  Even when we think we have our priorities straight, we often do not.
            I remember telling my little boys that one day we would take a month long camping trip out west.  We would show them all those beautiful national parks they had only heard about.  They could look across the Grand Canyon, watch Old Faithful erupt, and stand in a place where the mountains rose peak after peak after peak with no signs of modern man—no power lines, no sounds of traffic, not even a tangled skein of contrail in the perfect blue sky--a place where a thousand years before some native had stood and enjoyed the same view.  It never happened.  We never had the money or the time.  They are grown now and can understand the pressures of life, making a living, paying the bills, meeting one’s responsibilities to others, but I have always felt bad about missing that trip.  We managed one or two other things while they were still at home, but never that one.
            But remember this, no matter how good a plan it was, how good the values we were trying to instill with an appreciation of God as the Creator of all that majestic beauty, God Himself doesn’t think that much of it.  It’s temporary.  He plans to destroy it all.  The things God meant for me to teach those boys were things I could teach any time, any place, no matter how much money we did or didn’t have. 
The Bible is full of people who did not have the right priorities—Esau for one, who sold a birthright for one meal.  The Hebrew writer calls him “profane” (Heb 12:16).  Paul talks about having a “mind of the spirit” rather than a “mind of the flesh” (Rom 8:4).  And why?  Because Jesus’ kingdom is “not of this world” (John 18:36).  It is “not meat and drink” (Rom 14:17).  So many things we allow ourselves to become upset about simply do not matter.  Traffic jams?  Noisy neighbors?  Pet peeves?  Even the trials of life—precisely because it is this life we are becoming distracted with.
            For many walk, of whom I told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is perdition, whose god is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things. For our citizenship is in heaven; whence also we wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, Phil 3:18-20.  Yes, Paul says that when I let things of this life upset me to the point of distraction that my “god is my belly.”  I am not supposed to be minding those earthly things.
            So today, think about God’s burn barrel.  He has a place for the things He plans to destroy, just like I do, one that gets too full too fast.  God’s burn barrel holds things like wealth, possessions, awards, careers, opinions, irritations, Jimmy Choo shoes, stock portfolios, time shares on the beach, cabins in the mountains, camping trips out west—even this earthly tabernacle that so many try to keep looking young.  They all go in the barrel at the end of the Day.  And God will light the fire Himself.
 
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed…Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set on fire and dissolved, and the heavenly bodies will melt as they burn! But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you are waiting for these, be diligent to be found by him without spot or blemish, and at peace, 2Pet 3:10-14.
 
Dene Ward

I do not understand the recent fascination with cupcakes.  To me a special cake is huge, having three layers, interesting ingredients that make it moist and flavorful, and a filling as well as a frosting.  Then I found a recipe for dark chocolate cupcakes with chocolate ganache filling, and a sour cream chocolate frosting.  Okay, I thought, maybe these cupcakes are worth eating.
            I spent two afternoons working on these things, two wasted afternoons as it turns out.  Something happened to my chocolate ganache filling, and I still don’t know what it was.  Maybe I stubbed my toe when I measured the heavy cream and got a half teaspoon too much.  Maybe I crossed my eyes when I weighed the chocolate and used half an ounce too little.  Whatever it was, it ruined the cupcakes.  The picture showed a cupcake cut in half with a rich, creamy filling clearly visible.  Mine had a hole in the center where the filling was supposed to have been.  True, your taste buds could tell something else had once been there, but it was not there any longer, and we couldn’t find it anywhere.  It had simply disappeared, leaving me with just another cupcake, and I was supremely disappointed.
            I wonder if God does not sometimes feel the same about us.  Yes, we must live in a world of sin and evil and hatred and all sorts of villainy.  But He expects us to stand untainted, obviously different than those around us.  Too often we just melt into the crowd.  Maybe you could tell we had once been there—maybe someone remembers a person who was a little different than everyone else, but if he can no longer be found, how long will that influence last? Someone who disappears so easily will not be remembered long.
            We are the sweet filling in the middle of a sinful world.  We should be plainly visible.  We should make the world a better place to live.  Everyone should be scrambling to get to the good stuff—us!  Our speech, our actions, our forgiving nature and calming influence, the fact that we actually stand for something and stand firm in it, rather than going along with the popular notions of right and wrong which change with the seasons—those things ought to make us easy to see, not easily camouflaged. 
            Make sure you stand out.  Make sure you don’t become part of an amalgamation that makes you just another face in the crowd, a hole where something special used to be.
 
So then, my beloved, even as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you both to will and to work, for his good pleasure.  Do all things without murmurings and questionings; that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you are seen as lights in the world, holding forth the word of life…Phil 2:12-16.
 
Dene Ward

Today’s post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
Movies and TV series have been made about Gregory “Pappy” Boyington, the WWII ace in the Pacific, think “Baa, Baa Black Sheep.” I read the book before it was popular. One thing that stuck in my mind is a vignette about teaching. He related that he happened to mention that as he was constantly rotating his head looking for enemy planes, he would shut one eye and hold up his thumb the right distance from his face to blot the sun so he could see planes that might be coming from that direction. [We all know that the Red Baron ambushes Snoopy from the concealment of the sun.] It was a revolutionary idea to the pilots he was teaching. He had almost not said it because it was so obvious to him that it seemed to be a waste of time. This little trick spread and saved many lives, but he thought of those who died because he did not think to say it sooner.

In my work, I implement this by spreading new policies or labor saving ideas that I have discovered. I find that some knew and had not bothered to tell anyone else. Why? Others did not know and are grateful for the advice, but never tell anyone else. Why?

Paul said, “I am debtor both to Greeks and barbarians, both to the wise and the foolish.” He had grace that belonged to others.  So do we. Saving grace. If we keep it, we have kept the property of another which is a crime under law.

One need not be a great personal worker or speaker. He just needs to feel the debt. To weep for all those who have already died because he did not think to speak the thing that might have saved them. Then, he needs to return that which is not his, that which belongs to them in the first place, the grace of God.
 
Keith Ward

When I was a child we did not have a lot.  We always had enough, and our home was comfortable and above all happy, but we learned early on that happiness was not a product of wealth.  We did not eat out except on very special occasions, maybe the whole family once every other year and my parents only on their anniversary.  We never had a kitchen cabinet full of junk food snacks.  We drank water between meals and simply waited for the dinner hour if we wanted more.  But none of us even came close to starving.
 
           So Christmas morning was not a feeding frenzy of ripping open package after package.  Instead, we did this.  We took turns opening gifts.  And if it was a gift from you, you would have been the one to hand it to the recipient.  Then we all waited as the gift was opened and properly admired and thank-yous offered.  Then it was someone else’s turn.  Once again we all waited and watched.  Then again.  And again.  Until the gifts were all opened.

            So what did that do?  For one thing it made the whole process last much longer.  By the time we finished, our neighbors were outside playing with the customary, “Is that all?” expressions on their faces, as something they had looked forward to so long had ended far too quickly.  Usually they had more than we did, but it took us twice as long to get our little bit unwrapped, so Christmas lasted much longer for us than for them.

            Second it took the focus off “me,” not only on that day but all through the year.  We learned to pay attention to the needs and desires of others.  We learned to listen to them instead of just preparing our own replies to what they were saying.  We learned to think creatively.  “Dad can’t hear well enough to hear the words to his favorite CD.  What can I do for him?”  Answer:  find the lyrics online, print them out and wrap them in an appropriate sized box.  You might not think it was a gift, but he did.

Which leads us to the most important benefit, it taught us to appreciate the effect of our giving on others. When the gift was opened, we sat, eagerly waiting, not another toy for ourselves, but for their reaction to our gift.  When we really hit the jackpot, when sometimes a tear or two fell at our thoughtfulness, it was the best feeling in the world.  It took away the “gimme,, gimme,” and taught us what the Lord said so long ago, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

            That is what gift swapping should be about, not the grand free-for-all it has become.  We heard someone describe their annual gift opening frenzy , a five or ten minute process wherein no one ever knew what anyone else had gotten nor others’ reactions to the gifts they had given, ending it with, “But how do you stop them?”

            Well, for one thing, you don’t stand there passing them out one after the other after the other as fast as you can.  For another, you talk with your children from the time they can even begin to understand, about doing for others, about how good it feels to make them smile, to know you have given them something they really want, that really means something, even if it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.  You teach them about “priceless” gifts.  Then you exert the parental control you ought to have and direct the process, reminding them when they are still young what the point is—giving, not getting.        

            Lucas said to me one time, “My favorite part of Christmas is seeing people’s reactions to the gifts I’ve chosen.”  That is what you are aiming at.  If we want to make generous Christians out of our children, it takes a little effort, but God expects us to turn them into servants who serve not spoiled ingrates who demand.  This is just one way to help that process along.
 
​​​​​​​A generous person will be enriched, ​​​​​​and the one who provides water for others will himself be satisfied, Prov 11:25.
Dene Ward

When I was very young we lived in Orlando, but for this story you must remove present day Orlando from your minds.  In 1960 Orlando was a one horse town no one had ever heard of.  “Where is that you’re from?”  people would always ask, and I even had to spell it for them.  There was little crime, certainly no gangs or wholesale violence.  Some people still left their doors unlocked, and I don’t remember ever locking the car.  It was too hot!  You left the windows down just so you could tolerate it when you got back in.  It was still the day when stores and restaurants advertised in a little sign on the door, “Air Conditioned,” with carefully drawn snow caps perched on each letter.
         
So you can more easily understand that when we went “downtown” to see the Christmas parade, because I could not see over the crowd my parents sent me to sit on the curb with several other children.  They could see me from several “rows” back throughout the whole parade, and trusted me to “meet them by the light pole” when it was over.
           
But when it was over and everyone stood and started milling around, the light pole disappeared.  I was four feet tall and all those big people were in the way.  After a couple of panicky moments my good sense kicked in.  We had parked on the north side of Highway 50 three or four blocks from the parade site.  It was a straight shot to the car.  So I set off walking, and in short order found the car and stood by it.

About fifteen minutes later my parents found me.  “I couldn’t see the pole,” I told them, “but I knew where the car was.”  Of course I had no idea how frantic they had been, but they were not angry, just glad I had found my way back to a place where they could find me as well, and managed to hide what must have been overwhelming relief. 

I have many friends who, though they have raised their children well, have since lost them to the world.  I know they beat themselves up regularly, wondering what they did wrong.  Maybe nothing--God did give us free will after all.  I can find many godly parents in the Bible who raised hellions, and many ungodly parents who somehow produced some of God’s most faithful people. 
If you find yourself in that position today, here is something to comfort your tortured soul—if you did your best, then you have given them what they need to find their way back.  They may be in a confusing place right now, a place where all they can see are hip pockets and belt buckles, and the light pole they need to see is hidden from them.  But if you gave them a straight course while they were still with you, then, when they finally give up trying to make sense of a complicated world on their own, they can follow that course back where it started and find their way to God again. 

What is the hardest part of all this?  The waiting.  In fact, you may not live to see their return, but now it’s time for you to have that faith you tried so hard to instill in them.  You showed them the path, and if they have the heart, they will find it.  There will still be a Father looking down the road, waiting to welcome them home, even if you are gone and cannot do it yourself.  Hang onto that hope, and don’t ever let it go.
 
I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants." And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate.  Luke 15:18-24.
 
Dene Ward