Flight Paths

Have you noticed this about the internet?  Everyone is in a hurry to spread bad news, almost as if a prize were given to the one who knows it first and has the most lurid detail.  Why is that, especially among Christians?  Shouldn’t a group created by Good News be far more likely to share that?  Yet the many who are quick to excuse their inability to talk to their neighbors about their salvation, have no such qualms about telling even their enemies about a tragedy.

            Psalm 22 should give us pause.  We tend to think of it as “the crucifixion psalm” and relegate it to Messianic prophecy alone.  However, most scholars believe that these psalms had an application in the day in which they were written also.  Therefore, Psalm 22, which is clearly Messianic in many ways, also applied to some time in David’s life. 

            It must be obvious that we do not know every detail of his life.  John said about the life of Jesus, Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. John 21:25.  Surely the same could be said for David, who lived far longer than the Lord on this earth.  He could easily have had a serious illness we are not told about, or a life-threatening injury.  As many enemies as this man of war had, this psalm could refer to some of them.  Whatever it was, this psalm tells us some dire straits David found himself in. 

            Note the structure of the psalm.  If you have a modern version, you will see the sections separated clearly.  The “I/me” sections, those about David and his lament, are alternated with the “thou/you” sections, those addressed to God.  The “I/me” sections gradually increase in length, first two verses, then three, then seven.  The “thou” sections gradually increase their urgency until the final one when David seems to scream, “Save me from the mouth of the lion!”

            The danger pictured in the psalm gradually increases.  “Many bulls encompass me.” “They open wide their mouths.” “Dogs encompass me…they pierced my hands and feet.” “Come quickly.  Save me from the mouth of the lion and the horns of the wild oxen.”  By this point, David feels the end is near one way or the other.

            Suddenly, in verse 22, the mood changes.  The poet uses less figurative language and calmer speech.  “Praise” becomes the repetitive word instead of “Deliver me, save me, rescue me.”  David begins to recount this desperate time only so he can tell others the good news—God delivered him.  “Praise him, glorify him, stand in awe of him,” he tells the assembled congregation, probably those whom he had invited to his thank offering feast.  The Law of Moses made provision for a man to offer a sacrifice when something wonderful had happened to him.  He was to invite his friends and neighbors and share not only the feast, but the good news of the blessings God had given him.  (Lev 7:15; Deut 12:15-18; Psa 40:9,10)  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have such a tradition today?  Especially in a day where all we want to share with others are the disasters, the complaints, and the bad news, to actually share good news and praise God for His blessings would be a welcome change.

            What are you sharing with your facebook friends today?  With your family and neighbors, your classmates, fellow workers, and even the cashiers and waitresses you see during the day?  Is bad news the only thing that exhilarates you, or do you excitedly tell others the good news—that a Savior loves them just as he loves you and has done so many wonderful things for you. 

            God had a people once who only reveled in the bad news, including ten men who came back from seeing a glorious Promised Land and with their evil report (bad news) “made the people complain” Num 14:36.  It did not take long for God to give them up to a wilderness in which they learned what bad news really was. 

            Think today, not only before you speak, but before you share. Let’s start a new tradition.  Let’s make a thank offering feast for our friends instead of a gripe-fest.  Share the good things in your life, so that someday you can more easily share the most important thing—your Lord.

The light of the eyes rejoices the heart, and good news refreshes the bones…Like cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country, Prov 15:30; 25:25.

Dene Ward

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            A few weeks ago I got out a pretty dress, put on my heels, found a pretty pair of sparkly, dangling earrings, and dabbed on some lipstick.  Keith and I went out to celebrate our anniversary.  He trimmed his beard, wore a coat and tie, and polished up his dress shoes.  Do you think either one of us for a moment thought that because we chose to dress up for each other on that evening that we didn’t love each other the other 364 days of the year?  If we had, we would not have been celebrating number 40.

            Our assemblies have gotten more casual in dress as the years have gone by.  I understand that dress has nothing to do with the heart.  Sometimes people clean up the outside when it’s the inside that matters.  I would never judge a person as being less than devoted to the Lord because he wore jeans to the assembly, or because he waited on the Lord’s table without a tie on.  I think most of us have gotten past such superficiality. 

            Recently, though, someone said in my hearing that we needed to realize that we serve God all the time, not just on Sundays and that dressing up on Sundays was a sign of being a “Sunday morning Christian.”  I certainly agree with the first part of that statement, but I think the second half goes too far.

            I still wear a dress to our Sunday morning assemblies because that is what I have done all my life.  I see nothing wrong with dressing up—it’s one of the few chances I get.  It does not mean I don’t love the Lord the rest of the week, any more than dressing up for an anniversary dinner means I don’t love my husband the rest of the year.

            Why is it wrong to judge a person who does not dress up, but perfectly fine to judge a person who does? 

            That is just a small example of a big problem we all have—one way or the other we often do exactly the same things we criticize others for doing.  We may be just as judgmental, just as tactless, just as inconsiderate as others.  We have just wrapped ourselves in such an aura of self-righteousness that we cannot see it in ourselves.  Our vision has been clouded by what we want to see, not what is really there.

            I have developed another eye problem—a growth that is fogging up the vision I still have, and which will gradually worsen unless it is removed.  Unfortunately, because of all the other conditions, the surgery to remove the growth is as dangerous to my vision as allowing the growth to continue on. 

            But there is no argument here: it is far more dangerous to our souls to allow that spiritual haze to grow unabated than to remove it.  Self-righteousness breeds true, and becomes more and more difficult to see in ourselves as the years go on. 

Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye, Matt 7:1-5.

Dene Ward

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I was reading the Q and A column in a cooking magazine based in Boston.  “You’re kidding,” I spoke aloud when a reader asked how to dispose of bacon grease without clogging her sink.  Dispose of bacon grease?  Keith was equally appalled, but on a whim he asked a friend, who is originally from New England, what he did with his bacon grease.

            “Why?’ he asked with a suspicious look on his face.  “What’s it good for?”

            What’s it good for?  I guess this is one of those cultural things.  Bacon grease to a Northerner must mean “garbage.”  Bacon grease to a Southerner means “gold.”

            My mother kept a coffee can of it in her refrigerator.  I do the same.  My grandmothers both kept a tin of it on their stoves.  They used it every day, just as their mothers had.  In the South bacon grease is the fat of choice.  In the old days only better-off farmers had cows and butter.  The poorer families had a pig, and they used every square inch of that animal.  Even the bones were put into a pot of beans and many times the few flecks of meat that fell off of them into the pot were all the meat they had for a week.  In a time when people needed fat in their diets (imagine that!), the lard was used as shortening in everything from biscuits to pie crust.  And the grease?  A big spoonful for seasoning every pot of peas, beans, and greens, more to fry okra, potatoes, and squash in, a few spoonfuls stirred into a pan of cornbread batter, and sometimes it was spread on bread in place of butter.

            I use it to shorten cornbread, flavor vegetables, and even to pop popcorn.  Forget that microwave stuff.  If you have never popped real popcorn in bacon grease, you haven’t lived.  I am more health-conscious than my predecessors—in fact, we don’t even eat that much bacon any more.  But when we do, I save the drippings, scraping every drop from the pan, and while most of the time I use a mere teaspoon of olive oil to sauté my squash from the summer garden, once a year we get it with dollop of bacon grease.  Any artery can stand once a year, right?

            As I said, it’s a cultural thing.  Things that are precious to Southerners may not be so to Northerners, and vice versa.  Don’t you think the same should be true with Christians?  What’s garbage to the world should be gold to Christians.

            One thing that comes to mind is the Word of God.  In a day when it is labeled a book of myths, when it is belittled and its integrity challenged, that Word should be precious to God’s people.  David wrote a psalm in which at least seven times he speaks of loving God’s word, Psalm 119.

            We often speak of “loving God” or “loving Jesus,” but you cannot do either without a love of the Word, a love shown in obedience.  Whoever does not love me does not keep my words, and the words that you hear are not mine, but the Father’s who sent me, John 14:24.  Jesus even defined family, the people you love more than anyone or anything else, as “those who hear my word and do it,” Luke 8:21.  Surely the ultimate love was shown by the martyrs depicted in Rev 6:9 who were slain “for the Word of God.”

            Do we love God’s Word that much?  Then why isn’t it in our hands several times a day?  Why aren’t we reading more than a quota chapter a day?  Why can’t we cite more than one or two proof-texts, memorized only to show our neighbors they are wrong? 

            Bacon grease may be gold to a Southern cook, but it is hardly in the same category.  Yet I think I may have heard Christians arguing more about when to use bacon grease than when to read the Bible.  Maybe we are showing the effects of a culture other than a Christian’s.

Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me. And he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him." John 14:21

Dene Ward

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We had another hawk nest this past spring, this one in the forty foot tall pine tree on the northeast corner.  We nearly missed it since we seldom go to that side of the property, but suddenly one day, we saw activity in a big ball of leaves, twigs, and moss, and, picking up the binoculars, realized that two baby hawks sat in the nest with wide open mouths, waiting for Mama and Daddy to bring dinner.

            We watched them awhile every day, and I spoke to them often enough that they began to recognize my voice and cried when I left.  Within a few weeks their white down was gone and they were almost, but not quite ready to fly.

            One afternoon I was sitting by the window when lightning struck so close I nearly came up out of the chair.  A storm soon followed, and I weathered it with a crossword puzzle and a magnifying glass. 

            After supper Keith and I went on our regular evening stroll around the place, stopping first by the pine to check on the babies, more like teenagers by then.  “Oh no,” he said, and after a few more steps I saw it too—a streak of white all the way down the pine.  It was the nest tree that had been struck.  He put the binoculars to his eyes and said he saw no movement in the nest at all.  Then, as he was making his way around the tree to try to catch it from all angles, he came upon them.  Both babies had been thrown from the nest to the ground.  One was dead, a mangled, broken mass of feathers.  The smaller of the two was standing about eight feet away, soaking wet and pitiful looking.  Mama perched on a branch across the fence watching.  There was no way she could carry a baby this big in her talons back to the nest to feed and tend.

            What to do?  First, we had to get it up off the ground before Magdi and Chloe saw it.  Keith picked up the scared baby, a double handful of feathers with a head as big as my fist.  It didn’t struggle at all, shell-shocked, I suppose, so we talked to it soothingly as we carried it to the back of the truck and put him inside the camper top.  Then, after batting around a few ideas, Keith found an old milk crate, filled it with leaves and moss, and climbed the oak tree nearest the pine that had low enough branches for him to get up into after the ladder steps ran out.  He nailed it as high as he could reach.

            Meanwhile I went looking for bird food, raw meat in this case, and the only thing I had that was not frozen solid was cubed steak I had bought on sale that morning—still, it was expensive bird food.  I put it in the microwave just long enough to get the chill off, but not to cook it.  When I dropped a small chunk in the truck by the bird, all he did was look at it for a few seconds.  Then his eyes turned to me and never left me, so I kept on talking to him to try to keep him calm. 

            Keith managed to get up the ladder with him somehow, as I stood on the bottom rung to keep it steady for his one-handed grip.  He set the big baby in the box and then tried hand-feeding it.  That did it!  The hawk knew it was food after that (and nearly had human finger as dessert), so we put more in the homemade nest.  We heard Mama again, as she flew back around the old pine, calling for her baby, so we left as quickly as possible.

            Now it was time to wait.  Would she find him and accept him and feed him again, or had we sealed his fate by handling him?  There was no way to know.  We had done our best to save him and the rest was up to him and his mother.

            The next morning, we stepped outside early and looked toward the tree.  Mama must have heard us, for she flew then, but we were overjoyed to see that she had flown from the make-shift nest in the oak tree where she had indeed found her baby.  Three days later he flew on his own.

            We wonder sometimes how much that bird understood what had happened to it   Why did it have to be his tree that was struck and his brother or sister who was killed?  Why did he wind up in a plastic box instead of his cozy, parent-built nest?  This is not the way it is supposed to be with hawks!

            And we wonder the same things when our life plans are suddenly altered through circumstances we had never even considered—accident, illness, career changes, death of a spouse at a young age.  This is not the way we had planned it, this is not what we had wanted for our lives. 

            I had a dear friend who lived here for several years.  This is not where she expected to be, but her husband was killed in a work-related accident, and her only child died suddenly and unexpectedly at a young age.  None of this was what she had planned, yet through it all she maintained a level of faith I have yet to reach, and an attitude I want to imitate for the rest of my life. 

            “I don’t understand why God put me here,” she once said.  

            “Charlotte,” I told her, “He put you here for me.”  I can name half a dozen others who feel the same way.  Every day, remembering her example helps me cope with the changes that have come my way in the past five years.

            Don’t ever think that because your plans went awry that you have been forsaken by God.  It could very well be that He put you where He did for a reason you may never truly understand, just like that hawk was undoubtedly mystified by what happened to him.  But you have the ability to accept your circumstances and make the most of them.  God puts you where He wants you for a reason, and giving up hope and ceasing to serve is not the solution.

            Trust God.  Keep serving your neighbors in any way you can, even if it is just to smile and set an example of endurance and peace.  Refuse to make excuses for yourself, as Satan would have you do.  So your plans were changed?  They should not have been that important to you anyway—Christians have far better plans for the future than anything anyone can think up in this life, in this place.  Believe it.

Out of my distress I called upon Jehovah: Jehovah answered me and set me in a large place.  Jehovah is on my side; I will not fear: What can man do unto me? Psalm 118:5,6.

Dene Ward

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            Recently Judah joined big brother Silas for his first overnight with grandma and granddad.  Like his big brother, as soon as his feet hit the cool green grass, he fell in love with going barefoot and ran all over the place.  Since he usually ran me into the ground, I decided that first morning that he could handle walking Chloe with me.  I would have to slow our pace for him, but I was sure his active little legs could handle the distance.

            The boys and I started out ahead and then I called Chloe to follow.  Usually she is out front waiting for me, prancing impatiently, but Chloe is not your average dog.  She is a bit of an oxymoron—a scaredy-cat of a dog.  She is positive that everything on two feet is out to get her.  She is not afraid of us, nor of Lucas, but no one else can get near her.  Not even, as it turns out, a twenty-month old toddler.

            But that didn’t keep the toddler from trying.  As soon as he saw Chloe, Judah left the path along the fence and headed through the field toward her.  As soon as Chloe saw Judah, she took off running.  He sped up and I held my breath as he plowed through vines, briars, blackberries and stinging nettles.  I took off after him, sure that his soft baby skin would be scratched, torn, and bloody.  He single-mindedly waded on through, leaving a trail of bent and broken greenery behind, until finally I caught up and scooped him into my arms.  With his mind still on his goal, he pointed toward Chloe and said, “Dog.  Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuhf!”

            I checked him over and he was fine, not a mark on him, no blood, no rashes, no stickers poking out of tender little fingers or toes.  So I put him down, this time on the garden path, and called Chloe to resume our walk--and it started all over again.  Judah chased, Chloe ran, and I followed.  This wasn’t going to work.   Finally I got the garden wagon, put Judah in it, and Chloe followed behind at what she deemed a safe distance--about thirty feet.  But every time Judah’s head swiveled to her and his little finger pointed, she veered from the path and dropped back another foot or two, until reassured that the dangerous little predator wouldn’t come swooping in and nab her unexpectedly.

            We had gone out that morning to walk Chloe.  Judah certainly didn’t have the goal in mind when we went for that walk.  That’s why he couldn’t stay on the path.  I realized not long afterward, though, that he did have a goal in mind.  It was just not the same goal as mine.  I wanted to walk the dog.  He wanted to experience the dog. 

            I think too many times we live our lives aimlessly.  We just let it happen, and then wonder why things went south.  We have no plan for improvement, no strategy for overcoming—we don’t even notice the temptation coming!  I found dozens of verses using the words aim, goal, and purpose.  I found others listing the things we should be looking for or to or toward.  Do you really think God has no purpose for you?

            I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me. Psa 57:2. 

            ​The LORD has made everything for its purpose, even the wicked for the day of trouble. Prov 16:4.

            If God has a purpose for the evil people in the world, then certainly He has one for His children.  So if He has a purpose for us, shouldn’t we be acting with purpose?  We are familiar with the concept of “purposing” our contributions, but why do you assemble where you do?  To be entertained?  Because this group is loving and makes me feel good?  Because I like the singing?  I know a lot of people who assemble with those goals in mind.  How about these instead:  I assemble here to serve others, even if they don’t serve me; I am here to learn and be admonished, even if they do step on my toes; I am here to participate in those acts we are to do as an “assembly” even if I don’t particularly care for the method used in getting that done.  Do you see?  When I have this sort of purpose, it stops being all about ME.

            Why do you work for a living?  Do you know the reason Paul gives?  “So you may have something to share with anyone in need.”  Eph 4:28.  Is that why you work?  I bet it’s not why your neighbor works.  And here we get to the point.  Judah and I did not share goals that morning, so we did not share paths either.  Are you sharing your neighbor’s path, or are you on a better one?  You ought to be.

            The world may look at how you live and shake its head.  There you go trudging through tall grass, sharp thorns, and clinging vines when the path they are taking is so much easier.  Paul had given up the goal of status among the Jewish leaders, along with potential wealth and fame.  “But whatever gain I had I counted as loss for the sake of Christ,” he said.  His goal in life had changed and so his path had as well.  I am sure his former colleagues and teachers looked with disbelief on the things he left behind and the causes he took up.  “But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Phil 3:7,13,14, just like that little toddler pressed on that morning.

            What is your goal?  You should have one every day, not just on Sundays, although that would be a good start for a lot of people.  Maybe the first thing you should do is look around and see who is on the same path you are.  That might give you pause to consider.

He exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose, Acts 11:23.

Dene Ward

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            Silas and I were visiting one of the rooms depicting the ten plagues during Vacation Bible School.  Number seven was hail with thunder and lightning and fire running along the ground, the robed narrator told us as he stood before drawn curtains.  The lights were dimmed, one of the curtains pulled open, and suddenly white hail fell from the sky, and glowing fire ran along the floor.  The children oohed and aahed and squealed with delight.  Then the curtain was drawn again, but not quite before the lights came up and I saw white ping-pong balls scattered all over the floor.  The narrator quickly continued the tale, moving onto the plague of locusts depicted behind the other curtain in the room.

            Several minutes later we left for the next stop on our “journey” and, as we did, I leaned over and whispered to four year old Silas, “Wow!  Did you see that hail?”

            “Yes,” he said, and then added, “Hail looks a lot like ping-pong balls, doesn’t it?”

            I wasn’t about to ruin the magic of the evening for him.  The point of the week was to learn that God was the only God and He protected His people, and the church was doing an admirable job of it.  Me?  I never would have even thought of using ping-pong balls. 

            But sometime in the future it will be time to teach Silas this lesson:  if someone tells you it’s hail, but it looks like ping-pong balls, check it out yourself!           Do you know how many people have been deceived by false teaching, even though the truth was plainly in front of them, just because they wouldn’t question their “pastor,” their “elder,” their “reverend,” or their “priest?”  Keith and I each have held studies where the student said, “Yes, I can see that, but that’s not what my _______ says.”  Before much longer, the studies stopped.  Why do we think our leaders are infallible?

            Look at Acts 6:7.  So the word of God continued to spread, and the number of disciples in Jerusalem continued to grow rapidly. Even a large number of priests became obedient to the faith.  The priests were teachers of the Jewish faith.  Yet even they could see when they were wrong and convert to the Truth.  Why not your leader, whatever it is you call him?  Instead, Keith was told one time, “How dare you argue with a priest!” 

            Paul was a man well-educated in Judaism, a man who lived “in all good conscience,” yet even he was convinced that he needed to change.  He was also a Pharisee, one who respected the Law and knew it inside out.  Many others Pharisees were also converted to Christianity (Acts 15:5).  Despite their advanced knowledge, they discovered they were wrong about something and had the honesty to change.

            God will hold you accountable for your decisions, for your beliefs, and for your actions.  Anyone who taught you error will also pay a price, but their mistake won’t save you.  Jesus said, If the blind guide the blind, both shall fall into a pit, Matt 15:14.

            Don’t believe everything you hear.  If it looks like ping-pong balls instead of hail, check it out yourself.  Don’t fall for a lie because of who told you that lie.  Doing so means you love that person more than you love God and His Truth. 

With all deceit of unrighteousness for them that perish; because they received not the love of the truth, that they might be saved. And for this cause God sends them a working of error, that they should believe a lie: that they all might be judged who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness. 2 Thes 2:10-12.

Dene Ward

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            The car hummed along the highway as we carried our two grandsons to our home while mommy and daddy were away for a few days.  They slept away most of the two plus hour long trip, waking in time to see the unfamiliar countryside sweep past on the last road “over the river and through the woods to grandma’s house.”

            They played the rest of the afternoon away, digging in the sand, chasing bubbles, and swinging on the old oak tree (the same one Daddy fell out of and broke his arm).  Dinner came only after a bath for those two dirty-faced, dirty-footed little fellows, a tub full of bubbles and cups and pitchers to pour over each other.  After their favorite mac and cheese, chicken nuggets and applesauce, it wasn’t long until their eyes were drooping and they were ready for bed.  “The tired-er the better,” we thought, especially for that first night. 

            They fell asleep quickly, twenty-month-old Judah in the “Pack and Play” and four year-old Silas by his own choice next to his little brother on the twin-sized airbed.  We listened through the rest of the evening, but never heard a peep. 

            However, at 4:52 a.m. I sensed something by my bed and woke to a small figure standing there in the starlight filtering through the curtains.  Dark in the country is not like dark in the city.  We have no streetlights—unless you live entirely too close to an uprooted city slicker who thinks he needs one, and we don’t.  We have no concrete to reflect the moonlight either.  When it’s dark, it’s dark, and if you are not used to navigating by God’s natural night lights, you think you woke up in a tomb.

            “Silas,” I whispered, “what’s wrong?”

            “All this dark is keeping me awake,” he said quite seriously, and even though I was sleepily thinking, “All this dark is supposed to keep you asleep!” I knew exactly what he meant.  Even though we had left a nightlight right by his bedroom door, it was far darker than he was used to, and when he woke it troubled him.

            By then Granddad had wakened as well, and he took him back to bed and lay with him until he was once again snoring his soft little boy snores, not much more than five minutes afterward.  He slept another three hours with no problem at all.

            I thought sometime later that week that this little boy had it right.  The dark should be keeping us awake.

            Even the Old Testament faithful understood the concept of walking in the light.  O house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light of Jehovah, 
Isa 2:5.  It seemed natural, then, for the Son to claim to be the light as well.  I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life, John 8:12.  And so, as children of God, we, too, are lights.  For you are all children of light, children of the day.  We are not of night or of darkness, 1 Thes 5:5.

            Unfortunately, the light has come into the world and the people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil, John 3:19.  As “children of light” we should be opposite the world.  We should not love the darkness; we should hate it. 

            This will come more naturally if we mature to the point that we don’t just walk in the light and not walk in the darkness.  Look at Eph 5:8:  for at one time you were darkness, but now are light in the Lord.  Do you see that?  Light isn’t just something you walk in, it is something you become.  Just as at one time you didn’t just walk in the darkness, you were darkness.  We have completely changed our essence.  No wonder we are supposed to hate the dark.  No wonder the mere presence of it in the world, among our neighbors, our friends and even our family, should be keeping us awake at night.

            All this dark is keeping me awake Lord, should be a lament on every Christian’s tongue.  Not only that, we should be actively trying to rid the world of that very darkness.  Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, Yes, rather, reprove them, Eph 5:11. 

            If the darkness in the world isn’t enough to keep a “child of light” awake, perhaps he has become something else.

Arise, shine; for your light is come, and the glory of Jehovah is risen upon you. For, behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the peoples; but Jehovah will arise upon you, and his glory shall be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising. Isa 60:1-3.

Dene Ward

           Silas has started talking.  Sometimes I know what he is saying and sometimes I don’t.  For some reason he says, “Bear,” over and over and over.  He and another toddler at church carry on quite a conversation across the aisle with just that one word.  But there is no question at all what he means when he looks across the room, spies Brooke, then smiles, holds out both arms and says, “Mamamamamamama,” as he toddles across the floor.  No, he is not saying, “Mama.”  He is saying, “There is the most important person in the world.”  Then he looks at Nathan, points to the ceiling and says, “Up!”  No, that doesn’t mean, “Pick me up.”  It means, “Throw me up in the air as high as you can,” something he loves for his daddy to do.

          Mothers can decode better than anyone.  When Lucas was eleven months old, he had already been walking five or six weeks.  He often padded to the refrigerator, hung on to the door, and said, “Dee.”  That meant, “I want a drink, please.”  Nathan, at thirteen months, would hold out his biscuit half and say, “Buuuuh.”  (Pronounce that like the word “burr” but without the “r,” and draw the “u” out as long as possible.)  That meant, “Please put more butter on my biscuit so I can lick it off again.”  Needless to say, he only got a little dab of butter at a time.

            Marriages have special codes too.  “Are you wearing that?” could mean a lot of different things, depending upon the marriage.  In some it means, “I don’t like that outfit.”  In ours it means, “Oh, so I guess I can’t wear my blue jeans, huh?”  Relationships may be about communication, but that does not mean they are about hearing; they are about knowing what the words you hear mean.  Sometimes people decide they mean what they want them to mean instead of what they really do mean, and that can lead to all sorts of problems.

            Jesus is a specialist in decoding our words.  “He who searches the reins and the hearts” (Rev 2:23) can figure it out, no matter how awkwardly we phrase things.  We don’t have to worry about being eloquent in our prayers, about saying something that might be misunderstood or taken the wrong way.  People may do that, but our Lord never will.  He partook of humanity so he would understand the stresses we undergo and the turmoil they create in our minds.  He knows that things sometimes come out wrong, not because we are selfish or mean, but because we are anxious and distressed.  Isn’t that when we find ourselves talking to Him the most?

            Make a relationship with Him that will calm your worries.  Know that He is listening to your heart, not the inept words you sometimes utter.  Don’t worry about eloquence, just talk.  Let your prayers be a comfort to you today, not another source of worry.  That’s how a real relationship works.

 Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God who justifies, who is he who condemns?  It is Christ Jesus who died, yes rather, who was raised from the dead, who is at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us…For there is one God, one mediator between God and man, himself man, Christ Jesus, Rom 8:33,34; 1 Tim 2:5.

Dene Ward

Funny how you can think you are so prepared and then find out otherwise. 

            We were going to pack our bag that week, three weeks early, “just in case.”  But at 7:30 pm, August 10, 2009, Nathan called to tell us we needed to have it packed “Now!”  Our grandson had decided to make his arrival nearly four weeks early.  So we threw things into a bag and ran out the door, dishes sitting unwashed in the sink, bills left unpaid, the baby gift still “in transit,” though I had ordered it in plenty of time for a delivery I expected to be four weeks away.  I even had to grab dirty clothes out of the hamper to wash when I got there so I would have enough to wear the week I stayed.  So much for thinking we were prepared.  Silas Andrew Ward, who made his debut early on August 11, showed us we were not.

            We all prepare for things every day.  That’s why we plan meals and make grocery lists, shop the back-to-school sales, and have retirement plans.  So why do we so often fail to prepare the most important things, our souls? 

            I find myself wondering if, despite our protestations otherwise, we don’t truly believe. When we are young, we don’t really believe we will die, at least not any time soon.  There is plenty of time to prepare.  The death of a young friend may shake us for awhile, but how long does that last?  Let me tell you, when you finally get to that age you never imagined yourself being, you will understand exactly how short your life is and how blessed you are to still have a chance to prepare. And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, Heb 9:27.

            Maybe we don’t really believe in the reward.  I think that may be a bigger problem than not believing in the punishment.  We think the biggest pleasures we will ever have are here and now, and that is solely because we only have the here and now to judge by and Satan banks on that, reinforcing the notion every chance he gets with our culture, the media, and the people around us.  If we really believed that the reward is far better than anything we could possibly enjoy here, we would try even harder to prepare ourselves for it.  And without faith it is impossible to be well-pleasing to Him; for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who seek after Him, Heb 11:6.

            The thing about preparation is you never know when you will need it.  You wear the seat belt just in case.  If you knew you were going to be in an accident, wouldn’t you go another way, or simply stay put?  Likewise, we never know when God will call us home.  You cannot make a reservation for a specific date, then confirm it with a call 24 hours ahead.  You simply prepare for something you know will happen some time in the future, and never underestimate how soon that may be.  Isn’t it foolish not to be ready?

Take heed, watch and pray: for you know not when the time is. It is as when a man, sojourning in another country, having left his house, and given authority to his servants, to each one his work, commanded also the porter to watch. Watch therefore: for you know not when the lord of the house comes, whether at even, or at midnight, or at cockcrowing, or in the morning; lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you, I say unto all, Watch.  Mark 13:33-37.

 

Dene Ward

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