Flight Paths

It happens every time Keith and I walk the property.  Suddenly I find myself pushed into the rough while he walks the path.  I learned a long time ago to just push back and he immediately realizes what he is doing.

            Keith was raised in the Ozarks, born in a farmhouse in the back country, down a rocky lane and across from a cow field lined with wild blackberries, a steep hill rising straight from the back porch.  As a boy he walked the woods, his feet naturally finding the easy way among all the stones, limbs, and golf ball sized black walnut hulls and acorns as he gazed upward into the trees.  If he doesn’t actively think about what he is doing, his feet still do that from long ingrained habit.  He’s always embarrassed and aggravated with himself when he realizes what he’s done to me, and he appreciates the nudges when I find myself knee high in briars. 

            Life is a little like that.  Most of us live everyday muddling through as best we can, oblivious to anything but our own cares, our own needs, trying to make things run as smoothly as possible.  What makes “a bad day” for us?  When things don’t go smoothly—a malfunctioning coffee pot, a stubborn zipper, a flat tire on the way to work, a traffic jam that makes us late when we had left in plenty of time, a spouse or toddler who had the ill grace to wake up in as foul a temper as we did. 

            It takes active thought to control your selfish impulses and consider others.  It takes effort to accomplish the difficult—self-control, self-improvement, compassion for people who, like us, don’t deserve it.  But that’s exactly what our Lord expects of us.  This is exactly the example he left us.

            Even under a weight of responsibility none of us can imagine, he gave his disciples his careful attention and encouragement.  Even in tension-filled situations he showed compassion to both the sick and the sinner.  Even in tremendous pain and weakness, he remembered his mother and forgave the pawns of a murderous mob.

            If Jesus had looked for the smooth way, none of us would ever have hope of one.  But if all we look for now is the smooth way, we may as well enjoy it while we can.  It’s the only smooth way we will ever have.

Enter in by the narrow gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leads to destruction, and many are they that enter in thereby. For narrow is the gate, and straitened the way, that leads unto life, and few are they that find it. Matt 7:13,14.

Dene Ward

For hints, help, and instructions on using this blog, click on the FAQ/Tutorial page on the left sidebar.)

Surely I am not the only one who has done this.

            You find out that you have company coming in about an hour and the house is a wreck.  You were tired, so you left the coffee and dessert dishes in the sink instead of whipping up another sink full of suds at 10 pm the night before, and have only added to them with the breakfast dishes.  You did the laundry yesterday, but there were so many errands to run, they are sitting in the basket or hanging from hangers on every doorknob available so the wrinkles will fall out.  The garden is coming in so you have left the weekly tub scrubbing, vacuuming, and dusting until some day soon when you are no longer standing in a hot, steamy kitchen for ten hours a day, and the canning supplies litter the kitchen counters, floors, and even the family room sofa.  And did anyone make his bed this morning?  If they are all male, probably not!

            So what do you do?  I usually grab another laundry basket and rush through the house throwing everything that is out of place in it, then put it on the guest room bed and shut the door.  Spray some bleach solution (that I always have mixed and ready to use) into the showers, as much for the clean smell as anything else, and pull the shower curtains shut.  Run a cloth over everything big and obvious (like the grand piano in the living room), and hope no one over six feet tall stands by the top shelves and the refrigerator.  Light every good smelling candle in the house and hope that’s enough to cover any other “not quite clean” house smell. Run a sink full of soapy water and at least pile everything into it.  With canning jars sitting around cooling, it will look like you’ve been hard at work (and you really have), and are in the midst of cleaning it up.  At least you will get points for that! 

             I have probably fooled a lot of people that way, or else they were just polite.  But when it comes to spiritual house cleaning, just getting the outside isn’t enough.  Oh, we might fool some people who don’t really know us very well, but Jesus says By their fruits you shall know them, Matt 7:16, so eventually we will give ourselves away if our righteousness is only cosmetic.  Just imagine how much God knows--everything!  The eyes of Jehovah are in every place, keeping watch upon the evil and the good, Prov 15:3.

            Cleaning the outside is not good enough for Jehovah.  It only counts when we clean up our hearts.  Then, funny thing, the outside takes care of itself.

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within are full of extortion and excess.  You blind Pharisees, first clean the inside of the cup and of the platter, that the outside may become clean also.  Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you are like whitewashed sepulchers, which outwardly appear beautiful, but inwardly are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness.  Even so you also outwardly appear righteous unto men, but inwardly are full of hypocrisy and iniquity, Matt 23:25-28.

Dene Ward

For hints, help, and instructions on using this blog, click on the FAQ/Tutorial page on the left sidebar.)

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

When we say God is awesome, we usually think of the power, might, intellect and wisdom behind the creation.  For example, did you know that there are stars out there as much bigger than the sun as the sun is bigger than the Earth?  And yet all the information needed to grow a complete person -- from hair color to height to intelligence to some personality traits -- are encoded on molecules so small that they can't be seen without powerful microscopes.  From the intricate ways that ecosystems work to the hugeness of our galaxy (which is only one of many), we see the true greatness of the God who could just speak these things into existence. 

And yet this creative power/genius might be one of the smaller attributes of our great God.  Search the English Standard Version for "steadfast love". 193 verses use that phrase throughout the Bible and most if not all of them refer to God's love for his people--his steadfast, or patient, love for his continually failing people. Think about that for a second:  He creates mankind, gives us all blessings and watches as they are thrown away through the overreaching of man.  He watches as his creations begin to deny his existence, as they give the worship owed to him to other creatures or to made up fancies.  He watches as his creations revile him, purposefully rebel against him and purposefully cover themselves in filth.  And He still loved us.  He was still willing to sacrifice his son to save us even after watching even the most blessed of his creation (Israelites) choose sin rather than him.  It’s not just that we were enemies to God.  We were his own creatures, created specifically to serve him, who chose to turn away and become enemies. And he still loved us.

Imagine that a robotics engineer built a small robot to do basic housework. Instead of cleaning the house, the robot overrode its programming and purposefully dirtied the house.  Whenever the engineer tried to correct the problem, the robot actively tried to injure the engineer.  How would most people respond to that?  We'd turn off the robot and junk the whole thing, right?  But God didn't react that way when his creations turned against him.  God is a God of love, whose steadfast love endures forever.  His ability to love is as much beyond us as his ability to create is beyond us.

Our God is an Awesome God.

Lucas Ward
pleonast.com/users/iamyourfather

For hints, help, and instructions on using this blog, click on the FAQ/Tutorial page on the left sidebar.)

Sitting next to a window by a bird feeder can give you a feeling of omniscience.

            The first time I added stale biscuits to the birdseed, Magdi smelled them and wormed her way through the azaleas.  I noticed because of the scuffling against the side of the house.  I watched as she stood on her hind legs, trying to reach the biscuits.  She never knew I was there until I growled, “Nnnnnnnnno!” with a prolonged and ever increasing “n” sound.  The poor thing tucked her tail and ran so fast the azaleas shook for a full five minutes.

            Then there is the squirrel.  He has always approached from the east side of the feeder, and unless I am right there can sneak up and eat as much as a foot long line of seed before I catch him.  A thump on the wall sends him scampering away.  The first time I caught him he tried again a few minutes later, so I hit the window right next to him.  I think his leap missed the azaleas entirely as he fled the scene. 

            One morning he thought he had this Unseen Force fooled.  After I thumped the wall, he retreated down the leg of the feeder only a few inches.  How did I know?  Because his tail stood straight up next to it, a good six inches above the edge.  I let him think he had the advantage for a minute or so, and when he had barely crept onto the board again, gave the wall an extra hard thump.  No more squirrel for a week after that.

            The other morning, he came up with a new tack.  I was sitting in my chair when suddenly I saw two little paws appear over the outside edge of the feeder, but on the west end.  A moment later a furry head came up over the edge in a squirrelly pull-up.  This time I had some help.  The cardinals in the azaleas all swooped down on him at the exact moment I chose to tap the window in front of him.  He fell back into the azaleas with all fours spread, his eyes wide, and what I am sure was an amazing squirrel scream, frantically twisted and turned in mid-air like a cartoon character spinning his wheels, and finally hit the ground running. 

            Was that the end of this interloper?  No, he keeps trying.  Like a baby who covers his face with his blanket and thinks he is hidden, the squirrel still has hope that one day he will be able to dine to his heart’s content and no one will see.

            He is just like us.  No matter how many times we talk about the “omniscience” and “omnipresence” of God, we still think we can hide from him.  Why else do we keep doing what we do?  We are no better than Adam and Eve hiding after their disobedience, though every Bible class I have been in scoffs openly at them when the subject arises.

            We quote the Lord is at hand, Phil 4:5, and then behave as if we don’t really believe it.  Do we not realize what that means?  The Lord is within arm’s length, always—that’s what it means.  He is standing next to us at the kitchen counter, sitting across the office desk from us, standing in the line at the grocery store with us, or sitting in the front seat of the car beside us.  He sees what we do, hears what we say, knows what we feel and think.  If we really believed it, wouldn’t it make a difference?  We are sometimes no better than a dumb animal that thinks it can eventually find a way to hide if it just keeps trying, and just like a small child playing peek-a-boo, whose limited perspective keeps him from realizing what others can see. 

            Remember today who is at your side.  It isn’t a threat; it’s an asset, a blessing that will help us be who and what we really want to be.

The eyes of Jehovah are in every place, keeping watch upon the evil and the good, Prov 15:3.


For hints, help, and instructions on using this blog, click on the FAQ/Tutorial page on the left sidebar.)
Dene Ward

            I began teaching Bible classes when I was 16.  The elder who pulled me out of the high school class and put me into the third grade group when their teacher did not show up was a man named Robin Willis.  That was just the beginning of his cultivation of me as a teacher. 

            Eventually he appointed me the permanent first grade Bible class teacher.  It was a small class—never more than three, which was perfect for a teenage beginner, especially one flying solo.  I was only 17 and I don’t recall speaking to him much one on one, but he had obviously been paying attention.  In my experience since then, for a man to pay that kind of attention to any woman’s spiritual state, unless she is in abject sin, is unheard of.  More often we are shrugged off or ignored, but not this elder.

            Every so often brother Willis made an unannounced visit to my class.  He walked in, sat in the back, and quietly observed.  He never said a word during class and never made any extraneous noises—no grunts, no sighs, nothing that would distract me or the children.  I suppose that was the first time I realized the whole responsibility of elders in feeding their flock.  It wasn’t just appointing teachers and paying for classbooks.  That “onsite inspection” made me much more careful about what I taught and how, and it kept me from ever “phoning it in.”

            When I was 20 he asked me to create and teach a Bible class for the teenage girls in the church.  He came into that one too.  I think it bothered the young ladies far more than it did me—I was used to it by then, but the reminder of my responsibilities never hurt. 

            Before long, he told me I should publish my lessons.  He was as worried as I that the material for women’s classes at that time was pitifully shallow.  It took a few more years, but eventually Born of a Woman: Woman’s Place in the Scheme of Redemption appeared.  He worked for a printing company and saw to it personally that we got an excellent deal and a good looking product.  In case you are wondering, he gave up any personal commissions so I could have the lowest cost possible.  That book is still in circulation and it always pays for itself now.  I have women tell me all the time that they never learned so much in their lives as they did with that book.  They owe that to Robin Willis and his foresight.

            Studying for and writing that book and all that teaching experience at such an early age is what made me the teacher I am today.  Because a shepherd was looking at his flock and saw one who had some potential, because he cultivated that potential with patience, encouragement, and opportunities, I have now taught hundreds of women and children.  An elder doesn’t just feed his flock—he trains others to help with the task, be they men who become teachers, speakers, and maybe even elders, or women who learn to teach in the capacity God has allowed.  Shepherds teach those people the importance of their duty as they check up on them, offering suggestions and giving direction.

            Robin Willis holds a special place in my heart and always will.  If you have ever sat in one of my classes, or learned from one of my books, or read one of my articles, you should thank him as well.  If you are a shepherd of the Lord’s flock, take note of a man who knew what being a spiritual leader was all about.

Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you bishops, to feed the church of the Lord which he purchased with his own blood, Acts 20:28.

Dene Ward

My brother-in-law has finished his long journey.  Maybe it was because both of us were the in-laws, but for some reason he was especially kind to me, and I felt comfortable with him.

            Mike came a long way in his life, all the way from atheism to Christianity.  Keith had a special hand in turning him around.  Unfortunately, discouragement set in and he lost his way again for awhile.  When this illness hit him, with some words from his wife and Keith, he made the determination to come home.  Unfortunately, he never had the chance to sit in a pew again and commune with his spiritual family after he made that decision.  Things progressed too quickly and he was gone far sooner than anyone expected, including the doctors.

            When I read the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15, I notice something important.  The Father was out there looking for his lost son.  It wasn’t just a casual glance—he saw him “afar off.”  This was a Father who wanted to see his son coming home, who wanted to welcome him back.  He stood there looking long and hard for the first sign of that figure trudging down the road.

            Mike’s Father was looking for him too.  Mike had made that determination—he was well on the road home, even having mentioned it to some brethren who visited.  Who is to say that he wasn’t close enough for God to see him coming?  Who is to say that God hadn’t already started running down the road to welcome him home?

            Probably some older brother, that’s who.  I have some of those—brethren who not only expect that long march down the aisle (as if there is a verse requiring that in the New Testament) before they will even consent to forgiving, but who won’t even look down the road in the first place.  I have brethren who are not thrilled with the return of a lost brother but just as grieved as the prodigal’s older brother was.  I have brothers and sisters in Christ who actually seem to enjoy being cynical—“it’ll never last.” 

            But I praise God that He is a Father who is merciful, who wants to forgive, who actually looks for reasons to forgive, instead of reasons to condemn.

            None of us deserves God’s mercy.  Perhaps if we remembered that, we would be eagerly looking to forgive too.

Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful, Luke 6:36.

The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some count slackness; but is longsuffering to you-ward, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance, 2 Pet 3:9.

Dene Ward

            Keith and I have wondered out loud lately, how a word that should be a compliment, “adult,” has come to mean something bad--adult bookstores, adult movies, adult shops.  If a person knew no better, and walked into one of those places what would he see that could be described as “mature” the way the scriptures use the word?  It reminds me of Isaiah’s warning:  Woe unto those who call evil good and good evil; who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put sweet for bitter, and bitter for sweet, 5:20.

            I think there should be a new movie rating:  AM.  It stands for “adolescent mentality.”  Any movie that uses such a meager vocabulary that most of the words have only four letters, that has no dramatic, tension building dialogue lasting longer than ninety seconds before throwing in an explosion or gunfight to get the audience’s attention again, and of course, one that attempts to satisfy the prurient interests of the hormonally-explosive adolescent would get my new rating.  Then those of us who want to behave like real adults, who have larger vocabularies, who don’t need voyeurism to get our kicks, and who have an attention span longer than a minute or two can actually enjoy real adult entertainment.

            The problem with having an adolescent mentality when it comes to entertainment is that it is not confined to that arena.  Can I sit still long enough to pray?  Make yourself pray at least ten minutes today, by the clock.  Can you?  You see, once you get past the standard phrases, two minutes at most, you can really open up to your God, and talk to Him.  If you cannot sit still that long, you may have never really prayed.

            Can I follow a rational argument long enough to study the first 11 chapters of Romans, arguably Paul’s greatest thesis?  Can I study without being led by the hand, or do I simply rely on someone else to do it for me?  Do I have the maturity to honestly examine myself and actually try to do better?  Being a Christian may mean fighting some important battles, but the biggest are usually fought inside yourself and against yourself, with quiet implosions, not loud explosions.

            When we start out, we are all babes in Christ, but He expects us to grow up eventually.  That means some tedious work listening to sermons, attending classes, doing our own Bible study.  Adults understand that not everything can be fun.  It means some long, quiet moments with God.   It means some painful moments of self-discovery.  Are we adult enough to handle it?  Our society’s brand of entertainment speaks otherwise, and unfortunately, society usually winds up worming its way into the body of Christ. 

            When Paul told the Corinthians to Act like men, in 1 Cor 16:13, he was bringing the epistle to its logical end.  While Act like men refers to courage under fire, maybe it can mean something else as well.  In chapter three he calls them “babies,” but now perhaps he is also saying, “Act like adults.”  Would he say the same thing to us? 

But I, brothers, could not speak to you as spiritual men, but as carnal, as babies in Christ.  I fed you with milk, not with meat, for you were not able, and even now you are not able, for you are yet carnal…For everyone who partakes of milk is without experience in the word of righteousness, for he is a baby.  But solid food is for full-grown men who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern good and evil…Be watchful, stand firm in the faith.  Act like men, be strong.   1 Cor 3:1-3; Heb 5:13,14; 1 Cor 16:13

Dene Ward

We sit on the carport most spring mornings with a last cup of coffee, looking for the first sign of spring green in the trees, patting Chloe on the head, and planning our day.  This morning a light breeze ruffled my hair and I shrugged my shoulders against the bit of chill left from the last cold front that had blown through earlier in the week.  A light tinkle made my eyes wander up to the new wind chimes hanging above my head, not your ordinary bong-y wind chimes, but a delicate, more musical note that had gotten my attention the first time I heard them.

            I have a new friend, a sister in Christ, who crafts these things herself from antique flatware, glass jar lids, beads, and anything else she can find as she wanders through flea markets and small dusty shops.  Mine has all these beauties hanging from an antique silver salt cellar, something I must explain to anyone younger than 60.  All of her creations are beautiful and unique, and mine has that particularly melodious sound that made me choose it from its fellows.

            Outward beauty does not determine the sound that a wind chime produces.  It can only make the sounds that its various elements make.  You won’t get the same sound from iron bars that you will from silver and glass.  Ever do the trick with your glassware, pinging an empty one to see if it’s truly crystal or just ordinary glass?  That’s the way it is with wind chimes, and that’s the way it is with you and me.  A stony heart will not produce the same fruit as a soft one.  An iron heart will not act the same way a heart of gold will.

            You also know this:  the harder the wind blows, the louder the chimes.  When it seems like the storms of life blow us about the most, those are the times that what we are becomes most obvious.  Those are the times that people see what we’re made of.  Even if they don’t really care about the faith you may have tried to share, it becomes so obvious they cannot miss it.  The wind blows where it will, and you hear the voice thereof, but know not from where it comes, or where it goes; so is every one that is born of the Spirit, John 3:8.  People will not see the Spirit within you personally, but they will see its effects on you.  You cannot disguise whether or not you are filled with the Spirit of God.

            If you would like one of these beautiful chimes, just get in touch and I will share my friend’s contact information.  But today think about this far more important thing—you are God’s wind chimes.  People will not be satisfied with your appearance.  The point of the chimes is the sound they make.  What sound does the Wind produce in you?

And they that are in the flesh cannot please God. But you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwells in you. But if any man has not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his. And if Christ is in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the spirit is life because of righteousness. But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he that raised up Christ Jesus from the dead shall give life also to your mortal bodies through his Spirit that dwells in you, Rom 8:8-11.

Dene Ward

            When I was 14 a new young doctor came to town, one who was not afraid to “think outside the box.”  My older doctor turned me over to him and he decided to try contact lenses on me.  I had been wearing coke bottle glasses since I was 4 and my vision declined steadily year after year with the bottoms of the coke bottles getting thicker and thicker.

            In those days, hard, nonporous contact lenses were all they had.  Usually they were the size of fish scales.  Mine were not any broader in circumference but they were still as thick as miniature coke bottle bottoms and nearly as heavy on my eyes.  Most people who wore normal lenses could only tolerate them for six to eight hours.  Now add a cornea shaped like the end of a football, a corrugated football at that, and these things were not meant to be comfortable on my eyes, certainly not for the 16-18 hours a day I had to wear them.

            So why did I do it?  My prescription was +17.25.  The doctor told me there was no number on the chart for my vision.  (“Chart?  What chart?  I don’t see any chart.”)  He said if there were, it would be something like 20/10,000, a hyperbole I am sure, but it certainly made the point.  Hard contacts were my only hope.  If they could stabilize my eyesight, I would last a bit longer.  When I was 20, another doctor told me I would certainly have been totally blind by then if not for those contact lenses.

            Then soft contact lenses were invented and their popularity grew.  But they were not for me.  They would not have stabilized my vision.  I lost count of the number of times people who wore soft lenses said to me, “I tried those hard ones, but I just could not tolerate them.  You are so lucky you can wear them.”

            Luck had nothing to do with it.  My young doctor was smart.  He sat me down and said, “The only way you will be able to do this with these eyes is to really want to.  You must make up your mind that you will do it no matter what.”  That was quite a burden to place on a fourteen year old, but his tactics worked.  Despite the discomfort, I managed, and managed so well that most people never knew how uncomfortable I was.  Finally, when what seemed like the 1000th person told me they just could not tolerate hard lenses, I said, “You didn’t need them badly enough.”  Most of us can do much more than we ever thought possible when we really have to.

            Need is a strong motivation.  A couple of thousand years ago, it motivated a woman to go where she was not expected, normally not even allowed, and certainly not wanted. 

            Simon the Pharisee decided to have Jesus for dinner.  I read that it was the custom of the day for the leading Pharisee in the town to have the distinguished rabbi over for a meal when he sojourned there.  While the man would invite his friends to eat the meal, an open door policy made it possible for any interested party to come in and stand along the wall to listen--any interested man, that is.  Of course, it was assumed that only righteous men would be interested.

            In walked a “sinful” woman.  Luke, in chapter 7, uses a word that does not in itself imply any specific sin, but it was commonly used by that society to refer to what they considered the lowest of sinners, publicans and harlots.  The mere fact that she was a woman also caused someone in the crowd to exclaim, “Look!  A woman!” in what we assume was horrified shock.

            The men were all lying around a low table with their bodies resting on a couch and their feet turned away from the table in the direction of the wall, while their left elbows rested on the table.  The woman came into the room, walked around the wall, and began crying over Jesus’ feet.  Immediately, she knelt to wipe his feet with her hair.  I am told that this too was unacceptable.  “To unbind and loosen the hair in public before strangers was considered disgraceful and indecent for a woman,” commentator Lenski says.  We later discover that these were dirty, dusty feet from walking unpaved roads in sandals.  How do we know?  Because Simon did not even offer Jesus the customary hospitable foot washing. 

            Then she took an alabaster cruse of ointment, a costly gift, and anointed his feet—not just a token drop or two, but the entire contents--once the cruse was broken open, it was useless as a storage container.

            What did Simon do?  Nothing outward, but Jesus knew what he thought, and told him a story. 

            One man owed a lender 500 shillings, and another owed him 50.  Both were forgiven their debts when they could not pay.  Who, Jesus asked him, do you think was the most grateful?  The one who owed the most, of course, Simon easily answered.

            And so by using his own prejudices against him, Jesus proved that Simon himself was less grateful to God than this sinful woman.  His own actions, or lack thereof toward Jesus was the proof.  This man, like so many others of his party, was completely satisfied with himself and where he stood before God.  And that satisfaction blinded him to his own need, for truly no one can stand before God in his own righteousness.  His gratitude suffered because he did not feel his need.  Would he have gone into a hostile environment and lowered himself to do the most menial work a servant could do, and that in front of others?  Hardly.

            So how much do I think I need the grace of God?  The answer is the same one to how far I will go to get it, how much I will sacrifice to receive it, and how much pain I will put up with for even the smallest amount to touch my life.  Am I a self-satisfied Simon the Pharisee, more concerned with respectability than with his own need for forgiveness, or a sinful woman, who probably took the deepest breath of her life and walked into a room full of hostile men because she knew it was her only chance at Life? 

And turning to the woman, he said unto Simon, See this woman? I entered into your house; you gave me no water for my feet: but she has wet my feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss: but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss my feet.  My head with oil you did not anoint: but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  So I say unto you, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  And he said unto her, Your sins are forgiven… Your faith has saved you; go in peace, Luke 7:44-48,50.

Dene Ward

This new series has come to me in fits and starts over the years.  Age has a way of bringing together bits and pieces into a final realization that would never have arrived any other way.  After reviewing my life and observing hundreds of others, answering letters and emails seeking advice, and having scores of private sessions both in person and on the phone, I think I have finally figured something out. 

            We teach our young men fairly well these days, especially now that man-bashing has become a cultural phenomenon.  We, meaning women, seem to think they are responsible for all the ills in the world, and bumbling idiots to boot.  If you haven’t noticed that on television, you haven’t been paying enough attention.  So we teach them to be considerate husbands and involved fathers.  But have we ever taught them that, as the Divinely appointed head in practically all situations, they are to be spiritual leaders?  It is up to them, the scriptures say, to bring up their children “in the chastening and admonition of the Lord,” Eph 6:4.  It is up to them to “feed the flock” Acts 20:28.  It is up to them to make their wives holy (Eph 5:25-27).  As a woman I am not the one to teach this, but I can share with you the men in my life and how they have fulfilled their duties, and let their examples teach.  I am blessed to have had these men watching out for my spiritual growth and learning. 

            Obviously, fathers have the most to do with a child’s spiritual growth.  I have already introduced you to my father, Gerald Ayers--his example, his wisdom, and his care.  Because he understood his role, I grew up to be a Christian, not just someone who “got wet” and sat on a pew, but a real disciple of Christ. 

            In my house, no one ever questioned where we would be on Sunday and Wednesday.  There was never any reason to ask if I could miss an assembly for anything whatsoever.  It went without saying.  That kind of consistency is remarkably absent these days.  We try so hard to teach people that being a Christian is about more than sitting on a pew that we forget to tell them where and when to sit at all. 

            Yet I knew that assembly wasn’t all of it.  “Little pitchers have big ears,” we say of our children.  I heard some of the things he went through at work because he wouldn’t participate in after hours drinking, because he wouldn’t lie for the boss, and because his language was above reproach.  They called him, “Shucks,” because that was the strongest word that ever came out of his mouth, and most of them meant it as an insult.  I knew that being a Christian was important enough to take those insults, to be shunned, and to stand up when no one else stood with you.  My mother stood right there beside him.

            As I grew older he made sure I had the tools to study my Bible.  He made sure I had the time to do my lessons.  When a science teacher in the 8th grade gave me grief for being a Creationist, he gave me the materials I needed.  He had collected them and filed them away, and when the day came and I needed help, he handed me plenty of ammunition to fight my first real battle as a believer.  Thanks to him I wrote a paper that impressed even my teacher, according to her written remarks, even though to save face she only gave me a B+.  As a straight A student, I wore that B+ like a badge of honor.  It was my first ding in God’s service.

            My father continued in his role as leader when his grandsons came along.  They both remember his kindness, his smile, and the hymns he constantly sang.  Before he died, even in a state of increasing dementia, he was concerned about our faith.  “I want us all worshipping with the saints in Heaven,” he told me.  Recently I dedicated one of my posts to him, and I often use him as an example in my classes. He was the first of my spiritual leaders and probably the most important because he set the foundation for others to build on.

             But there were three more men who influenced me greatly, and I want you to know them too.  I hope you will continue to join me every Monday as I share them with you.

And if it seem evil unto you to serve Jehovah, choose you this day whom you will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve Jehovah. Joshua 24:15.

Dene Ward