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When I had boys I was scared to death.  Growing up there was just my sister and I, and most of the boys I knew at church were wild.  In fact, quite a few left the church as soon as they could.  I just knew I would never be able to raise good boys.

I had never reckoned with Keith.  He was determined to raise those boys “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.”  He never expected me to do it alone, and he started when they were young.  Even if he could not nurse them, he got up when they cried in the night and brought them to me.  He often sat there talking to them while they nursed, when he could have been sleeping, so they would early on associate both our voices with that comforting process.

Every evening he gave them their baths so I would have enough uninterrupted time to do the things I needed to do—wash the evening dishes, finish folding the laundry, and other necessary things.  A few times he sent me out right after the afternoon nursing to “do whatever you want,” while he sat with them, usually playing or reading to them.  Other times I would hear their voices wafting through the kitchen window, singing about the “wee little man.” while he held them up on the lowest limb of “the Zaccheus tree,” a sapling in the backyard

Play usually involved acting out Bible stories.  It was so handy that Daddy was bigger than they, so he could be Goliath, or “the big fish,” swallowing them up by covering them with his body until they had prayed for “three days and nights.”  As they grew older, the play became more spirited.  “Let’s play ‘roll and wrestle,’ Daddy,” was followed by thumps and giggles, and muffled shrieks of laughter as they took turns tackling Daddy in the middle of the living room floor and then rolling around as far as they could without knocking something over.  They never knew that Daddy was watching out for the furniture and carefully moderating his strength so he would not hurt them.  They just knew that Daddy would get down in the floor and play with them whenever they asked him to.

My favorite snapshot from those days is the one I took standing in the front door looking down on three mud-covered bodies.  It was summer and a soft, warm rain made it perfect for a mud fight.  They went out and had the time of their lives, then knocked on the front door.  I opened it to see Nathan on Keith’s shoulders and Lucas standing just in front of his legs, head about waist high, all three shirtless in grungy, mud-spattered cut-offs.  I think.  I did see three sets of eyes and grinning white teeth somewhere in all that brown mud.  Clean-up was just as much fun since it involved using a hose before they could even step inside the house.

He didn’t just involve himself in their fun.  He taught them how to work, how to be gentlemen, and how to study the Bible, among other manly pursuits.  

Keith started being a dad before those boys were even born, and has kept it up.  He was not above changing diapers.  In fact, one of his own original sayings is that if a Dad cannot change the messy diapers, he won’t be much use in later years when the messes of life afflict his children either.  

Keith will tell you that 90% of the convicted felons who sit across the desk from him did not have fathers in their homes.  He does not bother to check out what kind of father, or whether the marriage was a good one.  That makes that little fact even more important.  Even the mere presence of a father can make a huge difference.  Imagine the difference it would make if he were really trying to be a good one.

Dads, you know what you need to do today.  The buck stops at you.

Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, Eph 6:4.

Dene Ward

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After a hard day and a bad night, I was late getting up the other morning.  Already behind, I decided to start a load of laundry before dressing.  As I stood there in the laundry room I thought I heard someone outside calling from a long way off.  I almost didn’t—I was behind and did not need the interruption--but finally I opened the door.  Calling is not the word.  Screaming is more like it.  “No!  No!  Oh noooooo!” a voice I finally realized was my neighbor’s pierced the morning mist through the woods and across the creek.

As fast as I could, I pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed a sweater, slipped on shoes, and put the cell phone in my pocket.  Despite the early morning gloom of the woods, I made it to the creek without stumbling. Providence, surely, since I trip over everything now.  Across the narrow stream the house stood quiet and peaceful.  Either everything was okay, or everyone was already dead.

Not being one of those stupid girls in the horror movies who go down into the basement to check out the noise without a second thought, I stood there watching as I called on the cell.  No answer.  Well, that wasn’t good.  So I crossed the wooden bridge and opened the gate.  

Now I had to be on the lookout as well for the Great Dane, whose ears peak at eyeball level on me.  Not to mention the German shepherd and the blood hound.  Finally I saw vague figures moving over by the stable in the field fenced off from the main yard.  No one seemed frantic.  So I slipped around the house expecting them to come around the other side any moment, but no one was there and no one showed up in the few seconds I waited.  

As I turned to go back to the carport door I always use, the Dane in the house spotted me through the front window and his basso profundo bark rattled the walls.  I knew no one had gotten into that house, so my heartbeat slowed a bit.  My neighbor saw me herself then, and called from the back door. I had, indeed, gotten there after the excitement was over.  Her husband had left before daylight, forgetting to put the two big outside dogs in the horse field before the men hired to do some tree work had arrived.  She is 67 and shorter than I by three or four inches, but had tried to do it herself, and was knocked over by the happy, excited dogs and hit her head on the board fence.  Another neighbor had gotten to her first, which was just as well.  Only a man could have handled all those big, excited animals, and I think the hired men had to help him—that is who I had seen.

I thought, as I made my way back through the woods, as scared as I had been, I had not hesitated at all to go see about my neighbor.  Yet how many times have I ignored the cries of distress from my neighbors whose souls are in jeopardy?  No, they do not actually cry out.  You see that distress in their eyes.  You hear their desire for the peace you have in their questions, in their comments about how you handle problems better than they do.  

But instead of opening the door to listen, we are too busy with everyday chores to even notice.  We have our families to think about.  We have our own problems.  As one church told Keith a long time ago when he asked for a few dollars to print gospel meeting announcements and pass them out door to door, “They know where we are.  They will come if they are interested.  No need wasting the Lord’s money like that.”

Are we really listening to their calls for help?  Will they be calling someone else because we didn’t pay good enough attention and were slow to react?  Are we afraid we will waste “the Lord’s” money?  Why do we think it is there?  He certainly doesn’t need it.

Pay attention to those around you today.  Be sure you are really listening.

Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.  How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how shall they believe in him whom they have not heard? And how shall they hear without a preacher?  And how shall they preach, except they be sent? Even as it is written, how beautiful are the feet of them that bring glad tidings of good things! Rom 10:13-15

Dene Ward

Today’s article is by guest writer, Lucas Ward.

Just as it was prophesied in Isaiah, Jesus didn't speak much during His trial(s). In fact, He never once responded to any of His accusers. Not the false witnesses at the Jewish sham trial, not the Chief Priests before Pilate or the Jews before Herod. In all these cases, He stood mute. His silence enraged the High Priest and astounded Pilate. (Mt. 26:62-63, 27:12-14) In fact, the only times Jesus spoke were in answer to direct questions from the prosecutor/judge in reference to His identity. Even then, His answers weren't what one would normally expect from a defendant. Let's examine each of the four times He spoke and then see what conclusions we can draw.

Mat 26:63-64 "But Jesus remained silent. And the high priest said to him, "I adjure you by the living God, tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God." Jesus said to him, "You have said so. But I tell you, from now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven."" Notice that Jesus didn't merely answer in the affirmative, He went beyond that. "Seated at the right hand of Power" can only mean with God and in fact is a claim that He not only was the Christ the son of God, but that he was fully divine and equal to God. Who else could sit with Power? He adds to that statement that they will see Him coming in the clouds of heaven. Throughout the literary prophets, God coming in the clouds signified God coming in judgment to destroy a city or nation. Jesus is saying, not only am I the Christ, I'm God and I'm going to come in judgment on you! Immediately, the Sanhedrin declares that He is worthy of death for blasphemy. (A charge which would have been true had anyone else uttered those words.)

Luk 22:67 ""If you are the Christ, tell us." But he said to them, "If I tell you, you will not believe, and if I ask you, you will not answer. But from now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God." So they all said, "Are you the Son of God, then?" And he said to them, "You say that I am."" One of the proofs that this session is separate from those recorded in Matthew and Mark is that the whole line of questioning here is different. There are no false witnesses, and Jesus' answer to their question is a bit different. This is the formal "official" trial, and they need to get His "blasphemy" on record. This time when they ask, He tells them there is no point in answering, because they are too stubborn (and stupid?) to believe. He then continues to say that He will be seated with God and finally confirms that He is the Son of God. They again condemn Him to death.

Mat 27:11 Now Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Jesus said, "You have said so." John gives a much fuller account, but this is sufficient. Jesus claims to be a king to the Roman governor.

Joh 19:10-11 "So Pilate said to him, "You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?" Jesus answered him, "You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above. Therefore he who delivered me over to you has the greater sin."" While there may have been some slight compassion for Pilate on Jesus' part here – after all, Pilate was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, unjust and self-interested as he was -- He seems also to be thumbing His nose at Pilate. He tells Pilate that Pilate's power and authority count for nothing when dealing with Him, that Pilate would have no authority over Him except that God had so arranged it. 

Do you see a theme threading through these statements by the Lord? In every case, He said precisely what would enrage His questioners most. Before the Jews, He not only claimed to be the Christ, the son of God, but fully divine Himself and promised that He was coming in judgment upon them. He later repeated most of that while hinting that they were too stubborn to believe the truth. Before Pilate, He claimed to be a king. What was the primary responsibility of the Roman governors? To keep the peace and stamp out insurrections before they could get started. The fastest way to earn a death sentence was to claim to be a king and to gather followers around you. John records that not only did Jesus confirm to Pilate that He was a king, He also said that He had servants who would be willing to fight if He ordered it. While Pilate seems to have considered Jesus a harmless crazy person, this claim would have caused his antennae to twitch. Finally, Jesus tells Pilate that he holds no true power over Him. For a power hungry bureaucrat, this was a serious insult. All of Jesus' answers seem to be designed to upset His judges in the worst way. 

Unlike the case for most defendants, victory for Jesus entailed being convicted. His purpose was to be condemned to die. Always the master of what was going on around Him, He said exactly what He needed to in order to ensure that His condemnation came to pass. He wanted to be crucified and made sure that it happened, because that was the only way He could save us.

Lucas Ward

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Do a little research and you will find that the term “comfort food” was added to Webster’s Dictionary in 1972.  It refers to foods that are typically inexpensive, uncomplicated, and require little or no preparation at all; foods which usually bring pleasant associations with childhood, just as an old song can remind one of a long ago romance, or a smell can instantly bring back situations both good and bad.  

Comfort foods vary from culture to culture, but in our country usually include things like macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, fried chicken, ice cream, peanut butter, and brownies.  Folks tend to use comfort foods to provide familiarity and emotional security, or to reward themselves.  It’s not surprising that many of these are loaded with carbohydrates which can produce a soporific effect as well.  Comfort food followed closely by the comfort of sleep.

Since it became fashionable I have tried to figure out my own list of comfort foods. Here is my problem:  my mother was such a good cook and so adventurous, trying many recipes day after day, that I never had one dish often enough to form an attachment to it.  One cooking magazine actually runs the column, “My Mother’s Best Meal.”  I could not possibly pick one.  I would need a whole page to list them.  So for me it isn’t comfort food, it’s comfort cooking.  When my mind is in turmoil, I cook all day long, trying, I suppose, to recreate the warm, homey, safe atmosphere of my mother’s kitchen.

Comfort food works for the soul too.  The best part is, you don’t have to be a good cook.  You just open the word of God and feast.  You turn on the water of life and drink to your heart’s content.  You produce the fruit of the lips in praise to God whenever and wherever you desire.  You gather with your brothers and sisters and wallow in a fellowship that has absolutely nothing to do with coffee and donuts.

You can get fatter and fatter with all that spiritual nourishment and still be healthy.  In fact, in this context at least, the skinnier you are, the sicker, the sadder, and the weaker you are.

So grab a spoon today, and everyday, and dig in.

Work not for the food which perishes, but for the food which abides unto eternal life, which the Son of man shall give unto you: for him the Father, even God, has sealed, John 6:27.

Dene Ward

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I came across a reference to a Stephen Crane short story in which he stated that a certain character was not even a noun, but only an adverb.  I have never read that story, so I found myself pondering what in the world he must have meant by that. My mind wandered all over, eventually to spiritual matters.  How could one be an adverb instead of a noun?  

Then it struck me.  What is it the apostle John says of God?  Not that He acts lovingly, but that He is love.  It is one thing to act in a loving manner on occasion, and quite another to be the very embodiment of love.

If someone said of me that I had acted rudely, I would hope it was a momentary lapse in my usual behavior.  However, if someone said I was rudeness personified, it would mean that courtesy was a momentary lapse; that my habit was to behave rudely in practically every situation.  One is a stronger accusation than the other by far.  You can apologize for one.  The other requires a complete change in character.  

If someone called you a Scrooge, you would instantly understand that they think you are greedy and miserly.  The Bible uses similar language when it uses terms like “sons of disobedience.” It is not that difficult a concept to grasp.

So how would people describe me this morning?  Am I kindness personified?  Am I the embodiment of wisdom?  Or am I the epitome of childishness, or pettiness, or malice?  What noun are you?

And then there is this further consideration:  can I even become a noun?  Am I too inconsistent or too weak to become what God requires of me on a regular basis?  Can I ever hope to have someone say of me, “She is love,” or, “She is joy,” or “She is faith?”

A small thought for the morning, but one that could make a huge difference in our lives.

For the love of Christ constrains us; because we thus judge, that one died for all, therefore all died; and he died for all, that they that live should no longer live unto themselves, but unto him who for their sakes died and rose again…Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new, 2 Cor 5:14,15,17. 

Dene Ward

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Most families have just returned from a road trip of some variety this past summer.  You may not realize it, but this is a fairly recent development.  We seem to think that the Declaration of Independence lists our inalienable rights as “life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and a thousand dollar (or more) family vacation every year.”  When I was growing up we might have gone on two or three “vacations.”  The rest of the time we visited family, and that involved nothing but visiting—the adults talking and the children playing together.  Anywhere we might have gone while there was a free day trip—no admission fees—and lunch was usually a picnic we packed ourselves.  

If it hadn’t been for discovering tent camping, my boys would not have had vacations either.  In those days you could pitch a tent in a state park for $7.00 a night, and cook your own meals over the campfire instead of eating out.  We also did our share of family visiting.  Although you hate to view your family as a “free motel,” it was the only way we could see them at least once a year.

I like to think of this life as a road trip.  Too many people consider it the destination and that will skew your perspective in a bad way.  If you think this life is supposed to be the good part, you will sooner or later be severely disappointed.

As we go along the road a lot of things happen.  We will be faced with decisions that are not easy to make, and which may turn out badly.  Sometimes we are too easy on ourselves, making excuses and rationalizing.  But other times we are entirely too hard on ourselves.  If you look back on a decision you made years ago, and find yourself wishing you had done things differently, that doesn’t necessarily mean you were wrong then.  Sometimes it simply means you were without experience, a little naïve, a lot ignorant.

Let’s put it this way.  I live almost an hour north of Gainesville, Florida.  If I leave for Atlanta at 8 AM, it’s no shame if I am not even to Macon by 10 AM.  On the other hand, if I leave at 5 AM and haven’t even made Macon yet, something is wrong.  I’ve been dawdling over gas pumps, stopping for snacks too many times, or wandering through tourist traps that have nothing to do with the trip itself.  The question, then, is not where you are on the road, but when you left in the first place.  You can’t expect yourself to know what to do in every situation of life when you haven’t even experienced much life.  The decision you make today may be completely different than the one you made in the same situation twenty years ago, but twenty years ago if you did the best you could do with what you knew, you did well.

And what are we doing on our road trip?  Are we wasting too much time at tourist traps?  Life is full of distractions, things not necessarily wrong, but which may not help us on the trip at all, or may even do harm by skewing our perspective.  It really isn’t important where you live and what kind of car you drive in this life.  If you think it is, you’ve forgotten where you’re headed—the here and now has become your goal instead.  

If you want to keep your mind on the goal, ignore the billboards life puts out for you and spend time with your atlas.  Nothing helps me get through a long trip more than watching the towns go by and following them with my finger on the map.  Every time I check the mileage we are a little further on, and soon, sooner than you might think, the destination is in sight.  That’s why you started this trip in the first place—not for the World’s Largest Flea Market, or the Gigantic Book Sale, or even the Only Locally Owned Canning Facility and Orchard (with free samples).  

Watch the road, use the map, avoid the tourist traps.  Make the best decisions you can at every intersection.  This is the only road trip you get.  Don’t mess it up.

Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you. Ponder the path of your feet; then all your ways will be sure. Do not swerve to the right or to the left; turn your foot away from evil. Proverbs 4:25-27

Dene Ward