Psalm 23--Missing the Obvious Part 2

5/15/2015 0 Comments

Yes, there are more obvious things we simply read over in Psalm 23.
 
   When do you usually hear a reading of the twenty-third psalm?  Funerals and deathbeds, right?  We have consigned this little gem to those two occasions, probably because of the translation, “the valley of the shadow of death.”  Yet, if we had simply done a little study—very little, in fact—instead of just accepting what we always hear and assuming it the beginning and end of the matter, we would have found many other uses for this psalm.

    “The valley of the shadow of death” is actually one Hebrew word—tsalmaveth—and it can mean “deep darkness.”  It is, in fact, translated that way in the modern versions.  Yes, in Job 38:17 it seems to refer to physical death, but in Jer 2:6 it refers to the wilderness wandering, certainly a dark era for the people of God.  In Jer 13:16 it refers to the coming destruction and captivity, perhaps their darkest period.  In Job 34:22 I am not certain what it refers to, but it certainly isn’t death.  This is important because all of us experience times of deep darkness in our lives.  To know that God is with us during those times too, not just at death, is a comfort beyond any other.

    And do notice this, God is the one leading us to and through this dark place.  In fact, coming immediately after “he leads me in paths of righteousness” (literally, “right paths”), this dark place is the right place for me to be.  It may be a severe trial, but for some reason I need to be there.  It is right for me to be there, and God will lead me “through” it.  He will not put me there and leave me there.  Even something as severe as a losing a child, becoming disabled, or becoming terminally ill, is one He has led me to and through, accompanying me all the way.  

    But there may well be other kinds of dark places I must go through, and will realize He has been with me when I get out on the other side.  That is, if I have remained His faithful servant, trusting in His wisdom and care.  As long as He is with me, “I will fear no evil.”  It may be that His presence involves correction or discipline (His “rod and staff”), but I know that He loves me and this is the right place for me to be, and that even in this dark place, “goodness and mercy follows me,” that is, “pursues” me.  His goodness and mercy are on the hunt for me, even in the dark places—especially in the dark places.

    Don’t miss out on the gold in this little treasure chest just because you have heard it all your life.  Use it to help you navigate those dark places, with Him as your guiding star.  Trust Him, as this particular genre of psalms is called, the Psalms of Trust, or Psalms of Confidence—in God.  

    You can make it through the dark to a light beyond, which is also implied, for you can’t have a shadow without a light shining somewhere.

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to eat up my flesh, my adversaries and foes, it is they who stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war arise against me, yet I will be confident. One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple, Psalm 27:1-4.

Dene Ward

Psalm 23--Missing the Obvious Part 1

5/14/2015 0 Comments

Back in my younger years I was a jogger.  If you missed the story, slip over to the right sidebar under “categories,” and click on “Country Life.”  Scroll down to “One Fencepost at a Time”—even farther back than “Backwards One Fencepost at a Time”—and you can read about it with its own lesson of encouragement.

    When I finally progressed to jogging on the highway instead of the cow pasture (explained in that previous post), the first time I took nearly twice as long as I should have to jog the same distance.  Ordinarily, jogging on a firm surface is easier because your feet push off and the momentum is with you instead of all sinking down into the dirt, sand, mud, or grass of the softer surfaces.  That was not what slowed me down.  What kept distracting me were the things I had passed every day for three years and never seen before.

    In a car, you usually see the road, the signs, and possible problems—other cars, animals both domesticated and wild, pedestrians, potholes, discarded bottles, trash bags that fell off other vehicles, boards that might have nails in them, pieces of blown tires.  You must look for those things if you want to avoid an accident.  

    But that morning as I jogged slowly by I found out for the first time that a tiny creek ran through a four foot diameter culvert under the road just past the neighbor by the woods.  I discovered a path through those same woods that led to a ramshackle cabin a hundred feet off the road, nearly hidden by the ramrod straight pines.  I discovered that another neighbor had a second driveway, much smaller, that led to a shed behind the house.  Then as I approached the bridge over the New River, I found a path snaking off to its side, probably used by fishermen looking for bait, or kids swimming in the shallows.  All those things had been there the whole time I had, but it was as if I had discovered a brand new place.

    That is exactly how I felt after our ladies’ class studied Psalm 23.  I almost skipped that one—everyone knows it.  We all memorized it as children.  If there is a Bible passage in a movie, it is apt to be that one.  Why should we include that in what I hoped to be a study of brand new material for most of us?  Because it was brand new material, too.  I had gotten out of the speeding vehicle passing through it, and had jogged at a slower pace, seeing the details for the first time.  We are going to talk about what I found this time and next.

    Psalm 23 is classified as a Psalm of Trust.  I doubt that David, Ethan, Asaph, Solomon, Heman, the sons of Korah, Moses, or any other of the writers of the psalms actually made a decision to write a particular type of psalm and then followed some carefully laid out pattern.  No, the elements and patterns have been analyzed by scholars thousands of years removed from them, but it is interesting that they do follow something of a pattern.  For instance, Psalms of Trust (some call them Psalms of Confidence [in God]) tend to view God in metaphorical terms.  He is variously called a shield, a fortress, a rock, a shelter, a master [of slaves], and in this familiar psalm a shepherd.

    But here is the part I always missed—the metaphor in these psalms is apt to change abruptly, as it does here in verse 5.  Suddenly God is depicted as a host.  Some of the older commentators do not want to see this change, but please tell me, when was the last time you saw a sheep eating at a table or drinking out of a cup?  No, the shepherd feeds the sheep in verse 2: he makes me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters.  Sheep eat grass and drink water, and the shepherd has fed them exactly what they want and need.  Now it is the host’s turn to feed his friend in a brand new metaphor.

    And notice this, the host in verses 5 and 6 is not just an acquaintance fulfilling the obligations of hospitality in the Eastern tradition.  He is a close friend.  He takes you into his house not just for a meal but to “dwell forever.”  Indeed the Hebrew word for “house” often implies “household.”  That last verse could easily and correctly be translated “and I will remain in the family of the Lord forever.”  We’re not talking about being a pet sheep in the family, but a human member of the family, someone who eats at the table with the rest of the family, the truest sign of acceptance in that culture.

    See what you miss when you just breeze through an old familiar passage without a second thought?  You need to get out of the car and walk through it, paying attention to every detail and thinking about every nuance.  That’s how you learn new things.  And this new thing is nothing compared to the one I will show you tomorrow.

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, Eph 2:19.

Dene Ward

Obstacle Course

5/13/2015 1 Comments

A long time ago when I was a young mother, a wise, older woman made me stop and think with a few words that might have sounded harsh, but which she couched with an attitude of love and concern.  I had not taken a meal to a sick or grieving family for a long time; I had not taught a children’s class for about a year; I had not had anyone in my home for several months; I hadn’t even sent a card or made a phone call for awhile.  I was a busy young mother.  I had laundry to do every day including piles of diapers that never seemed to diminish, meals to fix, a baby to nurse and tend and a toddler to care for and teach, and a home that needed putting in some sort of order if just so we could keep track of where we put things, like the bills that needed paying.  

    Had this woman had the same problems years before when she was a young mother?  I suppose so, but I never even thought about that—all I thought about was my own problems, all the things I needed to do, how tired I was, and how I could not possibly do any of those other things because of the demands of my family and home.  

    She knew all this, but she still asked this simple question.  “What if,” she quietly said, “God decided to help you out by taking away all of your excuses?”

    After a moment of shock, I suddenly saw my children and my home in another light.  Here I was claiming to love them more than anything else, while telling everyone what an obstacle they were in my life, maybe not in words, but certainly in deeds—or lack of them.  Yes, serving my family is also serving God, but isn’t it hypocritical to then turn around and use that service as a reason not to serve others?  The last thing in the world I wanted was for God to take them away from me, and I determined that they would no longer be the excuses I offered for not doing what I could.  

    No, I could not spend hours and hours away from them, nor several hours caring for others directly, but surely I could pick up the phone or write a note when the babies were napping.  Surely I could fix an extra casserole when I made one for my family, and send it with someone else to a home where a mother was too sick to do it and the father was out working all day.  Surely, I could find something I could do.

    I think something else happened to my attitude that day, too.  I was suddenly aware of all the things that needed doing for others, and looking forward to a time when I could, instead of sitting at home, selfishly wondering when I would ever have “me time” again.  My home was where I wanted to be, but I also knew that I wanted to be doing what I could for others, when I could, for as long as I could, just like that kind sister who taught me a lesson with a simple question.  

    What kind of excuses have already come out of our mouths today?  What if God took them away in the blink of an eye so we could do those things we claim to want to do “if only…?”

But he said unto him, A certain man made a great supper; and he bade many: and he sent forth his servant at supper time to say to them that were bidden, Come; for things are now ready. And they all with one consent began to make excuse. The first said unto him, I have bought a field, and I must needs go out and see it; I pray have me excused.  And another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them; I pray have me excused. And another said, I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. And the servant came, and told his lord these things. Then the master of the house being angry said to his servant, Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in the poor and maimed and blind and lame... For I say unto you, that none of those men that were bidden shall taste of my supper. Luke 14:16-21,24.

Dene Ward

Heavy Lifting

5/12/2015 0 Comments

Keith has become my porter.  Depending on my condition at any given moment, high eye pressure, foggy vision, post-op, etc, I am not supposed to lift more than 10-20 pounds.  The ten pound limit is a real problem.  A grocery sack with a bag of sugar and a bag of flour weighs ten pounds.  If the bagger adds anything else, I am over the limit.  That makes for a lot of trips back and forth to the car.

    So Keith does a lot of carrying.  He even insists on carrying my purse sometimes, which I assured him weighs only 4 lbs—I checked it to make sure.

    The Lord has promised to carry our burdens, but we don’t want to turn them over to him.  The worries are not that big a deal to give up; it’s all the emotional baggage from the past that for some reason we cannot seem to part with.  You would think it was a treasured heirloom.

    Just imagine the troubles the Lord might have had if people had been so reluctant in the first century.  Just look at the apostles.  How in the world would Simon the Zealot and Matthew the publican have ever gotten along if they had not rid themselves of their “baggage?”  These men came from opposite poles in ideology, and Simon was certainly passionate about it.  Yet they learned to trust one another and get along.

    Yes, it took a little help from Barnabas for the Jerusalem church to accept their former persecutor, the man who turned them over to their tormentors and executors, but they did.  How much more difficult would it have been for the gospel to be preached to all the world if they had rejected Saul of Tarsus?  Would we have so easily accepted this former enemy into our midst?

    How many times do we let our pasts affect how we treat one another?  Can I not trust a brother because a long time ago someone hurt my feelings?  Do I expect the worst of even my brothers and sisters in Christ because in the past someone disappointed me?  Do I judge everyone as “out to get me” because at one time someone was?  Too many times the people we claim to love have to pay for what someone they never even knew did to us simply because we cannot let it go.  

    Jesus expects that when I become his disciple I will put all that extra baggage on him.  There may be times when I am tempted to pick it up again, but if I have taken on his burden—take my yoke upon you and learn of me…for my yoke is easy and my burden is light, Matt 11:29,30—I won’t have room for anything else.  

    So the question is, are you truly his disciple?  Whose burden are you trying to carry today, his light one or your heavy one?  If you are having trouble getting along with someone, especially someone you are supposed to love and trust, I bet I know the answer to that one.   

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you, 1 Peter 5:6,7.

Dene Ward

Job Part 1--Speaking Right of God

5/11/2015 0 Comments

This is the first in a series on the book of Job by guest writer Lucas Ward.  Look for this series on the Monday nearest the middle of the month for the next several months.

We must always be careful when making assumptions about God’s intentions.  We can find several examples of times when prophets and apostles both said "who knows, maybe this is what God is doing." If inspired men are unwilling to say definitively what God is doing, then who am I to quickly assert, "God has opened this door for me and is leading me down this path."? 

I think a great example of this is found in the book of Job.  One of the amazing things I have discovered about Job is that his friends' sayings are so often right.  Over and over their arguments parallel the best of the wisdom books.  At least twice Job agrees that their statements are correct in themselves but that they don't apply to him.  For instance, compare Eliphaz's statement in Job 4:7-9 with Prov. 13:21-22. "Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished, being innocent? Or where were the upright cut off? According as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow trouble, reap the same. By the breath of God they perish, and by the blast of his anger are they consumed." and "Evil pursueth sinners; but the righteous shall be recompensed with good. A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children; and the wealth of the sinner is laid up for the righteous." They seem very similar, no? Or Eliphaz's description of the fool in Job 5:2-6 and Solomon's in Prov. 13:18-19.  Also very similar.  Most telling, perhaps, is Eliphaz's statement in Job 5:17 "Behold, happy is the man whom God correcteth: Therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty." That idea is paralleled in Ps. 94:12 and Proverbs 3.  Proverbs 3 is then quoted in Hebrews 12 and the writer expounds upon the idea considerably.  So, the general wisdom statements of Job's friends were good, sound wisdom as understood by Job and backed by God's inspired writers. 

So, then, how were the friends wrong?  Why were they condemned?  The easy answer is that they wrongly condemned Job, that they accused him of sin without evidence and assumed his guilt and attacked him for it. That, however, is not why God said He was angry with them. "The LORD said to Eliphaz the Temanite: "My anger burns against you and against your two friends, for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has." Job 42:7. It is not what they said about Job that was so annoying to God, it was what they said about God that got them into trouble. Yet almost everything they said of God was good, accepted wisdom backed up by other inspired wisdom writers! 

So where did the friends, and Eliphaz particularly, go wrong?  This is a question I intend to pursue as I go on in my study of Job, but here is my first impression of how they went wrong: in trying to fit God into a box.  In assuming that, because they knew some good general wisdom about God's tendencies, they understood exactly what He was doing at all times. In basically assuming that, if God were righteous, He MUST do what THEY thought He ought to do.  If God did otherwise, then He was wrong.  This, I believe, is how they spoke wrongly about God. 

Don't you see how this fits in with the original discussion?  We know quite a bit of good, general wisdom about how God acts.  We know that "all things work together for the good of them that love God."  We know that we "can do all things through Christ who strengthens" us.  We know that God is protecting us, watching over us, and taking care of us.  But when we say, specifically, that God is doing such and such based on these general statements, we are confining God to a box.  We are saying that He must be doing this, because this is what we understand as right, and, therefore, if He is doing something else, then He is wrong. 

Maybe, in a certain situation, He is blessing us or maybe He is testing us to see if we will come to rely on our wealth instead of Him.  We see a door open and assume it is from God, but maybe it is Satan tempting us to go astray.  Maybe these horrible things that are happening to us, which we assume are from Satan, were actually sent by God to make us stronger.  In the end, I know that I'll be better because of what happens in this life (Rom. 8:28) but I need to be careful about assuming I know the mind of God in every instance. That assumption is not one the prophets or apostles were willing to make (“who knows…?”) and it is one that got Eliphaz and his friends in trouble.

Lucas Ward

Just Filling the Time

5/8/2015 2 Comments

When I did my internship as a music teacher in the public schools, I looked up one day to find my professor walking into the music room behind the fifth grade class scheduled for that half hour.  My heart sank.  I did have a lesson prepared, but it was not a wow-zer.  It taught a valid musical concept, one I could easily build on in future lessons—the first of what educators called a “unit.”  I had prepared a lesson plan with appropriate behavioral objectives.  It met all expectations and requirements.  But to me, it seemed so—well, ordinary.

    I taught that lesson twice in a row with no problems.  The students caught on quickly and I met the objectives with no difficulty.  After the second group left I approached the tall, slim, dignified looking lady, expecting her to meet me with, at best, a mediocre assessment.

    “Good job,” she said, and when my jaw dropped she added, “Listen:  they can’t all be showstoppers.  You taught an important lesson and you taught it well.  They learned exactly what you set out to teach them and they enjoyed it.”

    I learned something that day, something I keep reminding myself as I approach the computer day after day, struggling sometimes to find something to write.  Just do your best.  Turn in a good effort, be faithful to the Word God has entrusted you with, and let Him take care of the rest.

    Sometimes I hear from people telling me that what I wrote was exactly what they needed that day.  A few times it was a piece I almost deleted because I was so dissatisfied with it.  The same thing has happened to Keith.  When you preach two sermons a week, every week, you occasionally produce one just because you needed one to fill the time one Sunday morning, not because you were particularly enthralled with the subject.  Many times people have complimented those very sermons.  At least one of them led directly to a conversion.

    Many times we feel unnoticed and totally useless to the Lord.  We think we are doing nothing for God because nothing we do matters.  Nonsense.  More people are watching you than you know.  You need to learn the same lesson I did.  Every day can't be a showstopper.  Some days are so ordinary as to make you wonder why you exist.  You get up, you go to work, you come home and spend time with the family.  You pay your bills on time and help the neighbor with his ornery lawn mower, perhaps even mowing his yard for him.  You study your Bible, and then you hit the sack and get up and go again the next morning, an ordinary--you think--honest, hard-working joe.

Or you get up and down all night with the baby and barely know you are sending your older ones off to school because you are so tired.  But then you still do the grocery shopping and prepare the meals and launder the clothes.  You wash dishes and scrub floors and dust the countertops and shelves, change the sheets, then throw together an extra casserole for a sick neighbor, help the kids with their Bible lesson and then their homework, and fall into bed exhausted.

Or you sit at home alone because you are too old and sick and frail to get out any longer, so you watch a little TV, read your Bible, call a few folks on the sick list (besides yourself), write a few get well and sympathy cards, then go to bed and start all over again tomorrow.

And all of you wonder, what good is that to anyone?  Well, you never know, especially when you count God into the mix.  He can work wonders with the weak, the frightened, and the average.  He can take the smallest seed you plant and make a huge tree out of it.  Don’t you remember a parable along those lines?  In God’s hands, nothing you do is just filling up time.

So get up every morning and do what you are supposed to do in the way you are supposed to do it.  Someone out there needs to see you do that, and if you do, God will take care of the rest.

I planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase. So then neither is he that plants anything, neither he that waters; but God that gives the increase. Now he that plants and he that waters are one: but each shall receive his own reward according to his own labor. For we are God's fellow-workers...  1Cor 3:6-9.

Dene Ward

Popcorn

5/7/2015 0 Comments

Popcorn is our snack of choice when watching ball games.  We make it the old fashioned way—bacon grease in a large saucepan, bulk popcorn from a large plastic bag, and salt.  Heat it over high heat, shaking the pan until it stops popping.  The stuff out of the microwave cannot begin to compare.

    We still wind up with what the industry calls “old maids,” kernels that have not popped.  Usually it’s the kernel’s fault, not the popper’s.  

    They tell me that popcorn kernels are the only grain with a hard moisture-proof hull.  That means that not only can moisture not get into the kernel, but the moisture inside the kernel cannot get out either.  As you heat them, the steam inside increases until the pressure reaches 135 psi and the heat 180 degrees Celsius (356 for us non-scientists).  At that point, the starch inside the kernel gelatinizes, becoming soft and pliable.   When the hull explodes the steam expands the starch and proteins into the airy foam we know as popcorn.

    I found two theories about old maids.  One is that there is not enough moisture in the kernel to begin with; the other is that the hull develops a leak, acting as a release valve so that pressure cannot build enough for the “explosion.”  Either way, the kernels just sit there and scorch, becoming harder and drier as they cook.

    Isn’t that what happens when we undergo trials?  Some of us use the experience to flower into a stronger, wiser, more pleasant personality.  Others of us sit there and scorch in the heat until we dry up completely, no use for God or His people, let alone ourselves.  The resulting bitterness is reflected in the cynical way we view the world, the way we continue to wallow in the misery of our losses, and the impenetrable barrier we raise whenever anyone tries to help us.  As Israel said when they had forsaken God for idols and knew they would be punished, Our bones have dried up, our hope is lost, we are clean cut off, Ezek 37:11.  When we refuse to seek God in our day of trouble, when we forget the blessings He has given us even though we deserved none, that is the result.

    But God can help even the hopeless.  He can bring us back from despair. 
He can make our hearts blossom in the heat of trial if we remember the lesson about priorities, about what really counts in the end.  If we have only hoped in Christ in this life, we are of all men most pitiable, 1 Cor 15:19, and that is exactly where we find ourselves if we allow anything in this life to steal our faith in God.  

    Trials are not pleasant; they are not meant to be.  They are meant to create something new in us, something stronger and more spiritual.  When, instead, we become hard and bitter, we are like the old maids in a bag of popcorn, and when the popcorn fizzles, it’s the popcorn’s fault.

For our light affliction, which is for the moment, works for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. 2 Cor 4:17,18.

Dene Ward

Pollen

5/6/2015 0 Comments

In February the pine and oak trees suddenly burst out in fuzzy yellow green tufts of pollen that fell like snow on the ground and the sidewalk, covering our car in a thin layer of windblown chartreuse powder and stuffing up Keith’s nose like cotton.  In March the needles and leaves finished falling and the new ones almost instantly budded out in their customary spring green color.  The pollen dried and began falling in earnest, turning the new green grass brown under its carpeting.  Every time I finished working outside, I brushed my shoulders off before heading inside.

    I thought I was in good shape, but in the middle of the night my hand ran over my pillow and I felt it—several large grains of something, and as the sleep fog lifted I realized what it was—tufts of pollen.  On my pillow?  How in the world…?  And then I knew.  It had fallen into my hair, and my hair with all its corkscrews had trapped it like a net.  The only way it was coming out was with a comb—or rubbing it on a pillow, I guess.  The next morning I cleaned out my hair, brushed off the pillow and sheet, and swept the floor.  Then I walked around the house and discovered more on the floors of every room.  So I swept them all.  But that only fixed the problem that morning.  In the afternoon, I had to check my hair all over again.

    It’s easy to think you can be in the world and not be contaminated by it.  Yet every day you bring home those same contaminants if you are not careful to remove them.  They will not easily brush off.  They will not stop falling just because it’s you they might fall on.  And if you leave them, perhaps thinking you will get them out later, or that they will fall out on their own where they won’t hurt anyone, they will affect every part of your life before you know it.  Your language changes, your dress changes, your interests change, and finally, your attitudes change, and suddenly you are not the person you thought you were.

    I have learned to brush myself off every day while the pollen is falling, to run my fingers through my hair and untangle the ones that are trapped.  I check my shoes and the creases in my jeans.  And I do it whether I have been outside all morning or just a few minutes.  Contamination can happen in a flash.

    Be sure to check yourself this evening before you hurt not just yourself, but the ones you love.  

Pure religion and undefiled before our God and Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.  Jas 1:27

Dene Ward

What's for Dinner?

5/5/2015 0 Comments

We saw a new bird darting in and out of the azalea limbs on the side of the house away from the feeder, a small black bird with a white belly and orange patches on its wings and tail—an American Redstart, I discovered later, a bug-eater, which explained why he avoided the bird feeder.  I don’t know why it had never crossed my mind before—no wonder I only saw a few birds there, the same varieties over and over.  Birdseed simply does not appeal to all birds.  Now if I could figure out a way to keep live bugs there too and allow the birds to come and go as they please, I would see a big increase in numbers.

    What people see of the gospel in our lives determines who and even if we attract others to it.  I can remember times past when we were so afraid of unscriptural denominational doctrines that we swung the pendulum too hard in the other direction and wound up being miserable.  Since the scriptures plainly teach that it is possible to fall from grace and that humility is necessary for salvation, we never allowed ourselves to say, “I know I am going to Heaven.”  Why, how arrogant could one be?  Don’t you know that you can sin so as to lose your salvation?  So hope, a confident expectation of salvation, disappeared from our lives.

    We treated sin as a constant, a mysterious miasma that afflicted us every day of our lives whether we knew it or not.  “Forgive us, Lord, for we know we sin all the time.”  We thought we could not avoid it no matter how hard we tried, not even with help from the Lord.  So we went around looking over our shoulders, wondering when it would attack us and hoping that when we died we would have seen death coming and had time to shoot off a quick prayer for forgiveness.  

    What did we present to the world?  Fear, frustration, hopelessness, anxiety, bitterness, dread, desperation—and then we looked to our neighbors and said, “Hey!  Don’t you want what I have?”  Why were we so surprised when none did?

    I think we would attract far more to our “feeder” if we showed them the joy, hope, peace, and love that the first century Christians did.  We can because the scriptures plainly teach that we can overcome sin if we will and that God’s grace will help us when we fail; they teach that we can be assured of our salvation. God is not sitting up there watching and waiting for us to slip so He can say, “Aha!  Gotcha!”

    What’s on your bird feeder today?  The seed of the Word of God, or just a bunch of bugs?

My little children, these things write I unto you that you may not sin. And if any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous: and he is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also for the whole world…These things have I written unto you, that you may know that ye have eternal life, even unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God. 1 John 2:1,2; 5:13.

Dene Ward

Rough Drafts

5/4/2015 3 Comments

I took my first writing course as a junior in high school.  Our first assignment included stapling the rough draft to the final copy.  Imagine my surprise when the teacher handed back my paper with this written across the front of the rough draft:  This is too neat.  You didn’t make enough changes and corrections.  A rough draft should look that way—rough!

    Then I looked at my finished paper.  I saw words marked out, phrases circled and “pointed” by an arrow to another place in the sentence.  I saw other words added, and suggestions made with question marks beside them.  Whole sentences were bracketed and directions written above:  “make these phrases parallel;” “needs a concrete noun;” “get rid of the intensifiers.”  In fact, what I saw before me was a real rough draft, exactly how my own should have looked.  

    As the class continued and I learned better writing techniques, my rough drafts became messier and messier.  Sometimes at the end, it took me a half hour to decipher the code of scribbled notes and write what I wanted to turn in.  But inevitably, the rougher the draft, the better the finished product turned out.  

    I learned not to “fall in love with my own words,” as my teacher called it.  I took a red pen to my own creation and marked out words like a safari guide slashing through brush with a machete.  I kept a thesaurus handy to help with vocabulary choices, making nouns and verbs so concrete that few modifiers were even necessary.  I not only got rid of intensifiers, I deleted delayers too, then I worked on turning 8 word clauses into 4 word phrases, concentrating the effect of the writing, rather than diluting it.  Sometimes I even deleted whole paragraphs.  

    Before long I could write better the first time around, but still see places to improve on the read-through, smaller things that would have gotten lost in the obvious mess beforehand.  Even now, when reading something I wrote years ago, I automatically go into edit mode.  Even after it’s put on the blog, I notice things I wish I had changed.  What I said wasn’t wrong, but I could have made it just a teensy bit better, even after the half a dozen edits I always do.

    Today should be your life’s rough draft for tomorrow.  Every evening you should go over your actions, your words, your attitudes and see where you need to “edit.”  If you don’t see anything, you are obviously new to the idea like I was the first time I tried.  My first paper sounded pretty good to me, so I didn’t see the need to change much, but if you were to find it somewhere after all these years, I bet I could hack it to pieces in ten short minutes now.  That is how we need to get about our lives if we ever expect to improve as children of God and become spiritually mature.  We must learn to see the changes we need to make, the faults we try to hide from others and only wind up hiding from ourselves.  If I make the same mistakes every day, then my rough draft isn’t rough enough.

    Let me quickly say this: God doesn’t want you constantly discouraged, thinking you are never right with Him because there is always something you could have done “better.”  God wants us to know that we have eternal life, according to John (1 John 5:13), and that happens because of grace—not because you are perfect.  But that is a far cry from the complacency that believes it already has things figured out, doesn’t need to learn anything new, and always sees the faults of others without ever considering that it might possibly have one or two itself.

    Today, write your rough draft on the paper of time.  Do the best you can.  Then tonight, see what needs editing.  If you write the same thing tomorrow, you are still just a beginner in this class, no matter how old you are.  It’s time to get to work.

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, Eph 4:15.

Dene Ward