Due to my congenital eye problems, I grew up reading in my room instead of playing outside with the other kids.  That may sound odd—reading when one has an eye problem—but, you see, reading was safe.  As long as I had my coke bottle glasses I could sink back into my imagination and see the world.  Whenever I tried to play with the other children, I always tripped over something I did not see, fell and skinned my knees, or got hit in the face with whatever ball we were playing with at the time because I could not see it coming, sometimes breaking those expensive glasses. 

            Then I married a man, and had two boys.  Here I was with a house full of men and had absolutely no experience either playing sports or watching them.  Well—I tried to watch football once when I was about 10.  It looked to me like two bunches of men who every minute or so ran into each other and fell down.  I did enough of that myself, and could not see the attraction at all.

            But I wanted a close relationship with my family, so I started sitting with them on Saturday afternoons, watching what they watched—football and basketball.  Although I still do not have any idea what a “pick and roll” is, or why in the world they call a guy a tackle and then forbid him to do exactly that, I can now identify a naked bootleg and tell when a charge is not a charge, but a blocking foul.  The boys got a big kick out of teaching these things to Mom.

            I went to that trouble because I cared about my family relationships.  Do I care for my neighbors as well? Or have I bought into the egocentric American notion that the world should operate on my schedule and according to my desires, and no one else has any legitimate problems, or any other rationale for what they do other than to aggravate me and get in my way? 

         Will I ask the man next door about his golf game, while studiously avoiding the old joke about golf being “a good walk ruined?”  When I meet the lady across the street at the mailbox, will I ask to see her latest crocheted creation, even though I don’t know the name of a single stitch, and can barely sew a straight line on a machine?  If I want to develop the kind of relationships that will become closer and deeper, and perhaps eventually lead them to the Lord, I hope I will.  These things may seem insignificant, but they pave the way for things that are anything but.

            What lives will you and I try to touch today?
 
For though I was free from all men, I brought myself under bondage to all, that I might gain the more.  And to the Jews I became as a Jew that I might gain Jews; to them that were under the law, as under the law, not being myself under the law, that I might gain them that are under the law; to them that are without law as without law, not being without law to God but under law to Christ. To the weak I became weak, that I might gain the weak.  I have become all things to all men that I may by all means save some.  And I do all things for the gospel’s sake, that I might be a joint partaker thereof.  1 Cor 9:19-23
 
Dene Ward

The 1930s were famous for more than one disaster.  Besides the Great Depression they were also known as the Dirty Thirties.  Drought, over-farming, and over-grazing turned the once fertile land of the Great Plains into the Dust Bowl.  100 million acres of farmland were affected.  Dozens of massive dust storms blew through every year of that decade.  The worst day by far was April 14, 1935 when 20 storms blew through in one day, turning the skies black and leading to the name "Black Sunday." 

              Those storms were far more dangerous than we realize.  All during that decade, schools were often closed to prevent "dust pneumonia" in those traveling back and forth.  If the children were already at school when a storm began, they were often kept overnight to keep them out of the filthy air. Cars drug chains behind them to ground them due to the high voltage static electricity that the dust caused and which led to several electrocutions.  People knew to sweep the dust off their roofs, but they forgot that dust seeps into cracks and many attics collapsed on the families beneath.

               After reading all that I knew that my incredibly dust-producing house was not as bad as I always thought.  Still, though, it is the dustiest place we have ever lived. A few weeks ago I got out the dust rags and the polish and went to work.  It had been over two months since I had dusted anything at all and it was showing, not just on the furniture, but in my nose and lungs—I have a dust mite allergy. 
 
             I knew it would take awhile and it did, dusting every flat surface and every item on them, including a large dinner bell collection, vases from Bethlehem and Nicaragua, and those porcelain bootee-shaped vases that flowers had come in when the boys were born, figurines inherited from grandmothers and great-aunts, a wooden airplane Keith’s grandfather whittled inside an empty whiskey bottle, candles, telephones, a small piano collection, a metronome, fan blades, jewelry boxes, and beaucoup picture frames.  I dirtied up four rags in an hour and a half, sneezed a couple dozen times, and required a decongestant in order to breathe the rest of the day.

              When I finished I looked around.  The pictures all reflected brightly in the wood they sat on, the porcelain shone, the candles looked a shade brighter, and the brass gleamed.  What a difference it made to dust things off.

              So what do you need to dust off in your life?   Sometimes we become satisfied with our place in the kingdom, happy with where we are in our spiritual growth, comfortable in our relationships with others and our ability to overcome.  Sometimes we sit so long in our comfortable spot, be it a literal pew or a figurative one, that we soon sport our own layer of dust.  Maybe we aren’t doing anything wrong exactly, we have just stopped stretching ourselves to be better and do more. 

              “Dusting off” seems a good metaphor for “renewal.”  Paul tells the Colossians we have “put off our old selves” (past tense) but that the new self is “being renewed” (present tense), Col 3:9,10.  Being renewed has not stopped and never should.  Every day is a new beginning for the child of God.  When we forget that, the dust starts to settle, and our light is dimmed with a layer of uselessness that builds every minute.  Soon, as the light weakens, no one will notice us, or is that the point?

              When did you last dust yourself off and get to work, “transforming yourself by the renewing of your mind?” Rom 12:2.  That layer of dust will build and build until it collapses on your unsuspecting spirit, giving you a case of dust pneumonia from which you may never recover.
 
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me, Psalms 51:10.
 
Dene Ward

I know this discussion has been around for years on Facebook and probably for a couple of millennia in the hearts of those who try to excuse their behavior.  But I do not think I have ever heard it discussed this way.

              All of you have dealt with people who try to justify themselves with a statement that begins, "But God wouldn't want…"  What exactly?  Me to be unhappy, me to live alone, me to deny who I really am, et cetera ad nauseam. All of the things they are trying to excuse are plainly condemned in the scriptures.  Usually we fall into their trap and wind up saying, "Yes, God does want you to be unhappy," and even though we have a qualifying statement after that—like, if it means you can't go to Heaven otherwise—no one will listen because of our culture's blind acceptance of anything that rouses warm, fuzzy emotions.  So let's just examine those first four words and leave the rest out.

              "But God wouldn't want…"  When someone says that, the red flags should start waving in your mind.  What exactly are they doing?  Presuming to speak for God, that's what.  Presuming to know exactly how God does and does not feel, what He does and does not want.  False prophets did this when they said they were speaking for God. 

              And the LORD said to me: “The prophets are prophesying lies in my name. I did not send them, nor did I command them or speak to them. They are prophesying to you a lying vision, worthless divination, and the deceit of their own minds. Therefore thus says the LORD concerning the prophets who prophesy in my name although I did not send them, and who say, ‘Sword and famine shall not come upon this land’: By sword and famine those prophets shall be consumed. (Jer 14:14-15)

              Presuming what God would say or do about something and then telling others in his name is presumption.  Presumptuous people did not fare well under the Law.

              The man who acts presumptuously by not obeying the priest who stands to minister there before the LORD your God, or the judge, that man shall die. So you shall purge the evil from Israel. (Deut 17:12)

              But the prophet, that shall speak a word presumptuously in my name, which I have not commanded him to speak…that same prophet shall die. (Deut 18:20)

              God does not take it kindly when we take His role, uttering pronouncements as if we were God Himself.  In fact, there is a word for that sort of behavior—blasphemy.  Think of that the next time you want to do something that He has plainly said he does not approve of, yet you utter those presumptuous words:  "God wouldn't want…"
 
…the Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials and to keep the unrighteous under punishment until the day of judgment, especially those who follow the polluting desires of the flesh and despise authority. Bold, arrogant people! They do not tremble when they blaspheme the glorious ones. (2Pet 2:9-10)
 
Dene Ward

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Psalm 103:1
 
              In our Psalms class we came upon this call from David to bless Jehovah, a wake-up call directed first to himself as he sat complacent and satisfied with his ho-hum worship, and then later to the people who were following their king’s lead.  The question quite naturally arose then, how can a man bless God?  So we did a little research.

              Your first thought might be that there are two distinct words for “bless”—one for God blessing men and one for men blessing God.  Not true.  Both are the same Hebrew word.  It doesn’t take a Hebrew scholar to look at the anglicized word barak in several different verses and see that it is indeed the same word.

              Here is something else we discovered with but a small amount of time searching the scriptures:  “bless” usually does not involve physical things.  We tend to think that way in our all too materialistic culture.  When asked to count our blessings, what do we list?  When we ask God to bless us, what do we expect?  Yet in the scriptures, I found that well over half the times the word “bless” was used it involved nothing more than what we might call “well wishes,” wanting good to happen to the other person.  Now think about the opposite—if someone curses a person, what is it exactly that he wants?  He wants evil to befall that person.  We understand that perfectly fine; the problem comes when we think a blessing involves a tangible gift.  Of course, we cannot do that for God, but we can give God other “blessings.”

              We checked out over 300 verses using the word “bless,” many of which involved men blessing God.  It helped enormously when we saw the various ways that word is translated in the KJV.  In fact, some of these things completely lost there punch in the newer versions.  Let that be a lesson to you not to completely ignore those older versions.  They lasted a long time for a good reason.

              Five times the word is translated “salute.”  In the newer versions that word is translated “greet.”  There is a world of difference between saluting someone and simply saying hello.  Salutations involve respect.  Especially in 1 Sam 25:14 the difference between David’s men “saluting” Nabal and just greeting him color how we view Nabal’s reaction—it was completely out of line if he had been saluted.

              One time the word is translated “congratulate” (1 Chron 18:10).  When do you usually congratulate someone?  When he has received an accolade or a well-deserved award.  This word involves honor.

              One time the word barak is translated “thanks.”  This word denotes gratitude and appreciation.

              Three times it is translated “kneel” or some variation of it.  That word signifies humility and submission. 

              All of these are other English words used to translate the word “bless” found in Psalm 103:1, Bless God, O my soul.  So how do we as mere mortal men bless an Eternal and Almighty God?  We show respect, we give Him honor, we appreciate the things He has done for us, and with humility we submit our lives to Him.

              Can a disobedient person bless God?  Read that last paragraph again.  No, he cannot.  Can a self-righteous person bless God?  No, not a chance in the world.  Can a half-hearted Christian, who somehow thinks there is a minimum he can do to get by bless God?  None of those things show honor, respect, gratitude, and humility. 

              Be careful before you read Psalm 103.  It demands a whole lot more than most people want to give.
 
Then David said to all the assembly, “Bless the LORD your God.” And all the assembly blessed the LORD, the God of their fathers, and bowed their heads and paid homage to the LORD and to the king, 1 Chron 29:20.
 
Dene Ward

              We live on a slope.  The grade is gradual, so gradual you don’t really see it until it rains one of those sub-tropical downpours for which Florida is famous.  When four inches comes down in less than an hour, the property becomes a river two or three inches deep flowing downhill to the run, just past the property line.

              After the rain stops, the draining continues, though it slows to three or four tributaries and eventually two larger “rivers.”  One runs through the front yard, between the bird feeders, down around the house, across the septic drain field and off the property.  Another slants southeast through the PVC pipe culvert Keith installed under the road thirty-four years ago, down the berm on the top, north, edge of the garden and on east.  

              Usually within a couple of hours most of the water has drained, but puddles still fill a few low areas, and you learn where and how to walk for the next day or two.  On sandy land, the puddles dry up quickly, unless it’s the second weekend in a row with a four inch toad strangler.

              We learned early on to avoid those low spots for several days.  We first met one of our neighbors when we asked him to pull our car out of the mud with his tractor at least three times in one week.  Two months ago, for the first time in many years, he had to come down and do it again.  I knew what had happened when, after two deluges in one week, I heard the truck engine roar and looked out the window to see the back tires spinning and mud flying ten feet behind them.

              When you are stuck in the mud, you can’t move.  The wheels may rotate but all you do is dig ruts and uproot grass.  The harder you press the accelerator, the deeper the ruts and the less you move.  Even rocking the truck back and forth becomes impossible.

              Sometimes we get stuck in the spiritual mud.  It comes first with complacency.  We are happy with what we know and where we are, so we sit down, clasp our hands, and contentedly lean back with our feet up on the desk.  Proverbs speaks of the results of being a complacent “sluggard.”  Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest; so shall your poverty come as a robber, and your want as an armed man, 24:33,34.  Tell me the same thing won’t happen when we stop working on our spirituality.

              It isn’t just a matter of continuing to learn, though that is important.  An older woman in one of my classes has expressed appreciation for the new things I teach her.  “At my age it’s hard to find something new,” she said, “but you have given me that and it’s wonderful.”  Yes, the older you are, the more difficult it should be to find something new to learn, so you certainly cannot sit back and fold your hands in slumber—you must work even harder to find those things and they will be even deeper than the “first principles,” and require yet more thought and labor.

              But it is also a matter of progress.  I see people who haven’t changed one whit in thirty years, who still fight the same battles, who still fail the same way again and again.  I see people who still gossip, who still judge unfairly, who are still oversensitive and too easily offended.  I see people who still have their priorities upside down instead of finally learning the higher value of the spiritual over the carnal.  I see people who have come no closer to mastering self-control than when they were young and foolish—they just become too weary to go at it in their old age and that is all that has moderated their passions.

              So today, check to see where you stand—or wallow.  Are you stuck in the mud of worldliness and pleasure?  Are you glued in the mire of wealth and possessions and financial security?  Are you floundering in the quagmire of man’s philosophy and false theology?  Pull yourself out and start moving again.  If you cannot do it alone, call a neighbor to help.  That’s why God put us all here together. 

              And when the storms come into your life again, use your head—stay away from the low spots.  Find the high ground of spirituality and keep on climbing. 
 
I waited patiently for Jehovah; And he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay; And he set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he has put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: Many shall see it, and fear, And shall trust in Jehovah. Psalms 40:1-3.
 
Dene Ward

I was nearly out of lotion and saw a sale--some fancy stuff for the same price as good old Lubriderm.  I stood there at the display amid way too many choices.  How do you decide between apple pomegranate, vanilla fluff, gingerbread, sugar plum, lemon twist, and blue ocean?  Well, I was afraid the last one would make me smell like salt cod so that was a no-brainer.

            I picked up the gingerbread tube and thought I would just flip open the top and give it a sniff.  Nothing.  I do have more trouble these days smelling things because of all the medications.  So I decided to give the tube a light squeeze so a puff of scented air from inside the tube would give me a better whiff. 

            Instead of air, a big glop of orange creamsicle-colored lotion shot straight into the air and arced over to the catchall shelf of sorts that I carry in front of me.  Plop!  A big orange spot appeared on my bright blue sweater. 

            Wait!  Is anyone looking?  Did anyone see?  I looked around guiltily and then, because I had nothing else with me, started wiping if off with my finger.  The sweater was dark enough and nubby enough that the spot no longer showed, but I had a big dollop of lotion to get rid of and the best I could think was to just rub it into my hands and arms.  I am sure the security people were laughing their heads off as they viewed the monitor that picked up this “I Love Lucy” moment.

            You know what?  I did not like the smell.  A friend later asked me if I had spilled machine oil all over myself.  No, just gingerbread body lotion, and I carried it about with me for a long eight hour day because I had a doctor’s appointment afterward.  Yuk!

            Let that be a lesson to you.  Sometimes we start wondering what we are missing out there in the big, bad world.  I have been good all my life—brought up “in the church,” taught to obey all authorities--parents, teachers, policemen--memorized all the no-nos for a Christian, and the scriptures to go along with them.  If all those things out there are so bad, why do so many spend their lives pursuing them?  What do they know that I don’t?  Just one little whiff is all I want.

            But that little whiff can easily become a big glop of smelly stuff that we carry with us far longer than the actual experience lasts.  Consequences can raise a big stink in your life.  In fact, they can ruin your life, and even the lives of those you love and have no desire to hurt.

            It is not a question of what those folks out there know that you don’t; it’s a question of what you know that they don’t—that sin is deceptively easy to fall into and sometimes impossible to get out of.  God will forgive you, but he will not wash away the consequences—like ruined relationships, like destroyed trust, like physical diseases or injuries, like jail time and a record that follows
you everywhere. 

            Though I did not really like it much, that little glop of lotion did not smell quite that bad when it landed on my sweater.  But as the day grew longer, it began to reek.  Sin will do exactly the same thing.
 
There is no soundness in my flesh because of your indignation; there is no health in my bones because of my sin.  For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me. My wounds stink and fester because of my foolishness, I am utterly bowed down and prostrate; all the day I go about mourning. For my sides are filled with burning, and there is no soundness in my flesh.  I confess my iniquity; I am sorry for my sin. Do not forsake me, O LORD! O my God, be not far from me! Make haste to help me, O Lord, my salvation! Selected verses from the 38th Psalm.
 
 Dene Ward

Every morning we have a special routine.  Even Chloe loves the routine. 

              She hears us moving around in the kitchen and her ears perk up under the porch.  I know because as soon as the door opens, she is out of there in a bound, up the steps, tail wagging and ears pointed to the heavens.  Her people are coming out to be with her, I am sure she thinks.  To be truthful we do enjoy our time with her too, tossing treats and watching her scamper around to find them like a fuzzy red-headed vacuum cleaner.  But the real draw is that final cup of coffee—the lazy cup, where we sit and talk and watch the morning break around us, sunbeams filtering through the eastern woods, birds fluttering around the feeders, and hawks screaming overhead.  Sometimes we are treated to a few deer creeping out of the woods, a fox snuffling through the scraps we throw over the fence, and once, a flock of eleven wild turkeys who decided all of sudden that maybe they should fly after all.  What an amazing sight that was!

              We especially love the cooler mornings of fall, winter, and spring, when we can build a fire to warm our toes while the coffee warms our innards.  The fires are growing smaller these days as time marches inexorably on and summer approaches.  Trust me, no one wants a fire in Florida after the first of May!

              One day this past winter, after Keith had gone on to an appointment in town, I picked up a small chunk of wood and threw it on for just a few more minutes of "lazy time."  I should have known from its light weight that the wood was nearly rotten.  It turned out to be not only damp, but totally saturated as well.  When I threw it on a perfectly good fire that gave off a hot and steady flame, immediately the blaze dimmed and smoke began pouring out of the wood like a thick, gray, wool blanket.  The flame gamely burned on, doing its best to keep up and catch the old log, trying to bring it to the same level of blaze.  After five minutes I knew it was a lost cause, so I grabbed the poker stick and rolled the rotten piece off the fire.  Immediately the flame increased in size, strength, and heat.  Once again my toes were warm, and the smoke had dissipated.

              And that made me wonder about me.  I am no longer a young woman.  In log terms, I am just about as old as that piece I had thrown on the fire.  So how do I affect the young Christians around me?  Am I so wet and rotten with age that all I do is dampen their enthusiasm, sending up clouds of "smoke" as I complain about their ways, about the changes in things I have grown so comfortable with that they have taken on the feel of "law" to this tradition-bound mind of mine?  And much more startling to consider, if someone rolled me off the fire and tossed me to the side, would the church be better off?

              Do I keep them from accomplishing the mission I once worked so hard for simply because they don't do it "my way" anymore?  Do I keep the light from reaching others just because I don't like the new lamps that have been chosen? 

            I can still work as an individual, using the methods and materials I am comfortable with on a personal level.  No one has any business telling an old log she doesn't matter to the Lord any more.  But surely I can avoid putting out the fire in the hearts of the next generation; surely I can encourage them as they take over the majority of the work now, cheering them on instead of stifling their enthusiasm.  This old hoary head only deserves their respect when it helps instead of hinders.
 
And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher (she was of a great age, having lived with a husband seven years from her virginity, and she had been a widow even unto fourscore and four years), who departed not from the temple, worshipping with fastings and supplications night and day .And coming up at that very hour she gave thanks unto God, and spoke of him to all them that were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. (Luke 2:36-38)
 
Dene Ward

Every Sunday afternoon I go through those colorful inserts in the Sunday paper and cut out coupons.  We don’t use much processed food beyond condiments and cereals, so I seldom clip the “hundreds of dollars worth” they brag about, but it’s always enough to pay for the paper and pull my shopping trip under budget, sometimes as much as 20%, so it’s well worth the effort.
 
             I regularly shake my head at a lot of the products I see these days.  Convenience foods have turned us into helpless klutzes in the kitchen.  Even at out of season prices I can buy a large fresh bell pepper and chop it myself into well more than a cupful for about $1, OR I can buy a measly half cup already chopped for $3 and save myself a whopping 2 minutes of chopping time at six times the cost.  Wow, she muttered, unimpressed.

              Then there is the “fun factor.”  For some reason we always need to be entertained.  As I flipped through those coupons last week, I came across a full page ad for a new cereal—“Poppin’ Pebbles,” which, I am told, offer “big berry flavor with a fantastic fizz.”  Evidently these out-fun the snap, crackle, pop of the old Rice Krispies I grew up with, judging by the amazed look on the child model’s face, her hands splayed over her cheeks in wonderment.  Now, I guess, our meals must entertain us before they are worthy to be eaten.

              Don’t think for a minute that this doesn’t reflect our spiritual attitudes.  “I can hardly listen to that man,” a sister told me once of a brother’s teaching ability.  The brother in question had one of the finest Bible minds I ever heard and regularly took a passage I thought I knew inside out and showed me something new in it, usually far deeper than its standard interpretation, one that kept me thinking for days afterward.  So what was the problem?  He didn’t tell jokes, he didn’t share cute stories or warm, fuzzy poetry.  He just talked and you had to do your part and listen—and THINK!

              Do you think they didn’t have those problems in the first century?  Pagan religion was exciting.  The fire, the spectacle, the pounding rhythms, the garish costumes, not to mention the appeal to sensuality, made it far more appealing to the masses than a quiet service of reverent, joyful a capella singing, prayers, and a simple supper memorializing a sacrifice.

              Some of those long ago brethren must have tried to bring in the fun factor.  When it came to spiritual gifts, they weren’t satisfied unless they could have the flashy ones.  The whole discussion in 1 Corinthians 12 begins with a group who thinks that their gift is the best because of that.  They have to be reminded that they all receive those gifts from the same source “as the Spirit wills” not as they will—it has nothing to do with one being better, or more necessary, than the other, or one brother being more important.

              They wanted to jazz up their services every chance they got, even speaking in tongues when an interpreter was not present.  Paul had to tell them to stop, to “be silent.”  It is not about entertainment and glory, he said, it’s about edification (1 Cor 14:26). 

              What did Paul call these people who wanted flash and show, who wanted entertainment?  In verse 14:20 he says that such behavior is childish.  In 3:1 he calls them carnal and equates that with spiritual immaturity.  Did you notice that breakfast cereal ad I mentioned is directed squarely at children?  It is assumed that when you grow up you don’t need such motivation to do what’s good for you, like eat your whole grains, and God assumes that as spiritual adults we will understand the importance of spiritual things. 

              And what about the friends we try to reach?  Do we pander to their baser instincts then expect to create an appreciation for intense Bible study, an ability to stand up to temptation, and a joyful acceptance of persecution?  When it’s no longer fun all the time, when it’s hard work and sacrifice, will they quit?

              People who want to be entertained are the same ones who want a physical kingdom here on this earth instead of the spiritual one that “is within you,” that is “not of this world.”  They are the ones who want a comedian for a preacher instead of a man of God who will teach the Word of God plainly and simply.  They want a singing group they can tap their toes to instead of songs they can sing from the heart with others who may be just as tone-deaf as they are.  Read the context.  “Singing with the spirit” is not about clapping your hands and stomping your feet to the rhythm.  It’s about teaching and growing spiritually.

              Being a Christian is always joyful, but when I believe that joy is always predicated on entertainment, I am no better than Herod who wanted Jesus to entertain him just hours before his crucifixion.  I am no better than the former pagans who tried to bring flashy rituals into the spiritual body of Christ.  I am no better than a child who needs coddling in order to behave himself. 

              Imagine what might have happened if Jesus had needed to be entertained in order to save us.
 
For it is a rebellious people, lying children, children that will not hear the law of Jehovah; that say to the seers, See not; and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto us right things, speak unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits…And for this cause God sends them a working of error, that they should believe a lie: that they all might be judged who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.  Isa 30:10,11; 2 Thes 2:11,12.
 
Dene Ward

"The number of manuscripts of the New Testament…is so large that it is practically certain that the true reading of every doubtful passage is preserved in some one or other of these ancient authorities.  This can be said of no other ancient book in the world.
              Scholars are satisfied that they possess substantially the true text of the principal Greek and Roman writers whose works have come down to us, of Sophocles, of Thucydides, of Cicero, of Virgil; yet our knowledge depends on a mere handful of manuscripts, whereas the manuscripts of the New Testament are counted by hundreds, even thousands." 

Frederic G. Kenyon, Our Bible and the Ancient Manuscripts

​The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. (Isa 40:8)

Dene Ward

I will say this as kindly as I can:  Young people, please be careful when you utter the above comment to anyone, especially anyone older than you are.  I doubt you can find an easier way to put your foot in your mouth.

              A few years ago, I was cleaning up my room after a Bible class when a gentleman who was new to the congregation came in.  I am still not sure why he chose my classroom, unless it was the only one occupied, and he was looking for an ear.  I am always happy to be an ear.  I have done it many, many times.  I am not sure I have always helped, but sometimes being the ear is all the help needed, and it's one of the easiest ways to serve another.

              This was not a particularly young man, not many years younger than I, in fact.  But he began in earnest to tell me about his mother dying the year before.  I expressed sympathy, and that encouraged him to continue on.  He had been in the room with her when she died.  He was practically crying by then.  "You just don't have any idea how traumatic it is to watch your mother die."

              I continued making the appropriate comments as sincerely as I could, and finally his tears dried and he left me.  What I did not say to him was, "Yes, I do know what it's like—my father died just six months ago and I watched him take his last breath."  It would not have helped anything, in my judgment, and I soon found out I was probably right.

              We were sitting at a potluck meal not a month later, right across from this same man.  He began to talk about an incident in the service when, as a guard, he had to hold his weapon on another man.  "You have no idea what it's like to think you might have to make the decision to shoot someone," a sentiment that was made at least twice as he reran the story again and again in the next ten minutes.

              Neither Keith nor I mentioned that, as a law enforcement officer, he had to make that decision more than once, and that he finally had to act on it the day he was ambushed by a convicted felon who was under his supervision. 

              Here is the thing, people:  you have no idea what some people have been through in their lives, unless you have known them intimately from birth.  Most mature people do not go around talking about the traumatic times in their lives unless they are trying to help someone else.  Most of the time they are happy to put that part of their lives behind them and dwell on happier times.  Be careful what you think they have or have not gone through, and therefore, what they can and cannot relate to.  In my younger years I learned several hard lessons exactly this way.  Everyone has experienced hardship and trauma, and over the years they have learned to deal with it.  My experience may not be exactly like yours, but I bet our lists look similar.

               Perhaps I am wrong, but, "You just don't know what it's like" seems to serve two purposes.  First, it garners attention.  Suddenly, you are the one everyone feels sorry for and comforts.  Everyone gathers around you and for at least a few minutes, you are the only one who matters.  Second, it gives you an instant excuse for whatever misbehavior you have done.  People will instantly overlook it because of what you have been through, "poor thing."

               But I will tell you that "what you have been through" is the most invalid excuse there is for sin.  You have someone who has been through exactly what you have.  He most certainly does know what it's like.  In fact, he came here for precisely that reason.  He changed who and what he was just so he would know what you have been through.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. (Heb 4:15).  We have a tendency to focus on the cross when we consider his sacrifice, but here is every bit as painful another one, and he suffered this one every day of his life.  Any time we use the "you just don't know" excuse out of an immature desire for attention or to cover our faults, we are belittling the sacrifice he made in the most arrogant, self-centered way possible.

               No one gets off easy in this life, not even God's children.  To expect otherwise is to deny the curses of Eden.  It's supposed to be hard because we blew it.  The only way you can say otherwise is to claim to be sinless.  You don't get Heaven until this World is over and done with.  You may get a taste of it here and there in a good marriage, great kids, and loyal brethren, but then again, you may not.

              But we all have the best help imaginable.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you... (2Cor 12:9).  "Sufficient"—enough for any need you may have. 

               None of us has reason to say, "You just don't understand" to Him.
 
Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.  For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Heb 2:17-18)
 
Dene Ward