On August 3, 1970, Mairiam Hargrave of Yorkshire, England passed her driving test.  So? you ask.  You passed yours too, I bet, and didn’t even consider it important enough to remember the date.  Why in the world would anyone remember someone else’s?  Because Mairiam passed her test on her fortieth try, that’s why. 
 
             After twenty tries she began to make the papers.  After thirty-seven she made the Guinness Book of World Records.  She kept trying and nine years after her first test, she passed.  And no, her examiner did not just take pity on her—he didn’t know anything about her previous failures until she told him, after he passed her.  This woman spent over $700 taking driving lessons.  Even though she became a laughingstock, she never gave up.

              How easily do we give up?  How many times do we have to fail before we say, “It isn’t worth it?”  If we’re talking about overcoming a sin, I hope we have the endurance of Mrs. Hargrave.  If we’re talking about praying, I hope we ask again and again.  If we’re talking about having a relationship with God, I hope persistence is our middle name.

              Remember the Syrophenician woman whose little girl was ill with a demon (Matt 15:22ff)?  The first time she approached Jesus he never even acknowledged her.  The second time he insulted her.  Yet still she kept coming and soon her great faith was rewarded.

              Remember the parable of the widow who pestered a judge to death until he finally gave her what she wanted (Luke 18:1ff)?  Just to get her off his back he relented.  Jesus’ point is if it works with an unrighteous man, surely it will work with a Holy Father. 

              Remember Paul’s admonition to the Galatians?  They seemed to be wondering if all their labor was worth it.  Paul reminded them of the law of reaping and sowing.  Sooner or later, he said, you will benefit from the good works you do.  Do not grow weary of doing good for in due season we will reap if we do not give up.  Waiting for God’s timetable may well be the most difficult thing He has asked us to do, and the greatest test of our endurance.  Don’t give up.

              The church at Ephesus may have had many faults, but the Lord does say to them, I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up for my name’s sake, and you have not grown weary, Rev 2:3.  Can He say that about us?  Or have we given up, whining about the pressures of temptation, not just bent but completely broken from the trials, deciding that being a disciple of Jesus’ simply isn’t worth the bother?

              What if He had decided you weren’t worth it?  What if he had told God that the cost was too high, that you weren’t worth the trouble, the pain, the anguish of taking on a human form and dying a hideous death after the spiritual torture of taking on every person’s sin throughout all history?  What would you say to him if you knew he had been about to quit?  How hard would you have begged him not to?

              Surely you have more grit, more tenacity, and more determination for spiritual things than a 62 year old grandmother had for a driver’s license.  Surely you won’t give up now.
             
Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted, Hebrews 12:3.
 
Dene Ward

Croquet has a long and unsure history as a game.  The things we do know even seem to be in dispute.  Sometime in the early 1850s, a woman named Mary Workman-MacNaghten, whose father was a baronet in Ireland, went to a London toy maker named Isaac Spratt, and asked him to make a croquet set.  Her family had played the game long before she was born "by tradition," which means no written set of rules, using mallets made by local carpenters.  Her brother eventually wrote down the rules they used.  Spratt made some sets and printed out those rules.  He registered his creation with the Stationers' Company in 1856, but the copyright form gives the date as August 2, 1853, plenty of time for Lewis Carroll to make the game even more famous in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
 
             When our boys were in middle school we gave them a croquet set.  At first they seemed a little disappointed—croquet?  How boring.  Then we actually started playing and they discovered strategy, like whacking your opponent completely out of bounds with one of your free shots.  Now that was fun.

              We have settled down to annual games during the holidays whenever we get together.  It is the perfect way to let the turkey digest, and we usually wind up playing two or three times.  But that time of year means a less than clear playing field on what is already a rollercoaster lawn.  Our yard, you see, isn’t exactly a lawn.  It’s an old watermelon field, and though the rows have settled somewhat after thirty-odd years, we still have low spots, gopher holes, ant hills, and armadillo mounds.  But in the fall we also have sycamore leaves the size of paper plates, pine cones, piles of Spanish moss, and cast off twigs from the windy fronts that come through every few days between October and March.  You cannot keep it cleaned up if you want to do something besides yard work with your life.  So when you swing your mallet, no matter how carefully you have aimed, you never really know where your ball will end up.  We call it “ultimate croquet.”  Anyone who is used to a tabletop green lawn would be easy pickings for one of us—even me, the perennial loser.

              All those “hazards” make for an interesting game of croquet, but let me tell you something.  I have learned the hard way that an interesting life is not that great.  I have dug ditches in a flooding rainstorm, cowered over my children during a tornado, prayed all night during a hurricane, climbed out of a totaled car, followed an ambulance all the way to the hospital, hugged a seizing baby in my lap as we drove ninety down country roads to the doctor’s office, bandaged bullet wounds, hauled drinking water and bath water for a month, signed my life away before experimental surgeries—well, you get the picture. Give me dull and routine any day. 

              Dull and routine is exactly what Paul told Timothy to pray for.  I exhort therefore, first of all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions, thanksgivings, be made for all men; for kings and all that are in high place; that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and gravity. This is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior; who would have all men to be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth, 1 Tim 2:1-5. 

              Did you catch that?  Pray that our leaders will do what is necessary for us to have a “tranquil and quiet life” so that all men can “come to a knowledge of the truth.”  God’s ministers cannot preach the gospel in a country where everyone is in hiding or running in terror from the enemy, where you never have enough security to sit down with a man and discuss something spiritual for an hour or so, where you wonder how you will feed your family that night, let alone the next day.  The Pax Romana was one of the reasons the gospel could spread—peace in the known world.  That along with the ease of travel because every country was part of the same empire and a worldwide language made the first century “the fullness of times” predicted in the prophets.

              I don’t have much sympathy for people who are easily bored, who seem to think that life must always be exciting or it isn’t worth living.  I am here to tell you that excitement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  And God gave us plenty to do during those dull, routine times.  It’s called serving others and spreading the Word.  If you want some excitement, try that.  It’s even better than Ultimate Croquet.
 
Now concerning brotherly love you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another, for that indeed is what you are doing to all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, 1 Thes 4:9-11.
 
Dene Ward