My big flower bed on the south side of the shed attracts butterflies by the score.  Every day I see both white and yellow sulfurs, tiny blue hairstreaks, huge brown and yellow swallowtails, and glorious orange monarchs and viceroys flitting from bloom to bloom.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the bloom stops and the butterfly begins amid all those big yellow black-eyed Susans, multicolored zinnias, and purple petunias. 
            But have you ever watched a butterfly?  If you and I decided to go somewhere the way a butterfly goes, it would take all day to get there.  We have a saying: “as the crow flies,” meaning a straight line course.  A butterfly couldn’t fly a straight line no matter how hard it tried—it would always fail the state trooper’s sobriety test.
            Some of us live our spiritual lives like butterflies.  We seem to think that waking up in the morning and allowing life to just “happen” is the way to go.  No wonder we don’t grow.  No wonder we fail again and again at the same temptations.  No wonder we don’t know more about the Word of God this year than last, and no wonder we can’t stand the trials of faith.
            Some folks think that going to church is the plan.  That’s why their neighbors would be surprised to find out they are Christians—Sunday is their only day of service.  Others refuse to acknowledge any weakness they need to work on.  It rankles their pride to admit they need to improve on anything, and because they won’t admit anything specific, they never do improve. 
            Some folks make their life decisions with no consideration at all for their spiritual health, or the good of the kingdom.  The stuff of this life matters the most, and only after that do they give the spiritual a thought, if at all, and it is to be dismissed if it means anything untoward for their physical comfort, convenience, status, or wealth. 
            The only plan they have for their children is their physical welfare—how they will do in school, where they will go to college, what career they will pursue.  They must get their schoolwork, but their parents don’t even know what they are studying in Bible classes, much less make sure they get their lessons.  It’s too much trouble to take them to spiritual gatherings of other young Christians.  And have you seen how much those camps cost?!  Probably less than a year’s worth of cell phone service and much less than the car they buy those same kids. 
            Where is the plan for this family’s spiritual growth?  Where is their devotion to a God they claim as Lord?  If their children do end up faithful, it will be in spite of these parents, not because of them.
            God expects us to have a plan.  The writer of the seventeenth psalm had one.  “I have purposed that my mouth will not transgress,” he says in verse 3, and then later, “I have avoided the ways of the violent, my steps have held fast to your paths,” (4b,5a).  He made a vow and he kept it.  He mapped his life out to stay away from evil and on the road to his Father.
            How are you doing as you fly through life—and it does fly, people!  Are you flitting here and there, around one bush and over another, out of the flower bed entirely once in awhile, then back in for a quick sip of nectar before heading off in whichever direction the wind blows?  Or do you have a plan, a map to get you past the pitfalls with as little danger as possible, to the necessary stops for revival and refreshing, but then straight back on the road to your next life?
            Do you know what the term social butterfly means?  It’s someone who flits from group to group.  Perhaps not so much now, but originally the term was one of ridicule.  I wonder what God would think of a spiritual butterfly who has no focus on the spiritual things of this life, but flits from one thing to other and always on a carnal whim rather than a spiritual one.  I wonder if He would decide that butterfly wouldn’t be able to appreciate an eternity of spiritual things either.

…And [Barnabas] exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose, for he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith...  Acts 11:23,24.
 
Dene Ward

You might recognize the slogan above, at least the first part of it, from the masthead of the New York Times.  It was created by then-owner Adolph Ochs in 1896, as a way of distinguishing that paper from the tabloids.  The Times was trying to reach the cultured, intellectual class as opposed to the uneducated masses (shades of John 7:49), so they attempted to set a high moral tone with this slogan.  It got them into trouble a time or two, enough that they actually ran a contest to find a better slogan, but none of the ones submitted made the cut, so there it sits, right at the top of the paper, as it has for over a century.
            Keith and I have not had the best relationship with journalists.  After an event he was involved in that made the news and rocked our lives, four local papers covered it, and none of them got it correct.  In one it was made to sound like something out of a crime drama, and in the best of them, they couldn't even get his age right—and that is a matter of public record.  Then I had a reporter call me while Keith was still incapacitated.  Naïve and trusting as I am, it took a few minutes for me to realize that his questions were designed to elicit a comment from me that would give him a scoop and make his story more sensational.  As it happens, the powers that be got hold of him and squelched the story, while I learned the value of that two word phrase, "No comment."
            So pardon me if I don't believe much that I read on the internet, or in the papers, or on the television news, during this virus outbreak and do not get as alarmed as people think I should.  I am a skeptic, and it's the media's own fault.  For example, I am not stupid so I had been following the directions that a real, certified doctor put out about how to clean the produce from the stores, only to have another story come out a few weeks later telling me that was the worst thing I could do.  That second story even had the first doctor backtracking as fast as possible in his advice.  At least the garden is coming in now, and we know not only where it comes from but who has handled it. 
            My advice to you is, don't believe everything you read.  Except for one thing:  the Word of God.  People have tried their best to discredit it, but the facts keep getting in the way.  "All we have are copies," they say, completely ignoring the fact that is all we have of many ancient writings.  Then come the numbers.  While they have changed significantly since the first apologetics scholars counted, the Bible still wins by a huge margin.  According to Dr. Josh McDowell and Dr. Clay Jones in "The Bibliographical Test—Update 8-13-2014" we have 96 copies of Thucydides' History, 109 copies of Herodotus' History, 193 copies of Sophocles' Plays, 210 copies of Plato's Tetralogies, and a bit over 1800 copies of Homer's Iliad.  Sound impressive?  Well, we have 66,362 copies of Bible manuscripts!  No one ever questions the accuracy of those secular manuscripts, so how in the world can they question the accuracy of the Bible and be logically consistent?
            In addition, the Bible was written by about 40 different authors over a period of about 1500 years, and yet it hangs together as a unified text with no contradictions.  Those who think they have found one usually wind up just showing their ignorance of that Book and embarrassing themselves.
            This just scratches the surface of the evidences for the infallibility of the Bible.  Josh McDowell is an excellent source, by the way, as well as others, including my own son Nathan, one of whose degrees is in Biblical evidences. 
            So yes, I will believe what I find in the Bible a whole lot sooner than I believe what I read or hear in the news.  I learned the hard way on that one, but God I can stake my life on, and already have.
 
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.  (Isa 55:10-11).

Dene Ward
 

I understand that the term “Southernism” refers to a trait of language or behavior that is characteristic of the South or Southerners.  I have a cookbook, Cooking Across the South compiled by Lillian Marshall, which extrapolates that definition to include certain Southern recipes, particularly older recipes.  She includes in that list things like hominy, frocking, poke sallet, and tomato gravy.  If you are from north of the Mason-Dixon Line, I am sure you are scratching your head at some of those things, wondering just what in the world they are besides strange.
            In the same vein, I wondered if we could stretch that idea to something we might call “Christianisms,” things a Christian would do that might seem peculiar to someone who isn’t one.  Like never using what the world now calls “colorful language;” like remaining calm and civil when someone mistreats you, doing, in fact, something nice for them; like not cheating on your taxes; like giving back the change that a cashier overpays you; like paying attention to the speed limit and other laws of the land even if there is not a trooper behind you; like cooking or cleaning house for an invalid; like making time for the worship on Sunday morning and arriving at the ball game late even if those tickets did cost a small fortune; like being careful of the clothing you choose to wear; like choosing not to see certain movies or watch certain television shows; like thinking that spending time with other Christians is far more enjoyable than things like “clubbing;” —these are my idea of Christianisms.  I am sure you could add more to the list.
            In the cookbook, I must admit, are many things I have never heard of, despite being a born and bred Southerner—frocking, for one.  You see I came along at a time when the South was starting to change, especially my part of it.  Disney changed everything.  Orlando used to be a one-horse town instead of the metropolis it has become.  I actually learned how to drive in Tampa on what is now I-275.  Can you imagine letting a first timer do that?  My part of the South has become less “southern” as the years have passed.  So, while I had roots in the traditions of the Deep South, I have lost familiarity with many of them.
            Wouldn’t it be a shame if we got to that point with “Christianisms?”  When you read that list I made, did you stop somewhere along the line and say, “Huh? Why would anyone do that?”  Have we allowed the “worldisms” to take the place of concepts and behaviors that ought to be second nature to us?  Can we even compose a list of things that make us different or have we become assimilated?
            Try making a list of the “Christianisms” in your life today.  Make sure you can come up with some, and if not, maybe it’s time to make a few changes.
 
Do all things without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent,  children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation,  among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life…Phil 2:14-16a.
 
Dene Ward

Have you ever seen a catbird take a bath?  I'll take that as a no, the looks I am imagining on your faces, that is.
            First let me introduce you.  He's a sleek, handsome fellow, slate gray, about 8 or 9 inches long.  A black cap perches on the crown of his head and down the back of his head, almost like a cropped mane.  His long tail has a rusty spot beneath it.  His lady friend looks the same, and they both mew like a cat, hence, the name.
            When this fellow decides he needs a bath, he plops himself into one of the water pans I put on top of the feeder posts.  Because of his size, he does better in the larger one, but I have also seen him in the one that is a good 3 inches smaller in diameter.  As large as he is, it's a wonder he doesn't fall out.  At first, he gives a little splash, then stops and looks around.  Then another splash.  Then another.  Finally, he begins in earnest, splashing so hard that the birds beneath him on the feeder get a shower while they eat.  Any sitting on the edge of the water pan run for cover.  Still he splashes.  As you watch from my seat in the house, it becomes impossible to see the bird for the amount of water splashing around him, and I know I will have to refill the pans immediately after he leaves.
            And then he stops.  You can almost see his little heart beating in that dark gray chest as he pants in recovery.  And he is soaking wet.  His feathers are plastered and dark against him, his black cap mussed and plastered as well.  When this bird has finished bathing, there is no doubt at all what he has been doing.  He is as wet as if he had immersed himself, even though the water was only a couple inches deep.
            That is exactly the way we need to immerse ourselves in our Christianity.  Going to church once a week won't do it.  Paying lip service to God won't do it.  We are expected to fill up on the Word every chance we get, talk about it, think about, study it, and espouse it when we can.  It should be second nature to mention God in our lives no matter who we are talking to.  We should be using our assemblies and other church functions as our excuse to miss worldly events, not the other way around.  In fact, we should be looking for other occasions to get together with Christians to study together and encourage one another.  That's what it means to be a disciple of Christ and a servant of the Lord.  That is the very definition of those words.  I should be so immersed in the Lord and His Word that I look as wet as a catbird to my friends, neighbors, and co-workers.  There should be no question in their minds exactly who I am because I not only claim it, I live it.  Always.
            Once upon a time you were immersed for the remission of your sins.  Now it's time for another immersion.  Do you need a bath today?
 
I have asked one thing from the LORD; it is what I desire: to dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, gazing on the beauty of the LORD and seeking Him in His temple.  (Ps 27:4).
 
Dene Ward

Over to the east side of the playing field, that portion of our property that we have kept open for baseball games, football passes, croquet set-ups and the like, stands a homemade trellis covered with climbing roses.  We have the old traditional deep red Climbing Blaze, a red-orange Blaze of Glory with blooms half again the size of the Blaze, and a yellow one whose name I have forgotten.  We picked it up at the nursery section of a home improvement store solely because its blooms were the largest I had ever seen on a climber, at least three times the size of the Blaze.
              About that yellow one—the blooms may be huge, but they are few and far between.  I doubt we get more than a dozen a year.  And they are here and gone in a flash.  You will see a bud one day, a beautiful rose the second, an overblown flower the third, and an empty limb the fourth.  Then you might wait two weeks for the next one.  Rarely will we have two yellow blooms at the same time.
              However, the first winter, Keith did not prune it exactly right, and one morning the following spring we found both a yellow and a red bloom on the same bush.  Because of his "poor" pruning job, the rootstock had put out limbs and they had bloomed too.  Those were almost the same red as the Climbing Blaze, but just a bit smaller.  So now we have four colors on three plants, ranging in size from a half dollar to a teacup.  Needless to say, we have not corrected our "mistake."
              This past April those rootstock limbs really took off.  Each five or six foot arc was covered with buds all down its length, opening at intervals so that we had a huge length of red blooms for weeks.  And these little guys last awhile—no here today, gone tomorrow for them.
              From a few feet away all you see is red, but when you step closer you begin to see the individual blooms.  Some are still buds, dark green with a tiny line of red where it will eventually open.  Some have just begun to do so, the green sepal having fallen back, but the red still folded into itself.  Some are the perfect rose, just barely open into a full bloom with intricate folds of red velvet.  Then you see the older blooms, open as wide as possible, yellow pollen showing in the middle, surrounded by a paler, almost white ring.
              Even at the same stage the blooms show differences.  Some are larger, some smaller.  Some have more petals, others fewer.  Some have petals with black "lace" around the edges—perhaps a blight of some kind.  Some are slightly malformed, opening only on one side while the other never opens at all.  But every one of them does what a rose is supposed to do, what God made it for—blooming to the best of its ability.
              That's all God expects of us, too.  In whatever condition you are, serve Him the best you can.  Even that may change due to health or age, but that doesn't give you a pass.  Some of the people who have helped me the most were the older brothers and sisters I visited, hoping to encourage them, and yet found myself encouraged as much or more by them.  People who deal with pain every day, who have trials and ordeals most of us have only read about and come through it with their faith intact and an optimistic view of their destiny, which they pass on to others through sheer enthusiasm.  They are the greatest proof that there is absolutely no excuse for sitting idle in God's kingdom.
              "But I am doing my best," so many will say to assuage their guilty feelings.  Fine.  Just understand this:  God is the one who decides what your best is, not you.  Just as his lord judged harshly the one talent man who buried his in the ground because the risks otherwise scared him, our Lord will judge harshly the one who gave up just because things got tough. 
              The Lord's kingdom is a climbing rose covered with bloom after bloom.  None of them is perfect and some look far better than others in men's eyes, but in God's eyes, the bud that blooms its head off regardless its condition, is the most beautiful one of all.
 
As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children,  (Ps 103:15-17).

Dene Ward

We live on wooded property—spreading live oaks, pencil straight slash pines, red and silver maples, fast-growing sycamores, sweet gums with their spiky balls, wild cherry and water oaks, both of which will split and fall at the least breeze.  When I walk Chloe around the perimeter I dodge fallen limbs, both deadfall and green, every ten feet or so.  Sometimes I find larger limbs that have fallen overnight, and once one fell right in my path just seconds after I had passed. 
              Often in the night, especially a windy one in the spring or fall as fronts pass through, I hear limbs hit the roof.  They are surprisingly loud and I awake expecting to find something large and heavy only to waste Keith’s time as he climbs the ladder to discover a two foot long twig no bigger around than his thumb.  It certainly sounded bigger than that!
              A few months ago, after a particularly windy winter storm, Chloe and I came upon a fallen pine limb, three feet long maybe and about two inches in diameter.  This one, though, was not lying on the ground.  The wind had cast this one with enough force that it had stuck straight into the ground through the sod.  I pulled it out and a full six inches of it was below the surface.  Imagine if that one had come hurtling through the sky at me as I walked by.
              Words are a bit like fallen limbs.  You never know who they will hit and how.  We are often just as careless as the wind in hurtling them about.  We may think the only one who hears is the one we are addressing.  We may think that everyone knows us and understands how it is meant.  We may think that what was said was perfectly innocent and completely impossible to mistake for something bad.  We may be very wrong.
              Yes, people need to listen with as much charity as we need to speak.  The Bible, particularly the wisdom literature, is full of cautions not only about how we speak but how we listen.  Even Jesus said, “Take heed how you hear.”  Hearing involves maybe as much responsibility as speaking. Do not take to heart all the things that people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. Your heart knows that many times you yourself have cursed others, Eccl 7:21,22.
              But just maybe we could stand to be a bit more careful in our speaking.  Words can hurt, and unlike physical wounds, may never heal.  What sounds like a twig to us may sound like a massive branch falling on the roof to the hearer.  And a multitude of the same kinds of words has an effect that is hard to erase.  What kinds of words do I use the most?  Praise or criticism?  Thanksgiving or complaining?  Encouragement or rebuke?  Tough love is necessary and is necessarily painful, but do I ever practice any other kind?  Are all my words, or even just the majority, “tough?”  And am I proud of having that sort of reputation?  Do people cringe when they see me coming?
              Those things I can control, but what about the things I say that are not meant to harm, but still manage to do so?  What about things I toss off without thought, directed at no one in particular, but that, like a fallen limb, accidentally come close to someone else’s heart?  Yes, for those who are mature, we can go back to the responsibility laid on hearers in that Ecclesiastes passage and in Jesus’ and the apostles’ words about being quick to judge, but what about the perfectly innocent babes?  What about young impressionable Christians? 
              If I shoot a gun into the air, the bullet will land somewhere, and my having shot it will make me accountable to the law of the land.  Will God’s law hold us any less accountable for the spiritually injured? 
 
I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned, Matt 12:36,37.
 
Dene Ward

It was absolutely necessary.  We had no choice.  My numbers had been up the past two visits, once dangerously high, so we could not afford to postpone the check-up.
              We prepared ourselves carefully. I tucked the hand sanitizer into my purse in an easily accessible side pocket.  Then Keith brought in the last two masks he had.  He keeps them on hand for working with pesticides and fertilizers, and when mowing the lawn.  Turns out they were N95s, and it was the first time we realized he had bought such good ones.  Then he grabbed a glove and a plastic bag because we would need to pick up the mail from our rural box down by the highway when we drove back in.
              When we arrived at the medical center, we donned our masks—a major ordeal for me since I am claustrophobic.  Every time that mask commercial comes on TV vaunting its ability to "keep out pollen, bacteria, and dust," I add to myself, "And air."  I could feel my pulse rising the moment I put the thing on and Keith stood next to me, rubbing my shoulders while whispering, "You can breathe, you can breathe, you can breathe." 
              We were met at the door by two masked nurses who bombarded us with questions, none of which my 90 % deaf husband could hear because their lips were covered and he had nothing to "read."  Seems no one ever thought about that problem before.  Finally they took our temperatures and sent me on to the front desk to stand on a black X, well over the required six feet away from the woman who registered me, so that we had to practically yell my information at one another to accomplish the deed.  So much for patient privacy.
              And so it continued at every phase until we finally arrived back home five hours later to wash up and sanitize once again.
              That's when it came to me.  We really do not understand the meaning of the prefix "pan."  I just looked it up to be perfectly sure.  "Involving all members of a group," I found.  We are being so very careful—staying home, wearing masks, standing six feet apart or behind sneeze guards when necessary to be together at all, perpetually washing hands, pouring out hand sanitizer like water, some greedily hoarding staples from their neighbors.  I wonder what would happen if we were that careful about the only true pandemic there is—the one that effects every single person on the planet, not just a relatively small percentage—SIN.
              What might happen if we spread the news about its contagion and the truly exorbitant fatality percentage?  What would happen if we isolated ourselves from anything that even bordered on it, anyone who carelessly sneezed it on us or our children?  Would we anxiously read up on it (in our Bibles), memorize the symptoms, and tell anyone who would listen what we had discovered?  Would we be as willing to hurt ourselves economically and socially to avoid a spiritual virus as we have these past few months to avoid a physical one?
              And what does the answer to those questions tell us about the state of our souls?  Even as the effects of this physical virus begin to wane ever so slightly, understand this:  That spiritual virus has been around far longer and has claimed the souls of the vast majority of people who have ever lived on this earth.  Now THAT'S a pandemic.
              What will you do about that today?  Aren't you even a little bit frightened?
 
…For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, (Rom 3:22-23).
 
Dene Ward

We had a storm a few days ago.  That in itself is not unusual.  Summer afternoons in Florida often include thunderstorms that go as quickly as they come.  But it reminded me of one we had a few years back, when Magdi, our first Australian cattle dog, was still alive.  It was not an ordinary storm. 
            You could hear it coming for about an hour, thunder in the distance, black clouds boiling in an increasing breeze that brought the smell of rain and ozone.  Finally the bottom fell out.  You could hardly see the bushes right outside the windows it was raining so hard.  Afterward, checks on the clock and the rain gauge would show that it rained 1.9 inches in 20 minutes.  Before long, we saw the fruit of Keith’s hours and hours of backbreaking labor, hauling dirt with a shovel and a wheelbarrow, creating a berm around the house.  It looked like we were on an island in the middle of a river, its strong current at least four inches deep as the water rushed down the slope, around the house, and toward the run to the east of us.  It would keep running nearly two hours after the rain stopped, and we drained just fine, but meanwhile I found myself humming, “The rains came down and the floods came up…”
            Suddenly lightning struck in the trees just across the fence to the north.  The clap was so loud I screamed, and even Keith, out in the shed without his hearing aids, heard it, and saw a ball of fire at the top of a pine at the same time.  He said Magdi shot out from her favorite place under the porch, eyes wide as saucers, circling here and there in the pouring rain looking for someplace safe.  He called her into the shed, normally a forbidden place, and petted her dripping and quivering sides until she calmed down.  We never saw Chloe until after the storm, but when we did, her tail was plastered down hard between her legs, the end of it curled up under her belly.  It didn’t come back up for two days.
            That reminded me of the Israelites’ reaction to God at Mt Sinai.  They were so terrified of the darkness, thunder, and lightning that they begged Moses that God would no longer speak to them.  I find Moses’ reply interesting:  Do not fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you that you may not sin, Ex 20:20.
            I think that might just be our problem.  We aren’t afraid enough any more. 
            I can remember when a certain phrase was not only forbidden in polite society, it was certainly never said on television or radio.  It was considered “taking the Lord’s name in vain.”  Now I hear it all the time, even from children.  When ten-year-olds have an abbreviation for it in their text messages, “omg,” something has been lost in our reverence for God.
            The Word of God is called a book of myths, even by people who claim to live by it, even by some who claim to be its ministers.  Religious people are pictured in fiction and drama as bigots, fanatics, hypocrites or maniacs. God, Jesus, Satan, and the struggle against sin are used as comic foils by entertainers.  When I start thinking about how far we have gone down this road, it’s a wonder to me that lightning isn’t popping around us constantly.
            We, the people of God, have even taken the concept of “the fear of God” and watered it down to the point that it means nothing more than the respect we might show our own fathers.  Isaiah, when he had seen merely a vision of God said, Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips, for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts, 6:5.  Isaiah was feeling a whole lot more than simple respect.  If there was ever a time when he could overcome sin more easily, it was probably in the weeks and months after that vision. 
            I have a feeling that if we ever stood in the presence of God we would finally understand what the fear of God is all about.  Some day we will.  I just hope it is not too late.
 
Any one who has set aside the Law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses.  How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has spurned the Son of God and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace?  For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine.  I will repay,” and again, “The Lord will judge his people.”  It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God, Heb 10:28-31.
 
Dene Ward

This is the continuation of a series begun by guest writer, Lucas Ward, in January.  Due to the two month hiatus caused by my broken computer and waiting for the part in the midst of a worldwide shutdown, you might wish to familiarize yourself with the earlier posts.  If so, just go to the right sidebar and click on the appropriate month.  The earlier posts appeared on January 15, February 17 and March 16.

It seems to me that a logical first step on the road to learning to be wise is to remove the foolishness from our lives.  So I have collected quite a bit of what Proverbs teaches about "the fool" so that we can learn what to remove from our lives and what to avoid in the future.  

The Mouth of the Fool.
Prov. 10:8  "The wise of heart will receive commandments, but a babbling fool will come to ruin."
Prov. 10:14  "The wise lay up knowledge, but the mouth of a fool brings ruin near." 
The foolish person talks incessantly.  He never learns anything because he won't shut up long enough to listen.  The wise person, on the other hand, receives, or listens to, commandments.  He lays up knowledge.  The fool who babbles eventually brings ruin because he has no knowledge.  Because he would never be quiet.
Prov. 18:2  "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion." 
Have you ever met someone who never listened to what you said but rather just waited for you to finish so he could talk?  Solomon says that kind of person is a fool.  He never learns because he never listens.  He is more interested in what he is about to say.
Prov. 14:3  "By the mouth of a fool comes a rod for his back, but the lips of the wise will preserve them." 
Prov. 18:6  "A fool's lips walk into a fight, and his mouth invites a beating." 
Prov. 18:7  "A fool's mouth is his ruin, and his lips are a snare to his soul." 
A fool is constantly in trouble because of his foolish mouth.  He receives official punishment (a rod for his back from the king) and street justice (walk into a fight).  His mouth brings him to ruin because, as a fool he can't control it and doesn't know what to say if he could control it.  If we want to avoid foolishness, we must learn to control our mouths (a proverbs lesson on that later).
 
Flaunting Folly.
Prov. 10:23  "Doing wrong is like a joke to a fool, but wisdom is pleasure to a man of understanding."
Prov. 13:16  "Every prudent man acts with knowledge, but a fool flaunts his folly." 
Prov. 14:16  "One who is wise is cautious and turns away from evil, but a fool is reckless and careless." 
Prov. 17:12  "Let a man meet a she-bear robbed of her cubs rather than a fool in his folly."
The fool refuses to think, and just acts, often with disastrous results.  He is reckless and careless and more dangerous than a she-bear separated from her cubs.  What's worse?  He laughs about the trouble he causes and wears his foolishness like a crown.   Obviously, the answer here is to think before we act.  To consider how our actions affect others (the definition of being considerate).   The prudent acts with knowledge and the wise is cautious, and that should be what we are aiming for.
 
Refuses Teaching.
Prov. 12:15  "The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice." 
Prov. 15:5  "A fool despises his father's instruction, but whoever heeds reproof is prudent." 
Prov. 17:24  "The discerning sets his face toward wisdom, but the eyes of a fool are on the ends of the earth." 
Prov. 18:2  "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion." 
There are many more passages about the fool's refusal to listen, but since we just discussed the need to listen in the previous lesson, I'm only touching on it here.  A wise man becomes wise by listening to instruction and the fool marks himself as a fool by refusing to hear teaching.  The fool thinks he is right and refuses advice.  He won't listen to his father, he is daydreaming during class and doesn't care to understand.  If we don't want to be foolish, we need to listen to the wise and consider their teachings.  It is the only way to grow.
 
Vexation of:
Prov. 12:16  "The vexation of a fool is known at once, but the prudent ignores an insult." 
Prov. 20:3  "It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife, but every fool will be quarreling." 
Prov. 27:3  "A stone is heavy, and sand is weighty, but a fool's provocation is heavier than both."
Personally, I hate Proverbs 12:16.  It hits a little too close to home.  When I am vexed, people know about it.  Solomon calls that the mark of a fool.  The prudent ignores the insult.  The honorable man keeps aloof from strife.  This is definitely one of the things I need to work on to become more wise.  To know when to ignore the insult, to avoid strife, to let things be.  The more we improve ourselves at this, the better are those around us because the fool's provocation is heavier than stones or sand and weighs down everyone near him. 
 
The first step to learning wisdom is to understand Solomon's description of fools and to try to remove that foolishness from our lives.  The less we act the fool, the greater our chance at becoming wise.
 
Lucas Ward

From my journal:
 
 Monday, June 13, 2005.
This is the big day.  “Terrified” pretty well says it all.  We began it with a prayer and that prayer continued on silently through the day for both of us. 
              Today I will undergo a surgery that has never been done successfully before, using a newly invented device that has never been used before.  If it works, my vision will be saved for awhile longer.  If it doesn’t, I will be blind in that eye.  If we don’t try it, I will be blind in both eyes, probably before the year is out.
              We arrived early, expecting a wait, but they took me straight in, after I signed some special consent forms upstairs.  Since the FDA had not approved this, “you will have to sign your life away,” the doctor told me, but what choice did I have?  I signed page after page, and then initialed some handwritten lines added along the side of the form.  One of them said, “I understand that no one knows how this material will interact with human tissue.”  Finally they sent me back downstairs to the surgical floor. 
              When the nurse called me in, Keith and I shared a long hug.  I am sure that no one else there understood why we made such a big deal out of this, but it was possible that I would never see him out of that eye again, and maybe not the other before much longer.
 
              That was quite a day and quite an experience.  I was indeed terrified.  You don’t sign your life away like that unless you are desperate, unless the only other choice is a bad one.  I did it, and it gave my left eye another year and a half of vision before we had more difficult and painful surgeries to go through, which have spared me yet again.  The right eye, the one that took the plunge first on this day in 2005, is still hanging in there.  Signing my life away has given me many more years of vision so far, years no one expected even if the surgery worked, and who knows how much more to come before the medications stop working and the shunt is compromised.
              That level of desperation is the level you must feel in your spiritual life before you will “sign your life away” to God. 
              And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison-house were shaken: and immediately all the doors were opened: and every one's bands were loosed. And the jailor, being roused out of sleep and seeing the prison doors open, drew his sword and was about to kill himself, supposing that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul cried with a loud voice, saying, Do yourself no harm: for we are all here. And he called for lights and sprang in, and, trembling for fear, fell down before Paul and Silas, and brought them out and said, Sirs, what must I do to be saved?  Acts 16:26-31.
              Do you think that jailor wasn’t terrified?  Do you think he wasn’t desperate?  Imagine how that plea sounded coming from this trembling man who thought his life was over.  “What must I do to be saved?”
              Desperate people do desperate things—like commit their lives to God.  If you never felt that desperation, chances are your commitment was not real.  Chances are you will fall when times get tough, when sacrifices are demanded, when you lose more than you bargained for.  Desperate people do not bargain.  They take the first offer and take it immediately.
              How desperate were you when you were offered salvation?  If you “grew up in the church,” you may never have felt it.  Doing what everyone expects of you is not desperation.  Wanting the approval of others, especially one particular “other” is not desperation.  “Just in case” is not desperation.  You have to recognize a need and know there is no other way of taking care of that need.  You have to know what it means to stand a sinner before a holy God—and it doesn’t mean you feel guilty because you stole a cookie from the cookie jar.  But Simon Peter, when he saw it, fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord, Luke 5:8.  That, standing a sinner before a holy God, is the recognition you must come to.
             Signing your entire life away to God is exactly what He expects of you.  So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple, Luke 14:33. Nothing and no one can be more important to you than Him.   I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me, Gal 2:20.  Your entire life is no longer yours to do with as you please, but since you know that is your only hope, you do it gladly.
              How desperate were you?  How desperate are you now?
 
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory, Col 3:1-3.
 
Dene Ward