One thing I seldom have is an unprepared student.  I don’t think it’s because my lessons are so interesting.  I don’t think it’s because they are so much fun to do.  Most of the time they take a good hour, and often more.  Yet my students show up again and again with something written down.  It may not always be what I am after, and usually that is my fault, but at least they tried and I am grateful to them for the effort. 

            Every teacher appreciates a prepared student.  If you are given something to read, then read it.  If you are given an outline, then go over it.  Make a few notes, look up the scriptures cited, and list any questions that might have risen in your mind.  The teacher may answer them in the class, but then again, s/he may not. 

            I usually write my own Bible class material, including scriptures to read and questions to answer.  I try to design questions that will lead the students to their own discoveries.  I know it has worked when they arrive excited, hardly able to contain themselves over the things have learned and the ideas they have unearthed in all that digging.  Usually those ideas are what I am aimed at, but we cannot get there if the preparation wasn’t done beforehand, and these women usually have.  If we had to spend the time on the fundamentals for the unprepared, the excitement would die in those who have done the work.  In fact, I usually continue on for the sake of the prepared.  If someone is left behind because of their own laziness, why should the others suffer?  Maybe they will do better the next time.  Sometimes being a teacher means you must make hard decisions, and sometimes it means a little discipline toward the student.  But I seldom have that problem due to these dedicated students.

            As to those who do prepare but feel like they must have missed something: it may very well be the fault of the person who wrote the material—in this case, me.  Sometimes a question is poorly worded.  I know that despite copious and careful editing, I still cannot see every way that a question might be interpreted.  So answer to the best of your ability—that’s what my ladies do.  Why should you be embarrassed if it’s the questioner’s fault and not yours?  I can guarantee you that even if you missed the point, you still learned something from reading the Word of God and thinking about it.

            But there is an even more important preparation—an open mind.  An openly skeptical student usually thinks he is keeping a teacher humble, or being careful with the truth, either of which excuses his behavior, to him anyway.  What he’s really doing is hurting himself because he is refusing to consider anything he hasn’t already learned.  Certainly a student should “beware of false teachers,” but everyone deserves a fair hearing.  Skepticism has already judged and convicted before hearing a word.  Any teacher who has spent hours preparing and dares to put himself in front of a group deserves better than that.

            Especially in an ongoing class of busy women, teachers understand when preparation time is sometimes impossible.  As a teacher whose lessons are more complicated than most, I understand better than most.  So should the student stay away if she is not prepared?

            Absolutely not.  Many have come on anyway, and for that I thank them.  If you have that open mindset, you can still learn.  They always bring a pen and listen and write.  If you have done this and still find yourself hopelessly lost, rather than delay the rest of the class, ask for a private session.  I have held those more than once, and teachers should be happy to do it.  But don’t ever deprive yourself of an hour of encouragement and exhortation with your sisters because you feel embarrassed.  Have you caught onto this yet?  Embarrassment will get in the way of your being a good student more than practically anything else.  Don’t let the Devil have his way with you.  You can still learn something, even if you have not prepared the lesson.  Your mind will be stimulated to greater understanding and insights. 

            So here is your first lesson, care of my wonderful students:  Prepare your lesson as well as you are able; prepare your mind every time.

…and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace, Eph 6:15.

Dene Ward

This year we picked our first garden produce in the middle of May.  Finding that first inch long green bean hiding among the thick spade-shaped foliage gives you a thrill, but seeing the first shiny green silks spewing out of the corn shucks and the tassels creeping out of the top positively makes your mouth water.  When it has been nearly a year since sinking your teeth into a row of crisp, juicy, buttered and salted kernels, the anticipation is intense.

            If you are not a gardener you might not truly appreciate the sacrifice of the firstfruits under the Old Law.  Every gardener knows that the first picking is the best.  As time passes, the corn and beans toughen.  The tomatoes and peppers become smaller and smaller and rot more quickly from the many blemishes.  The cucumbers turn yellow and overblown before they reach their full length.  Yet we have the frozen food section at the grocery store and a produce section that brings food from places where the firstfruits are just appearing.  Many of us have never seen anything but the firstfruits.

            I’ve often heard that certain frozen and canned vegetables are more reliably good than the fresh.  They are picked at their peak and processed within hours.  We can have the best any time of the year, and we take it for granted.  The devout Israelite never had that opportunity.  It was ingrained in him from birth:  the best belongs to the Lord.

            All the best of the oil, and all the best of the vintage, and of the grain, the first-fruits of them which they give unto Jehovah...The first-ripe fruits of all that is in their land, which they bring unto Jehovah… (Numbers 18:12-13)

            As a dedicated Hebrew watched his crops grow, his cattle bear, his vines hang lower and lower with the heaviness of ripening fruit, he knew that the best would not be for him, but an offering to the Lord.

            And this shall be the priests' due from the people, from them that offer a sacrifice, whether it be ox or sheep, that they shall give unto the priest the shoulder, and the two cheeks, and the maw. The first-fruits of your grain, of your new wine, and of your oil, and the first of the fleece of your sheep, shall you give him. For Jehovah your God has chosen him out of all your tribes, to stand to minister in the name of Jehovah, him and his sons forever. Deuteronomy 18:3-5.

            The pious Israelite knew that the best of the fruits of his labor would be eaten not by his family, but by Jehovah’s priests, his representatives on earth. 

            The first of the first-fruits of your ground you shall bring into the house of Jehovah your God. Exodus 23:19.

            Not just the firstfruits, but the first of the firstfruits—the best of the best—was required in his service to God.

            Most of us have learned that our weekly contribution of money must be “purposed” (2 Cor 9:7).  But we haven’t learned to apply that axiom to every aspect of our lives.  Too often God gets nothing but our leftover time, our leftover energy, our leftover effort.  I’ve heard Christian talk about exercising when their bodies are at their peaks, about avoiding certain times of the day for important work, about matching body rhythms to tasks.  Do we ever talk like that our about service to God?  Do we offer service that is well planned, organized for maximum efficiency, and timed for greatest effect?  Yes, we often talk about caring for our temples (bodies) so we can use them for God, but then we use all that energy for everything else instead and still God gets the leftovers.

            The principle of the firstfruits was so important the Hezekiah included it in his great restoration (2 Chron 31:5).  It was deemed so necessary to a true attitude of worship that Nehemiah charged the returning exiles to keep those ordinances in particular ( Neh 10:35-39).

            We sing a hymn:  “Give of Your Best to the Master.”  That principle has not changed.  In fact, we are the firstfruits (James 1:18), “brought forth by the word of truth.”  As such, God expects us to give ourselves.  If we do, the rest will follow.  If it hasn’t, maybe we need to take a closer look at our “devotion.”

…but they first gave themselves to God…2 Cor 8:5.                                     

Dene Ward                                                           

            Now that it has become more dangerous, I don’t walk with the dogs for exercise any longer.  I trip over too many invisible roots, step in too many hidden holes, roll along on too many sneaky little pine cones, and therefore either fall or come close too many times a week.  Then there are the snakes with their natural camouflage.  I wouldn’t see one before it struck.

            So Keith has bought me an elliptical machine.  Actually this gadget is pretty neat.  It tells me how many miles I have gone and how many calories I have burned, which is a little disappointing.  Oh, for a workout that burns 500 calories in 20 minutes without making you feel like you might die any second!

            But it’s not the same as walking outside.  I miss the fresh air, the waves of wildflower colors in the field, the butterflies flitting across my path, the scent of jasmine wafting along in the breeze.  I miss my little furry companions romping on ahead of this tortoise of a human.  I will say this for the machine, though—it is a lot closer to the five mile jog I did some twenty-five years ago than the three mile stroll I have taken with the dogs in the past few years.  Whew!

            The apostle John called life a walk with God.  If we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, 1 John 1:7.  Enoch and Noah both walked with God in a faithful life, Gen 5:22; 6:9.  Paul tells us The Lord is at hand, Phil 4:5.  It does help us get through our trials to know he is with us constantly as we go. 

            Sometimes though we act like this walk is what matters the most.  It isn’t.  This life is the elliptical machine, not the real walk. 

            Similarly, we often make our lives the destination instead of the walk.  We forget that life is just a motel room as we make the trek.  Maybe some of us have circumstances in life that make our temporary inn an upscale model, but it is still just that—temporary.  You don’t put down roots in a Motel 6.  You don’t even put down roots in a Hilton.  You certainly don’t file a change of address with the post office.  And so our roots are not on this earth.

            God wants this life to be good, but we need to remember that no matter how well life here may be going, it is still not the one that matters.  There is another walk coming, a walk that is not a journey at all, but a permanent home in a paradise where God will once again visit his people just like He used to every evening in that original home he made.  We make this walk every day, so we can take that one forever.

Yet you still have a few names in Sardis, people who have not soiled their garments, and they will walk with me in white for they are worthy.  The one who conquers will be clothed thus in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the Book of Life.  I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels, Rev 3:3,4.

Dene Ward

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My largest flower bed, a couple of hundred square feet, is about 75% volunteers.  Every year I plant a couple of new things, but by and large the plot reseeds itself with black-eyed Susans, zinnias, marigolds, and Mexican petunias.  Instead of planned formality it becomes a riot of color—orange, red, rust, pink, burgundy, purple, white, and tons of yellow.  About the first of June it is at its best, and has even been featured in the photos of friends and family.

            The black-eyed Susans have a way of coming up just about anywhere—in the field, in the yard, up by the gate, around the bird feeders.  I never know where one will shoot up during any given spring. A shallow ditch runs along the west side of my large riotous flower bed.  This year that ditch was full of black-eyed Susans—even more than in the bed.

            As the spring progressed, that ditch also became full of weeds and grass.  I spent over an hour one morning cleaning it out.  Along with it went some of those pretty, brown-centered, yellow flowers.  I thought about it long and hard, but I knew this:  those weeds would just get more and more entrenched and eventually choke out the flowers anyway.  And even if they didn’t, the flowers would just call attention to the tall grass around them, and all anyone would think would be, “Ugh.”  So I transplanted what I could back into the bed, hoping they would survive the rough treatment of having grass roots pulled out from among their own, and then just chopped out the rest along with all the weeds.  It’s not like I didn’t have a plethora of them anyway.  They are all over the property.

            Which brings me to this:  what we often think of as beauty can be completely overwhelmed by ugliness.  Why can’t our young men see that a beautiful young girl is anything but beautiful when she acts like a trollop and dresses like a harlot?  Why can’t a young woman see that a handsome young man spoils those good looks with the filthy words that come out of his mouth and the intemperate behavior of a drunk, or a lecher, or anything else he allows to control his life?  Why don’t they understand that if they are only attracted by outward beauty, their values are as shallow as a drop of water on a hot griddle, and just as likely to evaporate?  Maybe because we haven’t taught them any better.

            Many years ago I stood in the receiving line at a wedding and heard a few feet away a woman who claimed to be a Christian saying, “He’s such a good looking young man.  It’s a shame he couldn’t find someone prettier.”  Never mind the young bride in question had a beautiful and loving character, she wasn’t pretty enough on the outside.

            I have heard women getting excited over a new dress or a new pair of shoes and then bored about a conversion.  I have seen men eagerly discussing cars or guns or sports, and turning away in apathy at a spiritual discussion.  I have seen people happy to discuss their misfortunes to anyone who will listen, while ignoring their blessings.  Do you think our children don’t see these examples?

            We teach them what to care most about, and they follow our examples all through their lives.  If I want my child to develop a deep relationship with God, then it’s time I had one myself.

            Tell your children what true beauty is, and then show them.  Make yourself beautiful with your good works, with your kind demeanor, with your loving spirit.  If you don’t, they may never learn what constitutes true beauty until they are mired in a horrible relationship that eventually ruins their lives.  The flowers in the ditch may be beautiful, but is that really where you want them to spend their lives?

           

Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman with no discretion, Prov 11:22.

Dene Ward

After one of my several eye surgeries I was actually examined by two veterinarians.  Remember, I am one of the prime teaching tools at the University of Florida Medical School.  These young Dr Doolittles were doing research in pain.  Their patients cannot tell them how they feel, so they were visiting human post-op cases to ask how they felt after various types of surgery.  It was the only way to know how the animals were feeling.

            My doctor took them to three different patients, an easy case, a moderate case, and then me—the extreme.  I answered their questions with accompanying explanations by my physician, shook their hands, and on they went.  Maybe some child’s pet bunny rabbit will have an easier time of it because of a ten minute delay in my own case—and putting up with a few jokes afterward.

            Isn’t that what Jesus did for us?  Well, no, not exactly.  Instead of asking a few questions, he went through the surgery himself.  How else was Deity to understand temptation, fear, pain, anguish, sorrow, desperation, or even relatively petty things like hunger, thirst, and weariness?  He did it when he counted not being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, Phil 2:6.  He did it by being tempted in all points like we are, Heb 4:15.  It was really the only way.

            And now He knows.  Now He can tell His Father in words Deity can understand what it is like to be human.   Then He can turn around and tell us how to overcome, how to persevere, how to be faithful even to the point of death, Rev 2:10 because he understands our problems too.

            Don’t make His sacrifice be for nothing.

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  This same was in the beginning with God.  All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.  And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth, John 1:1-3, 14.

Dene Ward

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I taught my first Bible class when I was sixteen and an elder pulled me out of the high school class because the third grade teacher hadn’t shown up.  I had no material and no prep time.  Why he chose me when there were plenty of able-bodied adults in a congregation of 150, I still don’t know, but the children and I got through the ten plagues with a combination of raucous laughter and wide-eyed amazement—them at God’s power, and me at having survived those forty-five minutes.

            I’ve been teaching ever since, from the baby class when mine were that size—and don’t let anyone tell you a one year old can’t learn anything—all the way up to middle school—another place we seriously underestimate the capabilities of our children.  I wrote a workbook for them called “Did You Ever Wonder?” exploring all those things you wonder about in Bible class but are afraid to ask.  It was given to someone else to teach once, who said, “There’s no way these kids will get this,” even after I had taught it twice myself.  So the book came back to me and I taught it yet again to a group who “got” every bit of it. 

            I’ve taught at least one women’s class everywhere I have been.  That’s a group not only underestimated, but which often underestimates itself.  Most of the material for women, a sister I recently met said, is “spun sugar.”  In some places women’s studies are limited to being a good wife and mother, which leaves a lot of women out.  Yes, those things ought to be taught, and recently have not been.  It has become too popular to follow the mainstream media and disparage the men, which is exactly why I have written a study for wives.  It too is deeper than the standard work on the subject, because women can dig just as deeply as the men.  Their minds are just as capable of complex reasoning.  They must be or they couldn’t run their homes.  That’s exactly who I cater to in my classes—meat eaters who are tired of milk, or even the glorified milk called custard.  Women are not spiritual invalids.

            I have had to drop my children’s classes since 2005.  Children need dependable continuity, and with my health issues and increasing disability, I cannot be counted on.  Adults can understand if an emergency arises, if a weak body just cannot manage on a particular day, or if a medication wreaks havoc instead of comfort.  Children can’t.  I nearly cried when a recent group graduated that I had never taught.  But such is life; things change, and most of the time people get along just fine without you.

            Along the way I have had some wonderful students, and it seemed good to tell you about them, so they will get the thanks they deserve, but also so you can learn from them yourselves how to be a good Bible class student.  Don’t think that this is self-serving.  By emulating these women, you will get far more out of your classes, and so will your classmates.  People who disrupt classes, even accidentally, are hindering others, not helping, and we all know how Jesus felt about people who cast stumbling blocks in front of others, particularly the babes. 

            So please join me for the next few Mondays.  I hope what you learn from these remarkable women will help far beyond these few weeks.

Help me to understand what your precepts mean.  Then I can meditate on your marvelous teachings, Psalm 119:27, NET.

Dene Ward

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            Shortly after this latest surgery, when I had grown weary of sitting in a dark house alone day after day, I donned a couple of pairs of sunglasses, one on top of the other, and a hat with a broad visor, picked up my walking sticks, and stepped outside.  It was still morning so as long as I faced west, the light was tolerable.

            The dogs heard me coming and met me at the door, bumping each other out of the way vying for the first pat, tails wagging so hard and fast they might have been declared lethal weapons.  When they saw my intent to head out into the open, they took off in that direction, Magdi stiffly romping, an old dog briefly reminded of her youth, and Chloe ripping circles around her, leaving skid marks in the grass.

            Right after an eye surgery, the operated-on eye sees nothing but a blur of color for a few weeks.  Although the two eyes are separate entities, each with its own plumbing and wiring systems, the other eye experiences some “sympathy pains” and its vision is not as clear as usual either.  While I could miss the furniture, so to speak, details were difficult.  As far as I could tell there were no individual blooms on the crape myrtles—each was simply one big blotch of color.  There were no leaves on the trees—they were just big puffs of green, exactly the way a child would draw them.  There were no individual blades of grass—the ground was just painted green, except way out in the field where someone had spilled a bucket of yellow paint.

            I headed for that spot, my two bodyguard/playmates scampering around ahead and behind, sniffing up grasshoppers the size of mascara tubes.  Our ten paws were soon soaked with dew and breaded with sand. When I got close enough to see my beautiful spot of bright yellow and knelt down, it was a thick oval patch of dandelion blooms about ten feet by six feet, between the mown field and the back fence.  Dandelions!  I laughed out loud.   My spot of beauty was what most people consider bothersome weeds.  There ought to be a lesson here, I thought, and maybe this is it.

            Not many of us are long stemmed red roses in God’s garden, let alone rare and delicate orchids.  I have met some fresh-faced petunias whose sincerity is obvious, some formal and well-dressed gladioli who can stand before a crowd and speak without fear, some pleasant and reliable carnations who seem able to function in practically any situation, and some sturdy daisies with a lot of staying power.  But some of us are just dandelions, not very popular, not very talented, all too soon developing a cap of fuzzy gray hair.  So do we use that as our excuse?

            Do we sit back and wait for those other blooms to catch everyone’s attention and take care of the business at hand?  Do we still do nothing, even those times in our lives when we are the only blossom in a field full of tares and thistles?  Even a dandelion looks pretty good there.

            That little patch of dandelions gave me the first real laugh I’d had in weeks.  It got me out of a dark, lonely house into a world of sunlight (safely at my back), and a cool breeze filled with birdsong.  My soul recovered more in five minutes than my body had in the whole week before.  What might my day have been like without those humble little plants?

            God has a place for all of us and he won’t accept excuses for doing nothing.  It doesn’t matter if someone else is better known, better liked, or even a whole lot more able, especially if those someones are not present when a need arises.  Stop looking at yourself and look around you—self-absorption never accomplished anything. 

            God is the owner of this garden and He doesn’t mind a dandelion or two.  In fact, it seems like He made more of them than any other flower.

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might, for there is no work nor thought nor knowledge nor wisdom in Sheol to which you are going, Eccl 9:10.

Dene Ward

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            That is exactly what our lungs are—hot air balloons.  Most of the time we only use a small amount of their capacity.  That is why taking a deep breath can have such a profound effect.  We are not used to having that much oxygen in our systems all at once.  I have heard that when a person actually begins to use his lungs to their capacity, those who have not smoked in years are suddenly expelling it.  It sat at the bottom of their lungs all that time.  I don’t know if that is true, but I would not be surprised.

            When teaching voice lessons, one of the biggest challenges is to teach people how to breathe, and then how to manage all that air.  Taking a deep breath will not accomplish a thing if you just whoosh it all out with the first note you sing.  If you take too big a breath, you will not be able to control how much you let out at once.  Because you have filled to capacity, the minute you apply any pressure at all with your diaphragm, you will lose close to half of it on the first word.  It is far better to fill to about 90%--you will still have far more than you are used to having.  You will also have the ability to mete out what you need and sing all the way through a phrase without gasping for air in front of your audience.

            When I thought about that, suddenly I understood a word I had been ignoring in one of those oft-quoted passages:  for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, Matt 12:34.  We usually just say, “You can’t speak what you don’t feel,” which may be true, but it is possible to have things come out in ways you never intended at all. 

            I remember riding to a gospel meeting with another couple many years ago.  I was in the backseat with the other woman, while Keith sat up front with the man.  Motion sickness can hit me at the drop of a hat.  I tried to be polite and actually look at the woman whenever I spoke to her, but that looking back and forth to the side, all that scenery rushing past behind her head, along with the larger sense of lateral sway in the backseat, was taking a toll on me.  Finally I said, “I’m sorry.  I just can’t look at you any more; it’s making me sick.”

            You see what I mean.  Sometimes the bad things that come out of your mouth are perfectly innocent. 

            But Jesus said, “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.”  Aha!  I looked up that word.  It’s a nice long Greek word, also translated, “remain,” as in something that remains over and above what is needed.  In Matthew 14, Jesus fed 5000 people with five loaves and two fish.  He not only fed them, but he fed them so abundantly that they all ate and were filled and they took up that which remained (that long Greek word) of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full, v12.  The word is also translated “exceed,” “enough and to spare,” and “abound,” as in the grace of God…abounds to the many, Romans 5:15.  How much grace do you want God to give you?  I hope he gives me more than just barely enough, and the use of this word proves it will be plenty.

            So what comes out of my heart is what I stuff it with, what I cram in there every day, filling it to the brim and overflowing.  And, just like when I take too deep a breath and the pressure from my diaphragm makes too much air gush out all at once, when I am under pressure, what I have crammed into my heart is what will come out.  Is it bitterness for what I have had to endure?  Anger at God for the trials he allows?  Resentment of everything and everyone because of how my life has turned out?  Or is it love, humility, kindness, generosity, contentment, and faith?  

            Whatever it is, there is no denying what I have been storing away when all of a sudden it bursts upon the scene in a gust of hot air. 

Whoever winks the eye causes trouble, but a babbling fool will come to ruin.  The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but the mouth of the wicked conceals violence.   When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent.  The tongue of the righteous is choice silver; the heart of the wicked is of little worth.  The lips of the righteous feed many, but fools die for the lack of sense, Prov 10:10, 11, 19-21.

Dene Ward

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Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward

Somehow Dene and I were talking about the figurative language God uses to describe heaven and she said that a 4th grader once told her in a class that it seemed to her that all you did in heaven was more church, sitting around and singing all the time and she was not sure she wanted to do that forever. Her point was that we need to use figures and expressions of heaven that give our children a real hope, a motivating hope, not something to dread like having to sit still in church. Of course, the picture will need to be changed as the children grow older. But, is there anything sacrilegious about saying heaven is like playing with the puppy all day, or Disney World where you never get tired and there are no lines, or a favorite game, or gameboy?

Before you react, consider the silliness of God’s picture, but it still communicated something to hope for to motivate those people through persecution. A city with walls so high and thick as to be absolutely impregnable communicated the hope of security and safety to people who rarely enjoyed much of either. But, then, the gates never closed! What security is there in that? And, I doubt gates of pearl would be much good against battering rams anyhow. But, the awesome beauty attracts a lively hope.

Or, streets of gold. To people who lived day to day, often unsure of their next meal, just think how much food there would be in a city where they could afford to use gold for paving. What a stable economy. Wouldn’t the housing be sumptuous?

And the tree of life bearing 12 manner of fruit, yielding its fruit in every month. But how are there months in a place where there is neither sun nor moon but God is its light? But, for those in fear of disease and death, a picture of a constant and flavorful source of life motivated them to try a littler harder to overcome.

A lack of focus on hope has made our service lifeless and gutted our attempts to change and to grow.

Our purity has become less than it ought to be, less possible, less a concern because we are living on outdated figures of heaven that provide no motivation to us. If heaven means a garden with no weeds or diseases and no off season, dream on. If it is flying like a bird, singing beautifully, running with the wind, hearing the music that is beautiful beyond all the composers, if it is plenty, security, health in whatever terms you dream, then dream on and gird up the loins of your mind to make your heart sing and your life pure to be worthy of the sacrifice that made your dreams possible.
 

Keith Ward

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            Did you notice the tops that fashionable young women began wearing a few years ago?  I have seen them before, and worn them—thirty years ago when I was pregnant.  They look like nothing more than maternity smocks.  I had only three maternity tops and three maternity dresses, so they wore out their welcome in a hurry.  Besides, like most women, I thought they made me look like a whale.  It’s safe to say I won’t be buying any tops till this style changes.  I will say this about them, though.  They were better than the last fad—tops so short, yet cut so low they practically met in the middle, and tight enough to double as corsets.

            Then there are the men’s pants that seem to stay up by magic.  I saw a teenager bussing tables at a restaurant a few months ago whose belt was literally around his thighs, the crotch of his khaki pants suspended between his knees, and the bulk of the legs bunched up above his ankles like a squeezed accordion.  He walked with the mincing steps of a woman in a long tight skirt.  If my schedule had allowed that day, I would have dallied over my coffee until his shift ended, just so I could see how he managed to get down the steps outside the door.

            But have you noticed this about style?  It doesn’t change; it just rotates around the circle.  Young people have been wearing the same hip-hugging wide-legged pants my generation wore as teenagers, and they think it’s new.  The capris women have worn the past few years are the pedal pushers we wore in the 50s and 60s.  I guess it’s true that you should never throw anything away because it will eventually come back into style.

            God’s word, however, never goes out of style.  Oh, believing it and living by it goes out of style.  That’s not the point.  Some clothing styles are called “classic” because they always work—they look nice, they’re comfortable, practical and always appropriate.  Doesn’t that describe God’s word?  If everyone lived by it, think how much better this world would be.

            Just a small “for instance:” twenty percent of American adults now have genital herpes.  That’s 1 in 5, folks.  Talk about an epidemic.  And why?  Because people do not want to live God’s way—one man for one woman for one lifetime. 

            One million cases of pelvic inflammatory disease occur annually. There are more cases of syphilis now than at any time since the discovery of penicillin.  1.3 million new cases of gonorrhea surface every year, as well as four million cases of Chlamydia.  And these statistics are over ten years out of date.  Imagine what it’s like now.  A medical investigation done at UC Berkley discovered that 47% of the female students there carried the human papilloma virus. 

            And why has all this happened?  Because it is now out of style to teach your children self-control, to wait for marriage—in other words, God’s way of doing things.  Instead, society teaches them the lie called “safe sex.”  If promiscuity were so safe, how could I find figures like these?

            This is something we need to remember every day.  If anyone should know how to make our lives here happy, shouldn’t the One who made us?  Do you realize that the laws God set down in the Old Testament put the ancient Jews thousands of years ahead of their time in public health and sanitation?  Don’t you get it?  In any situation you can imagine, handling things God’s way is safer, healthier, and happier in the long run.  All this, and Heaven too.  Indeed, Father knows best.

Let your steadfast love come to me, O Lord, your salvation according to your promise; then shall I have an answer to him who taunts me for I trust in your Word.  And take not the word of truth utterly out of my mouth, for my hope is in your rules.  I will keep your law continually forever and ever, and I shall walk in a wide place for I have sought your precepts.  I shall speak of your testimonies before kings and shall not be put to shame, for I find my delight in your commandments which I love.  I shall lift up my hands to your commandments, which I love, and I will meditate on your statutes, Psa 119:41-48.

Dene Ward