If you were to ask the boys what their dog’s name was, they would name Bart, the big yellow lab.  Bart was born in our dog pen when they were 10 and 12, and all three of them grew up together.  Eleven years later, when we finally had to put him down, it was a sad day for all of us, but Lucas put it most succinctly when I asked how he was. “Today my dog died.”  It did not matter that we already had another one.  It did not matter that we had one when he was three, who lived five years, nor did it matter that we had Bart’s mother nearly as long as we had him.  Bart was the one they played with, the one they rolled around on the ground with, the one they hiked through the woods with, the one they lay their heads on in the field when they were gazing up into the sky at the clouds, talking, dreaming, and planning their lives.

Bart was a good dog, sweet and lovable, and I knew my boys were safe with him.  But he was hands down the dumbest dog we ever had.  Even his mother (his dog-mother, not me!) got a kick out of tricking him. 

Once we laid out a pan of rib bones for them both.  If Bart saw anything come out of the house in our hands, he immediately thought it was good food, and usually wolfed it down before he could possibly have tasted it.  His mother was well aware of that.  As soon as we laid down that pan, she stood up with her ears pricked, and started running down the drive barking.  Bart, of course, fell in step beside her and, being bigger with longer legs, soon outran her, heading for the gate, a couple hundred yards away.  His mother stopped and watched to make sure he was still going all out to get the nonexistent boogey man, then calmly walked back to the pan of ribs.  By the time Bart figured it out and came back, Mom had had her fill and she left the remainder for her “little boy” to finish up, which he did in about thirty seconds.  He never really seemed to understand what she had done to him, even though we all stood there laughing until our sides nearly split open.

That was Bart for you.  Once I threw out some sweet potato skins just to see what would happen.  He gulped down three of the four before he realized he didn’t like them and quit.  Lucas, who could go through a quart jar of my dill pickles in two sittings, once poured the leftover brine into a bowl and took it outside.  I am sure this was not just his idea.  His little brother seems to be the prankster in the family, and I do recall that Nathan was out there watching too, laughing the most as Bart slurped up about a cupful of the salty, vinegary concoction.  He finally stopped and looked at what he was drinking.  The worst part was that he also looked at the boys like he was thinking, “You gave this to me, so it must be good.  Why don’t I like it?”  Instant guilt trip!  

And then there was the time I threw some trash into the burn barrel and lit it.  Bart was so sure it must be good food that he licked the side of that red hot barrel, as I was frantically screaming, “No!”  He ran around in circles trying to make his tongue stop burning.  I gave him some cold water to drink, but I doubt he really quit hurting for a day or two.

And that is exactly how we do with sin.  Our friends are involved in it; society accepts it; it must be okay, and we wolf it down without a second thought.  So why is my life falling apart?  Why do I feel so bad about what I am doing?  It cannot possibly be that this stuff does not taste as good as everyone says it does.  Are we being as gullible as that big dumb yellow lab of ours?  The answer is probably yes.  Unfortunately, we sometimes don’t even have the sense he did to finally realize sin does not taste that good and quit.  And also unfortunately, one can develop a taste for things that really don’t taste very good at all.  And sooner or later our tongues will be burned on the garbage we have tried to ingest into our souls. 

God does have your good at heart.  He will not play any tricks on you.  Listen to what He says about how to live your life, and you will find that everything will taste a whole lot better.

Oh taste and see that Jehovah is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.  Oh fear Jehovah, you his saints, for there is no want in those who fear him.  The young lions lack and suffer hunger, but those who seek Jehovah shall not want for any good thing, Psa 34:  8-10.

Dene Ward

I just spent twenty minutes trying to get 84 acid reducing pills out of six blister packs so I wouldn’t have to do it every morning for the next 7 weeks.  What is it with these manufacturers?  You would think they would want you to try their medication, not give up in frustration, throw the whole thing away, and use another.  Or maybe it’s meant to be self-perpetuating:  the more aggravated you get, the more acid your stomach produces, and the more you need their pills.

I have an issue with childproof caps too—about the only ones they keep out of the bottle are those of us with arthritic hands.  And CD and DVD packages?  How many times have I cut myself on them and, with this aspirin-a-day regimen, bled all over everything before I even knew I had done it?

Manufacturers who don’t want you to use their products—sounds strange doesn’t it?  What about that branch of theology that says that God doesn’t want to save everyone, that Jesus died for only the ones He does want to save, and that no matter what you do or how you feel about it, there is nothing you can do to change that?  Let me show you why I have a problem with that.

Say to them, As I live, declares the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, O house of Israel? Ezekiel 33:11

This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth, 1 Timothy 2:3-4.

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, Titus 2:11

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance, 2 Peter 3:9.

God does want us to be saved, as many as are willing to live by his Word.  Jesus died for all, not just those lucky few.  You can make a difference in your own salvation, “turn back from your evil ways,” “come to a knowledge of the truth,” and “reach repentance.”

Praise God that He loves us and wants us with Him for Eternity.  Praise God that salvation does not come in a blister pack.

For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised, 2 Corinthians 5:14-15).

Dene Ward

I picked up the phone and within ten seconds wished I hadn’t.  I was a new bride and it was my first experience with a telemarketer. I couldn’t fathom someone who had an answer for every reason to say “No.” 

I’d been taught to always be polite so as long as he talked I listened.  Finally I said, “I couldn’t spend this much money without talking to my husband first anyway.”

Yes, he even had an answer for that one.  “Don’t you think it’s about time you learned how to make decisions on your own?”

He had finally gone too far.  “How we run our marriage is our business, not yours,” I replied and hung up.  He found out in short order that my acceptance of my husband’s authority didn’t mean I was spineless.

Too many women today seem to think it does, and worse, care far too much about what other people think about them.  I feel the same way about that as I do about men who won’t help with child care and housework because, “That’s woman’s work.”  Shakespeare put it best:  “Methinks thou doth protest too much.”  It takes strength to submit; weakness cannot overcome the natural tendency to want attention and power.

Sarah comes to mind.  In a misguided attempt to help God fulfill his promises to Abraham, she and Abraham arranged a surrogate mother.  Hagar was “her handmaid,” Gen 16:1,3, a personal servant of Sarah’s, not a simple slave girl who would have been under Abraham’s authority (Growth of the Seed, Nathan Ward).  When Hagar’s attitude toward Sarah eroded into hateful disrespect—“her mistress became despised in her eyes” v 4—Sarah was ready to throw her out.  At that time, in that culture, Hagar as her handmaid was her business, not Abraham’s.  Yet Sarah, in her submission as a wife, still went to Abraham first.  Even he said, “Behold, your maid is in your hands.  Do what you think is best,” v 6.

Please note, the surrogacy arrangement did not change Hagar’s status.  She is still called “handmaid” by the writer and by God (21:12), and the angel of Jehovah told her she was wrong to have fled, that the right thing was to return to her mistress (16:7-9), just as it was for Onesimus to return to Philemon.  Sarah did not have to ask Abraham for permission, but she went the extra mile in her submission to him.

So how am I doing at this submission business?  Do my friends know that my husband is the head of the house, or would they throw their heads back in gales of laughter at the very thought?  Am I embarrassed to say, “I need to talk with my husband,” before making a major decision?

Even the New Testament recognizes that a woman has a realm of authority in the home.  Widows are to remarry and “rule the household,” 1 Tim 5:14.  That word “rule” is not the same Greek word as the one in 3:4, elders should “rule well their own household.”  The word in 5:14 is one that means “manage [the home specifically] under a master.”  Just as the store manager does not expect to be micromanaged by the owner of the business, he still understands that he must ultimately answer to that owner.  Would anyone expect otherwise?

It is time to stop being cowed by our increasingly godless culture, afraid to admit that we actually believe what the Bible says about unpopular things.  The next time someone insults you for your voluntary subjection to your husband, show them just how much spine you do have.

For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening, 1 Peter 3:5-6

Dene Ward

Today I am participating in a round robin blogswap between several Christian women.  The following post is by Helene Smith.  My post for the day will appear on Katharine Palmer's blog at www.homemadetatertot.blogspot.com

Do you listen to God?  I don’t mean has a small still voice ever whispered in your ear.  I’m not even asking if you pay attention when your preacher’s up front talking away.  I mean- listen.  Like, “Listen to your Mama!” or “Girl, you are not listening!”  When we tell our kids to listen we really mean hear my meaning and obey me.  So let me ask again, do you listen to God?

I’m a terrible listener.  Terrible. 

In recent days my husband and I faced a tough decision.  Really there was nothing to “decide” because we knew what we ought to do.  We should be responsible, have integrity, do what we promised.  It was crystal clear. We knew what was right. What was not so obvious was how we were going to manage it.  Because we sure didn’t want to.

God needed to get my attention and I did not want to listen.

That’s a very dangerous moment and I well knew it.  I pouted.  I groused.  I even cried.  I finally resolved to do what I knew I should, but like a child sent to its room, I determined to do it with as much self-righteous, self-sacrificing snottiness as I could muster.  And I can muster up a lot, just ask my husband.

The same week I was reading a book, “Crazy Love” by Francis Chan.  I’ll write more about it later, but for now let me say that it was the most convicting book outside of the gospels that I have read in many a year.  In one of the most painful moments of the book he insists that most of us have no idea what our lives would look like if we truly loved God with all our hearts.  We give God half an hour of quiet time a day and think we need a sticker that says, “Super-Christian.” 

He was referring to Luke 10 where Jesus affirms that the path to eternal life runs right through Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18.  “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” It was a particularly painful reference because at just that moment my daughters and I were reciting those verses every morning.

Since my girls don’t have access to Sunday School (we live abroad) we work hard to keep up with their Bible learning. Of course these were the verses we were right in the middle of when I read the book.  So while I was turning my face away from God, feeling that He was so harsh for making me suffer like Jeremiah or Ezekiel before me (do you sense a pity party?), I had to sit there and repeat, “And with all our heart, and with all our soul and with all our strength, and with all our mind.” 

Did you ever write lines when you were in school?  “I will not throw spit wads at the teacher.” I sat at the kitchen table and instead of writing it over and over, I said it over and over.  “You shall love the Lord your God.”

The first crisis that week was the decision. Obey the clear and obvious will of God, or ignore Him and do what we wanted instead. The second crisis was understanding that “obeying” wasn’t nearly enough.  I had to submit myself to the will of God wholeheartedly.  Not least because if I didn’t, I might be reciting that verse in shame for the rest of my natural life. 

I’m glad that’s not the end of the story.

Thirty-six hours after we arrived back in country, we were supposed to host a small conference complete with guest speaker, Mr. John King.  If you’ve ever had jet lag, or been in a serious pout, you can imagine that this was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.  But God wasn’t done shaking me out.  Of course Mr. King opened his Bible straight to Deuteronomy 6.  I could have burst into a temper tantrum right there except no one could have possible understood what I was stomping around about!

Sigh.

Digging into the obnoxiously familiar scripture I saw something beautiful.  All of these words demanding obedience, requiring everything I had with nothing held back for myself, were tied to the blessing of God.  I don’t know how I forgot even for a moment that everything I have, including my time, is on loan from God.  I owe it all back to him.  And when I give Him everything, all of my heart, my soul, my strength, my mind, when I hold nothing back, He free-handedly gives back to me a 1,000 times more than I gave. 

I hope you are a better listener than me.  The past few weeks I’ve been so childish, petty, selfish and full of self-pity as to make myself sick.  I can only praise God that in His grace, through His word, He calls and calls and calls until I listen.

Helene Smith

Helene and two friends regularly write a blog at www.maidservantsofChrist.com  .

Our society has become almost totally superficial.  In 1902, Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, which was called “the Mother of Fraternities” because of the number of Greek societies on campus, first enrolled women.  It was no surprise that those young women wanted their counterpart Greek society, and Delta Zeta was formed by six of them.  Their creed promised they would “crusade for justice” and “give understanding and appreciation” to friends.  I wonder what those first six members would think now.

Asociated Press reported on March 11, 2007, that the Delta Zeta sorority at DePauw University in Indiana kicked out 23 young women the group did not feel fit the “physical” image the sorority was going for—they didn’t look right.  So much for a crusade for justice, understanding, and appreciation.  But they aren’t the only ones. 

I read some statistics recently that I found appalling.  Cosmetic surgery in this country has increased dramatically.  In the July 17, 2006 issue of The Des Moines Business Record in an article entitled “Looking Like A Million,” Sarah Bzdega states that there were more than 10 million such surgeries in 2005.  This does not count reconstructive surgeries for such things as injuries or breast cancer, which actually decreased 3% from the previous year.  These figures only include things like liposuction, face lifts, nose and ear jobs, breast augmentation and buttock implants.  Minimally invasive procedures also increased 13%, and many of the patients are now men as well as women.

Have you noticed the plethora of weight loss commercials?  And why are these people losing weight?  Not for their health, but so a man can have a “trophy wife” and another can have a “better sex life,” and a forty year old mom can have a “smoking hot body.”  More and more young women are falling into eating disorders because they want to look acceptable.  Americans are so consumed with the concept of celebrity that we care more about looking like our favorite star than being a decent human being.  I have even heard “Christians” say things like, “It’s a pity she isn’t better looking,” when meeting a new bride.  Truly Samuel was right when he said, in 1 Sam 16:7:  for man looks on the outward appearance…   But shouldn’t we, of all people, be better than that?

What good will it do me to look 40 when I am 80 and my time is up?  It will not keep me from dying.  It will just make a pretty corpse.  What are we teaching our children about what to look for in a spouse, someone beautiful on the outside or beautiful on the inside?  It is really true that the inner person can eventually effect how the outer person looks, especially to those who know them best.  That is what they need to hear, and more, need to see exemplified in the Christians around them.

I bet when the judgment scene in Matthew 25 unfolds, the right side will be overrun with pleasantly plump, gray-haired sheep, still sporting all their laugh lines, while the left has an inordinate number of thin, gorgeous goats.  And I bet every one of those goats would take all their crows’ feet, gray hairs, and thigh fat back in an instant for a chance to switch sides.

But Jehovah said to Samuel; Look not on his countenance or the height of his stature, because I have rejected him.  For Jehovah says, for man looks on the outward appearance, but Jehovah looks on the heart. 1 Sam 16:7

Grace is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Prov 31:30

Dene Ward

In drought times, not very well.  I remember a particular summer not too long ago.  The ground was powder dry.  Even my dog raised a dust cloud chasing a tennis ball.   In three months we had only 6/10 of an inch of rain.  Dew hadn’t even fallen.

Ordinarily, we plant our garden in mid-March, and it is well up and growing by the end of the month.  That year we followed the usual pattern, and by April 1 we were replanting—nothing came up in many rows and the rest were sparse.  If you are a gardener, you know that squash is the easiest thing in the world to grow.  You can practically throw it at the ground and within a month you can supply a city the size of New York.  After two weeks we didn’t even have one half inch seedling in the whole row!

So water it, you say?  We did.  Faithfully.  Every evening.  Still nothing.

When we decided to replant, we went down the same rows, planting the same things.  When we dug new rows, there lay the old seed, looking just like it did when it came out of the package, no germination at all.  You know what we discovered?  The watering job we did was not deep enough to reach the seeds, in spite of the fact that we spent two hours at it every night.

So we replanted, this time watering the row before we covered it, and watering much longer every night afterward.  The seeds came shoving their way up through the dirt before a week was out, and some of the old ones sprouted too.  It wasn’t long till people went running when they saw us approaching with our buckets of squash.

Even after 32 years of gardening we learned something.  Growth happens with deep watering, not shallow.  And it takes an effort to get it as deeply as you should.  It’s not something you can do with a half-hearted, rushed effort.   We’re so used to “labor-saving devices” that I wonder if we even recognize real work, because that’s what it takes.

God’s people in the Old Testament had a watering problem as well.  They thought that serving God was simply a matter of following prescribed rituals.  Despite daily reciting a passage from the Torah that began Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart, they never got within an inch of their hearts.  They “celebrated” the Sabbath, all the time watching the clock, hoping it would be over with soon.  They offered sacrifices, the lame and blind, and anything else that didn’t cost them too much.  They fasted, a ritual they called “afflicting the soul,” which never once touched their souls. 

Now, how is my spiritual garden growing?  Maybe I need to do some deep watering.

Is this the fast I have chosen?  The day for a man to afflict his soul?  Is it to bow down his head in a rush and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him?  Will you call this a fast and an acceptable day to Jehovah?  Is not this the fast that I have chosen:  to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke?  Is it not to deal your bread to the hungry, and that you bring the poor that are cast out to your house?  When you see the naked that you cover him, and that you hide not yourself from your own flesh and blood?...If you take away from the midst of you the yoke, the pointing finger, and the malicious talk, and if you draw out your soul to the hungry and satisfy the afflicted soul, then shall light rise in darkness, and your obscurity be as noonday.  And Jehovah will guide you continually, and satisfy your soul in the dry places, and make strong your bones and you shall be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.  Isa 58:5-11

Dene Ward

I was driving back from Bible class, coming down the last hill before the river, rolling green fields dotted with black cattle on the right, and a couple of old trailer houses perched on the left, their yards littered with rusty old farm equipment, screens hanging loose on porches covered with peeling paint, and black and brown frosted-off weeds standing knee high.  It may surprise you that I was driving.  I have reached that point where the doctor is the one who decides if I can have a driver’s license, and it seems the general consensus is that it doesn’t matter if you can tell if that thing by the side of the road is a garbage can, a mailbox, or a midget, as long you know it’s there and don’t hit it.

But I was really tired.  Most of my medications are beta blockers of one sort or another, or poisons that affect my heartbeat.  Sometimes I am lucky to have a pulse rate of 52 and blood pressure just scraping the bottom side of 100, the top number that is.  The bottom one might be half that. 

I had just bought groceries for the week, picked up a prescription and some dry cleaning, stood in line at the post office for twenty minutes and taught a Bible class, not to mention driving the hour and a half round trip back and forth to town.  I was ready to sit out the rest of the day, after I got home and unloaded.

But my weary mind forgot that I was driving and told me to lean back and relax.  I know my eyes weren’t closed longer than half a second, but when my brain caught up with what I was doing and I snapped to, my pulse was racing along just fine.  Good thing I was only five miles from home. 

And that’s when I forgot that these medications are a blessing, that without them I wouldn’t see at all, and wouldn’t have for several years now.  That’s when I railed against a gift of God.  It’s not enough that I have no energy.  I must also put up with the discomfort of follicular conjunctivitis every minute of every day as a side effect, and nearly constant headaches from the blurry vision that accompanies it.  How can this be a blessing?

Down days happen, usually when things pile up.  Once again we needed something we couldn’t afford.  Once again we had received bad news about a parent’s health.  Once again something broke down.  My vision had decreased another line at my last checkup.  Keith’s RA had broken through the latest, the third, layer of medication and we weren’t sure it could be knocked down without another layer.  And now I come dangerously close to an accident that could have hurt not just me but an innocent bystander.

So down I spiraled.  When even blessings—like the medications that keep you seeing—become something you want to curse because all you can focus on are the side effects, you are too far down, and it’s time to find your way out.

Down days aren’t so much about a lack of faith as they are about a moment’s forgetfulness.  They are about looking for the wrong things, or looking at the right things the wrong way.  This wretched medicine makes me feel horrible, I sometimes think on a down day.  On an up day I remember, this wonderful medicine has kept me seeing long enough to see my grandchildren.

I don’t for a minute compare myself to John, and I certainly have no idea what his feelings were, but if I had been in his shoes—or in his cell—I might have needed a reminder too.  He had given up so much to fulfill his role in God’s plan as the forerunner of the Messiah.  Yet now, when he has done all that was expected of him, he is cast into prison for speaking the truth.  Surely God would save this righteous man, the one of whom the Messiah himself would say, “Of those born of women, none is greater than John,” Luke 7:28.  But no, day after day he languishes in a prison cell at the mercy of a wicked woman and her weak husband. 

I would have had a down day or two as I came to realize that my work was finished, that perhaps I, too, was finished, at the completely un-ripe young age of 31 or so.  I don’t know if that is why or not, but he sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one, or should we look for another?” (7:20) 

The Lord sent him what he needed to hear.

"Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me." Luke 7:22-23.

John already knew those things; he had probably seen many of them.  He just needed to be reminded, and there is no shame in that. 

God can remind each one of us too.  He does it by the providential words and actions of your brethren.  He does it when a hymn suddenly wafts through your mind.  He does it by giving us His Word, a resource of constant refreshment when we need it.  How many of us don’t have verses we go to in difficult moments?  If you don’t, then you need to make some time today to find one.  Find it before you need it.  Find it, and let the Lord remind you about all of your blessings, both now and to come. 

You can come up from a down day, but only if you reach out and take hold of the help that is offered.

They who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31.

Dene Ward

Someone recently asked me what I thought a kindergarten aged child should know about the Bible.  All I can tell you is from my own experience. 

I believe they should know about God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit—and that all of those beings love him no matter what.  They should know every major Bible story, and be able to name the books of the Bible, the apostles, the sons of Jacob, and the judges.  They should have some major memorizing done, individual verses here and there, and larger passages as well, e.g., the 23rd Psalm, the beatitudes, scriptures like Rom 12:1-3 and good old John 3:16.  And those things should be explained as well as a five or six year old can understand them, which may be more than you think.  They should have a large repertoire of spiritual songs, not just children’s songs, but some of the hymns from the songbook as well.  They should be praying several times a day.

The person who asked looked at me, dumbfounded.  “That’s impossible,” he said.  No.  It’s not.  I could do most of that, and my children could do all of it.  I can still hear five year old Lucas reciting the twenty-third psalm, and three year old Nathan singing all five verses of “Twust and Obey.”

What’s that? “It isn’t about learning facts.”  Of course, it isn’t.  But tell me, which do you teach first, critical analysis of the poetry of Keats versus that of Milton, or memorizing the alphabet?  They will never understand faith till they see it working in the life of Abraham; or courage, until they know the stories of David and Esther; or unselfish devotion until they hear about Ruth gleaning in the field.  Isn’t that why God put those facts there in the first place? …things…written aforetime were written for our learning, (Rom 15:4).

And you know what works even better?  Learning about the generosity of Barnabas and then seeing a father like mine, who gave so generously that the IRS audited him.  And learning about the compassion of Dorcas and then a seeing a mother like mine, who took food off her table to give to a neighbor whose husband was killed in an automobile accident, and then organized a food drive for that same neighbor and her five small children.   

And as to the amount I think a child should know so early?  The problem is not a child’s capacity.  The problem is adults underestimating their capacity. And maybe the problem is we do not want to spend the time it takes to do this.  This is not something you accomplish in 15 minutes a day of “quality time,” that great myth that has been foisted on American parents.  God never expected that meager amount to be the time we spend teaching our children. 

Hear, O Israel:  Jehovah our God is one Jehovah.  And you shall love Jehovah your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your might.  And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently unto your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise up.  And you shall bind them for a sign upon your hand, and they shall be for frontlets between your eyes, and you shall write them on the doorposts of your house, and upon your gates.  Deut 6:4-9.

I think that pretty well covers it all, don’t you?

Dene Ward

The one and only time I went to the Florida College Summer Camp was when I was 8.  It was held on campus and I had the first floor dorm room in Sutton Hall that looks out toward what I knew later as Upper Division Dorm. 

The last night of camp, when all the parents came to pick us up, the counselors staged a “Bible Bee.”  We all stood in a circle, beginning with the youngest on to the oldest.  Someone asked Bible questions around the circle and if you missed the question you sat down.  After about 30 minutes there were five of us left—me, all alone on the “kiddy” side of the nearly depleted circle, and, on the other side, 4 teenagers who looked as big as adults to me.

I only remember one question.  I was flabbergasted when a 16 year old could not answer, “Who was thrown into the lion’s den?”  The question came to me next, and I actually felt embarrassed for the boy when I answered, “Daniel.”  That was as far as I got.  You would think I would remember the question that did me in, but I don’t.  I do remember that I could hardly comprehend what was being asked, so it must have been a doozy. 

Eventually, one of the older teenagers won the bee, and I could not understand why so many people came up to me saying how impressed they were.  Except for that last question they were all so easy.  You see, it had absolutely nothing to do with me, and everything to do with my parents.

My sister and I were raised knowing the importance of Bible knowledge.  My mother was a first generation Christian and back then did not have the teaching resources I had available when I was raising my children.  But judging by that “bee,” she and my father, who was only second generation himself, did a much better job of teaching than most who had more advantages.  They answered all the questions we asked, helped us when we needed it, and made sure we did our Bible lessons. They bought us a big beautiful Bible story book.  I did not realize then how expensive it was, but now I can look back and appreciate how lavishly they spent on us and why, especially given our un-lavish lifestyle.  They even allowed us to stay up 15 minutes late so we could read it every night, and later our own Bibles, before bed.  That certainly instilled its importance to me.  Because of their diligence, I cannot understand parents who allow their children—no matter how old they are--to get in the car on Sunday morning without checking to see that they have their lesson books and their Bibles, and without making sure the lessons were done the night before. 

Something just as important--I always saw my parents doing their own lessons, whether it involved doing a workbook or reading a passage of scripture.  Their Bibles and class materials always had a special place on the shelf by the carport door.  If it was not there, they were studying, or they were at class.  None of this “I forgot” business.  And they talked about the scriptures on days other than Sunday and Wednesday.  We grew up knowing that you were supposed to think about these things every day.

That is how I did so well at the Summer Camp Bible Bee.  Like I said, it really had nothing at all to do with me.

…having been reminded of the unfeigned faith that is in you, which dwelt first in your grandmother Lois, and in your mother Eunice, and I am persuaded in you also. 2 Tim 1:5

Dene Ward

Have you ever daydreamed about a perfect life?  I suppose most of us have.  Enough that mountains of money have been saved so that at retirement couples could live the life they have always dreamed of.  Are they really happy?  I have this theory:  if you cannot be happy living a normal everyday life no matter what your circumstances, you will never be happy living your idea of a perfect life either. 

Take a minute now and jot down your idea of a perfect life.  Be as specific as possible.  Since you are just wishing anyway, you might as well make it good.

Now think about this.  As our Creator, God knows what would make us happy.  Too often we treat living by His standards as living a miserable existence with no fun allowed at all.  But when you think about it, He should know best, shouldn’t He?  In fact, when He made man, He created a perfect place, a perfect life, a perfect home.  Take a look at the Garden of Eden.  What did He give His newly created children?

He gave them a beautiful garden that furnished their food and delighted their eyes.  I doubt they had truffles, either vegetable or chocolate.  I know they did not have pate de fois gras or chateaubriand.  But they had plenty, and it was certainly organic!  Gen 1:29

He gave them each other.  Not one man with a different woman every night, or one woman with several men.  He did not make two men or two women, but one man for one woman for one lifetime, 2:24. 

He gave them work to do.  What?!  A perfect place meant having to work?  Exactly.  Not an all consuming career, but productive work tending the garden that fed them.  Not difficult work, as was promised after the fall, but something that fulfilled man’s need to pass the time and stay physically fit, 2:15.

I assume He gave them some sort of house, but do you realize it is never mentioned in Genesis?  Evidently God’s notion of paradise for man did not include having a dream house that cost more in taxes and upkeep in a year than most third world families make in a lifetime.

And best of all, He gave them His fellowship.  It seems to have been His habit to walk and talk with His children in the cool of the day, 3:8.

Now look at your list.  Does it match God’s list at all?  Maybe we need to adjust our thinking—seems to me I have to do a lot of that.  I have another theory:  if my list is not a whole lot like God’s, maybe I won’t enjoy Heaven either.  Maybe I won’t even be allowed to find out.

For he who would love life and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil and his lips that they speak no guile; and let him turn away from evil and do good.  Let him seek peace and pursue it.  For the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears unto their supplication.  But the face of the Lord is upon them that do evil.  1 Pet 3:10-12

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.  To him who overcomes, to him will I give to eat of the tree of life, which is in the Paradise of God. Rev 2:7

Dene Ward