We live in a mobile society.  The first eleven years of our marriage we lived in five places, and we fully expected that to continue.  Neither of us dreamed that our children would go through the same school system for their entire thirteen years of schooling, and we would one day look around and say, “We’ve been here nearly thirty years now!”

It isn’t much by worldly standards, just five acres half a mile off a county road with a “manufactured home” on it.  But it isn’t square footage and high end building materials that make a home.  Would you like a tour?

Over to the west sits the doghouse Keith and the boys built together. It has housed six dogs and three cats now—you see, it is an original design, the cats had the second floor of this special pet condo.  A bright green swing hangs under the grape arbor.  Keith built the arbor and Lucas made the swing in high school shop class.  I make muscadine jelly with the grapes—Welch’s doesn’t even come close.  A live oak shades us from the afternoon sun-- Nathan fell out of it one Saturday while on the rope swing and broke his arm.  Daylilies bloom bright as a yellow sun in a bed I dig up every five or six years, thin out by giving the excess bulbs to friends, and then replant.

Off to the southwest a blueberry patch furnishes us with pies, cobblers, jam, muffins, and pancakes every May.  Beyond it a wooded acre includes four huge live oaks growing so close together that two little boys can barely fit between them.  But this “fort” gave them plenty of cover from wild Indians and assorted other bad guys.

The open field lies to the south, a place that has seen hundreds of football, basketball, and baseball games.  Croquet played on a green tabletop lawn?  Forget it.  We played “ultimate croquet” with slopes, molehills, armadillo holes, paper plate sized sycamore leaves, pine cones, twigs, and other assorted obstacles.  It was a whole lot more interesting.

Off to the southeast sit the old pigpen and the site of the old chicken pen, where the boys learned how to take care of dependent animals, and where the food we eat really comes from.  They also learned that there is a good reason to keep the pigpen way out to the southeast!

The garden has moved a few times as we not only rotate crops but entire plots as well. It was another source of learning—about sowing and reaping, about growth, about hard work, about sharing.  To the east the creek, which is actually a run, now sits dry as a bone because of the several years of drought, but when the boys were young it always had water in it and they took a dip every so often on a hot summer afternoon. 

Isn’t it odd how something that is not that valuable to anyone else can mean the world to you?  I think we have lost that in a society that no longer even furnishes much of a yard for children to play in.  I hope that does not make us lose the impact of some of the descriptions of Heaven, especially those that depict it as a re-creation of the Garden of Eden. 

I will one day have to leave this place, but that will be a difficult day.  I once had some roses, big beautiful bushes weighed down with pink and white blooms all summer.  But between the Storm of the Century in March ‘93, the several years of drought, and the natural bacteria in the ground in this area, they have gradually faded and died.

You know that old song, “Where the Roses Never Fade?”  One day I will have my “roses” again, and they will never die, and neither will we.  And we will never have to leave.

And he showed me a river of water of life, bright as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb in the middle of the street;  and on this side of the river, and on that was the tree of life bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.  And there shall be no curse any more, and the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be there, and his servants shall serve him and they shall see his face, and his name shall be on their foreheads.  And there shall be night no more and they need no light of lamp, neither light of sun for the Lord God shall give them light. And they shall reign forever and ever.  Rev 22:1-5

Dene Ward

New Mexico State University had scheduled its first graduation ceremony ever for March 10, 1893.  That morning the ceremony was canceled.  The university’s first graduate, the only one scheduled to graduate that year, Sam Steele, was robbed and killed the night before.  No one graduated, so no one came.  Reading that brought back a flood of memories.           
Many years ago we were on vacation and had carefully looked up a local congregation so we could attend a mid-week Bible study with our brothers and sisters in that town.  We left our camp site in plenty of time.  We arrived to an empty parking lot at 7:15 pm on a Wednesday evening.  The sign in the yard said, “Wednesday Bible Study, 7:30 PM.”  We waited until 8:00, then finally gave up and went back to the campground—no one ever came.

Another time, another place, we walked into the building at 6:45.  We knew someone would be there this time—there were cars in the lot already.  Yes, they were there, and the Bible class was winding down, even though the sign outside said, “Tuesday evening Bible study, 7:00 PM.”  At 7 on the dot the final amen was said.  “We meet at 6 in the summer,” we were told.  We sure wish the sign had said so.

Yet another time, and another place, we arrived on Sunday morning at 9:15 AM.  The sign outside said, “Bible classes, 9:30 AM,” but there wasn’t another car in sight.  Finally about 9:28 one car drove up and parked.  The family took their time getting out and walking inside.  We followed, and watched as the man, who was the teacher that morning, began setting up.  At 9:35 another family arrived and sat with us.  At 9:40 two more walked in.  At 9:45 another man walked through the auditorium, waving and calling out to the teacher in front of us, who had not yet started his class.  A couple of minutes later we started, and what was billed as a 45 minute study became 25 minutes, less another five or so for opening remarks and prayer.  A twenty minute Bible study.  Obviously, they didn’t get too far in their Bibles, and we wondered why we had gone to so much trouble to be there on time.

I cannot help but wonder how many other visitors give up and leave places like this.  Do we think we have no obligation at all to them?  Paul talks about the effect our assemblies have on the unbelievers who have come in 1 Cor 14:23-25.  He obviously expected visitors.  It isn’t some sort of OCD to want things done “decently and in order.”  When I invite someone, I expect there to be someone besides me to greet them and interact with them.  So does God.

We can piously, and a little self-righteously, tsk-tsk the ones who want things to end on time.  Don’t be so quick to judge bad motives for that.  Do you know the first question anyone I have ever invited asks?  “What time will it be over?”  They aren’t Christians yet.  They have a life to live, and probably other commitments that day.  If I can’t tell them they will be out of there by a certain time, they might not come at all.  Especially in our culture, time and schedule are normal considerations if you want to make your services visitor-friendly.  Eventually they will reach the point that time doesn’t matter to them—but not if we never make it possible for them to attend in the first place with inconsistent scheduling and a supercilious refusal to consider their needs.

I could go on.  What about leaving them easy, un-embarrassing places to sit, especially if they arrive a little late?  What about parking places?

Paul says that our consideration for outsiders will convict their hearts and prove that God is really among us.  What do we prove when our selfish or lackadaisical attitudes keeps anyone from even coming in the first place?

If an unbeliever enters, he is convicted by all, he is called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed and so, falling on his face, he will glorify God and declare that God is really among you, 1 Cor 14:24,25.

Dene Ward

After an unseasonable two weeks in the month of January that left our azaleas and blueberries blooming, the live oak leaves falling by the bushel, and the air conditioner humming away instead of the woodstove, we finally had a night in the thirties and woke February 1 to frost on the ground—and on all those blooms.

Keith rose earlier than usual to start the sprinkler on the blueberries so when the sun hit them as it climbed behind the trees in the eastern woods, the frost would be washed off and the blooms left undamaged.  He also built a small fire in the fire pit beside them, pulled together from the remains of a fire we had enjoyed the night before with a cup of hot chocolate. 

Ever since we moved to this plot of ground we have had a fire pit for hot dog fires and marshmallow roasts.  Now with the boys gone, we still like to sit there on a cold night and talk.  We sit there in the mornings too, if coals remain, and some did that day, so, thanks to a considerate husband, I had a fire to warm me along with my second cup of coffee.

The world was waking up.  Wrens warbled loudly in the shrubs, in between perches on the suet cage.  The hawks cried out as they flew overhead, hunting breakfast.  A neighbor’s cow bawled so loudly I wondered if it needed milking or was just hungry.  Frosted off brown grass may be crunchy, but probably doesn’t offer much nourishment.

I watched the small fire and scratched Chloe’s furry head.  Suddenly the wood shifted, and the whole fire lowered a bit as the wood beneath completely lost its framework and became nothing but ashes.  Slowly and surely the rest began to burn and fall, and within a few minutes only a twig or two was left glimmering in the white debris beneath.

One morning recently, when we were sitting by a similar fire planning a camping trip, we suddenly realized that we could no longer plan “twenty years from now” with any reasonable expectation.  I suppose it hit me first when I did the math and thought, if Keith makes it twenty more years he will have outlived all of his grandparents and his father.  Twenty years will still have me five years short of my mother’s current age, and nearly forty years short of one of my grandmother’s.  Then I realized that I take after my other grandmother more and that would give me only fourteen more years.

I am not being morose.  After all, for a Christian, it means the reward is closer, but I think the day it hits you can suddenly change everything you say and do from then on.  It needs to hit you sooner rather than later—life is short, a breath, a wind, a shadow, the grass, the flowers—all of these things are mentioned in scores of places in the scriptures.

We are just like that small morning fire.  Only half the size of a normal campfire and built on the half burnt remains of the night before, it was gone in moments.  But it still accomplished two things. 

It provided some warmth in the early morning chill.  The thermometer next to the house said 37 that day, but Keith said the car thermometer, which was not next to a warm wall, registered between 29 and 33 as he drove to work.  In a nightgown, sweatshirt and denim jacket, I needed some warmth while I sat there.  So does the world.  It’s up to me to provide that warmth, which translates as comfort and compassion, to everyone I meet.  As Paul said in 2 Cor 1:3,4, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  God gives us spiritual life so we can give comfort to others, not just for our own joy.

The morning was still dim that day, and the fire provided me with the light to see around me.  God appeared as a pillar of cloud to lead the Israelites during the day.  What about travel after dark?  And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night. Exodus 13:21-22.  Isn’t it in the dark of trial, indecision, and despair that we need guidance most?  And when do our neighbors need our help the most?  God means for us to be a light, a city set on a hill, bright enough for all to see even at a distance.

And then we gradually burn down and the light and the warmth disappear.  Or does it?  Don’t you still remember people who have helped you along the way?  Don’t you still recall their wise and comforting words and their kind deeds?  It only looks like the fire has died, for underneath those feathery white ashes lie smoldering coals that will still warm you and give you light.

That’s what God expects of this small morning fire we call our lives, and the fire that keeps on giving will be the one that springs to life again on that bright and glorious morning to come.

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom, Psa 90:12.

Dene Ward

His name was Joseph.  He came from an island off the coast, but had family in the city, and had come to worship at the two feast days, probably staying with his close relative Mary.  While he was there he saw and heard amazing things:  people speaking languages they had never studied, something that looked like fire but wasn’t, something that sounded like a windstorm but wasn’t, and a sermon that both astonished and convicted him.  He wound up staying in town, along with several thousand others who had become part of God’s new kingdom, the one they had been waiting for so long. 

Despite their previous plans, they all chose to stay so they could learn, so they could grow, so they could mature before they went off on their own to spread the word in a world of sin, a world, they were told, that would reject them more often than accept them.  It wasn’t long till the practical needs of several thousand homeless people with no income could no longer be ignored. 

Those who lived in the city helped as much as they could.  They took people in and collected funds to buy extra food and clothing.  Men were chosen to see to these needs.  Joseph helped as well, selling off extra property he owned, and donating the full amount to the group. 

But that was not all he did.  Here was a man who excelled at encouragement, consolation, exhortation.  He was the first to give a pat on the back when it was needed, a hug, a kind word, a stern word, a teaching word, a “rah-rah” from the sidelines, a second chance to those whom others had given up on.  In fact, he became so good at it that the apostles gave him the nickname, “son of encouragement/consolation/exhortation,” whatever your version says in Acts 4:36.  And forever more in the scriptures, that is how we know him—Barnabas.  Did you even know that was not his real name?

Whenever I think of that man, I wonder what nickname the apostles would give me?  Whiny Winnie?  Gossip Gail?  My-Way Marian?  Grumpy Gert?  Cold-hearted Catherine?  Hotheaded Harriet?   Wondering about that will give your character a real shot in the arm.  I’d much rather have something like Generous Joyce or Compassionate Kate. 

Today, try to figure out what they would call you.  Be honest.  You can always change that name, just by changing yourself.

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold,  Prov 22:1.

Dene Ward

This was according to the eternal purpose that he has realized in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and access with confidence through our faith in him, Ephesians 3:11-12.

Ho-hum, I thought as I grabbed the concordance to look up yet another word in our study of faith.  Expecting to see that “boldness” was also translated courage, bravery, or some other obvious synonym, I found myself sitting up at attention instead. 

This word for boldness is not the usual word.  This one actually means boldness of speech.  In fact, the one Greek word is translated by those three English words more than once as in 2 Cor 3:12, “Having therefore such a hope, we use great boldness of speech.”  If you have a modern translation, as I did my ESV that day, you will miss it.  Pull out your old 1901 ASV and you will see the three word phrase.  Then pull out your King James, “ …we use great plainness of speech.”

That means, according to that verse at the top, you can talk freely—and plainly—to God.  You don’t have to worry that God will take things the wrong way.  You don’t have to worry that God will misinterpret your meaning.  You don’t have to worry that He will take offense like some people who make a career out of getting their feelings hurt.

When you are disappointed, you can talk to Him.

When you are depressed and discouraged, you can talk to Him.

When you are mad, you can talk to Him.

When you want to ask why, you can.

When you want to feel a little sorry for yourself, you can.

When you need to vent, you can.

God says, be plain, be bold, tell me what you need to tell me—I am here for you.

That verse in Ephesians says we can do this because of faith.  If you don’t believe God cares this much for you, that He will listen to anything and everything, that He actually wants you to feel free to talk to Him, then somewhere your faith is lacking. 

It isn’t faith to say, God doesn’t want to hear this.

It isn’t faith to say, my problems are too small to bother God with them.

It isn’t faith to say, God is busy with more important things right now.

Faith speaks.

Faith speaks freely.

Faith shares whatever needs to be shared whenever it needs sharing—just ask Job.

Tell God how you feel today.

A Psalm of David:  Hear my cry, O God; Attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I call unto you, when my heart is overwhelmed: Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been a refuge for me, A strong tower from the enemy. I will dwell in your tabernacle for ever: I will take refuge in the shelter of your wings. Selah.   Psalms 61:1-4

Dene Ward

There are probably as many recipes for meat loaf as there are families who eat it.  Up until a few years ago, I thought the only excuse for making meat loaf was the sandwiches you made with the leftovers.  In fact, I was happy to forego eating it at all the first night, and use it only for sandwiches the next day. 

Then I found a recipe for Southwestern Meat Loaf.  It’s still meat loaf—ground meat, finely chopped vegetables, filler, binder of eggs and dairy, seasonings, and a tomato product on top. 

Instead of white or yellow onions you use scallions.  Instead of bell pepper, open a can of chopped green chiles.  Instead of bread crumbs or oatmeal, grind up corn tortillas in the food processor.  Instead of milk, sour cream fills the dairy bill with the usual eggs.  Along with the usual salt and pepper, sprinkle in chili powder, cumin, and chopped fresh cilantro.  Instead of ketchup, mix 3 tablespoons of brown sugar in a cup of salsa.  Pour a quarter cup of that over the top; save the rest for heating and passing with the finished loaf.  Fifteen minutes before it’s done, sprinkle it with Monterey Jack cheese instead of cheddar.  Voila! (Or whatever the Mexican word for that is.)

You know what?  It still looks like meat loaf, smells like meat loaf, and tastes like meat loaf, just with a different accent, one we happen to prefer.  But if someone else came up with a recipe using chunks of beef, broth, potatoes, onions, and carrots we would all think he was nuts to call it meat loaf.  It bears no resemblance to the meat loaf pattern—it’s beef stew.

For some reason, that made me think about God’s plan for the church.  We can find verse after verse where the apostles, particularly Paul, tell us that God expects us to follow a pattern in each congregation—1 Corinthians 4:17; 7:17; 16:1 and 2:Tim 1:13,  just to name a few.  But sometimes we mistake an expedient for a flaw in the pattern, and try to legislate where God did not.

Take the Lord’s Supper for instance:  grape juice and unleavened bread on the first day of the week.  What kind of grapes must the juice come from?  What sort of flour must the bread be made of?  Most of the time here in America, we use juice made from Concord grapes.  They did not have Concord grapes in first century Jerusalem.  The grapes they had in Corinth were probably different, too.  Today we use wheat flour, usually bleached, all-purpose, white flour.  Most likely the early Christians in Palestine used barley flour, and I bet there was nothing white about it—pure, whole grain was all most of them could afford.  (Funny how that is the expensive kind today!)  In Rome the Christians might have used semolina flour.  But there is one thing for certain—everywhere in the world, grapes of some sort are available, and everywhere in the world people eat bread.  All they have to do is press the grapes and remove the leavening from the bread recipe.

Following a pattern does not mean we make rules God did not.  Two women can each make a dress from the same pattern.  One uses satin and trims it in lace; the other can only afford gingham and trims it with rickrack.  Did they both follow the pattern?  Are the sleeves the same length in the same place?  Is the neckline the same?  Do they both have a gathered skirt, or is one A-line?  Oops.  That one changed the pattern.  It’s really not that hard to tell, is it?

And that is how we tell if a church is following the pattern.  Sometimes we try to force every church into satin and lace, when they are really more suited to gingham and rickrack.  But the essentials are there.  It is not my job to go around making judgments about details (cultural expedients) as long as the basic pattern is sound. 

But that pattern does matter.  It has always mattered with God.  Read about Nadab and Abihu, Uzzah, or King Uzziah.  Then let’s make sure we have found a group of people who do their best to follow God’s pattern, and who do not add their own rules to God’s.  After all, meat loaf is meat loaf is meat loaf.  But beef stew isn’t!

…even as Moses is warned of God when he is about to make the tabernacle, See, said he, that you make all things according to the pattern which was shown you in the mount,  Heb 8:5.

For the recipe accompanying this post, click >> Dene's Recipes page


Dene Ward

The bulk of our winter this year was warm, so warm the blueberries began to bloom in January.  Not good, for up here in North Florida we could be sure more frosts and freezes awaited us.  But there was nothing we could do about it, so we went on about our business, and one morning as I pulled myself along with the trekking poles, walking Chloe around the property, I suddenly came upon a yellow daisy right in the middle of a patch of green grass, another product of the warm spell.  It sat there only four inches off the ground and a little scraggly.  Still, it made me smile.

Then I had the flu and found myself in the sickbed for over a week.  Finally, the chest congestion drained, the ears stopped aching, and the nose could suddenly breathe again, so after one more day of recovery, I took Chloe on another walk.  As I came around the blueberries I saw it again, still hanging on in spite of the now cooler temperatures--and once again I smiled.

I wonder if we aren’t supposed to be like that lone little daisy out in the world.  Do we make anyone smile?  Or are we just like everyone else, hurrying along, consumed with ourselves and our business, impatient, or even angry, with the ones who get in our way and slow us down?  We have an obligation to others we pass along the way. 

You shall not see your brother's donkey or his ox fallen down by the way and ignore them. You shall help him to lift them up again. Deuteronomy 22:4

That one is pretty easy, we say.  Who wouldn’t stop for a brother on the side of the road whose donkey (or car) was broken down?  Keith stood by the side of the road next to a disabled car one night, and watched brother after brother pass him on the way to the gospel meeting that was being held just a mile or two down the highway, so don’t be too sure of yourself.

Yet the law also says this:  "If you meet your enemy's ox or his donkey going astray, you shall bring it back to him. If you see the donkey of one who hates you lying down under its burden, you shall refrain from leaving him with it; you shall rescue it with him, Exodus 23:4-5.  How many of us feel any obligation at all to bear the burden of an enemy, or just a stranger? 

Let’s not make it one of those situations where we excuse ourselves by talking about crime and good sense.  How about this?  Did you make the cashier’s day a little brighter or a little tougher when you went through the line this morning?  Did you stop and help the harried young mother who dropped her grocery list and sent coupons scattering across the aisle, or did you sigh loudly at the inconvenience of her, her cart, and her three rowdy children because you were in a hurry to get home?  Did you make small talk with the waitress who poured your coffee, or did you treat her like a piece of furniture?  Did you slow down and make room for the car that cut you off in traffic, or did you talk and gesticulate and lay on the horn long enough for someone to think we were in an air raid?  Did you make anyone smile this morning?

At my first defense, no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me, Paul said in 2 Tim 4:16.  Nearly impossible to imagine, isn’t it?  Yet the night before Keith was scheduled to testify in a trial where we knew the only defense was to try to discredit him, a brother decided he needed to call him up and castigate him for an imagined slight, something that he had simply misunderstood.  When all we can think about is ourselves instead of bearing one another’s burdens, Gal 6:2, instead of helping the weak, 1 Thes 5:14, instead of comforting one another, 2 Cor 1:4, that’s exactly what happens.

Yes, we get comfort from God, but guess how that often happens?  But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus, 2 Corinthians 7:6.  We are the comfort that God gives.  We are the help that He provides. It’s up to us to pay attention and think of someone besides ourselves.

Today, be a January daisy, something lovely and unexpected in the life of someone who needs it, whether a brother, or an enemy, or just a stranger.  Make someone smile.

Anxiety in a man's heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad. Proverbs 12:25
I rejoice at the coming of Stephanas and Fortunatus and Achaicus… for they refreshed my spirit... 1 Corinthians 16:17-18

Dene Ward

Although I had babysat a few times and had piano students on Saturday mornings from the time I was 16, it wasn’t quite the same as my first job.  I answered a classified ad at a concrete plant a couple of miles down the road from our house.  I expected to sit in an assembly line sorting tiles with a bunch of other women, dust rising and coating us through the heat of summer days, forty-two and a half hours a week, at minimum wage.  I lucked out.  I had written on my application that I could type and the yard boss grabbed me for his office girl that summer.  I got to wear dresses and sit in air conditioned comfort instead of sweating in blue jeans in the old tin building out back.

But just like those other women, I didn’t get paid until payday.  I never once expected anything else.  The boss was not going to walk around handing out checks to anyone for work they hadn’t yet done.  Yet we kept on working, sure that on Friday afternoon the checks would come out. 

I wonder about us sometimes and our expectations of God.  We walk by faith and not by sight, Paul said in 2 Cor 5:7.  Without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him, the writer says in Hebrews 11:6.  Yes, God is a rewarder, but not yet.  Certainly we receive blessings in this life, but the best this life has to offer is a far cry from the final reward.  True faith does not expect Heaven now.

The Psalmist tells us in 33:18 that God will take care of the one who fears him, will, in fact, “deliver his soul in famine.”  I probably would never have noticed this forty years ago, but it jumped right out at me the morning I read this psalm.  He will save us “in famine”—it doesn’t say we will never have to experience a famine.  Paul says we are to “fight the good fight,” 1 Tim 6:12, he doesn’t say God will keep us out of any sort of fight at all.  Our faith will be a shield and breastplate for us (Eph 6:16; 1 Thes 5:8), but it won’t be a peace treaty with the Devil.

Habakkuk had a hard time understanding God’s reasoning in this matter.  How could a righteous God use a nation even more wicked than His people had become to punish them?  We should never act like we can call God on the carpet and tell Him, “Explain yourself!”  Habakkuk understood that himself, and God gave him the only answer he really needed, “The just shall live by his faith.”

By the end of the book Habakkuk knew that didn’t mean no one would die.  He knew it didn’t mean they wouldn’t experience horrible things.  And we shouldn’t expect that either.  Despite what so many preach about “health and wealth” to the true believer, this world is not Heaven and God never promised it would be.  He simply promised understanding for what we are experiencing and the help to get through it. 

It is for us to come to the conclusion Habakkuk finally did in a paean to hope that explains how we all make it through tough times, not just me and my problems, or you and yours, but each of us in the life we have before us and its own peculiar trials and tribulations.  We wait, as he did, for the troubles to come—and they will—and we rejoice.

I hear, and my body trembles; my lips quiver at the sound; rottenness enters into my bones; my legs tremble beneath me. Yet I will quietly wait for the day of trouble to come upon people who invade us. Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. GOD, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places. Habakkuk 3:16-19

Dene Ward

It has now been over six months since I took a deep breath and jumped headlong into the world of blog-dom.  Watching those pageviews rise has been a humbling experience.  Perhaps the most amazing thing to me is that anyone cares to spend any time reading my pitiful words at all—this is too uncomfortable a chair to sit in for long. 

I have tried to give you something besides “feel good fluff.”  Some that are a bit challenging, but at least a few that are more of a pat on the back or a reminder of the wonder of salvation. 

But here is the problem, writing comes more easily when I am scolding myself, which I often need.  So if some of these have seemed a bit hard, that is why—it is really me I am talking to.  I just hope you are able to find something in it that may help you as well.

God has always expected us to help one another that way, hasn’t He?  I just checked and in the New Testament alone, I found some form of the word “reprove” 12 times, some form of “rebuke” 27 times, and some form of “exhort” 43 times for a grand total of 82.  Then I looked up the other side of things.  I found some form of “comfort” 35 times, but some form of “encourage” I found only 4 times!  God certainly knew that there would be more times I needed to be straightened out, and fewer times I would deserve a more positive reinforcement.

But isn’t it nice that the word “comfort” is found so often?  Sometimes I think I can’t possibly do this.  No matter how hard I try, I always fail yet again.  But that really isn’t true.  Sometimes I do get it right.  I am making progress—but Satan does not want me to see that.  He does not want me to be encouraged and comforted. 

And I have a hard time believing that any one of you who has been a Christian for any amount of time has not, at least once in awhile, succeeded in your fight against sin, too.  Don’t listen to him when he tells you that you always fail. You don’t.  And I know that because I know Who your helper is.  I know the promises we have been given—you will not be tempted more than you can handle, and there is a way to escape it.  I know you have escaped it at least once, or Satan would not keep trying so hard.  After he gets you, the need to tempt you is gone. 

So hang in there.  I’m hanging right beside you.  We’ll help one another, rebuke one another, reprove one another, exhort one another, encourage one another, and comfort one another.  If this were not doable, we would not have been told to do it.

You are of God, my little children, and have overcome them, because greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world.  I John 4:4

Strengthen the weak hands and confirm the feeble knees.  Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong; fear not; behold your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God.  He will come and save you.”  Isaiah 35:3,4

Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

We were on our way to church on Sunday morning.  There was little traffic; Dene was wearing her usual “necklace”--my microphone--and my hearing aids were set to pick up only that.  Long ago, conversation without this wonder had ceased due to road noise.  

Suddenly, I hit a hole in the road and exclaimed, “I’ll bet I would have missed that if I had been looking at the road instead of into the woods.”  I followed that a moment later with, “That is why you are a better driver than I am despite:  I have better coordination, more practice, can see better, and am smarter than you are.”

When she objected to the last point, I said, “I married you; you married me.”  She conceded. 

When she drives, Dene does nothing else. Her whole attention is on the road and the business of driving; it has to because of her vision problems.  Jesus said that if one’s eye is single, his whole body will be full of light.  Despite all the discussion about multi-tasking, we really cannot do more than one thing at a time.  We always short one in order to do the other, which is the reason I hit the hole in the road and why I stumble when I try to chew gum and walk.  

On a spiritual plane, Jesus is urging that we keep our focus: “You cannot serve God and Mammon.”  Many Christians have lost their souls because they did not keep their eyes on the road.  

No one preaches about covetousness anymore.  One supposes such preaching would not be very popular in the most materialistic country in this most materialistic age. When church-attenders spend more time and money on recreation in a year than they give to the Lord in all the ways they give (collection, personal benevolence, attendance, personal study, et al.), one must at least suspect their eye is divided and their path is off into the woods.  It is right to work, it is right to have houses and good food and toys.  It is not really difficult to discern when the focus has shifted to those things, even when the sinner continues to attend.  “By their fruits you shall know them….”  Only the guilty says that you cannot really know what is inside him.  Jesus says that you are what you do.

The one who worries about the things he does not have, food and clothing, Jesus says, is actually in the same boat with the covetous man.  He has his focus on things, on mammon, and not on God and righteousness.  Filling the needs of the covetous man is impossible.  But, if done, would not satisfy him or free his time for the Lord.  He will always want “more.”  Likewise, providing abundantly for the anxious will not stop his worrying. Neither one is focused on the Lord, but on things.  When one says that if he just had _________, he would be able to devote more time to God, he is fooling no one but himself.  He is driving with only an occasional glance at the road and lucky to drive between the ditches.

Sometimes we are deceived into thinking there are many choices.  Jesus said there are two—God or things; righteousness or carnality.  All the various pursuits such as career, honor, status, art, etc are just variations on mammon that allow us to believe we are above the money-grubber.

So, think about it the next time you drift off the road toward the direction you are looking, and evaluate what your spiritual focus is.

All scripture references are from the Sermon on the Mount. If you cannot make the time to find and read them, you may have an indicator of your focus!                                           
Keith Ward