Keith began losing his hearing in his early 20’s.  He received his first hearing aid when he was 27, and we had only been married 6 months.  At this point, nearly 33 years later, the doctors say he is now “profoundly deaf,” which means he has reached the 90% mark. 

He can stand next to the phone and not hear it ring.  He can wash his face, reach for the towel, and walk out of the bathroom, not realizing the water is still running full blast.  He has a tendency to be loud and sometimes monotone because he can no longer hear himself or his tone of voice.  If he were home alone and a fire broke out while he was asleep, he would not hear the smoke alarm even though it hangs right outside our bedroom door. 

He used to play the violin more than passably well, but violin requires an ear.  He used to lead singing, but now he changes key in the middle of a phrase without realizing it.  He can no longer hear prayers, sermons, announcements, or comments in Bible classes without reading lips. Hearing is a constant crossword puzzle where his mind fills in the blanks left by his hearing and lip reading –often creating humorous misunderstandings, but that is another story.  All this means that in order to hear he must work hard.  You think a conversation with friends is relaxing. For him it is exhausting.  If he is not feeling well or is already tired, he cannot hear at all, period, because he is not up to the wearying chore of “listening” to all the other things he must besides words.

All of this breaks my heart because I can foresee a time when this man, who loves Jehovah God and his word more than life itself, will no longer be able to actively participate in the group worship of his brethren.  Michal, the wife of David, would be thrilled to be in my shoes—for there to actually be a time coming when her husband could no longer worship with passion. 

She was Saul’s daughter, a princess royal and now a king’s wife, enamored with the dignity of her position.  How do I know?  Look at 2 Sam 6.  She was married to a man who loved God with all his heart, a man who wrote poetry to God by the yard and sang to Him every day.  Mothers, here is the role model for your little boys.  David was a man’s man in every sense of the word—a warrior king who killed wild animals practically bare-handed, and engaged in heart-pounding, daring battles with the enemies of God--but a man who did not believe that religion made him a sissy.

After David captured Jerusalem, he brought the ark of Jehovah in, and was so thrilled that his passionate worship had him dancing in the street.  Michal saw him from her window, and later scolded him, “How you distinguished yourself in front of the maidens of Israel today, like any other common man in the streets!”

David answered, It was the Lord who chose me…I will celebrate before the Lord.  I will become even more undignified than this—I will humiliate myself in my own eyes, but by these same slave girls I will be held in honor. 

David understood two things.  First, that it was not his dignity Michal was worried about, it was hers. And second, God demands that pride be left behind when we worship him.  God wants worship with passion.  Despite what you may have heard about the Old Law, He always has.  If I let my pride hold me back, I may as well not bother.  I have always found it interesting that the passage telling us to do things “decently and in order” (1 Cor 14:40) is in the same context as the one that makes it plain that amens from the assembly were the rule not the exception (v 16).

Do you elbow your husband when he says, “Amen?”  Do you shush him when he sings loudly because you think he is off-key?  Is that any different than Michal?  If you have found a man who understands that faith has nothing to do with weakness and everything to do with strength, who loves the Lord enough to humble himself and worship unashamedly, praise God for your good fortune and encourage him in his worship.  You never know when he might no longer be able to do so.

As the hart pants after the water brooks, so pants my soul after you, O God.  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God?  My tears have been my food day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is your God?  These things I remember and pour out my soul within me, how I went with the throng and led them to the house of God with the voice of joy and praise, a multitude keeping holyday. Psalm 42:1-4

Dene Ward

Three year old Silas has learned to pray, and often sits at the table, eagerly clasping his little hands together, looking back and forth at his parents, hoping they will ask him to say the blessing. 

“Do you want to say the prayer?” his daddy asks, as if it weren’t obvious, and he gets a big nod and off we go.  It’s never about the meal.  To him it’s about talking to God and saying thank you for something, for anything, for whatever happens to be on his mind.

“Hey God!”  Read that the way an excited child would greet his grandparents, not the way a New Yorker would yell, “Hey Mac!”

“Thank you for sisters,” although he has none, but one of his little friends does, so he wants to mention it.

“Thank you for blue, and red, and yellow,” the colors of the containers he puts his blocks in.  He doesn’t complain about having to pick up his toys.  He thanks God for something to put them in, and that’s the one that really made me think.

I wonder how many of our complaints could be expressed as thanks with just a little thought.  Dealing with rush hour traffic?  Thank God you have a car to drive through it in.  Complaining about the stack of ironing?  Thank God you have that many clothes to wear.  Griping a little about picking up your husband’s shoes?  Thank God he is alive and well enough to leave them in the middle of the floor.

I thought about this again yesterday when I was blowing off the carport.  We didn’t have one for years, and sometimes I think that all getting one did for me was give me something else to keep clean.  But last week when one of our usual summer gully washers came through, I could unload the groceries and stay dry. 

Then I came in and heaved a sigh at the extra dirty floor.  That happened because we saved enough money to buy a new vanity for the bathroom and the plumber tracked in sand going in and out. 

Stop and think today about the things you complain about.  How many are caused by blessings you could have thanked God for instead?  How many extra chores do you have because God has provided you a home and a family?  I never had to wash diapers until I had babies.  Do you think for one minute I would have given them back? 

If ever anyone had something to grumble about, it was Daniel when the other two presidents and the 120 satraps tricked the king into making the law against praying to anyone other than him.  How did he react instead?  And when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house (now his windows were open in his chamber toward Jerusalem) and he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime. Daniel 6:10.  Surely if Daniel could say thank you at a time like that, we can in this relatively easy time in history.

God is patient with us as we daily grumble our way through a life He has blessed in thousands of ways.  You have to go to work?  These days especially, be grateful for a job.  Gas prices too high?  You’re still buying it, aren’t you? 

Maybe we should be a little more like a three year old.  “Hey God!  (I’m so excited to talk to you!)  Thank you for all you have done for me, for the things you have given me that I don’t deserve and forget to be grateful for.  For all those extra chores, because they mean you have blessed me beyond measure.  For all my pet peeves, because it means I am able to be up and around and go to those places where they happen.  For the fact that I have to work so hard to lose weight, because it means I have plenty to eat.  For people who get on my nerves, because it means I have friends and family and neighbors and brothers and sisters in Christ—I am not alone.”

Today look at everything you gripe about and find the blessing.  You will be amazed--and probably a little ashamed.  And maybe those gripes will go away, for at least a little awhile.

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you, 1 Thes 5:18.

Dene Ward

I have done more traveling than I really care to lately—in less than two years’ time 7000 miles to either family funerals or experimental surgeries, and all in an automobile. I have started noticing place names that are a bit unusual.  Now Florida does have its own peculiarities.  Have you ever heard of Two Egg, Florida?  As we traveled through Mississippi recently, we came across an exit for Dry Creek Water Park.  I am not sure I would want to go down their water slide.  Then there was Aux Arc, Arkansas.  If you have not had French lessons, or, as in my case, taught French art song, where the judges dock your students severely for mispronunciation, you may not get it.  “Au” in French is pronounced “oh”, and an “x” at the end of a word is not pronounced at all unless it comes before a word beginning with a vowel, in which case it is pronounced as a “z.”  So Aux Arc is pronounced “Ozark.”  Sounds like someone got a little cute.  Then there was Toad Suck Park.  I do not even want to contemplate how that one got its name.

I am reminded of my readings, in Genesis especially, how various places were named.  Almost always it had to do with something that happened there, and in the case of God’s people, usually included a reference to God in their lives.  

 After Abraham offered Isaac (Gen 22) in all but actual deed, he called the mountain “Jehovah-jirah,” meaning “Jehovah will provide,” for indeed God did provide an offering.  When Jacob fled Esau, he dreamed of angels ascending and descending a ladder, and the next morning set up a pillar, poured oil upon it and called it “Beth-El,” meaning “house of God” (Gen 28).  When he returned to the land 20 years later, he called for all the foreign gods to be disposed of, for his family to purify themselves, and built an altar, calling it “El-beth-El,”  “the God of Bethel” (Gen 35)  In 33:20 he bought a parcel of land and spread his tent there, calling it “El-Elohe-Israel,” “God, the God of Israel.”

So if we were going to name our homes, whether they be small apartments in the city, homes in the suburbs, or acreage in the country, what would we call them?  Is God a big enough part of our lives to figure in their names as He was to the old patriarchs?  Would “Beth-El” be suitable because God is regularly spoken to and the Lord is spoken of in our homes?  Could we call it Jehovah-jirah because we understand that all we have is provided by God?  Could we call it “El-Elohe-Ward,”  “God the God of the Wards” (or your own particular last name)?   Or would we, as Isaac did when the Philistines feuded with him over the watering holes, have to name our wells “Esek,”  (“Contention”) and “Sitnah,” (“Enmity”) (Gen 26)?  What emotions are our homes filled with?  

 It is an interesting exercise to think about giving our homes a name.  Try it, and see if it doesn’t help you make yours a better home for your family, and a wonderful place for anyone to visit

But will God in very deed dwell on the earth?  Behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain you, how much less this house that I have built!  Yet have respect unto the prayer of your servant and to his supplication, O Jehovah my God, to listen unto the cry and to the prayer which your servant prays before you this day:  that your eyes may be open toward this house night and day …and hear in heaven your dwelling-place, and when you shall hear, forgive.  1 Kgs 8:27-30

Dene Ward

Sometimes you read a passage of scripture for years without seeing what it really says.  I suppose it was only seven or eight years ago that I really saw Gen 21:11.  Sarah had had enough of Hagar’s attitude, and Ishmael she viewed as nothing but a competitor to Isaac.  She wanted to send them both away.  And the thing was grievous in the sight of Abraham because of his son. 

“…because of his son.”  For the first time ever it dawned on me that Abraham loved Ishmael.  Of course he did.  This was his son!  In fact, when God backed up Sarah’s wish with a command of his own, he said, Let it not be grievous in your sight because of the lad and because of your handmaid, v 22.  Hagar had been his wife, (16:3) for eighteen to twenty years, depending upon Isaac’s age of weaning.  A relationship had to be broken, two in fact. 

Now look at Abraham as he sends the two of them away, particularly his oldest son.  Do you have a child?  Can you imagine knowing you will never see that child again, and how it must have felt as Abraham saw their departing figures recede into the heat waves of the Palestine landscape? 

Too many times we look at Bible people with our “super hero glasses” on.  We fail to see them as real people with real emotions.  Of course they could do as God asked.  They were “heroes of faith.”  When we do that, we insult them.  We demean the effort it took for them to do what was right.  We diminish the sacrifices they made and the pain they went through.  And we lessen the example they set for us.

That may be the worst thing we do.  By looking at them as if they were “super” in any way at all, we remove the encouragement to persevere that we could have gained.  “There is no way I could do that.  I am not as strong as they were.  I’m not a Bible super hero.”  If you aren’t, it’s only because you choose not to be. 

Those people were just like you.  They had strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures.  They had problems with family, with temptations, and with fear of the unknown.  You have everything to work with that they did. In fact, you have one thing the Old Testament people didn’t have—a Savior who came and took on the same human weaknesses we all have (Heb 2:17; 4:15), yet still showed the way.  For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps, 1 Pet 2:21.  If you belittle the accomplishments of those people as impossible for you to copy, you belittle His too.

Take off the glasses that distort your view.  Instead, see clearly the models of faith and virtue God has set before us as real people, warts and all.  They weren’t perfect, but they managed to endure.  Seeing them any other way is just an excuse not to be as good as we can be.

Brethren, be imitators together of me, and mark them that so walk even as you have us for an ensample, Phil 3:17.

Dene Ward

When I was a child, we read the tales of fairies and genies, and talked about the things we would wish for if we had three wishes. It was not long before I realized that three would not be enough!  Soon I learned to wish that all my wishes would come true, but, later, I added a special formula to avoid the “Midas Touch” dilemma.  [I didn’t really want my sister to turn into a cockroach forever.]

Even adults spend some time wishing.  I would wish to be able to hear music and for my wife to see well, for youth, for wisdom, for wealth, for perfect weather and for….you see, three would never be enough. 

Then, wisdom strikes (rarely) – I am wishing for all the wrong things and all the things that matter have already been granted--I must just wait a little while with faith.

We will live forever in perfect health in bodies of a totally new kind that make these look like tents (2 Cor 5:1-4).  There will be joy and peace and plenty so far beyond our understanding that it is described as the streets being paved with gold and rivers of waters of life flowing from the throne of God.  No one will die or even get sick.  Beauties beyond mortal vision will thrill us.  A life super abundantly beyond all that we can think to wish for us awaits us (Eph 3:20).  And, it never fades or diminishes in its delights for the soul as it does on earth where, once we receive them, we often tire of the things we had wished for. (1 Pet 1:4).

Can you believe it; many people think they can do better!  They feel the cost of a life of righteousness is too high and seek their joy in the pleasures of sin.

Sin is for the young and healthy. Its pleasures are real but fleeting, and just as an addict must use more and more of his drug to achieve a high, so must sinners “wax worse and worse”  to achieve their pleasure (2Tim 3:13).  Sin inevitably hurts others and ruins the psyche of the sinner.  Then you die and comes judgment.

A life of righteousness builds one’s inner man and his relationships.  Joy and peace accompany the righteous in sickness and health and whatever circumstances life brings, for he looks for “a city whose builder and maker is God;” and “godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come” Heb 11:10, 1 Tim 4:8.  Then you die and all your wishes do come true and beyond that, glories you never imagined to wish for.

And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, the tree of life, which bare twelve kinds of fruit, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the peoples.

And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God gives them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever. (Selected from Rev 21 & 22).

Keith Ward

Several years ago, a prominent female politician angered many American women when she answered a reporter about her choice of career over homemaking by saying, “Well I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies.”  Most of us read a sneer in her tone and, as I remember it, her office was inundated with homemade cookies baked and sent by outraged homemakers.

One of the things I decided to do as a homemaker was to keep a cookie jar filled with homemade cookies, and for the most part I have.  Chewy oatmeal raisin, spicy gingersnaps, crumbly peanut butter, sparkly snickerdoodles, decadent triple chocolate, wonderful almond crunch cookies that always surprise people and steal the show, and all those variations of the All-American chocolate chip:  Toll House, Neimann Marcus, peanut butter chocolate chip, double chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip, and death by chocolate chocolate chip.  My boys would come home from their friends’ houses talking about how deprived they were—all they had were Oreos.

My younger son Nathan was especially fond of cookies.  As a toddler, he would pull up a chair to stand in so he could “help” me make cookies—help that usually involved tasting the dough to make sure it was good, and then “cleaning” the beaters.  When he was in high school, I bought him a shirt that said, Life’s Greatest Questions:  Who Am I?  Where Did I Come From?  Why Am I Here?  WHERE ARE THE COOKIES? 

Eventually that chubby, tow-headed, blue-eyed cherub became a long, lean man who went off to college.  The first time he came home he brought a friend with him.  He immediately led the buddy to the counter where the cookie jar always sat.  “See?  I told you there would be cookies.”  Until he married I would bake cookies and save a dozen each week in a freezer bag until I had 4 or 5 kinds, then mail them to him and start all over.  This was one serious cookie connoisseur.  I am not sure what else made an impression on him, but I know he will remember that I loved him enough to make cookies for him.

I am reminded of David after his small army defeated the Amalekites.  Not all of his men were as righteous as he.  Several “wicked men and base fellows” did not want to share the spoils with the men who had stayed at camp, guarding their belongings.  David said, You shall not do so, my brothers, with that which Jehovah has given us…the share of him who goes down to the battle shall be the same as he who tarried by the baggage; they shall share alike, and it was from that day forward a statute and ordinance in Israel.  1 Sam 30:23-25.  David understood the value of those who did the behind-the-scenes work, the jobs others considered less important, and which seldom received glory or recognition. 

Think about Dorcas.  Stephen, the deacon and great preacher, had been killed not long before. James the apostle, a cousin of Jesus himself, would be next.  But who did Peter raise from the dead?  Not the powerful speakers who performed miracles, but a widow who made clothes for the poor, Acts 9:36-42.  Surely God was saying that what we consider small and unimportant tasks are actually some of the greatest of all.

Never underestimate the importance of “baking cookies.”

For whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink because you are Christ’s, truly I say to you, he shall not lose his reward, Mark 9:41.

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


Dene Ward

Every dog we have ever had has loved a good belly rub, but Chloe seems to have taken it to another level.  It isn’t just that she begs for a belly rub, it’s that she thinks God put her here to have her belly scratched, and that scratching her belly may be the only reason He put us here.

A few people seem to have the same opinion about themselves and the church.  The only reason God instituted a church is to pander to their every need.  It seldom seems to cross their minds that other people have needs as well, and that those needs may be even more critical than theirs.  Chloe wouldn’t care if the house were on fire if she saw us running outside.  She would still scamper up, plop herself on the ground and roll over—isn’t that why we came outside, to scratch her belly?  A Christian who thinks he is the center of the universe is behaving the same way.

Others think the only reason God put them in the church was for the church to listen to them.  They never ask a question in a Bible class, or offer a comment to stimulate discussion and deep thinking.  Instead they have all the answers and are happy to tell you exactly how things ought to be done, even things that are not specifically spelled out in the scriptures.  They know best.  It amazes me when these are people new to a congregation, who don’t yet know the background and experiences of the people they are trying to advise, often including elders, or who are in their mid-twenties with little life experience behind them.  Kind of reminds me of Chloe who thinks a belly rub is appropriate any time of day, any place, even while you are trying to shoot a rattlesnake that she obviously has not seen.  But she knows best, Boss!

Then there are the ones who think their feelings, or the feelings of a family member, are all that count.  The church is supposed to pussyfoot around and never offer exhortation or criticism that might “offend” by our definition of the word.  They think they are put here to be stroked and petted and “have their belly rubbed” regardless of what might be happening to their souls.  Reminds me of that passage about people “whose god is their belly”—nothing matters at the moment but how they feel.  I am not about to let Chloe roll over on her back in the middle of a garden row I have just planted that is supposed to help feed us this year, no matter how much it hurts her feelings for me to tell her, “No!”  Some things are more important than her feelings, and if she were my child instead of my dog, I would explain that to her rather than let her do as she pleased and cost us a few hundred dollars worth of groceries. 

So what do you do about people like that?  You do the same thing the Lord did for you when you were still that immature and selfish.  You tolerate, you teach, you show them a better way with the example of your own service and willingness to accept abuse or take on responsibilities that are not yours but that you do because they need doing and you are there.  You love them in a way they don’t deserve and yes, you rebuke when necessary and hope they won’t act childishly and run off to play somewhere else, where everyone will scratch the belly they offer, and let them be the only ones who matter and the only ones worth listening to.

The Lord did all that for us, and he expects us to do it for them.  Some day maybe they will learn to be better than a silly little dog who thinks the world is here to scratch her belly.  Didn’t you?

And we exhort you, brethren, admonish the disorderly, encourage the fainthearted, support the weak, be longsuffering toward all. 1Thes 5:14

Dene Ward

Uh-huh.  Sure.  I have heard that way too many times in the last few weeks.  As much as I like and trust my doctor, he might as well ditch that line.  I automatically cringe when I hear it.  What follows almost invariably does hurt, at least “a bit,” and often more.

What would you expect when they insert six inch sticks halfway into the top of your eye socket and mash all along the top of your eyeball trying to reposition things inside your eye?  Or when they insert a syringe into the front of your eye and pump in a gel that makes eye pressure increase by 50% in just a second or two?  Or when they put a needle deep into your eye to ream out a blocked shunt?  Or when they laser an eye the size of a marble over 300 times, leaving black burn marks that last for years?  And all of this happens while you are awake, with only a couple of numbing drops to deaden the surface of your eye, which also has a fresh surgery incision, and a raw cornea the resident describes as “road rash of the eye.”

Sometimes I would like to watch my doctors undergo all of these things, then tell me it doesn’t hurt, not even “a bit.”  I think every patient going through any sort of procedure has those daydreams, especially when they hear, “This won’t hurt a bit.”

And isn’t that why our Savior and High Priest is so precious to us?  He does know that life can hurt, that Satan is a frighteningly strong power, that it is not easy to endure this world’s sorrows.  


Since then the children are sharers in flesh and blood, he also himself in like manner partook of the same, that through death he might bring to naught him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and might deliver all them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.  For truly not to angels does he give help, but he gives help to the seed of Abraham.  Wherefore it behooved him in all things to be made like unto his brethren that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.  For in that he himself has suffered being tempted, he is able to succor those that are tempted, Heb 2:14-18.

So when He says it won’t hurt, we know it won’t.  When He says we can overcome, we know we can.  When He says the struggle is worth it, we know it is.  Not only has He been through it Himself, but He will go through it again with us. 

            Hallelujah!  What a Savior!


For we have not a high priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but one who has been in all points tempted like we are, yet without sin.  Let us therefore draw near with boldness to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy, and may find grace to help us in time of need.  Heb 4:15,16

Dene Ward

We had our first opportunity for an overnight with Silas a few months ago.  It was better than a trip to Disneyworld, better than a vacation in an exotic place, better than dinner in a five star restaurant, better than just about anything you could possibly think of.  Do I sound like a doting grandmother yet?

When he woke the next morning, he remembered that it was the two of us who put him in the crib the night before and he called out, “Granddad!  Grandma!”  And there was that smiling face and those big blue eyes under a head full of tousled blond curls. 

My one concern that weekend was understanding what he was saying.  He has been talking since he was one, but sometimes in a language we can’t quite figure out.  It sounds for all the world like a real tongue.  It comes complete with hand motions and facial expressions and he is quite fluent in it.  Unfortunately, we aren’t.

The last year he has gained more English and less of his personal argot.  For two years old, as he was then, he had quite a vocabulary.  We were looking at a book about shapes, and he pointed to one and said, “That’s an oval.”  I hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of that when he added, “And that’s a rhombus.”  I quickly flipped through my own mental file card, trying to remember that one from high school math classes. 

That morning after we got him out of bed, he turned to me and said, “Can I have bussenwuddy?”

I was stumped.  Maybe I didn’t hear right, I thought.  So I asked, “Bussenwuddy?”

His little eyes brightened and he started jumping in my lap.  “Yes, yes!  Bussenwuddy!”

Okay, now what?  Bussenwuddy...  I flipped through those file cards in my mind once again.  What have I heard him talking about that sounds like bussenwuddy?

Finally it came to me.  “Buzz and Woody?” 

Another excited little bounce.  “Yes, yes!  Bussenwuddy.  Can I?”  He wanted to watch the Toy Story DVD.  I felt like a successful grandmother--I had figured out what my two year old grandchild wanted.  Do you think anyone but a grandparent would have tried so hard?

God is trying to talk to us every day.  He has put it down in black and white.  All we have to do is pick it up and read it.  Some of us won’t even be bothered with that.  Then there are the ones that will pick it up, but then put it back down in frustration.  “I can’t understand this.”  Well, how hard are you willing to try?

I have had women leave my classes because “They’re too much work.”  Keith has had people complain about his classes because, “They’re too deep.”  Really?  I would be embarrassed to say such a thing if I had been a Christian for two decades or more. 

Don’t I care enough about my Father in Heaven to put a little effort into it?  It isn’t that He expects us all to be scholars, who love to put our noses in books for hours on end.  But He does expect us to care enough to spend a little time at it.  He expects us to be willing to push ourselves some. 

No, it isn’t all as simple as, “Do this,” or “Do that.”  Sometimes He throws a bussenwuddy in there (Matt 13:10-13; 2 Pet 3:16).  But if you really care about communicating with your Father, if talking to Him really excites you, if He is the most important thing in your life, then you will exercise that file card memory of yours and flip through it occasionally, striving (a word that denotes effort, by the way) to learn what He expects of you. 

You don’t have to be a genius with a photographic memory, but you do have to love your Father enough to be willing to work at building a relationship with Him.  Pick up your Bible today, and show Him how much He means to you.

And he said to me, "Son of man, go to the house of Israel and speak with my words to them. For you are not sent to a people of foreign speech and a hard language, but to the house of Israel-- not to many peoples of foreign speech and a hard language, whose words you cannot understand. Surely, if I sent you to such, they would listen to you. But the house of Israel will not be willing to listen to you, for they are not willing to listen to me: because all the house of Israel have a hard forehead and a stubborn heart.

Ezekiel 3:4-7

Dene Ward

 

I do not mean to leave you discouraged, so let me share some success stories with you.  After all these years, we have a few, and I do believe God meant us to share them (Acts 14:27) with one another. 

I remember a lot of baptisms.  Keith has baptized in swimming pools, sunken bathtubs, and ponds.  I remember standing right at the shore, cold water lapping at my feet on a chilly January night as a young woman came up out of the water with him, and wrapping her in blankets as quickly as I could.  I remember him coming home one night, sticking his legs out of the truck door to show me the damp hems because a Bible study had resulted in the birth of a babe in Christ.  I remember the night we stood on the edge of a swamp, bullfrogs croaking a bass chorus and headlights shining over the weedy waters, as he baptized a young man he had studied with for several weeks.  I believe it was May and I remember thinking, surely God will keep the snakes at bay tonight!

I remember some neighbors up the street in another state, who had started coming to services, and her to our women’s class, and who wanted so badly to be baptized one Sunday morning, they wouldn’t even change into robes.  “We came in these clothes, and these clothes are going down with us, right now!” the man said.  I think we did persuade him to remove his wallet and take off his shoes.

I remember another young man who faithfully completed the correspondence course, asking good questions along the way, and then sent back his final lesson with the note, “I’m ready to be baptized.”  He attended faithfully until he moved away.  I remember another young man whose commitment was restored after a long talk, who brought his wife to us, and has gone on to begin a church in an area where there was none, still faithful after thirty years

God sends you other encouragements if you just pay attention.  One neighbor had seen us leave every Sunday morning, and when suddenly she had custody of her three grandchildren, she called, wanting us to take them to church with us.  We certainly would have loved to have her as well, but we didn’t look down on the opportunity.  For two years those children were dressed and waiting every Sunday morning at 8:00.  I have no idea if that has borne fruit, but I do know this—when the woman died, her children asked Keith to speak at her memorial.  Something had been planted and it did have some effect.  That’s all God asked us to do. Perhaps you would like to share a few stories of your own below to encourage others.

Sowing the seed is not a part-time job.  For a Christian, it’s a career.  Get on with it.  No one will be judged by the results.  Just remember that every person you come across is a potential field and everything you do can affect the results of your planting.  That is what you will be judged on, not the number of splashes.

God wants sowers.  He wants waterers, and, we hope, plenty of harvesters.  The seed will yield its crop, but don’t get so busy counting ears of corn that you forget to plant the next row.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:10-11

Dene Ward