I started taking piano lessons when I was about seven years old.  It was not “formal” training in a studio, but just a few lessons from a friend of my mother’s to see if I was interested.  I still remember the first lesson, the first book I had, and the first tune in it.  “C-D-E made a boat; round and round the pond he’d float.”
            A few months later this friend told my parents I needed a “real” teacher.  Frankly, I think she was just fine as a teacher.  I learned the keys, the notes, and how to count in a few short weeks, but she insisted so off we went. 
            My next teacher had recitals.  I still remember that first recital too, and I can still play my first recital piece:  “Arab Horsemen” by Hazel Cobb.  Those horsemen were a long way from the guy named “CDE” and his boat.  Instead of one hand playing three notes, I had both hands running over six octaves on the piano, and a whole page played with my arms crossed!
            As I sat in the student row waiting my turn to play I saw other students wringing their hands or wiping sweat off their palms onto their skirts or pants.  What was the problem, I wondered?  It never dawned on me that they were nervous about playing in front of people.  I wasn’t nervous.  I knew my piece and could play it flawlessly.  What was the big deal?
            A few years later we had moved and the new teacher entered me in a talent competition in the County Fair.  Once again I was mystified by the nervous entrants around me.  I had a great piece and knew it inside and out.  I had spent three hours one particular day analyzing every note, every nuance of phrase, and every dynamic marking.  I got up and played it, and won a blue ribbon. 
            The next year I entered another competition.  This time the piece was more difficult.  It was written only a year or two before by Aaron Copland, a contemporary American composer.  It did not make much sense to my classically oriented ear.  Going from this note to the next seemed totally at random to me and I had a difficult time memorizing it.  But the rules for that category said I had to play it.  
            For the first time in my life I was not comfortable waiting my turn.  Then when I got up to play, it happened--I went totally blank.  I could not even start the piece.  The judges were kind.  They let me look at the first line.  Then I walked back to the piano and my daily practice automatically kicked in.  I played it perfectly, and aced the Beethoven rondo that followed.  In fact, Beethoven felt like an old friend at that point.
            Ever since that day I have experienced what everyone else does—performance anxiety.  I played a solo professional recital once and was sick to my stomach about five minutes before I walked on.  That one time when I forgot what to play has never left me.  From then on I knew I was as mortal as anyone and I always wondered when it would happen again.  Actually it did happen once in the middle of my senior recital, a requirement for a degree in music education.  I was playing a sonata and made up about four bars on the second page of the first movement before Haydn’s music found its way back into my hands.  Good thing you get points for covering up a slip when you perform.  I still got my A.
            Can you imagine how those apostles felt when Jesus, the one they had always counted on to have the right answer at the right time suddenly left them?  He knew what would happen and gave them this promise:  And when they bring you to trial and deliver you up, be not anxious beforehand what you are to say but say whatever is given you to say, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit, Mark 13:11.  Can you imagine a more comforting promise?  I suppose that is why I have always had difficulties with those who claim that Paul misspoke in Acts 23:3, and that he had to apologize.  Don’t they believe that God kept His promise to these brave men?  Try reading what Paul said with the same tone Elijah must surely have had when he spoke to the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18.  It wouldn’t be the first time that God used sarcasm through the voice of a man.  Either that or He broke His promise to Paul; you can’t have it both ways.
            Wouldn’t it be great to have that promise today?  But wait a minute--in a way we do.  Those men did not have the written word.  Paul himself promised that one day the gifts that allowed one to prophesy a part and another to prophesy another part would be done away because the entire revelation would be “perfect,” complete in all details (1 Cor 13:8-12.  That is what we have—the whole shebang.
            So why do we experience performance anxiety when someone asks a question, or when it comes time to speak up in the face of false teaching?  Is it because we are just a little anxious about choosing exactly the right way to say it, or is it because we didn’t prepare ourselves with daily practice, analyzing and memorizing?  One is understandable, the other is inexcusable.  We may not have all the answers on the tips of our tongues as they did, but we have the source of those answers if we will just take the time to look.  “I don’t know, but I can find out,” may be a better testimony than acting like we do know it all.  It tells our friends, if an ordinary guy like him can find it, so can I.
            Those 13 men never knew when they would be called upon to speak up for God.  We don’t either.  Start practicing what to say; start considering all the possibilities. God has given you what you need, but it’s up to you to make use of it.
 
I will hope continually and praise you yet more and more.  My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day for their number is past my knowledge.  With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, yours alone.  Psalm 71:14-16.
 
Dene Ward
           
 

Everett Ferguson could very well be the most acclaimed Biblical scholar the Lord's body has ever produced.  Last year we reviewed the new edition of his Backgrounds of Early Christianity.  A mere look through that large volume will convince you that this man knows what he is talking about, especially when it comes to black and white facts.
            Here in this older work he has attempted to examine everything he can possibly find about the musical practices of the first century New Testament church.  He leaves no stone unturned as he delves into New Testament evidence, secular evidence, and historical evidence before even considering doctrinal ramifications.  He even does his best to find "Statements Favorable to Instruments" and can only find a very few, all of which deal with non-religious private functions. 
            He spends a good deal of time quoting the writers of the period who, when even mentioning instruments, by and large use them in figurative ways such as, "The psalterion is the pure mind moved by spiritual knowledge.  The kithara is the practical soul moved by the commandments of Christ" (Origen of Alexandria).  Quotes like that are plenteous.  He also mentions that the Greek Orthodox Christians, who divided from the Roman Catholic Church and certainly knew the Greek language better than any of us, objected to instrumental music accompanying the worship and still sing a capella.  (As an aside, they also know the Greek word baptizo and will not practice sprinkling for the same reason.)  The very term a capella means "in the style of the church," an open confession to the fact that everyone knew you did not have musical instruments in Christian worship.
            Another factor he discusses is the very nature of the worship in the church.  While Jewish worship in the Temple was all about ritual and physical show, the church became the spiritual Temple and its worship a spiritual worship.  Once synagogues began, even Judaism did away with the instruments.  Their worship had become centered on the Word of God rather than spectacle and they felt it no longer had a place.  Interesting, to say the least.
            A final section on doctrine should leave you convinced.  If nothing else matters, a capella singing will not lead to division while forcing an instrument into the worship will send those who feel they can no longer worship acceptably out the door. 
            I found this book listed by more than one publisher.  It is available on Amazon, Abebooks, Thriftbooks, and Ebay, and probably others.  Be sure you get the one by Everett Ferguson.
 
Dene Ward          
 

In Thomas Wolfe's novel You Can't Go Home Again, George Webber concludes, "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time…"
            Whenever Keith talks about Arkansas, he says, “Back home.”  It used to bother me a little.  Home should be where I am, shouldn’t it?  Then I realized that I could never have the feelings of a place that he did.  I never lived in just one place as a child, and the place I lived longest is not the place I go to when I visit my parents.  They left that place a year after I married and have lived in nearly half a dozen places since. 
            It is ironic that one of my sons lives there now, the place I would have called home, but when I go visit him, it has been so long since it was home, and it has changed so much, that I never even think of it that way any more.  The longest I have ever lived in any one place is the place I live now, and as Keith and I head into our senior years, I can foresee a time, though I hope not too soon, when we will have to leave it.  Even as small a plot as five acres takes a lot of labor, and it is a long way from the folks we count on to care for us when we become too old and disabled to take care of it and ourselves.
            Christians should be careful about those feelings of “home.”  Home should never be about a place, but about people, and about Truth.  I have seen churches divide over doctrines, divisions that were necessary.  Yet people who should have known better stayed—they were converted to a place, a building, not to the Lord.
            And Christians in our society have another problem—one that the poverty stricken brethren in places like Nicaragua and Zimbabwe never have to deal with—we have become entirely too comfortable.  We are so “at home” in our rich lives that we don’t want to give them up.  Persecution, even simply the ridicule and criticism of others, is too much to bear.  There is always a good reason not to speak up when sin becomes accepted, and not to behave differently.   Even if there is no persecution, we have a problem singing, “This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through.”  This is home and we want to stay as long as possible.
            We must make ourselves see beyond the here and now.  We must force ourselves to realize that where and how we are living today is not our goal.  Eternity is difficult enough to comprehend without focusing on what is right in front of us as if it were the only thing that counted.  Here is the truth of the matter:  compared to Eternity our lives are not even a drop of water in the entire ocean. 
            Christians have the promise that one day we will never again be homesick.  Heaven is the home we have all been looking for, the place we will live forever.  We will never have to leave.  We will never sit pining and wishing for the good old days.  The “dreams of glory” Thomas Wolfe spoke of will be there and then.  But perhaps in Eternity “then” will no longer have a meaning.  It will be Now—a capital letter Now that never ends.
 
Being therefore always of good courage, and knowing that, while we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; we are of good courage, I say, and are willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be at home with the Lord, 2 Cor 5:6,8.
 
Dene Ward
 

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

Our compact SUV gets 35.5 mpg on the average, a few tenths more on long trips. I am that guy who irritates you by accelerating slowly and coasting up to red lights. I laugh at those who speed by me to brake at the same light as I coast up beside them. Once a mechanic told me three five-thousand mile checkups in a row that I would need new brakes the next visit. Traded that one with the same brake pads. Gas and brakes are both expensive and I am cheap.

Unfortunately, our average mpg counter is connected to our trip meter which rolls over to zero every 10,000 miles and which happened while we were in town today. We were treated to the erratic "average" ranging from 2mpg to 22mpg as we accelerated or idled at red lights. (PSA! Those automatic turn off features for red lights rarely save gas and wear out your starter motor). The average was based on only a few miles. Once we got on the interstate on the way home (in the right late at 64mph—avoid frustration and sin get there 10 minutes later), the average climbed steadily to an unrealistic 38.8mpg! Even our .4 mile, 5mph max, rough driveway left it at 38 when we pulled into the carport.  

Sometimes we need to be more forgiving and encouraging with new Christians. Their average is starting off at zero and their growth may well resemble the erratic average (?) our car exhibited since their average is based on only a short time. Strong one day, carnal the next minute; impressive for a time and then inexplicably downhill into sin. Yes, they need correction, reproof even, but mostly they need Barnabas (Acts 4:36). Such men were rare even in Bible times or his actions would not have earned Joseph this nickname.

And even more mature Christians often could raise their average a good bit. Just like a long day in town lowers our mpg, a rough patch in life can lower one's spirituality unless he is on guard or gets help. Unfortunately, our American culture frowns on being so weak as to need or, God forbid, ask for help. An elder once commented, "How could he sit in church and participate (and teach) for so many years and believe that?" (after the man quit and still claimed to be right with God). I wonder if someone might say something like that about some of my behavior? It frightens me that so many can attend faithfully and go to work the next day and discuss shows like, "Game of Thrones" with their coworkers, or movies that are even worse. If it is wrong to do, why is it right to watch? How can the world know that being a Christian is special, moral, godly?

These are not modern problems, the church at Ephesus had been in existence about eight years and the first three under Paul's personal tutelage yet he wrote: "But you did not so learn Christ," "Put away the old man that is corrupted by the lusts of deceit," "Put away falsehood," "Steal no more," "Let no corrupt speech come out of your mouth," "But let not fornication and…covetousness be named among you" (Eph 4:20-5:3, sel). Two or three years later he wrote Timothy at Ephesus that "Men might know to behave themselves in the …church of God" (1Tim3:15). Over thirty years later, Jesus accused that they had left their first love, they were just holding church and practicing no wrong (Rev 2:4).

Every New Testament epistle was written to Christians and nearly every one commands that they cease practicing immorality (Gal 5:16-25; Col 3:5-10; 1Thess 4:1-5; 1Pet 2:1, 11, 4:1-5) with many encouragements to "Not let sin reign." (Rom 6:12).

Sometimes it appears that Christians are on cruise control, content to average 30 mpg the remainder of their lives. Their differences from society are so slight that no one will be prompted to ask concerning the hope that is within them (1Pet 3:15). Where is the eagerness to learn more? To grow to a new level? To leave your old average in the dust?
 
"Don't you know that they that run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? EVEN SO RUN; that you may attain. And every man that STRIVES in the games exercises self-control in all things. Now they do it to receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible. I therefore so RUN, as not uncertainly; so FIGHT I, as not beating the air: but I buffet my body, and bring it into bondage: lest by any means, after that I have preached to others, I myself should be rejected." (1Cor 9:24-27).
 
 Keith Ward
(For a companion piece to this article, go to the right sidebar and click on August 2017, then scroll down to "Mass and Momentum.")

A landmark is defined as an artificial or natural object or feature of a landscape that stands out, is visible from a distance, and helps establish one's location.  If ever a landmark does that it is the St Louis Arch.  Officially called the Gateway Arch as part of the Gateway Arch National Park, it stands 630 feet high along the banks of the Mississippi River.  It was designed by Eero Saarinen, begun on February 12, 1963, and completed on October 28, 1965.
            Also called, "The Gateway to the West," it was designed to memorialize the pioneers who traveled to and civilized the West, and to denote St Louis as their official jumping off point.  Other notable events are also commemorated in the entire park, which stretches to the Old Courthouse—brave explorers, women's rights, and civil rights among them.  The arch is the most visited tourist attraction in the world.  All in all, the St Louis Gateway Arch amply qualifies as a landmark.
          Landmarks are important.  When we go on a one week camping vacation, we always stay Saturday night in a hotel in the closest town we can find with a church.  There are seldom any groups of God’s people within 50 miles of a mountain campground, and many of these are small groups.  A couple of times Keith has even preached for them.
            One time we were returning to the same area two years in a row and he was able to make those preaching arrangements ahead of time.  We wanted to be sure we were on time so those poor brethren would not be frantic, but we had accidentally left the directions at home.  So we asked the hotel desk clerk to Google the church website for the address and meeting times.  When he did, all three of us were in for a surprise.
            He gave us the address then said, “6429?  I grew up at 6425 on the same street.  I know where that church is.  It’s two doors down from my dad.”
            Yet he had not recognized the “name.”  He did not know the service times, which were posted on the sign when we got there.  He didn’t know they had a website, though a large banner promoting it hung outside the building.  So much for the importance of “signs.”  He was in his mid-20s, had grown up practically next door, and knew none of those things.  Do you know why?  Because he didn’t know the names of any who assembled in that building.
            The building does not draw people.
            The sign does not draw people.
            The website does not draw people.
            All those things are for people who are already looking, many of whom even know what they are looking for--like Christians traveling through on vacation.  Since when is the mission of the church to make sure that traveling brethren can find us? 
            The gospel is what draws people, but as Paul asks in Romans 10:14, how shall they hear without a preacher?  Since we no longer have miracles to “confirm the word,” the world has to know us and know our lives before they will listen.
            It took me years to learn to talk about my wonderful brothers and sisters instead of just spouting scriptures or waiting for someone to ask me a Bible question.  I have invited many to services and to Bible studies, but forgot to tell them that being with these people was half the reason for going and in the beginning, it might be their main reason for wanting to come back.  And I forgot to tell them how much better my life was simply for allowing the Lord to lead my way.  I was too busy making sure I had some scriptures memorized for appropriate occasions and waiting for those circumstances to somehow pop up on their own.
            What does your meetinghouse mean to the neighborhood it sits in?  Do they know anything about you?  Even if all they think is, “Those people believe you have to follow the Bible exactly,” that’s better than nothing.  It means they have had contact with a person, not just a sign or a building.
            Don’t let your meetinghouse be nothing more than a landmark.  The church is supposed to show people the way.  “Go past the church and we are the second house on the right,” is not what the Lord had in mind.
 
 From you has sounded forth the word of the Lord, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place your faith to God-ward is gone forth…1 Thes 1:8.   
The righteous is a guide to his neighbor…Prov 12:26.  
 
Dene Ward

Otto Wichterle was born on October 27, 1913 in Prostejov, Moravia.  Because he did not want to work at his father's machinery factory, he went on to study chemistry and became interested in plastics.  He was jailed for a while by the Gestapo, but eventually released and became a professor and textbook author at the Czech Technical University.  Over the years he made many discoveries and in December 1961 created the first soft contact lens with a child's erector set and a phonograph motor.  Sounds a little like MacGyver to me.  Leonardo da Vinci, who had first imagined contact lenses, would have been proud.
            Not quite that far back a young doctor decided to try contact lenses on my nanophthalmic (one 15 and the other 16 mm), hyperopic/aphakic (scrip +17.25), steep-cornea-ed, corrugated, football-shaped eyeballs.  Everyone told him he was crazy, that it was impossible.  Somehow, amid all the discouraging words, he managed to make it work.  For the first time in my life I could see more than the fish-eyed tunnel in front of me. 
            These were the original hard contact lenses.  He had sat me down and told me that the only way I could possibly wear them in my “special” eyes was to want to wear them.  I did not realize till much later how wise he had been.  They were incredibly uncomfortable, especially on my deformed eyeballs, but I saw so much more that I knew I would never give them up, regardless the pain.
            Seven years later rigid gas-permeable lenses became available through overseas channels.  They were a tiny bit more comfortable, but more important, they kept my eyes healthier.  I wore those for thirty-five years.  Finally a type of soft lens has been developed that I can actually wear with no ill-effects.  Not only that, but they cause no strange visual effects either—no starbursts, no fish-eyes, no distortions at all.  It seems ironic that they have come now when my vision is failing, but I am not complaining.
            I have had to learn different methods of insertion, removal, and overnight care.  This thing is so much more comfortable that sometimes I am not certain it is in.  The many surgeries I have had have changed me from hyperopic to myopic, and my vision, even with the lens, is far from perfect.  That is why I did not realize for about an hour that I did not have the lens in my eye the other morning. 
            At first, when the usual blur did not clear up right away, I thought it was just one of those days when I was not going to see well.  They happen often enough.  Finally I put my finger to my eyeball and touched only eyeball—I knew the lens had not made it into my eye.  So where was it?
            I ran back to the bathroom, got on my hands and knees and felt across the floor from the door to the vanity cabinet, the only way I could possibly find it down there.  No lens.  At least I knew I wasn’t going to step on it.  So I stood up and I felt across the entire vanity countertop.  No lens. 
            Finally I took the hand towel off the rack.  I always open the lens case over a towel because of the fluid in it.  I felt one side of the towel and then turned it over.  Still no lens, but when I picked up the towel again, there was the lens under it, finally having fallen off the towel with a tiny little “clink.” It was as solid as one of my old hard lenses.  That nice soft lens material had dried up even in the humid bathroom air.
            I soaked it in saline a couple of hours and it came back to life.  Finally I could see again, at least as well as I ever do these days.
            I came across a passage the other day. The light of the wicked shall be put out, and the spark of his fire shall not shine. His strength shall be hunger-bitten, and calamity shall be ready at his side. His roots shall be dried up beneath, and above shall his branch be cut off. His remembrance shall perish from the earth, and he shall have no name in the street, Job 18:5, 12, 18, and 19.
            Trying to live your life without Christ will dry you up.  I do not understand how people who do not have the hope He offers can handle life’s problems, and especially how they can handle dying.  They have nothing to live for, and certainly nothing to die for.
            We have said it over and over.  The grace of God not only gives you salvation, it helps you overcome temptation, bear tragedies, and face death.  If I turn into a dried up, bitter old woman, it is because somewhere along the line I refused to make use of that grace. 
            I wince, thinking about the pain I would have felt if I had tried to put that desiccated contact lens into my eye.  We sometimes go about with pain that we needn’t bear.  A good long soak in the grace and goodness of God makes it possible to live this life to the fullest and look forward to the one to come.
 
Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. He that believes on me, as the scripture has said, from within him shall flow rivers of living water, John 7:37,38.
 
Dene Ward
 

A few years ago, some young parents we knew had a child whom they discovered was legally blind.  It was possible that nothing could be done for that child, even with glasses or lenses, to correct his vision.  Because I was a child who was visually disabled myself, I wrote this letter to them.  I thought it might also be a help to you or someone you know who has a child who is disabled in any way.  Feel free to share it with anyone it might possibly help.
*****************************************************************************
We were so sorry to hear about your little one’s condition.  When your child is hurt, there is nothing quite like the pain in your heart.  Any loving parent would instantly trade places to spare him.  We will continue to think of you and especially to pray for your comfort, and that your precious little one gets the help he needs, and perhaps even less disability than you have been told.  Our God can indeed work wonders.
            But for now, may I please be so bold as to offer you a little advice?  My current vision problem did not just suddenly start—I was born with it, but no one realized it, not even my parents.  In those days children were not checked as often or as completely as they are today.  As a result, my parents treated me exactly like they would have any child.  The first four years of my life I saw nothing but a blur of color, but I was the only one who knew that, and of course, I thought everyone was that way and did not complain.  I was, in fact, legally blind, yet I still learned to feed and dress myself.  They were able to potty train me.  I memorized quickly because I couldn’t see, and that has stuck with me, at least until now when age has affected it some.  Still I probably remember things better than most people my age.
            Even after they realized something was wrong, the doctor himself did not recognize exactly what the problem was, just that “she has really bad vision.”  You probably know something about magnification in lenses.  My magnification was +17.25 and that only got me to 20/40 on a good day, and that was not even the worst of my issues.  Yet I still learned to function.  When you can’t see well you notice things that other people don’t. 
            Even with correction I couldn’t see faces across a lawn or a parking lot or even a large room.  But I knew people by their walks and hand gestures.  If I had seen them earlier in the day, I remembered the color they wore.  I couldn’t read street signs, but I knew there was a tree on that corner, or a pothole just before the turn.  You adapt when your survival, whether life and death or simply getting along in society, depends on it.
            Even if I eventually lose it all, which is probable, I still plan to be independent as long as possible.  I will probably be a widow someday, but I do not want to live with anyone, or in some care facility, until it is absolutely necessary.  I feel that way because of how I was raised.
            You need to give your child that same spirit of independence.  One thing is good and I say this from experience:  since he was born this way, he will not know what he is missing.  Don’t you make him miserable by treating him like there is something missing.  The best gift you can give him is the one my parents gave me, even if it was accidental:  treat him like a normal child.  He is normal; normal for him!  Help him learn how to get along.  Push him.  Tell him he can do it, even when you aren’t sure he can.  You’d be surprised what can be accomplished simply because a person thinks he can.  This is the loving thing for parents in your position to do.  Babying him is not.  I will be forever grateful that I was not babied—it has made me strong and able to bear far more than most.
            Now comes the hard part:  don’t let anyone baby him, and that includes grandparents.  You may have to put your foot down once in a while.  Do not be afraid to tell them, “No.”  You can do it kindly and with respect, but you have to be the one who stands up for your child against anyone’s misguided attempts to shelter him.  He is your child and God will hold you accountable for his care.  You might need to remind them of that once in a while. 
            Treating him as a normal child will also mean disciplining him that way.  It is hard enough to scold or spank the little hands of a perfectly healthy child.  You must be strong enough to do this.  Your child is counting on you to turn him into a faithful child of God and save his soul.  If you let him have his way because of his “problem,” you are only creating more problems for him to overcome—you are not loving him like you think you are.  I am forever grateful to my parents for not turning me into a selfish, and self-absorbed, adult.
            God has a purpose for all of his children, and your little one will grow up better able to serve those who have disabilities than those who have none ever could.  He will understand and sympathize and think of things that other people do not—another thing that Keith and I have discovered as our disabilities have increased.  No one even thinks to consider what we can or cannot hear, can or cannot see.  Only the disabled give us that consideration. And thus the disabled are enabled to help others.  But he won’t perform that service if you raise him to think that he is the center of the universe because of his disability.
            Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you.  Do not be too proud to use Blind Services or anything else offered to you.  It is not sinful to take help.  It will be nice to know that someone who really deserves our tax money is making use of it.  And do not be afraid, or too proud, to ask for whatever help you need from your brothers and sisters in the Lord, including us.  That’s why God put us here.
            We are praying for you as you take this journey.  It will be hard at times, but other times it will bring you even more joy than the parents of the perfectly healthy children.  Just you wait and see!
 
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. 2Cor 1:3-4

Dene Ward
 

"But I've been baptized and that's all that really matters."
            We wish we had a dollar for every time we have heard that statement.  Do you know when it comes up?  When you go to visit a fallen member, hoping to bring him back to the Lord.  "Yes, I know I don't (attend services like I should, study like I should, pray as I ought) and I know I (drink a little, need to watch my language, and hang out too often with people who are not righteous while avoiding Christians as much as possible) but I've been baptized so I'm okay!"
            Do you know why that happens?  Because we neglect to teach that baptism should be the start of a lifelong commitment to the Lord.  Instead we dunk people like Oreos in a glass of milk and they think "Now my sins are gone and I'm all right."  It's our own version of "once-saved-always-saved."
            Parents may be the worst.  They push baptism to the point that their child has nightmares and begs to be baptized, even if they are just 8 years old and wouldn't know what lifetime commitment truly meant if it bit them.  No!  You teach them to commit.  Then when that happens, you tell them, "This is how you show that commitment, by obeying God in this command," which also happens to be how you wash those sins away.  It takes both.
            Or are ye ignorant that all we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him through baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life… For the death that he died, he died unto sin once: but the life that he lives, he lives unto God. Even so reckon you also yourselves to be dead unto sin, but alive unto God in Christ Jesus. " (Rom 6:10-11).
         Baptism is not a magic bullet.  If you don't live like you have been baptized, showing that commitment every day of your life, it doesn't do you one bit of good.
 
Know ye not, that to whom ye present yourselves as servants unto obedience, his servants ye are whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness? But thanks be to God, that, whereas ye were servants of sin, ye became obedient from the heart to that form of teaching whereunto ye were delivered; and being made free from sin, ye became servants of righteousness (Rom 6:16-18).
 
Dene Ward

After thirty-seven years on this property, you would think we had seen it all, but this summer had something new in store for us. 
            One evening in June, as Keith worked in the office, he looked out the west window and saw a red fox.  Obviously a large kit, what we would call an adolescent, he sniffed around exploring the place where we have our muscadines running along a fence wire, as well as a grape arbor to its immediate east sheltering a swing Lucas made in shop class oh, so long ago.  What was he after?  Worms, it looked like, which he dug up and ate again and again.  Later in the week we watched him run up the ditch to the east, always in the evening, several evenings in a row.  Then the fun started.  We caught sight of him out the office window again, but suddenly he looked up toward the woods just across the north fence.  We followed his line of sight and there stood another one!  It came over to meet him and they began to play, just like puppies, chasing one another around, knocking each other over and play-fighting.  Then we saw another—and another—and another!  Five of them running, cavorting, exploring, and having a grand old time as children will.
            They continued to grow and fill out as summer passed, and we knew that soon they would all scatter—they leave the den at seven months, after being born between January and March.  In our warmer climate, we assumed January was the likelier date.  And yes, now we see only one, a mature adult, and as far as we know it could even be one of the original parents.  But we were in for another surprise.
            One evening Keith once again spied the lone fox out in the grapes.  This time he was walking along them, pulling them off the vine and eating them!  When he finished that level, he stood on his hind legs and proceeded to eat the next "row" and so on until he had eaten as high up as he could reach.  We had wondered why this year's meager crop had suddenly disappeared.  Now we know.  Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyard…
Song of Solomon 2:15.  They certainly do.
            I studied the Song of Solomon under Homer Hailey so I learned what is called "the three person view."  I am quite aware that most others use the two person view—which I have tried again and again, but still can't understand.  My dear teacher told us all that the foxes represented Solomon trying to spoil the faithful and true love of the Shepherdess and her Shepherd boyfriend.  Whoever you think the foxes are, let me just use this metaphor today:  "the little foxes" are the little things that can hurt an otherwise sound marriage.  I sent out some feelers to several people, asking them for the little things they think can ruin a relationship.  Not adultery.  Not abuse.  Not addictions.  Little things.  The things we scarcely notice but which take a toll, day after day after day.  Today, let's talk about "the little foxes" they sent me in their answers.
            1.  Lack of respect and common courtesy.  I have heard spouses talk to one another like hired hands—hired hands who don't do the job well, in fact.  They demand, they order, they scold, they gripe, they insult.  I have even heard a Christian wife do this to her husband in public.  The same people would never think of speaking to a neighbor that way, or a colleague, even one they didn't much like.  Courtesy and kindness seem to be saved for strangers—or maybe it's for the people who pay one's salary.  A spouse doesn't pay us so we don't have to be so careful, I guess.  Could you please, thank you honey, what a great job, all go a long way in smoothing out the road of a sometimes rough life.  Don't make it worse than it has to be.
            2.  No communication.  Sometimes I see couples who might as well not live together for all they communicate with one another.  The solution:  Don't just talk to one another, but speak as friends and confidantes.  If you are not friends, why did you marry in the first place?  Do the things that make for friendship, and that means spending time together talking.  You should have the same goals in your marriage—helping one another get to Heaven.  Raising your kids so as to save their souls.  Working for the Lord together.  These things should give you ample time together to cement that relationship.  And good communication means you are not so likely to "imagine" ulterior motives.  We have certain times we set aside nearly every day, just to sit and talk.  That and a cup of coffee by the fire can mend a little rift that occurred a few moments or even a day before.  And be aware—little rifts can gradually become giant tears in the fabric of a marriage if they are not mended.
            3.  Unreasonable expectations.  We grow up on fairy tales and happily ever after.  Prince Charming always wears clean clothes and shaves.  The Princess always has her make-up just so.  No, they don't, either of them.  Life is not a fairy tale.  Life is hard work.  Raising children is really hard work.  Trials and tribulations happen. Sometimes he is sweaty and stinky from working outside—for you and the family!  Sometimes she is in old sweats with her hair all over the place from cleaning house, chasing kids, doing laundry, and myriad other things.  Grow up and don't expect otherwise.  He won't always do what you want, especially if you don't bother to tell him what that is.  Contrary to popular myth, men cannot read minds.  Contrary to popular retirement myth, she does not receive great joy from standing there watching you do your thing hour after hour.  Be reasonable.  Be realistic.  And back to number 2, talk about it.
            4.  Focusing on the things we don't like.  It has not been that long since I wrote an entire post on this one.  Can I just quote a little of it?  "I am sure that you have done it too, at least once in all these years, on a day when things were not going well and your heart was aching and your mind was in a whirl, you have said to yourself, "What was I thinking?"  About what, you ask?  About why you married that particular person.
            Some folks might say, "You weren't," thinking, that is.  But the truth is that you were.  You were thinking about how wonderful he was and all the sweet things he said and did when he was courting you.  That's all you were thinking about—the good, the overwhelming good, that wins someone's heart.
            And today, when you asked yourself that other question?  Well, today you were thinking about the bad, the frustrating, irritating, aggravating, thoughtless things he does, and you were dwelling on them over and over and over…stop focusing on the bad, the things you don't like about him or her.  Start remembering the good things he does for you, the sweet remembrances, the kind gestures, the handpicked wildflowers and the cup of coffee before you get out of bed.  And remember, he sometimes asks himself that question too, so give him some good things to think about today."
            Small things, yes?  But things that can make a big difference.  Many of us understand commitment.  We understand that God hates divorce (Malachi 2).  And our marriages are really not that bad, but they are certainly a long way from what they could be with just a little effort.  Sit down today and talk about it together.  We found out in a short time that those cute little foxes can destroy a vineyard.  Don't let them destroy yours.
 
Live joyfully with the wife whom you love all the days of your life of vanity, which he has given you under the sun, all your days of vanity: for that is your portion in life, and in your labor wherein you labor under the sun (Eccl 9:9).
 
Dene Ward

One day recently, just to see what would happen, I googled one of my past devotionals, the one called “Chloe and the Green Beans.”  Now if I understand what the Google search engine does, it searches the internet to find places where all those words are used in more or less the same place.  Sort of like a Bible concordance lists all the passages that contain a certain word.  I was amused by what Google came up with.
            “But Chloe doesn’t like green beans…”
            “Chloe Green bought some beans.”
            “Joan Rivers spills the beans about celebrities including Tom Green and Chloe Kardashian.”
            “Chloe Intense—a new perfume with notes of rose, amber, pink pepper, and tonka beans”
            Finally on page 8, I found my devotional, “Chloe and the Green Beans.”
            I never dreamed that those words—“Chloe,” “green,” and “beans”-- had been put together in so many different ways. Some of those are from blogs, some articles, and some ads.  Do you think the “Chloe” in all those snippets referred to the same Chloe?  Of course not.  And then I thought, that is exactly how some people try to study the Bible—they google it, in method if nothing else.  They see a word in one passage and then simply look for it in another, assuming it means the same thing, regardless of the fact that different authors are writing about different topics to different audiences many, sometimes hundreds of years, apart.
            They see the words “the coming of the Lord” and “judgment” and decide that, even though one is in Isaiah and one is in Matthew and one is in Peter, they must all be talking about the same “coming of the Lord”—which they inevitably view as the final Day of Judgment.  They see similar language in the book of Revelation and decide the same thing, regardless of John saying, “These things must shortly come to pass.”
            They also completely ignore to whom the words were originally written and what they meant in the context of the time and circumstances.  For example, when you said the phrase, “the promise” to a Jew, you would create a far different understanding than you would to a Gentile.  Jews who heard or read “the promise” would see it in their minds in all caps on a flashing neon sign.  They had been looking for “THE PROMISE” for thousands of years.  Remember that when you read passages like Acts 2:39, which was originally spoken to a Jewish audience.
            Things also become skewed when you forget that the Bible was not written in English.  Just because the same English word is used in two different places, does not mean it is the same Hebrew or Greek word.  Just as English has many words for “bread” that limit its meaning (biscuit, loaf, bagel, scone, muffin, etc), those people had different words for things that might have been translated into one English word.  Did you know that in the Bible there were several Hebrew or Greek words used for queen?  One meant “a daughter of royalty.”  Another meant “queen-mother.”  Still another simply meant “the king’s wife.”  A really strange one meant “the moon.”  Yet they are all translated “queen” in our language.  That one is not too important, but there are other words that make a much larger difference in your understanding of the scriptures, and that is why you must learn how to use a concordance, either on a computer program or a real book. 
            What started out as simple curiosity that afternoon at the computer reminded me of some important things about Bible study.  Be careful with the word of God.  It isn’t a comic book, so it takes some thought.  It isn’t a thriller, so you sometimes have to make yourself plow through it.  It isn’t a romance, so you may find things in it you didn’t really want to find, like the fact that you need to change your life.  In the end, though, it’s worth every minute of study you put into it.
 
But we have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God's word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God… For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, 2 Cor 4:2,5,6.
 
Dene Ward