I do a lot of self-editing.  When you write as much as I do, you spend just about as much time fixing your errors as making them in the first place.  I find typos and grammar mistakes, misplaced words, and especially missing words because, despite my age, my mind still works faster than my fingers. 
            Since I took several writing courses, both in high school and college, I find I spend the most time on word choice.  In the first place, you want concrete nouns and verbs—words that appeal to the senses, helping you to see, hear, smell, taste, or feel the action.  It will save words and that brevity in its very terseness will stress the point you are trying to make.  You need to avoid delayers ("there is," or "there are") whenever possible.  As their name implies, they delay the point you want to make and that, too, will dilute its power.  And you want to avoid passive voice if you can.  In scholarly works, or even simple expository writing, that is not always possible, but just a little effort will make your writing much easier to read and understand, and more likely to be remembered.
            Don't you wish we had time to edit our spoken words?  How many times have I said to myself, "I could have said that in a better way," or "I wish I hadn't said that at all?"
            You can see from the above that one of the things good writers try to do is omit extraneous words.  The same thing is true for watching your tongue.  The Proverb writer tells us that when words are many, transgression is not lacking (10:19), in other words, edit, edit, edit!  The less you say, the safer you will be.  James tells us how to accomplish that:  Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak… (Jas 1:19).  Slow down.  Listen and pay attention to what you hear.  Then think before you speak.  You are a lot less likely to need editing.
 
​Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble (Prov 21:23).
 
Dene Ward

The last time we went to visit, four year old Judah made up a game.  He had a pile of "buddies" (mainly stuffed animals) and picked up two.  These he carefully carried behind his back as he walked across the floor.  As he reached what must have been a predetermined point in his little mind, he suddenly dropped the two buddies, one at a time. 
            "Drop one, drop two," he said.  Then he turned around and looked.  Number two was placed in a "keep" pile, while number one was discarded across the room.  Then he picked up two more and did it again.  Before long he had two piles, each half the size of the one he began with.  Then he started the process all over again with the "keep" pile, adding yet more to the discard pile and leaving a smaller "keep" pile.  He did this several times until he had finally whittled it down to two buddies.  When he finished, he looked at the buddy who had "won" the game—the final "drop two" buddy.  He was not entirely pleased, so he gathered all the buddies from both piles together and started over again.
            This time, instead of carrying the buddies behind his back where, I suppose, he couldn't always remember which hand held what, he carried them in front of him.  He could see exactly who he was dropping when.  Occasionally he even hesitated before deciding which to drop first, the buddy which would then be discarded altogether.  Because he could see what he was doing, he was happy with the end result, which was Lucky the Tiger, his favorite.  Obviously, he had rigged the game.
            I began thinking about how he had made his choices.  If one was his brother's buddy and the other was his, his brother's was the first to go to the discard pile.  If one were a newer buddy, and the other an old favorite, the newer one fell victim to "Drop one."  Once he had culled it down to only his old favorites, life became a little more difficult.  In fact, the third time through the game, Leo the blankie actually displaced Lucky the Tiger.
            Now let's put feet on this little story.  Do we ever do the same thing?  Yes, we adults have been known to determine Truth not by what the scripture says but by who says it.  Did Brother Big Name Preacher say this, or some poor old nobody you never heard of?  Did my best friend in the congregation take this side and the guy I can hardly tolerate take the other?  Is this the view my blood family takes while someone I am not related to takes that one?
            Or maybe we make our choices based on how it affects us.  Would this view mean I need to admit wrong and change my life and that other one leave me to live as I want to?  Would it mean that my parents died in sin and I just can't bear to think such a thing?  Would it mean I need to disfellowship my good friends?  Would it mean my children are no longer considered faithful Christians, so I just won't consider the possibility that this scripture actually means that at all.  I've known more than one preacher whose views on divorce and remarriage changed when family was suddenly involved.  Honestly considering the scriptures with rational, logical thought had nothing to do with it.
            Our first allegiance is supposed to be to God and His revealed Word, not family, not best friends, not famous people or those with more wealth or status.  We are not four years old.  We are supposed to have matured enough to make the hard decisions regardless the fallout.  "Drop one, drop two" is not a meaningless game with God.  He watches who and what you drop and why.  He knows how to play the game too, and He will not let His love for sinners influence His decisions about who to drop first if they refuse the Truth.
 
​Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. (Matt 10:37)

​If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26)

Dene Ward
           

The Second Continental Congress met in May of 1775.  One of the many things that group accomplished was the forerunner of our current postal system.  It seemed obvious to everyone that there needed to be a reliable line of communication between the Congress and the armies.  Thus Benjamin Franklin was named the Postmaster General on July 25, 1775.  Since he was still serving at the Declaration of Independence in July 1776, he is considered the first Postmaster General of the United States of America.  The postal system may have changed some since his day, but we have come to take it for granted as we complain mightily about everything from costs to service.  But that system has meant a lot to me through the years.
          When we first moved over a thousand miles from my hometown, I eagerly awaited the mailman every day.  As the time approached, I learned to listen from any part of the house for that “Ca-chunk” when he lifted the metal lid on the black box hanging by the door and dropped it in.  Oh, what a lovely sound!
            My sister often wrote long letters and I returned the favor, letters we added onto for days like a diary before we sent them off.  My parents wrote, Keith’s parents wrote, both my grandmothers wrote, and a couple of friends as well.  It was a rare week I did not receive two or three letters.  This generation with their emails, cell phones, and instant messaging has no idea what they are missing, the joy a simple “clunk” can bring when you hear it.
            I was far from home, in a place so different I couldn’t always find what I needed at the grocery store.  Not only were the brands different—and to a cook from the Deep South, brands are important—but the food itself was odd.  It was forty years ago and the Food Network did not yet exist.  Food was far more regional. 
          The first time I asked for “turnips,” I was shown a bin of purple topped white roots.  In the South, “turnips” are the greens.  I asked for black-eye pea and cantaloupe seeds for my garden, and no one knew what they were.  I asked for summer squash and was handed a zucchini.  When I asked for dried black turtle beans—a staple in Tampa—they looked at me like I was surely making that one up.
          So a letter was special, a taste of home in what was almost “a foreign land,” especially to a young, unsophisticated Southern girl who had never seen snow, didn’t know the difference between a spring coat and a winter coat, and had never stepped out on an icy back step and slid all the way across it, clutching at a bag of garbage like it was a life line and praying the icy patch ended before the edge of the stoop.
          Maybe that’s how the Judahite exiles first felt when they got Jeremiah’s letter, but the feeling did not last.  They did not want to hear his message.  They were sure the tide would turn, that any day now God would rescue Jerusalem and send Nebuchadnezzar packing.  But that’s not what Jeremiah said.
          The letter…said: “Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare… For thus says the LORD: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. Jer 29:3-8, 10.
           You are going to be here seventy years, they were told.  Settle down and live your lives.  It took a lot to get these people turned around.  Ezekiel worked at it for years.  They may have been the best of what was left, but they were still unfaithful idolaters who needed to repent in order to become the righteous remnant.
          Which makes it even more remarkable that they had to be told to go about their lives, and especially to “seek the welfare of the city,” the capital of a pagan empire.  To them that was giving up on the city of God, the Promised Land, the house of God, the covenant, and even God Himself.  And it took years for Ezekiel to undo that mindset and make them fit to return in God’s time, not theirs.
          But us?  We have to be reminded that we don’t belong here.  We are exiles in a world of sin.  Yes, you have to live here, Paul says, but don’t live like the world does.  This is not your home.  Peter adds, Beloved, I beseech you as sojourners and pilgrims… 1Pet 2:11.  Too many times we act like this is the place we are headed for instead of merely passing through.
          How many times have I heard Bible classes pat themselves on the back:  “We would never be like those faithless people.”  But occasionally even they outdo us.
 
These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. Heb 11:13
 
Dene Ward

"You're bringing the wrong class of people to church."
            He was a young, full-time preacher, and this particular congregation was quite sure they were the answer to any young preacher's prayer.  He was told that he was so lucky such a wonderful congregation hired him, a group so faithful that the Sunday morning attendance and the Wednesday night attendance were exactly the same, and who could certainly teach him a few things about being a gospel preacher.
            He was still new to the community and had no direct contacts nor any referrals from the members.  So he did it the old-fashioned way—he went out door-knocking, passing out literature and offering personal Bible studies.  He quickly discovered that the poorer, blue collar neighborhoods were the most accepting and willing to talk, even if only on the door step, while the upper middle-class were more likely to slam the door in his face.
            Gradually, several of the ones he had met and studied with came to church.  One Sunday, when four or five of them were standing to the side after services, not one member went to meet them and shake their hands.  Finally a younger couple, saw what was happening and headed straight to the visitors to meet them and greet them.  This should have shamed everyone else, all of whom were older and considered themselves pillars of the church, but it did not.  At the next business meeting, the statement at the top of this essay was made.  Never mind that the young preacher was the only one bringing anyone to church—they were not the preferred class.
            I hope you are completely horrified that such a thing would be said at all, much less by a former elder who had moved there from another location.  But take a minute now and examine your own hearts.  Who do you run to greet?  The well-dressed ones or the leather-clad tattooed ones?  The ones who obviously know how to act in a worship service, or the ones who haven't seen a razor in a week or a barber in a couple of months?  None of the people who were considered "the wrong class" were dirty, unshaven, loud, nor did they "act out" as some might say.  They simply did not wear jackets and ties, skirts and heels in a day when that is what everyone wore.
            Realize this—unless you were raised going to church, you might never have listened to someone knocking on your door.  People with solid marriages and strong nuclear families who do not have major problems, don't see a need for God.  The gospel has always spoken loudest to those who need it the most.  For behold your calling, brethren, that not many wise after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called (1Cor 1:26). 
         This congregation wanted to pick and choose the ones they thought worthy of them.  Jesus had a parable for them.  He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. ​I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner! I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted (Luke 18:9-14).
          People like me who have always been in a church building on Sunday morning, who never had difficulties being tempted by liquor, drugs, and promiscuity, need to be grateful for the legacy our parents left us and then be even more determined to help those who were not so fortunate.  When someone comes out of a pagan world, he has a lot more baggage to unpack and leave behind.  Let's welcome them gladly and help them do it.
 
Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him?...Let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation, and the rich in his humiliation, because like a flower of the grass he will pass away. For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. So also will the rich man fade away in the midst of his pursuits (Jas 2:5; 1:9-11).
 
Dene Ward

We were hiking a mountain trail, sometimes straight up, sometimes straight down.  A babbling brook ran to our left at the bottom of a fifty foot ravine, making miniature waterfalls over rocks and roots long before we reached the larger and taller falls, weeping into a pool and running on down the hill.  As we made our way over another rise and around a bend, the leaf-strewn trail suddenly dipped and we found ourselves in a cypress swamp.  What?
            Oh yes, I remembered, we were not in the mountains after all; we were in Florida.  Yet it would have been easy to have fooled a person who had slept through the trip over rivers with names like Suwannee and Ocklockonee, traveling deep into the piney woods of the Big Bend, down to the swamplands.  If they had wakened in the campground on the ridge overlooking the river valley below, and walked the first mile of the path, they would have thought they were on the Appalachian Trail somewhere.
            But the sight of those huge cypresses, the bottoms of their trunks billowing like the folds of a skirt in the water, their knees standing two and three feet high around them, would have given pause.  Suddenly they would realize the shrubbery beneath the trees in the woods wasn’t rhododendron and mountain aster, but palmetto and needle palms.  The ground wasn’t hardwood leaf mold over rock, but pine straw matting over red or yellow clay and sand.  This is Florida—perhaps different from most other places in the state, but Florida nevertheless. 
            Where are you spiritually?  Are you where you think you are?  Or did you sleep through the first half of your life, and when your spirituality awakened, look around and at first glance think, “Yes, this is the right place,” when it was only a close facsimile?  Did you find yourself among people who seemed to be doing the right thing and so fail to take a really close look at your surroundings? 
            Why are you where you are?  Is it just because this is where Mom and Dad put you, or because you checked the map and stayed awake for the trip, knowing why you made which turns, and not only how to tell others to get here, but why they should be here with you?
            If you are in the mountains of Appalachia, you will need to look out for a few rattlesnakes and copperheads, but those are shy reptiles that will usually run if given the opportunity.  In a Florida swamp you will also need to watch out for cottonmouths and alligators.  Cottonmouths are notoriously aggressive—they will charge from cover, and then chase you.  And alligators move faster than anything that ungainly has a right to.  If you are wary of the wrong dangers, you are much more likely to be taken unawares. 
            God expects you to know where you are spiritually and why you are there.  He doesn’t want people who are where they are simply out of convenience and family tradition.  Where is the service in that? 
            He expects you to look out for the dangers that might surround you.  How can you be alert if the dangers you expect are not the ones in that area?
            And how will you ever find God if you are not where you thought you were?
 
From there you will seek the Lord your God and you will find Him if you search after Him with all your heart and with all your soul, Deut 4:29.
 
Dene Ward

After my herb bed gave me fits one year, Keith spent some time completely digging it out and replacing the dirt with potting soil and composted manure.  That was $90 worth of dirt!  That means I am spending a lot more time, and even more money, caring for it so the original costs won’t be wasted.
            I have gone to a real nursery to find plants, larger and more established (and more expensive) than the discount store 99 cent pots.  I have dug trenches for some scalloped stone borders to help keep the encroaching lily bed out of it, and to dissuade any critters that might hide beneath the shed behind the bed from using it as a back door.
            I water it every day, and fertilize it every other week.  I pull out anything that somehow blows in and seeds itself in my precious black soil. 
            I have seedlings planted to finish the bed, varieties of herbs that are difficult to find as plants, which I had to carry in and out of the house time and time again due to the fluctuating spring temperatures.  Then they were transplanted into ever-increasing sized cups as they outgrew their tiny seed sponges, before finally reaching their permanent home in the herb garden bed. 
            I have invested so much time, energy, and money into this herb garden that I am not about to let it die.
            Why is it that we will work ourselves silly because of a monetary investment, while at the same time neglecting other things much more important to our lives?
            How about your marriage?  I say to every young couple I know, “Marriage is a high maintenance relationship.”  Right now, they think they will always be this close, always share every joy and every care.  They think there will never come a time when she wonders if he still loves her, or he wonders if she cares at all about the problems he must deal with at work.
            Life gets in the way.  If you want to stay as close as you are during that honeymoon phase, you have to tend your little garden.  Fix his favorite meal.  Send her flowers.  Put a love note in his lunchbox.  Take out the garbage without being asked.  Find a babysitter and go out on a date.  Just sit down after the kids are in bed--make them go to bed, people--and talk to each other.  And listen!  Pray together.  Study together.  Worship together.  Laugh together.  Cry together.
            What about your relationship with God?  Do you think you can maintain a close relationship with someone you don’t know?  He gave you a whole book telling you who He is, 1 Cor 2:11-13.  How much time do you spend with it?  How often do you talk to Him?  How can He help you when you never ask?  How can you enjoy being in the presence of someone with whom you have nothing in common?  Disciples want nothing more than to become like their teachers, 1 Pet 2:21,22; 2 Pet 3:18.
            None of that comes without effort.  You must spend some time and energy, maybe even make a few sacrifices to cultivate your relationship with God.  When you have invested nothing, it means nothing to you, and it shows. 
            Spend some time today improving your marriage, tending to your family relationships, cultivating your love and care for your brethren, and most of all, caring for your soul—pulling out the weeds, feeding it, nursing it along--so it will grow into a deeper, stronger, more fruitful relationship with your God.
 
Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap according to kindness; break up your fallow ground; for it is time to seek Jehovah, till he come and rain righteousness upon you, Hosea 10:12.
 
Dene Ward

Samuel Colt, the founder of the Colt Patent Fire-Arm Manufacturing Company was born in Hartford, Connecticut on July 19, 1814.  Perhaps his most famous gun is the Colt Single Action Army Peacemaker.
            Isn’t it ironic that “peacemaker” is the name of a gun?  The Peacemaker was designed in 1873 and the standard military service pistol until 1892.  I sometimes think we must have the same definition for “peacemaker”—a weapon of war. 
            More and more I see people starting fights over things not worth fighting about.  More and more I see people not only excusing their aggressive behavior, but justifying it as righteous.  Maybe it is because I am older now, but “zealous” no longer means “quick to fight” to me, and I think it never did to God.
            “Blessed are the peacemakers,” is not a concept foreign to the old law.  God’s people have always understood that righteousness is not about contention.  David is a prime example.
            He refused to harm Saul, whom he called “the Lord’s anointed,” even though Saul had sworn to kill him, 1 Sam 24:6.
            He bowed before Saul, even though he himself had been anointed king, 24:8.
            He promised not to harm Saul’s heirs, even though they might have tried to claim the throne God wanted him to have, 24:21,22.
            It’s easier when those around you have the same attitude, but David even managed to keep his peacemaking attitude when surrounded by warmongers, Psa 120:6,7.
            Yet this is a man who did fight for God, who lived in a time of a physical kingdom that fought physical wars against physical enemies.  He bravely went into battles and killed God’s adversaries, so much so that he was not allowed to build the Temple with his blood-stained hands, so we cannot call him a wimpy, namby-pamby by any means.  He simply knew when it was time to fight and when it wasn’t.  Like Paul in Acts 16:3 and Gal 2:3-5, he depended on the circumstances to help him decide what justified either action in exactly the same issue, and never let his passion for God push him further than he knew his Father would want.  It wasn’t about having his own way, about not allowing anyone to tell him what he could and couldn’t do.  In all things the ultimate mission, God’s mission, was his goal, not saving face.
            Jesus’ mission was the same—peace.  He brought peace between men (Eph. 2:12-14) and peace between man and God (Rom 5:1-2).  Then he told us that was our mission too—bringing peace to the world. 
            Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God.  Whose children are you?
 
It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife, but every fool will be quarreling. Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it. Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Finally, brothers, rejoice. Aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Prov 20:3; Psa 34:14; Heb 12:14; Rom 12:18; 2 Cor 13:11.
 
Dene Ward

A few years ago we lost our resident rodent killer, a three foot+ granddaddy of a garter snake that lived under the house.  For some reason, he decided to venture out one day while Keith was mowing and instead of turning the other direction, slithered right under the mower.  No more snake—well, actually a bazillion pieces of snake.  It was not long before we heard the noises begin beneath the floors—the scampering, the skittering, and the awful gnawing.  By the time the noises were noticeable and we could get into town for what we needed, we were infested.  At least they stayed under the house and never got inside. 
            So we brought home a couple of pails of rat poison and Keith crawled under the house and laid the small green blocks out on the bases of the pillars.  The next week, every block was gone.  He laid out more and the next week they were gone again.  Another trip to town and two more pails.  It took two months and $200 worth of poison for him to finally crawl under and find most of the poison still sitting there.  We had finally gotten them all.
            So why am I on about rat poison today?  Rat poison is 99% or more inactive ingredients.  In other words, the poison runs around half a percent of the product while the rest is good food for the rodents.  That's why they eat it.  It often has flavoring like peanut butter in it.  Again, that's why they eat it.  If it didn't look good, smell good, and taste good, it would not work!
            But I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve in his craftiness, your minds should be corrupted from the simplicity and the purity that is toward Christ (2Cor 11:3).
            False teaching looks good.  Much of it sounds right.  It's exciting and entertaining and just plain fun sometimes.  How could it possibly be wrong?  The same way rat poison can kill you.  The gospel is plain and simple and that's not enough for some people—they want more.  It has always been this way.  Look further on in that same passage above. 
            For if a person comes and preaches another Jesus, whom we did not preach, or you receive a different spirit, which you had not received, or a different gospel, which you had not accepted, you accept it well enough  (2Cor 11:4).  They had the same problem then that so many today have.  Please don't fall for it.  If you do, that wonderful, exciting new (and different) teaching will kill your soul as easily as all that rat poison took care of my rodent problem.
 
I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed (Gal 1:6-8).                                                                                                                    
Dene Ward

As a former piano teacher for many years, I cannot help but give advice occasionally.  So I was listening to a young student play one day, a beginner actually, and noticed that he had a problem with his finger numbers.  If you will notice on your own hands, if you hold them out in front of you, they run the opposite from each other, with both thumbs in the middle.  So in piano, where playing with the incorrect finger can keep one from increasing facility and smooth playing, knowing which finger is which is fundamental.  I have always taught my beginners the little saying, "Tommy Thumb is finger 1, finger 3 is tallest finger, finger 5 if smallest finger."  Then I have them hold their hands together so that the fingers of each hand match, and count 1-2-3-4-5, moving the correct finger of each hand with each number.  Then when they spread their hands apart, they can see that the hands are mirror images of each other and do not run in the same direction.  It worked for forty years with countless students.
            So when I saw this little guy playing fingers 1—1—2-3-4---, when he should have been playing 5—5—5-4-3---, I knew he had not gotten the memo, so to speak.  After he finished playing (the whole left hand backwards), I applauded and complimented his rhythm and his touch and then asked if I could show him something.  He was an amenable little guy, so we went through the Tommy Thumb rhyme a couple of times, along with the rest of the routine.  He looked at me long and hard, then started playing again and played exactly the same thing—wrong.  Then he got up from the piano and flounced off, stopping only to turn around and say, "My thumb is NOT Tommy!"
            I must say that I laughed.  It was funny.  And it was new for me, something that had never happened before.  But then, maybe it had.
            A long, long time ago, God sent the prophet Nathan to tell King David a story as if it were real.  After hearing the story, which I am sure you have all heard (2 Sam 12:1-6, just in case), David was incensed.  He pronounced an instant judgment on the evil man Nathan had spoken of.  You see, he didn't get it.  His thumb was NOT Tommy.  Finally, Nathan had to say, "Thou art the man" (2 Sam 12:7).  When it's YOUR thumb, when you are the one being talked about, the picture which had been so very clear, suddenly becomes muddy.  We are all prone to it.
            The most difficult part of studying the Bible is, and always has been, applying the message to oneself.  No one wants to admit wrong, especially when it becomes crystal clear exactly how wrong one has been.  James talks about looking in the mirror and then walking away without changing a thing (James 1:23-24).  If I see my hair is a mess but don't brush it, if I see mustard on my shirt but don't change it, if I see green in my teeth but don't brush them, exactly how much good did it do to even look in the first place?  That is exactly how much good Bible study does for us when we won't apply what we hear.
            The little guy I mentioned is playing quite well now.  He eventually got the message that his thumb was indeed Tommy.  What messages are we missing?
 
As for you, son of man, your people who talk together about you by the walls and at the doors of the houses, say to one another, each to his brother, ‘Come, and hear what the word is that comes from the LORD.’ And they come to you as people come, and they sit before you as my people, and they hear what you say but they will not do it; for with lustful talk in their mouths they act; their heart is set on their gain. And behold, you are to them like one who sings lustful songs with a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument, for they hear what you say, but they will not do it (Ezek 33:30-32).
 
Dene Ward
 

If I asked any one of you if Bible study was essential to a godly life, I would be surprised to hear anyone say no.  We all understand that God expects us to learn His Word.  We devote a lot of time, energy, and funds to our class systems to make sure our children are well-taught, even expecting the church to do our duty as parents, but that is another post for another day.  Still, we do understand that Bible study is essential.  We put “edification” in those ubiquitous “acts of worship” lists and if questioned about it will happily list Bible classes along with sermons as the means for that particular “act.”
            But is knowing God’s Word the purpose of Bible study?  I would hope we all know better than that.  There may well be theological knowledge we must all have to appreciate our salvation and keep our faith strong, but the practical purpose for Bible study is to learn how God wants us to live our lives. If your Bible study does not affect your life, why do you bother?
            So how are you doing in the practical application of your study?  Here is a test for you.  When you hear a sermon, does something about you change?  When you learn something in a Bible class, do you think about it and perhaps alter your schedule, toss a few things out of your wardrobe, raise your contribution, pray more often, or put a few TV shows on your family’s verboten list?  Do you forgive a wrong, pray for an enemy, or stand up for the truth in a room full of atheists?  Does what you learn affect you in any way at all?  And does it go past a onetime thing to a life-changing habit?
            All right, so maybe you have been a Christian for a few decades instead of just a few weeks, and you have already made many changes.  Good for you.  But do you think there is nothing you can make better, that you already have all your ducks in a row, perfectly aligned so they waddle in step and quack in unison?  I’m not there yet.  Surely even you can make a few adjustments, tweaking your life just a bit.
            Sometimes the changes you make can be a little more philosophical and effect the genuineness of worship.  I passed my Psalms lesson book on to a Bible class teacher in another church many miles from here.  He told me that it has made a definite difference in his prayer life—the Psalms may be poems set to music for both individual and group worship, but they are also prayers.  And, since he also leads singing, he told me it has changed how he does that as well.
            The class had just finished Psalm 89, a long psalm that praises God by discussing His attributes—love, faithfulness, righteousness, justice, power, holiness.  So the next Sunday he chose his songs according to that pattern, God’s attributes.  They sang “Wonderful Grace,” “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” “Holy, Holy, Holy,” and “Because He Loved Me So.”  He told the good people there what he was doing and why.  They paid more attention to the words they were singing and their song service was, in spite of singing “boring old songs” as some these days might call them, more moving and admonishing, and sung with much more “understanding” than usual.
            Just a little Bible study caused a whole church to worship more sincerely than they had in a long, long time.  What has your Bible study done for you lately?  It’s up to you how much you get out of it and what you do with what you learn.
 
​Give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart. ​Lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it. ​Incline my heart to your testimonies, and not to selfish gain! ​Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in your ways. ​Confirm to your servant your promise, that you may be feared. Ps 119:34-38
 
Dene Ward