An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not evil, all the days of her life, Prov 31:10-12.

 Bathsheba gets short shrift most of the time.  Due to a lot of misunderstanding of cultural practices, she is accused of things she did not do, and blamed for things that were not her fault, but that is not what we are going to talk about today.  Today we are checking in on David and Bathsheba about thirty years later.  David is near death at the age of 70, and Bathsheba is around 50, or even less.*

 David has promised Solomon that he will be king, that, in fact, God Himself has chosen him to be the next king.  Adonijah, as the oldest living son, has other plans.  He sets about having himself crowned even as David lies on his deathbed.  He isn’t being particularly secretive, but he is very careful whom he invites to the coronation.  David’s mighty men are left out, as well as Zadok, who as a result of all this becomes the patriarch of the new high priest line promised in 1 Samuel 2, and Nathan the prophet also.

 Nathan comes to Bathsheba.  ‘Haven’t you heard?” he asks her.  Then he gives her careful instruction about telling David the news, and goes along with her to verify her story.  Bathsheba seems more than willing.  Perhaps it is a mother looking after the welfare of her son, but for her to have this close contact with David after all these years, when none of his other wives do, tells me their relationship became the prominent one.  She was the favorite, and as any wife would at this time, she made sure he was happy and had what he needed.

 The rest of the story doesn’t really matter to me today.  Maybe it is because I am older now, maybe it is because I have seen so many women doing it up close and personal, but the verse above from Proverbs 31 sprang to my mind when I thought of Bathsheba’s actions.  A good wife will see to her husband’s wishes, “doing him good and not evil,” even when he is no longer able to function.

 And the only way we can do that, ladies, is to ask what he wants.  If you haven’t, you need to sit down together and ask him those tough questions.  If you have a will, and you should, that will help, but perhaps he has other things, not valuable things, but things he cherishes, that he would like to go to someone in particular.  Find out and write it down.  Perhaps he wants a certain man to preach his funeral.  Find out who.  Perhaps he wants certain songs to be sung.  Find out which ones. 

 Then there are the really difficult decisions.  Does he want to be an organ donor?  Does he have a living will?  If he is very ill already, does he have a DNR?  If he were to reach the point that he no longer knows anyone, how does he want to be cared for?

 Life has a way of stealing a man’s identity and our society’s ridicule of the elderly doesn’t help a bit.  The doctor may tell him he can no longer drive.  Be careful what you say to others in his hearing.  You may not think it a big deal, but for some men driving represents more than just going somewhere.  God has programmed into our men the need to provide and protect, and in a society where we no longer face angry natives on the warpath and food is always just around the corner at Publix, he has few ways of doing that.  Driving may be one of them.  Don’t steal his manhood with your comments about this or anything else he can no longer do. 

 We could go on and on with this, but I imagine you have gotten my point.  Because of the emotions involved these things are difficult to talk about, even when we have absolute faith in the reward God promises.  Some men will refuse, but do what you can.  Listen to him when he talks to others and make a note in your mind of what he says if you can’t get him to say it to you, but do your best to know what he wants and then do those things for him when he is lying there completely unable, just as David was.

 An aside here—there are some things a man has no business telling his wife to do.  He should not tell you to never remarry if you would like to.  Especially if you are young, which is a whole lot older than it used to be to me, Paul himself says you should remarry (1 Tim 5:14).  Death breaks the marriage bond (Rom 7), and he no longer has that hold on you.  And of course, anything sinful you can rightly ignore. 

 Back to our point—please do this today.  Do not use your youthful age as an excuse.  One inch either way and a bullet would have made me a widow at 42.  Then there was the "stroke" Keith had when I was 49.  I can tell you sad tales of people who have succumbed to accident or disease even earlier than that.  These days women usually outlive their men, especially if they are several years younger, as I am.  It is only sensible to be ready.  How can you possibly “do him good and not evil” when you don’t know what good he wants?

 And then do this for him too.  Sometimes we women do go first.  Tell him what you want.  If you start the ball rolling, maybe it will come more easily for him.  Once you both have it down, you can rest easy, and on the day when one or the other of you finally do go to that promised rest, the one you leave behind can rest too.

The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away…So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom, Psalm 90:10,12

*To read my take on Bathsheba click on Bible People.  Scroll down several articles and a couple of pages to find “A Case of Mistaken Identity.”

Dene Ward

I have studied Abigail for a few decades now but, just like always, I noticed something new this time through. 

 Most everyone knows the story:  a bad man married to a good woman, a woman who dares to stand against him and do right.  But let’s speculate a little—and it really isn’t much speculation at all.

 1 Sam 25:4 calls Nabal “a churlish and evil” man, or, in the ESV, “harsh and badly behaved.”  That is not the half of it.  Look at the way those two words were translated in other places.  “Churlish” is also “obstinate, hard, heavy, rough, stubborn, and cruel.”  “Evil” is “grievous, hurtful, and wicked.”  This man wasn’t just a grouch, he was mean and cruel, and it came from a wicked heart.

 Now imagine a “beautiful and discerning woman” married to such a man.  It almost had to be an arranged marriage—she certainly didn’t fall in love with him.  Since he is extremely rich and she is still in prime childbearing age (we find out later), he is probably older than she.  This is also a time when no one would have said anything about physical abuse.  As you keep reading in chapter 25, the man’s servants are clearly terrified of him.  I do not doubt for a moment that they had all suffered physical punishments from him, probably many unjust.  I wouldn’t even be surprised if Abigail hadn’t suffered the same.  God’s Law protected women from men in every way possible, but for a man like this the Law meant nothing. 

 So along comes David’s army, men who had protected Nabal’s servants from passing raiders by the way, which means his livestock--his wealth--were also protected, and David is now in need of provisions for several hundred men.  Surely this “very rich” man who was already in the middle of a celebration time when the food would be plenteous, v 4, 8, could spare some for them. 

 David carefully instructed his men exactly how to approach Nabal.  If you have one of the newer translations you will miss this.  ESV says they “greeted” him, v 5.  But that word is one that means far more than saying hello.  It can also be translated salute, praise, thank, congratulate, even kneel.  All those words involve respect and honor.  Yet Nabal drives them off with exactly the opposite attitudes—disrespect, dishonor, and ingratitude for their service to him.  “Who is this David?” he asks, accusing him of rebellion (v 10, 11), though Abigail knew exactly who he was (v 28, 30), the anointed of God.

 Abigail knows nothing about this event, but Nabal’s servants know plenty about her.  They come running, afraid for their lives for the way their master has treated a warrior and his army.  And Abigail saves the day, gathering up as much as she can and sending it on to David, riding up herself to reason with him and beg for their lives.  When she asks David to remember her, she isn’t asking him to save her from her lot in life.  She goes back to the man and the responsibilities she sees as hers.

 Now think about this.  What would happen today if something similar occurred to a beautiful young woman, stuck in a loveless marriage to a horrible man, a cruel man who probably beat his servants and maybe her as well?  Do you think she would have had any concern for anyone else? 

 Abigail was not so wound up in her own misery that she couldn’t see the misery of others.  She probably cared for the servants her husband abused.  She didn’t whine about not deserving this kind of life.  She didn’t expect everyone to wait on her hand and foot or bend over backwards for her because she was mistreated, nor did she fall into a useless heap of flesh because life was “unfair.”  She just “dealt with it.”  Instead of being a drama queen focused only on her own problems, she looked for ways to help others as the opportunity arose.  She did not allow her misery to blind her to the needs of others. 

 We could talk about her “going behind her husband’s back,” but let’s quickly notice this—she saved his life too, at least until God came into the picture and took it Himself.  “Looking to the good of others,” we call that nowadays and label it the highest form of love.  Abigail did this for everyone, including the undeserving, and regardless of who did and did not do it for her.

 Abigail understood this, and so should we:  it’s not about me, it’s about Him.

[Doing] nothing through faction or through vainglory, but in lowliness of mind each counting other better than himself; not looking each of you to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others, Phil 2:3,4.

Dene Ward

When I was a child we often visited friends and family, all the kids sleeping in the living room floor on piles of quilts.  It was fun because it was different and exciting, and not one of us complained.  Dinner was never fancy because none of us were wealthy, but all my aunts could cook as well as my mother and we knew it would be good whatever it was.  We practiced the hospitality shown in the Bible to our families, to our neighbors, and to our brothers and sisters in the Lord.  What has happened to us?

 Even if we aren’t particularly wealthy, we have fallen for the nonsense that because we cannot offer what the wealthy offer, we should offer nothing at all.  How do we excuse it?  I don’t have a spare room.  I don’t have a bathroom for every bedroom.  The spare room I do have is too small.  The bathroom is too tiny.  My grocery budget is too small and my time too little for cooking.  I work.  I have an infant in the house who still wakes up at night.  And the perennial favorite, “You know, times are different now.” 

 Not so much, folks.  Lydia worked, yet she made Paul and Silas an offer they couldn’t refuse—she told them they would be insulting her faith if they did not stay with her.  Unless I am reading something into it that isn’t there, Priscilla worked right alongside her husband, “for they were tentmakers.”  Yet Paul didn’t stay with them for just a night or two—he lived with them for a good while.  Abraham was a very busy man—he had more employees than some towns in that day had citizens, yet he not only offered hospitality, he actively looked for people who might need it.

 “But they had servants!” some whine.  If you don’t think your modern conveniences fill the place of servants, you have never thought about what it took back then to cook—they started with the animals on the hoof, people!  Their cooking involved building a fire from scratch, sometimes in the heat of the day.  And here we sit with the meat already butchered in our electric refrigerators, ready to put in our gas or electric ovens.  We clean with our vacuum cleaners, pick up ready-made floral arrangements at the grocery store, make sure the automatic shower cleaner and the stuck-on toilet cleaner are still in service, and stop at the bakery for the bread. Then, when it’s all done, we put the dirty dishes in our dishwashers, and we do it all in our air conditioned homes.

 Part of the problem may also be the expectations of guests these days.  It isn’t just that people are no longer hospitable—it’s that people are spoiled and self-indulgent.  They don’t want to sleep on a sofa.  They don’t want to share a bathroom with a couple of kids.  They will not eat what is offered.  We aren’t talking about health situations like diabetes and deadly allergies.  We are talking about people who care more about their figures than their fellowship; people who were never taught to graciously accept what was placed in front of them, even knowing it was the best their hosts could afford, because, “I won’t touch_______________,” (fill in the blank). 

 We once ate with a hard-working farm family who had invited us and two preachers over for dinner.  Dinner was inexpensive fare--they had five children and had invited us six to share their meal.  Later that evening, when we had left their home, we heard those two preachers making fun of what of they had been served and laughing about it.  I hope those poor people never got wind of it. 

 When we raise our children to act in similarly ungracious ways, when we consider them too precious to sleep on a pallet on the floor, as if their royal hides could feel a minuscule pea beneath all those quilts, what can we expect?  Do you think it doesn’t happen?  We once had a guest who told me he had rather not sleep where I put him.  It was the only place I had left to put him.  I already had four other guests when he had shown up at my door unannounced.  He was more than welcome—I have taken in unexpected guests many times--but where were this one’s manners?

 Do you know how many times we have been told, “Do you know how far it is out there?” when we invited someone thirty miles out in the country to our home for a meal.  Excuse me?  Of course we know how far it is—we drive it back and forth at least three times a week just to the church building, not counting other appointments.

 This matter of hospitality worries me.  It tells me we have become self-indulgent and materialistic when it comes both to offering it and accepting it.  God commands us to Show hospitality to one another without grumbling, 1 Pet 4:9.  What has happened to the enjoyment of one another’s company, the encouragement garnered by sharing conversation and bumping elbows congenially in close quarters, and the love nurtured by putting our feet under the same table, by opening not only our homes but our hearts? 

 What has happened to the joy of a pallet on the floor?

One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul. And after she was baptized, and her household as well, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.” And she prevailed upon us, Acts 16:14,15.

Dene Ward

      It has to be one of the most common teaching experiences.  You realize a person needs to make an adjustment in his life so, rather than coming out and saying, "You know you have an issue you need to work on," instead of just blasting them in the face with it, you tell a story whose moral makes it obvious that it refers to them.  So obvious, you think, that you almost cringe waiting for the blowback.  And what happens?  They agree quickly that the people in your story certainly need to change their ways, and then walk off smiling and nodding in agreement.  Tell me that has not happened to you.  Ultimately, what good have you done except to raise your frustration level?

     Yet nowadays, I am hearing from more and more people who are members of various congregations, that is the only way one should "correct" a sinner—be so vague that they never get the point, but also—what seems to be most important—they are never offended.  Has their spiritual state changed?  No, they are still in sin because they were covered with so much verbal bubble wrap that they never even knew they were being corrected.

     Making application to oneself must be the most difficult part of learning.  Not just seeing one's sin, but seeing when some other choice might be wiser than one's own actions.  Our American pride has made us all averse to admit we have been wrong about anything at all, whether sin or simple foolishness.

     And how do I know this?  Nathan told a story to David that seems to us to be obviously referring to David's sin (2 Samuel 12).  David could immediately see the sin in the rich man's actions, but did he ever think it applied to him too?  Not for one minute.  He never got it until Nathan took his life in his hands and said to the king, "You are the man." 

     We are teaching a class now in which we have spent a good amount of time talking about asking for advice when one needs it, listening to others when they give that advice or give correction, and doing both without resentment.  The Proverb writer tells us again and again that becoming angry when corrected is the way of the fool, and yet we cannot seem to apply that one either.  It hurts my feelings to be told I'm wrong.  What did Jesus say about such things?  And be not afraid of them that kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell Matt10:28.  There is something a whole lot more important than feelings at stake here.

Severe punishment awaits anyone who wanders off the path— anyone who despises reproof will die  Prov15:10

Dene Ward

I was 18, but I might as well have been 12.  Looking back I can see the warning signs, but as naïve as I was then I was blind to them.

            The summer between my freshman and sophomore college years I had found a job not far from the house at a concrete plant.  I had signed on as a “tile sorter” out in the warehouse on a crew full of women, but the yard boss saw on my application that I knew how to type so the first morning he made me the office secretary. 

            The work was simple and a little scarce—I answered the phone; I made the coffee; I figured payroll from the time cards and passed out paychecks.  I might have typed three letters all summer long.  Finally I found the old directory of suppliers and other concrete plants in the area.  It was scratched out and scribbled over with address and telephone changes so I gave myself the chore of researching and re-typing that whole thing on the days when there was literally nothing else to do for hours.  I think the whole point of me being there was so the yard boss could say he had a secretary like the big guys up in the front office.

            Aside from the pride issue, he was a decent man, a Jehovah’s Witness who actually talked with me about religious things when he was free.  He seemed impressed when I showed him a passage or two he didn’t know was there. 

            But his immediate underling was not as nice a man as he pretended to be when the boss was there.  Not that I knew it at first or none of this would have happened.  I can look back on it now and hear his words and know what he was thinking as surely as if he told me out loud, but not then.  I was too innocent and trusting.

            One day late in the summer I found myself alone in the office with him.  The old clerk was sick and the yard boss had been called up to the front office on the highway, a good quarter mile walk through the hot dusty yard beneath overhead cranes.  I had gone to the front counter to look for some forms and suddenly I found myself hemmed into a corner with this six foot something, 250 lb, fifty year old man coming right at me   Before I knew it, he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me.

            I am not sure what he expected, but somehow I got loose, slipped around him, and ran as fast as I could to the only restroom in the place, a grimy cubbyhole about four foot square.  I locked the wooden door, grabbed a scratchy, brown paper towel and scrubbed my face over and over and over and over.  Then I re-wet the towel, added more soap and went at it again.  I couldn’t stop myself.  It’s a wonder I didn’t draw blood.

            Now look at Psalm 51:2.  Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.  This is the psalm David wrote after Nathan convicted him of the sins of adultery and murder.  I have read that in the Hebrew “wash me thoroughly” is literally “multiply my washings.”  After at least a year, long enough for Bathsheba to bear a child and that child to die, David finally realizes the enormity of his sins and feels the remorse like a knife in his heart.  One little plea for forgiveness won’t do in his mind, not for the terrible things he has done.  He feels the need for ritual cleansing over and over and over and over.  It isn’t a failure to accept God’s forgiveness; it’s an overwhelming sense of absolute filth.  

            When I read the literal meaning of “wash me thoroughly” those feelings I had standing in that grubby little bathroom over forty years ago came flooding back to me.  And now, like never before, I realize exactly how I ought to feel when I ask God’s forgiveness.  What I have done to Him is much worse than that which was done to me by a sordid lecher so many years ago.

            You need to feel it too.  If there is anything that will dowse your temptations like a bucket of water on a fire, that will.  I am not sure now how long I stood there shaking, sick to my stomach, but I did not leave that hideous little room until I heard other voices in the office.  Nothing was going to get me out there until I was sure I was safe.   

            Sin in your life will corrupt you.  Soap won’t get it out, no matter how many times you wash yourself.  Only the blood of the Lamb and the grace of God can cleanse you.  And even then, you should feel the need for more, and more, and more, and more, until finally you can face yourself in the mirror. 

            If you are having trouble with temptations today, remember this little story.  It’s not something I share lightly.

Though you wash yourself with lye and use much soap, the stain of your guilt is still before me, declares the Lord GOD, Jer 2:22.

Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Make me to hear joy and gladness, That the bones which you have broken may rejoice, Psalm 51:7,8.

Dene Ward