We got the call that Sunday morning at 5:32.  We were on the road as soon as we could be, but Silas’s little brother Judah beat us there by half an hour.  Mommy and Daddy had waited as long as they could, their three year old sitting big-eyed and quiet in the labor room, but ultimately had to call a church couple to take him.

              About 1:00 that afternoon those helpful people brought Silas back to the hospital, where we sat in the room with Brooke and Nathan, new baby Judah lying in a special bed under a warming light.  It took far longer than it should have to get that baby’s body temperature to an appropriate number. 

              Silas, still a bit confused, and very tired, ran straight to his parents.  Nathan lifted him into his arms and carried him over to the little bed.  He looked down at his four hour old, wrinkly red baby brother, his tiny head still misshapen from his passage into the world, and said, “What’s that?”

              I couldn’t help it.  A bubble of laughter escaped me at his innocent honesty.  When we told him this was his little brother Judah, the one who had been in Mommy’s tummy, his little head swung back and forth between his mommy and the figure in the clear, plastic bed, his eyes full of skepticism.  This was not what he expected.

              It took a couple of weeks for him to really come around, but who could blame him?  He was expecting a brother like the brothers and sisters his little friends had, and probably just as big.  He was expecting a playmate, but every time he shared his toys, the little interloper simply lay there and slept.  Where is the fun in that?  But children are nothing if not adaptable, and his little brother is growing on him.

              I fear some people look on their lives as Christians with the same skepticism with which Silas first viewed Judah.  Freedom, they were promised, but all they see are rules.  Joy, they were promised, yet they still suffer the same trials, illnesses, and financial problems as everyone else, even the same ones as before they were converted.  They’ve lost friends, and rifts in the family are worse than ever.  They expected people to come running at their every beck and call, yet every Sunday the preacher, an elder, a Bible class teacher—or maybe all three!!—tells them they have to serve others.

              Jesus dealt with the same problem among his followers.  Some came expecting to be entertained (Luke 7:32; 23:8).  Some came expecting to be fed (John 6:26).  Some came expecting to be part of a victorious army and a glorious kingdom here on the earth (Luke 19:11).  Very few “came around,” changing their expectations to match his offered reality.  He never changed his offer—if they wouldn’t accept it, he simply sent them away.  He drove off far more than ever accepted him (John 6:43-67).

              Sometimes we have to do the same.  We cannot change the church the Lord bought with His own blood to suit the carnal nature of an unspiritual world—we don’t have that right.  Be careful what you offer your friends and neighbors. God didn’t promise lives of ease, health and wealth, or even a church family that always behaves itself.  The test of faith comes when things are difficult, not when they are easy.

              The church wasn’t what the Jews expected.  As a result most of them missed out on the promised kingdom.  Examine your own expectations.  Make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to you.
 
For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Whoever thus serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men. Romans 14:17-18
 
Dene Ward
 

When Silas came to visit, shortly before his third birthday, Chloe scared him to death.  What did she do?  Nothing.  Our sweet-faced red heeler simply existed and Silas wasn’t too keen on being in the same yard with her, not even a five acre yard.

              Then he discovered that Chloe was even more afraid of him.  She would cautiously creep out from under the porch when we all went outside, but always made sure I was between her and that frightening little human.  What had Silas done to her?  Nothing.  He couldn’t get close enough to do anything to her. 

              When he finally understood, he thoroughly enjoyed his time outdoors.  He picked flowers for his mommy.  He loaded the bird feeder.  He looked for big hunks of bark that had fallen off the sycamore, broke them into three pieces—one for granddad, one for grandma, and one for himself—and led a countdown: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1—whee!—at which point we all threw our hunks of paper-thin bark into the air, over and over and over until there wasn’t a piece of bark bigger than a quarter to be found anywhere.

              Then he walked around to the side of the house and found the two old bathtubs Keith soaks his smoker wood in.  “Oh!” he cried.  “A pool!”

              First, he simply stood there splashing the water.  Then he eyed an old coffee can and some plastic flower pots, and began dipping into the tub and pouring the water back in and, in the process, all over himself. 

              Then he eyed Chloe, the dog that no longer scared him.  You could almost see the wheels turning.  He dipped again into the tub and sat the can on its edge.  “Chlo-eeeee,” he called in a singsong voice.  “I have something fooooooor yooooooooou.”  He picked up the can and headed straight for the dog, sloshing water with every step.

              I knew exactly what he was going to do, and so did Chloe.  She took off running.

              Funny how one simple piece of knowledge was so empowering.  When Silas learned that Chloe was so afraid of him, he was no longer afraid of her.  But it isn’t just the knowing; it’s the believing.

              How many times do we fail because we simply don’t believe what we’ve been promised?

              With every temptation there is a way of escape, 1 Cor 10:13.  We are equipped with armor that will enable us to stand against the Devil, Eph 6:11-20.  We are guarded by the power of God unto a salvation that is ready and waiting, 1 Pet 1:5.  Our faith stands in the power of God, 1 Cor 2:5.  We are supported in our afflictions by the power of God, 2 Cor 6:7.  His power works in us, and we are strengthened by it, the same power that raised Christ from the dead, Eph 3:16,20.

              Do you think Satan isn’t afraid of you?  The devils believe also, and tremble, James says, 2:19.  Since it is Christ’s power that rests on you and not your own, 2 Cor 12:9, what makes you think you aren’t a fearsome entity as well?  The only thing that would hinder it is disbelief in the promises of God.

              Our weapons are mighty, 2 Cor 10:4,5, far more so than a bucket of water in the hand of a toddler, and we should be ready and willing to use them.  Yes, we should face the devil with care, just as we would a rattlesnake, but his fate is already sealed.  All we have to do is believe it.
 
…we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. Colossians 1:9-12
 
Dene Ward

A long time ago, a couple entrusted their two teenage daughters to us while they worked away from the area for six months.  I was 29 years old at the time, and 7 or 8 years from having teenagers of my own.  I doubt we really knew what we were getting into, but we agreed and did our best. 

              Having someone give the care of their children into your hands for more than just a couple of hours is terrifying.  I think we probably made even stricter decisions than we did with our own children when the first one hit that milestone age of 13 several years later.  This isn’t like borrowing a lawn mower, or even a luxury automobile—these were souls we were asked to look after, in some of their most important years.

              Those girls are grown now, even older than we were when they lived with us.  In spite of those six months, they turned out very well, as have their own children.  I doubt it had anything to do with us, but you had better believe that we were on our toes far more in those six months than at any other time in our lives.  Still, we made mistakes, but it wasn’t for lack of praying and considering before we did anything.

              I am sure you can understand how we felt.  Here’s the thing, as a famous fictional TV detective is wont to say:  all of us who are parents are given Someone Else’s kids to care for.  All souls are mine, God said in Ezek 18:4.  The Hebrew writer calls Him “the Father of spirits” in 12:9, the same word he uses in verse 23, “the spirits of just men made perfect.”  God is the Father of all souls, including those children of His He has entrusted to our care.  How careful should we be about raising them?

              I have seen too many parents who are more concerned with their careers, with their personal “fulfillment,” and their own agendas.  They want children because that is what you do, the thing that is expected by society, and a right they feel they must exercise, not because they want to spend the time it takes to care for them.  “I’m too busy for that,” they say of everything from nursing and potty training to teaching them Bible stories and their ABCs.  When you decide to take on the privilege of caring for one of God’s souls, you have obligated yourself to whatever time it takes to do it properly and with the care you would for the most valuable object anyone ever entrusted into your hands.

              If realizing that the souls of the children in your home are God’s doesn’t terrify you at least a little bit, you probably aren’t doing a very good job of taking care of them.
 
And he said unto them, Set your heart unto all the words which I testify unto you this day, which you shall command your children to observe to do, even all the words of this law. For it is no vain thing for you; because it is your life… Deuteronomy 32:46-47.
 
Dene Ward

My grandson came by for a quick visit recently.  I spent a couple of hours preparing the house, putting up the things that might hurt him and the things that could get him into trouble.  Then I put out the old toys his daddy used to play with, the “new” ones I had picked up at a thrift store, the crayons, a small plastic chair I had bought for him, as well as my old rocking chair, the one I sat in until I outgrew it.

              You are never really sure what a two year old will find interesting.  Their likes and dislikes change with every mood.  I picked up blueberries and chicken nuggets, two of his favorite things, at least the last time I was with him.  That doesn’t mean he will like them this time.  At least I know that about toddlers.  It would have been more helpful to have been able to remember well my own preschool days.  Then I might have stood a better chance of pleasing him.  All of that is entirely normal. 

              In fact, that is normal in every case.  If you could climb into the mind of the person you are trying to relate to, wouldn’t it be much easier to understand them and get along?  A long time ago, Job said the same thing about man and God.  There was no one who could “lay his hand on both” God and man, 9:33. 

              Which is precisely why the Word “became flesh and dwelt among us,” John 1:14.  The Hebrew writer says, “He had to be made like his brothers in every respect” so that he could become our high priest, our intercessor, the one who stands between us and God, laying his hand on both because he understands both worlds, 2:17.  Paul makes it plain in 1 Tim 2:5 that Jesus is the only one of the Godhead who fulfills that requirement--There is one mediator between God and man, himself man, Christ Jesus.

              So now we cannot say, “No one understands.”  Jesus went through a lot of pain and sorrow and injustice and indignity just so he could understand.  Any time we excuse ourselves with something like, “Well of course he could overcome sin, he was the Son of God!” we are demeaning the sacrifice he made for us, and the things he bore on our behalf so he could be “the missing link” between our Father and his children.  We are saying that he doesn’t, and can never understand what it is like to be human.

              The Son of God is also the Son of Man.  He knows how we think, he knows how we feel, and he knows what we can and cannot endure.  He sits at the right hand of God even now, making intercession for us, Rom 8:34, because he searches our hearts and knows what is in them (v 27 with Rev 2:23).

              I may make a mistake about what will pique the interest of my two year old grandson.  Christ will never make the same mistake about us.
 
This makes Jesus the guarantor of a better covenant. The former priests were many in number, because they were prevented by death from continuing in office, but he holds his priesthood permanently, because he continues forever. Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them, Heb 7:22-25.
 
Dene Ward

I spend very little time on Facebook, just enough to check on my children and some close friends and run the Facebook page for this blog, maybe a half hour a day total, some days much less.  Occasionally a link someone has posted will catch my eye and I will take a quick look.  After all, I am always hoping someone will link my blog posts, even the ones I don't link myself, so I am willing to spend a little time looking at others.

              The other day I caught one that caused an almost visceral reaction.  I wasn't expecting that from the title—something about raising kids.  I don't even remember who wrote it or who posted it, but I do remember the phrase that sent my heart racing and the blood pounding in my ears:  "the drudgery of raising children."  Surely the writer didn't mean that, I thought.  Then I remembered half a dozen posts by several young mothers who bemoaned their lot in life—"Stuck in the house with these kids, is this all there is?"

              Let me quickly add some reality to the mix.  I know what it is like to be a mom.  I have had to find ways to do housework, laundry, and cooking around the sleeping (or not) schedule of an infant.  I realize what it is like to have more than one in diapers at the same time.  I know what it is like to hang those diapers up in the sauna bath of a Florida summer, sweat running out of your hair and dripping off your nose, hoping those flapping white squares will dry out before you use the last clean one.  I comprehend having to practically pack for a trip whenever you go anywhere for even thirty minutes, lugging diaper bags, extra clothes, books and toys, and baby himself, while hanging onto a purse and the hand of yet another all-but-baby.  I know the terror of holding a seizing child while your husband races down the highway at 90, wondering if that little one will ever open those big blue eyes again.  I appreciate what it's like to wonder if you and your husband will ever again have an evening out or a night alone—for us it was eight years before that happened after the first one was born.  I know what it is like to sit next to a small hospital bed, trying to sleep in a straight chair, jumping up every time your child whimpers, doing your best not to let him see you cry.  I understand the months and months without a good night's sleep and the utter exhaustion that causes you to simply pass out on the arm of the sofa in the middle of folding clothes while your toddler runs toy trucks and cars up and down your arms.  Being a mother is hard.  I get it.

              But all it takes is a look into those sparkling eyes, a hug that nearly strangles you, and a precious little voice calling out, "Mommy!" to make it all worthwhile.  When you see in your child the image of the God who made him, you know that the work you do is anything but drudgery.  It is, as is said so often it has become hokey, the most important work in the world.  You have been given a soul to save.  You have been entrusted with a mission that will determine the eternal destiny of a human being.  Do you see that word?  God trusts you to get the job done.

              When we allow it to become drudgery we have spent too much time making ourselves the center of the universe.  It is not about "Me."  It never should have been for a disciple of a Lord who gave up everything for others and expects his followers to do the same.  His work was always his focus.  If he had been as selfish as I am sometimes, he would have never left Heaven, never "emptied himself" of Deity, in the first place.  I am forever grateful that he did.

              And so I am forever trying to do what I can, not to repay him, for when we have done all we can "we are still unprofitable servants," but to pass along that gift to others, especially the ones he created inside this body of mine and gave me the privilege of molding into a person "fit for the Master's use."
 He never told me life would be easy, but he did tell me that Heaven would be.  I want to be there with my children—forever.  I am sure you do too, and don't you ever forget it.
 
​Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.” (Prov 31:25-29)
 
Dene Ward

Now that we have Jephthah’s vow straightened out, maybe it’s a good idea to look at his daughter.  (See posts on 8/28 and 29.)

              First, let’s realize her age.  If she was not married in that culture, she had not yet, or had barely reached the age of puberty.  The custom was to marry the daughters off once they reached that age.  John MacArthur says they were generally betrothed at 13 for one year and then married, so this girl could not have been over 14.

              Let’s take a side trip here to forestall a few wrong conclusions.  Even if puberty arrives earlier nowadays than it did in ancient times, as some scientists seem to believe, it doesn’t mean maturity does.  One is physical and the other mental.  In that time those young people were expected to be responsible enough to raise and provide for children as soon as they were able to have them.  Do we expect that of our children?

              Even as late the 19th and early 20th centuries young men were working to help provide for the family as young as 12 or 14.  Boys brought up on farms were doing men’s work at 8 or 10.  Girls were caring for baby brothers and sisters, and working as hard as their mothers in the house and field at the same age.  No wonder they were ready to marry in their early teens, and no wonder they could make a valid commitment to God at an early age.  They weren’t pining to be a fireman one day and an astronaut the next.  They understood responsibility and lifetime commitment and were ready for it.  Maturity isn’t about knowing facts and answering questions.  Neither is spirituality.  Be careful what you equate.  Culture does make a difference.

              So this very young teenager has just found out that her life is going to be different than she ever expected because of a decision her father has made, not one she has made.  Can’t you just see the TV depiction of a teenager today?  Standing hipshot, she crosses her arms, rolls her eyes and whines, “Da-uhd!”  This isn’t fair.  This isn’t what I planned.  I had dreams and you ruined them all!  It’s my life not yours!

              Don’t think for a minute that a child has no responsibility to his parents’ vows.  As soon as a man accepts the office of an elder, his family is accepting extra scrutiny, extra inconvenience as he performs his work, and less of his time.  The same is true of a deacon though in a lesser way.  The same is certainly true of a man who gives his life to preaching the gospel.  It doesn’t lessen his own obligations to his family, but it does increase his family’s obligations to God.  It also means their behavior must be above reproach. 

              Let’s be realistic here.  No, it isn’t only elders, deacons, and preachers’ families who must behave themselves, but the ramifications are much worse since they represent the local church, and the Lord, in the eyes of the world.  The world may very well be wrong about what they expect of these men, but it is simply naïve to think it doesn’t work that way.

              Then there is this point—every Christian has vowed his life to God.  So in a very real way, every Christian family is under the microscope.  As soon as a child crosses the line, you know what everyone thinks—wasn’t he raised better than that?  As soon as his life deviates from the life a Christian should live, the world suddenly looks at his parents differently.  Even if it is not their fault, even if they have done the best they possibly could have, someone will lose respect for that couple, and certainly for the life they have espoused.  No, it isn’t always fair, but what is it we always tell our children?  Life isn’t fair.

              Every one of us is someone’s child.  If you were blessed as I was to have godly parents, they vowed you to God just as surely as Jephthah vowed his daughter.  They said, “We will raise this child to serve you all his life.”  Have you honored that vow?
 
"Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children's children-- how on the day that you stood before the LORD your God at Horeb, the LORD said to me, 'Gather the people to me, that I may let them hear my words, so that they may learn to fear me all the days that they live on the earth, and that they may teach their children so.' Deut 4:9-10
 
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) out in the family room 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         

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              Today look at everything you gripe about and find the blessing.  You will be amazed--and probably a little ashamed.  And maybe those gripes will go away, for at least a little awhile.
 
Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you, 1 Thes 5:18.
 
Dene Ward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            Knowledge alone doesn’t make you a faithful child of God.  You don’t have to be a genius with a photographic memory, but you do have to love your Father enough to be willing to work at building a relationship with Him.  Pick up your Bible today, and show Him how much He means to you.
 
And he said to me, "Son of man, go to the house of Israel and speak with my words to them. For you are not sent to a people of foreign speech and a hard language, but to the house of Israel-- not to many peoples of foreign speech and a hard language, whose words you cannot understand. Surely, if I sent you to such, they would listen to you. But the house of Israel will not be willing to listen to you, for they are not willing to listen to me: because all the house of Israel have a hard forehead and a stubborn heart.
Ezekiel 3:4-7
 
Dene Ward
 
 

Is there anything more satisfying for a grandparent than being allowed to babysit for several days while Mom and Dad are out of town?  Absolutely not.  It may wear me out, but it's a good kind of tired, the very best in fact.

              Four year old Judah has a stuffed tiger he has lugged around since he could carry anything.  It started out about the same size as he was at birth, but seems to have suffered a little stuffing-porosis.  He is limper and his body parts seem a bit more disjointed, as if someone had hugged on him for years, mashing him into whatever odd posture it took for him to lie cheek to cheek with a loving little towhead.  He is still cute—a long head at least half the size of his body with a cartoon-dufus face and a big black nose.  His stripes these days are a little more pale yellow and gray than orange and black, but there is no mistaking what he is:  a four year old's favorite "buddy."

            Sometime this past year, the tiger got a name—Lucky.  Lucky makes it out of the bed every morning and though he is often cast aside as his small master plays during the day, he always makes it back to bed.  And for some reason, he makes it to the table too. 

           When we were there this past babysitting stint, as we joined hands to pray over our meal, Lucky, for the first time, had his paw held too.  Judah very carefully held on to one paw and laid Lucky out across the large table so his Granddad could grasp the other paw and complete the circle.  "Ah," I thought.  "Something in that little four year old mind has changed.

            If you pooh-pooh your child's favorite buddy, you are missing something important.  I may not be a child psychologist, but I did have my own imaginary friends when I was growing up, so I know a thing or two about this.  Those imaginary friends are anything but imaginary to your little one.  They are best friends.  They protect.  They comfort.  They listen.  They even talk.  Why, Lucky even played a hand of "Go Fish" while we were there.  This is your child's first close relationship with someone not family.  He is learning what it means to be a friend, to be loyal, and to love as friends love.  So when something becomes important to your child, he wants to share it with that special friend. 

            Because Judah sees us praying, because he sees his mom and dad pray, because he sees a room full of friendly faces praying every week, he has learned that praying is important.  What concept does he have of God at this age?  Probably the usual, "God made me-God loves me" impression that most toddlers who have been to church since they were born have.  That doesn't matter.  What does matter is that he wants to share his understanding with his special friend.  It is a normal part of his life, his little brain is thinking, so naturally Lucky would want to do this too.  If he can play Go Fish, certainly he can pray.

            "It's a normal part of his life."  That is important.  Your child should see you interacting with God on a daily basis--in prayer, in study, in family discussions, in decisions you make.  That is how you instill faith in him.  If he grows up seeing these things, more than likely, he will do them too.  And since he believes his little friend can do exactly what he can do, letting Lucky pray will validate in his little mind--even though he has no idea what those words mean--both his relationship with his friend Lucky and his relationship with God.  If you disregard Lucky, whom he can see, how in the world can you expect him to believe in a God he doesn't yet know how to see?  Letting Lucky pray will make God become as real to him as Lucky already has, and eventually, the only real one of the two. 

            And it may all start if you just reach your hand out and grasp a well-loved paw over the dinner table.
 
But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children, (Ps 103:17)
 
Dene Ward