The last time 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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dene Ward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezekiel 3:4-7

Dene Ward