It was one of those recuperating days I have had so many of the past few years, so I sat in my lounger outside, the early morning autumn breeze ruffling my hair, a sweet little dog snuffling for a pat at my side, looking out over our domain, such as it is.  The east sun filtered through the woods fifty yards in front of me, not yet high enough to cause me any trouble. 

              I had carried a pair of binoculars to do a little bird-watching, but saw on the northeast corner of the property what looked like a giant orange bloom.  So I lifted those heavy lenses and got a surprise.  The bloom did not really exist.  What I saw was the sun shining on a clump of dried out pine straw hanging on a low, dead limb.  I pulled down the binoculars and looked again.  I much preferred the big orange bloom.

              Then I started looking around and saw some more.  The dull green leaves near the top of the tree glinted like small mirrors in the few rays of sun that had pierced through to them.  Even the gray Spanish moss resembled icicles.  I knew in a few minutes the effect would all be gone.  The sun would have risen high enough not to perform these magic tricks.  Still, it reminded me of something important.

              All by myself I am nothing, I can do nothing, and I have nothing to hope for.  But the light of the gospel changes everything.  Through that light, we are able to see the glory of Christ and believe (2 Cor 4:3-6.)  When we are raised from the waters of baptism, God’s glory gives us the power to walk “in newness of life” (Rom 6:4).  We transform ourselves into the image of His Son by the renewing of our minds (Rom 12:2, 8:29).  When the glory of the Lord shines on us through our submission to his gospel, what looks plain and ordinary becomes beautiful, what looks dead and repulsive becomes glorious.  That’s us we’re talking about—you and me.  We can be beautiful.

              Look at your life today.  Would someone see a beautiful bloom, a sparkling mirror, a glittering icicle?  They will only if you have allowed that light inside you, if you have let it have its way, transforming you into the person God meant you to be from the beginning.  Some will not do this.  They fight it, and offer excuses of all sorts.  “I’m only human after all.”  “No one is perfect.”  “Someone has to have common sense around here and not be such an innocent babe!” “It’s my right after all.”  None of those will give anyone a beautiful view of a child of God.

              Peter reminds us, As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, "You shall be holy, for I am holy." 1 Peter 1:14-16.  If we are not submissive to his will, we will never be transformed to his image.  We will look like nothing but dried out pine straw on a dead limb, and all the excuses in the world will never change it. 

              “What would Jesus do?” may be an old denominational catch-phrase, but is it any different than, “Be ye holy as I am holy?”  God desires nothing more than for us to be exactly like Christ, “conformed to the image of his son” Rom 8:29, “that you might follow in his steps” 1 Pet 2:21.  If you find yourself looking through the world’s binoculars and seeing nothing but your old self, the light of the gospel has not reached your heart.

              Conform yourself today.  In every aspect of your life, in every action you take, and every word you speak, “be ye holy in all your conduct.”  You can do it, or God wouldn’t have asked it of you.
 
But we all, with unveiled face reflecting as a mirror the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory, even as from the Lord the Spirit. 2 Cor 3:18.
 
Dene Ward

I read an article in the newspaper several months ago that I wanted to stand up and applaud.  Then I wanted to sit down and cry.  Let me give you some quotes from that article written by Debra Nussbaum.
             
              “…Sometimes when I’m at Dunkin’ Donuts I think of [that] quote from Hamlet... ‘The apparel oft proclaims the man.’ 
              “What is the guy in front of me proclaiming with his pajama bottoms?  And the woman behind me in an oversize white tank top that shows every inch of her black bra, what is her proclamation?  Is the guy revealing 80 percent of his boxers sending a message?
              “We have lost the subtle internal rule that tells one not to…wear a skirt the size of a dish towel to school or a religious sanctuary; and not, not, not to feel the need to reveal one’s underwear to the public.
              “A funeral isn’t the place for a miniskirt and 5 inch heels.  A lot of cleavage is…not appropriate for a Tuesday morning at the office or in school.  In fact, it’s bad manners.”
             
              Why is it that the world knows when something is inappropriate, and the people of God make excuses for it?  Why is it that the world cares more about rudeness than we do about sin?

              I was in my neighbor’s home one day visiting.  “Did you see the movie--?  No, wait,” he interrupted himself.  “You’re a Christian.  You wouldn’t have seen that movie.”

              It seems the world knows what a Christian ought to be better than some of my brethren do.  The Corinthians had that problem too.  It is actually reported that there is sexual immorality among you, and of a kind that is not even tolerated among the Gentiles…1 Cor 5:1.

              Maybe we should take a poll.  Ask your neighbors what a Christian would and wouldn’t do.   I understand that they are not completely informed, that there may be aspects of New Testament Christianity they miss or even categorize as hateful, mean-spirited, and ignorant.  Just stick with basic morality.  What would a Christian wear or not wear?  What movies or TV shows would he not watch?  What behaviors would he avoid?  Drinking?  Smoking?  Gambling?  Why is it they can clearly see the problems with these things while we tie ourselves in knots trying to excuse them?

              When amoral people know how a Christian ought to act, ought to dress, and ought to speak and we who call ourselves the true followers don’t, something is wrong.  The same thing happened to God’s people of old, and the words He sent then will apply to us too.  Read them and weep with me.
 
Therefore thus says the Lord GOD: Because you are more turbulent than the nations that are all around you, and have not walked in my statutes or obeyed my rules, and have not even acted according to the rules of the nations that are all around you, therefore thus says the Lord GOD: Behold, I, even I, am against you. And I will execute judgments in your midst in the sight of the nations. And because of all your abominations I will do with you what I have never yet done, and the like of which I will never do again, Ezekiel 5:7-9.
 
Dene Ward

Remember those grape hulls I mentioned, the ones leftover from making grape juice?  After sitting in that liquid for a few weeks, nothing remains but a pale, sour, seedy bag.  Still, straining them out and throwing them away was hard for me to do.  When you live closely for so long, you use everything until it has no service left in it. 

              I never throw away a plastic bag, for instance, after only one use.  I wash it and hang it out in the kitchen to dry.  After several uses it will eventually develop a hole or two, sometimes pinprick holes, but even that makes it no longer airtight.  When that happens it becomes a produce bag.  Why buy special green bags with vents in them?  I just add another hole or two with a couple of knife stabs and “re-purpose” the bag.

              So I had a hard time throwing out those grape hulls.  I certainly didn’t want to eat them—I had already tried that, but maybe the birds would, or a coon, or a possum—they eat just about anything.  So we laid them out on an old stump to see what would happen.

              Nothing happened.  Nothing wanted them.  We saw no signs that anything had even nosed around in them or pecked even once.  Somehow every animal and bird could tell just with a look that nothing good remained in those hulls.  They were simply useless.

              How about us?  Sometimes we think that because we sit on a pew we are serving God.  Maybe all we are doing is lying on a stump.  Like birds that fly past those leached out grape hulls, maybe our neighbors take a quick gander and decide there is absolutely nothing there worthwhile.  If they don’t know who and what we are by the words we say and the deeds of kindness we do, how useful are we to the Master?  If they don’t see that we handle life better than they, that trials do not deplete our faith and joy and hope, why should they care about what we do on Sunday mornings?

              In fact, they will get some use out of those empty hulls of a life we lead—they will be able to tell at a glance what they do not want to be, and they will do their best to stay away from it, just as the coons and possums probably went out of their way to go around that stump in the wee hours of the morning.  Those grape hulls will act as a perfect thermostat for judging our personal brand of Christianity.  As such, they aren’t just useless, they are actively damaging to the spread of the gospel, and the growth of the Lord’s body.

              Empty hulls are not grapes, nor empty lives disciples of the Lord. 
 
Go and learn what this means, I desire mercy and not sacrifice…To do righteousness and justice is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice, Matt 9:13; Prov 21:3.
 
Dene Ward

I made a Peach Melba crisp this summer that was pretty good, and something a little different from your ordinary peach cobbler—fresh peaches, fresh raspberries, and a crunchy topping.  I knew the original Peach Melba dessert was named after Nellie Melba, Australian born soprano, but I did not know the whole story.  Even after some research, I still don't.  It's one of those he said/she said things, as well as a few problems with the dating.  But it goes something like this.
 
             Nellie toured the world in her prime.  She sang at the Met in New York, at Covent Garden in London, at the opera house in Paris, and at La Scala in Milan; she even sang for the tsars in Russia.  Covent Garden became one of her regular stops every musical season. 

            Nellie actually had a small repertoire for a diva—she only sang about 25 operatic roles—but one of them was Elsa in Wagner's Lohengrin.  In fact, that might have been the only Wagner she sang.  The chef at the Savoy Hotel where she stayed while in London, Auguste Escoffier, was so enthralled with her rendition of Elsa, he named a dessert after hearing her, Peach Melba—peaches and raspberry sauce over vanilla ice cream.

              And here is where things get sketchy.  The last date I can find that Nellie sang Elsa in London in the early 1890s was July 27, 1891.  Supposedly, the very next day Escoffier created the dessert.  However, he says he did not meet her until 1893.  What is the solution?  Maybe he heard her that evening in 1891 and it took two more years for him to come up with the dessert.  Maybe it was a different role two years later that finally brought the dish into being.  Maybe he, or she, misremembered.  We do know this—he did name the dessert for her, and that is not the only thing this renowned chef named for Nellie.  There is also melba sauce, a puree of raspberries and red currants.  Then we have the ever popular melba toast, a crisp and dry—very,very dry—toast.  And finally Melba Garniture, which is chicken, truffles and mushrooms stuffed into tomatoes with a velote sauce.  Whatever you might think of Nellie's singing, she certainly inspired a lot of creativity in the kitchen.  Escoffier, in particular, was smitten.

              And that makes Nellie an eponym, a person after which something is named.  Many scientists and inventors are eponyms—Louis Pasteur, Alessandro Volta, Andre-Marie Ampere, Georg Ohm, Nikola Tesla, Karl Benz, and closer to home, Henry Ford and Ransom E. Olds. 

              The Bible has a few eponyms too.  Everyone understands what we mean when we say, "She is a Jezebel."  That woman, whoever she may be, is a wicked, immoral person.  Or, "He's a Jonah," which means he is a jinx.  And of course, someone who is a "Judas" is a traitor.

              So if you were an eponym, what would your name have come to mean?  I find myself using the names of those who have gone on exactly that way at times.  When I see a woman who constantly serves others, who is in the kitchen cooking for someone practically every minute of every day, whether because they are ill or just because she wants to do something nice for them, who puts thousands of miles on her car taking people to the doctor, who sews, and repairs clothing for others, and who still manages to keep a spotless home, too, I say, "She is a Melvene Wallace."  If you were blessed enough to have known that good woman, you know exactly what I mean.

              When I see a kind, gentle man, who is always looking after others, visiting the sick and the widows, inviting college students into his home for a meal, helping others with such mundane tasks as digging sweet potatoes or stacking wood, taking literal boatloads of fathers and sons on fishing trips, scheduling his vacations around gospel meetings so he can attend every night, and always in a pew with a smile when the doors of the meetinghouse are open, I say, "He's another Cedell Fletcher."  And once again, if you had known him, you would instantly recognize the kind of man I mean.  I miss both of those people so much that some days it physically hurts.

              So here is your task for the day:  What would your name be an eponym for?  Recently, I had someone talk about hearing a "Dene-ism."  I am not sure what to make of that, except maybe I talk too much!  Some of us may not be known for anything particularly bad, like Jezebel, but are we known for anything at all?  If someone tried to describe us by our demeanor and actions, would anyone say, "Oh yes, I know her."  Or would they stand with a blank look on their faces, completely at a loss for words, "Who?"

              You don't have to be a famous singer like Nellie Melba.  You just have to be someone who does good for others in whatever way you can, whenever you can, for as long as you can.  If no one else can make an eponym out of you, God will.  You want it to be a good one.
 
Looking for the blessed hope and appearing of the glory of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a people for his own possession, zealous of good works. (Titus 2:13-14)
 
Dene Ward

A long time ago my sister gave me a recipe for “Congo Bars.”  Congo bars are basically a blondie, extra gooey, with two kinds of chips in them, butterscotch and semi-sweet.  The recipe makes not a 9 x 13 pan, but a 10 x 15, and when I need a whole lot of something, I still go to that recipe.

             I have added a few twists of my own, though.  First, I toast the nuts.  The pan doesn’t stay in the oven but 15 minutes, which is not quite enough time, enrobed as they are in all that batter, for the nuts to really brown.  Believe me, the flavor difference is obvious. 

              The other change I made began as a desperation move when I didn’t have one cup each of butterscotch and semi-sweet chocolate chips.  Instead, I had about half a cup each of those bagged up in my freezer from previous recipes, and also the remains of a bag of peanut butter chips and one of white chocolate chips.  Together they made just over the two cups total I needed, so I threw them all in.

              I have never received so many compliments on a homely looking bar cookie in my life.  Things like, “Wow!  This is so interesting,” and, “I get a different flavor with every bite.  How did you do that?”  So now I do it on purpose.  Whenever I see those pieces of bags stacking up in my freezer, Congo bars are on the menu that week as the dessert I take to a potluck, or the bars I take camping, or the cookies in the cookie jar when the kids come home.  Weeks after they first taste them, people are still talking about these things, and all I did was stir a bunch of different flavored chips together in the batter.

              That is exactly what God expected from the church.  He never intended us to be homogenous groups, some all middle class, some all lower class, some all black, some all white, some totally blue collar workers, and some nothing but white collar workers.  “All nations shall flow in,” Isaiah prophesied in chapter 2, and it becomes obvious when you read about those first century churches that Jew and Gentile weren’t the only differences.

              But even in the first century, the people rebelled against such a notion.  “We can’t worship with them,” the Jewish Christians whined about the Gentiles.  “Come sit up here,” they said to the rich visitor, and gave the lesser seat to the poor man.             

              Hadn’t Jesus paved the way?  Even among the chosen twelve, there were differences—blue collar Galileans and urbane Judeans, men with Aramaic names and men with Greek names, some disciples of John and others not, fishermen, publicans, and Zealots.  They too had trouble with the notion of equality among them, but they overcame it.

              I worship with a congregation of 300.  You know the wonderful thing about that?  Whatever I need, someone there can help me.  I have a physician, a plumber, a computer whiz, a chiropractor, a financial advisor, a legal consultant, an electrician, a carpenter, and a pharmacist.  As far as the church’s needs, we have an accountant, a couple of computer techs, lawn workers, housekeepers, teachers, photographers, several Bible scholars, and a host of others who step up when the need arises in their specialty.  We have babes in arms and folks in their nineties.  How likely is that to happen when there are only 30 of you?

              Sometimes you cannot help there being only 30 of you—at least for awhile.  That should be changing too as each fulfills his obligation to tell others about his faith.  But sometimes churches are small because people do not want to worship with other types of people.  Why should there be a small black group and a small white group in the same town except that people do not want to be together?  Shame on us for letting our comfort zones become more important than the good of the Lord’s kingdom in that particular locality. 

              The power of the gospel is seen not only in the changes in our lives, but in the way people of different backgrounds, cultures, and classes love one another.  Jesus prayed that we would all be one “so the world may know that you sent me.” 

              We have people who raise their hands when they sing, and people who don’t.  We have song leaders who lead more modern, syncopated music, and those who stick with the old standards.  We have people “raised in the church,” and those who are new to it; some who grew up knowing right from wrong before they were knee-high, and others who came to us from rehab.  There may be a different flavor in every bite, but we all get along.  To do otherwise would make a mockery of the plan of salvation. 

              “All have sinned,” and we are all saved by the grace of the same God.  That’s the only sameness about us that really matters.
 
May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. (Romans 15:5-7)
 
Dene Ward
 
Click on Dene's Recipes if you want to make your own Congo bars.

We had no land when we first moved to the country and were forced to rent a house in the hamlet nearby.  We were only in that big old frame house for 5 months, but I will never forget it.  Uneven flooring, tall drafty ceilings, and, when we moved in, no heat and no running water.  It was January 1st.  We sat around the table in hats and coats eating oatmeal or soup for every meal, and hauling water in buckets.  Eventually the truck company next door let us hook our garden hose to their well spigot.  We pulled the hose through an inch wide gap under the kitchen window and ran it into the sink beneath, which at least made the haul shorter. 

              After about a week the well man came out and fixed the pump, and the gas man filled the tank.  Still it wasn’t warm.  Room-sized gas space heaters in the bathroom, kitchen, and living room did little to mollify the effects of fifteen foot ceilings and cracks between the planks in the floor through which we could see the ground three feet beneath.  It was the coldest winter I remember in this area—but maybe it was just that house.

              When early spring rolled around I remember standing on the back stone steps in the sun—probably for the warmth.  Keith was on his haunches petting the dog, a black and brown mixed breed we had picked up at the pound a year earlier and named Ezekiel.  The boys were standing next to him listening, probably to some daddy advice.  They were 4 and 2, oblivious to our living conditions, and perfectly happy. 

              Suddenly the breeze picked up and over the house something floated down out of the sky and landed across Keith’s shoulders, hanging down on each side of his chest.  It was a snakeskin.  When we figured out what it was, he couldn’t get it off fast enough.  It must have been four feet long, with perfect scale imprints all along its length.  It creeped me out, as the kids say these days.  I still shudder when I think of it.  Maybe that’s why I still remember that house so well.

              I remembered that house and that event again recently when we passed a fifty gallon drum by the woodpile and there lying across it was another perfect snakeskin, three feet long, hanging over each side of the barrel.  They still give me the creeps when I see them, or the heebie jeebs, or whatever you choose to call that horrible feeling that runs down your spine, makes you shiver to your shoes and your hair stand on end.  Maybe it’s because I know that somewhere nearby there is a real snake.  I can’t pretend there aren’t any out there simply because I haven’t seen one lately.

              I’m sure you could make a list of things that give you that feeling.  What worries me is that nowhere on anyone’s list is the three letter word “sin.”  It ought to give us the creeps to be around it, to see its effects on the world, people fulfilling their every lust, their hearts full of hate and envy and covetousness, lying as easily as they breathe.  It ought to make us shiver to hear the Lord’s name taken in vain from nearly every mouth, even children, or the coarse, crude, vulgar language that passes for conversation—and entertainment!-- these days.  Why?  Because you can be positive the Devil is somewhere nearby.  He’s just waiting to drop out of nowhere and drape his arm around your shoulder.  Before you know it, you will be dressing like everyone else, talking like everyone else, and acting like everyone else.  In short, you will be like everyone else, walking around swathed in snakeskin, hugging it to yourself instead of ripping it off in disgust.  

              Don’t think it can’t happen to you, especially if sin doesn’t give you the creeps to begin with. 
 
The fear of the LORD is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate... Seek good, and not evil, that you may live; and so the LORD, the God of hosts, will be with you, as you have said. Hate evil, and love good, and establish justice in the gate; it may be that the LORD, the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph…Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good, Prov 8:13; Amos 5:14,15; Rom 12:9.
 
Dene Ward

And he said to me, “What do you see?” I said, “I see, and behold, a lampstand all of gold, with a bowl on the top of it, and seven lamps on it, with seven lips on each of the lamps that are on the top of it. And there are two olive trees by it, one on the right of the bowl and the other on its left.” And I said to the angel who talked with me, “What are these, my lord?” Then the angel who talked with me answered and said to me, “Do you not know what these are?” I said, “No, my lord.” Then he said to me, “This is the word of the LORD to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the LORD of hosts. Who are you, O great mountain? Before Zerubbabel you shall become a plain. And he shall bring forward the top stone amid shouts of ‘Grace, grace to it!’” Then the word of the LORD came to me, saying, “The hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundation of this house; his hands shall also complete it. Then you will know that the LORD of hosts has sent me to you. For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice, and shall see the plumb line in the hand of Zerubbabel. “These seven are the eyes of the LORD, which range through the whole earth.” Then I said to him, “What are these two olive trees on the right and the left of the lampstand?” And a second time I answered and said to him, “What are these two branches of the olive trees, which are beside the two golden pipes from which the golden oil is poured out?” He said to me, “Do you not know what these are?” I said, “No, my lord.” Then he said, “These are the two anointed ones who stand by the Lord of the whole earth.” (Zech 4:2-14)

              This night vision is a bit more involved, but many elements of it become obvious if you have spent any time in the Old Testament at all.

              Zechariah sees a lampstand.  Lampstands were common in the time, and one even stood in the Temple.  Scholars argue about the details of this one, but everyone gets the main point—this lampstand is directly attached to an olive tree on either side, from which the oil flows constantly.  This lampstand will never go out.

              In the middle of the vision, the angel gives a message for Zerubbabel—you will accomplish your mission.  Evidently, the man needed some encouragement, just as all good leaders do.  The people had been uncooperative at times—else why had the services of Haggai and Zechariah been needed?  The work was long, hard, and dangerous.  Yet, "the hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundation…and his hands will complete it."  How?  Not with an army, not with wealth or status, but by the Spirit of God.  How could he fail with that power behind him?

              And then the prophet gives a message for them all:  "Do not despise "the day of small things."  No, this is not the glorious, restored kingdom you have been promised.  Yes, this Temple is nothing compared to Solomon's, but those glorious things cannot come without these small things happening first.  If these people had not returned, if they had not built up their nation once again, if they had not built a Temple and rebuilt the walls, then what?

              Surely you can see the application to us.  We are that glorious Messianic kingdom.  And how is it built?  Not with armies, not with wealth or status, but by the Spirit of God.  It is built when we edify one another.  It is built when the world sees our love for each other, our peace, our joy, and wants the same things.  It is built when we offer the gospel day in and day out, not worrying about the "increase" but leaving that to God.

              And though our efforts may look small, especially when we insist on quantifying it, nothing is small when it comes to the work of God.  We all have our place in His plan.  Small groups few and far between are large in the eyes of God as long as we are working, teaching, serving, giving, sharing, spreading light to the world through our lampstands (Rev 1:20).  We must never stop.

              The vision ends with "the two anointed ones"—the offices of priest and king under the Law.  In reality for us, the priest is the king, the Messiah, two in one.  This was their hope for thousands of years, and now He is ours too.
 
Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. (Phil 2:14-16)
 
Dene Ward

Up until the wedding of Queen Victoria on February 10, 1840, wedding gowns were made of colored materials, and usually of a design that could be worn again.  Most of the time, in fact, her wedding dress was the best dress the bride already owned.  Very few had the money for a one-and-done dress, let alone one a couple hundred times the cost of an average dress. 

              Queen Victoria started the tradition of white gowns (even though the actual gown is more of a pinkish ivory), and though the traditional meaning of a white gown was not yet set, we all know what it has come to mean over the years.  When a woman of questionable morals wears white, you can hear from all corners, "You mean she's wearing white?!"  A white wedding gown in the twentieth century celebrated a pure virgin presenting herself to the man who would be her one and only lover for life. 

            God certainly didn't have white wedding gowns in mind, but the sentiment is exactly what He had in mind when he ordained marriage.  The symbolism of marriage is one He also used for His people, both Israel and the church.  For I feel a divine jealousy for you, since I betrothed you to one husband, to present you as a pure virgin to Christ. (2Cor 11:2)

              One would think that a pure young woman would wear a dress that suited that purity.  But only a few days ago I saw an article about wedding gowns with this statement:  "It's time we moved beyond the self-righteous[ness of a virgin bride]…societal attitudes have evolved and relaxed."  (Laurie Brookins, youbeauty). 

              I take issue with the idea that a young woman protecting her virginity until marriage means she is self-righteous, but let's stick with the second half of that statement today.  Societal attitudes may have relaxed, but not God's. 

            For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God; that no one transgress and defraud his brother in this matter, because the Lord is an avenger in all these things, as we told you beforehand and solemnly warned you. For God has not called us for impurity, but in holiness. Therefore whoever disregards this, disregards not man but God, who gives his Holy Spirit to you. (1Thess 4:3-8). 

           When I give myself to another man, I have defrauded my future husband, even if I do not know who he is at that moment, and worse, I have lost the holiness and purity that God expects of his children, male and female.  Keeping one's physical virginity is a large part of keeping one's spiritual virginity, especially in a culture saturated with sex.

              So why, when a young bride is escorted down the aisle, especially on the arm of her father, would that father countenance (and pay an exorbitant price for) a dress that leaves her half naked from the shoulders to the waistline, front and back?  Instead of celebrating a young couple who have kept themselves pure for one another, we have let those relaxed societal attitudes invade our own thinking.  Who says that a bridal gown should not be about sexual purity?  Fashion designers, that's who, not godly men and women, and certainly not God.  Any dress that any Christian wears should be about sexual purity!

              This has been going on for two or three decades now.  My daughter-in-law of 16 years had to search long and hard for a modest—virginal—wedding gown.  Another young bride I know finally settled for one that had a cape to go around her shoulders because the only choices showed far too much skin, but good for her for finding a solution instead of giving in.

              Consider these passages:
And Rebekah lifted up her eyes, and when she saw Isaac, she dismounted from the camel and said to the servant, “Who is that man, walking in the field to meet us?” The servant said, “It is my master.” So she took her veil and covered herself. (Gen 24:64-65)

I clothed you also with embroidered cloth and shod you with fine leather. I wrapped you in fine linen and covered you with silk. (Ezek 16:10)

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful
headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. (Isa 61:10)

Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; ​it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure”— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. (Rev 19:7-8)

             Yes, I realize that most of those passages are talking about spiritual marriage between God and His people, but there has to be some basis in fact for the symbolism to stand.  Notice that in all of them, the bride is being covered, not uncovered.  In weddings of Bible times the bride was richly clothed and completely covered with a veil.  In fact, Ezek 23, one of the most graphic chapters in the Bible, tells why God is giving up on his betrothed virgin, Israel—she is no longer a virgin, no longer pure; she has "flaunted her nakedness" so that God "turned in disgust from her" (Ezek 23:18).

              We must stop allowing society to determine our standards of modesty.  We must train our daughters to dream about bridal gowns that convey their purity and innocence as they approach their chosen mate, not about keeping up with the latest fashion craze.  And we must train our sons to be strong fathers who will take a stand about what their daughters will and will not wear. 

              God doesn't really care if your dress is white, but he does care if your soul is, and He most certainly cares how you dress the physical body he gave you—dress that will show  the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. (1Pet 3:4)
 
Dene Ward

I can remember my daddy uttering those very words every time we pulled up to what was then called a “service station,” a glassed-in office with two service bays and usually two gas islands, sporting regular, premium and mid-grade pumps, the older models rounded on the top and the newer ones square-cornered and squat.  An attendant came out of one of the bays, called to us by the double-ding of the bell hoses we ran over with both front and rear tires, usually wiping his hands with a greasy blue rag, and did the honors while we sat in the car waiting.  He also checked the water in the radiator and battery, and cleaned the windshields.  When the pump kicked off, he carefully finished filling the tank and then bent his head to the open window to tell us the amount we owed.  If we paid cash, he brought back change.  If we used our gas company credit card, he took it and ran it, bringing back a dark blue clipboard with slip attached and a pen for a signature.

              We never left the car, never lifted a finger.  It was all done for us.  Maybe that’s why we seem to expect God to “fill ‘er up” without having to make any effort at all ourselves.  Maybe that’s what we’re thinking when we sit in our pews on Sunday morning—we’re expecting the teachers, songleaders, and preachers to “fill ‘her up.” 

              “I didn’t get anything out of services this morning,” we say, as if that were the only purpose to our being there, to allow others to wait on us just like an attendant at an old-fashioned service station; as if that were the only possible way to fill oneself up spiritually.

              Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled, Matt 5:6.  Do we really think that righteousness can be poured in like gasoline, that we can sit passively while it happens?

              John tells us, Whoever practices righteousness is righteous, 1 John 3:7.  Being filled with righteousness has far more to do with what I do anywhere else besides a church building than it does with listening to a sermon and expecting to walk away holy because of it.

              God also expects us to fill ourselves with knowledge.  Anyone who thinks that comes from osmosis on Sunday mornings as we doze in our pews or play with the babies in front of us had better not apply for a school teaching job any time soon. You won’t keep it long.

              Paul says, And so, from the day we heard, 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, Colossians 1:9-10.  Becoming knowledgeable takes work far above and beyond listening to a couple hours a week of sermons and Bible classes.  Making it stick means applying what you learn, “bearing fruit” as you put that knowledge into practice.

              But others have the problem of which tank to use.  They seem satisfied with “regular.”  My daddy worked for Gulf Oil so we always went to Gulf stations.  “Regular” was called “Good Gulf” and premium was called “Gulftane,” a play on the fact that the octane was higher.  A soul created in the image of God requires nothing less than premium.

              I read a book once in which the writer was at a loss to know how to refill herself after giving so much to marriage, children, and society.  Her problem was thinking she could do it herself, with things that have no eternal existence and purpose.  She was trying to fill up on “regular.”   Christians know better.

              May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope, Romans 15:13.

              “Fill ‘er up,” we used to say to the gas attendant.  Far more important, we should say it to God, and then do our part as He fills us to the brim.  It’s the only way to keep your life from running on empty.
 
And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God, Philippians 1:9-11.
 
Dene Ward

I had heard of it happening before, washing machines walking across a room during a spin cycle because they were out of balance.  The washers of our day must be more attuned to the problem.  In fact, several years back when I put something large and heavy in the washer, as it began to spin, it simply cut itself off—some sort of failsafe, I suppose.  I rearranged the heavy bedspread and it spun just fine, finishing the load as programmed.

              Yet a couple of months ago, I went to move the towel load from the washer to the dryer, and found my machine sitting cockeyed from the wall.  In fact, if the back corner of the machine hadn’t hit the sidewall of the nook where it sat, it might have done a complete 360, water spewing everywhere when the hose pulled out of the wall.

              Ever since then, any sort of semi-heavy load sets the machine to walking—towels, jeans, sheets—and I have numerous dings in my laundry nook wall where that back corner always slams into the wall.  The washer man gave us some instructions, but nothing works.  Somehow my washing machine has become out of balance, and it appears it will stay that way.  On our recently slashed retirement budget, it isn’t worth the money to fix.

              Some of us have the same problem.  We can’t seem to find the balance.  Some stress obedience to the neglect of sincerity; others say, “The heart is all that matters.”  Some emphasize purity and truth to the point that compassion is all but lost, while others view mercy and compassion as the be-all-and-end-all.  A good many believe that wisdom and common sense will solve all matters, avoiding sacrifice for others and unquestioning faith in a God who controls all.

              “It isn’t good stewardship of my money.”

              “God would never expect…”

              “He meant well, and that’s what counts.”

              “They have family.  Let them do it.”

              “At least they attend a sound church.”

              “I thought we’d never get him baptized.”

              “This isn’t wrong but it might lead to…”

              All of these statements are a sign of a washing machine out of balance, banging against the wall as it pits one scripture against another, wresting the Word of God to make it fit what I want, instead of weighing the spirit of the law, and making a righteous decision based upon an appropriate balance of faith and wisdom, purity and compassion, obedience and sincerity.

              I know a man who had to study to make an important decision in his life.  He said, “I studied it knowing the wrong decision would send me to Hell.”  He’s the same man who will reach into his pocket the moment he hears of a need.  If you have that kind of balance in your life, none of this will be as difficult as the contentious always want to make it.
               
But if you had known what this means, I desire mercy and not sacrifice, you would not have condemned the guiltless, Matt 12:7.
 
Dene Ward