Several years back we camped at Cloudland Canyon one autumn week, enjoying the new varieties of bird, the mountains carpeted with fall colors, and the spectacle every morning of clouds wafting through the campground from the cliffs just beyond it, cliffs high enough to look down on hawks as they soared by. 
            The neighbors twenty yards away were a small family, a man, his wife, and two little boys, the older about 7 or 8, and the younger just barely past the toddler years.  This was obviously a planned family outing, one that probably didn’t happen very often but that the parents were determined to make a good experience.  They did everything in a planned and almost regimented fashion.  “It’s time to light the fire.”  “Now it’s time to tell ghost stories.”  “Now it’s time to roast marshmallows.”  In between all this, the mother was on her cell phone every hour or so, sometimes for as long as a half hour, seeing to her business. 
            And both parents became impatient at the drop of a hat.  If the boys didn’t react to every activity as they thought they should, they became frustrated and almost angry.  (Who should be surprised if a ghost story terrified a four year old?)  They had mistaken the stereotype of a camping trip for the spontaneous fun of the real thing.  They had probably fallen for that “quality time” myth.
            And because we can’t seem to stop helping out, we offered them a few things, like some lighter wood to help get those campfires going more easily, and we occasionally stopped by on the way back and forth from the bathhouse, to talk and reminisce with them about the times when our two boys were that age.  They seemed appreciative, especially the father, who, we discovered when we got closer, was about 20 years older than the usual father of boys that age, and quite a few years older than the mother.
            As we talked we noticed that the older boy always wore Baylor tee shirts and sweat shirts and had a Baylor hat, so Keith talked to him some about football and asked how Baylor was doing.  The father sighed and said, “He doesn’t know anything about Baylor football.  He just likes the color green.”
            They left after just a weekend, and it sounded like they were leaving one night early, perhaps disappointed that this hadn’t turned out quite like they had expected. 
            You can learn a lot yourselves, just considering this family.  It’s always easier to judge from a distance.  But that little boy can teach us all something today.  Why is it that you assemble where you do?  Why did you choose that place?
            We would all understand the fallacy of going to the handiest place, regardless what they taught.  But how about this:  Do you go where you are needed, or to the place considered the most popular in the area, the most sociable, the one where you wouldn’t mind having people see you standing outside hobnobbing?  Do you go where the work is hard or where the singing is good?  Do you go where the preaching is entertaining or where the teaching is scriptural and plain?  Do you go expecting the church to do for you, or because you want to do for them?
            Too many Christians look upon a church in a proprietary way, as if they had the right to judge everything about it and everyone in it, especially the superficial things—the singing, the preaching, the way the people dress and their occupations and connections in the world.  The way some people choose congregations, they might as well go because they like the color green. 
            The church belongs to Christ, that’s what “church of Christ” means.  It belongs to God, that’s what “church of God” means.  Christ’s church is there to give me an outlet for my service and a source of encouragement toward doing that service.  It is not there to serve me and my preferences. 
            Someday that little boy will grow up and learn to examine the football programs he roots for, choosing them for their character and integrity instead of their colors.  Maybe it’s time we grew up with him.
 
Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 1 Pet 4:9-13  

Shortly after we bought our new home, our son's apartment reached the end of its lease, forcing him to decide whether to renew the lease or try to find a more economical place to live.  When he first got there, the rent was more than reasonable, especially for a beach town, but thirteen years and a ton of inflation later, it has tripled.  As a bachelor working a full time job and preaching full time as well, he has no time for the lawn care, home maintenance and repair that a homeowner must take care of.  Instead he signs a one year lease and lets the landlord handle all of that, and is able to move as it suits him.  We, on the other hand, signed a thirty year mortgage and take care of it all.
            Some people view Christianity that way.  They sign a lease when times get tough, expecting the Landlord to fix the broken things.  When times are better, their lack of complete commitment shows in less devotion and service or even a complete failure to renew the lease. 
God expects, not a thirty year mortgage, but a lifetime commitment.  He demands all of you—your deeds (Col 3:17), your thoughts (Phil 4:8), your very being (Gal 2:20).  Nothing less will do.
          Does that happen the minute you come out of the water?  No.  But it cannot happen if you have not made that ritual commitment, any more than you are a homeowner until you sign the papers.  That is your commitment and for the rest of your life you strive to live up to it, growing stronger as the days pass, giving more and more of yourself every day.
          If you haven't made that commitment at all, maybe today is the day to start again, not by being baptized again, for we are all still learning and growing at that point, but by better recognizing what God requires and getting on with it.  It is never too late as long as you can draw breath.
          God is not your landlord.  He holds the lien on you, a lien you will never be able to pay back.  Thank him for his grace and give him your life in gratitude.
 
We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. For one who has died has been set free from sin (Rom 6:4-7).
 
Dene Ward

I grew up reading and playing the piano instead of playing outside where it was dangerous to someone who couldn’t see well.  As a result, I was about as physically un-fit as anyone could possibly be.  Even after a genius of a doctor fitted my strangely shaped eyeballs with contact lenses more or less successfully in my mid-teens and I could finally see what lay in front of my feet, I had grown accustomed to sedentary activities and preferred them.
            Then I had babies, gained thirty pounds and could hardly walk across the house—which is not exactly large—without gasping for air.  I decided it was time to change things.  Keith had jogged since I had known him.  My closest friend, who lived just across the cornfield from me, also jogged.  Surely I could do this, too, I thought.  But I did not want to be embarrassed by how I looked doing it or by failure if indeed I couldn’t. 
            We lived well off the highway on property not ours, but whose owner allowed us to use it in exchange for the improvements we made to it—tearing down and hauling off a dilapidated frame house, digging a well and septic tank, and putting up a power pole—and for watching the property and livestock for him since he lived a half mile away.  We were surrounded by his fields, including a small hay field and larger cow pasture.  Neither of those could be seen from either the highway or the neighbors’ homes.  So I drove around the fields and measured them with the odometer.  The hayfield perimeter measured a quarter mile and the pasture three-quarters.  Now I could keep track of my progress.
            Nathan was four, so that first day I set him on a hay wagon in the middle of the hayfield and jogged the quarter mile around.  When I finished I thought I might pass out, or die, or both.  The next morning I could hardly get out of bed, but I did and after Keith left for the meetinghouse I jogged again, but this time I went all the way around plus one fencepost further.  Once again I survived.  The next day I went two fenceposts past one lap, and the next day three.
            The hayfield was a rectangle and I was adding my fenceposts on a long side.  When I finally reached the end of that side, I added the whole short side at once making one and a half laps.  The day after that I added half the other long side, then the other half and the last short side, making two whole laps.  Once I could do three laps I moved to the cow pasture.  One lap around the pasture plus one around the hayfield and I had completed a whole mile.  I could hardly believe it.
            I made that progress in one month and lost ten pounds without even trying.  Within six months I was jogging on the highway, a five mile circuit six days a week.  I had lost thirty pounds.  I was never fast.  The best I ever did was the tortoise-like pace of 5 miles in 47 minutes, but it wasn’t the 47 minutes that got me back to my front door that day, it was the fact that I kept going.
            Sometimes we expect too much of ourselves.  I have known new Christians who expected their lives to change instantly the moment they came up out of the water.  They thought sinful attitudes would suddenly morph into godly ones and temptation would be a thing of the past.  Once the adrenaline rush wore off and life became routine, their lack of speedy progress discouraged them.  No one would expect a person such as I was to run five miles the first time she ever tried, but for some reason we expect that in our spiritual progress.  We do have a lot of powerful help, but powerful doesn’t mean “miraculous.” 
            We seem to expect it of others too.  If a person has a failing as a young man, it will be held against him forever.  The fact that he improves is seldom noticed, but let him slip one time, even if it has been ten years, and suddenly everyone is saying, “There he goes again.”  Many of my brethren would never have allowed Peter to reach the eldership for exactly that reason.  Peter’s impetuosity was a problem for him, as was fear of what others thought, even after Pentecost (Gal 2), but he did improve, and those people noticed instead of saying “again,” or he would never have been an elder.
            Do you think others didn’t have problems after their conversion?  Look at the admonitions in Romans 14 and 1 Corinthians 8.  They were still suffering from a background of idolatry.  They couldn’t eat that meat without “eating as a thing sacrificed to an idol” (8:7).  That problem did not disappear overnight.
            Unless we are willing to say that we have reached perfection, none of us believes that it’s how fast we progress that matters.  We all believe that it’s the improvement that God judges.  Some of us have gone farther than others, but if we have stopped and are leaning on the fence, perfectly content with where we are, God will not be pleased with us.  God rewards only the one who is progressing, even if it’s just one fencepost at a time.
 
Brethren, I count not myself yet to have laid hold: but one thing I do, forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things which are before, I press on toward the goal unto the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Phil 3:13-14
 
Dene Ward
 

Just as I was taught in my college pedagogy classes, I ran my music studio with a policy letter.  It explained what the students and parents could expect of me and what I expected of them.  It explained the payment schedule, and all the things they received for their money—far more than the minutes I spent parked on the bench next to their child.
            The letter also explained my “instant dismissal rules.”  The trick to instant dismissal rules is to have very few, but to enforce the few you do have without fail.  Suddenly you are being treated like a professional instead of the little old lady down the street who teaches a piano lesson or two to pass the time.  I was a professional, the professors told me, with 13 years of training—about as much as a doctor, so I did deserve to be treated that way.  I went over the letter at an interview before ever accepting a student—especially the instant dismissal rules--and the parents signed it and kept a copy.
            My instant dismissal rules?  If you miss seven lessons in the year, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  If you miss three consecutive lessons, whether excused or not, you are dismissed.  Those two were as much for the student and his parents as they were for me.  If a child was missing that much, he wasn’t getting his parents’ money’s worth.  It also wasn’t fair to my two year waiting list to have to wait for a spot held by a child who was seldom there.  Since the applicants had come from that list themselves, they understood that point immediately.
            My last rule was this:  if you miss the Spring Program you are instantly dismissed.  Why?  I spent at least $200 a year on my annual program in recital hall rent, refreshments, paper goods, printing, and props.  Besides solos, we always had group numbers, and if one child missed, it wrecked a whole piece for several students, not just him.  And finally, this was my advertising; this was how I showed the parents that I was worth the money they were spending.  A wrecked Spring Program was a business disaster.
            In 35 years I think I invoked the instant dismissal rule only twice.  One student was ready to quit anyway, so she simply didn’t show up for the Spring Program.  She knew exactly what she was doing, and since I halfway expected it, I managed to keep the damage to a minimum.
            But another time, a young man who was doing very well didn’t show up and had not called ahead.  (Yes, if there was a legitimate emergency I was not a Hard-Hearted Hannah.)  No one else knew where he was either, and I had to scramble at the last minute to find an older, accomplished student who could pinch hit for him with no warning.
            The next morning I called his mother and told her he was dismissed and why.  Her reaction?  She was furious.  “We had company!” she exclaimed, and I then made mention of the policy letter she had signed, telling her that her company would have been more than welcome.  “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”
            Any time I tell that story, people are horrified at that mother’s attitude.  Her son’s piano lessons obviously meant nothing much to her.  Yet while we will shake our heads at that story, we often do the same thing to God.  Imagine the mother above had been talking about the Bible. “That old thing?  I haven’t even looked at it since you handed it to me.  How am I supposed to remember all that stuff?”  I have a feeling some will try the same line on God at the end of the “term,” and will find out the God enforces his instant dismissal rules too. 
            My Spring Program was also an awards ceremony.  I managed to find enough things to award that any child who worked at it even a little could win something.  Only a few walked away with first or second place trophies from State Contest, yet anyone who came to every lesson, or met the make-ups I offered for excused absences, could win a perfect attendance ribbon.  If a student went away empty-handed it was because he didn’t try, and for no other reason.
            God is going to be handing out awards too, and you get the big one for simply following the rules in the policy letter and doing your best every moment.  Pull it out today.  He does expect you to read it.  He does expect you to remember it.  He doesn’t even mind if you bring your company with you.  But don’t expect Him to change the rules just for you.
 
He will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; but for those who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, there will be wrath and fury. Rom 2:6-8
 
Dene Ward

Keith and I have opposite opinions on how a home should look.  His idea of beauty involves bright colors everywhere.  Mine is simple elegance.  His idea of a comfortable home is convenience—everything should be exactly where he left it because he will need it there again sooner or later.  Mine is at least enough orderliness to soothe a frazzled mind.  I knew we would have a difficult time agreeing on anything in this new home.  He said everything was up to me.  Let's just say, he had good intentions.  I suppose if we hired an interior designer, s/he would have a difficult time pleasing us both.  Good thing we cannot afford to hire one.  It's up to us to somehow compromise with one another, just as we have the past 49 years.
            I think maybe that is why one can find so many "churches" out there.  Many of us have gotten so wealthy that we think we can just hire someone to do what we dictate even in the church.  This is how I want my church to be, what I want it to do, and how I want it to do it.  If it doesn't please me, you haven't done the job right.  We seem to forget that we did not design the church.  God planned before He ever made the world what the church should be (Eph 3:8-12).  He had the apostles teach the same things in every church so they would all be the same (1 Cor 4:17).  If one is different from the other, we are the ones who messed up.  We decided we were the interior designers, and worse, we decided not to follow the Customer's desires and opinions.  We decided we knew better than He about such things as our activities when we meet together and the use of our resources.  Just what would you do if the designer you hired changed the paint color you wanted without your permission and put a wall where you wanted an open concept?  I think you would fire him.
            So what in the world do you think God would do to the one who changed the pattern for the church His son died for, the body who is supposed to be subject to Him in all things, the family He is the head of, the flock He leads?  I think firing might be the least of that person's problems.
 
That is why I sent you Timothy, my beloved and faithful child in the Lord, to remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church…This is my rule in all the churches…as in all the churches of the saints… as I directed all the churches of Galatia, do also do you…(1Cor 4:17: 7:17;14:33; 16:1;  ).
 
Dene Ward

A few years ago Keith bought me a leaf blower for Valentine’s Day.  Yes, ladies, I know what you are thinking, but in this case you are wrong.  We don’t do diamonds.  We don’t do gold.  We don’t even do silver-plate.  We have always had to live so closely that any gift-giving occasion is treated as an excuse to buy what we need anyway.  Just ask the boys about the several Christmases when they got bedspreads, sheets, blinds, and even trash cans for their bedrooms.
            I had been spending hours every week sweeping the carport.  It was either that or spend even more time sweeping the house as the sand was tracked in.  With the blower I could get the job done in about five minutes, especially after I learned to handle the thing.  You never turn it on pointed down, unless you want a face full of sand, and be careful any direction you turn if you don’t want to blow on what you just blew off.  Even Chloe learned to keep her distance the first time I turned it on in her direction and for two days her fur looked like it had been caught in a hurricane blowing in the tail direction.
            Perhaps the most obvious point is to always blow in the direction of the wind.  I have quit trying to wait till the wind isn’t blowing, not out in the country in the middle of a field—I would never get it done.  So I settle for the couple of hours the carport looks nice afterward, and remind myself how awful it would have looked if I had just let the leaves and sand pile up.  But I have learned to test the wind.  It is much easier to blow the leaves the way the wind is blowing them anyway.  Otherwise it’s exactly like paddling upriver.  You can do it, but it takes a whole lot more work.
            I think that may be the best way to judge most decisions you have to make as a Christian—that is, conversely.  If it’s too easy, it’s probably the wrong decision.  If it doesn’t cost you anything, you are probably selling your soul. 
            God has always expected his people to make tough decisions.  By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin. He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward, Heb 11:24-26.  Moses chose God instead of wealth and power.
            Joseph chose prison instead of adultery, Gen 39:9.  Ruth chose a life of poverty (she thought) so she could worship God and be a part of his people rather than the comfort of her own culture, Ruth 1:16.  The apostles chose to follow an unpopular route that led to death, instead of staying in good graces with the powers that be and living a normal life.  For I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men. We are fools for Christ's sake…we [are held] in disrepute. To the present hour we hunger and thirst, we are poorly dressed and buffeted and homeless, and we labor, working with our own hands. When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we entreat. We have become, and are still, like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things, 1Cor 4:9-13.
            God’s people have always been challenged with this decision.  “Choose this day whom you will serve,” Joshua demanded of Israel, 24:15.  “How long will you go limping between two opinions?” Elijah asked in 1 Kgs 18:21.  Make a decision, they were saying.  We face the same challenge, and we face it every day. 
            If life has confronted you with a decision, I can almost guarantee you that the hard choice is the right one.  You have to blow against the winds of society, and even worse, the winds of self.  Christianity has never been the easy way out.  Yet, when you set your priorities correctly and think in spiritually mature terms, it’s the only obvious one.
 
I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life that you and your offspring may live, loving the LORD your God, obeying his voice and holding fast to him, for he is your life and length of days… Deut 30:19-20.
 
Dene Ward

Keith said it not long ago and I know he is right.  When you take a cake to a potluck, no matter how small you cut the pieces, a woman will come along and cut one of those tiny smidgens in half.
            Once I took a large cake to a gathering.  It was a decidedly rich cake.  I knew that, so I carefully cut half inch slices, which tapered to veritably nothing in the middle.  Sure enough, along came a woman who stood there trying her best to cut one of those slices in half vertically.  What did she do?  She backed up the line for one thing because it took her well over five minutes, and all she ended up with was a pile of mush.  A three layer cake with frosting and filling will simply not hold together in a quarter inch slice.  I am strongly tempted to try that the next time and see if someone attempts to cut a quarter inch slice in half as well!  Can I suggest that it would be easier to take a whole slice and share with someone else, or wrap up the other half and take it home?
            But of course, the point today is a spiritual one.  How many times have you seen someone doing their best to get as little spirituality into their lives as possible?  What else can be the reason behind such questions as, "Do I have to attend on Wednesday nights?"  Or how about comments like, "I would love to go to that class, but they expect so much work out of you in between classes."  Or, "That class is too deep for me."  Those are just the ones having to do with Bible study.  One wonders how much is too much when it comes to living a Christlike life.  I have heard comments about drawing a line in their commitment that make me wonder if the person even understands the word at all.
            Stop cutting the cake in half.  Stop cutting the brownies that were already one inch square into quarter inch crumbs.  While it is true that there is more depth in even a half inch of God's Word than any other book ever written, He expects us to want to pig out on it, not get as little as possible!  And He expects our lives to be as full as the cup of blessings He gives us every day—full and running over.  Wouldn't you hate for Him to cut that in half?
 
What shall I render to the LORD for all his benefits to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD, I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people (Ps 116:12-14).
 
Dene Ward
 

We lived in Illinois for two winters.  It was this Florida native’s first experience with snow.  The neighbors laughed at us.  Despite a lack of children in the house, we built a snowman in the front yard, dug tunnels through the eight foot high drifts on the side of the house, and had snowball fights.  I had never had a chance to do those things before, or survive nighttime temperatures at zero or below, or drive on ice pack to the grocery store.  Suddenly I did them all.
            In mid-January I woke to another new experience--snowmelt dripping off the eaves on a sunny day.  I glanced outside and the snowman had gone on a crash diet, slimming to the point of losing appendages and facial features.  Before long patches of brown peeked through the white and the piles of dirty gray snow left by the snow plows on the roadsides were shrinking.  Salty slush splashed up under the passing cars.  We even abandoned our heavy coats for cardigans.  A few hardy souls went out in shirtsleeves as the thermometer climbed toward fifty. 
            “It’s over already?” I wondered.  “Is this spring?”  But no, not a week later a blizzard blew through.  The respite was over.  This was just “the January thaw,” I was told.  Some people dispute the notion of a January thaw.  Others, who have charted temperatures for decades, cite those figures to show that there is indeed a rise in them occurring the third week of January in New England, and a week or so earlier in the Plains states.  It may be folklore, but there appears to be something to it.
            The scriptures talk about a more important thaw—that of the heart.
            As soon as all the kings of the Amorites who were beyond the Jordan to the west, and all the kings of the Canaanites who were by the sea, heard that the LORD had dried up the waters of the Jordan for the people of Israel until they had crossed over, their hearts melted and there was no longer any spirit in them because of the people of Israel. Josh 5:1.  Wail, for the day of the LORD is near; as destruction from the Almighty it will come! Therefore all hands will be feeble, and every human heart will melt, Isa 13:6,7.
            The Canaanites’ hearts melted with fear at the power of Jehovah.  The Babylonians would fear when that same Jehovah came in destruction on their empire.  Even his own people feared enough to repent for awhile.  The Bible is full of such language.  It is nothing more than pure terror.  In most of those cases, the fear subsided and the heart froze yet again.  How many times do we hear that Pharaoh once again “hardened his heart?”  Just as the presence of a trooper on the side of the road will lighten a lead foot for about a half mile, terror only lasts a short time.  And while fear certainly has its place in our relationship with God, it isn’t the antifreeze a heart needs to stay faithful.
         And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.  And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules, Ezek 36:26,27.  Just as Judah needed not just a melted heart, but a completely new and soft one, we also need a new heart—a new attitude—about who God is.  Not just an all powerful king and authority in our lives, but a provider, a redeemer, and a Father.
         Recognition of what God has done to save us, and the gratitude and love that follow will keep one’s heart warm toward God.  It will last more than a few days, and even through a blizzard of trials.  Then we can experience the true warmth of spring in our hearts, the flowering of new growth in our spirituality, and a flourishing relationship with our Creator.
 
I know, my God, that you test the heart and have pleasure in uprightness. In the uprightness of my heart I have freely offered all these things, and now I have seen your people, who are present here, offering freely and joyously to you. O LORD, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, our fathers, keep forever such purposes and thoughts in the hearts of your people, and direct their hearts toward you, 1 Chron 29:17,18.
 
Dene Ward
 

We were driving down the country highway to Bible study.  It became apparent when we crossed the county line that the mowers had been sent out to cut the grass on the right of way.  I suddenly thought of the increasing gas prices and asked Keith, “Is there a valid reason to mow the side of the road these days?”
            Turns out there is.  “It increases visibility for the ones pulling out of the driveways and lanes.”  Fewer accidents is certainly cost effective, not to mention the value of saved lives.  It also helps the ones already on the road to see the deer or the raccoons or the possums or the stray dogs standing at the side so they can be aware and slow down.  I never would have thought of that if I hadn’t asked.
            God obviously intended that we should ask why.  Remember those piles of stones taken from the bottom of the Jordan River? When your children ask in time to come, 'What do those stones mean to you?' then you shall tell them… Josh 4:6.
            I have been places where anyone who asked why was treated like either a troublemaker or a heretic.  It isn’t unscriptural to ask why.  In fact, the unscriptural thing is not to explain why.  God meant us to tell each generation why we do what we do.  He meant us to carefully explain his authority, his plan, and his promises.  Maybe some are trying to make trouble, but the remedy is the same as for those who are sincere—tell them why! 
            Do we want our children to carry on the plan of God in the next generation?  Do we want them to have the same hope that we do?  They cannot get to Heaven on our coattails.  They must have their own faith, a faith that comes by hearing the word of God, just as ours did.  Or did it?  Are we also carrying on practices we cannot prove are correct, only because that is what we’ve always done?  Have we mistaken traditions for laws, binding the commandments of men on others just as those we so often condemn?  If we don’t know the answers to why, we might be open to the same criticism.
            I have heard people ruin the opportunity when an interested soul asks why.  If a friend or neighbor asks why we do things that way in “our church,” we often jump on that phrase and explain, scoldingly, that the church belongs to Christ, and the poor questioner never does get an answer to his question.  Instead he feels attacked and never asks again. 
            More than once Keith has been addressed as “pastor” when a similar question was asked.  Imagine if he had simply spent the time pontificating about the correct Biblical meaning of “pastor” instead of answering the question.
            God always expected people to ask why. Check out these passages:  Ex 12:26; 13:14; Deut 6:20,21; Psa 78:3,4; Isa 38:19.  Even today he expects us to be able to answer the question, “Why?”  But sanctify in your hearts Christ as Lord: being ready always to give answer to every man that asks you a reason concerning the hope that is in you, yet with meekness and fear, 1Pe 3:15.
            Perhaps you should begin with this question:  Can I do that?  Can I give the “why” for my hope?  Peter gives you the answer if you just keep reading.  Let that be your project for the day.
 
Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person. Col 4:5-6.         
 
Dene Ward

Peter still didn’t get it.
            "Lord, do you wash my feet?"
            Jesus answered him, "What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand."
            Peter said to him, "You shall never wash my feet."
            Jesus answered him, "If I do not wash you, you have no share with me."
            Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" (John 13:6-9)
            Typical Peter, we always say, always overdoing it.  No, he didn’t overdo it.  He didn’t go far enough, in fact.  None of them did.  Not a one of them said, “No, Lord.  We ought to be washing YOUR feet.”          
            It wasn’t that difficult a concept.  Two women had already figured it out, one identified as “a sinful woman” in Luke 7, and then Mary, Lazarus’s sister, in John 12. 
            One of those apostles should have said, “Why didn’t we think of that?” but none of them did, not even the three from that inner circle.  If ever they failed to show their understanding of who Jesus really was, it was that night in the upper room.  In fact, instead of serving him as Mary did a few days earlier, they all, not just Judas, resented the fact that so much was spent on that very gesture (Matt 26:8).
            But just a few weeks later—“afterward,” as Jesus had said--they did get it.  All of them, even that apostle born out of season, figured out what service and humility meant.  For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake, 2 Cor 4:5.  Paul and all the others except John were ultimately martyred in their service to the Lord, along the way serving others at huge costs.  They washed their Lord’s feet, not with water, but with their own blood.
            Do we get it?  Do we understand humility, or is saving face more important?  Can we give it all up for Christ, or do our opinions and think-sos matter more than the body for which he died?  Can we subject ourselves, our preferences, our goods, even our lifestyles to others for their souls’ sakes, 1 Cor 9:20-22? 
            I once spoke about subjection at a women’s meeting.  As I was giving an illustration one of the women spoke out loud for all to hear, “That’s where I draw the line.”  No, we were not discussing Acts 5:29 where such a statement would have been appropriate.  We were just talking about sacrificing for others.  Yet she wasn’t even embarrassed to say such a thing.  She obviously didn’t get it.   If she had been next to Peter that horrible night, she would have been happy to sit back and let the Lord wait on her, as long as the water wasn’t too hot and the towel was nice and soft.
            Consider this thought for a moment: what would I have done that night?  Would I have gone at least as far as Peter and the rest, and let the Lord wash my feet, learning the whole lesson eventually?  Or would I have already been there with my pan in hand, as those two other women had been, ready to wait on him and his disciples, anxious to show my devotion to my Lord and Master? 
            Now take it a step farther:  what am I willing to do today?  Am I willing to wash feet, not just with time, effort, and money, but with my own blood?  If we would draw a line anywhere, Satan will make sure we come face to face with that line sometime in our lives.
 
Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven--for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little." And he said to her, "Your sins are forgiven." Luke 7:44-48.
 
Dene Ward