Dear TV and Movie Producers and Advertisers of same,
            I grew up watching television.  But now I find myself completely disgusted by what you are giving me as entertainment.  May I please offer a few suggestions?
            I am not a prurient adolescent, so please dispense with the sexual innuendo and bathroom humor.  I am far more mature and sophisticated than that.  Most of the people I know are.  I am relatively well-educated, so please come up with words with more than four letters.  They have already worn out their shock value, and what other use are they?  All they do is turn me off, which means I turn the knob off.
            Please give me role models I can identify with, admire, or aspire to.  Give me a father figure who is not an idiotic doofus, one who can make rational decisions and does not need his wife, and certainly not his children, to pull him out of the messes he makes of their lives week after week.  Give me a mother figure who does not treat her husband like a child or demean him to her friends, but respects him; who is not a preacher for the ultra-liberal left, who understands that selflessness and sacrifice for her family is not a fault to be overcome, and can communicate with her family without a martyr complex.  Give me children who respect their parents and obey them without eye-rolling, sass, and deeply heaved sighs of frustration. 
            Tell my children the truth not the fairy tale of “happily ever after.”  Show my children that one talk about condoms does not make teen pregnancy a breeze.  Show them that drugs are not that easy to overcome once they are hooked.  Tell them that there is no such thing as “safe sex” outside of heterosexual monogamy, that AIDS is not the only, or even the most common, sexually transmitted disease out there, and that they could easily end up living the rest of their lives in relentless pain, unable to marry and have children till the day they die.  Tell them that the same self-control we expect of them in regard to stealing and murder is just as viable when it comes to sexual self-control.
            Teach them something called integrity and character instead of looking out for number one and doing what you can get away with.  Teach them that whatever they do affects someone else.  Do you know how many times my probation officer husband has sat across the table from inmates who were shocked to hear that their shoplifting raised the prices that their dear old grandmothers had to pay?  No one taught them simple economics.  No one told them that what they did was a reflection on the women who raised them.  “I don’t know your mother,” he often says to them, “except what I see in you.”  You would be surprised how many hardened criminals sit there with tears running down their cheeks at those words.  Too bad you didn’t say any of those things a long time before he did. 
            And tell me this—would you ever pepper dialogue with the phrase “Oh my Allah!” or “Oh my Buddha!” or “Oh my Vishnu!”?  Or would you never dare in this age of political correctness to cause offense to someone’s religious beliefs?  So why must I listen to you disrespect my God?  Or is it, as seems to be the case over and over, that discrimination against Christians doesn’t count?
            Speaking of Christians, show me practicing Christians who are neither fire-breathing, insane radicals nor hypocrites.  Show me people who live what they believe—quietly and selflessly serving others and living moral lives.  I can show you hundreds of families in just my limited circle who do.  Why can’t you find any?
            I am not the only one out there who would like these things.  A good many of us are tired of seeing sex used to advertise hamburgers and shavers, and suave urbanity to advertise liquor and beer.  Let me tell you—the most interesting man in my world is not an arrogant, beer-swilling womanizer and no man should expect me to come running just because he gave me the eye across a boxing ring.  My standards are much higher than those.  My friends feel the same way.  We’re tired of having to battle an entire culture in order to teach our children how to be decent people.  Not a few have turned their TVs off.  They have made the decision to boycott businesses who promote themselves in such irresponsible ways, businesses whose only interest is the bottom line. 
            And to those who are saying amen, I am calling on more of you to do something tangible to show your displeasure--not violent, not illegal, but something that will make an impact that businesses care about—their profits.  Write a letter, using calm words, good words, not indecent ones.  Don’t become what you are opposing.  Then follow up.  Turn off that television, stop watching those movies, don’t buy those products or patronize those establishments.  You know who and what they are as well as I do, you’ve just been ignoring this issue because it would put a crimp in your style.  Maybe it’s time you sacrificed something.  You know who it’s for.  Aren’t they worth it?  Isn’t HE worth it?
 
 Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead reprove them.  Eph 5: 11.
 
Dene Ward

Many years ago we lived in an old frame house in front of a train track, on a corner lot right next to the crossing.  The boys were four and two, and they loved to run outside as soon as they heard the horn so they could wave to the engineer and watch the cars pass—boxcars, flatcars, tankers, and finally the caboose, usually with another trainman standing on its “back porch,” who also received an excited wave.  Before a week had passed, those men were craning their necks, looking for the two towheaded little boys so they could be sure to wave back. We learned the train schedule quickly:  one every morning about 8:30, one every afternoon about 4:00, and one every Saturday about midnight. 
            That first Saturday night train took about ten years off my life.  I came up out of a deep sleep when the horn sounded.  We had only been in the house two days and in the fog of sleep, I did not know where I was or what was happening.  Then I heard that train getting closer and closer, louder and louder.  I realized what it was then, but my perspective was so out of whack that it sounded like the train was headed straight for the middle of the house.  I sat straight up, frozen in terror until it had passed.
            Within two weeks I was sleeping through the din.  Not even the sudden wail of the horn woke me. During the day it took the tug of a little hand on my shirttail for me to hear the train coming so we could go out and wave.  Your mind tunes out what it doesn’t want to hear, and does a grand job of it.
            How many times do we tune out people?  When we learn another’s pet peeves, the things he goes on about at the least provocation, we no longer listen.  If we have the misfortune to deal with someone who nags, we tune that out.  Maybe we should learn the lesson to choose our battles.  If we want what we say to matter to people, don’t go on and on about the trivial or they will have tuned us out long ago and never hear the things they really need to hear.  Parents need to learn that.
            Then there is the matter of tuning out God.  Oh, we all want to hear how Jesus loved the sinners, but let’s not hear His command to, “Go thy way and sin no more.”  Let’s remind ourselves that the apostle Paul was not above preaching to some of the vilest sinners in the known world, fornicators, idolaters, adulterers, effeminate, abusers of themselves with men, thieves, covetous, drunkards, revilers, extortioners.  But let’s ignore the fact that he says they changed:  such were some of you; let’s ignore the fact that he said that in their prior state they were unrighteous and could not inherit the kingdom of God, 1 Cor 6:9-11.  That’s just one of the many things people don’t hear.
            Today, maybe we should ask ourselves what it is we don’t want to hear.  I imagine that it is the very thing we need to hear the most.
 
Why do you not understand my speech?  Because you cannot hear my word. He that is of God hears the words of God: for this cause you hear not, because you are not of God, John 8:43,47.
 
Dene Ward

Roller coasters were never my favorite ride.  I much preferred Ferris wheels.  Riding it at night was a special treat—the cool air, always nice in Florida, whipping my hair around my face, the little flip my stomach gave as we came up and over the top and down to the ground, and, if I was really lucky, being at the top while the operator stopped to empty each swinging bench while I looked over the entire fairground and even saw deep into the streetlight-brightened city around us.
            But roller coasters?  They rattled my teeth, slung my head around painfully on my neck and didn't just flip my stomach, they yanked it up nearly into my throat.  I had boys, however, and Ferris wheels were far too calm and boring for them.  So roller coaster we did, up and down and around till I just knew the flimsy little car we sat in would fly off the track at any moment.
            Roller coasters have been around a long time.  They are direct descendants of huge ice slides, sometimes as high as 70 feet, which were popular in Russia in the 16th and 17th centuries.  Riders slid down them on sleds, crashing into a pile of sand at the bottom.  The French imported the idea, but since France was much warmer, they began using wax instead of ice.  They eventually added wheels to the sleds.  Then back in Russia, in 1817, the cars were finally attached to tracks.
            On August 16, 1896, Edwin Prescott was awarded a patent for the first Loop-de-Loop roller coaster, or as it was also called, a vertical loop.  In an attempt to improve comfort, he added rubber wheels and an elliptical shape to the loop rather than a circle.  Still, a lot of people complained.  The forces on the human body caused aches and pains that many did not care to experience.
            The same is true of living on a roller coaster in life.  While it is true that we will have our ups and downs, that peaks and valleys in life are normal, letting them have constant sway in our lives will make our faith vulnerable and the steadfastness God asks of us only an impossible dream.  Yes, we may falter once in a while.  Many passages speak of faith in flux, but as we mature in that faith, the flux should become smaller and smaller.  David speaks of the opposite of a roller coaster faith, even when he is running for his life in Psalm 57:7.  “My heart is steadfast, O God,” or, in several other versions, “My heart is fixed.”  In a time of fear when others would have wavered, David is able to keep his faith in God steady. 
            So the question is, how do we avoid the roller coasters in life?  First, let’s make it clear—you can’t avoid the park altogether.  I hear people talking about life as if it is always supposed to be fun, always easy, always good, and something is wrong when anything bad happens.  Nonsense.  We live on an earth that has been cursed because man sinned.  When God curses something, he does a bang-up job of it.  To think we would still be living in something resembling Eden is ridiculous. 
            We are all dying from the moment we are born.  Some of us just manage to hang on longer than others.  Some of us catch diseases because they are out there due to sin and Satan.  Some of us become injured.  Some of us have disabilities.  Some of us are never able to lead a normal life.  It has nothing to do with God being mean, or not loving us, or not paying attention to us one way or the other, and everything to do with being alive.  Everyone receives bad news once in a while—it isn’t out of the ordinary.  Everyone experiences moments of fear and doubt.  We all go through trials.  But just because you are in the park, doesn’t mean you have to get on the roller coaster.
            We must have a steadfast faith no matter what happens to us.  “The Lord is faithful; He will establish you…” 2 Thes 3:3.  Our hearts can be “established by grace,” Heb 13:9.  But those things are nebulous, nothing we can really lay our hands on in our daily struggles.  Am I supposed to just think real hard about God and grace and somehow get stronger?  Yes, it will help, but God knows we are tethered to this life through tangible things and He gives us plenty of that sort of help as well, help we sometimes do not want to recognize because of the responsibility it places upon us to act.  Why, if God gives us help, I no longer have an excuse for my failure, do I?
            We must be willing to be guided to that steadfastness by faithful leaders, 2 Thes 3:3-5.  We must be willing to obey God’s law, James 1:22-24, and live a life of righteousness, Psa 112:6, before steadfastness makes an appearance.  We must become a part of God’s people and associate with them as much as possible, Heb 10:19-25.  We must study the lives of those who have gone before and imitate their steadfastness, laying aside sin if we hope to endure as they did, Heb 12:1-2.  Every one of those things will keep us off the roller coaster.
            Yeah, right, the world says--to change one’s life and become part of God’s people, the church—for some reason those are the very things they will laugh to scorn.  And we fall for what they preach--a Jesus who “loves me as I am” without demanding any change, and divides His body from His being, labeling it a manmade placeholder for the true kingdom to come.  “I can have a relationship with God without having a relationship with anyone else,” we say, and promptly climb aboard the roller coaster, Satan laughing gleefully at us from the control booth.  Guess what?  That’s who we are having a relationship with.
            Get off the roller coaster now before he has you riding up and down so fast, with your head whipping back and forth at every dip and turn, that you are unable to reach the grounding your faith needs.  You may still have moments of weakness and doubt, but those things will grow less and less if you make use of the help God has given you.  You can have a steadfast faith, even if it finds you, like David, hiding in a cave from your enemies.  My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast…For your steadfast love is great to the heavens; your faithfulness to the clouds. Psa 57:7,10
 
Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. 1 Corinthians 15:58.
 
Dene Ward
 

I was in the middle of making an excuse the other morning when suddenly I heard myself.  Yes, I was tired, I had a headache, and serious things were whirling around in my mind.  So surely my snappy tone of voice was understandable, wasn’t it?
            Let’s check this theory out.  Jesus is supposed to be my example.  Simply making the claim to be his disciple means I try my best to do what he would do.  So if I look at what had to be the worst time of his life on earth, the last twenty-four hours, then I can measure myself against the true standard.
            Over the Passover meal, when his disciples were once again arguing about who would be the most important in the kingdom, he finally lost his cool. “Shut up!  I have more important things on my mind than dealing with your petty concerns right now.”
            He was so concerned about the upcoming trials he would need to endure, he never once thought about what they might be going through, and left them to their fears and confusion.  “Grow up!” he told them.  “It’s high time you figured this out for yourselves.”
            When one of his best friends betrayed him, the other apostles were still murmuring among themselves about who it must be.  “Be quiet,” he said.  “This isn’t about you.”
            He was obviously in tremendous pain as he hung on the cross, so how could he even begin to worry about his mother and her care?  “Can’t you quit that sniveling?  You’re only making things worse.”
            Well, that’s how it might read if it were me going through those trials.  Instead, Jesus left an example that shows me there is no excuse for poor behavior.  Despite what he was going through, the like of which I have never had to endure, he kept his thoughts on others.  He kept his voice tempered.  He kept his actions loving.  Not even his enemies suffered a tongue-lashing of the type I find so easy to dish out when I am upset or do not feel well.
            For you see, God does not allow trials in our lives so we will have excuses for sin.  He allows them so we will grow and get stronger.  When I excuse my behavior because of what I am going through, I fail the test.  Unless I recognize where I failed and determine not to do it again, I will not get stronger; I will only get weaker.  In the process I will make it more likely that the next time I will fail again.  And again.  And again.  Till there is no more need for trials at all because Satan has me exactly where he wants me, and I am too weak to even think about fighting back.  Even those I claim to love will know to stay away from me when things are not going well, and so my last avenue of help is also gone.
            The sad truth of the matter is the one who is best at making excuses is one poor excuse for a Christian.
 
For hereunto were you called: because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow his steps:  who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth:  who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered threatened not; but committed himself to him that judges righteously:  who his own self bare our sins in his body upon the tree, that we, having died unto sins, might live unto righteousness; by whose stripes ye were healed.  For you were going astray like sheep; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls,  1 Peter 2:21-25.
 
Dene Ward

I took my first writing course as a junior in high school.  Our first assignment included stapling the rough draft to the final copy.  Imagine my surprise when the teacher handed back my paper with this written across the front of the rough draft:  This is too neat.  You didn’t make enough changes and corrections.  A rough draft should look that way—rough!
            Then I looked at my finished paper.  I saw words marked out, phrases circled and “pointed” by an arrow to another place in the sentence.  I saw other words added, and suggestions made with question marks beside them.  Whole sentences were bracketed and directions written above:  “make these phrases parallel;” “needs a concrete noun;” “get rid of the intensifiers.”  In fact, what I saw before me was a real rough draft, exactly how my own should have looked. 
            As the class continued and I learned better writing techniques, my rough drafts became messier and messier.  Sometimes at the end, it took me a half hour to decipher the code of scribbled notes and write what I wanted to turn in.  But inevitably, the rougher the draft, the better the finished product turned out. 
            I learned not to “fall in love with my own words,” as my teacher called it.  I took a red pen to my own creation and marked out words like a safari guide slashing through brush with a machete.  I kept a thesaurus handy to help with vocabulary choices, making nouns and verbs so concrete that few modifiers were even necessary.  I not only got rid of intensifiers, I deleted delayers too, then I worked on turning 8 word clauses into 4 word phrases, concentrating the effect of the writing, rather than diluting it.  Sometimes I even deleted whole paragraphs. 
            Before long I could write better the first time around, but still see places to improve on the read-through, smaller things that would have gotten lost in the obvious mess beforehand.  Even now, when reading something I wrote years ago, I automatically go into edit mode.  Even after it’s put on the blog, I notice things I wish I had changed.  What I said wasn’t wrong, but I could have made it just a teensy bit better, even after the half a dozen edits I always do.
            Today should be your life’s rough draft for tomorrow.  Every evening you should go over your actions, your words, your attitudes and see where you need to “edit.”  If you don’t see anything, you are obviously new to the idea like I was the first time I tried.  My first paper sounded pretty good to me, so I didn’t see the need to change much, but if you were to find it somewhere after all these years, I bet I could hack it to pieces in ten short minutes now.  That is how we need to get about our lives if we ever expect to improve as children of God and become spiritually mature.  We must learn to see the changes we need to make, the faults we try to hide from others and only wind up hiding from ourselves.  If I make the same mistakes every day, then my rough draft isn’t rough enough.
            Let me quickly say this: God doesn’t want you constantly discouraged, thinking you are never right with Him because there is always something you could have done “better.”  God wants us to know that we have eternal life, according to John (1 John 5:13), and that happens because of grace—not because you are perfect.  But that is a far cry from the complacency that believes it already has things figured out, doesn’t need to learn anything new, and always sees the faults of others without ever considering that it might possibly have one or two itself.
            Today, write your rough draft on the paper of time.  Do the best you can.  Then tonight, see what needs editing.  If you write the same thing tomorrow, you are still just a beginner in this class, no matter how old you are.  It’s time to get to work.
 
Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, Eph 4:15.
 
Dene Ward

When I did my internship as a music teacher in the public schools, I looked up one day to find my professor walking into the music room behind the fifth grade class scheduled for that half hour.  My heart sank.  I did have a lesson prepared, but it was not a wow-zer.  It taught a valid musical concept, one I could easily build on in future lessons—the first of what educators called a “unit.”  I had prepared a lesson plan with appropriate behavioral objectives.  It met all expectations and requirements.  But to me, it seemed so—well, ordinary.
            I taught that lesson twice in a row with no problems.  The students caught on quickly and I met the objectives with no difficulty.  After the second group left I approached the tall, slim, dignified looking lady, expecting her to meet me with, at best, a mediocre assessment.
            “Good job,” she said, and when my jaw dropped she added, “Listen:  they can’t all be showstoppers.  You taught an important lesson and you taught it well.  They learned exactly what you set out to teach them and they enjoyed it.”
            I learned something that day, something I keep reminding myself as I approach the computer day after day, struggling sometimes to find something to write.  Just do your best.  Turn in a good effort, be faithful to the Word God has entrusted you with, and let Him take care of the rest.
            Sometimes I hear from people telling me that what I wrote was exactly what they needed that day.  A few times it was a piece I almost deleted because I was so dissatisfied with it.  The same thing has happened to Keith.  When you preach two sermons a week, every week, you occasionally produce one just because you needed one to fill the time one Sunday morning, not because you were particularly enthralled with the subject.  Many times people have complimented those very sermons.  At least one of them led directly to a conversion.
            Many times we feel unnoticed and totally useless to the Lord.  We think we are doing nothing for God because nothing we do matters.  Nonsense.  More people are watching you than you know.  You need to learn the same lesson I did. 
             Every day can't be a showstopper.  Some days are so ordinary as to make you wonder why you exist.  You get up, you go to work, you come home and spend time with the family.  You pay your bills on time and help the neighbor with his ornery lawn mower, perhaps even mowing his yard for him.  You study your Bible, and then you hit the sack and get up and go again the next morning, an ordinary--you think--honest, hard-working Joe.
           Or you get up and down all night with the baby and barely know you are sending your older ones off to school because you are so tired.  But then you still do the grocery shopping and prepare the meals and launder the clothes.  You wash dishes and scrub floors and dust the countertops and shelves, change the sheets, then throw together an extra casserole for a sick neighbor, help the kids with their Bible lesson and then their homework, and fall into bed exhausted.
            Or you sit at home alone because you are too old and sick and frail to get out any longer, so you watch a little TV, read your Bible, call a few folks on the sick list (besides yourself), write a few get well and sympathy cards, then go to bed and start all over again tomorrow.
          And all of you wonder, what good is that to anyone?  Well, you never know, especially when you count God into the mix.  He can work wonders with the weak, the frightened, and the average.  He can take the smallest seed you plant and make a huge tree out of it.  Don’t you remember a parable along those lines?  In God’s hands, nothing you do is just filling up time.
          So get up every morning and do what you are supposed to do in the way you are supposed to do it.  Someone out there needs to see you do that, and if you do, God will take care of the rest.
 
I planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase. So then neither is he that plants anything, neither he that waters; but God that gives the increase. Now he that plants and he that waters are one: but each shall receive his own reward according to his own labor. For we are God's fellow-workers...  1Cor 3:6-9.
 
Dene Ward
 

We noticed it on Friday night.  The fridge temperature was up to 43 from the usual 38 we aim at.  We always keep a thermometer in it just so we can monitor these things, but we had been in and out of it all day, gradually adding several pounds of produce from the garden, most of it still warm from a Florida sun even after a good rinse in cool tap water.  We decided that must be the problem.

The next morning, after a good 12 hours without opening the door, the fridge temperature was up to 48.  Well, that's not good, we thought, and called our friendly appliance repairman who also happens to be a brother.  We told him it was not an emergency, so don't come out on a weekend, but was there something we could check and maybe fix ourselves?  Not really, as it turns out, so we loaded it with ice blocks in an effort to use it as one big cooler until we could have it seen to. 

On Sunday morning, the temperature was up to 56.  Since, during the lockdown, we are having our own church services with one of our other members, we did so as usual, and then called the repairman again.  He was perfectly happy to come check things out, and even brought his family so we could chat while he and Keith worked on the fridge.  By the time he arrived, after we had both had our "in-home family services," the temperature was up to 68 inside the refrigerator.  Considering the huge blocks of ice we had placed in it to obviously no avail, we expected this to be a really huge, and expensive, problem. Maybe even a total replacement problem.

It only took about five minutes to discover what was wrong.  He looked at Keith and said, "Your thermometer says it's 68 in here.  Mine, even with me standing here with the door wide open, says it's 42."  The refrigerator wasn't broken; the thermometer was.  Whew!  Cheap fix, even if a little embarrassing.

It's easy to look good when you measure yourself against the world.  The more I read about the ancient Romans, the more frightened I become for our country's sake.  Sometimes you can't tell which country is being described—them or us.  Considering what God did to them, I worry what might happen here.

You can look pretty good when you measure yourself against your neighbors, too.  Many are decent people, but the majority would not have any qualms about a little cheating on their taxes, or telling "little white lies," or using the common expletives we hear all around us.  You, I hope, would know better and do better.

And if you are really careful about whom you choose, you can even look good compared to some of your brethren.  We are all fighting battles, but some fight a lot harder than others who have just decided "that's how I am," and let it go.  Yes, when you measure yourself against someone with that attitude, you will probably come out on top.

But God expects us to use His standard.  We are called to follow a much worthier calling and a much higher example than the people around us.  For God called you to do good, even if it means suffering, just as Christ suffered for you. He is your example, and you must follow in his steps. He never sinned, nor ever deceived anyone. He did not retaliate when he was insulted, nor threaten revenge when he suffered. He left his case in the hands of God, who always judges fairly. (1Pet 2:21-23).

God will judge you fairly too, based on His standard, not the one you might be using now.  You might wind up thinking you are just fine, when the reality is far different.
 
Not that we dare to classify or compare ourselves with some of those who are commending themselves. But when they measure themselves by one another and compare themselves with one another, they are without understanding.  (2Cor 10:12)
 
Dene Ward

I understand that the term “Southernism” refers to a trait of language or behavior that is characteristic of the South or Southerners.  I have a cookbook, Cooking Across the South compiled by Lillian Marshall, which extrapolates that definition to include certain Southern recipes, particularly older recipes.  She includes in that list things like hominy, frocking, poke sallet, and tomato gravy.  If you are from north of the Mason-Dixon Line, I am sure you are scratching your head at some of those things, wondering just what in the world they are besides strange.
            In the same vein, I wondered if we could stretch that idea to something we might call “Christianisms,” things a Christian would do that might seem peculiar to someone who isn’t one.  Like never using what the world now calls “colorful language;” like remaining calm and civil when someone mistreats you, doing, in fact, something nice for them; like not cheating on your taxes; like giving back the change that a cashier overpays you; like paying attention to the speed limit and other laws of the land even if there is not a trooper behind you; like cooking or cleaning house for an invalid; like making time for the worship on Sunday morning and arriving at the ball game late even if those tickets did cost a small fortune; like being careful of the clothing you choose to wear; like choosing not to see certain movies or watch certain television shows; like thinking that spending time with other Christians is far more enjoyable than things like “clubbing;” —these are my idea of Christianisms.  I am sure you could add more to the list.
            In the cookbook, I must admit, are many things I have never heard of, despite being a born and bred Southerner—frocking, for one.  You see I came along at a time when the South was starting to change, especially my part of it.  Disney changed everything.  Orlando used to be a one-horse town instead of the metropolis it has become.  I actually learned how to drive in Tampa on what is now I-275.  Can you imagine letting a first timer do that?  My part of the South has become less “southern” as the years have passed.  So, while I had roots in the traditions of the Deep South, I have lost familiarity with many of them.
            Wouldn’t it be a shame if we got to that point with “Christianisms?”  When you read that list I made, did you stop somewhere along the line and say, “Huh? Why would anyone do that?”  Have we allowed the “worldisms” to take the place of concepts and behaviors that ought to be second nature to us?  Can we even compose a list of things that make us different or have we become assimilated?
            Try making a list of the “Christianisms” in your life today.  Make sure you can come up with some, and if not, maybe it’s time to make a few changes.
 
Do all things without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent,  children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation,  among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life…Phil 2:14-16a.
 
Dene Ward

We live on wooded property—spreading live oaks, pencil straight slash pines, red and silver maples, fast-growing sycamores, sweet gums with their spiky balls, wild cherry and water oaks, both of which will split and fall at the least breeze.  When I walk Chloe around the perimeter I dodge fallen limbs, both deadfall and green, every ten feet or so.  Sometimes I find larger limbs that have fallen overnight, and once one fell right in my path just seconds after I had passed. 
              Often in the night, especially a windy one in the spring or fall as fronts pass through, I hear limbs hit the roof.  They are surprisingly loud and I awake expecting to find something large and heavy only to waste Keith’s time as he climbs the ladder to discover a two foot long twig no bigger around than his thumb.  It certainly sounded bigger than that!
              A few months ago, after a particularly windy winter storm, Chloe and I came upon a fallen pine limb, three feet long maybe and about two inches in diameter.  This one, though, was not lying on the ground.  The wind had cast this one with enough force that it had stuck straight into the ground through the sod.  I pulled it out and a full six inches of it was below the surface.  Imagine if that one had come hurtling through the sky at me as I walked by.
              Words are a bit like fallen limbs.  You never know who they will hit and how.  We are often just as careless as the wind in hurtling them about.  We may think the only one who hears is the one we are addressing.  We may think that everyone knows us and understands how it is meant.  We may think that what was said was perfectly innocent and completely impossible to mistake for something bad.  We may be very wrong.
              Yes, people need to listen with as much charity as we need to speak.  The Bible, particularly the wisdom literature, is full of cautions not only about how we speak but how we listen.  Even Jesus said, “Take heed how you hear.”  Hearing involves maybe as much responsibility as speaking. Do not take to heart all the things that people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. Your heart knows that many times you yourself have cursed others, Eccl 7:21,22.
              But just maybe we could stand to be a bit more careful in our speaking.  Words can hurt, and unlike physical wounds, may never heal.  What sounds like a twig to us may sound like a massive branch falling on the roof to the hearer.  And a multitude of the same kinds of words has an effect that is hard to erase.  What kinds of words do I use the most?  Praise or criticism?  Thanksgiving or complaining?  Encouragement or rebuke?  Tough love is necessary and is necessarily painful, but do I ever practice any other kind?  Are all my words, or even just the majority, “tough?”  And am I proud of having that sort of reputation?  Do people cringe when they see me coming?
              Those things I can control, but what about the things I say that are not meant to harm, but still manage to do so?  What about things I toss off without thought, directed at no one in particular, but that, like a fallen limb, accidentally come close to someone else’s heart?  Yes, for those who are mature, we can go back to the responsibility laid on hearers in that Ecclesiastes passage and in Jesus’ and the apostles’ words about being quick to judge, but what about the perfectly innocent babes?  What about young impressionable Christians? 
              If I shoot a gun into the air, the bullet will land somewhere, and my having shot it will make me accountable to the law of the land.  Will God’s law hold us any less accountable for the spiritually injured? 
 
I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned, Matt 12:36,37.
 
Dene Ward

Baseball in America was first played as an official game in 1846, but uniforms were not worn by the teams until the New York Knickerbockers did so on April 4, 1849.  It took fifty more years for all Major League baseball players to wear official team uniforms.  Today nearly all sports players wear official team apparel.
              Uniforms have several purposes.  First, it helps to be able to identify at a glance who your teammates are.  If the quarterback threw to the wrong receiver, or the point guard passed to the wrong center, chaos would ensue.
              Second, everyone wearing the same colors helps develop unity, and motivates the players to do their best for one another.  It also fosters a sense of equality.  Everyone wears the uniform, not just the star players.
              For a couple of years now I have seen some college football teams wearing odd uniforms splotched with camouflage here and there, and with “names” like Honor, Courage, Integrity, Commitment, Service, and Duty sewn on the back where ordinarily the player’s name would have been.  I have discovered that this is a joint effort with the Wounded Warriors Project, a nonprofit organization supplying programs and services to injured servicemen and their families.  After the game, the uniforms are auctioned off and 100% of the proceeds go to the project.
              What a worthy endeavor, yet wearing those uniforms has caused some amusement among sportscasters.  At least twice I have seen “Integrity” commit a personal foul, and don’t believe for a minute that the announcers ignored all the possible jokes they could make about it.
              That made me wonder what would happen if Christians wore uniforms.  As much as I hate the way we take those lists we find in the New Testament (fruit of the Spirit, Christian “graces,” etc.) ignoring them as a comprehensive unit, and using them instead like individual casseroles on a buffet line from which we can pick and choose, what if one of those traits were printed on the backs of our jerseys?  Would people find our actions so amusing?  If “self-control” became angry and threw something across the room, if “mercy” gave as good (or as bad?) as he got, if “kindness” snarled at someone in his way, how would that effect the way others view the faith we so casually claim?
              Wait a minute!  This might actually be good for us.  If each one of us had the trait we have the most difficulty with posted on our backs, maybe we would be aware every minute of the day and actually behave a little better.  For you see, that is the problem with most of us.  We go through our lives without thinking; we just react, and that is when the “automatic” happens instead of the new characteristic we are supposed to be developing.  If we wore that jersey every day for a month, don’t you suppose “automatic” would become the right thing instead of the wrong thing?
              So today, think what needs to be written on your back—not the thing you find easiest, but the thing you find the hardest to do, and pretend it is there every minute of the day.  You see, your friends and neighbors are not ignorant of the personality a Christian is supposed to exhibit, and they know where you fall short.  They see that very word on your back every moment and it is what they use as an excuse when you try to recruit them.  Why would they want to be on a team where Integrity cheats on his taxes, where Commitment ogles the women in the office, and where Service never did a thing for anyone if it didn’t offer him a good return?
              Put on your uniform every day.  Remember what is written on your back, and do your best to live up to it.
 
Do all things without grumbling or questioning, 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, Phil 2:14,15.
 
Dene Ward