I hate to hear of a policeman gone bad.  He gives all the good ones a bad name.  As the wife of a law enforcement officer, I shouldn’t have to defend my husband’s career choice just because someone who isn’t what he should have been has shamed the badge, but the reality is, I do.

              Law enforcement officers aren’t the only ones who have this problem. 

              God spent an entire chapter on the priests of Israel who shirked their duties (Ezek 34).  Many good priests still quietly went about fulfilling their obligations, like Zaccharias, honored to serve in the house of the Lord, but by the time of Christ, too many were political animals, caring only for their own power and wealth, like Annas and Caiaphas.

              The Jews in the Old Testament, while still acting “as the people” Ezek 33:30-32, behaved in a manner unsuitable to God’s children.  They forgot who their Father was and shamed Him with their immorality, lack of compassion, and idolatry.  Yes, a remnant remained, but they too suffered because the majority represented the whole, and the world laughed Jehovah to scorn when He allowed them to be punished.  Yet He did allow it, because the representation of Jehovah’s children was shameful.

              In the New Testament, their descendants gave the people another bad name—“Pharisees,” which though merely a sect concerned with carefully keeping the Law, eventually came to mean “self-righteous hypocrite.”  It is easy to believe in a quick read that no righteous Pharisees existed, yet among them were Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and Saul of Tarsus.  In spite of them, the general impression the majority left had Jesus regularly condemning them. 

              Things have not changed.  Just as a corrupt cop can give all policemen a bad name, bad churches can give all other churches a bad name.  How many times have I had to defend the group I worship with because some other group far away lacked compassion, failed in its duty to teach the whole gospel instead of just its own pet slogans, or refused to welcome the troubled, the disabled, and the sinner?  More than I want to count.

              But more to the point this morning, have I given God’s people a bad name?  What do my friends, neighbors and co-workers think about my brethren, not by what they have seen of them in person, but by what they have seen of me?  Do I, in fact, complain about them all the time?  Do I gossip?  Am I constantly angry and unhappy instead of cheerful and pleasant to be around?  Do I assist whenever I can, whoever I can, or do I have biases that anyone who knows me can list without a second’s thought?  Am I reliable, trustworthy, and honest to a fault?  How is my language and my dress?  We are foolish to think no one notices these things, and we bring shame on our Creator when they do.

              The church is one big House of Representatives.  When the world looks at us, it sees the Lord.  Would He be happy with the picture you are painting of Him today?
 
For as touching those who were once enlightened and tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the age to come, and then fell away, it is impossible to renew them again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame, Hebrews 6:4-6.              
 
Dene Ward                                                           

In case you didn't figure it out from the last post, the answer to the question that probably sprang to your mind is, "Yes."  I do have a participation trophy.  I know many young women who are as innocent and inexperienced as I was at 18, which is the year I received my trophy.  I hope what I am about to say will help you avoid the experience I had.  Some of these things I learned as a direct result of the harassment I endured.  Some of them come from the wisdom of age or from listening to other women who endured the same kinds of things.  It's time we prepared our daughters for the real world, instead of pretending this only happens to someone else.  Sexual harassment comes in all shapes and sizes.  Some of it is fairly minor, and other times it is violent and criminal.  No matter which side of the scale, it is always terrifying and traumatic. 

          1.  Be careful what you wear to work or class or wherever you may encounter men who are in authority over you.  Yes, you may have the right to wear whatever you want to wear, at least as an American, but you may put yourself at risk as well as calling your reputation into question and giving the harasser "reasonable doubt" as he denies your allegations.  This one thing may be the most important thing I tell you.
          Don't wear anything that calls attention to your body—any part of it at all.  No tight pants, tight sweaters, short skirts, transparent blouses, or deep necklines.  Practice in front of a mirror how you sit, noticing what happens when you cross your legs.  Lean over as you would over a desk and look up to see whether your neckline falls open.  For good measure, make it a point to hold your hand flat on your neckline any time you lean over in front of anyone anywhere.
          Don't wear anything that shows a lot of skin—large expanses of leg, chest, shoulders and back.  If you are always cold, maybe it's because too much of you is uncovered.  Spaghetti straps might as well not be there for all the good they do, not to mention strapless.  A belly chain on an exposed midriff speaks volumes.  As I said, you may have the right to wear what you want to, but there is a difference between exercising your rights and lacking common sense.
          Fathers, if your daughters don't understand these things, tell them why this is so important.  You are her leader and protector, the one who is supposed to be looking out for her welfare, not throwing her out to the wolves.

          2.  If a man says anything about what you are wearing, tell him right then that the remark was inappropriate.  All right, so a male friend looks up and says, "Hey, you look nice today."  That might be perfectly innocent.  Some men have no idea what is and is not appropriate to say.  But if he says, "Wow!  I bet your husband (or boyfriend) likes that outfit," he is out of line.  If he says anything about the length, the tightness, the shortness, or the neckline, he is equally out of line.  Tell him so and then go document the remark in a notebook you keep just for that sort of thing, and keep that notebook safe and hidden.  Do not tell anyone else about it.  Then pray you will never need it.

          3.  Do not let a man into your private space.  Private space may be smaller in an office than in a parking lot, but still, no one needs to be standing so close to you that you can tell what he had for lunch.  If a man comes too close, step back.  If he persists, try talking loud enough for people to look up and notice, and if necessary say, "Back up.  That's close enough."  LOUDLY.  He will get the point.  Then document the encounter.

          4. Do not allow yourself to be cornered in a room.  Always pay attention to the situation.  Don't be caught unawares.  Keep doors open and make sure you have a way of escape.

          5.  Never, ever, touch a man.  Unless it is the polite, firm handshake of one professional greeting another, keep your hands to yourself.  If his collar is crooked, tell him so and let him go fix it.  Men read all sorts of things into touches, things that never cross a woman's mind, especially a chaste woman. 

          6.  Do not allow a man to touch you.  I know a woman who had to deal with a boss who made it a point as he walked past his female employees to be close enough and to have his arms just far enough out to brush their breasts as he passed.  In those days, no one turned a boss in.   But she learned quickly to cross her arms as he came by.  She said the first time he just snickered as he walked past.  He knew exactly what she was doing, but that also told him that she knew exactly what he was doing too, and so would her husband. 
         No one should be stroking your arm or rubbing your neck.  Certainly no one should put an arm around you or hold your hand.  If he tries, just move away.  Then document it.

          7.  Do not meet with your boss or professor, etc, after hours, alone.  If he says you have work to do together, tell him you need to call your husband (or father or boyfriend) to wait in the office for you, or if it is too small, in the next room—with the door open.  If he says all right, you were probably safe, but you never know.  If he is insulted, tell him you are sorry but it is a policy you and your husband, etc. have, nothing against him.  It should be a policy you have.  Take care of that tonight.

          8.  If anything does happen, go to whoever is in charge and take your notebook with you.  That is why you have been keeping it—to show a pattern of bad behavior.  If you have made it specific as to time, date, and specific words and circumstances, it will obviously be true.  But do everything you possibly can to make this unnecessary by exercising the common sense listed above.  The fallout will be difficult.

          I doubt this is everything, but I wish someone had told me at least this much.  As a Christian you have the responsibility to keep yourself pure and to do whatever you can not to cause someone else to sin.  We women call men "oblivious" all the time.  Some women are just as oblivious about this subject.

         From someone who knows:  trust me.  You do not want a participation trophy.
 
​Blessed are those whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the LORD! (Ps 119:1)

I'm sure you saw it on Facebook too:  someone issued Florida a participation trophy for participating in winter this year.  Especially up here in the north part of the state, we have had several hard freezes, sleet, snow flurries, and ice on the roads.  At least we know we will have a blueberry crop this year.  Our type of blueberries requires a certain amount of cold and the past two winters have been too warm for our plants to produce enough berries for one muffin!

              But I know this:  anyone who has not lived in the Midwest or Northeast still does not understand real winter.  We lived 100 miles south of Chicago for two years.  That experience was far more than two or three weeks of lows in the 20s and highs in the 40s.  Someone in Maine would probably consider that a heat wave.  A few cold weeks down here is nothing compared to several months of even colder weather up there.

              We have had the same experience trying to explain the heat down here.  When people further north see highs in the 90s they say, "Well, we get that hot, too."  Here is one difference: we have it day in and day out for a full five months with no let up.  Here is another:  we have humidity to match it; and a third:   the sun exposure, being much more direct, will sap the strength right out of you. 

              We tried to tell some people that once, and they just laughed.  Then they came to visit for a week.  It was only mid-June, so it wasn't really all that bad yet.  One morning the visiting lady went outside with me to help hang up clothes, oh, around 9 am.  We hadn't been outside more than five minutes before she suddenly gave a soft little "whew!"  I looked over.  She was red-faced and pouring sweat.  "It's sort of like a sauna out here, isn't it?"  she said, panting a little.  She could hardly endure a week of it.  And it was constant.  Once the summer sets in, there is no fluctuation.  A heat wave?  Ours lasts from May till October.  Being here a week in June still does not earn you a participation trophy in a Florida summer.

               So I have learned over the years to listen to others and to realize that unless I have had their exact experience, I really do not know what they are dealing with.  I have learned to withhold judgment until I gather more information.  I have learned to offer more sympathy and less castigation, and I never say, "I know how you feel," when I don't.

               I have been watching and listening to all these accusations of sexual harassment lately.  Nothing quite gets my hackles up like someone saying, "So why did she wait so long to tell?" as if her delay makes her story unbelievable.  Especially when it comes from someone without a participation trophy, and especially when it comes from a man.

               I will tell you exactly why she kept quiet.  Not just embarrassment, but total mortification.  And the more chaste a woman is, the less likely she will say anything.  If she has been raised as a Christian, to keep herself pure and to assume the best of others, her first thought will be, "What did I do wrong?" even when she did absolutely nothing.  She won't want to cause any trouble or bring attention to herself.  She won't want to embarrass her family.  She won't want to hold herself up to all the probing eyes and thoughts of people who will assume the worst about her and dare to bring up what she considers unspeakable suspicions.  Even if she is perfectly innocent.  And if the harasser is older, a head taller and a hundred pounds heavier, or in authority over her, she will be too scared to speak.  If she needs the job, the class, the promotion, the grades, or whatever it is she might lose if she talks, she will keep quiet for years, even decades.

              So stop judging.  If you are a man, don't say a word.  You have no idea what it's like.  You don't have a participation trophy.
 
​“Judge not, that you be not judged. ​For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. (Matt 7:1-2)
 
Stop by tomorrow for practical advice on avoiding sexual harassment.
Dene Ward

A few years ago. after an unseasonable two weeks in the month of January that left our azaleas and blueberries blooming, the live oak leaves falling by the bushel, and the air conditioner humming away instead of the woodstove, we finally had a night in the thirties and woke February 1 to frost on the ground—and on all those blooms.
 
             Keith rose earlier than usual to start the sprinkler on the blueberries so when the sun hit them as it climbed behind the trees in the eastern woods, the frost would be washed off and the blooms left undamaged.  He also built a small fire in the fire pit beside them, pulled together from the remains of a fire we had enjoyed the night before with a cup of hot chocolate. 

              Ever since we moved to this plot of ground we have had a fire pit for hot dog fires and marshmallow roasts.  Now with the boys gone, we still like to sit there on a cold night and talk.  We sit there in the mornings too, if coals remain, and some did that day, so, thanks to a considerate husband, I had a fire to warm me along with my second cup of coffee.

              The world was waking up.  Wrens warbled loudly in the shrubs, in between perches on the suet cage.  The hawks cried out as they flew overhead, hunting breakfast.  A neighbor’s cow bawled so loudly I wondered if it needed milking or was just hungry.  Frosted off brown grass may be crunchy, but probably doesn’t offer much nourishment.

              I watched the small fire and scratched Chloe’s furry head.  Suddenly the wood shifted, and the whole fire lowered a bit as the wood beneath completely lost its framework and became nothing but ashes.  Slowly and surely the rest began to burn and fall, and within a few minutes only a twig or two was left glimmering in the white debris beneath.

              One morning recently, when we were sitting by a similar fire planning a camping trip, we suddenly realized that we could no longer plan “twenty years from now” with any reasonable expectation.  I suppose it hit me first when I did the math and thought, if Keith makes it twenty more years he will have outlived all of his grandparents and his parents.  One of my grandmothers lived to 97, but then I realized that I take after my other grandmother more and that would give me only ten more years.

              I am not being morose.  After all, for a Christian, it means the reward is closer, but I think the day it hits you will suddenly change everything you say and do from then on.  It needs to hit you sooner rather than later—life is short, a breath, a wind, a shadow, the grass, the flowers—all of these things are mentioned in scores of places in the scriptures.

              We are just like that small morning fire.  Only half the size of a normal campfire and built on the half burnt remains of the night before, it was gone in moments.  But it still accomplished two things. 

              It provided some warmth in the early morning chill.  The thermometer next to the house said 37 that day, but Keith said the car thermometer, which was not next to a warm wall, registered between 29 and 33 as he drove to work.  In a nightgown, sweatshirt and denim jacket, I needed some warmth while I sat there.  So does the world.  It’s up to me to provide that warmth, which translates as comfort and compassion, to everyone I meet.  As Paul said in 2 Cor 1:3,4, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  God gives us spiritual life so we can give comfort to others, not just for our own joy.

              The morning was still dim that day, and the fire also provided me with the light to see around me.  God appeared as a pillar of cloud to lead the Israelites during the day.  What about travel after dark?  And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night. Exodus 13:21-22.  Isn’t it in the dark of trial, indecision, and despair that we need guidance most?  And when do our neighbors need our help the most?  God means for us to be a light, a city set on a hill, bright enough for all to see even at a distance.

              And then we gradually burn down and the light and the warmth disappear.  Or does it?  Don’t you still remember people who have helped you along the way?  Don’t you still recall their wise and comforting words and their kind deeds?  It only looks like the fire has died, for underneath those feathery white ashes lie smoldering coals that will still warm you and give you light.

              That’s what God expects of this small morning fire we call our lives, and the fire that keeps on giving will be the one that springs to life again on that bright and glorious morning to come.
 
So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom, Psa 90:12.
 
Dene Ward

When you work at Florida College, you sacrifice.  Anywhere else, with the same degree and experience, you could make twice, or more, the salary, but because you care about the spiritual development of young people and because you want to help offer them a godly environment in which to learn and grow, you put up with a steep salary cut and loss of other recognition you might have received at another school in order to do your part to keep tuition as low as possible.  I have a son there who, by virtue of his doctorate and his published works, could make much more if making money were his only goal.  We tried to raise him with other goals in mind, and it seems to have taken well.

              Some people do not realize this sacrifice and therefore do not appreciate the gift these people have given to their children.  But at least one man does.  He is a strawberry farmer.  As far as I know he is not famous or wealthy.  He is a Christian who recognizes the sacrifices of others and takes upon himself the responsibility to reward them and encourage them in whatever way he can.

              Every spring he drives his truck to Florida College and gives each employee an entire flat of fresh strawberries.  Every March I see the pictures of my son and daughter-in-law washing, capping, and slicing bowl after bowl of bright red berries, their little boys with red lips and bulging cheeks as their parents work, always saving a few bags for us as well.  One flat of fresh strawberries may not be worth much in today's economy, but add up one for every employee and suddenly this is a generous gift of his means, one that will be remembered all through the year, every time someone pulls a bag of strawberries out of the freezer or a jar of jam off the pantry shelf.  He could have sold this part of his crop and made more, but he chose instead to give it away, to use it to say thank you.

              And I imagine that man will be remembered for his generosity for decades.  Long after he is gone, employees and their children will miss "the Strawberry Man," especially if no one else steps in to fill the shoes of this open-hearted man who recognizes the sacrifices of others and gives what he can to say thank you.

              Will anyone miss you in a similar fashion after you are gone?  Is there anything you are known for among your group?  How sad if not only no one misses you and your deeds but they are actually sighing with relief when you are gone!  Are you known for complaining?  For whining?  For finding fault?  For gossip?  For causing uproars?  For raising "foolish and ignorant questionings" in Bible study?

              Or are you, like the Strawberry Man, watched for anxiously, greeted with smiles, and remembered constantly because of your kindness and your awareness and consideration of someone besides yourself?   In the spirit of the widow's mite, God expects us to match the man who gives what he has, as much as he has to give, to encourage and enrich the lives of others, one strawberry shortcake at a time.
 
It is well with the man who deals generously and lends; who conducts his affairs with justice. For the righteous will never be moved; he will be remembered forever. (Ps 112:5-6)
 
Dene Ward

Last year we had a warm winter.  In fact, it had been unseasonably warm for several weeks, so warm the blueberries had begun to bloom.  Not good in January, for up here in North Florida we could be sure more frosts and freezes awaited us.  But there was nothing we could do about it, so we went on about our business, and one morning as I pulled myself along with the trekking poles, walking Chloe around the property, I suddenly came upon a yellow daisy right in the middle of a patch of green grass, another product of the warm spell.  It sat there only four inches off the ground and a little scraggly.  Still, it made me smile.

              Then I got a virus and found myself in the sickbed for over a week.  Finally, the chest congestion drained, the ears stopped aching, and the nose could suddenly breathe again, so after one more day of recovery, I took Chloe on another walk.  As I came around the blueberries I saw it again, still hanging on in spite of the now cooler temperatures--and once again I smiled.

              I suddenly wondered if we aren’t supposed to be like that lone little daisy out in the world.  Do we make anyone smile?  Or are we just like everyone else, hurrying along, consumed with ourselves and our business, impatient, or even angry, with the ones who get in our way and slow us down?  We have an obligation to others we pass along the way. 

              You shall not see your brother's donkey or his ox fallen down by the way and ignore them. You shall help him to lift them up again. Deuteronomy 22:4

              That one is pretty easy, we say.  Who wouldn’t stop for a brother on the side of the road whose donkey (or car) was broken down?  Keith stood by the side of the road next to a disabled car one night, and watched brother after brother pass him on the way to the gospel meeting that was being held just a mile or two down the highway, so don’t be too sure of yourself.

              Yet the law also says this:  "If you meet your enemy's ox or his donkey going astray, you shall bring it back to him. If you see the donkey of one who hates you lying down under its burden, you shall refrain from leaving him with it; you shall rescue it with him, Exodus 23:4-5.  How many of us feel any obligation at all to bear the burden of an enemy, or just a stranger? 

              Let’s not make it one of those situations where we excuse ourselves by talking about crime and good sense.  How about this?  Did you make the cashier’s day a little brighter or a little tougher when you went through the line this morning?  Did you stop and help the harried young mother who dropped her grocery list and sent coupons scattering across the aisle, or did you sigh loudly at the inconvenience of her, her cart, and her three rowdy children because you were in a hurry to get home?  Did you make small talk with the waitress who poured your coffee, or did you treat her like a piece of furniture?  Did you slow down and make room for the car that cut you off in traffic, or did you talk and gesticulate and lay on the horn long enough for someone to think we were in an air raid?  Did you make anyone smile this morning?

              At my first defense, no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me, Paul said in 2 Tim 4:16.  Nearly impossible to imagine, isn’t it?  Yet the night before Keith was scheduled to testify in a trial where we knew the only defense was to try to discredit him, a brother decided he needed to call him up and castigate him for an imagined slight, something that he had simply misunderstood.  When all we can think about is ourselves instead of bearing one another’s burdens, Gal 6:2, instead of helping the weak, 1 Thes 5:14, instead of comforting one another, 2 Cor 1:4, that’s exactly what happens.

              Yes, we get comfort from God, but guess how that often happens?  But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus, 2 Corinthians 7:6.  We are the comfort that God gives.  We are the help that He provides. It’s up to us to pay attention and think of someone besides ourselves.

              Today, be a January daisy, something lovely and unexpected in the life of someone who needs it, whether a brother, or an enemy, or just a stranger.  Make someone smile.
 
Anxiety in a man's heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad. Proverbs 12:25
Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24
I rejoice at the coming of Stephanas and Fortunatus and Achaicus… for they refreshed my spirit... 1 Corinthians 16:17-18
 
Dene Ward

Entitlements are the biggest government programs in the US.  In 2016, the Social Security program cost $916 billion, Medicare $595 billion, Medicaid an estimated $651 billion and all other welfare programs an estimated $433 billion.  What began as an almost negligible part of the national debt in 1900 is now an estimated 17% of all national spending.

              When did this happen?  The largest jump in entitlement spending occurred during the Great Society programs of 1964-65, but most people trace the root back to the Depression and Roosevelt's New Deal programs.  Just to have a date, the Social Security Act was passed January 17, 1935, with the creation of the original "Welfare", AFDC, and the relief programs we have today.  At that time "relief" was $18 per month for one child and $12 per additional child.

              Entitlement programs are not necessarily bad.   When a man has had his wages taxed his whole life, I see little wrong with his picking up a Social Security check.  He is, theoretically, just getting his money back, money he loaned to the government for their use and which they are returning.  But entitlement in general has become a bad word.  To most of us it means "the belief that one is inherently deserving of special treatment," and not because it is earned.

              I wish I had a nickel for every conservative politician, even every Christian, I’ve heard complaining about people who have entitlement issues.  The ones who act like the world owes them a living; like they should never have to reap the consequences of their sown wild oats; who think that having money or, interestingly enough, NOT having money, makes them exempt from the laws of the land.  While I find myself agreeing with most of those opinions, I also see this:  every one of them, politician and Christian alike, has an entitlement issue of his own.

              First there is the husband who wants everything done in a certain way, even if it is a lot more work for his wife; who demands certain foods cooked a certain way and served with certain other foods or he refuses to eat it; who requires every item of clothing pressed, even if they are permanent press and no one else will know the difference; who wants his big boy toys because he’s “worked hard and earned it,” even if it means others in the family will do without needs.  After all, he is the head of the house.

              Then there is the wife who wants everything the neighbors have, even if the neighbor makes a lot more money; who thinks she must have plenty of time and money allotted for preening; who considers sacrificing for her family a kind of torture; who believes that life is for recreation and begrudges every minute she must spend caring for the children or keeping the house or cooking meals; who recites her list of woes to anyone who will listen every time she has the opportunity so she can be properly pitied and praised for dealing with them.  After all no one should have to go without a new pair of shoes for every outfit.

              And don’t forget the children these two raise:  selfish, materialistic whiners who are never satisfied; who think that their parents owe them every new electronic gizmo the world creates; and who never once utter the word, “Thank you,” much less actually treat their parents with enough respect and courtesy to even look up from their phones and carry on a civil conversation.  After all, they didn’t ask to be born so they deserve everything they want to make up for it.

              Do you think these attitudes hasn’t invaded the church?  Where do you think we get those members who refuse to do as they are asked for the sake of visitors from the community?  Why, no one can have my perfect parking place (under the shade tree) or my perfect seat (in the rear).  Why do you think we have people who treat their precious opinions like the first principles of Christianity—basic and undeniable, and shame on anyone who isn’t as enlightened as I am?  Where do they come from, the people who will raise an argument about the trivial just to show their smarts and regardless of who may need the larger point being made?  Or the ones who, when they suffer, raise their fists at God and complain, “I’ve served you all my life.  Why me?” as if they could have ever earned any blessing at all?

              And why do you think we have such a hard time overcoming a single besetting sin?  “That’s just the way I am,” we think, as if the Lord should count Himself blessed to have us and overlook it.

              Yes, we are all guilty.  And what does Jesus have to say about that when he hears us pontificating about “those people” with entitlement issues?

Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye, Matt 7:3-5.

              Be careful the next time you rant about entitlement.
 
Dene Ward

During my childhood when we lived near the Gulf Coast about forty miles south of Tampa, we often went to Anna Maria Island to swim.  The beach there was the usual white sand, blue-green water beach, but unusual in that it was nearly empty of tourists.  Every hundred feet or so, low concrete walls divided the beach into sections, with huge rocks piled around them from the edge of low tide to the edge of high tide.  It was like having our own private beach.  A few other local families came as well, but if at all possible, we left one "beach" between us—it was an unspoken rule.  After a day of swimming, floating, playing tag with the waves, and building sand castles, Daddy pulled the grill and the charcoal out of the trunk of the car, and we ate hamburgers as the big orange sun set into the Gulf.

              The sea always seemed alive to me as a child.  For one thing it breathed, or it sounded like it in the night as wave after wave crashed onshore.  If you stood in the shallows where the waves came up to your ankles, as it receded again, you could feel the sand under you shifting, the water pulling it out from beneath your toes, the balls of your feet, even your heels, like a critter trying to escape.  And then there was the sand.  When I got home I could never figure out how it got in all those places, despite tight elastic.  Surely it must have crawled there.

              There was yet another thing I could never figure out as a child, not being too adept at physics and water mechanics, and that was how you could do absolutely nothing to propel yourself in the ocean water and still wind up far away from where you started.

              I do not recall ever having to worry about jellyfish, red tide, or sharks.  So my favorite thing to do was grab an air mattress and lie on it, well past the breakers, floating up and down, up and down on the swells, nearly falling asleep in the heat and gentle rocking.  But after one particularly scary moment, I learned not to lie there too long before checking my bearings.  My mother's beach towel had been right there, straight in front of my floating hammock, and now, suddenly, it was way back there, a good fifty feet up the beach.  The surf was smooth, the winds calm, and I had not used my arms and legs to push myself in any direction at all, yet there I was, far, far away from my safety zone.  It usually took a good amount of effort to get back where I started.

              And of course that leads us to the usual old warning about drifting.  Drifting happens when you don't realize it.  When your life is in an upheaval, when you undergo trials and temptations, usually you will be on the lookout.  But when things seem calm and routine, your spirituality can get away from you before you realize it.  A good warning still, but one that may have grown too banal and underwhelming.

              So, I wondered, trying to make this warning mean something again, why do we drift?  And that's when I found this:  Therefore I will scatter them like drifting straw to the desert wind. (Jer 13:24)  With just a little research I found out that was referring to the chaff the grain thresher is trying to rid himself of when he tosses the grain up into the breeze.  Really?  Yes; we drift like chaff on the breeze when we become useless to God.

              So then I looked at that Jeremiah passage again.  He may have been talking to Judah, the people of the southern kingdom who had finally become wicked enough for God to destroy, but can I become just as useless?  With some trepidation, I checked the context.

              They had become haughty (v15ff).  They were great, not because God had blessed them, but because of their own hard work, they were sure.  Or else it was because of these exciting new gods they worshipped instead. 

             They had not taken responsibility for the ones God placed in their care (v 20).  Their wealth was not something to share with the needy, but something to wallow in, fulfilling their own desires with no thought for anyone else.  They would even hurt the helpless in order to increase that wealth.

           They no longer recognized their own failings (v 22).  God's prophets were run off, imprisoned and killed for daring to tell them the truth.

             They had become accustomed to evil (v 23).  Used to it.  Inured to the filth all around them.  In another place Jeremiah says they had forgotten how to blush.

              They had removed God from their lives (v 25). 

              Sexual sin ran rampant among them (v 27). 

            If you cannot see our culture in this description, you are in danger of drifting too, because the first symptom may be to no longer recognize the difference between good and evil.  And when we become complacent, satisfied in our own spirituality regardless of the fact that we no longer cringe at foul language, blush at filthy jokes, nor live completely different lives from our neighbors, we might as well join them. 

            But, we are similarly in danger when we think that because we don't behave like them that God owes us for our faithfulness and holy living.   We are lying on exactly the same raft, drifting away from the shore, or, in the metaphor of Jeremiah, just as useless to God as the chaff drifting away in the wind.
 
             Drifting—maybe it's more dangerous than we ever thought before.
 
The wicked are not so, But they are like chaff which the wind drives away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. For the LORD knows the way of the righteous, But the way of the wicked will perish. (Ps 1:4-6)
 
Dene Ward

Now that the weather has finally changed, we are once again drinking our last cup of coffee by a fire in the mornings, instead of under a fan.  The first time this winter, I was reminded of a basic fact.  Cool, crisp air behaves differently than hot, humid air.

              Hot humid air is also hazy air.  You cannot see nearly as far and the sky is a duller, almost muted, shade of blue.  Cool air is clear.  Even my weak eyes can see farther.  And a clear winter sky is one of the prettiest blues you will ever see.

              Hot humid air will also mute sound.  Not enough that you will notice it in the summer.  You only notice it on a cold morning when suddenly the traffic on the highway a quarter mile through the woods sounds like it might just be coming through the trees right at you.  You can always hear better in the winter.

              And that may very well mean that we need to keep a cool head about us in religious matters.  When your spiritual vision is clouded by the heat of emotion, you will inevitably make the wrong decision.  In almost every Bible narrative you will see the difference between wrong-headed emotion and cool clear logic.  Look at Joseph and Potiphar's wife as a simple example.  Which one was guided by hot, wanton desire and which by a decision based on a cool, careful consideration of right and wrong?  And that process plays out over and over, not only in the Bible, but in our own lives.

              The difficult part of this, at least in a culture so steeped in emotionalism, is teaching these things to our children.  I told mine over and over, you have to be a little cold-blooded when it comes to choosing a spouse.  You have to be willing to ask yourself the hard questions.  Will she be a good mother to my children?  Will she be a help or hindrance in my chosen career?  Are her aims in life the same as mine?  Does she understand a lifetime commitment in the same manner I do?  Will she help me get to Heaven, and will she let me help her?  Too many times I see young ladies who are blinded by love, falling for exactly the wrong guy, and who will not listen to their friends who quite clearly see an emotional, and possibly physical, abuser.  And I see young men who refuse to understand that attraction should come from knowing one another and sharing spiritual ideals, not good looks and shapely figures.

              There are any number of decisions we make in life, some having nothing to do with right and wrong, and some everything, that require clear thinking.  Some things hurt, and hurt badly, but must be done for the good of oneself, one's family, and people we are trying to serve.  Some of those things are things God has said to do.  You would be surprised how many times I have heard God's commands completely dismissed because someone might be "hurt."

              And so, as you notice how clear things appear this winter, remember that a little cold logic can be an excellent thing.  You will see better.  You will hear better.  And you will make far better decisions both for this life and the next.
 
“Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD… (Isa 1:18)
 
Dene Ward

My jogging time has been cut drastically.  What happened?  My music studio began a boom that resulted in two dozen lessons a week with the associated paperwork, bookkeeping, lesson prep, and concerto and art song accompaniment practice, often as much as 90 pages—I couldn’t even get through it all once in an hour of playing time.  I no longer had 8-10 hours a week to spend jogging and exercising. So I adjusted the five mile jog down to three, and the exercise to thirty minutes a day instead of 45. But I was still exercising, wasn’t I?  The Lord understands if life gets a little busy.  Maybe, but He won’t alter the formula of calories in/calories out just for me.
 
           Then foot injuries with the corrective surgeries that followed slowed me down to a walk, and now a chronic illness brings along with it activity restrictions—no exertion, no lifting, no bending over among others.  Suddenly jogging and heavy exercise is a thing of the past, but it wasn’t my fault.  I was doing the best I could.  Yes, but…

              You can look at me and see the results.  It’s pretty obvious.  Returning from one of the many surgeries I have had, I walked into the ladies room and nearly ran over a sixty-something lady with gray hair, all bent over as if the weight of the world were on her.  “Excuse me, ma’am,” I said, then nearly fainted when I realized it was a mirror and I was talking to myself.  At that point I was barely over fifty.

              But it didn’t happen overnight.  Gradually I had to cut back on the exercise time and gradually the weight piled back on.  Gradually the nearly constant pain put lines in my face and grayed my hair.  Suddenly, I am not only back where I thought I would never be again, but even worse.

              When my problem became apparent, we looked around for a way to fix it.  I now have an elliptical machine in the middle of my kitchen.  I can set the resistance to something my body can handle without harm, and there is no danger of stepping in a hole or tripping over a limb or vine when I “walk,” as often happens these days.  It isn’t quite the same thing, but it is far better than sitting in a chair all day.  My fitness, which will never again be like it was during those years of jogging, is increasing, probably less than one fencepost at a time, but increasing nevertheless.

              Losing your spiritual fitness happens the same way.  It can start when you are suddenly satisfied with your progress and think you have arrived.  You can think that while still saying the words I have heard out of so many mouths, “I know I am not perfect.”  It isn’t just Satan who excels at fooling us. 

              The Hebrew writer reminds us, We must pay closer attention to what we have heard lest we drift away from it, Heb 2:1.  You can wander back one fencepost down the road and still see your way back pretty easily.  But one fencepost will lead to another and another until you have rounded a curve and the goal is no longer in sight.  When you can’t see it, it seems much farther away than it really is, and that’s when you give up—that’s when you say, “Might as well go a little further.  It can’t be any worse.”

              Yes, it can.  You can get caught back there, time ending on a day when you meant to turn around and head back where you belonged, but suddenly it’s too late.  God won’t reset the clock for us either.  So turn back now, while you still can.  Just go one fencepost at a time and you will soon be back around that corner within sight of the goal, making progress perhaps not as quickly as you would like, but in the right direction, which is all that really counts in the end.
 
"Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. Isa 55:6-7
 
Dene Ward