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After a hard day and a bad night, I was late getting up the other morning.  Already behind, I decided to start a load of laundry before dressing.  As I stood there in the laundry room I thought I heard someone outside calling from a long way off.  I almost didn’t—I was behind and did not need the interruption--but finally I opened the door.  Calling is not the word.  Screaming is more like it.  “No!  No!  Oh noooooo!” a voice I finally realized was my neighbor’s pierced the morning mist through the woods and across the creek.

As fast as I could, I pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed a sweater, slipped on shoes, and put the cell phone in my pocket.  Despite the early morning gloom of the woods, I made it to the creek without stumbling. Providence, surely, since I trip over everything now.  Across the narrow stream the house stood quiet and peaceful.  Either everything was okay, or everyone was already dead.

Not being one of those stupid girls in the horror movies who go down into the basement to check out the noise without a second thought, I stood there watching as I called on the cell.  No answer.  Well, that wasn’t good.  So I crossed the wooden bridge and opened the gate.  

Now I had to be on the lookout as well for the Great Dane, whose ears peak at eyeball level on me.  Not to mention the German shepherd and the blood hound.  Finally I saw vague figures moving over by the stable in the field fenced off from the main yard.  No one seemed frantic.  So I slipped around the house expecting them to come around the other side any moment, but no one was there and no one showed up in the few seconds I waited.  

As I turned to go back to the carport door I always use, the Dane in the house spotted me through the front window and his basso profundo bark rattled the walls.  I knew no one had gotten into that house, so my heartbeat slowed a bit.  My neighbor saw me herself then, and called from the back door. I had, indeed, gotten there after the excitement was over.  Her husband had left before daylight, forgetting to put the two big outside dogs in the horse field before the men hired to do some tree work had arrived.  She is 67 and shorter than I by three or four inches, but had tried to do it herself, and was knocked over by the happy, excited dogs and hit her head on the board fence.  Another neighbor had gotten to her first, which was just as well.  Only a man could have handled all those big, excited animals, and I think the hired men had to help him—that is who I had seen.

I thought, as I made my way back through the woods, as scared as I had been, I had not hesitated at all to go see about my neighbor.  Yet how many times have I ignored the cries of distress from my neighbors whose souls are in jeopardy?  No, they do not actually cry out.  You see that distress in their eyes.  You hear their desire for the peace you have in their questions, in their comments about how you handle problems better than they do.  

But instead of opening the door to listen, we are too busy with everyday chores to even notice.  We have our families to think about.  We have our own problems.  As one church told Keith a long time ago when he asked for a few dollars to print gospel meeting announcements and pass them out door to door, “They know where we are.  They will come if they are interested.  No need wasting the Lord’s money like that.”

Are we really listening to their calls for help?  Will they be calling someone else because we didn’t pay good enough attention and were slow to react?  Are we afraid we will waste “the Lord’s” money?  Why do we think it is there?  He certainly doesn’t need it.

Pay attention to those around you today.  Be sure you are really listening.

Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.  How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how shall they believe in him whom they have not heard? And how shall they hear without a preacher?  And how shall they preach, except they be sent? Even as it is written, how beautiful are the feet of them that bring glad tidings of good things! Rom 10:13-15

Dene Ward

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I came across a reference to a Stephen Crane short story in which he stated that a certain character was not even a noun, but only an adverb.  I have never read that story, so I found myself pondering what in the world he must have meant by that. My mind wandered all over, eventually to spiritual matters.  How could one be an adverb instead of a noun?  

Then it struck me.  What is it the apostle John says of God?  Not that He acts lovingly, but that He is love.  It is one thing to act in a loving manner on occasion, and quite another to be the very embodiment of love.

If someone said of me that I had acted rudely, I would hope it was a momentary lapse in my usual behavior.  However, if someone said I was rudeness personified, it would mean that courtesy was a momentary lapse; that my habit was to behave rudely in practically every situation.  One is a stronger accusation than the other by far.  You can apologize for one.  The other requires a complete change in character.  

If someone called you a Scrooge, you would instantly understand that they think you are greedy and miserly.  The Bible uses similar language when it uses terms like “sons of disobedience.” It is not that difficult a concept to grasp.

So how would people describe me this morning?  Am I kindness personified?  Am I the embodiment of wisdom?  Or am I the epitome of childishness, or pettiness, or malice?  What noun are you?

And then there is this further consideration:  can I even become a noun?  Am I too inconsistent or too weak to become what God requires of me on a regular basis?  Can I ever hope to have someone say of me, “She is love,” or, “She is joy,” or “She is faith?”

A small thought for the morning, but one that could make a huge difference in our lives.

For the love of Christ constrains us; because we thus judge, that one died for all, therefore all died; and he died for all, that they that live should no longer live unto themselves, but unto him who for their sakes died and rose again…Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new, 2 Cor 5:14,15,17. 

Dene Ward

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Most families have just returned from a road trip of some variety this past summer.  You may not realize it, but this is a fairly recent development.  We seem to think that the Declaration of Independence lists our inalienable rights as “life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and a thousand dollar (or more) family vacation every year.”  When I was growing up we might have gone on two or three “vacations.”  The rest of the time we visited family, and that involved nothing but visiting—the adults talking and the children playing together.  Anywhere we might have gone while there was a free day trip—no admission fees—and lunch was usually a picnic we packed ourselves.  

If it hadn’t been for discovering tent camping, my boys would not have had vacations either.  In those days you could pitch a tent in a state park for $7.00 a night, and cook your own meals over the campfire instead of eating out.  We also did our share of family visiting.  Although you hate to view your family as a “free motel,” it was the only way we could see them at least once a year.

I like to think of this life as a road trip.  Too many people consider it the destination and that will skew your perspective in a bad way.  If you think this life is supposed to be the good part, you will sooner or later be severely disappointed.

As we go along the road a lot of things happen.  We will be faced with decisions that are not easy to make, and which may turn out badly.  Sometimes we are too easy on ourselves, making excuses and rationalizing.  But other times we are entirely too hard on ourselves.  If you look back on a decision you made years ago, and find yourself wishing you had done things differently, that doesn’t necessarily mean you were wrong then.  Sometimes it simply means you were without experience, a little naïve, a lot ignorant.

Let’s put it this way.  I live almost an hour north of Gainesville, Florida.  If I leave for Atlanta at 8 AM, it’s no shame if I am not even to Macon by 10 AM.  On the other hand, if I leave at 5 AM and haven’t even made Macon yet, something is wrong.  I’ve been dawdling over gas pumps, stopping for snacks too many times, or wandering through tourist traps that have nothing to do with the trip itself.  The question, then, is not where you are on the road, but when you left in the first place.  You can’t expect yourself to know what to do in every situation of life when you haven’t even experienced much life.  The decision you make today may be completely different than the one you made in the same situation twenty years ago, but twenty years ago if you did the best you could do with what you knew, you did well.

And what are we doing on our road trip?  Are we wasting too much time at tourist traps?  Life is full of distractions, things not necessarily wrong, but which may not help us on the trip at all, or may even do harm by skewing our perspective.  It really isn’t important where you live and what kind of car you drive in this life.  If you think it is, you’ve forgotten where you’re headed—the here and now has become your goal instead.  

If you want to keep your mind on the goal, ignore the billboards life puts out for you and spend time with your atlas.  Nothing helps me get through a long trip more than watching the towns go by and following them with my finger on the map.  Every time I check the mileage we are a little further on, and soon, sooner than you might think, the destination is in sight.  That’s why you started this trip in the first place—not for the World’s Largest Flea Market, or the Gigantic Book Sale, or even the Only Locally Owned Canning Facility and Orchard (with free samples).  

Watch the road, use the map, avoid the tourist traps.  Make the best decisions you can at every intersection.  This is the only road trip you get.  Don’t mess it up.

Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you. Ponder the path of your feet; then all your ways will be sure. Do not swerve to the right or to the left; turn your foot away from evil. Proverbs 4:25-27

Dene Ward

            I have an unusual first name.  Sometimes that is a good thing, sometimes not.  When I was a child and someone told the teacher I had done something, I could not say, “It was the other Dene, not me.”  There was never any question which “Dene” it was because there was never any other “Dene.” 

            On the other hand, I remember the year that Miss America was Debra Dene Barnes.  Now that was exciting.  When someone asked how to spell my name, I just said, “You know, like Miss America does.”

            In a new doctor’s office I can always tell when it’s my turn before the nurse even calls me, poking her head out the door with file in hand—she always hesitates.  I have been called “Den-ay,” “Dee-nah,” even “Danny” once.  You can always tell who learned to read with phonics—long “e” plus silent “e” always equals the correct pronunciation. 

            Sometimes I wish I had chosen to go by my middle name, Teresa.  At least all these doctor appointments would have been easier on everyone.  When I was young, I even looked like I thought a “Teresa” ought to look—long curly black hair.  Now I just look like Mother Teresa.

            Some time ago, I started pronouncing it by the pet name my parents always called me, and which Keith has taken up, “Denie.”  For some reason, when people look at “Dene” that makes more sense to them.  And so “Denie” I have become, though still spelled “Dene.”  It is still fairly unusual and I cannot hide behind the anonymity of a common name.

            Names have always been important to God.  He has even changed people’s names to suit himself when he thought it was important.  But far more important is for us to be called by God’s name.

            Under the Old Covenant people understood that being called by God’s name offered them protection (Deut 28:10).  They understood that being called by God’s name meant bearing the responsibility to act in certain ways (Isa 63:19), and that wearing his name was not permission to wander from his commandments without consequence (Jer 14:9ff).  

            But it also meant that He would have compassion on them, that He would love them even while they sinned, and that He wanted their repentance as much as any Father could want his wandering child to return home. 

            Today we still wear the name of God, Christian.  Wearing that name still means all those things it meant so long ago.  Are we living up to the responsibility that demands, or is God out there calling us back home?  After all, in none other is there salvation: for neither is there any other name under heaven that is given among men, wherein we must be saved. Acts 4:12.

Fear not; for I am with you: I will bring your seed from the east, and gather you from the west;  I will say to the north, Give up; and to the south, Keep not back; bring my sons from far, and my daughters from the end of the earth; every one that is called by my name, and whom I have created for my glory, whom I have formed, and whom I have made. Isa 43:5-7

Dene Ward
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            Nothing annoys me much more than a chirping smoke alarm.  Yes, yes, yes, I tell it.  I know you need a new battery.  I will get to it as soon as I can.

            Maybe it’s because I am the only one around here who even needs the smoke alarm.  Keith not only can’t hear the chirping, he can stand under the thing when it goes off and not hear it.  So I am the one it nags, over and over and over.  But yes, we change the batteries.  As long as I am in the house I can wake Keith up and get both of us out in time should a fire start.  Still, that little chirp is really annoying.

            Warnings are often annoying.  How about the various beeps in your car?  For us, it’s just the ding-ding-ding when you leave the keys in, but I have friends whose cars ring, buzz, beep, or whoop-whoop-whoop when they back up too close to something, pull in too close to something, swerve a little too close to the lane markings, let their gas tanks get too low, open the wrong door at the wrong time…  Honestly, I don’t know how they stand to drive at all.

            But only a fool ignores warnings.  And there are quite a few of them out there—fools, that is.  Just try warning someone about losing their soul, and you may well lose a friend.  They get mad, they strike out with accusations about your own failings, they tell everyone how mean you are.  Trouble is, ignoring the warnings won’t get them anywhere they want to go. The danger is still there.

            If I don’t answer the call of the chirping smoke alarm with a new battery, I may very well burn to death one night.  Telling everyone how annoying the thing is won’t change that at all.  If I don’t answer the warnings of someone who cares enough about me to brave losing his reputation and being hurt, my end won’t change either.  It doesn’t matter whether I thought he was mean or whether he needed a warning just as badly as I did.  I know the first reaction is anger.  I’ve been there myself.  But anger never saved anyone, nor accusations, nor whining and fussing about my hurt feelings.  There is a whole lot more at stake than a few feelings.

            Heed the warning when you get it, no matter how you get it or from whom.  It may be the only one you get.  People aren’t like smoke alarms.  Not many of them will put up with your bad reactions.  They’ll either stop chirping, or never chirp again.  Then what will you do when the fire starts?

"Son of man, speak to your people and say to them, If I bring the sword upon a land, and the people of the land take a man from among them, and make him their watchman, and if he sees the sword coming upon the land and blows the trumpet and warns the people, then if anyone who hears the sound of the trumpet does not take warning, and the sword comes and takes him away, his blood shall be upon his own head. He heard the sound of the trumpet and did not take warning; his blood shall be upon himself. But if he had taken warning, he would have saved his life,  Ezekiel 33:2-5.

Dene Ward

NOTE:  There is a facebook page called "Flight Paths" where you will find quick links, as well as announcements about new books and speaking engagements, and tips for using this blog.  All you have to do is "like" the page on facebook.

            I published my first book of Bible class literature when I was 25 years old.  It has weathered well, but I still rewrote the teachers’ manual just a few years ago, giving this as one of the reasons:  “I have found things I hope no one thinks I still believe.  I really have learned better, I promise!”

            That is embarrassing, but I suppose it would be even more embarrassing if I had not learned better.  That is one problem with writing things down when you are young.  They follow you your whole life.  I worry about the folks who still have that old manual.  What I worry most is that they will have discovered better all by themselves and any influence I may have now will be destroyed because they think I still believe those wrong notions.

            When I was young, I was happy to give advice, too.  I thought I knew every answer because to me everything was cut and dried, black and white, and I was happy to share my vast knowledge.  Unfortunately, my vast inexperience got in the way.  I am no longer eager to give advice.  When someone approaches me asking for some, I instantly send up a prayer, “Lord, please let it be an easy one this time.”  I am willing to help whenever someone needs me, but now I take greater care with my choice of words.  If you are still eager to offer advice, even when it is not asked for, you need to take a step backwards and think awhile.  Realize that God will hold you accountable for the results.

            Nowadays we have something else to worry about—the blogosphere.  I know many who accomplish good things with their web logs, but like anything else we do, we need to be careful.  You never know who will read it, how young they might be, how inexperienced, how ungrounded, how fragile their souls.  Unless you have a foolproof way of limiting access to it, your blog needs to be exactly the way God expects your life to be—a good example that will help and serve, not a poor example that may lead someone astray. 

            Your blog does not come with a built in “tone of voice.”  It does not come with a commentary that spells out exactly what you might mean when something clearly has more than one meaning.  And realize this:  what you perceive as the only possible interpretation of what you have said isn’t!  Your background, culture, and personal baggage make you unable to see in your words alternate interpretations which may be perfectly obvious to others. 

            I have learned all this the hard way.  Not only do I have a blog, but the many words I have written in class literature, devotional books, and periodicals, and the many I have spoken in classes and speaking engagements have sometimes come back to haunt me, though I regularly pray over them, and have others read them first for any problems they might see.  So take this advice, something for once I am happy to share if it will save you from some of the problems I have had—be careful out there.  The world is a smaller place than ever before, and you never know who is listening.

Be not many of you teachers, my brethren, knowing that we shall receive heavier judgment, James 3:1.

Dene Ward

NOTE:  There is a facebook page called "Flight Paths" where you will find quick links, as well as announcements about new books and speaking engagements, and tips for using this blog.  All you have to do is "like" the page on facebook.

I went into the grocery store a few months ago with my check ledger in hand.  I had written a check for groceries that, after two months, had not shown up at the bank.  Usually that store processes my checks faster than anyone, so it seemed obvious that they had somehow lost the check, and my groceries had not been paid for.

            I asked for the manager, and the young lady behind the desk went to find him after I assured her that I really did need him and she could not handle the problem.  “Uh oh,” her eyes said, obviously expecting a serious complaint.  When the manager came, I opened my ledger, explained the problem, and offered to rewrite the check, less the stop payment charge on the first one.  They were the ones who lost it after all.

            For a moment he just stood there.  He was so shocked that the words would not come, not even to okay this solution to the problem.  Finally he said, “I appreciate your honesty.  Give me a few days and we will see if the check is around here somewhere.”  I said that was fine, but as I walked away I felt his eyes on my back.  I was some sort of alien creature, he probably decided.  Anyone else would have jumped at the chance for a week’s worth of free groceries.

            Honesty is a rare commodity these days.  For a country that claims to be “Christian” this is a travesty.  Honesty is perhaps the most important factor in whether or not we will be saved.  Jesus himself said that the Word could only grow in hearts that were “honest and good,” Luke 8:15, and how will I ever know I need the Lord if I am never honest with myself?

`           I think that nothing makes me angrier than to have someone accuse me of lying.  Yet, I know that others lie every day.  Keith’s work is totally infested with it.  Lies are a criminal’s stock in trade.  What is so funny is that when they get started, he usually interrupts them and finishes their stories.  They look at him in amazement.  “Don’t think you are so smart,” he tells them.  “I’ve heard them all before.” 

            And they usually trip themselves up anyway.  How about the guy who “accidentally” killed his girlfriend?  “You fumbled the gun in an armload of stuff and hit her?  What bad luck.  Where?” Keith prompted.

            “In the leg.  The second time I got her in the face,” he answered.  The second time.  “Accidentally.”  Suuuure.  Lying lips are an abomination to Jehovah, but they who deal truly are his delight, Prov 12:22.

            Too many people who, technically, are not criminals think they can get away with dishonesty as well.  They cheat every little chance they get, bending the truth in their favor, or keeping part of it secret, the part that will benefit them.  False balances are an abomination to Jehovah, but a just weight is his delight, Prov 11:1.

            Dishonesty may seem small when compared to other sins, but God places it among what we would consider the worst, including murder, Rom 1:28ff, 1 Tim 1:9,10.  Over and over the New Testament enjoins Christians to live an honest life in every area, 2 Cor 4:1,2; Eph 4:25; Phil 4:8; Col 3:9; 1 Thes 4:11,12, and it ends with this promise: But the fearful and unbelieving and abominable, and murderers and fornicators and sorcerers and idolaters and all liars, their part shall be in the lake that burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death, Rev 21:8.

            Go out there today and make someone look at you funny.  Make someone wonder what planet you came from.  Tell the truth.  Pay your debts.  Don’t take advantage of someone else’s poor math.  He may snicker behind your back because you were so naïve as to be honest, actually paying what you owe rather than getting away with something, but his opinion is not the one that matters.

 
He who walks righteously and speaks uprightly, he who despises the gain of oppression, that shakes his hands from taking a bribe, who stops his ears from hearing of blood and shuts his eyes from looking upon evil, he shall dwell on high, his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks, his bread shall be given him, his water shall be sure, Isa 33:15,16. 

Dene Ward

            Now that it has become more dangerous, I don’t walk with the dogs for exercise any longer.  I trip over too many invisible roots, step in too many hidden holes, roll along on too many sneaky little pine cones, and therefore either fall or come close too many times a week.  Then there are the snakes with their natural camouflage.  I wouldn’t see one before it struck.

            So Keith has bought me an elliptical machine.  Actually this gadget is pretty neat.  It tells me how many miles I have gone and how many calories I have burned, which is a little disappointing.  Oh, for a workout that burns 500 calories in 20 minutes without making you feel like you might die any second!

            But it’s not the same as walking outside.  I miss the fresh air, the waves of wildflower colors in the field, the butterflies flitting across my path, the scent of jasmine wafting along in the breeze.  I miss my little furry companions romping on ahead of this tortoise of a human.  I will say this for the machine, though—it is a lot closer to the five mile jog I did some twenty-five years ago than the three mile stroll I have taken with the dogs in the past few years.  Whew!

            The apostle John called life a walk with God.  If we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, 1 John 1:7.  Enoch and Noah both walked with God in a faithful life, Gen 5:22; 6:9.  Paul tells us The Lord is at hand, Phil 4:5.  It does help us get through our trials to know he is with us constantly as we go. 

            Sometimes though we act like this walk is what matters the most.  It isn’t.  This life is the elliptical machine, not the real walk. 

            Similarly, we often make our lives the destination instead of the walk.  We forget that life is just a motel room as we make the trek.  Maybe some of us have circumstances in life that make our temporary inn an upscale model, but it is still just that—temporary.  You don’t put down roots in a Motel 6.  You don’t even put down roots in a Hilton.  You certainly don’t file a change of address with the post office.  And so our roots are not on this earth.

            God wants this life to be good, but we need to remember that no matter how well life here may be going, it is still not the one that matters.  There is another walk coming, a walk that is not a journey at all, but a permanent home in a paradise where God will once again visit his people just like He used to every evening in that original home he made.  We make this walk every day, so we can take that one forever.

Yet you still have a few names in Sardis, people who have not soiled their garments, and they will walk with me in white for they are worthy.  The one who conquers will be clothed thus in white garments, and I will never blot his name out of the Book of Life.  I will confess his name before my Father and before his angels, Rev 3:3,4.

Dene Ward

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