Forget-me-nots are small unassuming plants with tiny blooms.  I read one legend in which God is busy naming the flowers and nearly finished when a small one whispers plaintively, “Forget-me-not.”  God replies, “I won’t, and that shall be your name.”  Of course that is not how it happened, but the plea for God not to “forget me” has sounded out down through the ages.
            How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever? Psalm 13:1. 
            Of course God does not forget His people.  But Zion said…the Lord has forgotten me.  Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb.  Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you, Isa 49:14,15.
            Everyone knows God does not forget us, but even a nursing child, when hunger strikes, wonders why his mother is not taking care of him RIGHT THIS MINUTE!  “She must have forgotten me.”
            If we do a little research, we can understand what David meant in the psalm.  The opposite of “forget” is “remember” and both words have connotations we may not realize.
            In Gen 8:1 “God remembered” Noah and the animals, and made the rain stop.
            In Gen 19:29, “God remembered” Abraham, and spared Lot from Sodom.
            In Gen 30:22, “God remembered” Rachel, and gave her a son.
            In Ex 2:24, “God remembered” his covenant with Abraham, and sent Moses to save the people
            In 1 Sam 1:19,20, “God remembered” Hannah, and gave her a son.
            Do you see it?  Every time we are told “God remembered” He acted.  If “remembering” means to act, then “forgetting” means the opposite, no action.  David could see no deliverance.  It was not that he thought God had really removed him from His mind, it was that he could not see God coming to his aid when he needed it.
            In the midst of trials we may not be able to see the hand of God.  He often works behind the scenes.  He usually uses the hands of others to accomplish His will and those hands may be slow in acting.  His timetable may not match ours.  In fact, we may even face times when it seems He “forgot” us.  Rest assured He has not. 
            It is not for us to demand explanations from an Almighty Creator.  It is for us to follow the solution David ultimately comes to in verse five:  I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.  David had not yet seen that salvation, but he trusted so implicitly it was as if it had already happened.  I will sing to the Lord because He has dealt bountifully with me, v 6.
            David began this psalm with fear and depression which fell on him because the trial was long and hard and he saw no relief in sight.  Eventually he sank into despondency.  He felt completely alone. Because he felt alone, he even looked to himself for advice.   How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart?  The worst counselor you can have is yourself.  If all you do is look inward, you will despair.  According to David, you must look outside yourself to find help and consolation.
            When David states his solution, “I will trust in the Lord,” he is making a choice:  “I will.”  That choice to trust God cannot be taken away from you by anyone, whether a physical or spiritual Enemy. 
            When we face trials—especially long, difficult ordeals—we should remember Psalm 13.  What began with a charge of God forgetting ended with a trust in His bounty so complete it is as if it had already been accomplished, even more (“bountifully”) than was necessary.
            God did not forget the tiny flower and He does not forget us either.  It is up to us to choose His help when it is offered and how it is offered, not the way we think is best, but in the manner our Wise Creator knows is best.
 
Behold the eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him, on those who hope in His steadfast love, Psalm 33:18.
 
Dene Ward

It’s a classic kids’ comment, one Keith and I make to one another for laughs, but we never really had to deal with it when the boys were little.  Frankly, parents are their own worst enemies about things like this—your children know exactly what they can and cannot get away with long before they can even tell you in words.  If you don’t want to hear that particular whine, then do something about it.
            Yet still I thought of that question when I was working on Psalm 13.  “How long?” David asks, not once, but four times in the first two verses.  It was just as common then as it is now.  Habakkuk’s psalm begins, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help and you will not hear?” Hab 1:2. The martyrs pictured around the throne of God cry out, “O Sovereign Lord...how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Rev. 6:9,10.  “How long” is indeed a common complaint in the scriptures—I found it listed 52 times!
            And the point is this, these people are undergoing not just trials, but long, drawn out trials.  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” we often say, and that means it crawls when you aren’t.
            “It is not under the sharpest, but the longest trials that we are most in danger of fainting,” Andrew Fuller says in Spurgeon’s Treasury of David.  It is so true.  Just last week I nearly lost it over something small and inconsequential. 
            Being married to a deaf man can be extremely frustrating.  Three times in one hour Keith and I had a misunderstanding based totally on the fact that he could not hear what I was saying.  If he could have heard just three words, none of it would have even mattered, but because he couldn’t, it made the situation more and more complex, and more and more exasperating as it went on.  And the reason I couldn’t handle it that morning?  Not because it was three times in one hour, but because we have been dealing with it for fifty-one years now.
            But who am I to complain?  The woman in Luke 8 had her issue of blood for 12 years.  The woman who had the spirit of infirmity in Luke 13 had been suffering for 18 years.  The man who lay at the pool of Bethesda (John 5) had done so for 38 years.  The blind beggar in John 9 had been that way from birth.  Sarah had waited for a child for decades.  The people of God waited for a Messiah for several thousand years!  These people had far more reason than I to ask God, “How long?”
            All of us are prone to ask, “Are we there yet?”  and sometimes the answer does not come in this lifetime.  That may be the most difficult thing to deal with.  Some are born into suffering and never get out of it.  Some, due to random accident or maybe even their own bad choices, suffer for the remaining years of their lives and never see a reason.  God has His plans and we are not always privy to them.    
            But one day we will receive the answer we want to hear: “How long? Now! We are there!”  The waiting will be over, no more suffering of any sort, even the petty little annoyances that no one else can understand, that drive you up a wall on a bad day, that fill you with guilt when your mind clears and you finally recognize just how blessed you truly are. 
            Some day we will arrive, and we won’t be going on any more long difficult journeys ever again.
 
It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. Deuteronomy 31:8.                                
 
Dene Ward
 

My grandsons love playing in the park.  Their city yard is postage stamp small without room for two active little boys to run around much, so they enjoy a place with swings, slides, jungle gyms and seesaws.  I even get on the seesaws with them, helping with the large weight deficit on their side by using my legs.
            Seesaws may be fun at the playground, but they are not God’s idea of ideal service.  Yes, we may falter once in awhile.  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 seesaw 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 seesaws 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, and always good, and something is wrong when anything bad happens.  Nonsense.  We live on an earth that has been cursed because of man’s sin.  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 are 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 awhile—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 seesaw.
            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. 
            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 seesaw.
            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 seesaw, Satan laughing gleefully at us from the other end.  Guess what?  That’s who we are having a relationship with.
            Get off the seesaw now before he has you sitting so high up on it, your legs dangling beneath you, 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 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 am getting tired of this.  Too many times lately I have heard that we should not worry about the examples left to us in God’s word—we can’t do it anyway.  It’s just a bunch of idealism.  We should be content with what we can do so our self-esteem won’t suffer; so we won’t have to deal with guilt; so we won’t push ourselves beyond our limits.  We should stop looking to Biblical role models and just be ourselves.
            Maybe it’s the generation I came from.  Maybe it’s the family work ethic I grew up with.  I can just hear my grandmothers both saying, “If you have time to whine, you have time to do a little more work.” 
            Those women just did what had to be done, when it had to be done, how it had to be done, and never expected praise for it.  They never suffered a lack of self-esteem either.  They were both happy women, content with their lots in life despite the real sweat they sweated and the long hours they kept, both in the home and in the workplace.  One grandmother, widowed from her 40s, was still walking to work in her 70s.  In Florida.  Even in the summer.  If you had told them they were strong women, they would have laughed in your face.
            I am tired of having Biblical examples held up as impossible.  I am tired of hearing how we should just ignore them and not worry about being like them, because we can’t anyway.  God has always given His people examples to follow.  Moses, Aaron, Miriam, Abraham, Samuel, and David were always held up for the Israelites to emulate throughout the chronicles, the psalms and the prophets.  What?  Should He have given them a reprobate to imitate?
            The Hebrew writer gives us a whole list of people to model ourselves after.  And guess what?  Not a one of them was perfect—yet they all did at least one amazing act of faith, something we probably think we “just can’t do.”  Shall we ignore them because, after all, God would not want us to experience a feeling of failure? 
            Paul told the Corinthians in 1 Cor 11:1 to follow his example.  Yes, it was a specific example the context of which begins in chapter 8, but still—can we imitate Paul at all?  Or shall we claim disability and dispense with his advice?  “After all, we’re not Paul…”
            I am tired of having women who began in the depths of sin held up as the example to follow as if they had never changed.  Jesus told the adulterous woman in John 8, “Go thy way and sin no more.”  Wasn’t that an impossible task?  But I bet that forgiven woman tried to accomplish it a whole lot harder than we do and succeeded far better for the trying. 
            If we are asking too much of people to strive for the ideal, then how could Peter have ever written:  For to this you have been called because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example so that you might follow in his steps, 1 Pet 2:21.  How could Paul have said we are to be “conformed to the image of His son,” Rom 8:29; and “walk in love as Christ loved us” Eph 5:2; and “Have this mind in you which was also in Christ” Phil 2:5?  How could John have dared write “If we abide in him we should walk as he walked” 1 John 2:6?
            Certainly following Christ’s example perfectly is a difficult task.  But tell me, how can you ever become better if the goal you have set before yourself is easily attainable?  If I wanted to become a long distance runner, surely my goal should be something more than running down to the mailbox and back—even my mailbox which is nearly half a mile away.  Surely if it is frustrating to model ourselves after a high example, we should avoid using the Lord as one.  That is what follows from the logic I have been hearing lately:  the only thing that will come from me trying to be like my Lord is self-doubt and feelings of unworthiness, so I shouldn’t even try.
            God must think otherwise.  He places high expectations in front of us, and He expects us to use them as goals, not ignore them because they are impossible.  Do you know why?  Because He gives us the tools to reach them.
            1 Pet 4:11—We serve by the “strength which God supplies,” not what we supply.
            Eph 3:20—His power “works in us;” His power, not ours.
            2 Tim 3:17—He equips us “for every good work;” not just the ones we find easy.
            God does expect a lot from us.  Here is the key:  stop picking at it like a sore.  Just do what is set before you every day, that much and no more.  If you have time to sit down and cry about it, you’re wasting one of the few precious commodities you can control, and that for only the moment.  Remember where your power comes from, and do not doubt it for an instant. 
            Will it be easy?  No—maybe that is another one of our problems.  We expect God to make it comfortable.  We expect it to be fun.  We expect it to never hurt.  We think if we have to sweat it isn’t fair.  God never promised any of that.  He did promise all the help we could possibly need.
            Here is where you find your sense of self-worth:  not in what you alone can do, but in recognizing that with a loving Father’s help, you can do more than you ever dreamed possible.
 
 And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work, 2 Corinthians 9:8.
 
Dene Ward

I don’t know where that sobriquet came from, but I think of it every time I read Matthew 6.
…Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? …Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all, Matt 6:25-32.
            Jesus is making a point we often miss in that passage.  “For the Gentiles seek after these things,” He says.  The pagan gods were notoriously capricious, vindictive, and malicious.  The whole idea was to appease them.  The best a Gentile could hope for was that the gods wouldn’t notice him at all.  If he kept his head down, minded his own business, and made the required sacrifices, maybe he could stumble his way through life without too much trouble.  Certainly no one expected those gods to actually care enough about him to provide his needs.
            Then Jesus reminds his disciples, “Your heavenly Father knows…”  Did you catch that?  Your God is not a capricious god; your God is your heavenly Father.  If He is your Father, of course He will take care of your needs.  Any time we worry—just like the Gentiles worried—we are insulting God, calling Him no better than those heathen gods who didn’t love their subjects, and certainly never thought of them as beloved children.
            What would your earthly father have thought if, as a child, you came home from school every day and wondered aloud if there would be any supper on the table that night?  How hurt would he have been if you didn’t trust him to love you and provide for you any better than that?  Why do we think God would feel differently?  Why would He not only be insulted, but angry, and wouldn’t it be understandable?
            We may not have everything we want.  Some of us will be more comfortable than others.  But God is your Father, a Father who is able far beyond any pagan god to care for His people, and not only that--He wants to.  Don’t insult Him, treating Him like nothing more than an idol, and a spiteful one at that, by worrying about the necessities of life.
 
 As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust, Psalm 103:13,14
 
Dene Ward

I learned as a child in the Florida school system that Juan Ponce de Leon was the first Spanish explorer to land here.  He had heard stories about a magical spring that could cure diseases and make you young again, so he began the search.  The land he finally set foot on somewhere near St. Augustine was so beautiful he called it Florida, "full of flowers".  Spring in Florida is beautiful.  I understand why he was impressed.  If he had landed in July, we would have had a much different name.  (What’s the Spanish word for “sauna?”)
            We do have a lot of natural springs in Florida—probably more than half a dozen within 30 miles of where I sit—but none with the magical powers he looked for.  I can find a Fountain of Youth quite easily, though.  I have it laid out right next to me as I type.  The eternal life promised to the faithful may be the most obvious application of that concept, but I can think of yet another.
            As I watch my grandsons play I find myself remembering my own childhood, realizing as an adult how unfettered it was by worry, pain, and sorrow.  I never for a moment wondered where my next meal was coming from.  I never worried about storms, not even hurricanes.  I never worried about bad people doing bad things to me.  I had a Daddy I trusted implicitly.  He would take care of me.  That’s what Daddies do.
            Once when I was still in early grade school, I had a bad dream.  My Daddy came in and sat on the bed next to me, asking me about the dream and then carefully undoing every worry it had evoked in me.  When he finished I could go back to sleep because of his reassurances.  That’s what Daddies do.
            One morning in first grade I was upset about something—I don’t even remember what now.  But my Daddy noticed that I had tears in my eyes when I got out of the car at school.  As I stood in front of my classroom, waiting for the bell to ring, I looked up and there he was, striding down the sidewalk.  He had parked the car and come looking for me to make sure I was all right.  That’s what Daddies do.
            Daddies provide.  They protect.  They comfort.  Do you want a Fountain of Youth?  Stop worrying about things you cannot fix.  Stop being afraid of things you cannot handle alone.  Stop wondering how you will manage.  Cast your cares on a Father who loves you.  Once again become a little child who has a Daddy who will always be there, always watching out for your needs and taking care of your problems.  If you don’t have that, it’s only because you insist on ignoring His outstretched hand.  You insist on trying to control everything yourself—as if you were the Daddy. 
            Do you begin your prayers, “Father in Heaven?”  Then act like He is your Father.  Trust Him.  Begin this day with a new exuberance, one born because you have surrendered your cares to Him and finally found the Fountain of Youth.
 
For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, "Abba! Father!" The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, Romans 8:14-16.
 
Dene Ward

One of the most challenging aspects of studio teaching is switching horses midstream.  Every forty-five minutes I not only had to rev up the excitement when greeting a new student, I had to change my perspective.
            I had one voice student who could scarcely carry a tune.   We spent a good deal of the lesson practicing matching pitches.  The next student was singing Italian art song and learning to trill.  One I applauded for simply getting through the song in key, the other I reprimanded for breathing in the middle of a word.  A five year old piano student would walk in with her eight bar tune, followed by a senior in high school working on a concerto.  One I praised for playing the right rhythm while only missing two notes.  The other I castigated for poor phrase shaping and improper execution of an appoggiatura.  It would have been unfair to expect a five year old to understand an appoggiatura when he didn’t even know key signatures yet.  It would have been cruel to try to teach a voice student with a challenged ear to trill.
            So I should not have been surprised at what I found in this study of faith that has consumed the past year of my life, but I was.  I wonder if it will surprise you too.  Every time Jesus said, “O ye of little faith,” he was talking to his disciples.  Sometimes other people heard it too, but if you check every account, he was addressing those who followed him daily—“ye of little faith.”  Yet the only times I could find people praised for their “great faith” they were Gentiles!
            That tells me a lot.  First, faith isn’t just a one-time first principle.  If even those who had enough faith to “leave all and follow” could be told their faith was “little,” then faith is something alive and growing.  Jesus expected it to carry them through their lives and become an asset to them, not a burden that might be “lost.” 
            Perhaps the most important thing we learn is something Jesus said in another context:  To whom much is given, of him much shall be required, Luke 12:48.  Those men had been with Jesus 24/7 for a year or more and he expected them to have matured.  I know a lot of people who like to claim they have “strong faith.”  Be careful when you do that.  God may just test your claim: “and from whom they entrusted much, they will demand the more.” 
            So examine your faith.  Is it growing?  Can you handle more adversity today than you did a decade ago?  God expects quick growth.  The people in the first century committed their lives to Him, knowing they might be thrown to the lions the next week.  I worry that too many of us commit our lives to Him expecting all of our problems to disappear in a week.  It’s supposed to be an instant fix to all earthly woes, instead of what He promised--an instant fix to our sins. 
            What exactly are you expecting of your relationship with God?  Some of us try to hold God hostage with our expectations.  “I have faith that God will…” and then we sit back confidently waiting for him to do our will, instead of waiting on His will. 
            Which would the Lord say to you:  “O ye of little faith,” or “I have not found so great faith, no not in Israel?”
 
But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. 1 Timothy 6:11-12.                                              
 
Dene Ward
 

     From what I remember about my parents' conversations, I lived in three places as an infant and toddler.  Then, due to Daddy's job, we lived in three more the next 12 years, all of which I remember, especially the last one, the home I left to be married.  But my parents moved after my first year of marriage, again due to Daddy's work, and I never had a "home" to go home to.
     Things were not much different after we married, at least not at first.  Our first home was a 10 x 50 trailer we bought used from another "preaching couple" at Florida College after that student got his four year certificate (it was a pre-degree FC) and moved on to his first fulltime preaching job.  It was tiny and either hot or cold, depending upon the weather.  One summer we turned off the AC while we were away for a weekend and came home to find our table candles, slumped over on the table, melted but still shaped like candles that had simply fallen asleep.  The particle board countertop had begun to swell around the kitchen sink, bits of the top layer of Formica flaking off to expose the damp particle board, and one morning I woke to mushrooms growing around the tap.  Keith replaced that countertop before we left, selling the trailer to yet another FC "preacher student."
     Our second home was a church house, a small shoebox of a house a couple of blocks from the meetinghouse in north central Illinois.  I saw snow for the first time and learned how to drive on ice pack to buy groceries.  Though the house was small, the third bedroom barely larger than a walk-in closet, the pantry was huge and one I have often wished to have again.  It also held the washer and dryer and water softener, but the shelves that went from waist to ceiling high on three walls were exactly what I later wished for when I had a growing family.  I also had my first experience with mice, surrounded as we were by cornfields.  But the backyard looked onto a drive-in theater, the screen of which faced our back door.  If we had had a speaker we could have seen a free movie every night.
     Our first child was born there and was only 11 weeks old when we moved to our third home, a nice brick house in the piedmont of South Carolina, only an hour from the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Keith had to buy it while I was back home with a newborn and so he did not see a few things that might have had me hesitating.  The kitchen was a long walk through the family room around a poorly placed wall (you wonder what some architects are thinking) to the dining area, and there was a huge, ugly ink spot on hallway carpet, a wall to wall so it could not easily be replaced.  We couldn't afford to do anything with the house so we just made do, and our second child was born there.  We have pictures of them both in the snow which is the only way they know it.
     Our next move came three years later to another church home, this one a brand new double wide next to the church and behind a cemetery in North Florida.  Brand new doublewides look pretty amazing until you have to do your first repair and discover that nothing is square and nothing standard will fit--you have to go to a Mobile Home Supply instead.  We had an "open house" one Sunday night after services because the church members had never seen this place and we thought it only fair that they got a look.  I kept snacks coming on the table, and the coffee pot burbling as they trooped through, all 100+ of them.
     The next move was only about forty miles northeast from there, still in North Florida which we came to realize was not like anywhere else in Florida—we actually had some winter.  We had moved so quickly that the only place we could find at first was a filthy old frame house in poor repair.  But it had a living room large enough for my studio grand piano and was the only place that did.  The church ladies helped us clean, one of them so grossed out that she took regular visits to a trash can to throw up.  The men made a moving caravan and we were moved in one day.  We had neither running water nor heat for the first week, which was also the first week of January.  I remember all of us sitting over breakfast with coats and hats on, our "breath fog" clouding the table.  Even with normal utilities, things were precarious.  Finally, after the transformer went bad and ruined our electric skillet, washer, vacuum cleaner, and television, we decided we needed better housing. 
     The only thing we could afford was another doublewide, and one of the men in the church allowed us to live on a piece of his property "for improvements" rather than rent, which included us paying for a well and septic tank, and tearing down and hauling off an old rundown frame house bit by bit. Four years later we moved our home across the county to the five acres we lived on for the next thirty-eight years.  That piece of land took our literal blood, sweat, and tears.  We had adventures and misadventures, fun times and harrowing times, most of which my longtime readers have read about.  We learned things we had never even suspected that we needed to know, and sometimes I am amazed that we lived through it all.  That was the closest thing we had to a "home." 
     Then we got old.  Keith could no longer work the property like he had before.  Work that had taken a Saturday in the early years, now took three days, and we no longer had live-in help—they grew up and left us!  We lived 40-45 minutes from town, depending upon where we had to go—which included all the doctors and church--and the trip itself was becoming tiring.  Neither of us see well at night and I can no longer drive at all.  Then my brilliant eye doctor retired and left me with one I am sure was smart, but was in his early thirties and inexperienced with someone like me.  Our time here below is becoming short and we needed to be near someone who could watch out for us, and I needed another world class doctor.  So now we are here in Tampa, Temple Terrace to be exact, in what we hope will be our last house—a real house, something I never even thought I would ever have again.
     So how do I feel about It?  When I look at old pictures of the place up north, especially when I see my boys playing on the tree swing, playing baseball in the field, climbing trees or standing at the "fort"—a group of huge old live oaks that made almost a complete room between their trunks—or see my grandsons in similar pictures with a grin on their faces as they discover what it might be like to live in the country, I get a pang deep in my heart.  But my better sense tells me that this is for the best and I still have memories to cherish.  After all, God told Abraham and Sarah to leave a home they had lived in for over twenty years longer than I lived up there.  It had to be hard—at least I knew where I was going while they did not.
     But they understood where their real home was.  These all died in faith without having received the promises, but they saw them from a distance, greeted them, and confessed that they were foreigners and temporary residents on the earth. Now those who say such things make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they were thinking about where they came from, they would have had an opportunity to return. But they now desire a better place — a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them (Heb 11:13-16).
    We must all be careful not to become too attached to this world.  Thinking of any place here as "home" can lead to temptations we can hardly bear.  Peter reminds us, And if you call on him as Father, who without respect of persons judges according to each man's work, pass the time of your sojourning in fear (1Pet 1:17).  Jacob called his life "a pilgrimage" (Gen 47:9), and Paul tells us our citizenship is in Heaven (Phil 3:20).  Don't get too attached, they all seem to be saying.
     "This world is not my home," we like to sing.  Are we telling the truth?
 
Hear my prayer, LORD, and listen to my cry for help; do not be silent at my tears. For I am a foreigner residing with You, a temporary resident like all my fathers. Turn Your angry gaze from me so that I may be cheered up before I die and am gone (Ps 39:12-13).

By faith Abraham, when he was called, obeyed to go out unto a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he became a sojourner in the land of promise, as in a land not his own, dwelling in tents, with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise: for he looked for the city which hath the foundations, whose builder and maker is God (Heb 11:8-10).
            I have heard it said, and even, I am afraid, thought that way myself at least a little bit, what was the big sacrifice Abraham and Sarah made when they left Ur?  They lived in ancient times with no modern conveniences, and in a primitive culture where things like architecture and the arts were not important at all.  There's that intellectual snobbery raising its ugly head.
            Go online.  Look in books like the Zondervan Bible Encyclopedia or the Holman Bible Atlas.  In the first place, the Sumerian culture was an alliance of city states of which Ur was just one.  Each had its own king who ruled the surrounding lands and villages.  A ziggarut sat at the city center with a shrine to the patron deity of the city.  And now you see one reason God wanted Abraham and Sarah out of there.
            In addition we have found in the tombs gold jewelry, daggers, helmets, and lyres—art and music did exist in that culture.  Among the many ruins archaeologists have found economic documents, medical treatises, law codes, agricultural manuals, a writing about a Great Flood, and philosophical writings.  They have found canals used for irrigating crops.  They have discovered that Ur had an educational system, some form of both hot and cold municipal running water, a sewer system, and paved roads.  So much for primitive, huh?
I also found a couple of artists' renditions of the typical upper class home—based on the ruins.  Have you ever been to the Columbia Restaurant in Tampa?  Go to www.opentable.com/Columbia-restaurant-ybor-city.  Look for the room with the fountain in the middle, with balconies overlooking a central room below, and that is similar to the picture of the house in Ur that I found.  Make no mistake, Abraham was a wealthy man.  This home could quite easily have been the one he left.  Now tell me it was no big deal for him to leave all that behind and live in tents for the rest of his life!  As an experienced camper, I know for certain that Sarah put up with sand in her sandals, in her blankets, and in her food!  They left a life of relative luxury to wander for decades in a hot, dirty land.
           Abraham and Sarah most certainly did sacrifice in order to follow God, even from the beginning, far more than most of us have ever been called to sacrifice, or maybe ever will.  Think hard today about your commitment to God and what you are willing to sacrifice for Him.  Even the best of us are far too materialistic and addicted to convenience and ease.  Perhaps we need a wake-up call.
 
These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things make it manifest that they are seeking after a country of their own. And if indeed they had been mindful of that country from which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed of them, to be called their God; for he hath prepared for them a city (Heb 11:13-16).
 
Dene Ward
 

The older I get, the more I appreciate the quiet men in the pews, the ones who seldom speak up, whose opinions are usually kept to themselves or to just the one or two who make it a point to speak with them more than the customary, “How are you today?”
          We, who suppose that we “judge righteous judgment,” are, like the Pharisees, just as bad as anyone else about the things we claim to detest, in this case, judging.  If a brother seldom speaks in Bible class, he didn’t study his lesson, right?  Or his heart isn’t in his worship.  If I stop at another congregation when I am out of town and the singing isn’t loud, and the prayers have a lot of common phrases in them, and the preaching isn’t dynamic, then they are the worst excuse for a church I’ve ever seen.  So much for “righteous judgment.”
            The more I study the scriptures, the more I see quiet people living lives that would be considered normal in their day and time.  I don’t mean they would not have been different in their words and actions than the godless pagan they might live next to—I mean great deeds and feats of faith and bravery were not their claim to fame.  They simply lived to and with their God every day, making choices based upon their belief in Him, talking about His promises in casual conversation, assuming as a given that their hope was not baseless.
            When was the last time any one of us had to choose between death and serving God?  I know some places where that may be the case, but no one in this country has faced that trial, and I am the first to thank God for that and pray that it continue.  Does that make me a sorry excuse for a Christian?  Maybe that’s why so many think they must raise a ruckus about everything—they have to show their “faith” in some sort of blatant manner, instead of being satisfied—and grateful—that they can live a life of steady devotion day after day after routine day.  Sometimes that quiet steadiness takes a lot more strength, and certainly more endurance, than one quick flash in the pan act of courage.
            So here’s to the ordinary Christian.  He loves his wife “as his own body,” serves her faithfully, even when the years have diminished her outward beauty and increased her outward girth. 
            He trains his children, not just about God, but about being a man.  He teaches them how to work, how to play, and how to survive in an unfriendly world.  He shows them patience and mercy, the traits His Heavenly Father showed him.
            He works for his employer “as unto the Lord,” giving the boss no need to worry about his stealing either the business’s supplies or time--a day’s work for a day’s pay, and the willingness to throw in some unremunerated extra time and effort simply because it’s needed.
            He sees to the good of his neighbors, offering a helping hand, the loan of equipment, the gift of sharing good things that have come his way.  He shows them the Lord he serves in the way he treats them.
            He handles the trials of life, not as if they make him special and deserving, but as if they happen to all, knowing he deserves even worse for his part in the sin that contaminated the world.  He never allows them to affect his faith in God or his desire to serve that God.  He simply keeps on going, like that famous bunny.
            And so he may not talk a lot.  He may not jump up and down and raise his hands high in the air.  He may not be caught shedding a tear during a song or a prayer.  But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t mean every word of what he sings or prays, or have deep feelings of love and gratitude, and shame on anyone who judges otherwise.  Jacob worshipped, leaning on his staff, we are told in Heb 11:21.  What?  No hallelujahs?  I wonder how some today might have judged that.
            In fact, a whole church full of such men might not rise to the ideal for some who need outward show to “get anything out of” the worship.  What makes them think they are better than another who can motivate himself with his own quiet, inward thoughts?  Isn’t it a good thing, that Someone Else is doing the judging? 
            As to that “ordinary Christian,” he isn’t really very ordinary at all.
 
…for man looks on the outward appearance, but Jehovah looks on the heart, 1 Sam 16:7.
 
Dene Ward