Stock markets began after the discovery of the New World, when countries began trading with each other.  In order to expand their businesses, the owners needed to call in investors so that they had a larger amount of money to use for growth.  These investors were given "shares" of the company.  The first company to issue paper shares was the Dutch East India Co in 1602.
              The practice grew and eventually reached England.  In 1773 in a London coffeehouse, a group of stock traders met and changed their name to the "stock exchange," and thus the London Stock Exchange was born.  This spread to the American colonies and the first American stock exchange began in Philadelphia.
              Today, Wall Street is synonymous with the stock exchange.  On May 17, 1792, the market on Wall Street opened with 24 supply brokers.  On March 8, 1817, they changed the name to the New York Stock and Exchange Board and the NYSE we know today began. 
              One of the rules of success in the stock market is patience.  Quick returns are great, but also dangerous.  If you want a stable investment, you plan for the long haul.  Most people with stock portfolios have a good mix of the risky and the safe.  If you want a consistent income, you go with the safe and plan to wait awhile.
              This blog is a long term investment.  It debuted August 2, 2012.  But even before that, I began writing devotionals that I sent to a small email list three times a week.  That first list contained 32 names.  Many times I have thought about quitting, especially when I looked at a blank screen and could not think of a thing to write, but knew I had to if this thing is going to stay alive.  “Why?” I think, especially since I rarely get feedback and sometimes wonder if anyone else cares whether I bruise my brain for a couple dozen hours a week anyway.
              My average pageview day runs 300-400, with an occasional spike of 2000+.  I have now passed over a million pageviews total.  But look back where I started—32 names.  It has taken many years of hard work, truly a long term investment.  I would never have made it this far if I had given up.
              Life is made up of long term investments.  Education, marriage, children, career, mortgages, as well as stock portfolios, and many other things take years to show any profit, any growth, any benefit.  In spite of our instant gratification society, most of us know this about life:  some things are worth the time and trouble and the long, long wait, and many of us manage to avoid quitting.
              Why do we forget that in our spiritual lives?  We become Christians and expect overnight that our problems will disappear, that our temptations will cease, and that our faith will move mountains.  Then reality sets in and instead of working on it, we give up.  We go to an older, knowledgeable Christian and ask for help in learning to study, but after two or maybe three weeks of making the time to meet and finding the time to do the studies he assigns, we quit.  It’s too tedious and we are too busy.  We thought there was some get-wise-quick formula.  It’s just the Bible after all, not rocket science.
              It’s perfectly normal to have bouts of discouragement.  David did:  How long O Lord?  Will you forget me forever?  Psalm 13:1.  Asaph did:  All in vain have I kept my heart clean and washed my hands in innocence.  73:13. I’ve tried and tried and gotten nothing for it!  Why bother?  And then they remind us to look ahead, because it is a long term problem with a long term solution.  In just a little while the wicked will be no more…you guide me with your counsel and afterward you will receive me into glory.  Psalm 37:10; 73:24.  Sometimes the wait seems long, especially when we are suffering, but faith will be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him 37:7.
              And if you are floundering a little, wondering perhaps if you will ever make it, if your faith will ever be strong, if you will ever be able to overcome temptation on a regular basis, give yourself a break.  This doesn’t happen overnight.  Are you better than you were last year?  Did you overcome TODAY?  That’s progress.  Keep working at it.  No one expects to lose 100 pounds in a week.  Some of us have way more than that to lose spiritually. 
              The reward is worth the waiting.  It is worth the struggle.  It is even worth the tedium of learning those difficult names and the exercise involved in buffeting our bodies.  But you won’t get there if you give up, if you say, “This is boring,” or “I’m too busy,” or “I can’t do it.” 
              I have many new friends because of something I started a long time ago during a difficult time of life.  I cannot imagine being without them now.  I certainly don’t want to be without the Lord.
 
For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised, Heb 10:36.
 
Dene Ward
 

We have two wild turkeys coming to the feeder these days, a brand new development.  We knew they were out there in the woods—you can here the toms gobbling and the hens clucking early in the morning and in the first hours of dusk.  Then last fall we saw four traipsing across our garden in the middle of the day.  A young visitor that day heard Keith and her father talking about “turkey season,” and I heard her whispering, “Run turkeys!  Run!”  And they did.
              Then in the middle of winter one morning I looked out and there stood a turkey hen under the south feeder pecking at the fallen birdseed.  She visited every day for awhile and eventually found her way around the house to the other two feeders.  Gradually she became used to us, and now we can go out on one side of the house without her leaving the opposite side at a “turkey trot.”  She will even let us move by the window inside, where she can see us clearly, without running away.
              Then one afternoon there she was again, only she looked a little different, didn’t she?  Maybe her neck was thicker we said, and then one of us moved in our chairs and she ran down the trellis bed and actually flew over the fence.  Turkeys do not like to fly, so she must have been terrified.  That’s when we put two and two together and realized we now had two turkeys, one with a thinner neck who has learned that we won’t bother her, and one with a thicker neck who still thinks we are some sort of predator out to get her.  Isn’t it odd that it’s the skinnier turkey that is the least frightened?
              That is an apt metaphor for the people of Israel.  They were the country with the skinniest neck, yet throughout their history they routed huge armies or saw them turned back by “circumstances.”  They watched God’s power work when no other country their size, nor even some larger, could withstand the enemy.  But despite that ongoing evidence, only a few learned to depend upon God, only a few saw the chariots of the Lord on the hilltops around them (2 Kings 6:12-18).  Only a few of them had faith and courage like this:
              And Asa cried to the LORD his God, “O LORD, there is none like you to help, between the mighty and the weak. Help us, O LORD our God, for we rely on you, 2 Chron 14:11.
              Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. They collapse and fall, but we rise and stand upright, Psa 20:7,8.
              Eventually there weren’t enough faithful to save them from destruction.  Eventually God had to remove the ones He thought had some potential and send the prophets to ready them for a return, but even then only a small remnant came back.  Many of them were still frightened turkeys, and they were well aware of how skinny their necks were.
              Learn the lesson those people didn’t.  God has given you evidence every day of your life that He is with you.  If you think otherwise, you just haven’t noticed.  Trials in your life are not an indication that He is not with you.  Paul told the Romans that “tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, or sword,” none of those could separate us from the love of Christ--not that they would never happen! 
              Be ready to stand against whatever army Satan throws at you, knowing that ​the chariots of God are twice ten thousand, thousands upon thousands; [and] the Lord is among them, Psa 68:17.                                                                                      
Dene Ward

You’d think they would learn.  You’d think they would figure this out, especially people who are so smart, with so many letters after their names they could start a new language.  Yet for a long time the existence of the Biblical Ur of the Chaldees, Abraham and Sarah’s hometown, was denied.  Several excavations were begun in the early twentieth century, but Sir Charles Leonard Woolley, a British archaeologist, finally put the question to rest.  From The Bible As History by Werner Keller: “Under the red slopes of Tell al Muqayyar lay a whole city…awakened from its long sleep after many thousand years…Woolley and his companions were beside themselves with joy…for before them lay the Ur of the Chaldees to which the Bible refers.”
            Where today sits a railway station 120 miles north of Basra, Woolley found many closely situated private homes along with their broken pots, cuneiform texts, and even some gold jewelry.  He found silver lyres and other musical instruments and even a royal game board, complete with “men” to travel the wooden board. 
            What he discovered, in essence, was the ancient Sumerian civilization,   He also discovered royal tombs dating from 2700 BC.  It became apparent to these scientists than these tombs also contained the king’s personal retinue, people buried alive in a form of large scale human sacrifice.  Is there any wonder God would have called his righteous servant away from that society?  And Joshua said to all the people, Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, Long ago, your fathers lived beyond the Euphrates, Terah, the father of Abraham and of Nahor; and they served other gods. Then I took your father Abraham from beyond the River and led him through all the land of Canaan, and made his offspring many, Josh 24:2,3.  And so the Bible once again is proven not only accurate, but logical.
            Woolley’s faith may not have been as fundamental as we would like--he discovered evidence of a great flood in the area but you and I would not have agreed with all of his conclusions in that regard.  However, he seemed to work like this:  the Bible says it existed so he went looking for it.  How many others deny the witness of the Scriptures until their noses are rubbed in it?
            Charles Woolley died on this day in 1960.  Perhaps we can use this as a reminder.  More and more the world considers the Bible as anything but the Word of God.  Instead, they say, it is a book of myths and interesting stories.  Jesus was not the Son of God either; he was just a good rabbi.  Maybe it is time we spoke out more.  Are we embarrassed to be seen as ignorant yokels because we believe the scriptures to be the authentic and infallible Word of an Almighty Creator?  Do we water down the truths revealed in it because they are no longer politically correct?  
            It was easy to believe when most of our neighbors did.  It was easy to say, “The Bible says…” when we knew that statement would carry some weight.  Despite the fact that over and over discoveries are made to prove the factual content of the Bible, people still find reason not to accept it.  They always will.  Just read the first few chapters of Exodus.  Just read the gospels.  When people do not want to accept the accountability demanded of us by the Bible, they will reject it.  They will find every excuse in the world to say, “That’s different,” when the only difference is it refers directly to their lifestyles and habits. 
            Say thank you today to Sir Charles Leonard Woolley, but only if you will use his discovery to cement your faith and allow it to change your will.
 
But when I speak with you, I will open your mouth, and you shall say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord GOD.’ He who will hear, let him hear; and he who will refuse to hear, let him refuse, for they are a rebellious house, Ezek 3:27.
 
Dene Ward
                       

Yes, there are more obvious things we simply read over in Psalm 23.  (Scroll down for part 1 if you missed it.)
              When do you usually hear a reading of the twenty-third psalm?  Funerals and deathbeds, right?  We have consigned this little gem to those two occasions, probably because of the translation, “the valley of the shadow of death.”  Yet, if we had simply done a little study—very little, in fact—instead of just accepting what we always hear and assuming it the beginning and end of the matter, we would have found many other uses for this psalm.
              “The valley of the shadow of death” is actually one Hebrew word--tsalmaveth—and it can mean “deep darkness.”  It is, in fact, translated that way in the modern versions.  Yes, in Job 38:17 it seems to refer to physical death, but in Jer 2:6 it refers to the wilderness wandering, certainly a dark era for the people of God.  In Jer 13:16 it refers to the coming destruction and captivity, perhaps their darkest period.  In Job 34:22 I am not certain what it refers to, but it certainly isn’t death.  This is important because all of us experience times of deep darkness in our lives.  To know that God is with us during those times too, not just at death, is a comfort beyond any other.
              And do notice this, God is the one leading us to and through this dark place.  In fact, coming immediately after “he leads me in paths of righteousness” (literally, “right paths”), this dark place is the right place for me to be.  It may be a severe trial, but for some reason I need to be there.  It is right for me to be there, and God will lead me “through” it.  He will not put me there and leave me there.  Even something as severe as losing a child, becoming disabled, or becoming terminally ill, is one He has led me to and through, accompanying me all the way. 
              But there may well be other kinds of dark places I must go through, and will realize He has been with me when I get out on the other side.  That is, if I have remained His faithful servant, trusting in His wisdom and care.  As long as He is with me, “I will fear no evil.”  It may be that His presence involves correction or discipline (His “rod and staff”), but I know that He loves me and this is the right place for me to be, and that even in this dark place, “goodness and mercy follows me,” that is, “pursues” me.  His goodness and mercy are on the hunt for me, even in the dark places--especially in the dark places.
              Don’t miss out on the gold in this little treasure chest just because you have heard it all your life.  Use it to help you navigate those dark places, with Him as your guiding star.  Trust Him, as this particular genre of psalms is called, the Psalms of Trust, or Psalms of Confidence--in God. 
              You can make it through the dark to a light beyond, which is also implied, for you can’t have a shadow without a light shining somewhere.
 
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to eat up my flesh, my adversaries and foes, it is they who stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war arise against me, yet I will be confident. One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple, Psalm 27:1-4.
 
Dene Ward

Back in my younger years I was a jogger.  If you missed the story, slip over to the right sidebar under “categories,” and click on “Country Life.”  Scroll down to “One Fencepost at a Time”—even farther back than “Backwards One Fencepost at a Time”—and you can read about it with its own lesson of encouragement.
            When I finally progressed to jogging on the highway instead of the cow pasture (explained in that previous post), the first time I took nearly twice as long as I should have to jog the same distance.  Ordinarily, jogging on a firm surface is easier because your feet push off and the momentum is with you instead of all sinking down into the dirt, sand, mud, or grass of the softer surfaces.  That was not what slowed me down.  What kept distracting me were the things I had passed every day for three years and never seen before.
            In a car, you usually see the road, the signs, and possible problems—other cars, animals both domesticated and wild, pedestrians, potholes, discarded bottles, trash bags that fell off other vehicles, boards that might have nails in them, pieces of blown tires.  You must look for those things if you want to avoid an accident. 
            But that morning as I jogged slowly by I found out for the first time that a tiny creek ran through a four foot diameter culvert under the road just past the neighbor by the woods.  I discovered a path through those same woods that led to a ramshackle cabin a hundred feet off the road, nearly hidden by the ramrod straight pines.  I discovered that another neighbor had a second driveway, much smaller, that led to a shed behind the house.  Then as I approached the bridge over the New River, I found a path snaking off to its side, probably used by fishermen looking for bait, or kids swimming in the shallows.  All those things had been there the whole time I had, but it was as if I had discovered a brand new place.
            That is exactly how I felt after our ladies’ class studied Psalm 23.  I almost skipped that one—everyone knows it.  We all memorized it as children.  If there is a Bible passage in a movie, it is apt to be that one.  Why should we include that in what I hoped to be a study of brand new material for most of us?  Because it was brand new material, too.  I had gotten out of the speeding vehicle passing through it, and had jogged at a slower pace, seeing the details for the first time.  We are going to talk about what I found this time and next.
            Psalm 23 is classified as a Psalm of Trust.  I doubt that David, Ethan, Asaph, Solomon, Heman, the sons of Korah, Moses, or any other of the writers of the psalms actually made a decision to write a particular type of psalm and then followed some carefully laid out pattern.  No, the elements and patterns have been analyzed by scholars thousands of years removed from them, but it is interesting that they do follow something of a pattern.  For instance, Psalms of Trust (some call them Psalms of Confidence [in God]) tend to view God in metaphorical terms.  He is variously called a shield, a fortress, a rock, a shelter, a master [of slaves], and in this familiar psalm a shepherd.
            But here is the part I always missed—the metaphor in these psalms is apt to change abruptly, as it does here in verse 5.  Suddenly God is depicted as a host.  Some of the older commentators do not want to see this change, but please tell me, when was the last time you saw a sheep eating at a table or drinking out of a cup?  No, the shepherd feeds the sheep in verse 2: he makes me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters.  Sheep eat grass and drink water, and the shepherd has fed them exactly what they want and need.  Now it is the host’s turn to feed his friend in a brand new metaphor.
            And notice this, the host in verses 5 and 6 is not just an acquaintance fulfilling the obligations of hospitality in the Eastern tradition.  He is a close friend.  He takes you into his house not just for a meal but to “dwell forever.”  Indeed the Hebrew word for “house” often implies “household.”  That last verse could easily and correctly be translated “and I will remain in the family of the Lord forever.”  We’re not talking about being a pet sheep in the family, but a human member of the family, someone who eats at the table with the rest of the family, the truest sign of acceptance in that culture.
            See what you miss when you just breeze through an old familiar passage without a second thought?  You need to get out of the car and walk through it, paying attention to every detail and thinking about every nuance.  That’s how you learn new things.  And this new thing is nothing compared to the one I will show you tomorrow.
 
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, Eph 2:19.
 
Dene Ward

Another checkup, another new disorder.  I did not realize there were so many things that could go wrong with an eyeball.  Remember freshman biology in high school?  The model of the eye sat up on its white plastic pedestal stand, and you could lift off the layers and see the various parts of the eye:  the cornea, the pupil, the iris, and the retina.  You might see the optic nerve running off from the back, and if you had a particularly diligent teacher you might hear the words sclera (eyeball skin) and vitreous humor (eyeball fluid), but that was it.  That is what we were all taught an eyeball was made up of.  Let me tell you, that is not even half of it!
              My knowledge has come a long way in the past 17 years, but once again I have learned something new, something else that can go wrong.  I won't trouble you with the four word disorder or describe it.  Here is the frightening thing:  within five years I could need a cornea transplant to save the eye.  HOWEVER, in all caps, italicized, and underlined, the so-called easy cure is not for me.  All these other problems I have make me a horrible candidate for that surgery—unless there is just no other choice.  And should that be the case, the complications may very well cost me the eye.
              My vision may now have a real, concrete time limit.  So what do I do in the meantime?  Of course I pray.  That is obvious.  I have already had one timely "coincidence" save my vision for a while longer.  God can certainly make that happen again.  But in the words of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, "Even if he doesn't…" how shall I prepare myself for the days of darkness ahead of me?
              Instead of making this a totally self-absorbed post, let's consider your days of darkness, too, because it does not have to be blindness we are talking about here.  What is troubling you?  What lies ahead in your life that either might come or definitely will come, all things being equal?  What should any of us do to prepare for those frightening times?
              Let us fill our minds with the good.  Are you reading his Word on a daily basis, not just a minimal chapter a day, but a good hour of real study time?  Are you spending time with brothers and sisters in worship, in study together, in encouragement and exhortation?  Have you ever taken advantage of the extra studies that take place during the week, both at the building and in homes?
              Do you follow the admonition of Paul?  Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. The things which ye both learned and received and heard and saw in me, these things do: and the God of peace shall be with you. (Phil 4:8-9)
             Or do you spend more time on Facebook, surfing the web, playing video games, watching mindless or, worse, worldly entertainment, or any number of other time-wasters that are using up the precious time you have left?  How are you preparing for the moment when all you will have due to a disability or an illness or other circumstance is what you have stored in your heart?
              The days of darkness will come, sooner or later, for all of us.  What will see you through it?
 
For it is you who light my lamp; the LORD my God lightens my darkness. (Ps 18:28).
 
Dene Ward

Don't ever think that a seven year old doesn't listen to the conversation around him.
              Judah probably heard it several times, the story of his great-grandfather's death, when his great-grandmother—Gran-gran—sat next to the bed and told her beloved just before he passed to wait for her at the gate.  He heard it again at her funeral just before we sang "When All of God's Singers Get Home," when his uncle said, "I can imagine them walking through that gate hand-in-hand, two of God's singers just got home."
              That was two days before Thanksgiving, and a few days later he told his parents that he wanted to add something to his prayer list:  that Gran-gran could find her husband in Heaven.  He had never known "her husband," who passed almost exactly a year before Judah was born.  Evidently he had imagined the scene and wondered how they could possibly find each other in the crowd and he didn't want Gran-gran to be lonely.  His daddy assured him that they had probably already found each other and were together again. 
              He continued asking questions about the man he never knew, so when he came for Christmas I asked if he would like to see some pictures.  We had just gone through my mother's things and I had several at hand, from the seventeen year old high school graduate to the twenty-five year old Army draftee in Korea to the sixty-five year old gray-headed retiree, many with his sweetheart from high school days, Judah's Gran-gran.  I told him that we all called him Papa because that is what I had called my grandfather too.  By the end of the session, he could point to even a picture from the 1950s and say, "There is Papa."  Gran-gran's husband had become a real person to him, someone he was related to.
              I was thinking about the preciousness of all of this when it suddenly occurred to me that I knew people who would have tsk-tsked me for telling my seven year old grandson that his great-grandparents were back together in Heaven.  They would have pointed to stories in the Bible to prove that is not what life after death actually is—at least not yet.  In fact, I can think of a few who would have accused me of lying to the child.
              I recall at least three Biblical depictions of life after death.  Each is different, and every one of them involve some sort of figurative language.  Who are we to say that one or the other is the true and literal picture?  God gave us those images to comfort us.  Each has a point that makes us less afraid of death and more confident in our own destiny.  As a parent or grandparent, God expects me to give my own children images they can relate to just as He did for His children.  It isn't lying to talk about "waiting at the gate" any more than it is for God to tell us about streets of gold and pearly gates or for Jesus to say, "I am the good shepherd," when he was actually a carpenter.  I am simply following my heavenly Father's example in comforting my children.
              Like the Pharisees, somewhere along the way we have missed the point of it all.  We have, as Jesus cautioned, "strained out the gnats and swallowed the camel," Matt 23:24.  We have forgotten how patient Jesus was with the weak and the babes:  "a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory; (Matt 12:20).  Instead we go plowing through the shrubbery heedless of anything but making our point and "being correct," when the whole point of figurative language is not to be literal at all.
              A seven year old child is now comforted.  As he matures in the Word he will come to know that what he was told was an image to help him understand and make him feel better.  He will know that no, it probably was not exactly that way—those gates are figurative after all.  But he will have learned the point in a way he will never forget:  that God loves His children and plans to live with them forever, and that his great-grandparents are among those children.  And, even better, he can be with them again one day.
 
But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to stumble, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea.  (Matt 18:6).
 
Dene Ward

On our recent camping trip we had a lot of wildlife for company.  Yet it was neither frightening nor bothersome.  The only animal we saw besides the usual birds and squirrels that lived in the campground itself was a young raccoon who moseyed up to the woodpile, so interested in the spot where Keith had slung some cold coffee that he didn’t see us until about the same time we saw him.  All of us were startled and he fled for cover.  Yet I am positive we had much more company out in the woods.
            If I did not see them, how do I know?  Because as we hiked the park’s fifteen miles of trails over the next four days, we saw their tracks: the cloven hoof prints of many deer, the tiny handprints of other raccoons, the small padded paws of bobcats, and the deep, heavy prints of wild boars, along with places they had torn up the ground rooting and wallowing.  There were not just a few of these tracks either.  We saw far more animal tracks than people tracks on our daily hikes.
            I bet you believe me now, don’t you?  Yet God’s fingerprints are all over this world of ours and it seems that every year fewer people believe in Him.  They might as well believe that animals don’t exist in the forest; it would make about as much sense. 
            But people have been behaving this way for thousands of years. I am reminded of Moses performing his signs before Pharaoh.  The Egyptian ruler did not want to believe in Jehovah as the one true God.  He had his many magicians replicate Moses’ signs with their tricks.  Finally though, they reached a point where they could not do so. 
            “This,” they said to Pharaoh, “is the finger of God.”
            Would that men would be so honest today.
 
For the invisible things of Him since the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even His everlasting power and divinity; that they may without excuse, because that knowing God, they glorified Him not as God, neither gave thanks, but became vain in their reasonings and their senseless heart was darkened.  Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God for the likeness of an image of corruptible man, and of birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things.  Wherefore God gave them up…Rom 1:20-24.
 
Dene Ward

You will find dates from 1793 to 1796 for its opening, but evidently this one is on record and cannot be denied.  The property for the City Hotel in New York City was bought on January 24, 1793.  It was the first building built to be a hotel in America.  At 73 rooms it was huge for the time, but then New York City already boasted a population of 30,000.  It was also the first building in the city with a slate roof.  Hotels have come a long way—some of them anyway.
About fifteen years ago, a music teacher friend and I attended a state level vocal competition in a small Florida town.  She was the state treasurer, the one who handed out checks to judges and scholarship winners.  I was the accompanist for two of the entrants.  When we tried to make our reservations, the one hotel in town, an old Southern relic complete with ceiling fans and rockers on a wood-planked front porch, was booked solid and had been for months.  Our only choice was the motel up by the interstate.  We did not expect much, given the name on the sign and the price, so we weren’t surprised when we quickly stopped by to deposit our bags and saw the size of the room in the gloom.  We had no time to inspect the premises or even turn on a light or open the shades.  We just dumped our bags and drove on to the competition.
              When we returned about ten o’clock that night, we almost left our things and fled, but there was no place to run to.  The parking lot had been empty at 5 pm, but now it was full of souped-up, high rise, four wheel drive pickups, their fenders caked with streaks of mud and their windows with dust.  Evidently their owners also found their rooms cramped, because it seemed like all of them were standing outside, laughing uproariously at one another’s jokes and adding to their flannel-clad beer bellies by the six pack, several of which they tossed around. 
              We actually had to pull in between two of those trucks, and all talking ceased as we left our car.  I have never been so thrilled with my regular accompanist’s attire—a plain, black, mid-calf dress with a high neck and long sleeves.  My friend wore a dressy business suit, and we were both on the wrong side of forty, so they let us pass without a word.  When we got inside, we locked the door, put a chair under the knob, and pinned those still closed draperies overlapped and shut. 
              Then we saw our room in the light for the first time.  You could barely get between the outside edge of each bed and its neighboring wall.  The rod for our hanging clothes was loose on one end, and couldn’t support the weight of even my one dress, much less it and her suit.  The soap was half the size of the usual motel sliver, and the bath towels more like hand towels.  The pipes rattled, the tub sported a rust streak the color and width of a lock of Lucy’s hair, and the carpet had so many stains it looked like a planned pattern.
              After we managed to shower in the tepid, anemic stream of water, we pulled down the sheets and my friend moaned, “Oh no.”  With some trepidation I approached her bed in my nightgown and heels—neither of us wanted to go barefoot and they were all I had—and there lying on her pillow was a long black hair.  Her hair was short and very blond, she being a Minnesotan by birth with a strong streak of Norse in her veins.  “Please tell me the maid lost this hair when she was putting on clean—very clean—sheets.”
              “Okay,” I muttered.  “The maid lost that hair when she was putting on clean—ultra clean and highly bleached—sheets.”
              When we got to bed, it wasn’t to sleep.  Not with the noise going on in the parking lot just outside our door or in the neighboring rooms.  The walls seemed as thin as tent walls.  We rose in the morning bleary-eyed and ready to leave as quickly as possible.  This place offered no “free breakfast” and we would not have eaten it if it had.  We promised one another that if we ever had to come back and couldn’t get a room in town, we would stay anywhere else, even if it meant a fifty mile drive, one way. 
              It was a horrible experience, but some of us offer one just like it to the Lord.
              For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, Eph 3:14-17.
              According to Paul, it takes effort to allow Christ to dwell in our hearts, enough that he prayed for them to have the strength to allow it.  Are you allowing it?  And if you are, what sort of accommodations are you offering him? 
              Making a welcoming environment for him may not happen overnight, especially if we are dealing with deep-seated habits or even addictions of one sort or another.  He understands that, but we must constantly be adjusting our behavior to suit him, not ourselves, putting his desires ahead of our own, becoming, in fact, a completely different person altogether.  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 5:17.
              But this isn’t just a problem for new Christians.  I have seen older Christians act as if Christ is nowhere nearby, much less dwelling in their hearts.  Their language, their fits of pique, their dress, their choice of entertainment, and the complete lack of spiritual nourishment they partake of starved him and ran him off a long time ago, and they don’t even seem to realize it.  What?  Do you really think he will stay in a flophouse instead of the four star hotel you should have offered him?
              What it all boils down to is a failure to live like we have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me, Gal 2:20.  Did you see that?  Allowing him to dwell in you (Eph 3:17) and living a new crucified life both happen “by faith.”  Even if you have been claiming to be a Christian for decades, if you are not living up to it, you do not have the faith required.  It doesn’t matter how many times you were dipped into a baptistery if nothing about you changed, or if you have gone back to that old way of life.
              What sort of room are you offering the Lord?  He spent a lot for it, and he will walk out if you don’t live up to the name on your sign—Christian.
 
Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the test! 2 Cor 13:5.
 
Dene Ward

I just made a chocolate mousse cake.  This is one of THOSE recipes—you know, one of those trendy kinds you find in upscale restaurants, the kind that come with a chocolate or raspberry swirl on the white china plate, a piped dollop of whipped cream on the side and maybe even a shard of caramel “glass” sticking up out of it.  This recipe is bound to get me oohs and aahs at the table from excited guests who suddenly think I must be a gourmet cook.  And that’s when I start feeling guilty.  Why?  Because this conglomeration of bittersweet chocolate, butter, eggs, brown sugar, and vanilla took me exactly 15 minutes to put together and throw in the oven.  The only thing hard about it is waiting 8 hours for it to chill so it won’t fall completely apart when you try to cut it.
              I don’t deserve any oohs and aahs and it certainly wasn’t hard to do.  I will grant you that it tastes amazing—but look at that ingredient list above and tell me how it could not.  I have absolutely nothing to do with how it tastes unless I buy cheap ingredients—like Hershey bars and margarine.  Taking a bow for producing this cake is like claiming a cordon bleu culinary education when all you’ve had is watching your mother and grandmother and reading a few cookbooks.
              Have you ever had a friend ask you how you do it?  How you go through some of the trials you have been through, yet live a happy and contented life, in fact, a life of joy and faith?    What do you instantly say?  Do you claim huge inner strength and unimpeachable character?  Do you talk about your spiritual integrity?  Of course not.  You tell them that you had nothing to do with it except having the sense, or maybe the desperation, to take your Heavenly Father’s offer and let Him handle things.
              And it was just that simple, wasn’t it?  No, not really.  A lot of time passed before it really “took,” before you really could face your demons with assurance instead of doubt, before you could race toward that “way of escape” instead of stumbling through it, before you could sit back and let God be in control and accept His will instead of trying to figure things out so you could understand them.  And sometimes you still don't quite manage.
              It takes a long time to say those words Abraham said on that mountaintop 4000 years ago--God is able; God will provide.  But once you have reached that point, it’s just that simple.  Every time life hands you the inexplicable, you don’t try to understand, you just count on God to handle it.  How can anyone take the credit for that?
 
Both riches and honor come from you, and you rule over all. In your hand are power and might, and in your hand it is to make great and to give strength to all. And now we thank you, our God, and praise your glorious name, 1Chr 29:12-13

Dene Ward