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

The first restaurant in the United States was opened on December 13, 1827.  Delmonico's was owned by Giovanni and Pietro Delmonico, and Delmonico's flourished for almost 100 years.  Originally a café, it became a full-fledged restaurant in 1830.
              Yes, there were older establishments going all the way back to the White Horse Tavern in Rhode Island.  But taverns focused on alcohol, and cafes on coffee, tea, and pastries, and that is exactly what the original Delmonico's Café served.  Meanwhile, in France, a tavern keeper named Boulanger began serving simple meals he called "restoratives," or in French, "restaurants."  The Delmonico brothers took their inspiration from him, buying the building next to their café and opening what they called a "restaurant francais," which eventually became one of the most famous restaurants in the country.  And yes, in case you are wondering, the Delmonico steak became the house cut between 1840 and 1850.  But back to that original café, or coffee house.  It reminds me of a little story.
            I put the cup of coffee down in front of Keith and he looked at it disdainfully.  “What are you?  A waitress?” 
              You see, I hadn’t filled it to the brim.  Since, just like a waitress, I had to carry it from the kitchen to the table, to have done so seemed impractical to me.  Despite another snide comment about “a half-full cup of coffee,” it was plenty full for carrying, about a half inch from the top.
              Everyone knows what happens when you fill something to the brim and then try to carry it—it sloshes out all over the place.  In fact, whenever Keith fills his own cup, I wind up wiping coffee rings off the table and counter, and splashes in the floor because he fills it to the top.  Filled to the brim is fine when you don’t plan on carrying it anywhere—for most things, anyway.
              …And they chose Stephen, a man full of faith…, Acts 6:5.
              Stephen is the perfect example of a man filled to the brim with faith.  It sloshed out all over everyone who came near him.  How can you tell?  Just look at Acts 6 and 7.
              Because of being full of faith, he was also “full of the Spirit and wisdom,” 6:3.  Notice:  this was before the apostles laid hands on him, 6:6, so we don’t have that excuse for a lack of wisdom and spirituality.  We can have those things too if we are filled to the brim with faith.
              Because Stephen was full of faith, no one could “withstand him” when he spoke, 6:10.  And how did he speak?  He knew the scriptures.  From start to finish, he told his listeners the history of Israel, 7:1-50.  Could we come even close?
              He was unafraid of confrontation, 7:51-53.  He never ran from opposition, even when it became clear he was in physical danger.  Discretion, according to Stephen, was cowardice, not valor.  We are often full of excuses for not speaking, instead of enough faith to speak out.
              Stephen was completely confident of his salvation, 7:59.  He knew the Lord was waiting to receive him.  He didn’t flinch from saying so, and certainly never hemmed and hawed around about “maybe going to Heaven if he was good.”  He kept himself so that there was never any question, and his faith was probably no more evident than in that one statement, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”  Can we make the same statement?
              His faith also showed by his forgiving others.  Just like the Lord he followed to death as the first Christian martyr, he asked Jesus to “lay not this sin to their charge,” 7:60.  The disciples recognized their own need and begged for more faith when Jesus told them they had to forgive over and over and over, (Luke 17:3-5).  Here is the proof they were correct—a man “full of faith” forgave his own murderers.  Can we even forgive the driver in the next lane?
              What are you spilling on people?  What completely fills your heart and mind every day?  Is it politics?  Is it the latest Hollywood gossip?  Is it the stock market?  Is it complaints about anything and everything?  Is it the weaknesses of your brethren, and any slight, imagined or real, they might have done to you? 
              Whatever we are full of will slosh out all over everyone who comes near us.  If we are full of faith, our lives will show it.  Don’t be a waitress when you fill your cup.
 
Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope, in the power of the Holy Spirit. And I myself also am persuaded of you, my brethren, that you yourselves are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, able also to admonish one another. Romans 15:13-14
 
Dene Ward

“It’s just for fun,” I keep hearing.  “I know it doesn’t mean anything.” 
              If it doesn’t mean anything, why am I wasting my time on it?  And since when does God ever countenance sin “just for fun?”
              Astrology, palm reading, psychics, mediums, “ghost whisperers”—God condemns every one of these things and all their cousins in His word.
              There shall not be found among you anyone who burns his son or his daughter as an offering, anyone who practices divination or tells fortunes or interprets omens, or a sorcerer or a charmer or a medium or a necromancer or one who inquires of the dead, for whoever does these things is an abomination to the LORD. And because of these abominations the LORD your God is driving them out before you. You shall be blameless before the LORD your God, for these nations, which you are about to dispossess, listen to fortune-tellers and to diviners. But as for you, the LORD your God has not allowed you to do this, Deut 18:10-14.  “God has not allowed you to do this.”  Isn’t that plain enough?  And if it isn’t, do you really want to be lumped in with people who sacrifice their children?
              “Do not turn to mediums or necromancers (people who claim to consult the dead}; do not seek them out, and so make yourselves unclean by them: I am the LORD your God, Lev 19:31.  It makes you unclean, unfit to serve God.
              And when they shall say unto you, Seek unto them that have familiar spirits and unto the wizards, that chirp and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their God? on behalf of the living should they seek unto the dead? Isa 8:19.  It doesn’t even make sense, God tells us. 
              But it does make sense to Satan.  If he can get you to listen to anyone besides God, he has made his first inroad into your heart.  And lest anyone say, “These are all Old Testament passages,” let’s remind him of Gal 5:20 where these things are lumped under the heading of sorcery and labelled “a work of the flesh.”
              And no, these condemnations are not only to those who actually practice these things as Ezekiel makes crystal clear:  And they shall bear their punishment—the punishment of the [false] prophet and the punishment of the inquirer shall be alike--Ezek 14:10.  You can’t play around with this stuff and not be considered guilty, even if all you do is ask them a question.  Even brand new Christians understood that in Acts 19:18-20, and at great financial loss burned their books of divination.  It was obvious to them, babes that they were, that these things were an abomination to God.
              So please, stop playing with fire.  Stop making excuses.  Don’t let yourself be so fascinated that you lose all sense of right and wrong.  God will not tolerate a little playing around.  To Him it is sin, plain and simple.
 
But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death, Rev 21:8.
 
Dene Ward

A young woman is making biscuits for her new husband.  When she tries to roll them out she has a problem—they keep falling apart.  It is all she can do to make them stick together long enough to get them on the baking sheet.  And when she tries to take them off, they fall to pieces.  Her husband tells her, “That’s all right.  It’s the taste that matters,” as he gallantly takes a bite, and a little bite is all he can get.  They crumble so easily he cannot even butter them.  Before long, his plate is filled with crumbs and he has not managed to eat even half a biscuit’s worth.
 
           The next morning she calls her mother. “Too much shortening,” her mother says.  So that evening the new bride tries again.  If shortening is the culprit, she reasons, maybe no shortening at all would be even better. 

            That night, as she slides the biscuits off into the basket, each lands with an ominous thud.  Her husband gamely takes a bite, or at least tries to.  They might as well be hockey pucks. 

            I imagine that even non-cooks can see the point here.  Each ingredient in the recipe makes a difference; each one is important and must not be left out—the shortening makes the biscuits tender, the flour gives them enough structure to hold together.  Why are we smart enough to see that here, but forget it when it comes to spiritual matters?

            One group says faith is the only thing we need.  Another says strict obedience is the only thing we need.  One of them bakes crumbs, the other hockey pucks. 

            Every generation reacts to the past generation’s errors by overcorrecting.  Each group is so afraid of making the same mistake that they make another one, and worse, usually sneer at their fathers for missing it so badly, thinking in their youthful arrogance that they have discovered something brand new.  What they have usually discovered is the same error another generation made long ago, the error their fathers tried to correct and overdid as well.

            Why is it so hard to stop that swinging pendulum in the middle?  Why do we arrogantly suppose that the last group did everything wrong and we are doing everything right. 

            Does God want faith?  Yes, the righteous shall live by his faith, Hab 2:4. 

            Does God want obedience?  Yes, to obey is better than sacrifice, 1 Sam 15:22.

            Does God want our hearts? He always has, and why can’t we put it all together?  Thanks be to God…that you became obedient from the heart, Rom 6:17.

            The Hebrew write equates disobedience with a lack of faith.  And to whom did he swear that they should not enter into his rest but to them who were disobedient?  And we see that they were not able to enter in due to unbelief, Heb 3:18,19.

            Can God make it any plainer?  He doesn’t want crumbs; He doesn’t want hockey pucks; He wants a nice tender biscuit of a heart that is firm enough to hold the shape of the pattern used to cut it.  Follow the recipe God gave you.  When you go about your day today, make sure you have all the ingredients.
 
Woe to you scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you tithe mint, anise, and cumin, and have left undone the weightier matters of the law.  But these [matters of the heart] you ought to have done, and not left the other [matters of strict obedience] undone, Matt 23:23.

Dene Ward

Every fall, usually in late September or early October, we make our first trip outdoors on a cool, clear evening to eat by the fire.  It is usually hot dogs and chips, but occasionally chili or soup or stew, or sometimes just a cup of cocoa and a few homemade shortbread cookies. 

Chloe knows the drill and as soon as she sees the wooden tray that Lucas made in high school shop class loaded with paper plates, plastic cups, and bags of chips, or maybe a tall stewpot and some bowls, or perhaps just a couple of steaming mugs, she follows close behind.  Does she beg?  No, she does not.  She sits a small distance from our lawn chairs by the fire and carefully watches.  Her eyes will follow the franks as Keith skewers them on the three foot long fork, or she will monitor me as I ladle out the steaming chili.  Whatever it is we have, she quietly sits and watches with eyes gleaming in the firelight. 

But as soon as she sees me load up the tray tables next to our chairs, she bounces up on all fours and her tail begins to wag.  After well over twelve years, she knows what is coming.  As I head back to the wooden tray one more time, she finally begins hopping a tiny bit back and forth on her front feet, and licks her chops.  "Good girl," I tell her.  "Here you go," and hand her a Busy Bone, usually the Chewnola variety, which we have learned over the years keeps her happy the longest.  Usually, we all three finish eating at the same time.

Because we have always given her a treat while we eat, she trusts us to do it again—every single time.  So she sits and waits patiently with a Biblically defined "hope"—assurance that what is promised will come.

God expects no less of us.  But before we get too far along in this, let me say this.  "Patience" in the Bible is not about being quiet and never complaining.  James talks about "the patience of Job" in 5:11.  If you have read Job, you understand that he did not take things quietly.  No, patience in the Bible is about endurance, steadfastness, never giving up no matter how difficult things may get.  Job certainly did that.  God expects that of us as well, in all sorts of situations.

He expects us to wait when people have been evil to us.  Do not say, “I will repay evil”; wait for the LORD, and he will deliver you.  Prov 20:22.  Teach me your way, O LORD, and lead me on a level path because of my enemies.  ​Give me not up to the will of my adversaries; for false witnesses have risen against me, and they breathe out violence.  I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living!  ​Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD! Psa 27:11-14

He expects us to wait when the evil are prospering and we are suffering.  Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act.  ​He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday.  Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices!  Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil.  ​For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land.  In just a little while, the wicked will be no more…Psa 37:5-10

He expects us to wait even when the world is reviling his name.  How long, O God, is the foe to scoff? Is the enemy to revile your name forever?  Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand? Take it from the fold of your garment and destroy them!  Yet God my King is from of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth.  Ps 74:10-12

He expects us to wait in the midst of trials and persecutions.    When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne  They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer…  Rev 6: 9-11

And why do we wait patiently—without giving up on God no matter what happens in our lives?  Because of all the promises he has kept in the past.  Because of a land and a nation that came into existence after more than four centuries.  Because of a Messiah who finally came after thousands of years to fulfill that very first promise:  I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”  Gen3:15  Even because of the care he has promised and given us on an everyday basis.

And now we wait for one final promise:  For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God…1Thess4:16

And so we wait, even more eagerly than Chloe waits, I hope, with even more assurance that the promise will indeed be kept.  After all, God has been so much more faithful to me than I have been to him.
 
  For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, “Surely I will bless you and multiply you.” And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise. For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, o that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul…Heb 6:13-19
 
Dene Ward

Many, many years ago we rented an old frame house with rollercoaster wooden floors, leaky, drafty, fifteen foot ceilings, and, unfortunately, a bad wiring system.  We did not know about the faulty wiring until one by one our appliances started going out.  One of the last was the television, an ancient, secondhand model.  When its replacement blew the minute we turned it on, and the next, which had worked fine in the store, did the same, things began to fall into place—the electric skillet, the vacuum cleaner, the washing machine, and the electric mixer all had died in the week or two before.  A friend came with a voltmeter and we discovered that we were getting 145 volts in the 110 outlets and 290 in the 220s. 
 
           A call to the electric company brought an inspection.  It wasn’t the old wiring after all; it was the transformer, which meant the electric company was at fault and paid for all the appliances, at depreciated value, of course, but at least we had a little help.  I’ll tell you this, though—never since then have I had a mixer that could whip egg whites in ten seconds flat.

            Sometimes I feel like I need a little extra voltage, don’t you?  Life has its difficult moments, and it seems the older you are and the less strength your body has to deal with it, the more difficulty it must withstand.  But spiritually speaking, that should not be the case.  Age means experience, which means wisdom, which means things are handled better and more easily, right?

            Lucas recently repeated something he had heard from someone somewhere.  “Sometimes the discretion of wisdom is just the result of being too tired to act.”  I identified with the thought immediately.  I wonder how many times I have been complimented for my restraint in handling things when the momentary lag of weariness just gave me enough time to think first, or maybe when it just plain overwhelmed me enough to keep me still and out of trouble.

            I feel sometimes like I need a spark, that extra voltage that made a stiff meringue faster than I ever had before.  We all tend to become complacent, to take for granted the spiritual blessings we have, even salvation.  It usually shows in our anemic zeal and ho-hum worship.

            And we get tired of the fight.  Yet again someone has belittled the Word of God, or taken His name in vain, or simply treated sin as normal and anyone who thinks otherwise as a bigoted fanatic.  After fighting for God for so many years, feeling like we are making no headway at all in a world dominated by sin, we just sit back and let it happen.  What good will it do anyway?

            You never know.  More than once I have spoken out alone, only to suddenly find several others standing next to me—people who were too fearful to speak until they heard someone else.  I have found out, many days after the fact, that when I stood for the truth, or acted like a Christian is supposed to act in the face of mistreatment, that it helped someone else do the same later on.  And many, many more times, I have been the fearful one who was helped simply by seeing a warrior for righteousness take on Satan and his minions single-handedly.

            So take some spiritual vitamins today.  Pray, read the scripture, meditate in your break time, call a brother or sister and revel in their love—that’s why they are there, that’s why God gave us each other.  Put a jolt of extra voltage in your spiritual life and don’t give in to weariness.  You do make a difference for the Lord.
 
You are righteous, O Jehovah, and upright are your judgments.  You have commanded your testimonies in righteousness and very faithfulness.  My zeal has consumed me because my adversaries have forgotten your word.  Your word is very pure, therefore shall your servant love it.  I am small and despised, yet I do not forget your precepts.  Your righteousness is an everlasting righteousness and your law is truth.  Psa. 119:137-142.     
 
Dene Ward

We made a mistake this summer.  We planted climbing roses at either end of a fifteen foot long trellis, and then planted morning glories along it as well.  To fill up the blank spot in the middle, we told ourselves.  But as the summer progressed those morning glory vines wound their way not only up the trellis but across to the new rose canes and completely covered them.  They shaded the leaves from the already filtered sun in that area of the yard and even hid the few blooms the roses managed to put out.

              Enough, we decided, and Keith clipped the smothering vines one morning.  They were wound so tightly, I had to wait for them to begin to wilt before I could remove them without damaging the rose vines.  Do you know what happened?  For five days those clipped and wilted vines put on new blooms and not just a few.

              Finally on the fifth day, I grabbed some heavy duty scissors and began cutting and carefully unwinding them.  After a half hour of cautious work and quite a few bloody thorn-pricks, nearly all the morning glories were lying in a pile along the bottom of the trellis and I discovered more rose vines than I ever imagined trailing along nearly the entire fifteen feet of trellis.  I gathered the morning glories in an armful and tossed them out in the brushy field.

              The next morning we came out to look at the roses.  New red leaves grew on nearly every end, with half a dozen new buds.  Finally we can breathe, they seemed to be screaming at us.  Then we walked over to the field and out there in the thick grass lay those dead morning glory vines—with brand new purple, blue, pink, and magenta blooms on them!  The next morning we saw more new morning glory blooms.  It had been a week since they were cut and they had lain in the sub-tropical summer sun without even any rain. Yet there they were, putting on new blooms still, even though their vines were wilted and brown. 

              By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he had witness borne to him that he was righteous, God bearing witness in respect of his gifts: and through it he being dead yet speaks, Heb 11:4.

              How many hundreds of names do we know from the pages of Scripture?  Though they are long dead, their examples still speak to us and help us along our path. 

              Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily besets us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Heb 12:1.

              That great cloud of witnesses continues to speak as we read about their lives, as we study them in Bible classes and hear them spoken of in sermons.  We give our children great Bible heroes to pattern their lives after, and well we should.  But what is true of them is true of us as well.

              After we are gone, our deeds will continue to speak, maybe not to as many as those in the pages of Scripture, but to everyone who knew us.  What will they see in the field after we are gone?  Will we leave nothing but a wilted vine, or will colorful blooms still dot the ground?  Will the deeds we do continue to inspire others, or will our useless lives stand as an example not to follow?  Will people talk about us with words of blessing or will others need to come along and undo the damage we left behind?

              Think about my morning glories today.  Someday your stem will be snipped, too.  What will be left behind for others to see?
 
Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good works, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity, and sound speech that cannot be condemned, so that an opponent may be put to shame, having nothing evil to say about us, Titus 2:7,8.
 
Dene Ward

Garden time always brings the best eating of the year: fresh green beans, corn on the cob (roasted in the oven, never boiled!), eggplant Parmagiana, squash casserole, fried okra, a big platter of sliced tomatoes, pesto, stuffed bell peppers, chiles rellenos with home-grown poblanos, and on and on and on.  Our first spring garden meal this year came in April. Maybe it was the change from heavier winter meals like chili and stews that made it so good, or maybe it was just good fresh vegetables.  Whatever it was, that panzanella really hit the spot.  And I made a salad into a whole meal with a couple cans of white albacore tuna.

               In the bottom of a big bowl, pour in a couple tablespoons each of olive oil and red wine vinegar.  Add a small handful of chopped fresh basil and parsley, 1 tsp of salt and a half teaspoon of black pepper.  Whisk it all together.  Now add about half a red onion sliced thinly and stir till the onion is coated.  While you finish the rest of the chopping, the onion will mellow out a bit in the acid.

              This next part can be changed up according to what you have available.  French bread is good.  Focaccia is good, and I usually have some leftover somewhere because it is so easy to make.  Cube 4 cups of some sort of hearty bread and put it into a 300 degree oven for at least ten minutes.  (If you want to be a little extravagant, drizzle it with olive oil and toss it with your hands before putting it in the oven.)  It does not need to brown, just dry out a little, and then it needs to cool while you do the rest of the chopping.

Now peel, halve lengthwise, seed, and slice enough cucumbers to make about 4 cups.  Throw that on top of the onion-dressing mixture, but don't mix it up yet.  Dice a large red pepper and throw that in.  Chop 3 or 4 tomatoes and add them.  Now drain the tuna and add it in chunks to the bowl, along with a two or three ounces of cubed feta cheese and a quarter cup of chopped Kalamata olives.  Toss the whole thing and let it sit a few minutes.  Between the tomatoes and the cucumbers, it should begin to exude a lot more liquid than you first put in there.  (Note:  the tuna is not an ordinary part of panzanella and you can leave it out if you wish.  I added it to make it more of a complete meal.)

Finally, add the cooled bread cubes and toss.  Yes, it will look like it's mostly bread, but it really isn't.  Once that bread starts to soak up the juices it will begin to shrink a bit.  Sit down and eat immediately.  The bread will be half soaked and half crunchy, which is perfect.  The more you eat, the more you will want to eat.  That first meal of this year's bounty was the best thing I had eaten in months.  Especially those bread cubes.

And now you are waiting for the spiritual lesson I somehow manage to find in the most mundane things, right?  Usually I can come up with something in a day or two, if not right away.  Well, I have been looking for it for over a month now and it still hasn't come to me.  I have made lessons out of everything from chicken and dumplings to cherry pies, from shedding dogs to dead possums, but for some reason this panzanella has evaded me.  But today I suddenly thought—maybe that's the lesson!

I am big on finding a purpose in your life that will help promote God's plan to save man.  If you have studied my Born of a Woman class book you know that.  My purpose in God's plan may be as simple as the Samaritan woman's, who ran and told her neighbors, Come see a man who told me all the things I ever did.  Can this be the Christ? (John 4:29).  Or it may be as complex as Joseph's, who over 20 years' time and the freewill actions of a couple dozen different people managed to be in a position to save God's chosen nation, and more specifically, the line of the Messiah.  …For God sent me before you to preserve life (Gen 45:5).  God does intervene in our lives through the freewill actions of others and in His great power and wisdom makes things happen according to His will.

Some of our purposes are fixed by the choices we make.  When I marry, I have the obligation to be a helper to my husband, helping him get to Heaven being the most important.  When I choose to have children, I have placed upon myself the divine purpose of raising those children "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."

But sometimes things just happen.  Sometimes it may even be a result of someone else's poor decision.  Like the man who decides he is not too drunk to drive and crashes into a minivan filled with a family of five, or runs down an innocent pedestrian.  My part in God's plan has suddenly changed if I survive that.  Now I have the opportunity to show His grace by the way I handle this adversity, by the way I refuse to give in to despondency, by the way I forgive, and a host of other things.

And this may be the hardest thing to accept:   sometimes there is absolutely no rhyme nor reason for any of it.  I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all. (Eccl 9:11).

I hear people giving comfort I am not sure they should give.  "God has a plan," we tell our distraught friends.  Yes, He does, but do not be so arrogant as to presume that you know exactly what it is or that this tragedy is even part of it.  As much as I believe that God will use what I do to further His plan, I would never decide for Him what that use should be.  I would never assume that my feeble mind can even begin to comprehend His glorious thoughts.  And I would never, ever tell someone who has experienced a calamity that this is God's Eternal Purpose at work.  The only thing I could ever be sure of is that this is my chance to comfort a soul, and I would do that the best I could.

It may be admirable to constantly try to find the spiritual benefit in every little thing that comes along.  In fact, I hope it is.  It is certainly better than thinking evil, or even idle thoughts all the time.  But sometimes panzanella is just panzanella.  Nothing more and nothing less.  Just a tasty salad that reminded me to thank God, not only for his great and marvelous plan to save us, but for the simple things that make this sin-cursed world a little easier to bear, too.
 
​Commit your work to the LORD, and your plans will be established.​  The LORD has made everything for its purpose, even the wicked for the day of trouble.  Everyone who is arrogant in heart is an abomination to the LORD; be assured, he will not go unpunished. (Prov 16:3-5)
 
Dene Ward
 

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