On October 17, 1963 the Beatles recorded "I Want to Hold Your Hand," the first of their songs to catch on in America.  "Love Me Do" and "She Loves You" had already been released and, though hits in England, flopped in this country.  This one not only caught on, it became #1 on the charts.  It is still the best selling Beatles single in America. 

              It may have been a romantic gesture in the song, but holding hands means much more than that.  Every time we pray in our assembly of saints, two hands instantly reach for mine and hold them until the amens echo around the building.
 
             The hand on my right is my husband’s.  After spending over forty-five years together, it seems only natural.  We are always touching, patting, and hugging.  To walk past one another without some sort of physical contact is unthinkable.  What has made this relationship even more remarkable though, is the spiritual sharing and touching.  When two people pray for the same things, hope for the same things, and endure the same things with the help of the same Comforter, two people who were so unalike in the beginning that several people tried to talk us out of this marriage, the closeness can only be with the help of the Divine Creator who united us in far more than holy matrimony.

              The other hand belongs to a friend, someone I have known for several years now, who has supported me in every way imaginable, who has stood by me and has lifted my name up in prayer, who has shared her own trials with me and allowed me to help her as well, someone who lives nearly fifty miles from me, whom I would never have known except that we share the same Savior and the same hope and a place in the same spiritual family.

              Some people view holding hands in prayer as nothing more than an outward show of emotionalism.  To me those hands signify the unifying power of the grace of God.  That unity began with 12 men who would never have come together in any other way, and soon spread to add one more.  Some were urbane city dwellers who looked down on lowly Galileans.  Some were working class men while another was a highly educated Pharisee.  Some had Hebrew/Aramaic names while others’ names bore the influence of Hellenism.  One was a Zealot and another his political enemy, a tax collector.  Yet the Lord brought them all together in a unity that conquered the world.

              I have held black hands, brown hands and white hands.  I have held plump soft hands and rough calloused hands.  I have held the tender hands of the young and the withered hands of the old.  I have held the hands of lawyers and doctors and plumbers and farmers, teachers and nurses and secretaries and homemakers, hands that hammer nails and hands that type on computer keyboards, hands that cook and sew and even hands that carry a weapon on the job.  We all have this in common—our Lord saved us when none of us deserved it.  That is His unifying power. 

              The hand of God is the one that makes all of our hands worth holding.
 
May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. Romans 15:5-7
 
Dene Ward

The first time he said it I was confused.  The second time I was a little miffed. 

              “We’re going home,” Keith told someone of our upcoming visit to his parents’ house in Arkansas, early in our marriage.

              Home?  Home was where I was, where we lived together, not someplace 1100 miles away.

              I suppose I didn’t understand because I didn’t have that sense of home.  We moved a few times when I was a child, and then my parents moved more after I married.  I never use that phrase “back home” of any place but where I live at the moment.  But a lot of people do.  I hear them talk about it often, going “back home” to reunions and homecomings, visiting the places they grew up and knew from before they could remember.

              But what was it the American author Thomas Wolfe said?  “You can’t go home again.”  Wolfe died on September 15, 1938.  His book of that title was published posthumously on September 28, 1940, and those words have come to mean that you cannot relive childhood memories.  Things are constantly changing and you will always be disappointed.

              Abraham and Sarah and the other early patriarchs did not believe that. 

              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. Hebrews 11:13-14.

              That phrase “country of their own” is the Greek word for “Fatherland” or “homeland” or “native country.”  Those people believed they were headed home in the same sense that Keith talked about going back to the Ozarks.  Some question whether the people of the Old Testament believed in life after death.  They not only believed they were going to live in that promised country after death, they believed they had come from there—that it was where they belonged.

              That may be our biggest problem.  We do not understand that we belong in Heaven, that God sent us from there and wants us back, that it is the Home we are longing for, the only place that will satisfy us.  We are too happy here, too prosperous in this life, too secure on this earth. 

              Try asking someone if they want to go to Heaven.  “Of course,” they will say.  Then ask if they would like to go now and see the difference in their response.  It is good that we have attachments here, and a sense of duty to those people.  It is not good when we see those attachments as far better than returning to our homeland and our Father and Brother.  Paul said, For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. But if to live in the flesh, - if this shall bring fruit from my work, then what I shall choose I know not. But I am in a strait between the two, having the desire to depart and be with Christ; for it is very far better: yet to abide in the flesh is more needful for your sake. Philippians 1:21-24.   Paul knew the better choice.  Staying here for the Philippians’ sake was a sacrifice to him, a necessary evil.

              Heaven isn’t supposed to be like an all-expenses-paid vacation away from home—it’s supposed to be Home—the only Home that matters.

              How do you view Heaven?  The way you see it may just make the difference in how easy or difficult it is for you to get there.
 
Being therefore always of good courage, and knowing that, while we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord (for we walk by faith, not by sight); we are of good courage, I say, and are willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be at home with the Lord, 2 Corinthians 5:6-8.
 
Dene Ward

I can’t really believe it.  I was going through all those painful physical therapy exercises you have to do to keep moving when you have injuries or surgeries, and to keep my mind off the pain and the endless repetitions, I flipped on a channel that runs only old shows, about the only kind I can stand to watch any longer.  On a defunct old program I suddenly heard something profound enough to catch my attention.  A character was complaining about his life and how bad he felt.  Another character looked at him and said, “If you want to feel better, take a pill.  If you want to BE better, face the truth about yourself.”
That old show was the original Perry Mason, which debuted on CBS on September 21, 1957 and ran until May 22, 1966.  It was television's first weekly one hour drama.  Based on Erle Stanley Gardner's books, it was every bit the hit they were, collecting a Golden Globe and at least 4 Emmys, along with a Silver Gavel Award from the American Bar Association.  I remember hearing that stirring music as my parents watched the show from the warmth of my bed as a very small child.  I was an adult before I ever saw an episode or read one of the books.

              As for that line of dialogue, it was spoken by Raymond Burr as he portrayed the eminent lawyer. I stopped mid-rep, losing count completely.  What was that I had heard?  I repeated it to myself at least three times so I wouldn’t forget it—maybe—and it was weighty enough a thought that it did stay with me until I could write it down.  “This one I must use sometime,” I thought, and then suddenly realized that God has been using it for millennia, sort of.

              “Face the truth about yourself,” we say.  He says:

              Be not wise in your own eyes…Prov 3:7.

              There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death, Prov 16:25.

              Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the heart, Prov 21:2.

              There are those who are clean in their own eyes but are not washed of their filth, Prov 30:12.

              He feeds on ashes, his deluded mind deceives him, he cannot rescue himself,,,Isa 44:20.

              Let no one deceive himself.  If anyone among you thinks he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise, 1 Cor 3:18.

              For if anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself, Gal 6:3.

              If anyone thinks he is religious but does not bridle his tongue and deceives his heart, this person’s religion is worthless, James 1:26.

              Your head should be spinning by now.  How many times have I deceived myself into ignoring rebukes and shunning well-intentioned advice?  And then, when it all falls apart and I am left hurt and weeping, did I ever once stop and think over that advice and those rebukes again and think maybe—just maybe—I should have listened?  Maybe—just maybe—I am not as astute as I seem to think I am.  Oh, I say the right words (“I am not perfect”), but when the fruit reveals itself in my actions, everyone knows I cannot be reasoned with because “My case is different.”  So many people think themselves the exception to the rule that you wonder why God bothered to write a guidebook for us—it doesn’t apply to anyone! 

              A rebuke should make me stop and consider, not stomp and smolder.  Yes, that is still difficult.  I am not sure it ever becomes easy.  But those scriptures up there say that if I do not consider, the vengeance I wreak with my answering anger to the one who cared enough to try, will only destroy me.

              “If you want to feel better, take a pill.  If you want to BE better, face the truth about yourself.”
 
But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing. Jas 1:22-25
 
Dene Ward

When Keith was still an “apprentice preacher” under the tutelage of some local elders, one Sunday he ventured into an interpretation of a passage that he knew was not the standard.  As he talked he noticed one of the elders grimacing constantly, and he knew he was in trouble.               
 
             As he tentatively approached that man after services and asked what the problem was, he was startled to hear him ask, “What do you mean?’  When Keith explained the reaction he saw, the brother laughed and said, “Oh that.  I was just having some indigestion.” He added that he thought the interpretation was sound.  What a relief!

              Despite that little misunderstanding, the Bible talks a lot about body language and what it means. 

              But first, a little history.  What we call "body language" is technically known as "kinesics," which is defined as the study of the way body movements and gestures can serve as nonverbal communication.  The term was originated by Dr. Ray Birdwhistell in 1952, who estimated that no more than 30-35% of communication is actually accomplished through words. Really? Yes, just think about it.  Holding your forefinger and thumb together in a circle with the other fingers straight up, patting the seat next to you, breaking out in a big grin, blowing a kiss, raising a hand in class, rolling your eyes—all of these are movements and gestures we see every day, perfect examples of body language.

              Dr Birdwhistell was born September 18, 1918, and his studies in kinesics, which he named after the Greek word for movement, are legendary in the fields of anthropology, folklore, and psychiatry.  And now back to body language in the Bible.

              And the LORD said to Moses, “I have seen this people, and behold, it is a stiff-necked people, Ex 32:9.  That phrase must be the most commonly used one I found in regard to body language.  You know exactly what it means.  Talk to someone you have an issue with and you will see his shoulders draw up and his chin point down, his chest poke out, and his jaws clench—all signs of tension in the neck area.  It means here is a man who has already decided not to change his mind regardless what you say.  Nehemiah says it this way…and they turned a stubborn shoulder and stiffened their neck and would not obey, Neh 9:29.

               Centuries after God’s words to Moses, we find this:  Do not now be stiff-necked as your fathers were, but yield yourselves to the LORD…2 Chron 30:8.  You can only “yield” when you are pliable, and these people were rigid, determined not to listen and yield.  And the trait was passed down to the sons, not because of genetics, but because children take their cues from their parents.  Still later we find, You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit. As your fathers did, so do you, Acts 7:51.  Body language does not change like spoken language.  It remains the same for thousands of years.

              Have you ever had a discussion with someone only to have that person start shaking his head no before you have even presented your reasoning?  The Bible describes people who were just like that.  But they refused to pay attention and turned a stubborn shoulder and stopped their ears that they might not hear, Zech 7:11.  You automatically know that you will make no headway with that person.  In fact, you also know that you will not receive whatever benefits you might have from his study because the conversation is over before it even starts.  Isaiah says it this way: They know not, nor do they discern, for he has shut their eyes, so that they cannot see, and their hearts, so that they cannot understand, Isa 44:18.  You are only hurting yourself when you won’t at least listen with an open mind.

              Body language works with the righteous too.  ​He who walks righteously and speaks uprightly, who despises the gain of oppressions, who shakes his hands, lest they hold a bribe, who stops his ears from hearing of bloodshed and shuts his eyes from looking on evil, he will dwell on the heights; his place of defense will be the fortresses of rocks; his bread will be given him; his water will be sure, Isa 33:15,16.

              Yes, you have to be careful when judging body language.  Sometimes a frown is simply a matter of indigestion.  But a teacher knows when the same person wears the same look of indifference, boredom, or agitation every week.  He knows when his words have struck a nerve.  Most of us are so obvious it’s embarrassing.  But he also knows when someone is eating up the study of God’s word, perhaps thinking of its application to his own life, perhaps eagerly wondering where a deeper study on the same subject might lead him when he returns home.  A speaker sees the nods of encouragement from the older members and even the light bulbs going off in people’s minds. 

              Just as so many years ago, we speak a silent language, one that is obvious to anyone looking at us, even those who do not speak English.  It’s a language that God can speak fluently.  Be careful what you “say.”
             
For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart, Heb 4:12.
 
Dene Ward

On August 9, 1854, Walden by Henry David Thoreau was published under its original name, Life in the Woods.  A book categorized by various critics as autobiography, natural history, philosophy, and social criticism, it became a slogan source among the educated hippie movement of the 60s.  Thoreau had left "modern" living to stay in a hut on the banks of Walden Pond without even the minimal luxuries of his day for two years, two months, and two days.  He wanted to be away from the constraints of society and the pull of personal expectations that society places in us.  He wanted to be "different."

               When I was growing up, all young people wanted to be "different," so quotes from Walden proliferated among them, even though they did not apply at all.  As I looked around me and actually considered what was happening, it dawned on me that they didn't really want to be different.  They just didn't want rules or even societal expectations.  They wanted to be different from their parents.  But every single one of them wanted that in exactly the same way, and they all wanted to be just like each other. 

               When it came right down to it, I was one of the "different" ones.  I wore my skirts to my knees, no strapless or spaghetti straps, nor deep vee necks or backs, no short shorts, no bikinis.  I never swore, never smoked, drank, or used drugs.  And they all knew it.  But because I was not like them, I was an outcast.  So much for appreciating individuality.  They were as much hypocrites as they claimed their parents were.

              Now think a minute about Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  Those boys were probably the same age as our children who struggle with wanting to be like all their friends—late middle school to early high school.  Not only were they different, they reveled in it.  They forced the issue with their insistence on different foods. 

              Just to clear up a few misconceptions, vegetarianism was not required by the Law.  In fact, to be a good Jew, you had to be a meat-eater.  The Passover meal and all the sacrifices required eating of the sacrificed animal as part of the worship.  So why did these boys insist on vegetables only?  It might have been that the meats they were given were sacrificed to idols.  Part of their training was probably in the Babylonian religion.  Maybe that is why they refused the meats.  But understand this, eating any meal prepared by Gentile hands in a Gentile country was unclean, even if it was not sacrificed to idols.

              So maybe this is the point:  they were trying to show that they were different from the other young men who had been carried away from other cultures.  They wanted to be seen as different.  And before long, their God-enhanced abilities made the differences even more obvious.  God himself made sure they were seen as different!  And they didn't mind one bit.

              So here is my question for you:  Are you teaching your children not only to be different, but to want to be different?  Do they want to stand out from the world or do they want to disappear into the crowd, eventually being swallowed up by the same desires and goals as the rest, living the same lifestyle, blending in, being, in the words of the Star Trek franchise, "assimilated?"

              When I graduated from high school, my junior English/senior Writing teacher gave me a poster with this quote from Walden: If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.  Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.  I did not realize its significance at first, but my mother did.  "She knows you are not like all the rest," she told me, "and she respects that."

              Why aren't we teaching our children, not to march in step with all their friends, but to listen for that distant, and different, drummer, and keep pace with Him.  Why aren't they as determined to do so as those three teenagers from Judah who sat in Nebuchadnezzar's court.  Perhaps, parents, we need to take them on a "visit", not to Walden Pond, but to Nazareth, Gethsemane, and Golgotha.  Maybe then, they would understand what it is really like to be "different."  Maybe we would, too.
 
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. (1Pet 2:21)
 
Dene Ward

Nothing annoys me much more than a chirping smoke alarm.  Yes, yes, yes, I tell it.  I know you need a new battery.  I will get to it as soon as I can.  But aren't we glad we have them?
 
             It has taken a long time for affordable, reliable, home smoke detectors to hit the market.  The first fire alarm was invented and patented by Francis Robbins Upton, a friend of Thomas Edison's, in 1890.  George Andrew Darby of Birmingham, England invented the first smoke detector in 1902.  Both items were too basic to be reliable and marketable.  In the late 1930s a Swiss physicist named Walter Jaeger attempted to invent a poison gas detector.  It didn't detect the poison, but the smoke from his cigarette did set it off.  This one was too expensive to produce to have much impact on the market.

              I was finally able to find a patent given to inventors Randolph J. Smith of Anaheim, California and Kenneth R House of Norwalk, Connecticut on August 5, 1969.  Their model was evidently the first battery-powered residential model that was actually affordable and reliable.  It emitted a piercing alarm at the presence of smoke.  And yes, I suppose it did that annoying little chirping thing too.

              Maybe it’s because I am the only one around here who even needs the smoke alarm.  Keith not only can’t hear the chirping, he can stand under the thing when it goes off and not hear it.  As long as I am in the house I can wake Keith up and get both of us out in time should a fire start.  If only the toaster and the broiler and the occasional spillover on the burners didn't set it off too.

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

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

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

              Heed the warning when you get it, no matter how you get it or from whom.  It may be the only one you get.  People aren’t like smoke alarms.  Not many of them will put up with your bad reactions.  They’ll either stop chirping, or never chirp again.  Then what will you do when the fire starts?
 
"Son of man, speak to your people and say to them, If I bring the sword upon a land, and the people of the land take a man from among them, and make him their watchman, and if he sees the sword coming upon the land and blows the trumpet and warns the people, then if anyone who hears the sound of the trumpet does not take warning, and the sword comes and takes him away, his blood shall be upon his own head. He heard the sound of the trumpet and did not take warning; his blood shall be upon himself. But if he had taken warning, he would have saved his life,   Ezekiel 33:2-5.
 
Dene Ward

Croquet has a long and unsure history as a game.  The things we do know even seem to be in dispute.  Sometime in the early 1850s, a woman named Mary Workman-MacNaghten, whose father was a baronet in Ireland, went to a London toy maker named Isaac Spratt, and asked him to make a croquet set.  Her family had played the game long before she was born "by tradition," which means no written set of rules, using mallets made by local carpenters.  Her brother eventually wrote down the rules they used.  Spratt made some sets and printed out those rules.  He registered his creation with the Stationers' Company in 1856, but the copyright form gives the date as August 2, 1853, plenty of time for Lewis Carroll to make the game even more famous in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
 
             When our boys were in middle school we gave them a croquet set.  At first they seemed a little disappointed—croquet?  How boring.  Then we actually started playing and they discovered strategy, like whacking your opponent completely out of bounds with one of your free shots.  Now that was fun.

              We have settled down to annual games during the holidays whenever we get together.  It is the perfect way to let the turkey digest, and we usually wind up playing two or three times.  But that time of year means a less than clear playing field on what is already a rollercoaster lawn.  Our yard, you see, isn’t exactly a lawn.  It’s an old watermelon field, and though the rows have settled somewhat after thirty-odd years, we still have low spots, gopher holes, ant hills, and armadillo mounds.  But in the fall we also have sycamore leaves the size of paper plates, pine cones, piles of Spanish moss, and cast off twigs from the windy fronts that come through every few days between October and March.  You cannot keep it cleaned up if you want to do something besides yard work with your life.  So when you swing your mallet, no matter how carefully you have aimed, you never really know where your ball will end up.  We call it “ultimate croquet.”  Anyone who is used to a tabletop green lawn would be easy pickings for one of us—even me, the perennial loser.

              All those “hazards” make for an interesting game of croquet, but let me tell you something.  I have learned the hard way that an interesting life is not that great.  I have dug ditches in a flooding rainstorm, cowered over my children during a tornado, prayed all night during a hurricane, climbed out of a totaled car, followed an ambulance all the way to the hospital, hugged a seizing baby in my lap as we drove ninety down country roads to the doctor’s office, bandaged bullet wounds, hauled drinking water and bath water for a month, signed my life away before experimental surgeries—well, you get the picture. Give me dull and routine any day. 

              Dull and routine is exactly what Paul told Timothy to pray for.  I exhort therefore, first of all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions, thanksgivings, be made for all men; for kings and all that are in high place; that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and gravity. This is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior; who would have all men to be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth, 1 Tim 2:1-5. 

              Did you catch that?  Pray that our leaders will do what is necessary for us to have a “tranquil and quiet life” so that all men can “come to a knowledge of the truth.”  God’s ministers cannot preach the gospel in a country where everyone is in hiding or running in terror from the enemy, where you never have enough security to sit down with a man and discuss something spiritual for an hour or so, where you wonder how you will feed your family that night, let alone the next day.  The Pax Romana was one of the reasons the gospel could spread—peace in the known world.  That along with the ease of travel because every country was part of the same empire and a worldwide language made the first century “the fullness of times” predicted in the prophets.

              I don’t have much sympathy for people who are easily bored, who seem to think that life must always be exciting or it isn’t worth living.  I am here to tell you that excitement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  And God gave us plenty to do during those dull, routine times.  It’s called serving others and spreading the Word.  If you want some excitement, try that.  It’s even better than Ultimate Croquet.
 
Now concerning brotherly love you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another, for that indeed is what you are doing to all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, 1 Thes 4:9-11.
 
Dene Ward

The Second Continental Congress met in May of 1775.  One of the many things that group accomplished was the forerunner of our current postal system.  It seemed obvious to everyone that there needed to be a reliable line of communication between the Congress and the armies.  Thus Benjamin Franklin was named the Postmaster General on July 25, 1775.  Since he was still serving at the Declaration of Independence in July 1776, he is considered the first Postmaster General of the United States of America.  The postal system may have changed some since his day, but we have come to take it for granted as we complain mightily about everything from costs to service.  But that system has meant a lot to me through the years.

           When we first moved over a thousand miles from my hometown, I eagerly awaited the mailman every day.  As the time approached, I learned to listen from any part of the house for that “Ca-chunk” when he lifted the metal lid on the black box hanging by the door and dropped it in.  Oh, what a lovely sound!
 
            My sister often wrote long letters and I returned the favor, letters we added onto for days like a diary before we sent them off.  My parents wrote, Keith’s parents wrote, both my grandmothers wrote, and a couple of friends as well.  It was a rare week I did not receive two or three letters.  This generation with their emails, cell phones, and instant messaging has no idea what they are missing, the joy a simple “clunk” can bring when you hear it.

              I was far from home, in a place so different I couldn’t always find what I needed at the grocery store.  Not only were the brands different—and to a cook from the Deep South, brands are important—but the food itself was odd.  It was forty years ago and the Food Network did not yet exist.  Food was far more regional. 

             The first time I asked for “turnips,” I was shown a bin of purple topped white roots.  In the South, “turnips” were the greens.  I asked for black-eye pea and cantaloupe seeds for my garden, and no one knew what they were.  I asked for summer squash and was handed a zucchini.  When I asked for dried black turtle beans—a staple in Tampa—they looked at me like I was surely making that one up.

             So a letter was special, a taste of home in what was almost “a foreign land,” especially to a young, unsophisticated Southern girl who had never seen snow, didn’t know the difference between a spring coat and a winter coat, and had never stepped out on an icy back step and slid all the way across it, clutching at a bag of garbage like it was a life line and praying the icy patch ended before the edge of the stoop.

            Maybe that’s how the Judahite exiles first felt when they got Jeremiah’s letter, but the feeling did not last.  They did not want to hear his message.  They were sure the tide would turn, that any day now God would rescue Jerusalem and send Nebuchadnezzar packing.  But that’s not what Jeremiah said.

            The letter…said: “Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare… For thus says the LORD: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. Jer 29:3-8, 10.

           You are going to be here seventy years, they were told.  Settle down and live your lives.  It took a lot to get these people turned around.  Ezekiel worked at it for years.  They may have been the best of what was left, but they were still unfaithful idolaters who needed to repent in order to become the righteous remnant.

            Which makes it even more remarkable that they had to be told to go about their lives, and especially to “seek the welfare of the city,” the capital of a pagan empire.  To them that was giving up on the city of God, the Promised Land, the house of God, the covenant, and even God Himself.  And it took years for Ezekiel to undo that mindset and make them fit to return in God’s time, not theirs.

           But us?  We have to be reminded that we don’t belong here.  We are exiles in a world of sin.  Yes, you have to live here, Paul says, but don’t live like the world does.  This is not your home.  Peter adds, Beloved, I beseech you as sojourners and pilgrims… 1Pet 2:11.  Too many times we act like this is the place we are headed for instead of merely passing through.

           How many times have I heard Bible classes pat themselves on the back:  “We would never be like those faithless people.”  But occasionally even they outdo us.
 
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. Heb 11:13
 
Dene Ward

Although some might find it difficult to understand because of the past few decades, our country used to be fast friends with France.  After all, they were our allies during the American Revolution.  In 1885, they gave us a special gift, and on June 17 of that year, over 200,000 Americans lined the shore to welcome that gift, the Statue of Liberty, to her new home. 

              She consisted of 350 pieces transported in 214 crates.  When reassembled, she stood 151 feet tall.  Designed by Alexandre-Gustave Eiffel, her copper sheets were sculpted by Frederic-Auguste Bartholdi.  The pedestal on which she stands was built with funds from benefits, charity auctions, and private donations.  In 1924, President Calvin Coolidge declared her a national monument, one that still represents freedom, not only to newly arriving immigrants, but to those of us who have lived here our entire lives.

              Americans cherish their freedom, although we sometimes take it for granted.  We seem to think we are the only ones so blessed.  Yet Christians have always had more freedom than anyone in the world.  Christ has set us free from sin and the power of death.  Too many times we take that freedom for granted as well.  We are too busy making excuses for our failures to appreciate the power he has placed in us to control ourselves and overcome.

              But then, that is a freedom we have too, isn't it?  The freedom to choose not to take advantage of his help and his promises.   How many of us look at the choices set before us and stubbornly make the wrong ones?  God tells us how dangerous the world is.  He warns against deception and trickery.  He tells us our salvation is our own responsibility so be careful who you follow.  Yet even when we look at the choices side by side, we seem so drawn to the wrong ones.  They are immediate.  They are tangible.  They are pleasant.  The idea of something far superior in the future seems to be pie in the sky.  “A bird in the hand…” the old saying goes, and we fall for it nearly every time.

              It would be so much easier if God made the choice for us, but where is the glory in a creature who cannot choose? 
 
              The idea that God did not give us a choice, that He makes the choice of who will be saved from the moment of their birth is, of course, a fairly common theological doctrine.  Yet it limits God in ability and creativity.  It makes Him a respecter of persons.  It makes Him unsympathetic and unapproachable, a tyrant who makes decisions seemingly at random, playing with the eternal souls of people as if they were plastic action figures.  That is not the God of the Bible.  There are too many heart-rending pleas for us to return.  There are too many passages giving options to people in all sorts of situations, including whether or not they will serve Him for that to be true.
 
              He gave me a choice; he gave you a choice.  Make the right one.
 
I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse: therefore choose life, that you may live, you and your seed, Deut 30:19.
 
Dene Ward

On the date above, the Associated Press ran a story about "half-naked natators" on the municipal beaches of New York City who were being fined ($1.00) for showing up topless.  "The city fathers insist on complete bathing suits—tops and trunks, or one-piece suits combining both."
              Yes, we are talking about men here.  Before then, public morals insisted that men not go shirtless. "Are you kidding?" some of you are probably thinking, but, as a preacher friend likes to say, "Here's the deal."  Just because society's sense of modesty has changed does not mean God's has.  We point to articles like this and use them to justify some of the most immodest clothing ever worn in any society through the ages.  And why?  Because we do not want to be different, that's why.  Folks, being different is what being a Christian is all about.  It is all over the pages of the New Testament.  If you can't stand to be pointed at and derided because you refuse to act like the rest of the world, then you are not up to the task of being a Christian.
              Granted, some of us have been raised to see certain things as "normal."  Do you realize how many things a missionary has to "unteach" in a pagan society where they are accepted as "normal?"  We are just acting like pagans when we allow our society to define our morality.  It is high time we re-examined our behavior, and in this morning's post, our clothing. 
              Do you realize that European women (I read in a newspaper article) view American women as "dressed like prostitutes?"  I wish I still had that article so you would know I am not making this up.  What we like to call "immodesty" is probably better defined as lasciviousness—that which arouses lust.  Here is where fathers fail to teach and mothers fail to accept their views.  Men know exactly what other men are thinking—especially men who are not even trying to be godly.  And what do men like to look at?
              Cleavage, short shorts, any kind of swimsuit (or anything that shows an entire length of leg or even just most of one), spaghetti straps, work-out clothes, tight jeans and skirts, strapless and backless clothes, bare midriffs (and a belly chain is a special turn-on), and any item that blatantly draws attention to certain parts of the body.  Yes, immodesty is often a heart issue.  A woman who dresses with "the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit" (1 Pet 3:4) will seldom dress immodestly.  However, immodesty can also be a matter of ignorance.  Just as those pagans who thought polygamy was "normal" needed to be shown otherwise, some women think certain types of dress are normal because that is what everyone else wears.  Sometimes practicality simply demands some sort of list!
              That list above can be found in any article or book on the subject, even ones not written by Christians.  Ungodly people know what is and is not immodest.  For some reason, the list doesn't change no matter what the date of copyright.  In fact, it is the same list I saw as a teenager, oh, so many, many years ago.  So what was that about "things have changed?"  What incites lust does not change.
              "So what can I wear?" you ask pitifully.  A lot.  I haven't had a bit of trouble finding things to wear.  Neither has my daughter-in-law or my seven nieces.  There are even companies that make "modest swimwear."  Enough Christians of one stripe or another have asked for it and it is now available, if you will bother to look it up.  I did not have such a luxury and I truly looked weird in my swimming get-up, which was made up of various items of regular, modest clothing that covered me from neck to knee and was not transparent, even when it got wet.
              Another problem:  parents, please think about the extracurricular activities you involve your children in, both boys and girls, and the kind of clothing that activity usually demands.  Why would you allow your child to come to love, and even build his or her identity in something that sooner or later you will have to forbid?  Could you be any crueler?  I have reached the point that, though I enjoy gymnastics, I will no longer watch it now that half of every young female gymnast's behind is on display.  I probably should have turned it off sooner. 
              Every year that passes I see us accepting things that we should not, things we should avoid and teach our children to avoid, not excuse as "normal because everyone does it."  I remember conversations with my mother about that very thing.  "What everyone does is probably the best reason for you not to do it," she said, and she was absolutely right.
              Go look in your closets, sisters.  Look in your daughter's closet.  She will not understand when you suddenly forbid her to wear some things.  You will never be able to make her understand, probably, until she marries, and even then some women refuse to get it.  Why, their good man could not possibly have a problem with these things.  Yes, he can, and you are making it harder on him when you won't accept the facts of biology.
              We all have a responsibility to the people around us.  If we cause lust, we are "causing our brother to stumble (SIN)," and yes, it is too, our problem, not just his, because God will hold us accountable.
 
Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear—but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious.  For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves… (1Pet 3:3-5)
 
Dene Ward