"Resolved, That the flag of the United States be made of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation."  It has changed now and again from that day over two centuries ago, but the American flag still means to us what it did then—a symbol of a new nation, no longer a colony belonging to a mad king.
              The thirteen red and white stripes represent the original thirteen colonies.  The fifty stars represent the fifty states in the union.  Even the colors are symbolic.  Red symbolizes hardiness and valor.  White symbolizes purity and innocence.  Blue symbolizes vigilance, perseverance, and justice.
              The symbolism of flags and banners is nearly as old as man himself.  In Num 2:2 we see that every tribe of Israel had a banner, a flag, which flew over their encampment.  Like the American flag, the images on the flags were symbolic.  Unfortunately we do not have a Biblical record of those symbols.  The best we can do are various rabbinic lists, and some of them do make sense.  The image on Judah’s banner, for instance, was supposedly a lion, taken from Jacob’s description of Judah in Gen 49:9 as a “lion’s whelp.”  Benjamin’s flag pictured a wolf, we are told, based on his description as a “scavenging wolf” in 49:27.  The odd thing to me is that some of these symbols are anything but complimentary.  Dan’s symbol, for example, is a snake:  Dan shall be a serpent in the way, An adder in the path, That bites the horse's heels, So that his rider falls backward.  49:17.
              And so I found myself wondering what if God ordered a flag act, requiring us to fly a banner outside every meetinghouse?  What would be on them?  What would represent our “tribe” of God’s people?
              I wonder if we could somehow depict the city of Gibeah (Judg 19) on every flag outside an unwelcoming group of brethren, people who ignored the ones who weren’t dressed well or who showed up in leather and covered in tattoos?  Maybe we could put a whitewashed sepulcher on the flags of those who sit in the pews on Sunday but live like the Devil the rest of the week.  Perhaps phylacteries would be the picture on the flag of those congregations who could quote verse after verse, but who never served their neighbors or each other.  Maybe we could put a big puff adder on the flag of those who were “conceited and puffed up” with “an unhealthy craving for controversy,” 1 Tim 6:4.  And don’t forget one with a rendition of Judas kissing Jesus for those congregations who betray God by ignoring His authority in all they do.
              It would certainly be handy wouldn’t it, far better than those “directories.”   Then we could look for flags showing foot washing—truly a church of servants.  We could look for flags depicting an open Bible for those known for their love of the Truth and spreading it.  We could even look for embroidered hearts denoting love and sincerity. 
              I am sure you are sitting there right now trying to decide what should be on your congregation’s flag.  Here is something even more important for you to consider for the rest of the day:  what would God put on your own personal flag, the one flying right outside your home?
 
You have given a banner to them that fear you, That it may be displayed because of the truth. Psalms 60:4.
 
Dene Ward

I was scanning a baseball trivia article called “The Odd Side of Baseball” by Gene Elston, and came across this story.  On May 23, 1895, the Louisville Cardinals forfeited a game to Brooklyn because they didn’t supply enough baseballs for the game.  They didn’t have enough baseballs for the game?  What kind of game did they think it was, tag?

            They began the game with three balls, two of which were used practice balls borrowed from the Brooklyn Bridegrooms, so by the third inning the balls were all too worn out to use.  Since the home team was obligated to provide them, that was that.  Brooklyn got an easy win.

            I have watched baseball for a few years now.  Even a late bloomer like me knows that those umpires toss out balls with the least little scuff mark on them, not counting the home runs and ground rule doubles that you lose into the stands, not to mention the free souvenirs tossed by generous outfielders several times an inning.  Even I know you need more than three balls to play a full nine inning game.

            All of which got me to wondering what we fail to supply while claiming to be Christians.  The obvious one is showing up for class or a sermon without a Bible, but how many of us also try to get through life without opening one?  How many of us try to fulfill our obligation to know the Word with a scanty chapter a day?  How many of us think we can keep a viable relationship with our Creator on three one minute graces a day before meals?  Sounds like starting a baseball game with three balls, two of which are in poor condition to begin with.

            But let’s think for a minute about the supplies God furnishes and see if that doesn’t give us a few more clues.  We are supposed to emulate our Father, after all.

            A little searching turned up eight passages describing God as “abundant in lovingkindness.”  Seven of those include the phrase, “slow to anger.”  How many of us are more prone to bring just three balls of patience and forbearance to others, instead of an abundant enough supply to play through the whole game—and actually have leftovers?  Are we afraid some of that patience may go to waste or just too chintzy to share? 

            Psalm 132:15 tells us that God will “abundantly bless” his people.  Other passages talk about the abundance of rain and crops.  They speak of God’s people being satisfied, not with scanty amounts, but “with fatness.”  How would people describe what we give back to God, not just in the collection plate, but in our time, in our effort, in our generosity to others, and in the way we make decisions every day?  Is God always on our minds, or simply when the cultural norms of the day dictate?  Does our service to God always come first in any decision we make, even where we live, whom we marry, and where we spend our spare time?  Or are we stingy with that too?

            Isa 55:7 tells us God will “abundantly pardon.”  Not just enough so we can squeak by, but enough that we can live without fear of judgment, 1 John 4:17,18.  How do we pardon those who have wronged us?  How can we even speak in the same terms when the things we become so upset about are usually petty annoyances, nothing even close to the despicable deeds we have done to this merciful God, who continually supplies the balls, who never runs out no matter how many we scuff up, or hit over the wall, or toss out to a bystander as if it were nothing?

            What are you bringing to the ball game?  We can never supply our own pardon, but we can sacrifice anything and everything as often as necessary and stand ready to give up even more to a Savior who came “that we may have life, and have it abundantly,” John 10:10.
 
Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, unto him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus unto all generations for ever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21
 
Dene Ward

On May 21, 1901, Connecticut became the first state to pass a law restricting the speed of vehicles—12 mph in town, and 15 out of town.  There had been speed limits as early as 1652, but those were for non-motorized vehicles.  Wagons, carts, and sleighs were not permitted to travel "at a gallop" in New Amsterdam (New York City).  The first paper speeding ticket seems to have been issued in 1904, to Harry Myers in Dayton, Ohio.  So it took about three years for someone to get caught breaking the traffic laws.  My, how times have changed.

               Americans in general have a problem with authority.  We are quick to ask, “Who says?” and just as quick to ignore the answer.  That is why you see all those brake lights on the road in front of you when the wolf pack of cars passes a trooper on the side of the road.  If we all recognized the authority of the government, we would not be breaking laws when we thought no one was watching. 

              People today are always talking about making Jesus “Lord” in their lives.  If our culture gets in the way in any area, it is this one.  We have no idea what living under a “lord” is like.  We vote our lawmakers in if we like them and out if we don’t.  We hold sit-ins, walk picket lines, and strike.  Actually having someone else tell us how to handle every area of our lives is not only something we have never experienced, it is something that would rankle and cause rebellion immediately, simply for the fact of it. 

              Jesus can be Lord in my life as long He will take me as I am, as long as He will be the kind, accepting, loving Lord who never expects any sacrifice on my part.  He can be my Lord as long as he helps me when I want him and how I want him, and leaves me alone otherwise.  He can be my Lord as long as I get to choose how I serve Him.  Our culture is getting in the way.  This is one thing those first century Christians could handle better than we can—they lived under an irrational tyrant.  Yet when Peter and Paul told them to obey the government they did, even when that government tortured and killed them.

              We show a complete lack of respect for authority when we disrespect God’s law.  I keep hearing, “This is how I want to do it, and God knows my heart so He will accept it.”  This comes from women who get mad at husbands whose gifts are “not romantic.”  “He should know what I want and want to please me,” even though they never spell it out in so many words.  God does spell it out but if it’s not what we want to give him, we ignore his desires. 

              It comes from men who make fun of the ties and after shave they get on Father’s Day.  They want season tickets to their favorite team’s game or some other “manly” gift or toy, but their wives “just don’t get it.”  I suppose God should accept those token gifts if we give them with all our hearts?  We regularly give God what we would never accept gracefully ourselves, what we would in fact, ridicule to our friends.

              Jesus said authority is important.  He said there are only two places to get it: “from Heaven or from men,” Matt 21:25, the point being that authority from God is all that matters.  In turn, God gives governments authority (Rom 13:1), husbands authority (Eph 5:23), parents authority (Eph 6:1), and elders authority (Heb 13:17).  Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment, Rom 13:2.  When the Israelites rejected God’s choice of judge as their ruler and demanded a king instead, God told Samuel, they have not rejected you, they have rejected me from being king over them, 1 Sam 8:7.

              Rebellion seems to be second nature to Americans.  But rebellion against God’s authority, or any God-ordained authority, is rebellion against God.
 
And seated [Christ] at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age, but in the one that is to come.  And he put all things under his feet, and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all, Eph 1:20-23
             
Dene Ward
 

On April 30, 1803, America signed a treaty with France giving her possession of the Louisiana territory for $11,250,000 plus assuming claims of American citizens against France totaling $3,750,000.  For a grand total of $15 million we gained 828,000 square miles of land.  We received a territory that eventually became 13 states for 3 cents an acre.  Let's just say, France was having troubles.  They needed some quick cash.  And the United States was expanding quickly.  "Manifest Destiny" was not yet a policy, but a lot of people had the bug already.

               Owning a piece of land was our goal, too, when we moved to this part of the state.  I remember when we finally signed the papers and came out to make plans for our new home site.  Walking on this ground was suddenly different.  Every place we put our feet was ours, or was it? 

              We have done our best to be good stewards of this land, this loan from God.  Stewardship is what being green is all about.  We used this ground for our family’s sustenance.  We raised pigs for their meat and chickens for their eggs.  We grew a large vegetable garden, and a little herb garden closer to the kitchen.  We planted grapevines and blueberry bushes and several kinds of fruit trees. 

              We also tried to make the world a more beautiful place.  We transplanted azaleas, jasmine, roses, and lilies, and have added an amaryllis bed, a trellis of six different flowering vines, wildflowers in the field, and annuals here and there.

              We have used it to create a loving home for our children.  Keith and the boys built a doghouse for all the various family pets.  In the early days they put up a swing set.  Later they set a basketball goal in the field.  They put together a backboard to act as catcher in their three-man baseball game (pitcher-batter-fielder), and hauled in dirt from the back corner of the property to make a pitcher’s mound.  We tried to make this possession of ours a good place, a useful place.  We tried to make it more than just a has-been watermelon field.

              You are God’s possession.  He told his people at least twice in Deuteronomy, “You are my treasured possession.”  We have this tendency to say, “It’s my life; I can do as I please.”  No it isn’t, and no you can’t.  You belong to God.

              Maybe it is more difficult for us in our culture.  We do not understand belonging to a person.  That is slavery, something this country paid a huge price to rid itself of.  But those ancient people did understand.  I found two places in the Old Testament where men told other men, “We are yours.”  (2 Kings 10:5; 1 Chron 12:18)  They added comments like, “We are on your side,” and “We will do all you say to do.”  Do you think God asks any less of us?

              Even when we understand that, we limit it, and try to make it sound better for being so:  as long as my heart is for God, nothing else matters.  You cannot compartmentalize your devotion to God.  YOU belong to God, not just your heart, not just your actions, not just your words or your time or your money—all of you, even your physical body.  “It is He who has made us and not we ourselves” Psalm 100:3.  Of course we are his possession.

              Paul reminds us of the same thing in his argument against one particular sin.   Now the body is not for fornication, but for the Lord; and the Lord for the body. Know ye not that your bodies are the members of Christ? Shall I then take the members of Christ, and make them the members of a harlot? God forbid, 1 Cor 6:13,15. 

              What we do with our bodies does matter.  Just as the two of us would be angry for anyone to use our piece of land for something sinful, God is angry when we use his possession for sins of the flesh.  Just as we want to make the best use of this land for as long as possible, God expects us to care for his possession so that it will be useful to him for as long as possible.

              Taking care of God’s possession, our bodies, involves far more than the usual abstinence from smoking, drugs, and liquor we usually associate with this concept.  Especially as we grow older, ailments happen.  Sometimes its genetics, but sometimes it’s because we didn’t take care of ourselves the years before.  Staying healthy for as long as possible is the least we owe God, but usually the last thing we think about. 

              And after illnesses come about, do you follow your doctor’s instructions?  I am simply amazed when my doctors ask me if I take my medicine regularly, and if I can handle the discomfort they cause.  Evidently some people can’t—or won’t.  The medicine tastes bad, or the eye drops burn, or it’s too much trouble to remember.  We have turned into a nation of whiners.

              We aren’t put here to play.  We are put here for our master’s use.  “We were bought with a price,” Paul says.  Is the Lord getting his money’s worth out of you?
 
Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body. 1Cor 6:19-20
 
Dene Ward

The 1930s were famous for more than one disaster.  Besides the Great Depression they were also known as the Dirty Thirties.  Drought, over-farming, and over-grazing turned the once fertile land of the Great Plains into the Dust Bowl.  100 million acres of farmland were affected.  Dozens of massive dust storms blew through every year of that decade.  The worst day by far was April 14, 1935 when 20 storms blew through in one day, turning the skies black and leading to the name "Black Sunday." 

              Those storms were far more dangerous than we realize.  All during that decade, schools were often closed to prevent "dust pneumonia" in those traveling back and forth.  If the children were already at school when a storm began, they were often kept overnight to keep them out of the filthy air. Cars drug chains behind them to ground them due to the high voltage static electricity that the dust caused and which led to several electrocutions.  People knew to sweep the dust off their roofs, but they forgot that dust seeps into cracks and many attics collapsed on the families beneath.

               After reading all that I knew that my incredibly dust-producing house was not as bad as I always thought.  Still, though, it is the dustiest place we have ever lived. A few weeks ago I got out the dust rags and the polish and went to work.  It had been over two months since I had dusted anything at all and it was showing, not just on the furniture, but in my nose and lungs—I have a dust mite allergy. 
 
             I knew it would take awhile and it did, dusting every flat surface and every item on them, including a large dinner bell collection, vases from Bethlehem and Nicaragua, and those porcelain bootee-shaped vases that flowers had come in when the boys were born, figurines inherited from grandmothers and great-aunts, a wooden airplane Keith’s grandfather whittled inside an empty whiskey bottle, candles, telephones, a small piano collection, a metronome, fan blades, jewelry boxes, and beaucoup picture frames.  I dirtied up four rags in an hour and a half, sneezed a couple dozen times, and required a decongestant in order to breathe the rest of the day.

              When I finished I looked around.  The pictures all reflected brightly in the wood they sat on, the porcelain shone, the candles looked a shade brighter, and the brass gleamed.  What a difference it made to dust things off.

              So what do you need to dust off in your life?   Sometimes we become satisfied with our place in the kingdom, happy with where we are in our spiritual growth, comfortable in our relationships with others and our ability to overcome.  Sometimes we sit so long in our comfortable spot, be it a literal pew or a figurative one, that we soon sport our own layer of dust.  Maybe we aren’t doing anything wrong exactly, we have just stopped stretching ourselves to be better and do more. 

              “Dusting off” seems a good metaphor for “renewal.”  Paul tells the Colossians we have “put off our old selves” (past tense) but that the new self is “being renewed” (present tense), Col 3:9,10.  Being renewed has not stopped and never should.  Every day is a new beginning for the child of God.  When we forget that, the dust starts to settle, and our light is dimmed with a layer of uselessness that builds every minute.  Soon, as the light weakens, no one will notice us, or is that the point?

              When did you last dust yourself off and get to work, “transforming yourself by the renewing of your mind?” Rom 12:2.  That layer of dust will build and build until it collapses on your unsuspecting spirit, giving you a case of dust pneumonia from which you may never recover.
 
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me, Psalms 51:10.
 
Dene Ward

Charles Richard Drew was a renowned surgeon who developed a method for storing blood plasma and transporting that blood to the people who needed it.  He was also the father of America's first large scale blood bank.
 
             A native of Washington, he was a gifted athlete who was recruited to Amherst College, one of only 13 African-Americans in a student body of 600.  He earned his medical degree in 1933 at McGill University, one of few schools open to black students, winning several prizes along the way and graduating second in his class.

              Despite constant roadblocks because of race, Drew did his internship and residency at Montreal Hospital, and joined the faculty at Howard University School of Medicine, teaching pathology and surgery and eventually becoming chief surgical resident at Freedmen's Hospital.  While working on a doctorate at Columbia, he won a fellowship to train at Presbyterian Hospital with John Scudder, who called him, "naturally great," and, "a brilliant pupil."  While working with Scudder his interest in transfusions and blood typing grew.  His dissertation was called a "masterpiece" and "one of the most distinguished essays ever written."  Eventually his procedures and standards for collecting and storing blood led to the Blood for Britain Project, which saved thousands of lives in World War II.                

              Drew went on to a brilliant, but short, career.  On March 31, 1950, he drove to a conference in North Carolina.  It was late and he was tired.  He fell asleep at the wheel and the automobile crashed.  Drew was rushed to an all-white hospital.  He needed a transfusion.  Because it makes for a much more titillating story, word went around that he was refused the transfusion because he was black.  I found that in several places, including a printed book.  But later, the correct story finally made the light of day.  He did receive the transfusion he needed just like any other patient, but it was not enough to save him.  He died on April 1, 1950.

              I suppose the comparison here is obvious.  Blood will save lives.  My own mother had to have 2 pints of it once because one of those many numbers they count had gone from a normal 13 to 5.  But even that will not save everyone, and it will not save forever.  Only one blood will do that—the blood of the sinless Savior.  No matter your race, no matter your sin, it can save you.  It does not need special processing or equipment to store it.  It is right there, always available.  Paul even tells us the proper procedure:

               Or are you ignorant that all we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?  We were buried therefore with him through baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life.  For if we have become united with him in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection; knowing this, that our old man was crucified with him, that the body of sin might be done away, that so we should no longer be in bondage to sin; for he who has died is justified from sin. (Rom 6:3-7)

              Do you need a transfusion?
 
Dene Ward

I learned as a child in the Florida school system that Juan Ponce de Leon was the first Spanish explorer to land here.  No records are available but he was believed to have been born in July, 1474, and traveled with Columbus as a very young man before ultimately setting off on his own.

              He had heard stories about a magical spring that could cure diseases and make you young again, so he began the search, finally sighting land on March 27, 1513.  A few days later he landed; no one is sure the exact date except that it was “late March,” and obviously after the 27th.  The land he set foot on somewhere near St. Augustine was so beautiful he called it Florida.  Spring in Florida is beautiful.  I understand why he was impressed.  If he had landed in July, we would have had a much different name.  (What’s the Spanish word for “sauna?”)

              We do have a lot of natural springs in Florida—probably half a dozen within 30 miles of where I sit—but none with the magical powers he looked for.  I can find a Fountain of Youth quite easily, though.  I have it laid out right next to me as I type.  The eternal life promised to the faithful may be the most obvious application of that concept, but I can think of yet another.

              As I watch my grandsons play I find myself remembering my own childhood, realizing as an adult how unfettered it was by worry, pain, and sorrow.  I never for a moment wondered where my next meal was coming from.  I never worried about storms, not even hurricanes.  I never worried about bad people doing bad things to me.  I had a Daddy I trusted implicitly.  He would take care of me.  That’s what Daddies do.

              Once when I was still in early grade school, I had a bad dream.  My Daddy came in and sat on the bed next to me, asking me about the dream and then carefully undoing every worry it had evoked in me.  When he finished I could go back to sleep because of his reassurances.  That’s what Daddies do.

              One morning in first grade I was upset about something—I don’t even remember what now.  But my Daddy noticed that I had tears in my eyes when I got out of the car at school.  As I stood in front of my classroom, waiting for the bell to ring, I looked up and there he was, striding down the sidewalk.  He had parked the car and come looking for me to make sure I was all right.  That’s what Daddies do.

              Daddies provide.  They protect.  They comfort.  Do you want a Fountain of Youth?  Stop worrying about things you cannot fix.  Stop being afraid of things you cannot handle alone.  Stop wondering how you will manage.  Cast your cares on a Father who loves you.  Once again become a little child who has a Daddy who will always be there, always watching out for your needs and taking care of your problems.  If you don’t have that, it’s only because you insist on ignoring His outstretched hand.  You insist on trying to control everything yourself—as if you were the Daddy. 

              Do you begin your prayers, “Father in Heaven?”  Then act like He is your Father.  Trust Him.  Begin this day with a new exuberance, one born because you have surrendered your cares to Him and finally found the Fountain of Youth.
 
For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, "Abba! Father!" The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, Romans 8:14-16.
 
Dene Ward

Do you remember that movie quote?  If you are even five years younger than I, you might not.  I first heard it as a young teenager sometime in April 1968, when a friend and I went to see Stanley Kubrick's new movie "2001:  A Space Odyssey."          

If you are not familiar with the movie or the short story by Arthur C. Clarke, it is the tale of two astronauts and a sentient computer, HAL 9000, who controls life support and computer systems on their space craft.  This simple explanation does not begin to cover the many elements of the plot, but suffice it to say, Hal begins to malfunction, deliberately causing the deaths of one of the astronauts as well as three others who are in a kind of hibernation.  It becomes a fight for survival between the last astronaut, Dr. Dave Bowman, and Hal.

Some of Hal's most remembered lines from the movie are:

"Just what do you think you're doing, Dave?"

"I'm sorry, Dave.  I'm afraid I can't do that."

"This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it."

The voice of Hal was masterfully portrayed by Douglas Rain, an acclaimed Shakespearean actor.  He performed the part with a bland, flat, non-accent in a quiet voice that, by the end of the movie sent chills up your spine.  You could easily imagine that this machine could coldly but calmly execute you if it saw a logical need for it. 

Rain was born on March 13, 1928, and even though Shakespeare seemed his main interest, he is still best known as the voice of Hal, and even now I can still hear him voicing those lines.

But what I want us to think about today is this:  What lines will we be remembered for?

If you have listened to the same preacher for several years, you have probably picked up on a few mannerisms he may not even know he has.  When I was growing up, we had a preacher who ended sentences with the word "that."  Or he would start them with, "This is that…"  If things like this happen more than once or twice a sermon, it becomes distracting.  You find yourself counting the repetitive phrase instead of listening to the point, a very good reason to tape yourself and listen once in a while.  But not even That (pardon me) is what I am talking about.

How do you greet people?  Pleasantly, with a smile and a welcome in your voice, or something that, though you may not actually say it, still sounds like, "What do YOU want?"

How do you answer questions?  With irritation?  With snide sarcasm?  With boredom in your voice?

When you teach, do your students have a habit of writing down some of your statements because they want to remember them, or, given the choice, do they simply never show up again?

Do you say more helpful things or more hurtful things?

Do you talk about people with disrespectful name-calling?  Or do you remember that they are made in the image of God? 

In all of these things, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

It's been 51 years since I first heard Hal's eerie voice say that and I still remember some of the other things he said, too.  What words of yours will people remember?
 
For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.  With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God.  From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so.  Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water?  Can a fig tree, my brothers, bear olives, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a salt pond yield fresh water. (Jas 3:7-12)
 
Dene Ward

Crepe myrtles are the super-plant of Florida summers.  Despite the heat, they bloom and seem to thrive, while everything else wilts and often dies.  The garden is over by the first of July, and the flower bed is far past its prime, but those crepe myrtles just keep on going, looking better than ever.  And it's all because of Andre Michaux.
 
             Michaux was not an aristocrat.  Born on March 8, 1746, he was the son of a French farmer who lived in the shadow of Versailles.  He was educated, as most Frenchmen were at the time, in the classics.  At 14, his father took him and his brother out of school to learn agriculture, a respected career at the time, and he soon showed a great affinity for making practically anything grow.

              When his wife of eleven months, Cecile Claye, died a few days after childbirth in 1770, he was devastated.  As we say these days, she was his soulmate, and he never married again.  In fact, the area surrounding him became unbearable with sad memories.  He soon came to the attention of Louis XVI's physician, who persuaded him to study botany.  Before long he became the Royal botanist and was sent on missions to find new trees and plants, specifically to revitalize stripped French forests, and leaving his new son with his grandparents, was happy to get away.  After that his life reads like an adventure novel, with treks to all parts of Asia, Africa, and the wilderness of North America, riding for miles on horseback, canoeing down uncharted rivers, and once being kidnapped by hostile tribes. 

              And here is where we find Andre and the crepe myrtle.  Originally from China it was first taken to England.  No one was impressed.  England was too cold a climate, even in the summer, for it to bloom.  So in 1786, Michaux brought it to the American South instead.  "Voila!" Michaux might have said in his native French.  This plant loved the heat, the humidity, and any type of soil you stuck it in.  He is also credited with introducing the mimosa and the camellia here in the South.

              So thanks to Andre Michaux, we had been looking for crepe myrtles for a while, the bush variety, not the trees.  Nathan and Brooke gave us some shoots that had come up around theirs and we gratefully planted them, and kept on looking for those bushes.  I am still not sure there is actually a difference in the plant, as one article I read said, or if it is all about how it is pruned, but after five or six years we still hadn’t found what we wanted, and that fall noticed the seed pods on our transplants.  We looked at each other and said, “Well, I’ve never heard of doing it before, but why not plant those seeds in some nursery pots?”

              We did, and guess what?  In spite of the fact that we had never heard of doing it before, they grew!  This past spring we transplanted 8 one foot high crepe myrtles from that nursery pot experiment, all of which are blooming just fine in the Florida summer.             

              Haven’t you heard it?  Someone comes up with an idea for spreading the gospel—one that is not beyond the bounds of God’s authority—but someone else pipes up, “I never heard of doing that before,” and expects that to be the end of the discussion.  In fact it often is, especially when prefaced by “Why, I’ve been a Christian for forty years...”  I wonder how many things would never have been done if everyone had that notion? 

              And the king made from the algum wood supports for the house of the LORD and for the king's house, lyres also and harps for the singers. There never was seen the like of them before in the land of Judah, 2 Chronicles 9:11

              The throne had six steps, and at the back of the throne was a calf's head, and on each side of the seat were armrests and two lions standing beside the armrests, while twelve lions stood there, one on each end of a step on the six steps. The like of it was never made in any kingdom, 1Kgs 10:20.

              And because of all your abominations I will do with you what I have never yet done, and the like of which I will never do again. Ezekiel 5:9.

              He has confirmed his words, which he spoke against us and against our rulers who ruled us, by bringing upon us a great calamity. For under the whole heaven there has not been done anything like what has been done against Jerusalem, Daniel 9:12.

              God didn’t seem to have any trouble accepting Solomon’s unique adornments for his throne and for the Temple.  He wasn’t above using punishments the like of which no one had ever seen before.  He certainly didn’t mind confounding the world by sacrificing His Son for our sins.  Aren’t you glad?

              We might be in bad company if “I’ve never heard of doing that before” becomes the source of authority for our actions. 

              As they were going away, behold, a demon-oppressed man who was mute was brought to him. And when the demon had been cast out, the mute man spoke. And the crowds marveled, saying, "Never was anything like this seen in Israel." But the Pharisees said, "He casts out demons by the prince of demons," Matthew 9:32-34.

              Jesus didn’t fit their preconceived notions so they accused Him of consorting with the Devil.  I’ve heard Christians come close when someone suggested something new to reach the lost, especially if it cost any money. 

              God tells us every word and action should be by His authority, not by whether we’ve heard of it or not.  I wouldn’t have any crepe myrtles if we had followed that dictum—and none of us would have a hope of salvation.
 
For from of old men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen a God besides thee, who works for him that waits for him, Isaiah 64:4.
 
Dene Ward

Keith was counting out pennies the other day and suddenly he called me to the table. 

"Have you seen these?" he asked, and lying there were four fairly new pennies with different images on them than we had grown up with.  One had a log cabin.  Another had a young rail splitter, taking a rest to read a book.  A third had Lincoln standing in front of the state capitol in Springfield, Illinois, and the fourth the US Capitol.

We wondered if they were real, so I looked it up and yes, indeed, they are real, minted in 2009 to celebrate the 200th birthday of Abraham Lincoln on February 12, 2009.  The four images show the various stages of his life, from childhood to the presidency.  Then I found another article about a new Lincoln penny minted the next year, a union shield with a draped scroll to celebrate Lincoln as the preserver of the Union.

But tell me this, when was the last time you even looked at a penny?  Most of us don't even pay with them anymore.  We hand the cashier a bill and take the change, and maybe that change gets thrown on the dresser or in a jar, and maybe every year or so you throw them in a change machine and replace them with bills again.  While I would not want anyone to do away with pennies—everything rounded up to the next nickel could get expensive, and don't for a minute believe that a merchant is going to round down—I really don't find much use for them.

A favorite tactic of the atheist is to talk about the little blue dot, which is what they call Earth, a mere "penny" in the vastness of outer space. 

"Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
“The significance of our lives and our fragile planet is then determined only by our own wisdom and courage. We are the custodians of life's meaning. We long for a Parent to care for us, to forgive us our errors, to save us from our childish mistakes. But knowledge is preferable to ignorance. Better by far to embrace the hard truth than a reassuring fable."  Carl Sagan, A Pale Blue Dot:  A Vision of the Human Future in Space.

The atheist believes that since this earth is such a tiny spot in this immense universe that we don't count for anything.  How, he asks, can a Deity, if there is a one, even take notice of us when there is so much more out there?  Really, he says, we need to grow up and stop believing myths.

I am here to tell you, that you may be just a penny on a pale blue dot, but God does care about you.  He does know what is going on in your life, the sorrows, the pain, the misfortunes, and the joys as well.  If you can tear yourself away from their fables long enough to examine the evidence around us and in the Word, you will see the proof of our importance to him in his constant dealings with man through the centuries, and the sacrifices he made to save us.  Why would he have done that if he didn't care, if you didn't matter, if he had so much more on his mind than this pale blue dot? 

The fact is the atheist cannot conceive of a God so much larger than himself, so much more compassionate, so much mightier and awesome.  When all you rely on is your puny little human mind you are kind of stuck that way.  Evidences and apologetics may never convince the skeptic, but you are not one of them or you wouldn't even be bothering with this tiny little blog in a huge cyberspace. 

When you open your mind and your heart to a revealed Word, and a Savior who knows exactly what living on this pale blue dot is all about, you can accept the infinite possibilities a whole lot easier.  And you can be sure that God looks at even his seemingly worthless pennies, and does so constantly.  You matter to him.

Think about that the next time you pull out a pocketful of change.
 
For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless toward him. (2Chr 16:9)

“For his eyes are on the ways of a man, and he sees all his steps. (Job 34:21)

Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, (Ps 33:18)

The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry. ​ When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. (Ps 34:15,17)

For a man's ways are before the eyes of the LORD, and he ponders all his paths. (Prov 5:21)

And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account. (Heb 4:13)

For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are open to their prayer. (1Pet 3:12)

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. (1Pet 5:6-7)
 
Dene Ward