Aspirin may be the most widely used over- the- counter drug in the world.  In fact, it has been a commonly used drug for thousands of years.  Acetylsalicylic acid (aspirin) comes from salicin, which is derived from various natural sources including willow bark and the spirea plant.  Ancient Sumerians and Egyptians knew about this substance as far back as 3000 BC and used it for pain and inflammation.  Hippocrates used it for fever and pain, including childbirth pain.  I have news for him.  Aspirin won't even come close for that!  Native Americans were known to chew on willow bark to relieve their aches and pains.  But most all these people also knew that too much of it would harm the stomach.  They had to know how to use it so that wouldn't happen.  They also knew which ailments it would not help.
            On March 6, 1899, Bayer was able to patent aspirin.  It isn't a package of powdered willow bark or spirea, but actual tablets, which did not appear until after the turn of the twentieth century.  And over the years, chemists have learned various ways to "buffer" its effects on the stomach.  They have also learned new uses for it.  A "heart attack aspirin" is only steps away in my home and maybe in yours as well.  But I do not use it for my various eye maladies and I doubt it has ever been used for serious illnesses such as leukemia or ALS.  It may have been labeled a "wonder drug" but it doesn't fix everything.
The other morning I noticed Chloe’s left ear sagging to the side.  No matter what was going on or how excited she was, that ear would not stand up as it normally did, over half as tall as her head in the manner of all Australian cattle dogs’ ears.  She reminded me of the antenna that sat on top of our television when I was a child, one leg of it straight up in the air, and the other at nearly ninety degrees.
            Then she started scratching at it and shaking her head and I knew—ear mites.  So we searched through the cabinet until we found the white squeeze bottle of ear mite treatment.  We had never used it on her so she came willingly, even when she saw us with the bottle.  In fact, we had not used it in so long that it took a while to get any out of the bottle, and then when it came, it came with a rush, completely filling her ear canal.  We held her long and massaged it in, but it was still too much.  As soon as we let go she shook her head and slung a big glop of it right into my eye.
            Canine ear mite medicine is not made for human eyeballs.  I rushed inside half blinded and flushed my eye for several minutes, then used up several vials of saline completely clearing the stuff out of my burning eye.  I think the contact lens helped shield it, or it might have been much worse.
            Some things don’t need medicating, especially with the wrong medicine, and some things we think need our ministrations just need to be left alone.
            John said unto him, Teacher, we saw one casting out demons in your name; and we forbade him, because he followed not us. But Jesus said, Forbid him not: for there is no man who shall do a mighty work in my name, and be able quickly to speak evil of me. For he that is not against us is for us, Mark 9:38-40.
            Many times we disagree with a brother about a subject that makes no difference at all in our ability to worship together.  Many times we disagree with each other about things that seem fairly important, but we can still sit on the same pew and worship our God in complete harmony.  The disharmony is caused only when we make something out of it.  As long as your beliefs do not hinder me from mine, where is the problem?  As long as I do not force mine on you as a condition of fellowship when it shouldn’t be, why can’t we get along?  You say you see something you believe might lead to a problem?  As long as it isn’t one, don’t force the issue.  Don’t deliberately do something that will bring discord into the family of God and call it “fighting for the truth,” when it is only wrangling about words or, at its heart, bickering about power.
            Sometimes we need to remember the Lord’s reply to his overzealous disciples:  “He that is not against us is for us.”  And we especially need to remember his absolute loathing of anything and anyone who disrupts the unity of his body.  Paul tells us in Ephesians 2 that Christ came to create unity, and that we are “one new man,” “one body,” “fellow citizens,” and “a family.” Why did he do that?  So that we might “grow into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together for a habitation of God.”  The God of peace cannot dwell in a temple that is not at peace.  We destroy the mission of Christ when we make it so.
            Be careful about diagnosing others’ beliefs.  Be careful about making things matters of spiritual life and death, when they are simply non-life-threatening “bugs.”  Maybe by our sitting together every Sunday, studying together with respect for one another instead of accusations, we can come even closer to agreement on those very bugs, and they will run their course and disappear.
 
One man esteems one day above another; another esteems every day alike.  Let each man be fully assured in his own mind…Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God; for it is written, "As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God." So then each of us will give an account of himself to God, Rom 14:5, 10-12.
 
Dene Ward
 

On February 26, 2008, the Svalbard Global Seed Vault first opened.  In case you are mystified, this seed vault holds samples of as many seeds in the world as the operators can lay hands on.  The point is to have a way to restore plant life if some cataclysmic event destroys it all on this planet.  Maybe I remember my biology class wrong, after all it was over fifty years ago, but I thought that if there were no plants, there would be no humans either so who will plant those seeds?  Well, actually, that's not the only point.  It seems someone who is supposed to know about these things and probably knows far more than I, says that 90% of the plant life that has ever existed on this planet is now extinct so they are also trying to keep the rest from becoming extinct.
            Many seed banks exist in the world, but all the others exist in places where the building itself can be destroyed—and then what happens to all those seeds?  This one is located in the side of a mountain in an archipelago in the Arctic Ocean, about halfway between continental Norway and the North Pole.  Even if the machinery that runs the freezers were to break down, the seeds would stay frozen because the temperature in that mountain is below zero.  Which also makes me wonder why they need the machinery, but I'll be nice and move on.
           Inspired by this amazing structure and its mission, Nabisco has built a Global Oreo Vault (no, I am not making this up) just down the road from the seed vault in which they have placed their famous recipe along with a large stockpile of Oreos "in case of asteroids" or other doomsday event on Planet Earth.  We may all be dead, but there will always be Oreos.  Who will make more of them with that recipe no one has said.
            I should mention that those Oreos are wrapped in Mylar that will protect them from moisture, air, and chemical reactions, and from temperatures ranging from -80 degrees to 300 degrees Fahrenheit.  And yet someone will still be alive and caring whether or not they have Oreos?  In the interests of fairness, Nabisco did this with a bit of tongue in cheek humor, but still it was done and it does make for a good lesson today.
            We are just as silly, and actually mean it, about our material wealth.  Silly enough that Jesus reminds us, Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust consume, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth consume, and where thieves do not break through nor steal (Matt 6:19-20).  We might think we would never build a Global vault of our own, but the truth of the matter shows when we spend more on our own pleasure and entertainment than on spiritual matters, when those in the world who know us personally would never think to describe us as generous and charitable, and when a downturn in the stock market scares us more than a sermon about Hell.
            I recently found a passage in Job that blew me away.  If I have made gold my hope, And have said to the fine gold, You are my confidence; If I have rejoiced because my wealth was great, And because my hand had gotten much; If I have beheld the sun when it shined, Or the moon walking in brightness, And my heart has been secretly enticed, And my mouth has kissed my hand: This also is an iniquity to be punished by the judges; For I should have denied the God that is above (Job 31:24-28).  Many of us are so ignorant of scripture that we miss the references here.  Idols were "kissed" (1 Kings 19:18; Hos 13:2), and here we have someone kissing his own hand, the hand that "had gotten much" or in our words, was responsible for all this person's material blessings.  His wealth was his "confidence" instead of God, and therefore he was worthy of judgment—for idolatry.  He was his own idol.
            If you had one of those Global Vaults, what would you put in it?  Even if you did have one, it won't do a bit of good when the True Cataclysmic Event takes place.  You might as well have put Oreos in it.
 
And he said to them, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” And he told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, ‘What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ And he said, ‘I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God  (Luke 12:15-21).
 
Dene Ward

It is winter, even here in Florida, and we are once again drinking our last cup of coffee by a fire in the mornings, instead of under a fan.  Florida is not always hot.  It's not always even warm, especially in the northern parts.  On February 13, 1899, a Canadian cold front pushed a blast of arctic air into our state in what became known as the Great Arctic Outbreak.  Tallahassee woke to the coldest temperatures ever recorded in Florida, -2 degrees F.  Yes, that's a minus in front of that single digit number.  We have been here in north Florida for other amazing things, like an inch or two of snow on the ground and a white Christmas both in 1989, but never a negative temperature.  I hope we don't experience it any time soon.
            With the first front this winter, I was reminded of a basic fact.  Cool, crisp air behaves differently than hot, humid air.  Hot humid air is also hazy air.  You cannot see as far and the sky is a duller, almost muted, shade of blue.  Cool air is clear.  Even my weak eyes can see farther.  And a clear winter sky is one of the prettiest blues you will ever see.
            Hot humid air will also mute sound.  Not enough that you will notice it in the summer.  You only notice it on a cold morning when suddenly the traffic on the highway a quarter mile through the woods sounds like it might just be coming through the trees right at you.  You can always hear better in the winter.
            And that may very well mean that we need to keep a cool head about us in spiritual matters.  When your spiritual vision is clouded by the heat of emotion, you will inevitably make the wrong decision.  In almost every Bible narrative you will see the difference between wrong-headed emotion and cool, clear logic.  Look at Joseph and Potiphar's wife as a simple example.  Which one was guided by hot, wanton desire and which by a decision based on a cool, careful consideration of right and wrong?  And that process plays out over and over, not only in the Bible, but in our own lives.
            The difficult part of this, at least in a culture so steeped in emotionalism, is teaching these things to our children.  I told mine over and over, you have to be a little cold-blooded when it comes to choosing a spouse.  You have to be willing to ask yourself the hard questions.  Will she be a good mother to my children?  Will she be a help or hindrance in my chosen career?  Are her aims in life the same as mine?  Does she understand a lifetime commitment in the same manner I do?  Will she help me get to Heaven, and will she let me help her?  Too many times I see young ladies who are blinded by love, falling for exactly the wrong guy, and who will not listen to their friends who quite clearly see an emotional, and possibly physical, abuser.  And I see young men who refuse to understand that attraction should come from knowing one another and sharing spiritual ideals, not good looks and shapely figures.
            There are any number of decisions we make in life, some having nothing to do with right and wrong, and some everything, that require clear thinking.  Some things hurt, and hurt badly, but must be done for the good of oneself, one's family, and people we are trying to serve.  Some of those things are things God has said to do.  You would be surprised how many times I have heard God's commands completely dismissed because someone might be "hurt."
            And so, as you notice how clear things appear this winter, remember that a little cold logic can be an excellent thing.  You will see better.  You will hear better.  And you will make far better decisions both for this life and the next.
 
“Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD… (Isa 1:18)
 
Dene Ward

350 years ago America had no holidays.  Go through your calendar and count them all.  Not one of those dates was a holiday back then.  In fact, in New England, celebrating Christmas was illegal.  Go read about Christmas in England that long ago and you will find out why.  It was considered a time to feast, drink, gamble, and fornicate, a holiday based more on Saturnalia than anything focused on family values.  When the Puritans left England, they left all that behind and declared Christmas a day of fasting. 
            By 1800 Christmas was no longer illegal, but it was just as rowdy, or more, as it had been in long ago England, sort of halfway between Spring Break and Mardi Gras, one authority I read said.  The poor, probably egged on by a criminal element, demanded entrance into the homes of those in better financial shape, along with money and food, often stooping so far as vandalism, looting, assault, and rape.  It was evidently like this all through the area.  On Christmas Day 1828, the rioting was so bad that the residents of New York City called for the formation of their first police force.  It wasn't until later in the nineteenth century that Christmas evolved into the family-focused holiday we know it as today.  In fact, it wasn't even declared a federal holiday until 1870. 
           We may think that earlier behavior is beyond us, but let me ask you, have you ever been to a Black Friday Sale?  "Between 2006 and 2018…44 Black Friday incidents in America left 11 dead and 109 injured" (nypost.com).  And sometimes we aren't much better in our own homes.
            I have only seen it once and hope to never again.  We were guests of others on Christmas Day and their method of passing out gifts went like this:  One person starting picking up presents, read the name, passed it to its recipient and continued, about one every five seconds.  In five minutes it was over with.  Everyone else was sitting there panting with exertion amid piles of crumpled wrapping paper and snarled up ribbon, and no one knew who got what from whom.  Meanwhile, my poor boys were still opening up what were far fewer, far less expensive presents, and looking up at the folks around them with a look of befuddlement.  "That's not how it's supposed to be," was clearly written on their faces.
            So how was it supposed to be?  We never had much money growing up, but my mother was still careful to teach us the point of gift-giving—it was to do kind things for others, not amass things for oneself.  She taught us to listen to one another all year long, to make note—sometimes literally—of things different ones of us needed or mentioned wanting, usually something that would make life a little easier.  None of us ever wished for the expensive and unattainable.  What was the point?  And then a couple of weeks before Christmas, the four of us went to the Mall, my sister and I with money carefully saved from our allowances and birthday gifts.  We divided up and I went with my father to buy for my mother and my sister, while she went with our mother to buy for me and our father.  Then we met in the middle of the concourse at a predetermined time and switched companions in order to finish our shopping.  We were usually so excited about what we had gotten each other it was difficult to keep the secret.
            Then on Christmas morning each one in turn got to choose a gift to give to another.  We all sat and watched that person open the gift.  The joy, the excitement, the pleasure on the other person's face was as much a part of the gift to us as the gift to the receiver.  We had very few gifts under that tree, but that gift giving process lasted far longer than our neighbors' who were soon out riding new bikes or scooters and hauling out boxes of trash while we were still sitting there enjoying the process of giving as well as receiving.
            I passed that on to my boys.  We were in the same boat as my parents in their early days—not much money and few gifts.  But they have both told me that choosing the gifts and watching their opening was always their favorite part of Christmas.  I still see that in them as mature adults, looking to give, looking to see to the needs of others, looking for ways to share what they have.  My mother did that for me and she has now done it for them, too, through me.  I think I see it in my grandchildren as well.
            Christmas does not have to be about materialism.  What it does have to be about is this:  It is more blessed to give than to receive, (Acts 20:35).  Don't let your Christmas morning be a feeding frenzy of piranha in the river "Gimme."  Make it a point to take time and savor your gifts to others.  My mother thought that was what it was all about, and that is a gift I truly treasure.
 
Dene Ward

Due to Keith's profound deafness, we have had more than the usual interest in cochlear implants.  The first one was invented by Andre Djourno and Charles Eyries in 1957.  William House also invented one in 1961.  That one was first implanted at Stanford University in 1964.  But these early implants were of limited use.  They could not stimulate different areas of the ear at different times to allow for different frequencies.  Research continued.  The resulting modern multi-channel cochlear implant, which fixed the multiple frequency issues, was first implanted on December 16, 1977, in Vienna by Professor Kurt Burein.  As of 2012, the FDA states that over 324,200 patients have received them. 
          The advantages claimed are improved (though not perfectly normal) hearing, decrease in depression, anxiety and social isolation, and improved verbal communication.  While that sounds great, these things are not for everyone.  Anyone whose deafness is caused by injury to or absence of the auditory nerve cannot be helped.  In addition, it limits things like MRIs on the implant patient's head, which can only be done under very strict guidelines.  And then there is the issue of cost, since not all insurance companies will cover the bill, or will cover only a part of it, leaving a hefty portion for the patient.  Since Keith has already had neurological issues which have required MRIs, it would seem the implant is not for him even if no other problems existed.
          While we might wish things were different for us, did you realize that not everyone wants one of these miracle inventions?  Some of those in the deaf culture consider these things oppression by the hearing world, a form of discrimination, and assault on their personhood.  They are certainly entitled to their own feelings, and I would not for a minute try to tell any one of them what to do and how to live their lives.  None of us should.  But there is another issue—spiritual deafness, people who refuse to listen to God.  Now that needs to be fixed.
           I was thinking about all these things one day last spring as Chloe and I walked out to Magdi’s grave for a few minutes.  The mums we planted there were coming back from the winter’s frost, and the grass around it greening up as well.  As we headed back to the house, I stopped and listened.  I heard crows, wrens, titmice, cardinals, hawks, woodpeckers, chickadees, blue jays, and sparrows, as well as a few I haven’t yet learned to recognize.  The world seemed completely full of tweets, chirps, whistles, warbles, and trills.  These are the things that my poor husband cannot hear, which is even worse than just being deaf, because I consider them another way to hear God, just as surely as if He had spoken out loud.  Who else could have created such diverse and beautiful sounds?  Everything else was manmade and ugly—a semi roaring out on the highway, the neighbor’s leaf blower whining away, another’s raucous lawn mower spitting and sputtering, and still another’s old pickup truck loudly revving.  Now a few of those Keith can actually hear!  Poor guy.
            Then I stopped to think of all the other times I have heard God in my life—the incessant pounding of the waves on the beach; the scream of a hawk diving for its prey; the sound of a little boy’s voice who, less than thirteen years ago, did not exist; my mother’s final breath as she left for a better place.  Anyone who has not heard God in those things, probably does not hear Him in the place where He speaks plainest—His word, for God does not leave His children wondering just exactly what that metaphysical moment they experienced meant for them to do.  He tells them plainly.
            Remember the Day of Pentecost?  Everyone heard “a sound as of a rushing mighty wind” that “filled all the house,” a sound they all recognized as having come “from heaven,” Acts 2:2.  Yet when did they finally know what God wanted them to do?  Only after the apostles spoke.  “Then when they heard this,” they were told exactly what to do, 2:37. 
            When an angel spoke to Cornelius in a vision—an angel, mind you—he certainly heard God, but he was told to send for Peter who would speak “words whereby you shall be saved” 11:14.
            Paul told the Romans “faith comes by hearing and hearing through the word of Christ” 10:17, the same word, the same gospel he proclaimed “the power of God unto salvation” 1:16.
            Yes, it is possible to hear God in the world around you.  If you don’t, you have a remarkably unspiritual mind.  If the roar of the wind and crack of thunder in a storm doesn’t fill you with wonder at the power of an Almighty Creator, you need a few pointed reminders as to the brevity and fragility of life and the temporal nature of the world around you.  But if you really want to know what God wants of you, get out His Word and read it.  Only those who are ready to listen can really hear, and you don't need any sort of implant to do so.
 
Whoever is of God hears the words of God. The reason why you do not hear them is that you are not of God. John 8:47.
 
Dene Ward
 

Boundary disputes once helped win an American presidential election. 
            In 1818, we signed a treaty with Great Britain agreeing to joint ownership of the Oregon Territory.  Citizens from both countries had settled there.  They eventually agreed to a boundary between America and Canada at the 49th parallel.  Then they both got greedy.  The British claimed anything north of the 42nd parallel.  Along came American expansionists who were willing to go to war in order to claim the disputed area up to the 54th 40 parallel for America. 
            Franklin Polk ran on the expansionist platform with the slogan "Fifty-four forty or fight," referring to what is now the southern border of Oregon, fifty four degrees, forty minutes north latitude.  On Dec 4, 1844, after an election that had run since November 1, he won the presidency.  However, he abandoned the fight and left the Oregon Territory boundary at the original line of agreement, the 49th parallel, where it still is today.
            We've had some boundary issues ourselves.  When we first moved onto this land, no one else lived on the parcels anywhere around us.  Everyone else bought for the investment and planned to sell later, and with the titles unclear (except for ours) the plots remained empty for a long time.  With no fences in place, the boys literally had their own version of the Hundred Acre Woods to play in. 
            When the first hard rains showed us how the land around here drained, and that we would soon be washed away if something weren’t done, the owners to the north of us plowed a ditch along that side to help us out.  It was required by law, but they were compliant and even stopped to make sure we were satisfied before their rented equipment went back to the store.  Yes, we were.  The ditch worked fine and we stayed dry.
            We assumed the ditch ran right along the northern edge of the property and used all the land up to it for our garden, for our yard, for flower beds, even for a post to hold guywires for our antenna.  When the land around us began to sell and people moved in, we finally had to put up a fence.  Imagine our surprise when we discovered that we had been using as much as five feet more land along the north boundary than was actually ours.  But of course, the surveyors were correct.  They had sighted along the boundary markers, white posts set on all four corners of our five plus acres.  I even had to dig up half of a lily bed one morning and transplant them elsewhere so they could put the fence along the correct line.
            The Israelites were aware of boundaries and the landmarks that outlined them.  “You shall not move your neighbor's landmark, which the men of old have set, in the inheritance that you will hold in the land that the LORD your God is giving you to possess. Deut 19:14.  It was a matter of honesty and integrity.  “‘Cursed be anyone who moves his neighbor's landmark.’ And all the people shall say, ‘Amen.’ Deut 27:17.  And this is just talking about land.  Imagine if someone moved a landmark that showed something even more important than that.
            The princes of Judah have become like those who move the landmark… Hos 5:10.  The wicked kings of God’s people had blurred the lines between right and wrong, between good and evil.  The standard became which will make me wealthier or more important among my peers, rather than which is right in the eyes of God.  Which is more convenient, which is easier, which do I like the best, which appeals to my lusts?  All of these have been used to move the boundaries of right and wrong in people’s lives for thousands of years.  When the government does it too, we have an instant excuse.  After all, it’s not against the law, is it?
            Do you think it hasn’t happened to us?  What do you accept now that you would never have accepted thirty years ago because you knew that the Bible said it was wrong?  Now people come along and tell you the Bible is a book of myths or the Bible only means what you want it to mean.  They have moved the landmark, and many have accepted it.
            God does not move landmarks.  What He says goes—then and now.  He may have changed the rituals we perform in each dispensation, but basic morality—right and wrong--has not and will not change.  Even Jesus used the argument, “But from the beginning it was not so…” (Matt 19:8). 
            We can move the landmarks all we want, but we will still wind up on the Devil’s property, and God will know the difference, whether we accept it or not.
 
​Do not move an ancient landmark or enter the fields of the fatherless, for their Redeemer is strong; he will plead their cause against you. Prov 23:10-11
 
Dene Ward

I can remember my daddy uttering those very words every time we pulled up to what was then called a “service station,” a glassed-in office with two service bays and usually two gas islands, sporting regular, premium and mid-grade pumps, the older models rounded on the top and the newer ones square-cornered and squat.  An attendant came out of one of the bays, summoned to us by the double-ding of the bell hoses we ran over with both front and rear tires, usually wiping his hands with a greasy blue rag, and did the honors while we sat in the car waiting.  He also checked the water in the radiator and battery, and cleaned the windshields.  When the pump kicked off, he carefully finished filling the tank and then bent his head to the open window to tell us the amount we owed.  If we paid cash, he brought back change.  If we used our gas company credit card, he took it and ran it, bringing back a dark blue clipboard with slip attached and a pen for a signature.
            The first drive-in gas station similar to that one, opened in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on December 1, 1913.  According to Smithsonian Magazine it sat on the corner of Baum Boulevard and St Clair Street.  Before that drivers pumped gas from curbside pumps beginning in 1905, or bought gasoline in cans from pharmacies and blacksmith shops.  This new full service station in Pittsburgh offered free air and water, and a few basic maintenance services for crankcases and tires.  This station was opened by the Gulf Refining Company, which would have made my daddy proud to know since he worked for that company most of his adult life.
            Back to the station I sat in as a child, we never left the car, never lifted a finger.  It was all done for us.  Maybe that’s why we seem to expect God to “fill ‘er up” without having to make any effort at all ourselves.  Maybe that’s what we’re thinking when we sit in our pews on Sunday morning—we’re expecting the teachers, song leaders, and preachers to “fill ‘her up.” 
            “I didn’t get anything out of services this morning,” we say, as if that were the only purpose to our being there, to allow others to wait on us just like an attendant at an old-fashioned service station; as if that were the only possible way to fill oneself up spiritually.
            Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled, Matt 5:6.  Do we really think that righteousness can be poured in like gasoline, that we can sit passively while it happens?
            John tells us, Whoever practices righteousness is righteous, 1 John 3:7.  Being filled with righteousness has far more to do with what I do anywhere else besides a church building than it does with listening to a sermon and expecting to walk away holy because of it.
            God also expects us to fill ourselves with knowledge.  Anyone who thinks that comes from osmosis on Sunday mornings as we doze in our pews or play with the babies in front of us had better not apply for a school teaching job any time soon. You won’t keep it long.
            Paul says, And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God, Colossians 1:9-10.  Becoming knowledgeable takes work far above and beyond listening to a couple hours a week of sermons and Bible classes.  Making it stick means applying what you learn, “bearing fruit” as you put that knowledge into practice.
            But others have the problem of which tank to use.  They seem satisfied with “regular.”  Since my daddy worked for Gulf, we always went to Gulf stations.  “Regular” was called “Good Gulf” and premium was called “Gulftane,” a play on the fact that the octane was higher.  A soul created in the image of God requires nothing less than premium.
            I read a book once in which the writer was at a loss to know how to refill herself after giving so much to marriage, children, and society.  Her problem was thinking she could do it herself, with things that have no eternal existence and purpose.  She was trying to fill up on “regular.”   Christians know better.
            May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope, Romans 15:13.
            “Fill ‘er up,” we used to say to the gas attendant.  Far more important, we should say it to God, and then do our part as He fills us to the brim.  It’s the only way to keep your life from running on empty.
 
And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God, Philippians 1:9-11.
 
Dene Ward

Although I found more than one date in several different sources, finally I saw in a post from the Library of Congress, a photo of a notice for the trial of the British soldiers involved in what the American colonists referred to as the Boston Massacre.  With a little magnification, one can clearly see the date:  November 27, 1770.  Those eight men had been held in jail for seven months once the murder charges were filed.
            Most of us learned about that event in high school history classes, including the name of at least one of the men killed, Crispus Attucks.  But do we really know what happened?  The actual trial transcript still exists, and therefore the testimony of all those involved, including a deathbed statement by a colonist who was shot but lingered a bit before he died.  He stated that he understood why the soldiers fired.  Somehow, no one gave me that tidbit in high school.
            The times were already tense and edgy.  An eleven year old boy had been accidentally killed by an American when he entered his yard at night, evidently acting suspiciously.  Then on March 5, 1770, a lone British sentry was standing guard in Boston.  A group of colonists either led by or incited by a group called the Sons of Liberty began heckling him.  Before long, snowballs were thrown.  Captain Thomas Preston heard about what was going on and fearful of how the situation might escalate, gathered eight men and went to his sentry's defense.
            The situation did indeed escalate.  The crowd grew larger and the snowballs became chunks of ice and oyster shells.  The colonists crowded in until one soldier was separated from the others and hemmed in by a wall.  Finally his elbow was jostled and fearing that the worst was about to happen, he fired.  Another soldier hearing the shot, assumed the order to fire had been given and that in the shouting he had not heard it, so he fired, too.  According to the trial notice, five colonists were killed.  The British soldiers were charged with murder.
            John Adams led the defense.  Yes, one of the Founding Fathers, the second president of the United States of America, and the cousin of Samuel Adams who is thought to have founded and led the Sons of Liberty, defended the British soldiers involved in the Boston Massacre.  Why would he do such a thing?  Because, he said, it was about law and justice and whether the upstart new country that many were hoping for, would begin their claim of liberty and justice for all with a failure in exactly that regard.
            And so the trial began.  Witness after witness reported the facts, unadorned with the passion and emotion that fed the mob that night, including the deathbed statement given by the doctor on behalf of the slain man, one exception to the hearsay ban in courtrooms.  Then Adams patiently, and completely, led the jury through the law, including the definition of murder, which involved "malice."
            Captain Preston and six of his men were found "not guilty" of murder.  The other two soldiers, the two who had fired, were found guilty of manslaughter rather than murder.  The people of Boston were somewhat confused, but they accepted the verdict without demonstration of any kind.  America had passed its first test, five and a half years before it even became a country.
            Isn't a fair judgment what we want from God?
            But the LORD sits enthroned forever; he has established his throne for justice, and he judges the world with righteousness; he judges the peoples with uprightness  (Ps 9:7-8).
            Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it! Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy before the LORD, for he comes, for he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness, and the peoples in his faithfulness (Ps 96:11-13).
            ​The King in his might loves justice. You have established equity; you have executed justice and righteousness in Jacob (Ps 99:4).
            God is a fair and righteous Judge.  The Psalms are filled with praise for his justice.  But when it comes right down to it, fair is not really want we want from God, folks.  If God were being fair, we wouldn't stand a chance.  On the scales of justice, nothing we do can counterbalance the weight of our sin.  Our salvation does not come from equity but from mercy. 
            It's a downright shame when a Christian faces a downturn in his life, no matter how severe, and shouts, "This isn't fair!"  Our salvation certainly is not fair to either God, who gave His Son, or Christ, who made the sacrifice.  Stop talking about fair because if suddenly you received fairness, you would never again experience anything good in your life at all as the evil simply overwhelmed and crushed you.  Now that would be fair.
            Somehow, in America, we still believe in fair trials.  That's the way it's supposed to be.  But be careful what you wish for on Judgment Day.
 
But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away (Isa 64:6).
 
Dene Ward        

On November 4, 1922, Howard Carter discovered the entrance to King Tut's tomb.  He had been looking for six years and his patron, George Herbert, the 5th Earl of Carnarvon, was about ready to call it off.  But then, in the debris of the tomb of Ramses VI in the Valley of the Kings, Carter and his crew found it—the burial place of the eighteen year old Pharaoh Tutankhamen.  Carter closed off the entrance and cabled his benefactor, waiting for his arrival before finally entering the tomb with him on November 26, 1922. 
            And what a tomb it was, full of all sorts of earthly treasures, including a stone sarcophagus containing three nested coffins.  Inside the final one of solid gold lay the embalmed mummy of the boy king.  The interior rooms also contained life-size gold figures of animals and gods, a large golden bed, alabaster cups, chariots, and an ornate throne.  The pictures show items thrown or shoved in, and stacked against walls willy-nilly, as if no one really ever expected to use them again, either here or in the world beyond. 
            All of this brought to mind another tomb.  Unlike King Tut's tomb, the one the disciples found was empty, even though well guarded.  It was not full of earthly treasure, just burial clothes.  Things were not thrown in helter-skelter, but Simon Peter therefore also came, following him, and entered into the tomb; and he beheld the linen cloths lying, and the napkin, that was upon his head, not lying with the linen cloths, but rolled up in a place by itself. (John 20:6-7)
            And why does any of that matter?
            First, the empty tomb was in Jerusalem, right where Christianity began, right where anyone could go and look for themselves and see that it was indeed empty.
            Second, the first witnesses were women.  While that does not strike a chord with us particularly, in those days, if you were planting witnesses and paying them off, the last people you would choose would be women.  Here are some of the prevailing views of women in first century Palestine:

But let not the testimony of women be admitted, on account of the levity and boldness of their sex, nor let servants be admitted to give testimony on account of the ignobility of their soul; since it is probable that they may not speak truth, --Josephus

Any evidence which a woman [gives] is not valid (to offer), also they are not valid to offer. This is equivalent to saying that one who is Rabbinically accounted a robber is qualified to give the same evidence as a woman. — Talmud (Rosh Hashannah)

Sooner let the words of the Law be burnt than delivered to women. — Talmud (Sotah)
            It may set my teeth on edge, but that is the way it was, and that fact strongly argues for the reality of the empty tomb.
           
            Third, all those carefully recorded details given by John about the burial clothes speak of an eyewitness account.  Anyone who has dealt with witnesses before—attorneys, judges, policemen, even my probation officer husband—recognizes that the more details are given, the more likely the truth is being told.
            Fourth, the authorities had to make up a story to cover up what really happened.  Now while they were going, behold, some of the guard came into the city, and told unto the chief priests all the things that were come to pass. And when they were assembled with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave much money unto the soldiers, saying, Say, His disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept. And if this comes to the governor's ears, we will persuade him, and rid you of care. So they took the money, and did as they were taught: and this saying was spread abroad among the Jews, and continues until this day. (Matt 28:11-15)
            This isn't even half the evidence.  The facts about the stone over the tomb would take up two or three pages, and another few for the couple hundred pounds of spices those burial clothes were wrapped and wrapped and wrapped in.  But let this little history nugget be a reminder to you of a tomb that really matters.  Not the magnificent tomb of a king that people forgot for centuries, but the one you have your hope set on, the one that means that you, too, will someday live forever with the very King who lay in that tomb, and rose again to reign over a more magnificent kingdom than ancient Egyptians ever even imagined.
 
Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified about God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. (1Cor 15:12-21).
 
Dene Ward

Benjamin Franklin was one of the most amazing men who ever lived.  Besides being one of the founding fathers of America, he was a printer, publisher, author, inventor, scientist, and diplomat.  He began writing his own autobiography in 1771, many years before his death in 1790, and never finished it.  It exists in four parts, the final part being the shortest and not begun until a few months before he died. 
           The publication of that book has a long and complex history.  An English version was published in 1793 but that was a year after both a German and Swedish version had been published.  Also, that English version was a translation of a French translation of the original English, which means that being doubly translated, Franklin's original intention in the words was likely "lost in translation."  So how did we get that French translation?  On November 13, 1789, Franklin himself sent a copy to his friend Louis Guillaume Le Veillard.  In 1791, Franklin's grandson, William Temple Franklin, traded the final manuscript he owned for that original.  Meanwhile, Veillard had already had it translated, and that translation was purchased by the Library of Congress in 1908 (www.loc.gov).
          Today, consider a portion of that autobiography dealing with the invention of the Franklin stove, which Franklin himself considered one of his more important inventions.  In those days, most homes were heated by fireplaces.  Anyone who has tried to do that understands that most of the heat goes right up the chimney.  In addition people were dying every year due to the hazards of fireplaces, and on top of that, Pennsylvania was experiencing a wood shortage. 
           Ben Franklin tackled all those issues by creating a freestanding fireplace that burned wood efficiently, using less wood and producing more heat with less danger.  The first Franklin stove was called a Pennsylvania Fireplace, and though its original model was not perfect, it was the precursor of today's wood stoves and fireplace inserts.  Although he was offered one, he refused to patent it stating in his autobiography, "That as we enjoy great advantages from the inventions of others, we should be glad of an opportunity to serve others by an invention of ours…"
             We installed an insert in our fireplace when we lived in South Carolina for three years.  The difference in the heating value between it and a fireplace was like night and day.  Now I live in Florida but up here in North Florida we still have a little bit of winter.  Usually on cold nights, we fill up our freestanding Ashley woodstove, which burns out by morning and we don’t need any more till the next night, or maybe not for a few nights, depending upon the vagaries of cold fronts.  Sometimes, though, I have had to keep that fire burning all day, adding a log or two every couple of hours.  You see, if you let it burn down too far, it goes out.  Even adding wood will do you no good if the coals are no longer glowing.
            Sometimes we let our souls go out.  Instead of stoking the fire, adding fuel as needed, we seem to think we can start it up at will and as needed, with just a single match I suppose.  Try holding a match to a log—a real log, not a manufactured pressed log with some sort of lighter fluid soaked into it.  You will find that you cannot even get it to smoke before the match dies.  Starting a fire anew takes a whole lot more effort than just keeping the old one going.
            God has a plan that keeps the fire going.  He has made us a spiritual family.  He commands us to assemble on a weekly basis.  He has given us a regular memorial feast to partake of.  He has given us his Word to read any time we want to.  He will listen to us any time of the day.  And perhaps, knowing how he has made us, that is why those songs he has given us keep going round in our heads all week—words at the ready to help us overcome and to remind us who we are.  All of these things will keep the fire from dying.  Just as those people who actually saw and heard Jesus on a daily basis said, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?" Luke 23:32, his voice can come to us through the Word, through the teaching in our assemblies, and through the brothers and sisters he has given us.
            Once a month attendance won’t keep the fire burning.  Seeing our spiritual family only at the meetinghouse will not stoke the fires of brotherly love.  Picking up our Bibles only when we dust the coffee table won’t blow on the embers enough to keep them glowing.  Sooner or later my heart will grow cold, and no one will be able to light a big enough match to get it warm again. 
            Our God is a consuming fire, and he expects that to be exactly what happens to us—for us to become consumed with him and his word and his purpose.  Nothing else should matter as much. 
            Take a moment today to open up that woodstove of a heart and see how the fire looks.  Throw in another log before the fire goes out. 
 
My heart became hot within me. As I mused, the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue: "O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am! Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing before you. Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath! Selah.  Surely a man goes about as a shadow! Surely for nothing they are in turmoil; man heaps up wealth and does not know who will gather! And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you. Psalm 39:3-7.
 
Dene Ward