I have a feeling that some of Bella and Chloe’s playtime might have been a little unsettling to Bella’s youngest master.  Young wild animals learn survival skills through play—how to hunt and how to fight.  Even domesticated animals learn some of these things.  Puppies always engage in rough and tumble play, including baby nips and growls.  Chloe and Bella did the same, and being larger and older, it looked much fiercer.
            Teeth bared, growls ferocious, their muzzles tilted back and forth as if trying to find the best place to lock onto one another.  Larger Bella ran at Chloe and broadsided her, sending her rolling, then pounced on top.  In seconds, more experienced Chloe had her legs wrapped around Bella and flipped her over, like a wrestler reversing a pin.  Sometimes they ran headlong into one another like charging bulls and as they met, the saliva flew in all directions.  I learned to stand way back.
            How did I know this wasn’t real, that it was simply an older dog teaching a younger through play?  Because they never drew blood.  If you watched their mouths, neither ever closed tightly on the other dog’s body anywhere.  And when they finished, they stood panting for a few moments, energy spent, both tongues dangling toward the ground, looking at one another.  Often they would touch noses, then walk shoulder to shoulder back to the shade, Chloe under the truck and Bella under a tree—lesson for the day over.
            I remember a time when brethren could discuss things, even differing views on a passage, and each come away having learned something.  They could trust one another, not only to have each other’s best interest at heart, but also to listen and consider fairly, and never to become angry.  Even if voices rose, no blood was drawn, spiritually speaking, respect continued, and both left with more knowledge and insight.
            What has happened to us?  If someone disagrees with me, it makes me mad or it hurts my feelings, and either way I don’t like him any more.  It is no longer about learning and growing—it about winning arguments and putting people down.  Instead of being able to trust a person because he is a brother, one must try to find a brother he can trust, and it isn’t easy.  That’s not just a shame, it’s a tragedy.  If a man say, I love God, and hates his brother, he is a liar: for he that loves not his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment have we from him, that he who loves God love his brother also. 1 John 4:20-21
            God meant us to learn and grow together, honing our skills and building one another up.  It might make us occasional sparring partners, but in that sparring we learn how to handle the word more accurately, we learn how to defeat the gainsayers who deny the Lord, and the false teachers who might be after our souls.  And after that sparring match, we “touch gloves” and leave with our love and respect intact.
            At least that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
 
Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17
 
Dene Ward

We had a second stint of puppysitting recently and this time Chloe adapted more quickly.  By the end of the first day, she and now six month old Bella were romping together in the field.  Chloe was still the boss and called the shots—including the play schedule—but play they did, especially in the evenings when Chloe would crawl out from under the porch, stretch, look over her shoulder at Bella and scamper off with a toss of the head—an open invitation to “catch me if you can.”
            Bella also came with us when I gave Chloe her morning walk around the property.  Chloe usually accompanies me in a steady trot, stopping here and there to sniff at an armadillo hole or a depression at the bottom of the fence where a possum makes its nightly excursions.  Bella preferred to run everywhere, usually in the meandering lines of Billy, the little boy in the Family Circus comic.  Then when she suddenly looked up and found herself behind, she would come bulling her way past us in a brown blur.
            It was one of those times that particular morning and I heard her overtaking us like a buffalo stampede.  The path at that point was narrow, just room for me, my two walking sticks, and Chloe.  As Bella drew near, I just happened to be looking down when she very neatly leapfrogged over Chloe without disturbing a fur on her head.  In a few seconds she was around the bend and out of sight.
            I wonder how many we leapfrog over every day and leave in the dust behind us because we’re too impatient to wait, too unconcerned to care, too impulsive to even notice?  Sometimes the young with their new ideas, scriptural though they may be, have too little respect for the old warriors who need time to consider and be sure.  Sometimes the more knowledgeable become too arrogant to slow their pace for the babes or those whose capacity may not be as deep.  Sometimes the strong forget that God expects them to help the weak, the ill, the faltering.  All these people are just obstacles in our way, things to get past in our rush.
            When you leapfrog over a brother and leave him behind, how do you know he will make it?  God didn’t expect us to walk the path alone.  He meant for us to walk it together.  When you lack the love to walk it with your brother, you may as well not walk it at all.
 
Now we that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each one of us please his neighbor for that which is good, unto edifying. For Christ also pleased not himself; but, as it is written, The reproaches of them that reproached thee fell upon me. Romans 15:1-3.
 
Dene Ward

We are puppysitting for some friends, a four month old chocolate lab named Bella.  She is already taller than our full-grown Australian cattle dog, though not as heavy, a long-legged gangly dog still with a puppy mindset—which means faster is better than slower, all things are meant to be chewed upon, and play time is the only time. 
            Chloe, on the other hand, is middle-aged, 6½, or about 45 in dog years.  To her the best things in the world are a belly scratch, a chewy treat, and a nap, and one of the worst things in the world is a puppy being foisted upon her carefully controlled domain.  She learned quickly that Bella has difficulty getting under the truck—something about all those long knobby leg bones getting in the way—so she spends the vast majority of her day there while Bella roams about being a curious puppy.  Someone I know well has learned not to leave things lying about outside if he doesn’t want them ventilated with puppy-teeth holes, something I consider an unexpected benefit to Bella’s visit.
            Chloe is not a purely sedentary lap dog, though.  She enjoys nosing around some, and will run back and forth to the gate to greet us.  She walks around the property with me and often leaves me in the dust when she spies something interesting in the corner woods.  Bella is walking with us now.  Her nose is always in the air, and her ears cocked for any sounds that might drift our way—one neighbor’s baying bloodhound and the other’s crowing rooster, for example.  But she doesn’t listen long.  As soon as she determines the direction, she is off in a shot while Chloe listens a bit more, making a studied determination about whether the sound needs investigating or not.
            Bella thinks everything is a game.  She has no ability to distinguish when it’s time to be serious.  Chloe will stop for a drink and Bella will be all over her, standing in the water, stepping on the edge of the pan, causing it to tilt and spilling the water everywhere.  When a frog jumps in the old tubs Keith uses to soak his hickory wood for smoking meat, she jumps right in after it, NOT looking before she leaps, landing belly deep with a splash.  Reminds me of the puppy we had once who thought the rattlesnake next to the woodpile was a toy and tried to play with it.  We managed to get him away before he was bitten, but when we left for a camping trip, the neighbor found him one morning with fang marks in his neck.  Lucky for him, the skin there was loose and that’s all the snake got, not the muscle in his neck.
            Yet despite their own preferences, both of these dogs are adapting.  Chloe finally learned to quit running away and stand up for herself.  After a nip or two on the nose, Bella knows who the boss is now and she will actually “bow” before Chloe, lowering her height by crouching on her belly in front of her.  Chloe will now stand nose to nose with her, sniffing, and then suddenly take off in a run, looking behind to make sure Bella is chasing her.  Bella has learned to be a little more discreet and Chloe has learned that fun is still—well, fun, and it’s worth having some once in awhile.
            Older and younger people—older and younger Christians, no matter their physical age—need to learn from one another in the same way.  We teach our children not to go running down the halls, especially among older people who have issues with balance and might be knocked over.  A fall for the elderly could easily lead to a broken bone, and how many broken bones have led to a fatal case of pneumonia?  That’s not something a child would ever think of, which is why the adults must teach them.  In the same way, babes in Christ mustn’t go running helter-skelter down our spiritual halls with no concern about the fragile souls we might encounter.  Yet, the older ones need to learn that we must go out into those halls and encounter those souls, not sit quietly and safely in our pews.
            The younger must learn the need for wisdom and discretion and the value of quiet reverence, but the older must learn that “emotion” is not a four letter word. 
            The younger must learn respect for those they label “nay-sayers.”  They must realize that those old “fuddy-duddy” cautions come from concern for their younger souls’ safety and good, not from cowardice or a lack of faith.  The older must remind themselves that God called them to take a risk, to exercise their faith not to sit in dusty rooms discussing it.
            The younger in the faith and the older in the faith—we learn from each other, but not if we’re too busy putting one another down, refusing to listen to one another, with attitudes full of disrespect and disdain. 
 
The glory of young men is their strength, but the beauty of old men is their gray hair, Prov 20:29.
 
Dene Ward

On February 1, 1960, four students from North Carolina A & T staged a sit-in at the whites-only lunch counter in a Greensboro, North Carolina, Woolworth's.  It was not the first sit-in, but it was the first time that students had been able to make a difference.  Before, Civil Rights had been considered something for "grown-ups."  By April that year, 70 southern cities had experienced sit-ins, a direct result of this one. 
            I wonder if the feelings of people then were similar to the time when word came to Jerusalem about Peter preaching to Cornelius, the first Gentile convert (Acts 10).  They certainly took him to task in chapter 11.  By the end of that explanation, Antioch was preaching to Gentiles and welcoming them to the fold right and left (Acts 11:19-23).  All of a sudden the "status quo" had changed, and the ones "in power" were not so happy about it.
            What we fail to understand is the great divide between Jew and Gentile.  Gentiles were considered unclean and called "dogs."  Jews believed they were the favored race and that salvation could only come from them.  They went out of their way to avoid doing business with Gentiles, eating with them, or socializing with them.  Gentiles thought Jews were strange because of their belief in monotheism, and knowing their utter disdain for them, hated them in return.  We think the racial divide in our country was bad, this was many times worse.  When a Jew married a Gentile, the family held a funeral for him.  He was dead as far as they were concerned.
            But God had stated from the beginning, even as He was forming His chosen people from whom the Messiah would come, that this would be a blessing "to all nations" (Gen 22:18).  ("Goy" by the way is the Yiddish word for Gentile, and it means "nation.")  That promise continues throughout Genesis and is picked up by the prophets, more times than I can even list.  Isaiah said all nations would flow into "the mountain of the Lord's house" (2:2).  Micah repeats part of this prophecy almost verbatim (4:1-3).  Isaiah also promises that all those who had formerly been considered unclean will be accepted into Jehovah's house, for my house shall be a house of prayer for all peoples (50:1-8).
            Jesus gave hints of this unification during his ministry, clear enough that the Pharisees once remarked, God forbid! (Luke 20:16).  And before he left this world his instructions clearly underlined God's original intent, Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature, Mark 16:15.
            God expects all of us, whatever nation, whatever race, to meet together as one body.  I would hate to be one of those in the past who forbade a certain race to come into the assembly of the saints.  What do we think?  That God will have a "Jews only" or "whites only" section roped off in Heaven?  When we sing with our children, "Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight," we should have a congregation that shows them exactly that—all nations accepted into the house of God.  This acceptance goes both ways—not just one side to the other, each one of us acting with perfect love and humility.  None of us is any better than the other in the sight of our Creator—who made us all.
 
And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd (John 10:16).
 
Dene Ward
 

I imagine everyone has, by the time they reach my age, had some sort of physical therapy.  Sometimes it is needed after an injury, sometimes after surgery, sometimes because of a physical condition or illness.  If you have had a good experience with physical therapy, you know that it hurts, but that the hurt eventually reduces the pain.  If you have ever done any sort of strength training, that should make sense to you.  After a work-out your muscles might be sore, but soon you can do more with less soreness.  In order to strengthen a muscle, you simply must cause it some stress.  If I refuse physical therapy because "it hurts," sooner or later I won't be able to move at all.
            I keep doing the physical therapy exercises I was given 20 years ago.  That is why I can still walk.  Anyone who has had severe back pain knows that it effects every single part of your life.  No one moves anything, except maybe their pinkie finger, without aid from the back one way or the other.  When we first moved to Tampa, things were so unsettled with unpacking, finding new doctors, and having men in the house renovating practically every inch of it, that I did not do my exercises for about 6 months.  And my back knew it.  It took a couple of months to get things back in order.  And whenever I have even missed a couple of days due to traveling or illness, that little twinge in my lower back tells me it's time to get back to work! 
            I do one exercise that stretches out my back in a particularly strong way.  I feel the pull when I lean over.  It hurts, but I have grown to think of it as a "good" hurt because when I sit up straight afterward, the "real" pain is gone.  Keith has a spot just under his left shoulder blade that hurts due to a bullet wound.  When I feel around in there, I can feel the knot.  When I rub it he usually winces and grunts a few times, but afterward, he always says, "That's so much better."  I am sure you get the point by now.
            May I suggest that the same is true of "spiritual therapy?"  Studying to better oneself often hurts as we begin to see faults we have ignored.  Sometimes it hurts so much that we just blind ourselves to what we see.  James describes something similar:  But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing (Jas 1:22-25).
            And then there are the "wounds" that a brother can inflict with rebukes, reproaches, or sometimes just an exhortation.  No matter how carefully he words it, it will not be any fun to listen to, any more than physical therapy is fun.  Yet, a real friend often knows best what we need to hear at the moment, and if his friendship is true, he will rub those sore spots until they grow better. Faithful are the wounds of a friend; But the kisses of an enemy are profuse (Prov 27:6).   Too often we prefer the flattery, and our souls will suffer even greater pain if we give in to that preference.
            So give yourself some spiritual therapy today.  You will feel all the better for it, and be in better spiritual shape too.
 
Let a righteous man strike me—it is a kindness; let him rebuke me—it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it… (Ps 141:5).
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
John 3:22-24  "After this, Jesus and his disciples went into the Judean countryside. He spent some time there with them and began baptizing.  John was also baptizing in Aenon, near Salim, because there was plenty of water there. People kept coming and were being baptized, since John had not yet been thrown into prison."
         After His interview with Nicodemus, Jesus took His disciples and went out into the Judean countryside to preach the good news.  John was also preaching, at Aenon.  Most modern maps try to place this, but all indicate that they aren't sure exactly where it was.  The only consensus seems to be that it was NOT in Judea.  So, John and Jesus were not together when they taught.
 
John 3:25-26  "Now a discussion arose between some of John's disciples and a Jew over purification.  And they came to John and said to him, 'Rabbi, he who was with you across the Jordan, to whom you bore witness—look, he is baptizing, and all are going to him.'"
         At first glance it seems odd that John never tells us exactly what the dispute was and how or why it so affected the Baptizer's disciples.  Upon consideration, however, one wonders if it isn't very clear.  They argued about purification, or washing, and then complained to John that everyone was going after Jesus' baptism -- instead of John's.  The argument seems to have been about the relative worth of each baptism.  John's disciples were left shaken and upset; outraged for John and confused in themselves.  Everyone was following Jesus and John was being forgotten.

John 3:27-30  "John answered, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven.  You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before him.’  The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom's voice. Therefore this joy of mine is now complete.  He must increase, but I must decrease.” 
         John's response is a marvel of humility and faith in God.  In saying that we can't receive anything unless it is given from heaven, John is calming his disciples by reminding them that this is all according to God's plan.  He reminds them that he has said all along that someone greater was coming and now there is someone greater here.  This is not a cause for alarm, but rejoicing which leads to his next statement.  In this micro-parable John paints a familiar scene:  a wedding.  None of the groomsmen are jealous of the bride, instead they are just happy for the groom.  John was not the leading man in the drama of his life.  After his short role was over he wasn't even able to share the spotlight, but John was happy to play his role for the glory of another.  "He must increase, but I must decrease."  Surely this is self-sacrificing service.

         God's plan for us is not guaranteed to bring us fame and recognition here on earth.  Maybe the best way for us to serve is by helping to care for the ill and needy:  making phone calls, sending cards, preparing meals, doing chores for those who can't for themselves and just sitting and talking to those whose illnesses have left them shut in, alternately weeping or rejoicing with them.  None of this is as showy as preaching or leading the singing, but it is often more important and impactful in making our churches into familes. 

Matt. 11:11  "Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist."
         Elijah and Elisha raised the dead, preached to kings, commanded the weather, and stopped armies cold.  Daniel saw visions of centuries of future history and the coming kingdom.  Isaiah saw God on His throne and His Messiah coming.  Great as all these men were, as showy as their service was, none were greater than John, who in his humble service proclaimed the Lord's message and then quietly stepped out of the spotlight. 
         Am I willing to submerge my life -- my plans, dreams, hopes -- into quiet, unnoticed service to God?  Are you?
 
John 3:31  "He who comes from above is above all."
 
Lucas Ward

     I have been in waiting rooms a lot lately.  When you have a rare condition, you tend to be there more often and when your doctor treats only the difficult cases, the wait is longer—the corporation tends to schedule appointments much more closely than he can possibly keep up with in a timely manner—in this case, every 10 minutes.  So I regularly sit two to three hours before I even see the man, but when I finally do, he is friendly, good-natured, but serious about my problem and gives me all the attention he thinks I require, which has been up to an hour.  So he gets even more behind because of me.
     I was in that waiting room recently, along with about two dozen others.  It tends to get more and more crowded as the day wears on and the doctors lag more and more behind.  Across the room a young child, maybe 3, was obviously tired of waiting.  He was out of his chair, whining, and stamping around on his little red sneaker clad feet.  His father sat on one side and his mother on the other.  Each parent was busy with a phone.  In fact, the mother also had her laptop open.  All they did was hiss at him to be quiet and sit still and immediately return to their devices.  He was three years old!  He had been sitting fairly still for at least 20 minutes!  What did they expect?
     Parents!  Please put your phones away.  Do it right now just to prove that you can!  But more than that, put it down and pay attention to what is going on with your children.  I have no doubt you will have plenty of time to look at the thing sometime during the day, but being a parent to your children is the most important part of your day, not being a parent to your phone.  That is exactly how it looks sometimes—like the phone needs more care than the child.
     I am not unsympathetic.  My poor boys have sat with me for hours in waiting rooms because grandparents lived hundreds of miles away and we could not afford babysitters and food for them and eye medicine for me.  I did not expect them to sit absolutely still and quiet.  We took bags of Matchbox cars, books, and favorite stuffed animals.  Occasionally we all played together, but usually they did fine with each other.  I also had a couple of non-messy snacks for them, and bottles of water or juice.  When time became long, I told the receptionist I would be in the parking lot should they call me, and we went out to walk around and explore so they could get some fresh air and enough exercise to kill the antsy-ness.  The people in the office were always understanding and complimented them when finally we left.   Most of the time, all your children want is a little attention.  They want to know they matter to you. And then they can be happy by themselves a little while longer.
     I walk past mothers in the supermarket who are looking at their phones, or even talking on them.  A few times the child in the seat of the cart was about to stand up and reach for something and mom had no idea until I pointed.  Once, I was ready to make a mad dash to catch a falling child even if the mother was far closer than I was.  Put down your phone.  If it's someone who really matters, who is truly a friend, they will understand.  Talk to your children.  Listen to your children. 
      I have about had it with moms and their "me time."  When you decided to take on the privilege of raising a soul to God, you sacrificed a lot of things, including regular "me time."  Please don't resent it, don't resent the children who are causing it.  In a few very short years they will be gone, and what will they remember of their childhood and their parents?  Watching them look at their phone all the time?  Trying to ask a question only to be met with, "Shhhh," over and over?  Needing a hug and getting a glare instead?
     Think of it this way:  you are learning to be the servant God wants you to be.  Suddenly, you won't be spending an hour putting on make-up when you go out.  You will find that instead of shopping for yourself, you are spending the available income shopping for children who outgrow clothes faster than ice cream melts in a Florida summer.  By the time those precious souls have left you, you will have grown into exactly the kind of servant God wants you to be, still serving others, even looking for ways to serve others, because you have finally grown up spiritually and understand the secret of true happiness—serving others, not self and certainly  not a phone.
     That won't happen if you look at your phone longer and more often than you focus on your child.  Nothing on that contraption is more important than they are. 

And he said unto them, Set your heart unto all the words which I testify unto you this day, which ye shall command your children to observe to do, even all the words of this law. For it is no vain thing for you; because it is your life…(Deuteronomy 32:46-47).

Dene Ward

I was "raised in the church" as we are wont to say.  It may not be a completely accurate way of expressing it, but we all know what it means.  My parents were Christians and I have been in a meetinghouse with the saints since I was old enough to be carried there.  I grew up going to Bible classes and memorized all the lists—the books of the Bible, the apostles, the judges, the sons of Jacob, etc.  And I grew up hearing various proof texts so often I could recite them to friends at school.  I will not demean any of that because, frankly, I wonder if I would have ever heard the Gospel any other way in our culture.  In fact, I know others who heard it the same way I did, but who left it as soon as they were adults.  That should tell us something—there is more to it than hearing it all of your life.  You have to see it every day in the ones who teach you and I certainly did.
            As I have grown older and more versed in the Scriptures, especially the context of passages I have always used completely out of context, I have come to a deeper understanding of things.  Some of those things might cause others to squint their eyes in consternation or even be ready to denounce my being a "true" Christian.  But really, if they would seek the context of who and what I am after all these years, surely they would be more charitable—or maybe not.  That is one thing I have realized over the years—we are not only uncharitable to people, we sometimes go out looking for things to be uncharitable about.  We are ready for a fight with anyone, even those who do not wish to participate in one.
            Remember this passage?  For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says Jehovah (Isa 55:8).  Of course you do.  Like me, you have probably used it to counter any and everyone who does not agree with us on any and every issue.  That is not what that passage is talking about.  Look at the immediate context.  My ESV uses the heading "The Compassion of the Lord" at the beginning of Isaiah 55.  Of course it is Messianic and is talking about the kingdom to come, which will no longer be Jewish only, but will contain peoples of all nations.  "Nations" is what the Jews called Gentiles, just as "goy" is the Yiddish word for Gentile and literally means "nations."  Verse 5 begins ​ Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know, and a nation that did not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, and of the Holy One of Israel… (Isa 55:5).  And in that context we have this:  Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. ​For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isa 55:6-9).  The higher thoughts God has are thoughts of mercy and forgiveness.  Ours are so often judgmental, even damning, instead.
            Before anyone jumps in, I do realize that this context also includes repentance (verse 7), but I have seen us set ourselves up as judge of whether even that is sincere or not.  We go on and on about whether a deathbed confession will work, about whether someone who has failed more than once in the same way truly means it "this time."  I passed on the good news of an apology once only to have it snorted at because "she didn't really mean it" when the "snorter" wasn't even there to hear it.  Unlike our Father, who is anxious and ready to forgive, who looks down the road hoping to see his lost child return, we are all too ready to chuck anything that doesn't meet our own specifications as a confession, a repentance, or an apology.
            I was taught all my life that it was wrong to think God could ever save anyone who was a sinner.  Why it took me decades to figure out that if such were the case it would mean not a single one of us, not even those of us who think we are doing fairly well, could be saved either, I am not sure.  Not a single Bible hero, as we call them, was without sin.  Some were pretty awful, in fact.  But because God is the one who decides these things, and His thoughts are higher than ours, we find that they are among the saved, the forgiven.  Look at the sermons in Acts.  Look at Hebrews 11 and Romans 4 and so many other places where those people are used as examples we should follow.
            And because of that, I am willing to pray for mercy toward those many would tell me I have no right to pray for.  If I am to have thoughts like my Father's shouldn't I do that?  Or will we continue to be so far beneath His thought processes that we pray for judgment instead?  Perhaps that is why so many of us think we have no chance at salvation unless we see death coming and can shoot off a fast prayer for forgiveness.  But even that proves we understand the point—God forgives when man so often does not.  Shouldn't we, as children of God, be better than that?
 
Remember your mercy, O LORD, and your steadfast love, for they have been from of old. Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for the sake of your goodness, O LORD! (Ps 25:6-7).
 
Dene Ward
 

I sat with my hands in my lap, listening to the announcements.  When it came time for prayer, instantly two hands reached for mine and held them until the amens echoed around the building.

The hand on my right was my husband’s.  After spending fifty years together, it seemed only natural.  We are always touching, patting, and hugging.  To walk past one another without some sort of physical contact is unthinkable.  What has made this relationship even more remarkable though, is the spiritual sharing and touching.  When two people pray for the same things, hope for the same things, and endure the same things with the help of the same Comforter, two people who were so unalike in the beginning that several people tried to talk us out of this marriage, the closeness can only be with the help of the Divine Creator who united us in far more than holy matrimony.

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

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

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

The hand of God is the one that makes all of our hands worth holding.

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

Dene Ward

Despite my trekking poles, I still have an occasional stumble as I walk Chloe around the property in the mornings.  Trees have a way of shedding limbs, especially in a brisk spring breeze, of pelting the ground with pine cones that roll beneath the feet, and showering the ground with slick leaves and needles.  All of those things hide holes and depressions that can turn an ankle.  I haven’t fallen in awhile, thanks to these sturdy fiberglass poles, but it’s still a little dangerous out there for someone with limited vision.
            Most of those trees are ancient by human standards.  After watching a live oak we planted grow from a one foot “stick” to a fifteen foot sapling in 20 years, I know the ones that spread over our house, so large it would take four people to hold hands around them, must be closing in on the century mark.  The wonderful thing about those trees, especially in this climate, is the shade.  With limbs stretching out thirty to forty feet, and dense foliage, the temperature beneath them can be ten to fifteen degrees cooler than in the sun. 
            Trees, then, can be either a source of comfort or a hindrance.  On occasion, a tree has deposited a limb right in the middle of our driveway, and there are few places along its length where you can drive out of the road around a blockage.  The older the trees, in fact, the bigger the problem they can cause.  We pray constantly, especially in hurricane season, that one of those thousand pound limbs will not fall on the house.
            As I become older, I realize the same is true of me.  The aged can be a source of strength, wisdom, and encouragement.  God surely intended that to be the case.  Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days, Job 12:12.  Unfortunately we can also be a source of discouragement and a hindrance to spiritual life.  Instead of gaining wisdom, some of us store up hurts and slights, many of them magnified through the years or even imagined.  Instead of learning the lessons of life, we become bitter.  Instead of maturing and reaching out to others, we continue, as we so often did when young, to demand attention.
            On this rural property we have learned through the years which trees are most helpful and which are most damaging.  I step over far more pine limbs than oak, but even among those stately hardwoods are some we have learned to be wary of.  A water oak will drop branches on your house or your car or your power lines, will in fact, be as likely as a pine tree to completely fall over. 
            It may not seem fair, but if you are a young person looking for a mentor, you must, as Jesus said, judge people by their fruits.  If you find yourself hearing nothing but the negative, you are taking shelter under the wrong tree. 
            If you, like me, are heading toward that label “elderly,” you need to think about the shelter you offer the young.  I will be judged by “every idle word.”  Certainly around the young and impressionable, around those who may look to me for wisdom and advice, I must be careful not to cause them to stumble in their confidence by casting off branches of discouragement.  I must not block their pathway to spiritual growth with selfish resentment about the past.  I certainly must not squash their zeal with cynicism about either the world or their brethren.  If ever there is a time when our choice of words is crucial, it is old age, when the young look to us for advice and help.
            We cannot help becoming old.  But we can all determine how we will act as one of those older “trees.”  What did Jesus say about branches that were unfruitful?  Do we really think he will do less to us if we fail in our purpose as the older, wiser branches of his spiritual family tree?
 
O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come. Psalms 71:17-18.
 
Dene Ward