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            The gospel is nothing if not practical.  God was more interested in helping us live our lives every day than equipping us to sit in dusty rooms arguing theology.  So today let’s be eminently practical.

            I am sure you have heard “practice makes perfect” your entire life.  It is wrong.  The only thing practice makes is permanent.

            One of the things I had to train many of my piano students to do was to practice correctly.  They would come in with the same mistakes week after week.  First they played the wrong note (the same wrong note in the same piece at every lesson), and then they would correct it.  What they had taught themselves to do was to play the wrong note first, then stop and play the right one.  Correcting it did not make the competition judge happy.  He wanted a perfect performance the first time. 

            When their poor practice habits became obvious, we had to start all over.  First I had them tell me the name of the correct note, saying the name aloud several times which I then repeated to them.  “Right, it’s an F#, an F#, an F#.”  Then I had them find that note and play it with the correct finger, while saying its name over and over.  Then I had them play the note before it and after it until they played that three note sequence correctly no less than three times in a row.  If they made a mistake, we started counting all over.

            Then we backed up one measure and played past it one measure, once again until they could do it correctly three times in a row.  Then we backed up one phrase and played past it one phrase until they could play the three phrases correctly three times in a row.  You get the picture.  We practiced it correctly over and over, using as many senses as possible, hearing ourselves say the correct name of the note, feeling the correct note under the finger, seeing the correct note both on the page and as we played it, and then playing through without the bad habit of doing it wrong first.  Usually that took care of the problem.

            What do we do as Christians?  Do we teach ourselves to do it wrong first, then pray for forgiveness over and over, constantly making the same mistakes?  Practice makes permanent.  Maybe it is time to do a little analysis. 

            Why do I keep doing the same thing again and again?  “That’s just the way I am,” is not an acceptable reason; it is a lame excuse.  God expects us to change the way we are.  If it took such detailed, tedious work to undo a bad habit in a piano piece, why do we think we don’t have to really work at it to undo a bad habit in our thoughts or behaviors, where Satan is actively pulling against us?  Some of my students may have been little devils, but that is not why they played wrong notes!  So why should sin be easier to fix?

            Often just the fact that I am owning up to my sin and thinking about the problem will do a world of good, but if you really want to make progress—and I assume we all do--it takes more effort than that.. 

            Make a plan and follow it.  Find three times in the day to pray about that particular problem.  Find three passages about that sin and read them over and over.  The next day pray again and find three more passages.  Do that every day, praying, listing and reading.  Keep a journal of all the times that problem rears its ugly head.  Write down every detail of the situation, how it happened, what caused it, and how you handled, or mishandled, it--without blaming anyone else.  When you finally have a victory, celebrate with a prayer of thanksgiving and your favorite hymn.  Call a friend with whom you have shared your problem (James 5:16) and tell them about it so they can rejoice with you. 

            You do not have to do all of these things in all of these particular ways and numbers, but do something to help yourself kick the habit.  Think about how you set about to lose weight, keeping track of what you eat (including the no-noes) and how much you exercise each day. Remember how those nicotine patch commercials show people stepping down one level at a time till they reach their goal?  But you should be stepping UP one level at the time to reach yours.

            Practice makes permanent.  Make sure you are practicing correctly.

No one born of God makes a practice of sinning, for God's seed abides in him,  and he cannot keep on sinning because he has been born of God, 
1 John 3:9.

Dene Ward

I have never discovered I was so wrong about so many things in such short a time as I have since we started this Psalms study.

            The Psalms are mainly poems of praise to God, right?  Wrong.  Only 20% of the psalms are classified as psalms of praise.

            All Biblical psalms are collected in what we know as the “Book of Psalms” or “The Psalter.”  Wrong.  Psalms are scattered throughout the Old Testament from Exodus through the Minor Prophets.

            The Psalms were written by David.  Wrong.  Nor even the majority but only half the Psalms are attributed to David.  That leaves 75 in the book of Psalms written by someone else, and most of the others scattered throughout the Bible as well.  Some were written hundreds of years before David and some hundreds of years after.  In fact, the book of Psalms covers roughly a thousand years, 1500-500 BC.

            Yes, the Psalms were inspired, but it is poetry not something important.  Oh my, what an error that was.  The book of Psalms is quoted in the New Testament more than any other book of the Old.  Jesus himself places it right alongside the Law and the Prophets as authoritative and instructive scripture (Luke 24:44-47).  If you want a slap-in-the-face shock, read every place those psalms are quoted in the New Testament and note how the writer or the passage is described:  David was “in the Spirit.”  David wrote “by the Holy Spirit.”  Those psalms are “scripture,” “fulfilled prophecy,” and God-given “definitions.”  Then you can re-read that earlier Psalms article on Bible study and see once again exactly how important these passages are precisely because they are poetry.

            Misconceptions about the scriptures abound.  All you need do is talk to some skeptic for awhile.  They think they are so smart, and when it comes to worldly knowledge perhaps they are.  They would certainly outdo me on an IQ test.  But they are woefully ignorant of the scriptures, and if you ever want to look foolish, try expounding upon something you know nothing about in front of people who know quite a bit about it.  My husband, the former law enforcement officer, can hardly stand to watch crime dramas any more.  All he sees are the errors about guns, about evidence, even about the law and police procedure.  When it comes to ignorant people scorning the scriptures we should be exactly the same way--seeing their ignorance instead of falling for it.  If we aren’t, maybe it is because we are ignorant.  How can we expect to defend the Truth if we don’t know what we are talking about? 

            But for now, just consider your own misconceptions about the Psalms.  Surely I am not the only one.

            If you think the book of Psalms is nothing more than Israel’s songbook, you are mistaken right off the bat.  But for the sake of argument, if we were to pattern our own singing on this inspired work, what would we be singing?  Lately we seem to be singing nothing but hymns of praise.  At the risk of sounding irreverent let me remind you:  only 20% of the psalms are praise psalms.  What percentage do you sing?  Would you be shocked to discover that the largest group of psalms is psalms of lament?  Then we have psalms of thanks, psalms of trust, wisdom psalms, and even psalms about our earthly government—boy, do we need those these days! 

            We have instructive psalms, historical psalms, and psalms about the Law.  Sadly, many Christians today need to be reminded of the importance of following God’s law.   In fact, the theme of the whole Psalter is the covenant between God and His people, usually stated in words like, “You are my people and I am your God, therefore…”   It is the “therefore” that people do not want to deal with, including some of my brethren. Maybe we sing nothing but the new praise psalms because they demand so little of us.  Those old hymns everyone seems to be tired of make you look at yourself in painful ways.  They call for change in our character and attitudes. If we cleared up our misconceptions about the Psalms, I wonder how our singing would change.   I wonder how our approach to authority would change.  I wonder how our lives would change.

            Or are we no better than a so-called religious person who believes he can pick and choose among the passages in the Bible and still be considered one of God’s people?  Are we ignorant and happy to remain so?  God expects more from his covenant people.  He always has and He always will.


But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. See that you do not refuse him who is speaking. For if they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less will we escape if we reject him who warns from heaven.  Hebrews 12:22-25.

Dene Ward

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When my studio was still open I enrolled in several professional organizations.  The one dearest to my heart was the small group here in the county.  We met seven times a year, had our business meeting, followed by a lively program one of us, or sometimes all of us, participated in, then a country potluck lunch that had us all trying to keep our eyes open as we taught that afternoon.

            Keeping the membership up was a constant battle.  We talked to our friends, invited neighbors, even advertised in the weekly paper.  The results barely kept up with the attrition of old age, relocation, and moms going back to work.  Oh, everyone got a kick out of the programs.  No one turned down a free lunch.  But when they found out they would have to work on fundraisers and projects, suddenly everyone was too busy. 

            Some of them paid dues, but never showed up, thinking that was at least a monetary help.  Eventually we decided that if that was all they would do, we would not approach them the next year to renew their membership.  Our state and national affiliation dues were charged per capita, and our miniscule local dues barely covered them.  What we were about wasn’t fun and games and good food.  Our stated aim was to help keep music programs in the poor rural schools and provide scholarships for worthy students to help with the costs of private lessons.  If a member did not have the same interests, he really didn’t belong anyway.

            Isn’t it that way with the Lord’s body?  Too many are on the rolls in name only.  Oh, they may come, but not for the reason the scriptures give.  Assembling with the saints is not about entertainment; it’s about provoking one another to love and good works, Heb 10: 24, 25.  It isn’t about showing off our talents and receiving praise; it’s about edification and giving God praise, 1 Cor 14:26.  It isn’t about whether I approve of what went on or who is there, it’s about communing with the Lord, Matt 26:29.  It certainly isn’t about judging others, their clothing, their words, their actions; it’s about realizing that the Judge of all is watching my worship and deciding whether or not it is acceptable.

            If all I do is sit there waiting to be catered to, or even uplifted for that matter, I have not fulfilled the real duty of meeting with my brethren no matter how many times I sit on that pew, or how long.  Walking in those doors places an obligation on me to act, not react.  Claiming membership means I need to get busy, not be served.  Putting my name on a roll means I do more than put my check in the plate. 

            Eventually my little organization no longer invited members in name only to re-up.  What would happen if the elders did that in the church?  But here is a more sobering thought—the Lord is already doing it.  Is your name still on His list?

And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done… And if anyone's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. Revelation 20:12,15.

Dene Ward

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            That is exactly what our lungs are—hot air balloons.  Most of the time we only use a small amount of their capacity.  That is why taking a deep breath can have such a profound effect.  We are not used to having that much oxygen in our systems all at once.  I have heard that when a person actually begins to use his lungs to their capacity, those who have not smoked in years are suddenly expelling it.  It sat at the bottom of their lungs all that time.  I don’t know if that is true, but I would not be surprised.

            When teaching voice lessons, one of the biggest challenges is to teach people how to breathe, and then how to manage all that air.  Taking a deep breath will not accomplish a thing if you just whoosh it all out with the first note you sing.  If you take too big a breath, you will not be able to control how much you let out at once.  Because you have filled to capacity, the minute you apply any pressure at all with your diaphragm, you will lose close to half of it on the first word.  It is far better to fill to about 90%--you will still have far more than you are used to having.  You will also have the ability to mete out what you need and sing all the way through a phrase without gasping for air in front of your audience.

            When I thought about that, suddenly I understood a word I had been ignoring in one of those oft-quoted passages:  for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, Matt 12:34.  We usually just say, “You can’t speak what you don’t feel,” which may be true, but it is possible to have things come out in ways you never intended at all. 

            I remember riding to a gospel meeting with another couple many years ago.  I was in the backseat with the other woman, while Keith sat up front with the man.  Motion sickness can hit me at the drop of a hat.  I tried to be polite and actually look at the woman whenever I spoke to her, but that looking back and forth to the side, all that scenery rushing past behind her head, along with the larger sense of lateral sway in the backseat, was taking a toll on me.  Finally I said, “I’m sorry.  I just can’t look at you any more; it’s making me sick.”

            You see what I mean.  Sometimes the bad things that come out of your mouth are perfectly innocent. 

            But Jesus said, “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.”  Aha!  I looked up that word.  It’s a nice long Greek word, also translated, “remain,” as in something that remains over and above what is needed.  In Matthew 14, Jesus fed 5000 people with five loaves and two fish.  He not only fed them, but he fed them so abundantly that they all ate and were filled and they took up that which remained (that long Greek word) of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full, v12.  The word is also translated “exceed,” “enough and to spare,” and “abound,” as in the grace of God…abounds to the many, Romans 5:15.  How much grace do you want God to give you?  I hope he gives me more than just barely enough, and the use of this word proves it will be plenty.

            So what comes out of my heart is what I stuff it with, what I cram in there every day, filling it to the brim and overflowing.  And, just like when I take too deep a breath and the pressure from my diaphragm makes too much air gush out all at once, when I am under pressure, what I have crammed into my heart is what will come out.  Is it bitterness for what I have had to endure?  Anger at God for the trials he allows?  Resentment of everything and everyone because of how my life has turned out?  Or is it love, humility, kindness, generosity, contentment, and faith?  

            Whatever it is, there is no denying what I have been storing away when all of a sudden it bursts upon the scene in a gust of hot air. 

Whoever winks the eye causes trouble, but a babbling fool will come to ruin.  The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but the mouth of the wicked conceals violence.   When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent.  The tongue of the righteous is choice silver; the heart of the wicked is of little worth.  The lips of the righteous feed many, but fools die for the lack of sense, Prov 10:10, 11, 19-21.

Dene Ward

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A few weeks ago, Satan finished what he started three years ago and stole my identity.  I have packed up the last of my teaching supplies: sheet music, collections, method books, assignment notebooks, theory books, technique books, concerti, history notebooks, listening labs, computer disk theory games, stickers, rhythm instruments, home made music bingo games, magic slates with grand staffs permanently imprinted on them, even my old textbook How to Teach Piano Successfully.  I have sent them on to a young piano teacher in Ohio, who is just starting out.

            I had a weepy moment or two.  This part of my life—35 years worth plus all those years learning--is definitely over now.  There is no going back; I simply cannot see the music any longer.  But I am happy to know that these things will be put to good use—that other little children will learn with them, and that a young preaching couple will have a bit more coming in to help out with a skimpy income.  But for a moment the large empty space under my piano made me feel invisible. 

            I am no longer the piano and voice teacher in Union County. 

            I no longer open my doors every afternoon to excited little faces, making sure that grubby little hands are washed before touching the keys, but still picking up every ailment my students brought my way, including parvo once, for goodness sake!  It must have been all the hugs. 

            I am no longer playing at weddings half a dozen times a year.  I am no longer meeting with my fellow teachers once or twice a month, serving as association officer or chairman of this committee or that. 

            I no longer take a dozen students to various competitions, crying with them for their losses and cheering for their wins.  I no longer spend hours on themed spring programs, gathering up suitable music, matching it to each student’s personality, then working out the details, including skits and grand finales. 

            I no longer present high school seniors in debut recitals with formals and tuxes, long-stemmed red roses, and a glittery reception afterward. 

            Satan has stolen all of that from me with this disease.

            It could have been a real problem for me.  I could have sunk into a depression difficult to come out of.  Then I remembered my real identity.

            Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us that we should be called the children of God; and we are, 1 John 3:1.

            Listen my beloved brethren did not God choose those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which he promised to those who love him? James 2:4.

            But you are an elect race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession, that you may show forth the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light, 1 Pet 2:9.

            He has granted unto us precious and exceeding great promises, that through these you may become partakers of the divine nature, 
2 Pet 1:4.

            The Spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ, if so be that we suffer with him, that we may also be glorified with him, Rom 8:16,17.

            I still have my identity, and so do you.  It’s the one that counts, the one that Satan cannot steal, the one that will last forever.

Dene Ward

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            One afternoon many years ago we stopped at an Olive Garden restaurant for a late lunch.  It was about 2:30, and it would be our only meal of the day. The place was nearly empty, so we were seated at a nice table and an eager young waitress, her order pad and pen held at the ready, came to serve us.

            “We’ll start with bruschetta,” I said. 
            “Huh?  Oh!  You mean brush-etta.”
            No, I thought.  I meant what I said, “Brrroo-skeht-ta.”

            Now, you must understand that I had been teaching Italian aria and art song for a couple dozen years at that time.  My students regularly stood before judges who marked them down on mispronounced Italian, so I had studied everything I could, constantly referencing an Italian pronunciation guide, and checking with other teachers who had sung opera.  I knew exactly how to pronounce “bruschetta.”

            I had learned some lessons the hard way.  I remember one especially embarrassing and painful occasion at state contest.  I don’t recall the exact word, but somewhere in it was the letter sequence “g-i-a.”  I had the student pronounce that as two syllables:  “jee-ah.” 

            “That’s not quite right,” the judge said, as nicely as she could.  The i turns the g into a j.  After that, it has done its work, and is not pronounced.  The syllable is simply “jah,” not “jee-ah.”

            Since we’re into Italian food at this point, Let me illustrate it this way:  parmagiana reggiano cheese is pronounced “par-ma-jah-nah reh-jah-no,” NOT “par-ma-jee-ah-nah reh-jee-ah-no,” and that chef named “Giada” is “Jah-da,”  NOT “Jee-ah-dah.”  Pay attention sometime when she says her name herself. 

            Now here is my point:  who should I listen to about how to pronounce Italian—a college student moonlighting at a chain restaurant or the voice judge, a woman who has sung on the operatic stage many years longer than that waitress has been alive, singing Italian for hours at a time, and who can even translate it?

            How do you choose whom to listen to?  Who gets your vote for the one to take advice from?  Is it someone your own age who has as little experience as you do?  Is it perhaps someone older, but whose only qualification in your mind is that s/he is “fun” and “cool,” and a whole lot more so than the other old fuddy-duddies?  Is it someone who gives you the answers you want, who makes everything easy, even things that are not and should not be easy? Is it someone who makes you laugh?  Is it someone who speaks in “bumper sticker?”  Or is it someone who has experienced the ups and downs of life and come through it sane and faithful, someone who may not be able to keep an audience’s attention but can tell you from a heart of concern exactly what you need to hear—whether or not it’s what you want to hear?  Most important of all—is it someone who knows the Word of God inside out and has stuck with it even when it made his own life difficult, who tells you what God says, not what he thinks or feels?

            Mispronouncing Italian is no big deal in most of our lives, but mispronouncing the Word of God can cost you your soul.

Listen to advice and accept instruction that you may be wise in your latter end, Prov 19:20.

Dene Ward