It has now been over six months since I took a deep breath and jumped headlong into the world of blog-dom.  Watching those pageviews rise has been a humbling experience.  Perhaps the most amazing thing to me is that anyone cares to spend any time reading my pitiful words at all—this is too uncomfortable a chair to sit in for long. 

I have tried to give you something besides “feel good fluff.”  Some that are a bit challenging, but at least a few that are more of a pat on the back or a reminder of the wonder of salvation. 

But here is the problem, writing comes more easily when I am scolding myself, which I often need.  So if some of these have seemed a bit hard, that is why—it is really me I am talking to.  I just hope you are able to find something in it that may help you as well.

God has always expected us to help one another that way, hasn’t He?  I just checked and in the New Testament alone, I found some form of the word “reprove” 12 times, some form of “rebuke” 27 times, and some form of “exhort” 43 times for a grand total of 82.  Then I looked up the other side of things.  I found some form of “comfort” 35 times, but some form of “encourage” I found only 4 times!  God certainly knew that there would be more times I needed to be straightened out, and fewer times I would deserve a more positive reinforcement.

But isn’t it nice that the word “comfort” is found so often?  Sometimes I think I can’t possibly do this.  No matter how hard I try, I always fail yet again.  But that really isn’t true.  Sometimes I do get it right.  I am making progress—but Satan does not want me to see that.  He does not want me to be encouraged and comforted. 

And I have a hard time believing that any one of you who has been a Christian for any amount of time has not, at least once in awhile, succeeded in your fight against sin, too.  Don’t listen to him when he tells you that you always fail. You don’t.  And I know that because I know Who your helper is.  I know the promises we have been given—you will not be tempted more than you can handle, and there is a way to escape it.  I know you have escaped it at least once, or Satan would not keep trying so hard.  After he gets you, the need to tempt you is gone. 

So hang in there.  I’m hanging right beside you.  We’ll help one another, rebuke one another, reprove one another, exhort one another, encourage one another, and comfort one another.  If this were not doable, we would not have been told to do it.

You are of God, my little children, and have overcome them, because greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world.  I John 4:4

Strengthen the weak hands and confirm the feeble knees.  Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong; fear not; behold your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God.  He will come and save you.”  Isaiah 35:3,4

Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

We were on our way to church on Sunday morning.  There was little traffic; Dene was wearing her usual “necklace”--my microphone--and my hearing aids were set to pick up only that.  Long ago, conversation without this wonder had ceased due to road noise.  

Suddenly, I hit a hole in the road and exclaimed, “I’ll bet I would have missed that if I had been looking at the road instead of into the woods.”  I followed that a moment later with, “That is why you are a better driver than I am despite:  I have better coordination, more practice, can see better, and am smarter than you are.”

When she objected to the last point, I said, “I married you; you married me.”  She conceded. 

When she drives, Dene does nothing else. Her whole attention is on the road and the business of driving; it has to because of her vision problems.  Jesus said that if one’s eye is single, his whole body will be full of light.  Despite all the discussion about multi-tasking, we really cannot do more than one thing at a time.  We always short one in order to do the other, which is the reason I hit the hole in the road and why I stumble when I try to chew gum and walk.  

On a spiritual plane, Jesus is urging that we keep our focus: “You cannot serve God and Mammon.”  Many Christians have lost their souls because they did not keep their eyes on the road.  

No one preaches about covetousness anymore.  One supposes such preaching would not be very popular in the most materialistic country in this most materialistic age. When church-attenders spend more time and money on recreation in a year than they give to the Lord in all the ways they give (collection, personal benevolence, attendance, personal study, et al.), one must at least suspect their eye is divided and their path is off into the woods.  It is right to work, it is right to have houses and good food and toys.  It is not really difficult to discern when the focus has shifted to those things, even when the sinner continues to attend.  “By their fruits you shall know them….”  Only the guilty says that you cannot really know what is inside him.  Jesus says that you are what you do.

The one who worries about the things he does not have, food and clothing, Jesus says, is actually in the same boat with the covetous man.  He has his focus on things, on mammon, and not on God and righteousness.  Filling the needs of the covetous man is impossible.  But, if done, would not satisfy him or free his time for the Lord.  He will always want “more.”  Likewise, providing abundantly for the anxious will not stop his worrying. Neither one is focused on the Lord, but on things.  When one says that if he just had _________, he would be able to devote more time to God, he is fooling no one but himself.  He is driving with only an occasional glance at the road and lucky to drive between the ditches.

Sometimes we are deceived into thinking there are many choices.  Jesus said there are two—God or things; righteousness or carnality.  All the various pursuits such as career, honor, status, art, etc are just variations on mammon that allow us to believe we are above the money-grubber.

So, think about it the next time you drift off the road toward the direction you are looking, and evaluate what your spiritual focus is.

All scripture references are from the Sermon on the Mount. If you cannot make the time to find and read them, you may have an indicator of your focus!                                           
Keith Ward      

Many years ago, as we drove back from a visit with Keith’s parents in Northwest Arkansas, we stopped in a small town for gas.  It was an older station, no convenience store attached, just the usual glass-windowed office and two service bays.  Before Keith could get out of the car, a young man ran out and asked which octane level we wanted, and proceeded to fill the tank.  The boys, who were young teenagers, were amazed. 

“Wow!” one of them said.  Then he immediately followed it with, “Look Mom!  He’s cleaning our windshield!”

Before he was finished, the young man had also checked the oil and battery, added some water to the radiator, and taken our credit card to run it through the machine.  He returned with it standing up looking at us from the top of a blue plastic clipboard which held the receipt for Keith to sign.  Never once did we have to get out of the car.  I immediately flashed back to my own childhood, when pumping gas was for attendants at “service” stations, which did not have to advertise themselves as “full service”—everyone understood that was what you got when you stopped there, something neither of my boys had ever seen in their lives.

And that is what a Christian is supposed to be—a “full service” station.  Christians focus on the needs of others; they fill the needs they see without being asked; they even go beyond what is expected.  As Jesus told his followers, If you love them that love you, what reward have you?  Do not even the publicans the same?  And if you salute your brethren only, what do you more than others?  Do not even the Gentiles the same?  Matt 5:46,47.  Instead of egocentrism, which sees itself as the center of the universe, Christians understand that even their own lives are not about them, but about others.

They know this because of the greatest example of leadership any group has ever had.  A leader who counted not the being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking on the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of man, and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, yes, the death of the cross, Phil 2:6-8.  A leader who was willing to do the dirty work, not just the foot washing duties of the lowliest of servants, but also taking on the filthy load of our sins, a load we all contributed to. 

For this reason we serve.  For this reason we gladly serve.  For this reason we serve fully, wearing ourselves out with serving, even unto death. 

You call me Teacher, and Lord, and you say well, for so I am.  If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.  For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.  Amen and amen, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his lord, neither one that is sent greater than he who sent him.  If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them, John 13:13-17.

Dene Ward

It’s been over three decades now.  Things have always been tight for us, but that particular time was the worst.  Through no fault of his own, Keith was in between preaching jobs, making ends meet with a couple of part time jobs and two or three preaching appointments a month, while finishing up his degree on the GI Bill.  I had a twenty-month old, was five months pregnant, and battling both an ulcer and gall stones.  Every month we pulled the belt a little bit tighter.

I had $20 a week to spend on groceries—period.  Even in that day it was only about half what others spent, even those who thought they were living closely.  I bought one piece of meat or poultry a week and made it last four or five days.  A whole chicken (19 cents a pound) provided the breasts for our one splurge meal that week—we actually had a whole chunk of meat on our plates.  The next day I used the thighs for a casserole of some sort, and with enough filler like rice or noodles it lasted two nights.  Then I boiled the backs, wings, and neck in a huge pot of water as a base for chicken and dumplings, a copious amount of dumplings, for another two night meal.  The other two nights that week we filled up on meatless meals—cheese omelets, pancakes or waffles, black beans and rice, pinto beans and cornbread, lentil soup, or on really tight days—biscuits and gravy, the gravy using only bacon drippings, flour, and milk.  Don’t ever judge a person’s wealth, or even their self-control, by their girth.  Poor people food is fattening food.  Only the economically comfortable can afford fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains, lean meat, and fish.

Besides learning to stretch a dollar, I also learned to eat more slowly.  My little boy may have been a toddler, but he still needed to eat to grow.  I gave him the small plateful I thought he could eat, but often, when he asked for “more,” the only “more” was on my plate.  I had already rationed Keith to the point that I worried that a grown man working that many hours a day had enough to survive.  So I willingly scraped off what was left on my plate onto my child’s.  I was more than happy to do that for him.  When we chose to have these children, we automatically took on the responsibility to feed them and care for them, even if it meant we didn’t eat.

I am afraid I am seeing parents who don’t believe that any more.  I know many fine young Christians who automatically sacrifice for their children, but the world doesn’t seem to think that’s normal.  Have you looked at the magazine rack in the grocery store?  Have you heard the discussions with people who think that everyone but they themselves should pay for their child’s basic necessities?  But let’s keep this personal instead of political.

“I’m so tired.”  “I’m so stressed.”  “I don’t have time for me any more.”

No, you don’t.  Yes, it’s exhausting, it’s frustrating, it’s completely overwhelming.  That’s what happens when you take on the care of a completely helpless human being.  That’s what you signed on for when you decided to have a child.  That’s the commitment you made when you decided to enjoy the act that might produce that child.

You may not have as much time to primp and preen as you’re used to.  You may go weeks or months without being able to enjoy your favorite pastime or hobby.  You may go seven years without a single new article of clothing because any pennies you can squeeze out of the paycheck go to the three shirts, three pairs of pants, six pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, and one pair of shoes you must buy for a growing child every six months at yard sales, outlets, and consignment shops.  You may even scrape the food off your plate. 

That’s what loving, responsible parents do, and they never begrudge the sacrifice, especially not the time, because one day, far too soon, you wake up and it’s over.  No more babies to rock, no more stickers to put on the potty training chart, no more little fingers in the cookie dough.  You’ll have all the time in the world for yourself—your career, your hobbies, your hair appointments and shopping sprees—but no amount of wishing will give you back the time you could have spent teaching, training, nurturing and loving your children into a happy, productive adulthood, and they will probably pay for that neglect in one way or another.

Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate. Psalms 127:3-5

Dene Ward

The day after a camping trip is my least favorite.  It isn’t just that the fun is over.  It isn’t just the unpacking and the piles of extra-dirty laundry.  It’s the complete lack of order in the house.

The linens box, the pots and dishes box, the two food boxes, the tent and sleeping bag box, the boxes of gas canisters, batteries, light bulbs, extension cords, insect repellent, clothesline and clothespins, books and Bibles, along with the tool box, first aid kit, two suitcases and two coolers lie stacked or scattered on the carport and porch, in the kitchen and living room.  Although the linens are all camp linens, no longer used on an everyday basis, they must all be washed—and bleached—before I can put them away.  Everything else must be sorted through.  Some stay packed with the camping gear and others are returned to their regular homes in the pantry, on a shelf, in a cabinet, or in the shed.  The tent must be set up in the field to finish drying and sleeping bags hung to air out.  It is often two or three days before my home is back in order.

Over the past few years, I have learned to accept a little less order.  Keith’s idea of order does not match mine, but he has had to take over the housekeeping several times so guess whose sense of order reigns then?  But when I go into the shed looking for the garden trowel, I can never find it while he knows exactly where it is.  In fact, he wants the item put right back where I got it, even if it doesn’t make sense to me because of his sense of order.  I learned a long time ago not to touch the top of his dresser, no matter how much it aggravates me.

We each have a sense of order—no matter how messy others might think it—and we don’t want people rearranging things.  Why do we think God wants us messing with His sense of order?

God’s sense of order has always had a reason, and while my sense of order is nothing but a selfish desire to keep things the way I want them, God’s sense of order is always for our good.

The order he imposes upon our assemblies is for the ease of edification.  Camp awhile in 1 Corinthians 14.  If there is no interpreter, don’t speak in tongues because no one will be edified (vv 15-19), and visitors will simply be confused (v 23).  If more than one of you has a revelation, take turns so people can be edified rather than confused by the chaos of more than one speaking at a time (vv 27-28).  Women should not be asking questions to put their husbands forward, when some other topic might be more important to the group at that time (vv 34-35).  Surely we can see applications to today’s assemblies in all of that.  God’s sense of order isn’t about who gets the most floor time, or how much we are entertained—it’s about how much edification occurs.

God’s sense of order for our lives helps us live happier, safer, and healthier.  We take better care of our bodies, our relationships, and our minds when we follow His order.  Even the ordinances that seemed to have nothing to do with us reinforce the goodness, the righteousness, and the holiness of God—things that are important to making us fit for an eternal life with a spiritual and holy Deity.

“Surely God wouldn’t mind” presumptuously ignores the fact that the Creator is the only one with the right to impose order in our worship of Him and in our lives of service to Him.  “But I like it this way,” is simply selfishness and a slap in the face to God who has given everything to make it possible to be with Him forever.

God doesn’t really care if I keep my spare items on the bottom shelf of the pantry and the things actively in use at eye level.  It doesn’t matter to Him that Keith keeps all the garden sprays and powders to the left of the middle pillar on the third shelf.  But the order He does care about, should be my first concern too.  In those things, God’s sense of order is the only one that matters.

And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says "I know him" but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, 1 John 2:3-4.

Dene Ward

My dog hates taking her medicine.  Whether it is the monthly squirt of heartworm medication or the monthly application of flea and tick preventive, it takes two of us to do it—one to hold her down and the other to do the dirty work.  Not even a treat at the end will dampen her withering glare when it’s over.  We have betrayed her and she makes sure we feel her scorn.

Actually, I think that is pretty normal.  Which is why, when someone I know has tried to admonish a brother and someone else says, “Now he [the sinner] is upset,” I want to say, “Well, duh.”  No one likes to be corrected.  I certainly don’t, no matter how hard the other guy tries to be nice about it.

And no one I know likes to be the corrector.  In spite of what we may hear about all those “bad attitudes” people supposedly have when they correct others, everyone I know approaches the ordeal with fear.  They know they will more than likely lose a friend, be attacked, or wind up with a damaged reputation.  Why is it that when a godly person rebukes a sinner and the results are less than optimal, that we automatically believe the sinner’s version of events, rather than the godly person’s?  That’s not even logical.

So when it comes to taking spiritual medicine, I need to remember three things:

First, be brave.  God says when I see someone in sin and I do not warn them, he will hold me accountable.  When I say to the wicked, O wicked man, you shall surely die, and you do not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at your hand.  Ezek 33:8.  Regardless of the grief it is likely to cause me, God expects me to care enough about a soul to try anyway.

Second, be charitable in my judgment of a corrector.  Believe that he did his best, and went with the best attitude.  That poor fellow took the risk of a no-win situation because he cared; he deserves my support, not my criticism.  Besides, if I thought I could do better, why didn’t I?

And finally, when it comes my turn to take the medicine, swallow my pride along with the pill, no matter how bitter it is, recognizing that someone cared enough about my eternal destiny to try to help me.  After all, medicine will make you feel better in the end, won’t it?

Brethren, if a man be overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to yourself, lest you also be tempted.  Gal 6:1

Dene Ward

We hadn’t driven that road in years, a narrow county road I used to jog down every morning.  At that time one end was so well wooded that more than once during hunting season I heard bullets whizzing across the road behind me when I jogged.  I learned to sing loudly while I ran. 

The morning of our drive the sunlight came in exactly as it had all those years ago, slanting rays peeking through the trees from the east, clear and bright where they hit the road, a crisp fall morning, the humidity of summer left behind.  Then we came upon them, house after house, places where we had known the people who had lived there, one after the other along the west side of the road, then the north as the road made a ninety degree bend to the left.  We named the people as we rode by, and when we finished we looked at one another and realized that every one of them was dead.

Yet there the houses still stood, some with new families, but most empty, houses those people had built themselves, nice homes mine could fit in twice over, carefully landscaped property, barns, sheds, pools, and other outbuildings—empty.  I thought of the Preacher’s words:   I made great works. I built houses and planted vineyards for myself. I made myself gardens and parks, and planted in them all kinds of fruit trees. I made myself pools from which to water the forest of growing trees… Then I considered all that my hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun, Eccl 2:4-6,11. 

If ever there was a time I understood Ecclesiastes, it was that morning.  All these things people spend their money on, all these things they think will make them happy, none of them really matter because sooner or later you die and leave them behind.

So I hated life, because what is done under the sun was grievous to me, for all is vanity and a striving after wind. I hated all my toil in which I toil under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to the man who will come after me, and who knows whether he will be wise or a fool? Yet he will be master of all for which I toiled and used my wisdom under the sun. This also is vanity. So I turned about and gave my heart up to despair over all the toil of my labors under the sun, because sometimes a person who has toiled with wisdom and knowledge and skill must leave everything to be enjoyed by someone who did not toil for it. This also is vanity and a great evil, Eccl 2:17-21.

Maybe, though, the writer overreacted a bit.  Why hate your life?  Why not just change it?  When you learn that you control your happiness, that happiness does not lie in circumstances but within yourself, then you change the emphasis of all you do.  Why not spend your time making other people’s lives better?  Why not spread the good news in whatever way you are still able?  Why leave only an empty house behind when you can leave something far more lasting—an example, words of comfort and encouragement, the Word of God taught in whatever way possible to any and all who will pay attention?

After you are gone, what will people say when they drive past what used to be yours?  Will they merely say, “That’s where so-and-so used to live?”  Or will they say, “Remember that brother and sister?  They were such good people.”  How are you spending the time God has given you?  What will you leave behind?  How much better to leave the memories of a life full of joy and service than an empty building no one will care about anyway.

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 12:16-21

Dene Ward

If you have ever tried to take care of an infant’s stuffy nose with one of those rubber ball suction devices, you—and your child—know the importance of the day he actually learns to blow his nose, even if you do have to hold the Kleenex for him. 

Lucas must have been about 18 months old when he learned.  He was so thrilled he could not get enough of it.  I caught him grabbing a hanging bath towel at the hem, which was the only place he could reach, and blowing his nose on it.  Then he came running to me, for hugs and kisses I assumed; but no, as soon as I picked him up, he grabbed my shirt and blew his nose on it.  When I finally realized what was up, I caught him just as he made a beeline for a clean pile of laundry waiting to be folded, and caught him before he could jump into the basket and blow his nose all over everything.  It was suppertime, though, when I realized that teaching him nose-blowing etiquette was of paramount importance.  I sat him in the high chair and he promptly reached out and blew his nose on—no, not his napkin—his biscuit!

Now when I have a cold I am glad I can blow my nose, but it’s no big deal.  Lucas, on the other hand, had learned something new.  It made his life so much easier and he was excited to practice it.  Now where am I going with this one?

Two people walk into the meetinghouse on Sunday morning.  One comes in with a ho-hum expression, sits near the back, tries not to fall asleep, and leaves looking much as he did when he arrived.  Another comes in smiling, hugs everyone in sight, sits near the front taking copious notes, asks questions in class, and even stays afterward with more questions.  Which is the “mature” Christian and which is the babe in Christ?  Isn’t it sad that we all know the answer to that one? 

Why have we “mature” Christians—or should I just say “old” converts?--lost our enthusiasm?  Why is it that we need to learn from the babes the joy of salvation, the diligence of study, and the satisfaction of serving others, when we should be giving them the example?  Why is it that the ones who should least understand the importance of salvation are the ones who appreciate it the most?  Have we forgotten what we know, or are we just bored with it?  Are we, like the Pharisees, so enamored with our own sense of righteousness that we actually think we have saved ourselves?

Unfortunately for the babes, many will learn from our example and become just like us.  Let’s rekindle the fire.  There is a reason for the term “revival,” and it is not an unscriptural word.  Let’s start behaving like mature Christians ought to behave, like children of God who live lives of joy and are thrilled to be able to call God their Father and Jesus their older brother.  Isn’t that amazing?

Turn us, O God of our salvation, and cause your indignation toward us to cease.  Will you be angry with us forever?  Will you draw out your anger to all generations?  Will you not revive us again that your people may rejoice in you?  Show us your lovingkindness, O Jehovah, and grant us your salvation.  Psa 85:5-7

Dene Ward

Out here in the country, just about every man has a pickup truck.  Most of them are several years old, caked in mud, a little rusty, and dented here and there.  That’s because those trucks are used. 

We have one too.  It’s 15 years old, usually wears a coat of dust, and sports a bed with scrapes, dings, and lines of orange rust.  It has hauled wood for our heat and leaves and pine straw for mulch.  It has carried loads of dirt to landscape the natural rises and dips of our property.  It has toted lawn mowers and tillers to the shop for repair.  It has gone on several dozen camping trips, filled to the brim of its topper with tents, sleeping bags, coolers, suitcases, firewood, and food.

Whenever we go to town, it always amuses me to see a man in a tie get out of a pickup truck, especially if that truck is clean, polished, and less than two years old.  I asked such a man once why he needed his pickup.  “To drive,” he said.  What?  Isn’t that what far more economical cars are for?  He actually took better care of his truck than his car, polishing it to a high enough sheen to blind the driver in the next lane, and vacuuming it almost daily.  Obviously, his pickup was for show.  “A man ought to have a truck after all.”  Why?  Because it makes him a man?

Before you shake your head, consider that this happens with many more things than pickup trucks.  Why do you have the type of car you do?  Not a car, but that particular one.  I know some people who think the brand is the important part, that somehow it says something special about them.  Why do you live where you do in the type of house that you have?  Is it a big house because you have a big family, because you use it to house brethren passing through who need help, because you show hospitality on a regular basis?  Or is it because someone of your stature ought to have a house that size in that neighborhood?

I suppose the saddest thing I have seen is women who have children because “that’s what women do.”  Their careers or homes or status is far more important than the child, who is raised by someone else entirely, with mommy making “quality time” whenever she can spare a moment or two.

The Israelites of the Old Testament had similar problems.  They wanted a king “like the countries round about them.”  Somehow they thought it made them a legitimate nation.  Do we do similar things in the church?

Why do we have a preacher?  I have heard people say we need one to look valid to the denominations around us.  Why do we have a building?  “Because that would make us a real church.”  Neither of those things is wrong to have, but our attitudes show us to be less than spiritual, not to mention less than knowledgeable, when we say such things. 

Why do you have elders?  “Because a church this size ought to.”  That may very well be, but you don’t fix the problem of a church that hasn’t grown enough spiritually to have qualified men by choosing men who are anything but just so you can say you have elders.

A lot of us are just silly boys who think that having a pickup truck makes them real men.  Let’s get to the root of the problem.  What makes you a Christian, what makes a church faithful, is a whole lot like what makes you a man, and outward tokens have nothing to do with it.

"As for you, son of man, your people who talk together about you by the walls and at the doors of the houses, say to one another, each to his brother, 'Come, and hear what the word is that comes from the LORD.' And they come to you as people come, and they sit before you as my people, and they hear what you say but they will not do it; for with lustful talk in their mouths they act; their heart is set on their gain. And behold, you are to them like one who sings lustful songs with a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument, for they hear what you say, but they will not do it. When this comes--and come it will!--then they will know that a prophet has been among them." Ezekiel 33:30-33

Dene Ward

Things change so rapidly these days it seems impossible to keep up.  I had carefully collected a library of classical music LPs for my students to listen to.  By the time my studio was large enough, with students advanced enough to get much use out of them, I was collecting cassettes.  Before long I had to switch to CDs.  At least I don’t have a collection of 8 tracks collecting dust as well.  Somehow I missed that phase.

The same thing is happening in the church, and I don’t mean changing doctrine to suit the situation, I mean changing the means by which we teach that unchangeable Word, and the ways we edify one another while still clinging to the constraints of obedient faith.

Gone are the charts drawn on white bed sheets and the overhead projectors flashing carefully covered up lists, revealed one line at a time when the speaker moves the sheet of paper he laid on top.  Now we use power point and remotes.  Even my three year old grandson Silas knows to pick up something rectangular and point it at his make-believe screen when he pretends to preach like Daddy.

We must beg people to use the carefully selected library of books we have in the back hall—they are happier with the internet and Bible study programs, not to mention Kindle and Nook.  Even the riffling of Bibles during the sermon has decreased—many now have all 66 books on something the size of a wallet.  You are more likely to hear beeps or mechanized “plops” than the quiet shuffling of pages.

Now the preacher doesn’t just have to raise his voice when an infant begins to cry; he has to raise it when someone forgets to turn off his cell phone.  Now the song leader must wrestle with an audience who not only wants to sing at their own pace regardless of his direction, but with the ones who cannot for the life of them understand or “feel” syncopation.  Fanny Crosby would never have set words to a syncopated tune.

But some things will always be the same.

Children whose parents tell them to “Listen!” will still come up with ways to keep their wandering minds on the sermons, counting how many times the preacher says certain words or writing down every passage he uses, and in that play will begin to memorize scriptures that stay with them for a lifetime.

Someone will still sniffle a bit during the Lord’s Supper, and someone else will momentarily hold up the collection while he tries to persuade his two year old to put the coins in the plate, and the children will learn what is done and why.

A deacon will stand in back and count while another one makes last minute notes for the closing announcements, those precious words that help us “weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice.”

Serious men, in khakis and open neck shirts instead of suits and ties, will still listen carefully to the preacher while their wives juggle their own listening with trying to decide if a requested potty trip is really necessary or just a ploy to get out of this boring seat for a few minutes.

People will still ask for prayers when life deals them a harsh blow, and brothers and sisters will gather round with hugs and tears, and offers of help.

Excited new converts will still sit closer to the front than old ones, listening with rapt attention, diligently taking notes to study at home, and thinking up questions that will keep the elders busy for weeks.

Young parents will be suddenly motivated to attend regularly for the first time in their lives by the responsibility of the small souls God has placed in their hands.

Widows will contentedly sit, patiently waiting for the time when they can meet their mates “at the gate,” as my mother asked my daddy to do just moments before his passing.

Older couples will do as I do, looking around at all the new but still seeing the old in spite of the new, comforting themselves that God’s way still works, even in this perplexing age of technology and unparalleled advancement.

As long as there are people to hear it and hearts to believe it, planting the seed will make Christians spring up out of any plot of good soil.  It has worked for nearly two thousand years now and we, in spite of the wow-factor of our inventions, will never outdo the results God can get with one Book.  If you ever forget that, then look around some Sunday morning, not for the differences, but for the things that never change, and that never will as long as faith exists on the earth.

"O my God," I say, "take me not away in the midst of my days-- you whose years endure throughout all generations!" Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you will remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but you are the same, and your years have no end. The children of your servants shall dwell secure; their offspring shall be established before you. Psalms 102:24-28

Dene Ward