Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

As Jesus came down from the mount of transfiguration, he met a man whose son was demon possessed.  The nine apostles had not been able to cast out the demon and Jesus rebuked them for their lack of faith.  After he had cast out the demon, the nine disciples asked Jesus why they had not been able to do so.  Jesus replied, "This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer.” (Mark 9:29).  [Peter, James, and John were on the mount with Jesus and had not failed, or even tried.]
 
Despite the popularity of this movie genre, demons do not possess people today just as they did not do so in the Old Testament.  Demons operated for a short time to show the power of Jesus to control them.  The only Old Testament  passage to use the expression "unclean spirit" which is found so often in the gospels states that they will end in "the day" a fountain is opened for sin (Zech 13:1-2).  In fact, neither demons or unclean spirits are mentioned in any of the epistles as possessing people as they do in the gospels and Acts.
 
Nevertheless, I believe that we are possessed.  Not by spirit beings but by decades of sinful habits or by years of thinking evil thoughts so that our minds are grooved into following those paths.  Often, when we decide to turn over that new leaf, we find that we cannot cast out these "demons." Just like the nine apostles, we have expected it to be easy.  We sowed the wind and find we have a tornado in our soul that we cannot control (Hos 8:7).  Neither baptism nor genuine intent to change is a quick fix for cleansing our souls of these sins.  This kind comes out only by prayer.
 
But, a quick prayer when we are already halfway into the situation will not suffice.  It did not for the nine and these quick patches on a bleeding wound of the soul will not work for us.  And, somehow, I suspect God becomes weary of prayers for forgiveness when there were few or no prayers for strength before we sinned.
 
Our regret for this habitual sin should bring us to the knees of our heart continually throughout the day begging for strength from the Lord.  This earnest care to be pure will have us making time for studied lengthy prayers about our specific sin.  Our indignation that Satan still seeks to use the same old weakness against us again must motivate us to learn scriptures to enrich and strengthen our prayers.  The fear of God's wrath should have us examining the situations that lead us to fall and praying with zeal to prepare for them.  Our longing to be pure before a holy God will lead us to make the time for these prayers, no excuses, no exceptions.
 
Actual unclean spirit demons may not inhabit humans anymore, but the demons we have created by our careless certainty that God will keep on forgiving can be as hard to cast out.  Unless we do, we will not see God.
 
Set your hope perfectly … as children of obedience, not fashioning yourselves according to your former lusts in the time of your ignorance: but like as he who called you is holy, be ye yourselves also holy in all manner of living; because it is written, Ye shall be holy; for I am holy.  And if ye call on him as Father, who without respect of persons judges according to each man's work, pass the time of your sojourning in fear.  (1Pet 1:13-17)
 
Keith Ward

This year we picked our first garden produce in early April.  Finding that first inch long green bean hiding among the thick spade-shaped foliage gives you a thrill, but seeing the first shiny green silks spewing out of the corn shucks and the tassels creeping out of the top positively makes your mouth water.  When it has been nearly a year since sinking your teeth into a row of crisp, juicy, buttered and salted kernels, the anticipation is intense.
 
             If you are not a gardener you might not truly appreciate the sacrifice of the firstfruits under the Old Law.  Every gardener knows that the first picking is the best.  As time passes, the corn and beans toughen.  The tomatoes and peppers become smaller and smaller and rot more quickly from the many blemishes.  The cucumbers turn yellow and overblown before they reach their full length.  Yet we have the frozen food section at the grocery store and a produce section that brings food from places where the firstfruits are just appearing.  Many of us have never seen anything but the firstfruits.

              I’ve often heard that certain frozen and canned vegetables are more reliably good than the fresh.  They are picked at their peak and processed within hours.  We can have the best any time of the year, and we take it for granted.  The devout Israelite never had that opportunity.  It was ingrained in
 him from birth:  the best belongs to the Lord.
 
             All the best of the oil, and all the best of the vintage, and of the grain, the first-fruits of them which they give unto Jehovah...The first-ripe fruits of all that is in their land, which they bring unto Jehovah… (Numbers 18:12-13)
 
             As a dedicated Hebrew watched his crops grow, his cattle bear, his vines hang lower and lower with the heaviness of ripening fruit, he knew that the best would not be for him, but an offering to the Lord.

              And this shall be the priests' due from the people, from them that offer a sacrifice, whether it be ox or sheep, that they shall give unto the priest the shoulder, and the two cheeks, and the maw. The first-fruits of your grain, of your new wine, and of your oil, and the first of the fleece of your sheep, shall you give him. For Jehovah your God has chosen him out of all your tribes, to stand to minister in the name of Jehovah, him and his sons forever. Deuteronomy 18:3-5.

              The pious Israelite knew that the best of the fruits of his labor would be eaten not by his family, but by Jehovah’s priests, his representatives on earth. 

              The first of the first-fruits of your ground you shall bring into the house of Jehovah your God. Exodus 23:19.

              Not just the firstfruits, but the first of the firstfruits—the best of the best—was required in his service to God.

              Most of us have learned that our weekly contribution of money must be “purposed” (2 Cor 9:7).  But we haven’t learned to apply that axiom to every aspect of our lives.  Too often God gets nothing but our leftover time, our leftover energy, our leftover effort.  I’ve heard Christians talk about exercising when their bodies are at their peak, about avoiding certain times of the day for important work, about matching body rhythms to tasks.  Do we ever talk like that our about service to God?  Do we offer service that is well planned, organized for maximum efficiency, and timed for greatest effect?  Yes, we often talk about caring for our temples (bodies) so we can use them for God, but then we use all that energy for everything else instead and still God gets the leftovers.

              The principle of the firstfruits was so important that Hezekiah included it in his great restoration (2 Chron 31:5).  It was deemed so necessary to a true attitude of worship that Nehemiah charged the returning exiles to keep those ordinances in particular (Neh 10:35-39).

              We sing a hymn:  “Give of Your Best to the Master.”  That principle has not changed.  In fact, we are the firstfruits (James 1:18), “brought forth by the word of truth.”  As such, God expects us to give ourselves.  If we do, the rest will follow.  If it hasn’t, maybe we need to take a closer look at our “devotion.”
 
…but they first gave themselves to God…2 Cor 8:5.                                    
 
Dene Ward                                                           

A father who won’t change dirty diapers probably won’t be much use to his children when the messes of life afflict them either. 

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. (Eph 6:4)

Keith Ward

My largest flower bed, a couple of hundred square feet, is about 75% volunteers.  Every year I plant a couple of new things, but by and large the plot reseeds itself with black-eyed Susans, zinnias, marigolds, and Mexican petunias.  Instead of planned formality it becomes a riot of color—orange, red, rust, pink, burgundy, purple, white, and tons of yellow.  About the first of June it is at its best, and has even been featured in the photos of friends and family.

              The black-eyed Susans have a way of coming up just about anywhere—in the field, in the yard, up by the gate, around the bird feeders.  I never know where one will shoot up during any given spring. A shallow ditch runs along the west side of my large riotous flower bed.  This year that ditch was full of black-eyed Susans—even more than in the bed.

              As the spring progressed, that ditch also became full of weeds and grass.  I spent over an hour one morning cleaning it out.  Along with it went some of those pretty, brown-centered, yellow flowers.  I thought about it long and hard, but I knew this:  those weeds would just get more and more entrenched and eventually choke out the flowers anyway.  And even if they didn’t, the flowers would just call attention to the tall grass around them, and all anyone would think would be, “Ugh.”  So I transplanted what I could back into the bed, hoping they would survive the rough treatment of having grass roots pulled out from among their own, and then just chopped out the rest along with all the weeds.  It’s not like I didn’t have a plethora of them anyway.  They are all over the property.

              Which brings me to this:  what we often think of as beauty can be completely overwhelmed by ugliness.  Why can’t our young men see that a beautiful young girl is anything but beautiful when she acts like a trollop and dresses like a harlot?  Why can’t a young woman see that a handsome young man spoils those good looks with the filthy words that come out of his mouth and the intemperate behavior of a drunk, or a lecher, or anything else he allows to control his life?  Why don’t they understand that if they are only attracted by outward beauty, their values are as shallow as a drop of water on a hot griddle, and just as likely to evaporate?  Maybe because we haven’t taught them any better.

              Many years ago I stood in the receiving line at a wedding and heard a few feet away a woman who claimed to be a Christian saying, “He’s such a good looking young man.  It’s a shame he couldn’t find someone prettier.”  Never mind the young bride in question had a beautiful and loving character, she wasn’t pretty enough on the outside.

              I have heard women getting excited over a new dress or a new pair of shoes and then bored about a conversion.  I have seen men eagerly discussing cars or guns or sports, and turning away in apathy at a spiritual discussion.  I have seen people happy to discuss their misfortunes to anyone who will listen, while ignoring their blessings.  Do you think our children don’t see these examples?

              We teach them what to care most about, and they follow our examples all through their lives.  If I want my child to develop a deep relationship with God, then it’s time I had one myself.

              Tell your children what true beauty is, and then show them.  Make yourself beautiful with your good works, with your kind demeanor, with your loving spirit.  If you don’t, they may never learn what constitutes true beauty until they are mired in a horrible relationship that eventually ruins their lives.  The flowers in the ditch may be beautiful, but is that really where you want them to spend their lives?
             
Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman with no discretion, Prov 11:22.
 
Dene Ward

We live thirty miles from the meetinghouse, about forty minutes with good traffic flow and no construction.  Otherwise it can be up to an hour. 
 
             To make the before-services meeting of the men who will be serving that day, we usually leave our house about 7:45 every Sunday morning.  One Sunday we passed a hitchhiker at the four-way stop a couple of miles from the house.  He was an older gentleman, decently dressed, holding a sign that said “Gainesville.”  So we stopped and picked him up.  We understood that he was taking a risk too, so as he settled into the backseat we mentioned that we were on the way to church and pointed out our stack of Bibles next to him.  This instantly set him more at ease, and he talked with us some. 

               He was on his way to work at Sears, a good thirty miles from the corner where we had picked him up, and several miles opposite where we were headed.  He didn’t have to be there till noon, but since he did not know how long it would take to get a ride, he had left his house on foot at seven-fifteen and made it to the corner where we found him.  His car had broken down and he was only able to buy a part a week as his paycheck came in, so until he fixed it, he was hitching rides.

              “But just take me as far as you can and I’ll thumb another ride and another until I get to the bus stop in front of Wal-Mart.  If I make it there by eleven I can get the bus I need in time.”  We took him all the way to Wal-Mart.

              Now just imagine this:  you find out your car doesn’t run on Saturday.  You live way out of town where no one else does.  How early would you be willing to get up to hitch a ride to a nine o’clock service?  That isn’t the half of it, people.  What other things do we miss doing for the Lord because we aren’t willing to make a sacrifice like that, because it’s so easy to say, “I can’t?”  This man was nearly 70 years old, yet he spent nearly five hours every morning getting to work, working a whole nine hour shift, and then more hours getting home after work—in the dark.  Have you ever gone to that much trouble for the Lord?

              The next Sunday the man was once again at the four-way stop.  We picked him up and dropped him off at Wal-Mart, after inviting him to sit with us at church till eleven, with an offer to take him straight to Sears afterwards.  He politely declined, and also declined to tell us exactly where he lived when we offered to pick him up and take him to work every day.  But he did tell us that his wife had died several years before and he had lost all his savings paying for her medical care.  “I have to have this job,” he said.  “I am only six payments from paying off my mortgage, but without a paycheck I will lose my home.”

              Ah!  There was the real motivation.  He didn’t want to lose his home, an old double wide on a rural lot.  He got up at 6:30 every day for a job that didn’t start till noon, so he could be sure of getting there.  And he did it so he wouldn’t lose a humble, barely comfortable home.

              We have a home waiting for us too, far better than that man had, a home that is eternal, “that fades not away.”  He didn’t want to lose his home.  Don’t we care whether we lose ours?
 
By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God, Heb 11:8-10.                      
 
Dene Ward

I first had one thirty-nine years ago in a rural community southwest of here.  The farm wife put them on the table in a clear gallon jar and we dug into the neck with a long skinny fork she must have found just for that job.  They were sweet, thin, crisp, gave a crunch as loud as a kettle-cooked potato chip and left a small twinge in your jaw right under your ear from the perfect amount of vinegar.  It was the first sweet pickle I had ever liked—I am more of a dill fan myself--but I was becoming more and more adept at canning and preserving and wanted to give this one a try since the whole family liked them.
 
             "Could I possibly have the recipe?" I asked her.

              She hesitated and I presumed it was one of her "secret" recipes that she did not like to share, but no, that was not the problem at all.

              "It's a really old recipe with strange directions," she said, "but if you can figure out what they mean and follow them carefully, it does work.  It is very important that you follow the directions carefully and don't change anything."

              My first thought was that she could easily write it so I could understand it, whatever the problem was, but when she handed it to me to copy for myself, I saw the issues right away.

              The recipe called for "a gallon of water and enough salt to float an egg." 

              "I've never measured it," she said.  "I just keep adding salt to a gallon of water until an egg floats."

              Oh, well, all right. 

            The next ingredient was "a ten cent tin of alum."  If you have bought any groceries lately, you have probably not seen anything for ten cents, and you probably haven't seen a tin of alum either.

              "Just find a small container of alum and buy it," were her not so helpful instructions.

              At least the rest of the directions were clear—sort of.  On day four when you layered cucumbers and sugar, you assumed it was granulated sugar and you also assumed that it needed to be enough sugar to form a real layer, not just a mere sprinkling.  She didn't really help me with that one.  "Until it looks right," doesn't help if you've never seen it before.

              But I took that recipe home and went at it.

              Day 1—Wash and slice enough cucumbers to fill a clear gallon jug.  Dissolve enough salt to float an egg in a bit less than a gallon of water, and pour over the cucumbers.  Put on the lid and set aside for 24 hours. 
              It must have taken me 15 minutes to get the salt right.  I kept adding it by the tablespoonful, determined to find a set amount and that stupid egg kept sinking right to the bottom of the pot.  Finally I tossed the tablespoon measure aside and just poured it in.  At something just over a cup, the egg sank under the water, then slowly rose so that a piece of shell the size of a quarter showed above the surface and the egg bobbed up and down freely when I jiggled the pan.

              Day 2—Pour out the salt water and rinse the cucumbers.  Dissolve the alum in the same amount of clean water and pour it over them.  Cover and set aside for another 24 hours.  I had finally found the alum at a small town grocery store just ten miles up the highway.  Even all those years ago, its price had risen nearly 700% to 69 cents.

              Day 3—Pour out the alum water and rinse the cucumbers.  Pour distilled white vinegar over them until covered.  By that third day, they had shrunk enough that the cucumbers no longer filled the gallon jar, and you needed nearly a gallon of vinegar to cover them.

              Day 4—Pour out the vinegar.  DO NOT RINSE.  Sterilize either a gallon glass jar or several pint jars.  Add a layer of pickles and then a layer of sugar, again and again until you fill the jar(s).  Put on the lid and set it in your pantry.  By this time, the pickles are so preserved, you don't even have to seal them!  In a week or two, the sugar will have dissolved and mixed with the vinegar that remains on the pickles and make the sweet pickle juice.  Chill before serving.

              My family loved these pickles.  Some days I put a new pint jar on the table with a meal and it was emptied by the time we finished eating.  And here is the thing I want you to think about today:  it was an old recipe.  It sounded a little odd.  In fact, I had to translate it here and there into something that fit today's ingredients.  But I still had to follow the recipe for it to turn out right—nothing was intrinsically different about what I did.  And it still worked.  Never have I seen another recipe like it.  No other pickle recipe tells me I don't have to seal them in a canner so that we don't all get botulism.  The procedure preserves them that well.

              God has a recipe too.  People today think it's odd.  They look at it and think it won't work anymore.  They think they can change it and it will still turn out fine.  Certainly no one's spiritual health will suffer if we just change this one little thing to suit us.

              Botulism is a pretty nasty disease.  So is sin.  So is disobedience.  Be careful when you decide that God's old recipe is too much trouble, too hard to understand, or no longer relevant.  I'd hate for you to get fatally ill over it.
 
Thus says Jehovah, Stand in the ways and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way; and walk therein, and you shall find rest for your souls: but they said, We will not walk therein.  And I set watchmen over you, saying, Hearken to the sound of the trumpet; but they said, We will not hearken.  Therefore hear, you nations, and know, O congregation, what is among them.  Hear, O earth: behold, I will bring evil upon this people, even the fruit of their thoughts, because they have not hearkened unto my words; and as for my law, they have rejected it. (Jer 6:16-19)
 
Dene Ward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I came across a reference to a Stephen Crane short story in which he stated that a certain character was not even a noun, but only an adverb.  I have never read that story, so I found myself pondering what in the world he must have meant by that. My mind wandered all over, eventually to spiritual matters.  How could one be an adverb instead of a noun? 

            Then it struck me.  What is it the apostle John says of God?  Not that He acts lovingly, but that He is love.  It is one thing to act in a loving manner on occasion, and quite another to be the very embodiment of love.

            If someone said of me that I had acted rudely, I would hope it was a momentary lapse in my usual behavior.  However, if someone said I was rudeness personified, it would mean that courtesy was a momentary lapse; that my habit was to behave rudely in practically every situation.  One is a stronger accusation than the other by far.  You can apologize for one.  The other requires a complete change in character. 

            If someone called you a Scrooge, you would instantly understand that they think you are greedy and miserly.  The Bible uses similar language when it uses terms like “sons of disobedience.” It is not that difficult a concept to grasp.

            So how would people describe me this morning?  Am I kindness personified?  Am I the embodiment of wisdom?  Or am I the epitome of childishness, or pettiness, or malice?  What noun are you?

            And then there is this further consideration:  can I even become a noun?  Am I too inconsistent or too weak to become what God requires of me on a regular basis?  Can I ever hope to have someone say of me, “She is love,” or, “She is joy,” or “She is faith?”

            A small thought for the morning, but one that could make a huge difference in our lives.
 
For the love of Christ constrains us; because we thus judge, that one died for all, therefore all died; and he died for all, that they that live should no longer live unto themselves, but unto him who for their sakes died and rose again…Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new, 2 Cor 5:14,15,17.
 
Dene Ward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you have followed this blog for any time at all, you know that I have come up with a memory verse method for preschoolers using cards with rebuses and smaller cards with only a picture or two from the rebus after the verse has been memorized.  Parents are constantly amazed by the amount their children can memorize.  (See the gallery for pictures of these and the two posts, The Return of the Stick Man, parts 1 and 2 in the archives on the right sidebar on July 10 and 11, 2017.)

You also know that I use games in my Bible classes, games I make from scratch.  (See the David Game in the same archives on July 12, 2017.)  In the grade school classes where all the children can now read, I put those two ideas together and make a Memory Verse Relay Race.  Tell your students about it during the first class.  You cannot start the game if they have not had at least four or five lessons with accompanying memory verses and this gives them motivation for keeping up with their lessons and memorizing those verses.

This is a simple concept and involves no artistic talent at all.  Write out the memory verses on two one-inch-wide strips of construction paper with a heavy marker.  Cut the verse into four or five phrases.  Mix up the strips of paper and paper clip each verse together to keep it separate from others.  Use a different color of pastel construction paper for each verse.  Make two copies of each verse and keep each pile separate as well.

You must have two adults in the room who also know the verses, and it is easier if the students are sitting at a long table, one team on each side, but I am sure you can come up with other configurations with just a little thought.

To start the race, the student on the near end chooses a clipped together verse from the pile next to him.  He puts the verse strips in the correct order, then raises his hand so the adult on his side of the table can check it.  When she gives the OK, he must mix it up, clip it back together and pass it on to the next student before grabbing another.  Now you have two students putting verses together.  When a hand is raised, check the verse. If it is correct, that student will also mix it up, clip it and pass it on.  Once you have three or four verses going you have to be on the ball about checking.  If a student's verse is not in the correct order, tell him so and let him try again.  After three tries, pass it on.  (You can come up with a penalty if you want, but actually I never had it come to this point.  Sooner or later, the student got it right.)

Meanwhile, the same thing is happening on the other side of the table.  It should be obvious why you need two adults for this to work.  The team that finishes all the verses first, passing verses instead of batons all the way to the other end of the table, wins.  As the quarter continues, you will add more verses until by the end, you have thirteen.  All my students loved this game, and I bet a lot of them still remember those verses.

This is exactly how simple making up games can be.  As long as they reinforce learning the scripture, there is nothing wrong with a little fun in Bible classes.
 
“And as for me, this is my covenant with them,” says the LORD: “My Spirit that is upon you, and my words that I have put in your mouth, shall not depart out of your mouth, or out of the mouth of your offspring, or out of the mouth of your children's offspring,” says the LORD, “from this time forth and forevermore.” (Isa 59:21)
 
Dene Ward