Today's book review is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
Our old Baker's Bible Atlas from our 70's classes at Florida College was not only outdated but so worn as to be tossed rather than moved when we relocated last year.  So we looked for a more up-to-date replacement once we got settled in.
 
Though the 1998 copyright shows it is 20 years out of date, HBA has a wealth of material written by a believer and color maps created by superior technology. And, I doubt any of the mountains or rivers have moved since its publication! It shows the reasons geography determined some events in the Bible not only in words but with detailed maps and graphics.
 
It provides just enough secular and Bible History to adequately supplement the inspired record and maps. Should one desire more, he needs to find appropriate history books.
 
I read it and recall no theology being pushed other than a belief in the Bible record.
 
My complaints are that the pages are too glossy and sometimes reflect in a way requiring maneuvering to get the light right to be able to read. This may be necessary to have the quality necessary for the excellent maps. And to read the detail on the maps, I needed a magnifying glass.
 
The Holman Bible Atlas is published by the B & H Publishing Group.
 
Keith Ward

This was according to the eternal purpose that he has realized in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and access with confidence through our faith in him, Ephesians 3:11-12.
 
            Ho-hum, I thought as I grabbed the concordance to look up yet another word in our study of faith.  Expecting to see that “boldness” was also translated courage, bravery, or some other obvious synonym, I found myself sitting up at attention instead. 
            This word for boldness here is not the usual word.  This one actually means boldness of speech.  In fact, the one Greek word is translated by those three English words more than once as in 2 Cor 3:12, “Having therefore such a hope, we use great boldness of speech.”  If you have a modern translation, as I did my ESV that day, you will miss it.  Pull out your old 1901 ASV and you will see the three word phrase.  Then pull out your King James, “ …we use great plainness of speech.”
            That means, according to that verse at the top, you can talk freely—and plainly—to God.  You don’t have to worry that God will take things the wrong way.  You don’t have to worry that God will misinterpret your meaning.  You don’t have to worry that He will take offense like some people who make a career out of getting their feelings hurt.
            When you are disappointed, you can talk to Him.
            When you are depressed and discouraged, you can talk to Him.
            When you are mad, you can talk to Him.
            When you want to ask why, you can.
            When you want to feel a little sorry for yourself, you can.
            When you need to vent, you can.
            God says, be plain, be bold, tell me what you need to tell me—I am here for you.
            That verse in Ephesians says we can do this because of faith.  If you don’t believe God cares this much for you, that He will listen to anything and everything, that He actually wants you to feel free to talk to Him, then somewhere your faith is lacking. 
            It isn’t faith to say, God doesn’t want to hear this.
            It isn’t faith to say, my problems are too small to bother God with them.
            It isn’t faith to say, God is busy with more important things right now.
            Faith speaks.
            Faith speaks freely.
            Faith shares whatever needs to be shared whenever it needs sharing—just ask Job.
            Tell God how you feel today.
 
A Psalm of David:  Hear my cry, O God; Attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I call unto you, when my heart is overwhelmed: Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been a refuge for me, A strong tower from the enemy. I will dwell in your tabernacle for ever: I will take refuge in the shelter of your wings. Selah. Psalms 61:1-4
 
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

I was driving back from Bible class, coming down the last hill before the river, rolling green fields dotted with black cattle on the right, and a couple of old trailer houses perched on the left, their yards littered with rusty old farm equipment, screens hanging loose on porches covered with peeling paint, and black and brown frosted-off weeds standing knee high.  It may surprise you that I was driving.  I have reached that point where the doctor is the one who decides if I can have a driver’s license, and it seems the general consensus is that it doesn’t matter if you can tell if that thing by the side of the road is a garbage can, a mailbox, or a midget, as long you know it’s there and don’t hit it.
            But I was really tired.  Most of my medications are beta blockers of one sort or another, or poisons that affect my heartbeat.  Sometimes I am lucky to have a pulse rate of 52 and blood pressure just scraping the bottom side of 100, the top number that is.  The bottom one might be half that. 
            I had just bought groceries for the week, picked up a prescription and some dry cleaning, stood in line at the post office for twenty minutes and taught a Bible class, not to mention driving the hour and a half round trip back and forth to town.  I was ready to sit out the rest of the day, after I got home and unloaded.
            But my weary mind forgot that I was driving and told me to lean back and relax.  I know my eyes weren’t closed longer than half a second, but when my brain caught up with what I was doing and I snapped to, my pulse was racing along just fine.  Good thing I was only five miles from home.            
            And that’s when I forgot that these medications are a blessing, that without them I wouldn’t see at all, and wouldn’t have for several years now.  That’s when I railed against a gift of God.  It’s not enough that I have no energy.  I must also put up with the discomfort of follicular conjunctivitis every minute of every day as a side effect, and nearly constant headaches from the blurry vision that accompanies it.  How can this be a blessing?
            Down days happen, usually when things pile up.  Once again we needed something we couldn’t afford.  Once again we had received bad news about a parent’s health.  Once again something broke down.  My vision had decreased another line at my last checkup.  Keith’s RA had broken through the latest, the third, layer of medication and we weren’t sure it could be knocked down without another layer.  And now I come dangerously close to an accident that could have hurt not just me but an innocent bystander.
            So down I spiraled.  When even blessings—like the medications that keep you seeing—become something you want to curse because all you can focus on are the side effects, you are too far down, and it’s time to find your way out.
            Down days aren’t so much about a lack of faith as they are about a moment’s forgetfulness.  They are about looking for the wrong things, or looking at the right things the wrong way.  This wretched medicine makes me feel horrible, I sometimes think on a down day.  On an up day I remember, this wonderful medicine has kept me seeing long enough to see my grandchildren.
            I don’t for a minute compare myself to John, and I certainly have no idea what his feelings were, but if I had been in his shoes—or in his cell—I might have needed a reminder too.  He had given up so much to fulfill his role in God’s plan as the forerunner of the Messiah.  Yet now, when he has done all that was expected of him, he is cast into prison for speaking the truth.  Surely God would save this righteous man, the one of whom the Messiah himself would say, “Of those born of women, none is greater than John,” Luke 7:28.  But no, day after day he languishes in a prison cell at the mercy of a wicked woman and her weak husband. 
            I would have had a down day or two as I came to realize that my work was finished, that perhaps I, too, was finished, at the completely un-ripe young age of 31 or so.  I don’t know if that is why or not, but he sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one, or should we look for another?” (7:20) 
            The Lord sent him what he needed to hear.
            "Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me." Luke 7:22-23.
            John already knew those things; he had probably seen many of them.  He just needed to be reminded, and there is no shame in that. 
God can remind each one of us too.  He does it by the providential words and actions of your brethren.  He does it when a hymn suddenly wafts through your mind.  He does it by giving us His Word, a resource of constant refreshment when we need it.  How many of us don’t have verses we go to in difficult moments?  If you don’t, then you need to make some time today to find one.  Find it before you need it.  Find it, and let the Lord remind you about all of your blessings, both now and to come. 
            You can come up from a down day, but only if you reach out and take hold of the help that is offered.
 
They who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31.
 
Dene Ward

Some of you have been in on the drama from my latest surgery.  It was a surgery I dreaded, but knew from experience needed to happen.  The last time I had this same surgery with the left eye, it took months to recover.  Several complications set in almost immediately, the pain was nearly unbearable, and I lost not only my appetite but my sense of taste as well.  When I could not even tolerate mashed potatoes, a special treat for a woman who always fights her weight, I knew it was bad.  Keith actually put a New York Strip in front of me, knowing I am a raging carnivore, and I could only manage about four tiny bites.  I was so light sensitive I had to wear two pairs of sunglasses and still drape a bandanna over the offending eye.  And speaking of offending eyes, yes, indeed, I was thinking about plucking it out.  After nine months, we had to do it all over again, but the surgeon said he thought he had learned a trick or two, and that time I was only out of commission for about six weeks.  And that time it worked.
            So when the same symptoms began on the other eye, something more than one doctor had said would eventually happen, I knew what we were in for and yes, dread is not too strong a word.  Neither is terrified.  So bright and early on the morning of surgery I had barely opened my eyes when the phone rang.  An electrical problem in the operating room had caused the equipment to malfunction.  All surgeries were cancelled.  Talk about a letdown.  And another source of terror as well.  A month before, when the doctor had originally scheduled the surgery, he had told me that if I did not have it in that month's time, I could lose the eye.  So now what?
            Two hours later, the surgery scheduler called to reschedule.  The date was another month away.  "That won't do," I told her, then repeated my doctor's warning.
            "Well, it's the only date we have, but I will call the clinic and check with him."  And so I waited all day for a call that never came.
            The next day had already been scheduled for a post-op appointment, so, rather than canceling, I went in.  At least they could check my eye and see how it was doing and I could tell the doctor myself what they had told me.  When he walked into the room he apologized for the malfunctioning OR, which was certainly not his fault.  He said he had even tried to get us in at the closest hospital and could not.  Then he asked, "So did they schedule you for next week?"  At that I knew the scheduler had never even talked with him.  I told him what I had been told—another month.  He immediately went to the phone, which he placed on speaker, and called the scheduler.  He told her my name.  He said, "She must have surgery next Monday.  She cannot wait.  Call me when you get it done."  I heard a meek, "Yes sir."  Then he looked at me and told me I would get a call.
            I had not been home for 15 minutes when I did indeed get a call.  My surgery was scheduled for the next Monday.  (The doctor only does surgeries on Mondays.)  No waiting, no wondering, no pleading.  They even had my new post-op appointments made and the old ones cancelled.  That's what happens when THE BOSS tells you what to do.  Probably has something to do with that affecting one's paycheck.
            Don't you wonder sometimes what would happen in this world if the heavens opened and God spoke from them?  Don't you wish for it?  But hasn't it happened before with little if any results?  Elijah called down fire from heaven and within hours he was running for his life and so depressed he wanted to die.  Jesus performed all sorts of miracles witnessed by thousands and they came to him saying, "Show us a sign."  He raised Lazarus from the dead and it just added another name to the hit list. 
            But one day, everyone will listen, and everyone will know and will wish they had listened sooner, because then it will be too late.  They will bow, they might even worship, but they will be listened to the same way I was when I told that scheduler what the doctor wanted.  To her I was just a melodramatic little old lady who didn't know what she was talking about and wanted preferential treatment.  She found out I wasn't.  Let's not let that happen in something far more important.
 
Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Phil 2:9-11).
 
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 on sale) 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, four 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
 
 

Although I had babysat a few times and had piano students on Saturday mornings from the time I was 16, it wasn’t quite the same as my first job.  I answered a classified ad at a concrete plant a couple of miles down the road from our house.  I expected to sit in an assembly line sorting tiles with a bunch of other women, dust rising and coating us through the heat of summer days, forty-two and a half hours a week, at minimum wage.  I lucked out.  I had written on my application that I could type and the yard boss grabbed me for his office girl that summer.  I got to wear dresses and sit in air conditioned comfort instead of sweating in blue jeans in the old tin building out back.
            But just like those other women, I didn’t get paid until payday.  I never once expected anything else.  The boss was not going to walk around handing out checks to anyone for work they hadn’t yet done.  Yet we kept on working, sure that on Friday afternoon the checks would come out. 
            I wonder about us sometimes and our expectations of God.  We walk by faith and not by sight, Paul said in 2 Cor 5:7.  Without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him, the writer says in Hebrews 11:6.  Yes, God is a rewarder, but not yet.  Certainly we receive blessings in this life, but the best this life has to offer is a far cry from the final reward.  True faith does not expect Heaven now.
            The Psalmist tells us in 33:18 that God will take care of the one who fears him, will, in fact, “deliver his soul in famine.”  I probably would never have noticed this forty years ago, but it jumped right out at me the morning I read this psalm.  He will save us “in famine”—it doesn’t say we will never have to experience a famine.  Paul says we are to “fight the good fight,” 1 Tim 6:12, he doesn’t say God will keep us out of any sort of fight at all.  Our faith will be a shield and breastplate for us (Eph 6:16; 1 Thes 5:8), but it won’t be a peace treaty with the Devil.
            Habakkuk had a hard time understanding God’s reasoning in this matter.  How could a righteous God use a nation even more wicked than His people had become to punish them?  We should never act like we can call God on the carpet and tell Him, “Explain yourself!”  Habakkuk understood that himself, so God gave him the only answer he really needed, “The just shall live by his faith.”
            By the end of the book Habakkuk knew that didn’t mean no one would die.  He knew it didn’t mean they wouldn’t experience horrible things.  And we shouldn’t expect that either.  Despite what so many preach about “health and wealth” to the true believer, this world is not Heaven and God never promised it would be.  He simply promised understanding for what we are experiencing and the help to get through it. 
            It is for us to come to the conclusion Habakkuk finally did in a paean to hope that explains how we all make it through tough times, not just me and my problems, or you and yours, but each of us in the life we have before us and its own peculiar trials and tribulations.  We wait, as he did, for the troubles to come—and they will—and we rejoice.
           
I hear, and my body trembles; my lips quiver at the sound; rottenness enters into my bones; my legs tremble beneath me. Yet I will quietly wait for the day of trouble to come upon people who invade us. Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. GOD, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places. Habakkuk 3:16-19
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Doy Moyer.

There is “a time to weep and a time to laugh” (Eccl 3:4). This is an important realization for the child of God. Weeping and laughter both have their place. We often talk about dealing with heartache, pain, and recognize the place that weeping plays, but what about laughter? 

Is it a stretch to say that we need a sense of humor? Do we ever laugh at ourselves? Do we find circumstances in life sometimes to be humorous? Perhaps we’ll just laugh about that later. Humor often comes naturally. Children love to play and laugh. When he was three, my grandson would come to me, rub his belly, and say, “Big tickle?” He wanted to laugh, and I would usually oblige. As children grow, telling jokes becomes part of children’s conversations, however silly they may be. Humor and laughter are simply a part of who we are as humans. Perhaps even this aspect of our nature is a reflection of our God, for He built it into us. 

Some of us (myself included) seem pretty serious a good bit of the time.  I know that my sense of humor can be dry at times, and sometimes it’s fun to keep people guessing (don’t judge). On the other hand, there are the ridiculous moments. My poor kids grew up with many “groaners”—the puns, the ludicrous etymologies, the chicken voice songs… don’t ask. Seriously. Laughing with my children was always important to me. 

In the middle of all the difficulties and trials, laughter still has a place. “When a face is sad a heart may be happy” (Eccl 7:3). Sorrow is also good for the soul, but those who sorrow can sometimes find a happy heart. Families gathering at a funeral for a loved one will often laugh about humorous moments as they reminisce together. This does a heart good. Here the time to weep and the time to laugh aren’t far removed from each other and may be part of the same occasion. 

When the peculiarities and problems of life get us down, God has built into us a way to help relieve stress and pressure. We don’t want to laugh at inappropriate times, but we shouldn’t shun laughter altogether. Too much avoidance of laughter may have the effect of furthering a broken spirit. “A joyful heart makes a cheerful face, but when the heart is sad, the spirit is broken” (Prov 15:13). 

Laughter does not mean that the one who is able to laugh is making light of the difficulties and problems of this world. We understand that “even in laughter the heart may be in pain” (Prov 14:13), but that doesn’t negate the fact that laughter can be good medicine. “A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones” (Prov 17:22). A heart can be joyful when not laughing, but laughter can be a sign of a joyful heart. The point is that it’s good for us from time to time to let loose a good laugh. Once in a while, it does us good to have one of those all-out howling, fall on the floor, lose our breath kind of laughs. It may not be pretty, but … it’s funny. Sometimes we may even start laughing just because others are laughing. It doesn’t have to make sense. We may just need to laugh, and that’s okay. Go ahead. 

We do need to be careful with what we laugh about. There is a great deal of worldly humor out there that is not fit for the children of God. Good, clean humor can be difficult to come by, and this is lamentable. We must be discerning because the world won’t be. Yet humor doesn’t necessarily need to come from outside sources like tv shows and professional comedians. Normal life has enough humorous moments if we are willing to lighten up a little, not take ourselves so seriously all the time, and laugh at ourselves when we create our own awkward situations. We surely don’t want to laugh at the expense of another’s feelings; we should never laugh at someone, particular in mockery or in violation of treating others as we would want to be treated (Matt 7:12). If we show that we can laugh at ourselves, however, we are showing good character. Taking ourselves too seriously all the time can be a sign of pride and conceit, and we can easily become bitter, angry, disgruntled people in the process. 

Balance is key. Those who find everything funny can be difficult because they rarely wish to think about serious matters, but those who never find anything humorous may not be very encouraging. A good, clean sense of humor will go a long way in both helping ourselves through a hard world and in encouraging others. Sharing a good laugh with another will make for some priceless moments and wonderful memories. Don’t neglect the “time to laugh.” God has made us to enjoy laughter at appropriate times. 

Doy Moyer
Taken from
Doy's blog Searching Daily
 

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

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 south 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?  But of course, the Preacher does reach this conclusion as you read on in Ecclesiastes:  Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole of man, Eccl 12:13.
            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