In case you haven't noticed, I have a guest writer at the end of every month.  As usual, today is my husband, Keith.

In his first recorded sermon to the Gentiles, the apostle Paul declared that God fulfilled the promises made to the Patriarchs “in that he raised up Jesus as it is written, thou art my son, this day have I begotten thee” (Ax 13:33).  Therefore, in the spiritual sense, the resurrection day was Christ’s birthday as the Son of God. Paul expands our understanding, “who was declared the son of God with power by the resurrection from the dead” (Rom 1:4). So, by the resurrection God declared that Jesus was his son. Yes, Logos existed with God and was God from eternity, before time was; yes, God twice declared from heaven, "This is my son in whom I am well pleased.”  Yet, the resurrection was the final stamp of approval that made it official and proclaimed to all, “Thou art my Son.”

I believe the tomb was empty that Sunday morning so many centuries ago.  Do you?  Jesus appeared to hundreds who would witness to all who would hear, “He is risen” (1 Cor 15:5-8). That resurrection is a historical fact and its impact is measured in the lives of thousands, then and now. Has that glory touched you?

Paul declared that baptism replicates the resurrection (Rom 6:3-6).  We are buried (immersed) in water as he was buried in the earth; we are raised (not drowned) from that water to new lives.  It is by the “working of God” that this baptism is a declaration, “Thou art my son.”  If one does not believe in Jesus, if his dedication is not with all his heart and soul and might, then baptism is just a dunking. If he does, then God works through Jesus’ resurrection, making a man’s emergence from the water a resurrection from the death of sin into a life of sonship (Col 2:12).

Being a “good person” is not enough. I must ask myself, “Have I truly begun my journey of faith by the commitment wherein God declares, ‘Thou art my son?’”  From baptism, I must press on.  I cannot doubt the seriousness of Paul’s commitment and yet even he prayed “to be found in him…having a …righteousness through faith in Christ that I may know him and the power of his resurrection” (Phil 3:9-10).

Baptism is not merely a one time action; it is a commitment to sonship that determines the choices we make and the way we live. God declared that we were His children based upon our absolute commitment at baptism. He continues to declare that we are “in him” because we live in the power of Jesus’ resurrection and are overcoming daily through him (1 Jn 4:4).

We must all ask, “Does my faith overpower life so that God continually declares, ‘Thou art my son?’”

…because they formerly did not obey, when God's patience waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was being prepared, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were saved through water. Baptism, which corresponds to this, now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, 1 Peter 3:20-21

Keith Ward.

Hindsight, rather than being 20/20 and helping us understand better, can often blind us when studying the Bible, particularly the life of Jesus.  Every time we see something Jesus did, we see it complete with the Son of God “halo” over his head and miss the effect it would have had on the people then.  What they saw was Josh, the son of Joe Carpenter, John 6:42.  (Joshua is Hebrew for Jesus.)

Let’s try this:  Imagine five or six of the most stable, godly, faithful Christian women you know.  Go ahead, name them out loud—real people with faces you can see in your mind.  Now imagine they suddenly started following around some itinerant preacher who vilified the leading men of your congregation (Matt 23), taught things that seemed opposite of what you had heard all your life (Matt 5,6), and actually threw things and people out of the meetinghouse (John 2, Mark 11).  Not only that, but every time he needed something, these women whipped out their checkbooks and took care of it for him.  And he wasn’t even handsome (Isa 53:2).  What would you think?  Have they gone nuts?!!!    

And it came to pass that he went about through cities and villages teaching…along with certain women who ministered to them of their substance.  Luke 8:1-3

Susanna, Joanna, Mary Magdalene and others, probably Mary and Martha, and Aunt Salome, too, were those stable, godly, faithful women.  “They were following Jesus,” we think, “so it was perfectly normal,” and miss the sacrifices they made and the courage they had.  They were probably the topic of conversation in every home in their communities.  Can’t you just hear the women gossiping, and the men mocking their husbands?  “You mean he actually let’s her get away with that?  Just who wears the biggest robes in his family, anyway?”  They also risked being kicked out of the synagogue, which would have put an end to their social lives and maybe their economic lives as well. 

Would I have been as brave?  Would you?  Are we that brave now, or do we find ourselves saying things like, “We need to be careful what the community thinks about us.  We don’t want to be controversial.  Why, they may think we’re fanatics!”  There are times when you just can’t worry about what other people think.

The next time you study, remember, you are looking from only one perspective and sometimes that blinds you to things that should be obvious.  Clear your mind and appreciate what these people went through, and try to be as strong and brave as they were.

And who is he that will harm you if you are zealous of that which is good?  But even if you should suffer for righteousness’s sake, blessed are you and fear not their fear, neither be troubled, but sanctify in your hearts Christ as Lord, being ready always to give answer to every man who asks you a reason concerning the hope that is in you, yet with meekness and fear, having a good conscience that, wherein you are spoken against they may be put to shame who revile your good manner of life in Christ. 1 Pet 3:13-16

Dene Ward

Getting old is the pits or, as is popular to say among my friends, it isn’t for wimps. 

I remember when I used to run 30 miles a week and exercise another 5 hours besides.  I lifted light weights and did aerobics and the standard floor exercises for abs and glutes and those floppy chicken wings on the back of your arms—triceps, I think they’re called.  I didn’t like the notion of waving hello to the people in front of me and having those things wave goodbye to the people behind me at the same time.

Now, due to doctor’s orders, I have to limit how much I pick up, how long I bend over, and how much and how strenuous the activity I participate in.  Good-bye slim, svelte body (as much as it ever could be with my genes), and hello floppy chicken wings.  Now I can only do a little and boy, does it show—and hurt!

I was doing a little step work the other day (very little) when a knife-sharp stab stopped me in my tracks.  Yeow!  What was that?  So I stepped up again and found out immediately—it was something deep inside my knee.  I stopped and thought.

In all that exercising over the years I have learned at least a little bit about it.  For example, if you change the angle of your body, suddenly you feel the work in a different muscle, sometimes on a completely different part of your body.  When I took that step up, I was using nothing but my knee, a very fragile joint—how many professional athletes have had their careers cut short with a knee injury?  Lifting that much weight over and over and over, even for just the ten minutes I allowed it, was too much for that little joint to bear alone. 

So I focused on changing the working muscle.  All it took was putting the entire foot on the step instead of just my toes, and pushing up from my heel on each repetition.  Suddenly, the large muscle mass from my legs and up through the small of my back was doing all the work (especially that extra large muscle), and my knee scarcely hurt at all.  Ha!  I finished my allotment of sweating for the day with no pain, and only a mild ache where it really needed to be aching in the first place.

That’s exactly what happens to us when we try to bear our burdens alone.  All we are is a fragile little knee joint, when what we need is a huge mass of muscle.  Cast your burden on the Lord and he will sustain you, David said in Psa 55:22.  Do you think that strong warrior didn’t need help at times?  But David was greatly distressed…[and he] strengthened himself in the Lord his God, 1 Sam 30:6.  David was not too macho to know when he needed help and where to get it.

Too many times we try to gain strength from everything but God--money, portfolios, annuities, doctors, self-help programs, counseling, networking, anything as long as we don’t have to confess a reliance on God.  It isn’t weak to depend upon your Almighty Creator—it’s wisdom and good common sense.  The Lord is my helper, I will not fear; what can man do to me? asked the Hebrew writer in 13:6.  Indeed, not only is what man can do to you nothing compared to the Lord’s power, what he can do for you is even less. 

When life starts stabbing you in the heart with pain, anxiety, and distress shift your focus.  Remember who best can bear the weight of sin and woes, and let Him make that burden easy enough for you to handle.  I still had to use my knees that day, but they certainly felt a lot better than they did before, and even better the next morning.  By yourself, you will do nothing but ruin your career (Eph 4:1) with a knee injury, but you and the Lord can handle anything.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:6-7

Dene Ward

When I was a child I learned quickly that meeting with the saints was more important than anything else I might like to do at the given time.  My earliest memories of our faith are sitting in my mother’s lap while my Daddy led the singing, and then sitting on the front pew with him when my little sister came along and usurped my throne.  On Sunday and Wednesday we went to services.  Every night of every gospel meeting we went to services.  Every time the people of God met together, we met with them, and neither convenience, nor school functions, nor social gatherings of any kind got in the way.  As soon as we found out there was a conflict, there wasn’t one, because my parents taught us that nothing and no one was more important than God. 

Nowadays it has become fashionable to not only dismiss the assemblies as unimportant, but to talk about anyone who thinks they are as “Sunday morning Christians” at best, and Pharisaical hypocrites at worst.  That was not true in my family.  In my house at least, the assemblies were object lessons:  if you won’t do this easy thing for the Lord, will you ever do anything more difficult? 

My parents lived their lives the rest of the week as godly servants of others, visiting the sick, cooking and carrying food to those who needed it, showing hospitality, sending financial support to preachers in need, buying supplies for poor churches they had heard about, and keeping themselves pure from the worldliness that surrounded them, even when it made them unpopular with their extended family, neighbors, and co-workers.  And they also taught their children to follow in their steps, children who have now taught 9 grandchildren, beginning early on, that gathering with God’s people is important.  All the accountable ones are faithful Christians seven days a week.

Do you think God’s people have ever thought that the assembly rituals were the only thing there was to their religion?  The Law of Moses was intricately bound up in the everyday lives of God’s people.  It wasn’t just “Remember the Sabbath to keep it holy,” and nothing else.  Sacrifices were required for various times in their lives, the birth of children, death in the family and other times of uncleanness, sin offerings, and thanksgiving other than the mandated feast days.  Harvest time meant remembering to leave the corners and the missed crop behind for the poor.  It meant time for tithing the increase.  The Law pervaded their lives and these things were done any and every day of the week. 

Even in Jesus’ time the people led lives of worship.  The Pharisees fasted twice a week, not on the Sabbath but on Monday and Thursday, ordinary weekdays.  Jewish families lined the doors and walls of their houses with scriptures—the original post-it notes.  Their lives revolved around the feast days, which demanded making extensive travel plans and saving money for the trip all year long.  They had rabbis in their homes to ask them questions and hear them teach.  That’s how Jesus often wound up among them. 

All these people worshipped throughout the week, but it wasn’t the instant cure for hypocrisy some seem to think, was it?  Many of those labeled hypocrites by the Lord looked down on others for not being as enlightened as they were.  Sort of like folks today who think they are better than anyone who dares utter the phrase “Sunday worship service.”

Perhaps these people should get off their high horse and follow the Lord’s example.  Even if they don’t think the assemblies are important, Jesus did.  Where was the first place we find him seeing to “His Father’s business?”  He met with God’s people in the synagogues all the time, and synagogue worship was only a tradition, not something included in the Law.  He attended the feast days, including the one which was simply a civil holiday.  He taught the apostles to do the same.  Paul went to the synagogues expecting to find there the best prospects for the gospel—imagine that!  Too bad some of our more informed brethren couldn’t be there to teach him better.

Of course Sunday morning isn’t all there is to it.  God never meant it to be, but don’t become an unrighteous judge of people who believe it is important.  That’s how a lot of us learned about serving God, not only by being there for the Bible study, but by putting it first over every other worldly thing in our lives, even if they weren’t sinful things.  Babes must crawl before they can run. 

 Hebrews commands us to consider one another to provoke one another to love and good works.  That’s what we do when we meet together.  It isn’t love to look on your brethren with contempt, and that’s what I am seeing in these prideful attitudes of instant dismissal when anyone speaks of our gatherings as “worship.” 

Seems to me, someone needs to be provoked a little more.

Acts 1:13,14; 2:1; 2:42; 2:46; 6:1-3; 14:27; 20:7; 1 Cor 5:4; 11:17-28; all of chapter 14; Heb 10:23-25—the reasons we gather.  I will let you choose the one you think is most important.  Better yet—read them all.

Dene Ward

While my students did win solo awards in piano solo, art song, and musical theater, our specialty seemed to be piano ensembles.  The point of an ensemble is not just to play the right notes at the right time, but to make a piano duet sound like one person with four hands and a trio like one person with six.  Not an easy thing to do when one partner plays with a heavy hand and the other with light finger work, one with the ebb and flow of rubato and the other the steadiness of a machine.

My teacher friends laughed at me when they saw all my students make a point to approach the piano together, sit at the same time, put their hands on and off the keys at the same time, then stand together and leave together.  I guess they never thought about whose students were bringing back trophies and whose weren’t.  The point of all that togetherness was to infuse oneness into them.  Your performance starts from the moment your names are called; that single four- or six-handed creature acted as one from then till they hit their seats in the audience afterward.

The performance aspects were trickier.  Who has the melody?  Does the partner have a counter-melody or an oom-pah-pah chordal accompaniment?  Does the partner enter with the same melody a few bars later?  How can the one with the steady underlying rhythm make it stable enough to help the syncopated partner, without overpowering him?  Are the dynamics terraced or interlaced?  How each partner plays his part depends upon the answer to all those questions.  What a lot to remember and listen for. 

I had one duo that excelled at all of this.  They played together for ten years and by the time the older graduated from high school, I was positive they were even breathing in sync while they performed.  They played pieces where one partner got up, walked around the piano and sat down to play again; then later in the piece got up and went back to his original position, all without stopping, without errors, and without one of them falling off the bench!  They played pieces where the one higher on the keyboard picked up his hand and put it between the other’s two hands and then continued playing, without a hitch.  If you were not watching, you would not know anything had happened.  Once they played a piece where one’s left hand was on the black keys above the other’s right hand on the white keys, and they never once got in each other’s way.  Now that’s teamwork.  (Did I mention that Nathan was one of the partners?)

Perfecting the piece was not enough for them.  They even created entrances, with both walking down opposite aisles exactly together and approaching the judges’ bench from opposite directions with a flourish precisely at the same time in the middle of the front row.  At the end of the piece they each crossed the outside hand to bounce off the last note with the inside hand, and held their hands up for exactly the same three count—non-verbally.  They simply knew each other that well.

And I remember my baby duet.  A little stepbrother and -sister act in the Primary 1 category performing “O Susanna.”  When one had the melody the other played softer; when the other came in with the melody, the first one pulled her tone way down almost instinctively, and then back up again when it was her turn.  These were 8 year olds, mind you, and it was flawless, seamless, and so amazing the judges looked at each other as soon as it happened.  I knew then we had it, and sure enough, we did.

That is what teamwork is all about.  You know that old coach’s saying, “There is no I in team?”  Unfortunately, many people still manage to spell “me,” and the team is never as unified as it could be.  Teamwork means doing what is best for the group.  It means constantly putting someone else ahead of me.  It means making an objective judgment of what is most important at a given time and not forcing my issues to the forefront if they are less critical than another’s.  It means not complaining if I don’t have the lead and trying to horn my way in anyway.  It means not whining when I don’t get the praise I think I deserve.  If one of my students had said, “I don’t care if I don’t have the melody.  I am just as important as her, so I’m playing my chords just as loudly,” they would have never won anything.  In fact, they would never have gotten a superior at the district level and not made it to the state competition.  What’s best for me will very often ruin it for everyone else.  And we all need to have that feeling.   If we do, no one feels left out or unappreciated. 

Why is it that we cannot see these things when we are the ones involved?  Are we really so dense?  Is it pride?  Is it arrogance?  Is it our rights-oriented society?  Whatever it is, we need to get over it, so the church can once again make known the manifold wisdom of God, Eph 3:10, and we, through our unity, can cause the world to believe, John 17:21.

Doing nothing through faction or through vainglory, but in lowliness of mind, each counting other better than himself, not looking each of you to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others.  Phil 2:3,4     

Dene Ward

Last spring, just like every spring for the past 37 years, we planted the garden. That early in the year, the heat is not bad, the humidity is low, and the sub-tropical sun leaves us with only a moderate sunburn.  We came in with dirty clothes and aching backs, sat down together, leaned forward with crossed fingers on each hand held tightly at our temples, squeezed our eyes shut and said, “I hope, I hope, please, please, please grow.” 

Do you for one minute believe that?  No, we counted five days ahead, and then went out that evening and looked for what we were sure would be there, seedlings poking their heads through the clods of earth, and sure enough, there they were.

Our definition of hope is very much as I described, like a couple of middle school girls who “hope” a certain cute boy will look their way, or a teacher will change the due date on a big project, or a “mean” girl won’t spread some sort of embarrassing news about them.  “Please, please, please, maybe, maybe, maybe.”  That is not the Bible definition of hope. 

I knew that, but I am not sure how much I really understood it until I did a study on hope and found passage after passage that made it abundantly clear.

…Waiting for our blessed hope, Titus 2:13.  That’s “waiting” like waiting for the bus at the regular stop, not like you just walked out one morning with absolutely no knowledge of the city transit system, sat down on the side of the road and “hoped” you had guessed right.

…The full assurance of hope, Heb 6:11, not just a hint that it might be possible, but completely sure it will happen.

Hope is a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, Heb 6:19.  How would you like to use the hope we often express as a “maybe” as your anchor in the middle of a storm?

…Hope of eternal life, which God, who cannot lie, promised, Titus 1:2. 

Peter says that our salvation is “ready to be revealed,” 1 Pet 1:5, a salvation he makes synonymous to the “hope” in verse 3.  It’s like a portrait on an easel covered by a satin cloth, just waiting for the unveiling.  God has prepared that salvation “from the foundation of the world,” Matt 25:34.  No one is up there still hammering away on the off chance it might be ready when you need it.  It is already there, available whenever the Lord decides to give it.  Sure.  Certain.  There is nothing cross-your-fingers “maybe, maybe, maybe,” about it.

Farming is tricky enough with weather, pests, and plant diseases abounding.  If a man had to wonder whether or not a seed would sprout where he planted it, who would ever even try?  Paul uses that very example in 1 Cor 9:10: for our sake it was written that he who plows ought to plow in hope, and he who threshes to thresh in hope of partaking.

Our hope is like planting seeds.  They will come up, and it will come about.  It’s time we left middle school behind with its string of maybes, and became adults who understand the assuredness of our hope, and then use that certainty to strengthen us in whatever situations life holds.

Now our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word,  2 Thessalonians 2:16-17.

Dene Ward

I ran a piano and voice studio off and on—between babies and moves—for 37 years, the last 23 in a row in one place with no “offs.”  I entered my students into several evaluations and competitions a year.  About 20 years ago, I discovered a state competition for students who made “superior” ratings at the district level.  I asked around and two well-meaning teachers told me that I needn’t bother taking my students because no one from Union County could possibly win.  Winners usually came from the Miami area, students of retired concert artists, students with a concert career in mind, willing to practice for several hours a day.

Always looking for motivation, at my next student meeting I told them about the competition and passed along the opinions, “Your students can’t possibly win.”  Their reaction began with head-shaking confusion followed by red-faced indignation, and finally, steely-eyed determination.  From that point on they had a mission.

Unfortunately, our first trip proved my friends correct.  We won absolutely nothing.  Besides the disadvantages I mentioned before, the groups we competed in were sometimes as large as 80 with only one winner and three or four honorable mentions chosen from “superior” rated students all across the state.  But they did not give up—they learned to do better.   

And sure enough, the next year we had a winner.  Every year after that we brought home at least one winner, and one year we outdid every other group in the state:  nine students with performance wins (one of whom was my son Nathan), three state officers elected, including state vice-president and president (Nathan), and a $200 summer music camp scholarship winner (did I mention that Nathan won that?). 

How did they manage this?  Things that had never made any difference to them at all suddenly became important.  We taped their performances at lessons and they would sit and pick themselves apart—I seldom said a word.  All of a sudden they could hear that their tempo was not steady, that their melody got lost in the underlying harmonies, that their dynamic shading was practically nonexistent; that their vocal placement was wrong, that their diphthongs were too wide, that their tone was unsupported. 

Most importantly I think, this group became a team.  Several times during the year the students listened to one another and gave critiques.  The ones performing did not let their pride get in the way because someone was telling them they were not perfect—they were anxious to hear how to do better, and after the taping exercise, realized that we do not all see (or hear) ourselves correctly.  And it worked.  They began to win.  And success breeds success.

They even came up with their own uniforms—black pants or skirt, white shirt, and Looney Tunes tie.  This little outfit started with just one duet team and gradually spread.  It finally got to the point where new students were asking me when they got their “uniforms.”  And whenever a child was without something—especially the tie, which some had trouble finding--there would be the “passing of the ties” between rooms and events as they raced to perform, so that no one would be without.  It was amazing to me to see this happen among children, with no prompting whatsoever. The last few years as I sat in the audience, I heard other parents and teachers around me saying, “Uh-oh.  They’re from the group with the ties,” as one of my ensembles approached the piano.  Even the ones who never won anything viewed the “outfit” as a badge of honor.  It meant they belonged to a group who did win, and that meant they won, too.

Do I really need to make an application here?  What if the church acted like this group of children?    What if we all had the attitude, “Please tell me how to do better?”  “Please tell me exactly what I’m doing wrong.”  What if we all “rejoiced with those who rejoiced” instead of becoming envious?  What if we all viewed being a part of the Lord’s body as an honor?  What if we all looked Satan right in the face and said, “I can too do it!”  And then did.

There should be no schism in the body; but the members should have the same care one for another.  And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; or if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.  Now YOU are the body of Christ and each is a member of it.  1 Cor 12:25-27

Dene Ward

A long time ago, a couple entrusted their two teenage daughters to us while they worked away from the area for six months.  I was 29 years old at the time, and 7 or 8 years from having teenagers of my own.  I doubt we really knew what we were getting into, but we agreed and did our best. 

Having someone give the care of their children into your hands for more than just a couple of hours is terrifying.  I think we probably made even stricter decisions than we did with our own children when the first one hit that milestone age of 13 several years later.  This isn’t like borrowing a lawn mower, or even a luxury automobile—these were souls we were asked to look after, in some of their most important years.

Those girls are grown now, even older than we were when they lived with us.  In spite of those six months, they turned out very well, as have their own children.  I doubt it had anything to do with us, but you had better believe that we were on our toes far more in those six months than at any other time in our lives.  Still, we made mistakes, but it wasn’t for lack of praying and considering before we did anything.

I am sure you can understand how we felt.  Here’s the thing, as a famous TV detective is wont to say:  all of us who are parents are given Someone Else’s kids to care for.  All souls are mine, God said in Ezek 18:4.  The Hebrew writer calls Him “the Father of spirits” in 12:9, the same word he uses in verse 23, “the spirits of just men made perfect.”  God is the Father of all souls, including those children of His He has entrusted to our care.  How careful should we be about raising them?

I have seen too many parents who are more concerned with their careers, with their personal “fulfillment,” and their own agendas.  They want children because that is what you do, the thing that is expected by society, and a right they feel they must exercise, not because they want to spend the time it takes to care for them.  “I’m too busy for that,” they say of everything from nursing and potty training to teaching them Bible stories and their ABCs.  When you decide to take on the privilege of caring for one of God’s souls, you have obligated yourself to whatever time it takes to do it properly and with the care you would for the most valuable object anyone ever entrusted into your hands.

If realizing that the souls of the children in your home are God’s doesn’t terrify you at least a little bit, you probably aren’t doing a very good job of taking care of them.

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

Dene Ward

When Keith and I are hiking we don’t talk much.  He cannot hear me and I am too busy watching the trail, trying to figure out where to put my foot next.  Occasionally I stop and take a moment to look up, but for the most part all I see is the trail.  Keith is the one who sees the scenery.

Is that fair?  Of course it is.  I’ll tell you why.  While I am looking down, I am hearing the scenery:  the screaming of hawks, the whining call of the yellow-bellied sapsucker, the raucous laugh of the woodpecker and its beak pounding the trunk of a tree, the gentle susurration of leaves in the breeze and their nearly imperceptible fall to their fellows on the thickly padded forest floor, the buzz of deerflies,  the chirring of chipmunks and lower pitched chattering of squirrels, brooks gurgling in the hollows, small waterfalls splashing on rocks at the bottoms of slopes, the fog dripping off of the trees.  Keith cannot hear any of that.  If he doesn’t see it, he misses it. 

But then I also see a lot on the trail that he doesn’t see because he is looking up: a forest floor covered with bright yellow poplar leaves, orange-red persimmon leaves, deep red sumac leaves, and once, a leaf bigger than a platter; rocks of all shapes and sizes, quartz, granite, slate, mica, limestone; holes and burrows at the edge of the trail and just off to the side in hollow tree trunks; and once, a wasp digging a hole, laying its eggs, then burying another insect it had paralyzed with its venom on top of the eggs, so its young would have food to eat when they hatched.  Have you ever seen that?

Many years ago Keith and I used to joke that one day I would hear when someone knocked on the door and he would go see who it was.  That someday is getting closer and closer.  But over the years we have adapted.  We have adapted to things you probably never even thought about.  Do you talk at night after the lights are out?  We can’t.  Keith cannot hear anything without his hearing aids, and needs light to read my lips.  Do you banter back and forth while you work together?  No, Keith has to be closely watching my mouth to know what I am saying.  Do you call to one another from separate rooms in the house?  Well, you get the idea.  We have lived this way for so many years we don’t even give it a second thought any more.

On this past trip we had more things to adapt to.  I usually read the maps and navigate while he drives.  I cannot read a map any more without two or three magnifiers, and time to focus and concentrate.  This time we took out the map the night before we left.  Keith read the road numbers and cities, and I wrote them on a sheet of paper in large letters.  We made our trip just fine, and we always will.  You know what?  Other people have it just as rough, or even worse.

Do you remember that old hymn that goes, “Every day I’m camping toward Canaan’s happy land?”  Just like the Israelites, we live in a dangerous wilderness.  We never know what lies before us.  Anything can happen, and often does.  So life is about change.  It is about adapting to your circumstances.  If we ever think it is about us deciding how things will turn out, we will be sorely disappointed.  And if this life is so important that we let ourselves become miserable because it isn’t what we expected, have we really learned the lesson about priorities?  Do we really believe that it is not even a drop in the bucket compared to Eternity?  Is our faith so weak we must have everything perfect now (according to our definitions of perfection) in order to believe in a perfect Heaven? 

Things are not easy for the two of us.  We do have days when we wonder why all this has happened.  But we strive to remember that our lives are a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away, James 4:14.  These momentary problems will vanish as well.  I think James meant that to be a warning, but let it be a comfort to you as well.  Some day we will leave the wilderness and arrive in a Promised Land.  Everything will be better in the end.

Now I rejoice in the Lord greatly…for I have learned in whatever state I am to be content.  I know how to be abased and I know also how to abound; in everything and in all things have I learned the secret both to be filled and to be hungry, both to abound and to be in want:  I can do all things through him who strengthens me, Phil 4:10-13. 

Dene Ward

We have a saying:  “It’s all downhill from here,” meaning the hard part is over, and the rest is easy.  So this will surprise you:  walking a mountain trail is much more difficult going downhill than it is going uphill.  I know it does not make any sense, but every time we hike, we learn the lesson yet again. 

Going uphill will strain your hamstrings and Achilles tendons with every step.  Your pulse and respiration will rise.  But as long as you have the breath to, you can keep going at a steady clip.

Going downhill, however, will do a number on your quads—not just with each step, but constantly because even on a smooth slope they will be in continuous braking mode so that your speed does not get ahead of your feet.  Where nature has made steps in the form of boulders or tree roots, they never match your foot or leg length, and are as steep as the rungs of a ladder.  You wind up grabbing a tree to go one step at a time, sometimes backwards like a real ladder, or sitting on the rocks sliding down one at a time—unless you are as young and agile as a mountain goat.  Even then, one slip in a downhill run could see you topple head over heels for twenty or thirty feet which, by the way, would be the only way to make any real time going downhill.  If you slow to two miles per hour going uphill, you will be lucky to make one going down.

Satan will always get you when you least expect it.  When life is good, when trials are over—for today at least—and we let our guards down, we will get to going too fast, speaking faster than we can think, reacting faster than self-control can kick in.  And there we go, tumbling down the hill like Jill tumbling after Jack, who broke his “crown,” by the way.  And what will happen to ours?

So when life is easy, when suddenly the ascent levels out or even begins a downward slope, be careful.  You can still take a nasty fall that lasts longer than you would have ever imagined.

Now these things happened unto them by way of example, and they were written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the ages are come.  Wherefore let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall, 1 Cor 10:11, 12.

Dene Ward