We got the call that Sunday morning at 5:32.  We were on the road as soon as we could be, but Silas’s little brother Judah beat us there by half an hour.  Mommy and Daddy had waited as long as they could, their three year old sitting big-eyed and quiet in the labor room, but ultimately had to call a church couple to take him.

              About 1:00 that afternoon those helpful people brought Silas back to the hospital, where we sat in the room with Brooke and Nathan, new baby Judah lying in a special bed under a warming light.  It took far longer than it should have to get that baby’s body temperature to an appropriate number. 

              Silas, still a bit confused, and very tired, ran straight to his parents.  Nathan lifted him into his arms and carried him over to the little bed.  He looked down at his four hour old, wrinkly red baby brother, his tiny head still misshapen from his passage into the world, and said, “What’s that?”

              I couldn’t help it.  A bubble of laughter escaped me at his innocent honesty.  When we told him this was his little brother Judah, the one who had been in Mommy’s tummy, his little head swung back and forth between his mommy and the figure in the clear, plastic bed, his eyes full of skepticism.  This was not what he expected.

              It took a couple of weeks for him to really come around, but who could blame him?  He was expecting a brother like the brothers and sisters his little friends had, and probably just as big.  He was expecting a playmate, but every time he shared his toys, the little interloper simply lay there and slept.  Where is the fun in that?  But children are nothing if not adaptable, and his little brother is growing on him.

              I fear some people look on their lives as Christians with the same skepticism with which Silas first viewed Judah.  Freedom, they were promised, but all they see are rules.  Joy, they were promised, yet they still suffer the same trials, illnesses, and financial problems as everyone else, even the same ones as before they were converted.  They’ve lost friends, and rifts in the family are worse than ever.  They expected people to come running at their every beck and call, yet every Sunday the preacher, an elder, a Bible class teacher—or maybe all three!!—tells them they have to serve others.

              Jesus dealt with the same problem among his followers.  Some came expecting to be entertained (Luke 7:32; 23:8).  Some came expecting to be fed (John 6:26).  Some came expecting to be part of a victorious army and a glorious kingdom here on the earth (Luke 19:11).  Very few “came around,” changing their expectations to match his offered reality.  He never changed his offer—if they wouldn’t accept it, he simply sent them away.  He drove off far more than ever accepted him (John 6:43-67).

              Sometimes we have to do the same.  We cannot change the church the Lord bought with His own blood to suit the carnal nature of an unspiritual world—we don’t have that right.  Be careful what you offer your friends and neighbors. God didn’t promise lives of ease, health and wealth, or even a church family that always behaves itself.  The test of faith comes when things are difficult, not when they are easy.

              The church wasn’t what the Jews expected.  As a result most of them missed out on the promised kingdom.  Examine your own expectations.  Make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to you.
 
For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Whoever thus serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men. Romans 14:17-18
 
Dene Ward
 

Today's post is by guest writer, Keith Ward.  Photograph by Katie Whipple Photography.

       Our lane is a private drive. A few times the county grader made the mistake of coming down it. Having seen the mess he made and getting the county commissioner to rectify the problems he created, I have often been thankful that we did not have the "assistance" of the government in maintaining our access.
          Private also meant that the mailbox was at the state road 4/10 of a mile from the house. Many times the four of us walked to get the mail together. We talked. I threw football passes to the boys. We carried our baseball gloves and I lobbed fly balls up the lane for them or burned grounders up the uneven ground. Dene and I caught each other up on the business of the day and on the doings of the boys and they told their stories and happenings. There can never be too much family time. We must contrive all the "Just Us" time we can squeeze from busy schedules. In these times we shape personalities, theirs and ours.
          Private also meant the bus stop was at the road. Economy required that we walk unless it was raining. I made it my job to walk them to the bus. The first years I did so despite having a night job and otherwise having no need to get up so early. I got up and read their Bible chapter as they ate breakfast and we walked together. We played catch, we talked about their school problems and mine as a boy, we threw clods of dirt (no rocks in FL) and watched for snakes. After I had a day job, I continued to read the chapter, but often could drop them on the way to work and then wait with them till the bus came. Daddy time cannot be overdone.
       In the afternoons, they got off the bus and walked home alone. Sometimes, they were accompanied by Dene's first piano/voice students of the day, who rode our bus that one day of the week. They learned to ride their bicycles in the lane and watched up the lane when it was time for Daddy to come home.
         God walked the lane with us. He was not there only when we talked about him or Jesus or the church, He was there when we talked about and did all the things that are right for a family of Christians to do. Everywhere we went with the boys, we took God along.
           When we returned from town or a vacation together it was a relief to turn into the lane, we were almost home—it was just a short way over the rise and around the curve. I suspect that now the two of us have turned into the lane and home is just over the rise and around the curve.

And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. (Deut 6:6-7)

Keith Ward

Otto Wichterle was born on October 27, 1913 in Prostejov, Moravia.  Because he did not want to work at his father's machinery factory, he went on to study chemistry and became interested in plastics.  He was jailed for a while by the Gestapo, but eventually released and became a professor and textbook author at the Czech Technical University.  Over the years he made many discoveries and in December 1961 created the first soft contact lens with a child's erector set and a phonograph motor.  Sounds a little like MacGyver to me.  Leonardo da Vinci, who had first imagined contact lenses, would have been proud.

              Not quite that far back a young doctor decided to try contact lenses on my nanophthalmic (one 15 and the other 16 mm), hyperopic/aphakic (scrip +17.25), steep-cornea-ed, corrugated, football-shaped eyeballs.  Everyone told him he was crazy, that it was impossible.  Somehow, amid all the discouraging words, he managed to make it work.  For the first time in my life I could see more than the fish-eyed tunnel in front of me. 

              These were the original hard contact lenses.  He had sat me down and told me that the only way I could possibly wear them in my “special” eyes was to want to wear them.  I did not realize till much later how wise he had been.  They were incredibly uncomfortable, especially on my deformed eyeballs, but I saw so much more that I knew I would never give them up, regardless the pain.

              Seven years later rigid gas-permeable lenses became available through overseas channels.  They were a tiny bit more comfortable, but more important, they kept my eyes healthier.  I wore those for thirty-five years.  Finally a type of soft lens has been developed that I can actually wear with no ill-effects.  Not only that, but they cause no strange visual effects either—no starbursts, no fish-eyes, no distortions at all.  It seems ironic that they have come now when my vision is failing and when only one eye can tolerate wearing one, but I am not complaining.

              I have had to learn different methods of insertion, removal, and overnight care.  This thing is so much more comfortable that sometimes I am not certain it is in.  The many surgeries I have had have changed me from hyperopic to myopic, and my vision, even with the lens, is far from perfect.  That is why I did not realize for about an hour that I did not have the lens in my eye the other morning. 

              At first, when the usual blur did not clear up right away, I thought it was just one of those days when I was not going to see well.  They happen often enough.  Finally I put my finger to my eyeball and touched only eyeball—I knew the lens had not made it into my eye.  So where was it?

              I ran back to the bathroom, got on my hands and knees and felt across the floor from the door to the vanity cabinet, the only way I could possibly find it down there.  No lens.  At least I knew I wasn’t going to step on it.  So I stood up and I felt across the entire vanity countertop.  No lens. 

              Finally I took the hand towel off the rack.  I always open the lens case over a towel because of the fluid in it.  I felt one side of the towel and then turned it over.  Still no lens, but when I picked up the towel again, there was the lens under it, finally having fallen off the towel with a tiny little “clink.” It was as solid as one of my old hard lenses.  That nice soft lens material had dried up even in the humid bathroom air.

              I soaked it in saline a couple of hours and it came back to life.  Finally I could see again, at least as well as I ever do these days.

              I came across a passage the other day. The light of the wicked shall be put out, and the spark of his fire shall not shine. His strength shall be hunger-bitten, and calamity shall be ready at his side. His roots shall be dried up beneath, and above shall his branch be cut off. His remembrance shall perish from the earth, and he shall have no name in the street, Job 18:5, 12, 18, and 19.

              Trying to live your life without Christ will dry you up.  I do not understand how people who do not have the hope He offers can handle life’s problems, and especially how they can handle dying.  They have nothing to live for, and certainly nothing to die for.

              We have said it over and over.  The grace of God not only gives you salvation, it helps you overcome temptation, bear tragedies, and face death.  If I turn into a dried up, bitter old woman, it is because somewhere along the line I refused to make use of that grace. 

              I wince, thinking about the pain I would have felt if I had tried to put that desiccated contact lens into my eye.  We sometimes go about with pain that we needn’t bear.  A good long soak in the grace and goodness of God makes it possible to live this life to the fullest and look forward to the one to come.
 
Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. He that believes on me, as the scripture has said, from within him shall flow rivers of living water, John 7:37,38.
 
Dene Ward

When Silas came to visit, shortly before his third birthday, Chloe scared him to death.  What did she do?  Nothing.  Our sweet-faced red heeler simply existed and Silas wasn’t too keen on being in the same yard with her, not even a five acre yard.

              Then he discovered that Chloe was even more afraid of him.  She would cautiously creep out from under the porch when we all went outside, but always made sure I was between her and that frightening little human.  What had Silas done to her?  Nothing.  He couldn’t get close enough to do anything to her. 

              When he finally understood, he thoroughly enjoyed his time outdoors.  He picked flowers for his mommy.  He loaded the bird feeder.  He looked for big hunks of bark that had fallen off the sycamore, broke them into three pieces—one for granddad, one for grandma, and one for himself—and led a countdown: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1—whee!—at which point we all threw our hunks of paper-thin bark into the air, over and over and over until there wasn’t a piece of bark bigger than a quarter to be found anywhere.

              Then he walked around to the side of the house and found the two old bathtubs Keith soaks his smoker wood in.  “Oh!” he cried.  “A pool!”

              First, he simply stood there splashing the water.  Then he eyed an old coffee can and some plastic flower pots, and began dipping into the tub and pouring the water back in and, in the process, all over himself. 

              Then he eyed Chloe, the dog that no longer scared him.  You could almost see the wheels turning.  He dipped again into the tub and sat the can on its edge.  “Chlo-eeeee,” he called in a singsong voice.  “I have something fooooooor yooooooooou.”  He picked up the can and headed straight for the dog, sloshing water with every step.

              I knew exactly what he was going to do, and so did Chloe.  She took off running.

              Funny how one simple piece of knowledge was so empowering.  When Silas learned that Chloe was so afraid of him, he was no longer afraid of her.  But it isn’t just the knowing; it’s the believing.

              How many times do we fail because we simply don’t believe what we’ve been promised?

              With every temptation there is a way of escape, 1 Cor 10:13.  We are equipped with armor that will enable us to stand against the Devil, Eph 6:11-20.  We are guarded by the power of God unto a salvation that is ready and waiting, 1 Pet 1:5.  Our faith stands in the power of God, 1 Cor 2:5.  We are supported in our afflictions by the power of God, 2 Cor 6:7.  His power works in us, and we are strengthened by it, the same power that raised Christ from the dead, Eph 3:16,20.

              Do you think Satan isn’t afraid of you?  The devils believe also, and tremble, James says, 2:19.  Since it is Christ’s power that rests on you and not your own, 2 Cor 12:9, what makes you think you aren’t a fearsome entity as well?  The only thing that would hinder it is disbelief in the promises of God.

              Our weapons are mighty, 2 Cor 10:4,5, far more so than a bucket of water in the hand of a toddler, and we should be ready and willing to use them.  Yes, we should face the devil with care, just as we would a rattlesnake, but his fate is already sealed.  All we have to do is believe it.
 
…we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. Colossians 1:9-12
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
I said this before we passed out the Lord’s Supper a couple of weeks ago.

Often when we come around this table, I am filled with shame. Being raised as an American with a belief in my own independence, freedom and rights I often feel rebellious toward God. “Why should I have to give up what I want to do? Why should I sacrifice for Him? Why should I submit to His will?” It is something I struggle with. Then we gather around this table and I’m reminded of what God sacrificed so I could be called His child. I’m reminded of how Jesus submitted His will to God’s and what He gave up for me, and I’m ashamed. I’m fussing about giving up a few hours of TV time to study His word so I can teach when Jesus sacrificed a few decades in Heaven so I could be saved from sin? And I’m reminded again, as this symbolic meal was meant to do, of why I should be overjoyed to submit to and sacrifice for Him.

But I’m ashamed of my rebelliousness. I see my rebelliousness in relation to His love and I feel no higher than a worm in the muck. Then I’m reminded of Psalm 113:

Vs. 5-9 “Who is like unto Jehovah our God, That hath his seat on high, That humbleth himself to behold The things that are in heaven and in the earth? He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, And lifteth up the needy from the dunghill; That he may set him with princes, Even with the princes of his people. He maketh the barren woman to keep house, And to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye Jehovah.”

The whole point of God’s sacrifice was to raise us up out of the muck. To set us with the princes. He raises us up.

This table reminds us of the ridiculousness of our failures and sins, but it also reminds us that we serve a God who will reach down and pull His people up out of their sins and set them among the royalty of His people.
 
Lucas Ward

Last year we made a distressing discovery—the seam sealing tape on the rain fly to our tent had come loose.  Unfortunately, we made this discovery in the middle of the night during a driving rainstorm when water suddenly began pouring on us as we lay in our sleeping bags.

              So before our latest camping trip, we pulled out the fly and set about resealing the tape.  We found out that not all the tape had come undone, just the places where more stress was put on the fly—at the staking points and over the top where it stretched tightly across the tent poles.  I suppose that makes sense.  After all, where is it that your pants are more likely to rip but where and when you stretch those seams the most?  In the back when you bend over.

              That brought to mind the disciples’ request for the Lord to “Increase our faith.”  I had always thought of this as a simple request, sort of a “Help me get better” generic prayer.  Suddenly I thought to check the context.  Maybe there was a reason for the request, maybe those men were under some sort of stress.  So I looked up Luke 17:5 and checked the verses immediately ahead of that one.

              Stress?  Jesus had just given them a laundry list of commands that would have stressed anyone out.

              “Temptation is sure to come,” he begins in verse 1.  Not “may come” or even “will probably come,” but “sure to come.”  If ever a Christian feels stress it is during temptation.  Yes, I think I might need increased faith to handle those times. 

              Then he goes on to talk about those who cause others to stumble.  I suppose nothing stresses me out more than worrying about how what I say or do may affect others, especially since I teach and write so much.  Yes, I need more faith to keep teaching and keep writing, especially when I receive negative reactions or hear of someone who misused what I have said, and even more when I realize I have made a careless word choice.

              Then Jesus tells them to forgive, even if the same person does the same thing over and over and over and over.  This is where, in an almost comedic outcry, we hear them shout, “Lord!  Increase our faith!”  As often as those same men misunderstood and failed to comprehend Jesus’ teaching, they certainly understood the need for faith when it comes to mercy and forgiveness.  We really haven’t reached the pinnacle of that Divine trait until we can say, “I forgive you,” without adding or even thinking, “Again.”

              Look up the other places where we are told to strengthen or increase or add to our faith and you will discover other areas of stress that could trip you up—times when divisions occur, when sinful desires rear their ugly heads, when we need to love the unlovable, when we are told to obey whether we understand it or not.  All of these things can create stress in our lives, and endanger our souls.

              “Pay attention to yourselves,” Jesus told those men in the midst of his teaching (v 3).  Don’t be caught unawares in the middle of a storm.  “Increase your faith” and so be prepared. 
 
We ought always to give thanks to God for you, brothers, as is right, because your faith is growing abundantly, and the love of every one of you for one another is increasing. Therefore we ourselves boast about you in the churches of God for your steadfastness and faith in all your persecutions and in the afflictions that you are enduring. This is evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be considered worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are also suffering-- 2 Thessalonians 1:3-5.   
 
Dene Ward

No, I am not going to give you any study "shortcuts."  In my experience, they aren't worth much.  The actual process of studying, the time spent and the work done, is what matters.  If you are trying to save time and still learn copious amounts of scripture, your heart is not in it.  God expects you to care enough about Him and His Word that you don't mind the time it takes.  Besides that, it just won't work.

              The issue here is one we all have, and have more and more as we age—remembering what we learned.  At the risk of having people laugh at me, I am going to tell you some of the things I do to overcome this problem.  I do not expect you to follow the same procedures as I, but to be emboldened to find your own memory crutches, the things that make sense to your mind and that work for you.  Mine may not do that.  We all seem to learn in different ways, so pay attention to your own particular abilities and use them to the best.

              First, there is absolutely nothing wrong with making up little songs to help memorize scriptures or lists in scriptures.  You did it as a child when you learned the apostles, the sons of Jacob, and the books of the Bible.  The list does not have to rhyme and you do not have to come up with a new tune.  Using an old one, even something like "Mary Had a Little Lamb," is just fine.  It's perfectly scriptural:  "teaching and admonishing yourselves in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs."  I knew a woman who memorized scores of passages just by singing them.  What's wrong with that?  If anyone laughs at you, just ask them how many passages they know by memory!

              Then there are mnemonic devices.  I had a terrible time remembering which prophets spoke to Israel and which to Judah.  Finally I wrote them down and there it was—only two to Israel, Hosea and Amos.  "HA!"  I said to myself, and ever since then I have remembered it.  H for Hosea and A for Amos—HA!  It can be just that silly.  I even shared it with my classes and now they can remember it too.  When they do forget, I just look at them and say, "HA!" and instantly the two names are practically shouted across the classroom, usually with a laugh.

              Then there are the spelling similarities.  Ever since I was a child and learned the story of the divided kingdom, I instantly noticed the names of the first king of each nation:  Jeroboam and Rehoboam.  Out of 8 letters, 6 are the same.  So which was king in which kingdom?  In this case you remember a negative:  Jeroboam (which begins with a J) was NOT the king of Judah (which also begins with a J).  Maybe I was a lazy child, but I did that from the beginning as soon as I saw those two names and have never had trouble since.

              The alphabet is common in many of my devices.  How about Leah and Rachel?  Whose handmaid was Bilhah and whose was Zilpah?  I just sat down one day and looked at the names and the letters they started with.  If you put the sisters in alphabetical order (L and R) and the handmaids in reverse alphabetical order (Z and B), you've got it.  Leah's handmaid was Zilpah and Rachel's was Bilhah.

              Maybe because I have studied them for so long, I don't really have any trouble matching husbands and wives in the Bible, but I have noticed that a lot of folks do.  I've heard people marry off Rebekah to Abraham more times than I have fingers and toes.  If you are one of those folks, here is the perfect opportunity for you to try this out for yourself.  First get your Bible and write down the husbands and wives, matching them up correctly (that's why you got your Bible).  Look at the names.  Look at the letters the names begin with.  Look at other facts about the couple.  Find something that makes sense to you and then spend a little time working on it.  The devices themselves must be easier to remember than the thing you are trying to remember or it defeats the purpose, but if you work for a little while now, it will save you hours of having to look up the basic facts, and you can then spend your study time on the depths of the Word.

              And don't worry if anyone laughs at you.
 
​​​​​​​ I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways. (Ps 119:15)
 
Dene Ward
 

Sometimes I wish we taught classes in our churches specifically about what to look for in a mate.  I have seen too many young people looking at only the outer man to decide whether he is suitable to marry.  One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was to imagine your boyfriend as the father of your children.  Do you want them to grow up like him?  Sometimes I think young ladies get a little more desperate than young men and are willing to settle for just about anyone, as long as he has been “dunked” and sits on a church pew.  Big mistake, girls.  I am not sure I did a better job of looking for the right things, but I sure wound up with better than most, so let me tell you what makes a real man, having been married to one for 43 years now.

              A real man is not too embarrassed to worship God with all his heart and let everyone see it.  So what if he cannot sing like one of the “Three Tenors” or even the latest teen idol?  If it is obvious that his heart is in it when he sings, let him bellow all he wants!  David, a warrior-king, surely a man’s man in every sense of that phrase, wrote unabashedly emotional songs to God, prayed to him night and day, and worshipped so fervently he embarrassed his wife, 2 Sam 6:16ff.  Don’t let yourself get caught in her trap, and ultimate curse.  If your present boyfriend cannot even make himself mutter loud enough for you to hear right next to him, and makes it obvious that the assembly of the Lord’s people bores him to death, particularly if he claims to be a Christian, do you really need another reason to question staying in that relationship?  Training your children to love God is hard enough without having to fight the example of the other parent.

              A real man takes care of his family, no matter what that involves.  What is your fellow’s record at home?  Does he willingly do the chores his parents have given him, or do they have to nag?  Does he balk at particularly dirty jobs and even refuse to do them?  I do not mean complain once in awhile—that should be allowed.  But there may come times when your husband has to get out there and do things for the family which are pretty disgusting.  I can remember a time when all of the plumbing in the house was totally plugged up and my man had to go outside at ten o’clock at night, dig up the top to the septic tank, then lean down into that nasty, smelly hole with a long stick and manually unplug the drainpipes.  He never balked at changing diapers or cleaning up after a sick child.  He has even held my head while I was sick.  If your guy is too finicky for such things, he is a weakling!  Real men are strong enough to do what has to be done.  Mine has dug ditches in a driving rainstorm to keep our house from washing away, and dug a well in a cold January rain despite a 102 degree fever because we had had no running water in the house for a month and could not afford a professional.

              Third, real men are not selfish.  Does your boyfriend ever do what you want, or are you always stuck with his choices in entertainment and activities?  (On the reverse, do the two of you only do what you want?  A real man has opinions of his own and is not run by his woman.)  Does he go out of his way for you?  Does he act like a gentleman, dropping you off under the covered entry and then running through the rain himself?  …offering you his coat when you are cold?  …carrying heavy things for you?  Or does he just treat you like one of the boys and let you fend for yourself?  And most important, has he ever hit you?  Does he constantly criticize you, and ridicule you, even in front of others?  Does he order you around and act jealous every time another man even looks at you?  Does he get angry and yell, then blame his explosion on you?  Drop everything right now and leave as fast as you can.  A husband is supposed to nourish and cherish his wife, and treat her as well as he treats himself, Eph 5:25ff.  He is kind and considerate, and looks out for his wife’s best interests, whether they are in his best interests or not.  That is God’s description of a real man.

              Every marriage will have its ups and downs, dealing with hardships and sorrows along the way:  financial problems, health problems, family problems.  Look at him now.  How does he deal with mishaps?  With upsetting circumstances?  With aggravating people?  Does he whine?  Does he crack under stress?  Is he volatile, even frightening?  Can you tolerate even being around him when he is not happy or does he make everyone miserable?  Whom does he rely on?  Whom does he go to for advice and comfort?  Is it even possible to comfort him, or is he inconsolable?  It’s one thing to comfort the man you love in a crisis.  It’s another to put up with an immature, irresponsible man with no self-control, and even need protection from him because he has hit a rough spot in the road and cannot deal with it like an adult.

                A real man keeps his word.  If your boyfriend has gone back on any promises to you or anyone else, what makes you think he will honor the vow, “For better or for worse, till death do us part?”

              Last, but certainly not least, is he romantic?  If he is already your fiancé and you are not hearing, “I love you,” even once a week, you will find yourself starved for it in ten years, and even wondering if it is true any longer.  Every relationship needs the grease of affection to handle the natural frictions of living together.  I hear those three magic words no less than half a dozen times a day, sometimes limited only by the number of times he can call and still give his employer a full days’ work.  Along with love notes and wildflowers, hand-picked on the way home from work, and more hand-holding than a couple of teenagers, I have no doubt that this man would give his life for me without a moment’s thought, “as Christ also loved the church and gave himself up for it,” Eph 5:25.  Will you have that kind of assurance?

              So don’t go out there looking for a cute one, a popular one, or a rich one.  When it comes down to real life—not some fairy tale fantasy—none of that makes a difference.  In fact, if that is all you go by, you probably won’t live happily ever after.  I lucked out and got a guy who gets better looking as the years go by, but even if you don’t, you can still be like me and be happier as the days go by, instead of more and more miserable because you made a rotten choice based on shallow, fleeting values.  Be careful.  This is one of the most important decisions of your life.  Whom you marry will affect you as a Christian, and your ultimate destiny, more than any other decision you will make.
 
So the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and while he slept took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the LORD God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said, "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man." Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh. Gen 2:21-24
 
Dene Ward

This business of treating small dogs as fashion accessories strikes me as a little barbaric.  I’m surprised PETA hasn’t stepped in and complained.  Of all people, they should take offense at an animal being treated as an inanimate object.

              I understand loving an animal.  I have cried at the loss of every dog and cat we ever had.  I planted flowers on Magdi’s grave, one that blooms all summer and one that blooms spring and fall.  The only time I can’t look out the window and know at a glance where she lies is the middle of winter.  But she had her place and it wasn’t in my purse.

              Some people treat pet peeves as if they were real pets, live creatures that must be fed and cared for.  In fact, feeding is a good word for the way they nurture those peeves at every opportunity.  Understand, I am not talking about matters of sin and morality, but things we like or don’t like, opinions we hold about certain behaviors, and even matters of courtesy.  Courtesy is usually a cultural notion, not one of moral right and wrong.  It may bug me to death to be in an elevator with someone yelling into a cell phone, but I doubt it will send him to hell.

              If it is possible, so far as it depends upon you, live peaceably with all, Rom 12:18.  Nowadays, when our culture is calling on us to take a stand on things we used to take for granted, it is even more important that we not raise a fuss over the inconsequential.  “Choose your battles,” something parents must learn so their children won’t view them as prison guards but as wise guides instead.  We need to learn that in regard to pet peeves too.

              When you take that unpopular moral stand, no one will listen if all you have done before is rant about minor things at every opportunity.  No one will care what your opinion is or how well you back it with facts when they are used to tuning you out.  If, on the other hand, you have always been fair-minded, cool-tempered, and tolerant of others’ social gaffes, making allowances for them without even being asked, when something comes along that actually causes you to stand up and speak, they are far more likely to pay attention—and consider.

              It is also important to stifle those pet peeves with your brothers and sisters in the Lord.  Be at peace among yourselves…seek peace and pursue it…suffer wrong [for the sake of peace]…be one…so that the world may know you have sent me, 1 Thes 5:13; 1 Pet 3:11; 1 Cor 6:7; John 17:22,23.  God could not have made it plainer that how we get along with one another affects far more important things than our own personal agendas.  Today we must be as tightly bound as the threefold cord spoken of in Eccl 4:12.  We need one another when the world turns against us and labels us “hateful” simply because we exercise our American right to disagree and, much more important, our Christian obligation to speak out.  If my reputation precedes me as an irrational ranter who isn’t worth listening to, it isn’t just myself I am hurting, but the Lord and His cause.

              I must stop tending those pet peeves as if they were pedigreed pooches, when all they are is a crack in my armor.  Who do you imagine rejoices the most when I lose it over a trifling matter of preferences?  The Lord or Satan? 

              We are all sojourners on the same trip, stopping for a night at a second rate motel.  No pets allowed.
 
A fool’s wrath is known at once, but the prudent ignores an insult…a fool utters all his anger, but a wise man keeps it back and stills it…love covers a multitude of sins, Prov 12:16; 29:11; 1 Pet 4:8.
 
Dene Ward
 

I do not mean to leave you discouraged, so let me share some success stories with you.  After all these years, we have a few, and I do believe God meant us to share them with one another (Acts 14:27). 

              I remember a lot of baptisms.  Keith has baptized in swimming pools, sunken bathtubs, and ponds.  I remember standing right at the shore, cold water lapping at my feet on a chilly January night as a young woman came up out of the water with him, and wrapping her in blankets as quickly as I could.  I remember him coming home one night, sticking his legs out of the truck door to show me the damp hems because a Bible study had resulted in the birth of a babe in Christ.  I remember the night we stood on the edge of a swamp, bullfrogs croaking a bass chorus and headlights shining over the weedy waters, as he baptized a young man he had studied with for several weeks.  I believe it was May and I remember thinking, surely God will keep the snakes at bay tonight!

              I remember some neighbors up the street in another state, who had started coming to services, and her to our women’s class, and who wanted so badly to be baptized one Sunday morning, they wouldn’t even change into robes.  “We came in these clothes, and these clothes are going down with us, right now!” the man said.  I think we did persuade him to remove his wallet and take off his shoes.

              I remember another young man who faithfully completed the correspondence course, asking good questions along the way, and then sent back his final lesson with the note, “I’m ready to be baptized.”  He attended faithfully until he moved away.  I remember another young man whose commitment was restored after a long talk, who brought his wife to us, and has gone on to begin a church in an area where there was none, still faithful after thirty years

              God sends you other encouragements if you just pay attention.  One neighbor had seen us leave every Sunday morning, and when suddenly she had custody of her three grandchildren, she called, wanting us to take them to church with us.  We certainly would have loved to have her as well, but we didn’t look down on the opportunity.  For two years those children were dressed and waiting every Sunday morning at 8:00.  I have no idea if that has borne fruit, but I do know this—when the woman died, her children asked Keith to speak at her memorial.  Something had been planted and it did have some effect.  That’s all God asked us to do.

              Sowing the seed is not a part-time job.  For a Christian, it’s a career.  Get on with it.  No one will be judged by the results.  Just remember that every person you come across is a potential field and everything you do can affect the results of your planting.  That is what you will be judged on, not the number of splashes.

              God wants sowers.  He wants waterers, and, we hope, plenty of harvesters.  The seed will yield its crop, but don’t get so busy counting ears of corn that you forget to plant the next row.
 
"For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:10-11
 
Dene Ward