Actually, this should probably be Conducting 101, but let’s stretch a point this morning.  Meanwhile you are sitting there wondering what in the world an ictus is and why you should care.

              The ictus is the point in the conductor’s pattern where the actual beat occurs.  If you are tapping your toes to the music, the ictus occurs when your foot hits the ground.

              My conducting professor would have a cow if he saw most of the conducting patterns we see on Sunday mornings.  Not because they are “incorrect,” but because the ictus usually occurs up around the song leader’s ear, when it should be at his waist.  But few of my brethren are professional musicians, so who cares where the ictus is, as long as there is one? 

              That ictus, that stable underlying pulse, must be visible and steady so that we know when to sing.  What drives me crazy is when a leader just waves his arm on each word, rather than each beat, and expects us to read his mind about when the next one is coming.  Give me an ictus!  Even if you begin an accelerando (gradually speeding up) or a ritardando (gradually slowing down), we can still anticipate when a beat is coming and stay together as long as there is an ictus in your pattern.  If you’re just beating words instead of beats, who knows when it will come?

              Of course, the group has to be watching the leader for any of it to work at all.  Funny how the ones who recite, “Let all things be done decently and in order,” will sing what they want when they want, regardless what the leader is doing, and do it loudly enough that they take half the congregation with them.  But don’t get me started…

              God is the ictus in a Christian’s life.  [The Lord] is the stability in your times, Isaiah said, 33:6.  That word is the same word translated “faithfulness” in many other passages.  God’s faithfulness endures forever, Psa 117:2.

              Interestingly enough, it is also the word “steady” in Ex 17:12.  Moses lifted up his hands as the people fought the Amalekites, but as his strength failed and they sagged, Aaron and Hur sat him on a rock and held his hands “steady” for him until the battle was over.  God holds his hands steadily on high as we fight our battles.  That is how we defeat Satan and overcome sin.  It’s how we handle trials and tribulations—with the steady helping hand of a God who never wavers. 

              Even if you aren’t a trained musician you can feel the beat.  That’s why your toes tap and your hands clap.  It’s why your head bounces when you hear a tune you enjoy, but none of it matters if you aren’t watching the leader.

              God doesn’t leave you wondering when the next beat will come.  Look for the ictus as He leads you.  Sometimes it may slow as the toils of life bog you down, but it will not leave you behind fending for yourself.  Sometimes it may speed up as you run from the Enemy, but it is always there for the ones who care to watch and be led. 

              I often listen to music when I exercise.  I find I can go longer and do more than just counting repetitions.  If you are in a particularly difficult time of life, let God’s ictus help you put one step in front of the other, again and again and again, until you have finally reached the end of the trial.  Let it help you keep moving until you achieve the final goal.  God’s steady, stable, faithful hand will lead you on, until you sing that final triumphant note in the song of life.
 
 I will sing of the steadfast love of the LORD, forever; with my mouth I will make known your faithfulness to all generations. For I said, "Steadfast love will be built up forever; in the heavens you will establish your faithfulness." Psa 89:1-2.
 
Dene Ward
 

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

This phrase is used a number of times in the Old Testament at the time of someone’s death. I believe that I can establish that it means something more than being buried in the family tomb.

Gen 25:8 And Abraham gave up the ghost, and died in a good old age, an old man, and full [of years], and was gathered to his people.
Abraham had lived a long time away from his ancestral home and burying grounds. Only Sarah’s bones waited him in this world. Abraham went somewhere to be with someone, not just any someone, but those (people is plural) who were HIS people, dare we say, people of faith.

Gen 35:29 And Isaac gave up the ghost, and died, and was gathered unto his people, old and full of days: and Esau and Jacob his sons buried him.
Clearly, the gathering and the burying were distinct.

Gen 49:33 When Jacob finished commanding his sons, he drew up his feet into the bed and breathed his last and was gathered to his people.
In a clear distinction, dying, i.e., breathing his last, is separate from being gathered to his people.

Deut 32:50 And die on the mountain which you go up, and be gathered to your people, as Aaron your brother died in Mount Hor and was gathered to his people. Aaron died and was buried. Moses died and God buried him. In no sense is it possible to equate his being gathered to his people to simply being dead like they were. And, being in the wilderness, it is impossible that they were buried where their forebears had been.

Someday we shall “Gather at the River” with those Old Testament saints who’ve gone before, who, knowing less than we do, still walked by faith in hope of being together and with God.

Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing from the throne of God
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Gather with the saints at the river,
That flows from the throne of God.
 
Keith 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

We had a terrible time with gnats this past summer.  Despite our automatic atomizer, a dozen swarmed the lights at night and several buzzed us during dinner.  So I looked up the reproductive process of gnats and found out why.  We live in a veritable breeding ground—standing water (water buckets for the dogs), damp landscaping (mulch in the flower beds and more rain this year than any in the past ten), food (a large vegetable garden, a blueberry patch, and grape vines), and, ahem, animal residue—we live in the country, it’s everywhere.

              So keeping the doors and windows shut should fix the problem, right?  No, they breed in garbage cans too.  When you live in a small rural county, there is no weekly pickup.  You must carry your own garbage and trash to the dump.  To minimize the number of trips we put all the flammable items in a paper bag to burn in the “burn barrel” onsite, and the wet garbage in the kitchen can until it fills enough to empty it into the one outside.  That means our kitchen can is probably emptied less often than yours because there is no paper trash “filler,” and that means plenty of time for any gnats that whiz in a door as we enter or leave to lay eggs and hatch. I have tried spraying it every morning with insecticide, but even that does not seem to help.   

              There is no getting around it.  Garbage breeds vermin of one sort or another all the time.  They simply love filth. Putting it in the garbage can, as long as the can is still inside the house, doesn’t really help a bit.  You have to remove it from the house entirely, and soon enough that the gnats cannot breed.

              If we don’t want spiritual vermin, we have to get rid of the garbage in our hearts.  It doesn’t help to just try to hide it.  Make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof, Paul told the Roman brethren in 13:14.  You can’t just stash it away in case you might want to indulge again.  You have to remove it completely, and soon enough that it doesn’t breed yet more.  The Devil loves the dirt.  His minions wallow in it.  Why do we think it won’t soil us too as long as no one knows?  Would you eat a meal that was swarming with gnats and flies?

              Get rid of the gnats in your soul.  The only way is to empty that garbage can inside yourself and keep it that way.
             
…Touch no unclean thing and I will receive you.  And I will be to you a father and you shall be to me sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.  Having therefore these promises, beloved, let us therefore cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God, 2 Cor 6:17-7:1.
 
Dene Ward
 

When I was teaching piano and voice, my students often participated in an evaluation day at the university with judges rating their performances—superior, excellent, very good, good, and fair.  When I was a child I participated in the same event and the words given as ratings were exactly what they said they were.  Even a “very good” was very good. 
 
             By the time my students participated we were well into the philosophy of promoting self-esteem by never telling a child he was wrong about anything.  The vast majority of the 1000 entrants received a superior, which simply meant he didn’t play or sing more than a few wrong notes.  It had nothing to do with his musicianship or his artistry.  If a judge handed out more excellents than superiors, he was taken aside and enlightened.  As a result only a small handful of “very goods” ever hit the rating sheet, and news of a “good” spread like the plague, with exactly the same reception.  Everyone knew that a “very good” wasn’t, and a “good” was just plain awful.  Judges were actually forbidden to even look at the “fair” rating, much less circle it.

              That may be why “good” means little to us these days.  It is probably why we just read right over it when Luke calls Joseph of Arimathea and Barnabas “good” men.  Luke did not use that term lightly; those were the only two times I found that particular Greek word used of a man. 

              So can we ever hope to become so good that term can be used of us, the same term that Jesus used of God?  Only if, like God, that goodness becomes an intrinsic part of us, a goodness that exists no matter what happens on the outside, no matter what anyone else says or does. 

              Jesus seemed to expect it.  You brood of vipers! How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The good person out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure brings forth evil. Matthew 12:34-35.  There is the word, agathos.  A good person can only do good things if his heart is good, so if I am not doing them, something in my heart needs to be changed.

              “But that’s just not who I am,” won’t cut it with the Lord.  He expects us to change who we are.  He expects us to turn that evil heart into a good one, one that is good the way God is good, simply by its nature.  But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Luke 6:35.  There it is again, that same word, or a compound of it in this case, a “do-gooder.”  If you want to be a child of God, that’s what you have to be.

              Jesus makes it even plainer a little later.  Becoming “good” is not an option. It is not something we can do on the outside, while harboring a heart of evil or malice towards others.  It is not something we can do by rote without compassion.  It is the thing that will determine our destiny.  Well done, good and faithful servant.  Enter into the joy of your lord, Matt 25:21. 

              “Good” is a very special word in the Bible.  It isn’t passed out profligately so we can keep our self-esteem intact.  It isn’t bandied about simply because of good deeds or loud hallelujahs.  It is a quality so deep that if one ceases to exist in this life, so does that much goodness in the world.  “Only one is Good,” Jesus said, in the absolute sense.  That doesn’t mean he doesn’t expect us to become good as much as is humanly, with a little help from God, possible.
 
And let us not grow weary of well doing, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith. Galatians 6:9-10
 
Dene Ward

I imagine many of us grew up using that phrase in the first prayer we ever uttered at the table.  Maybe that is why we are so prone to say, “God is good,” and indeed He is.  We will shout it to the world.  When?  When we get exactly what we want.  When what we pray for comes to pass.  When life is easy and carefree and comfortable.  And that means we have absolutely no understanding of the goodness of God.  We are, in fact, showing ourselves to be those same immature little children uttering a memorized grace. 

              Jesus said in Mark 10:18.  Why do you call me good?  There is none good except God alone.  That Greek word is agathos.  I am not a Greek scholar and at this age, never will be, but I can tell when one Greek word is used and when another is simply by looking at the letters.  Here is the difference in this one.  God is good whether I get what I want or not.  God is good whether life is easy or not.  God is good even in the midst of storms and trials and disease and pain.  The goodness of God never changes because it is intrinsic to His nature.  That’s what that word means.  Nothing on the outside of Him affects that goodness.  It always is because it is part of who He is.  God is good because He is God.

              We too often mean a different Greek word when we shout, “God is good.”  Kalos means something is good only when it is beautiful, valuable, or useful to the person judging it so.  It is an extrinsic quality, affected by circumstances on the outside of it.  Thus a person would cease to be “good” if he became disabled or too ill to work, or if she were no longer beautiful due to age.  If the only time I utter the phrase, “God is good,” is when my prayers are answered in a positive way, then that is exactly what I am saying about God.  If I were a first century Greek, I would be calling him kalos instead of agathos.  He is only good when He is useful to me, just like children who “love” their parents when a wish is fulfilled, but say, “You’re so mean,” when they get a “No.” 

              So how do we feel about God?  Do we understand that He is good simply because He is, or do we feel the right to judge His goodness based on our own desires?  The real test of my understanding of the nature of God comes when, in the wake of disaster, I can say along with Job, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord” (1:21).
 
Moses said, "Please show me your glory." And he said, "I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name 'The LORD.' And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy…The LORD passed before him and proclaimed, "The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children's children, to the third and the fourth generation." And Moses quickly bowed his head toward the earth and worshiped. Ex 33:18,19; 34:6-8.
 
Dene Ward

All summer I had been watching those monarch butterflies flit over my flower beds. Every couple of days I carefully checked the herb garden twenty feet away for signs of their caterpillars.  That’s what I read somewhere—that monarch butterfly caterpillars are the dreaded parsley worms that can wreak havoc on that herb almost overnight.  Nothing happened.  My parsley grew well and was never infested.  Somehow I got off easy this year.  I thought.

              Then in mid-October we went away for a week.  We returned on a Friday night, after dark, too late to see much but the back porch by the light hanging outside the back door.  The next morning we stepped out for a stroll and saw what had happened.  Every sprig of parsley was completely bare, only the bright green stems sticking up completely naked—except here and there for the bright green worm still clinging to the bush it had just decimated.  I am not so paranoid as to think that somehow they all got together and planned the attack for while we were away, but it was certainly suspicious.

              Satan, on the other hand, is perfectly capable of planning his attacks that way.  He waits until we are most vulnerable.  He waits until we have experienced a crisis in our lives, until we are frustrated by circumstances, until our defenses are down, and then he zooms in for the kill.  Being on the alert when you are tired and hurt is not easy, but that is exactly what we must do, standing guard as a soldier in the Lord’s army. 

              One of the greatest benefits of being in the family of God is having people who care enough to watch your back.  All of us should be aware of the crises in our brothers and sisters’ lives.  Too often we are so consumed with our own affairs that we don’t have time to watch out for others, and that means we are too consumed, period.  Then we wonder how a brother could fall so far, why a sister was caught up in such a sin, why a family has “suddenly” disappeared from among us.  How in the world could those things have happened?  They happened in part because everyone was too busy to notice.

              What do you do when announcements are made in the assembly?  Is that when you spend your time arranging your books, glasses, and children on the pew, the time you flip to the first song and look through it, the time you know you can spend a little longer in the ladies’ room before you need to be seated?  Those announcements should be your greatest tool the next week as you figure out what you need to do for whom, how you can encourage a brother or sister in distress, what you might say to one whose soul is in danger.  How much do you hear when you are finishing up a conversation that has no bearing on a soul, or racing to your pew before the first song begins?  Those pieces of news are about service, and that is the most important part of a Christian’s life, considering one another…Heb 10:24.

              Be aware of the timing in the lives of others too.  Is it the first anniversary of a widow’s loss?  Is it a season that makes being alone that much harder for the single?  Are ordeals approaching in people’s lives that might make them more prone to Satan’s attacks?  We have a job to do; we have service to offer; we have comfort to give and sometimes exhortation and rebuke when we see those attacks making progress in the lives of another.

              If we see them.  If we care.  If we aren’t so wrapped up in ourselves that we miss the attacks and wake up one morning to an almost overnight slaughter in the garden of God.
 
Wherefore lift up the hands that hang down, and the palsied knees; and make straight paths for your feet, that that which is lame be not turned out of the way, but rather be healed, Hebrews 12:12-13.
 
Dene Ward

It begins in September. 

                We keep watching the weather for hurricanes, but we also watch it for that first cold front.  If it comes too early, it will only be a day or two before the 90s in both temperature and humidity reappear, but at least we get a taste of the fall to come.  Here in Florida it is a big deal when the smothering blanket of heat finally lifts after five full months of sweltering, wondering if your makeup will melt before you get into the air conditioned building, trying to find a parking place in the shade so you can bear to sit on the seat and hold the steering wheel when you return, planning your shower around the last time during the day you think you will wind up looking like a dog caught in the rain.  Either that or take two or three showers a day.

              Then we anxiously keep an eye out in October.  Every single day, sometimes two or three times a day, we look at the forecast.  It's been known to change from hour to hour in these parts, we say, excusing our obsessive clicking on the NOAA forecast. 

              We begin looking at our sweaters, planning which to wear next Tuesday, assuming that front comes before then.  We paw through the pantry stacking up the tea bags, international coffees, and hot chocolate packets leftover from last year when, in our overconfident glee, we bought way too much.  We split some fat lighter for fire starters and set them beside the fire pit along with a fresh stack of firewood.  We split another bucketful to sit next to the back door for the wood stove inside.  We comb the grocery ads, looking for specials on chili beans and saltines, stew beef and vegetables, and that head of cabbage that we learned long ago was absolutely necessary for an excellent pot of minestrone.

              Yes, we get anxious down in these parts.  Maybe they do in other places too, but the Deep South has little enough cold, and Florida even less.  So we cherish it when it does come, and sigh when the winter is far too warm or leaves too quickly.  Yet even then, that first cold front is received with gratefulness and a huge sigh of relief.  The long hot summer is finally over.

              And that got me to thinking.  Is that the way we wait for the Lord?  We may not have a forecast to watch, not even a Farmer's Almanac.  But are we as anxious for this long hot trial we call life to be over as we are for the summer to disappear?  Do we watch for the Lord's return with impatience even, praying as John did, "Lord, come quickly?" (Rev 22:20)

               If you have been observant at all about this world, you can see where things are going.  It's about to become a harsh place for Christians.  We may soon, even in this country, be persecuted for our beliefs to the point of losing our possessions, our jobs, even our freedom.  I worry what my children, and especially my grandchildren will have to deal with.  Right now, the only relief I can see is the Lord coming to put an end to it all.

              If you are young, I know that you want to experience all the things we older folks have—a wedding day, a career, carrying a child and raising it, even seeing your grandchildren.  And perhaps we older folks have failed in teaching you to long for his return as we do.  After all, we wanted to live longer at your age too.  We wanted to do all those things our parents had done—and do it better, we were sure. 

             So please, as you age, try to teach your children what we may have failed to teach you.  Even if the world does not go in the direction I suspect it will, even if it becomes a wonderful place to live after all, it still cannot match the world to come, the one we should be hoping for and praying for every single day.
 
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. (2Cor 5:1-5)
 
Dene Ward

Over the years I have learned a foreign word or two in the Bible just from having them come up over and over in my classes.  One of those words is "Beth."  "Beth" means house.  So Bethlehem means "house of bread," Bethesda means "house of mercy," and Bethel means house of God.  I suppose those actually meant something when they were first used, but eventually their significance became unimportant to the people—they were just names.  But one of those names became important to a prophet of God as Israel's apostasy worsened, the name Bethel.

              Bethel was the place where Jacob dreamed his dream of angels on the ladder.  He built an altar there, more than once, and called the place "Bethel" because that is where he had his encounter with God.

              Later on, Bethel was one of the first places that the Ark of the Covenant was set up.  Since there was as yet no Temple, the people met there for their worship.  It most certainly was "the house of God" then.

              After the nation divided, when Jeroboam was trying to glue the northern kingdom to one another and himself, he set up the golden calves—to worship Jehovah, mind you, "the God who brought you up out of Egypt," as Aaron had called a similar image--one in Dan at the northern end of his kingdom, and the other in Bethel, in the south.  Now worship was convenient and no one had to make that long trip south to the Temple.

              Of course, this led straight to full-blown idolatry along with all its accoutrements.  When Hosea came along, calling them all to repentance, he flatly refused to call "Bethel" by its name.  It was no longer "the house of God."  (Hos 4:15; 5:8; 10:5)  Instead, Hosea called it "Beth-aven."  And what does that mean?  "House of iniquity," or evil, vanity, affliction, or wickedness.  A much more suitable name, don't you think, for a people who had broken their covenant with God by worshipping other gods, making alliances with other nations, and even sinking to the "abomination"—a word reserved for the things God considers the most heinous of sins—of sacrificing their children.  "You no longer deserve this name," Hosea was telling them.

              So how are we doing at living up to the names, or in some cases descriptions, we use of ourselves?  What does the sign say outside your meeting place?  If you do not follow the teachings of Christ, if you are not behaving as a child of God, how can your assembly (church) possibly think it is "of Christ" or "of God?"  And as to our individual name, if I am not acting like a disciple of Christ, how can I possibly claim the name Christian?

              The privilege of using those names and descriptions carries with it a responsibility to live and worship a certain way.  "God wouldn't mind…" is more about living like you want to live than like He wants you to live.

              If you were being honest, what would you call yourself this morning?
 
But God's firm foundation stands, bearing this seal: “The Lord knows those who are his,” and, “Let everyone who names the name of the Lord depart from iniquity.” (2Tim 2:19)
 
Dene Ward

It’s happened twice now.  I leave my campsite loaded down with shower gear and clean clothes, only to walk into what should be a sanctuary for women only and find a couple of little boys running around—not three year olds, mind you, but boys who are well into grade school, probably 8 or 9.

              A campground bathhouse is a bit like a locker room.  Yes, there are shower stalls with curtains, but often the dressing area in those stalls becomes nearly as wet as the tiles behind the shower itself.  Sometimes you have to open the curtain so you can step out and put on your jeans without dragging them through a puddle.  On our last trip a woman came marching out of the stall in her jeans and bra, flapping her arms and exclaiming how hot it was.  What would have happened if those two little boys had been in there then?

              Even the little boys cared.  They were showering when I came in to brush my teeth late one night.  Their mother had all their clothes piled in a far corner of the room. 

              “Come on out,” she called through the shower curtain.

              “But there’s a woman out there,” the older boy said.

              “I’m sure she’s seen it before,” she hollered back, and suddenly in the mirror I saw a naked child streaking behind me.  For his sake I kept my eyes averted from the embarrassed little boy crouching behind the sinks.  If it bothers the boys, surely that’s the time to put them in the men’s bathhouse, isn’t it?

              Then I got an even bigger shock.  “I’ll be right back,” the mom told the boys.  “I have to take this to your dad.”

              Dad?  Why didn’t Dad have them in the men’s bathhouse to begin with?  No, dad was absent, as so many are these days, watching TV in the trailer by the satellite dish he had hauled along on a two night camping trip on top of a beautiful mountain.  I wonder if he ever noticed the scenery, much less his sons. 

              My boys were blessed to have a father who took his role seriously.  He didn’t leave everything to me until they got “bigger.”  He changed diapers.  He rolled around on the floor with them.  He played every ball game in season, even when they weren’t very good at it yet.  He read the Bible to them every morning while they ate breakfast, and a Bible story every night before bed, even before they were able to understand what he was reading.  Nearly every night he was the one who gave them their baths so I had time to clean up the supper dishes.  And yes, he took them into the men’s bathhouse whenever we camped, which began when Nathan was only three.

              For awhile Keith worked nights.  He would not have seen the boys except right before school and on weekends, but he got up early every morning, despite his late hours, to walk them to the bus stop.  He left them notes in the middle of the table every day, pieces of advice, Bible verses to memorize before the weekend, and always an “I love you.”  They usually ran straight for the table when the bus dropped them off, and I still have a notebook with those little yellow notes taped to the pages.  It wasn’t long before he changed jobs, taking one at far less salary because being with his boys was more important than money.

              Fathers, you have a more important calling than the one that pays your bills.  Boys need to know what it takes to be a man of God.  Girls need to see the kind of man they should look for one day.  If all you do is let mama handle things till they get a little bigger, you are missing the most precious years of their lives.  You still won’t have a relationship with your child, because you didn’t build one when the building came naturally.  They won’t trust you to really care, and no one will much blame them.
 
And you fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord, Ephesians 6:4.
 
Dene Ward