Keith had to have some fairly serious surgery last year and since he is 90% deaf, the doctor arranged for me to be in his hospital room as his caregiver 24/7.  He does read lips fairly well, but lip reading is not the perfect solution to the problem.  He must “fill in the blanks,” so to speak, as his mind tries to interpret the sounds his ears miss, which is most of them.  It takes a lot of concentration, and when he is tired or does not feel well, he simply cannot hear at all.  But over the years I have learned how to communicate in all the various ways, from hand signals to pantomime to pointing at people or things to carefully wording without overdoing the mouth movements or using too many words. 
            So for six days we were both away from home and wouldn’t you know it, it was the height of garden season.  When we came home I had to do it all because he couldn’t even lift more than 10 pounds for two months, let alone bend over to pick vegetables or drag hoses.  That first week was the worst.  I picked every morning, sprayed the whole garden twice, (we’re talking an 80 x 80 garden here), pulled cucumber vines covered with blight, chopped out and hauled away the old corn stalks, placed folded newspapers under 50 cantaloupes so they wouldn’t rot on the ground (a very thin-skinned variety), cleaned out weed-choked flower beds, put up both dill and red cinnamon pickles, and picked and tossed 8 five gallon buckets of squash and cucumbers that did not have the grace to stop growing while we were in the hospital!
            Of course we all know that is not going to happen.  The plants continue to grow, the blossoms continue to set, and the fruit grows far larger than you ever imagined it could.  The back field looked like a marching band had gone through throwing out big yellow saxophones as they passed.
            It works that way with children too.  I can think of dozens of things we planned to do with our boys when they were little—things we never got to.  Sometimes it was a case of no money, but sometimes we just let life get in the way.  I wrack my brain trying to remember if there was anything we planned that we actually accomplished at all!  But just like gardens, children keep on growing.  They don’t stop to wait until you have more time to spend with them, or more resources to spend on them.  They won’t wait till you get a bigger house or an easier job or a raise.  They won’t wait until your life is exactly like you want it.  If that’s what you are waiting for, it will never happen.  You have to set your own priorities and make it happen.
            Every summer I made my boys a chore list.  I am sure they remember it fondly!  No, probably not, but on that list was this:  “Play a game with mom.”  Guess which “chore” they never skipped?  Sometimes it was checkers, sometimes it was monopoly, sometimes it was even pinochle, a game they learned with some of their dad’s commentaries set up on the table to hide their hands because they were too small to hold all the cards at once.  Sometimes it was one of the board games I made to help them with their Bible knowledge.  And every day we had Bible study of some kind, whether just talking about things between the bean rows as we picked together or a formal sit down study. 
            These are just some ideas to help you along.  We have all heard the old poem “Children Don’t Wait.”  It’s true, and last summer I thought about that even more as I looked out over the overgrown garden.  Maybe my grandsons will reap a little from the repeat of a lesson that is never taught enough.
 
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...Deut 32:46-47.
 
Dene Ward

Silas is afraid of dogs.  Who can blame him?  Most are as big or nearly as big as he is and the ones that aren’t have an attitude that is.  Dogs have big mouths full of pointy teeth.  They roar—which is what barks and growls sound like to a small child.  They nip when they play—which doesn’t keep it from hurting.  And licking you is just a little too close to eating you.
              So when he first saw Chloe, Silas’s reaction was to try to climb me like a tree.  No amount of reassurance that she wouldn’t hurt him sufficed.  But by the second day of watching her run away from him, his fear subsided.  In fact, he was no longer sure she was a dog.  One morning as he sat perched on the truck tailgate eating a morning snack and watching her furtive over-the-shoulder glance as she slunk under the porch, he said, “I’m afraid of dogs but I’m not afraid of that!”
              Yes, he decided, some dogs should be feared, but at only 5, his little brain had processed the evidence correctly:  this was not one of those dogs and he would not waste any more time or energy on it.
              Too bad we can’t learn that lesson.  We are scared and anxious about the wrong things.  “Use your brain, people” Jesus did not say but strongly implied in Matthew 6.  “God clothes the flowers; He feeds the birds.  You see this every day of your lives.  Why can’t you figure out that He will do the same for you?”
              Instead we waste our time and energy worrying about not just our “daily bread,” but the bread for the weeks and months and years ahead as if we had some control over world economies, floods, earthquakes, storms, and wars that could steal it all in a moment, as if we had absolute knowledge that we would even be here to need it in the first place.  And the kingdom suffers for want of people who give it the time and service it deserves and needs.  “God has no hands but our hands,” we sing, and then expect someone else’s hands to pull the weight while we pamper ourselves and our families with luxuries and so-called future security.
              And the things we ought to fear?  We go out every day with no preparation for meeting the roaring lion that we know for certainty is out there.  He is not a “just in case” or “”if perhaps.”  He is there—every single day.  Yet we enter his territory untrained and in poor spiritual condition, weaponless, and without even a good pair of running shoes should that be our only hope.  Why?  Because we are afraid of the wrong things and careless about the things we should have a healthy fear for; not because the difference isn’t obvious, but because we haven’t used the logic that even a five-year-old can.
              And what did Jesus say to the people who were afraid of the wrong things?  “O ye of little faith.” 
              What are you afraid of this morning?
 
“Do not call conspiracy all that this people calls conspiracy, and do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. But the LORD of hosts, him you shall honor as holy. Let him be your fear, and let him be your dread, Isa 8:12-13.
And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell, (Matt 10:28.
“Listen to me, you who know righteousness, the people in whose heart is my law; fear not the reproach of man, nor be dismayed at their revilings. ​For the moth will eat them up like a garment, and the worm will eat them like wool; but my righteousness will be forever, and my salvation to all generations,” Isa 51:7-8.
​The LORD is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me? Ps 118:6.
 
Dene Ward

God makes it plain in the Old Testament exactly how He feels about human sacrifice, specifically sacrificing one’s children as a part of pagan idol worship.  It is “an abomination;” it “shall not be found among you;” it “defiles you;” it “pollutes the land;” it “did not even enter into [God’s] mind” to command such a thing” (Deut 12:31; 18:10; Ezek 20:31; Psa 106: 37,38; Jer 32:35).
              And I suppose most of us think we are past that—we would never participate in something so heinous; we would never be caught up in worshipping an idol to the point that our children no longer mattered to us.  Think again.
              How many people have sacrificed their children to their careers?  And don’t automatically jump to working mothers.  God holds fathers accountable as the spiritual leaders of their families, especially in raising their children (Eph 6:4).  Too many fathers delegate everything to the mother, expecting her to somehow communicate to his children that he loves them, even when he spends practically no time at all with them, when he regularly misses piano recitals, school programs, or ball games; when he has never drunk an imaginary cup of tea at a tea party; when he has never read a bedtime story; when he has never dried a tear or given a hug, changed a diaper or given a bath, helped with a science project or played catch.  Career-minded, status-conscious, money-grubbing parents need to give thought to what they are sacrificing.  When you chose to have children, you chose to sacrifice yourselves, not them.
              And we also have those who sacrifice their children on the altar of their own feelings and opinions.  The sermon hurt my feelings, the elders told me I had to change my lifestyle, this brother or that sister came and told me I needed to repent of my sins, so I won’t go back to that church ever again.  And guess what?  Your children miss growing up among godly people, attending Bible classes that would have helped you teach them about God, and at least hearing the gospel every Sunday, whether anything you did at home ever cemented it into their minds or not.  You may not have sacrificed them to Molech, the heathen god most often associated with child sacrifice, but you actually did worse—you sacrificed them to the maker of those “abominations”—Satan Himself.  He is the one who will swoop in and claim those young souls, who have now learned from you that God isn’t all that important after all.
              Then we have the big one, for on this day in 1973, in Roe vs Wade, the Supreme Court legalized abortion.  The blood of innocent children is being shed in the name of my body, my rights, and my choice.  Read what actually happens in an abortion and it will make you sick, especially late term abortions.  I am sure the numbers change, but as I write, 60,000,000 babies have been slaughtered, and that is not too harsh a word for it.  Abortion is nothing more than human sacrifice so I don’t have to bear the responsibility of my actions.  I, me, and mine are the biggest idols we have today, and precious souls are bearing the brunt of that pagan ritual to the idol of self.
              Interestingly enough, Norma McCovey, the original Jane Roe in this legal argument, changed her mind.  In her book, Won by Love, published in 1998, she writes:

I was sitting in O.R.'s offices when I noticed a fetal development poster. The progression was so obvious, the eyes were so sweet. It hurt my heart, just looking at them. I ran outside and finally, it dawned on me. 'Norma', I said to myself, 'They're right'. I had worked with pregnant women for years. I had been through three pregnancies and deliveries myself. I should have known. Yet something in that poster made me lose my breath. I kept seeing the picture of that tiny, 10-week-old embryo, and I said to myself, that's a baby! It's as if blinders just fell off my eyes and I suddenly understood the truth—that's a baby!
I felt crushed under the truth of this realization. I had to face up to the awful reality. Abortion wasn't about 'products of conception'. It wasn't about 'missed periods'. It was about children being killed in their mother's wombs. All those years I was wrong. Signing that affidavit, I was wrong. Working in an abortion clinic, I was wrong. No more of this first trimester, second trimester, third trimester stuff. Abortion—at any point—was wrong. It was so clear. Painfully clear.[3]

              While I am certainly thrilled for her change of heart, she had to live with the results of her actions for the rest of her life.  Her repentance on this matter did nothing to stop the continuing murder of children.
              Child sacrifice is alive and well in the world today, and too many of us are guilty in our own ways, too.
 
“Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord GOD: Will you defile yourselves after the manner of your fathers and go whoring after their detestable things? When you present your gifts and offer up your children in fire, you defile yourselves with all your idols to this day. And shall I be inquired of by you, O house of Israel? As I live, declares the Lord GOD, I will not be inquired of by you, Ezek 20:30-31.
 
Dene Ward
 

One evening as we sat with our grandsons in the family room of their home, two year old Judah found three small bins, about the size of the largest coffee cans these days, and summarily emptied them one by one.  Small figurines, farm animals, blocks and other toys covered the family room floor.  He stood there looking around with obvious satisfaction, lifted his hands in the air and, with a big grin on his face, proclaimed, “I made a mess!”
              Then, surprising us both, he began to pick up each and every tiny toy and place them in the back of his dump truck, the big one he can sit on and push with his feet, until every toy was off the floor.
              “What a good boy!” I exclaimed.  Naively, as it turned out because he immediately knelt before the truck and began tossing the toys over his shoulders with both hands until once again they were scattered everywhere.  Again he looked on his work with satisfaction, then began picking them up and starting over.   This must have occurred five or six times before it began to bore him, but for a while there, “Making a Mess” was the game of the hour and he was quite good at it.
              Do you know any mess makers in the church?  You know, the ones who ask questions in class that are deliberately designed to foil the teacher’s carefully laid out lesson and confuse the newcomers; the ones who enjoy starting a discussion they know will end in arguments; the ones who delight in pulling people aside, especially teachers and preachers, and “setting them straight” about some detail that doesn’t even matter; the ones who pride themselves on taking the opposing view, not because it is the right one, but because they enjoy a stir.  They might as well stand in the middle of the room with my two year old grandson and proclaim, “I made a mess.”
              What does Paul say about them?  They “quarrel about words to no profit.”  They participate in “irreverent babble.”  They engage in “foolish and ignorant controversies.”  They have “an unhealthy craving for controversy”—indeed they can hardly control themselves when they see certain subjects coming up.  That lack of self-control comes because they are “depraved in mind.”  In short, these people thrive on making messes.  They live to cause trouble.  They even brag about their tendency to do these things. 
              And why is it so bad?  Their actions “subvert souls.”  They “lead people to more and more ungodliness.”  Their foolishness “eats like a gangrene.”  It “genders strife.”  It serves only to “produce envy, dissension, slander, suspicion…and constant friction.”  It troubles the new Christians and “unsettles minds.”
              At least my two year old grandson’s activity did not hurt anyone.  It was entirely appropriate for a child his age.  What excuse does a middle-aged mess-maker have?  He might as well go play with the babies.
 
But avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless. As for a person who stirs up division, after warning him once and then twice, have nothing more to do with him, knowing that such a person is warped and sinful; he is self-condemned.  Titus 3:9-11
(Passages quoted in the body of the article:  1 Tim 6:4,5; 2 Tim 2:14,16,23; Acts 15:25.)
 
Dene Ward
 

We were once again babysitting, this time in Tampa instead of here at home.  Though I grew up there, that Tampa was long ago and far, far away.  In fact, that night, a Wednesday, we headed for a place that forty years ago had been nothing but woods.  Now it is a Chick-Fil-A, "where we go every Wednesday before church," we were told by our grandsons, and since Mom and Dad had been away for a week and a half already with three more days to go—and not just away, but on another continent—we wanted things to be like "normal," so off to that popular place we went.
              Probably because I grew up in that area, even if it did look very different back then, my sense of direction was just fine when we came out after our meal.  For one thing, I knew that turning left onto Fowler without a light, especially during the remaining minutes of rush hour, was a no-go.
              "I wonder if there is a back way," I mused aloud.
              Eight year old Silas immediately piped up from the backseat.  "Turn right out of the back of the parking lot, go to the next street and turn right again."  Of course he gets his superb directional skills from his grandma!
              So I repeated his directions to Keith who could not possibly hear him from the front seat.  He looked a little askance, but did as he was told.  But then we came to 56th Street and by then, good old Granddad was totally turned around.  He had no idea where he really was.  I recognized immediately that though we needed to turn left, there was no break in the median there to do so.  We would have to turn right, go to the Fowler light, and do a U-turn in order to be headed in the correct direction.  And that light was not even a block down the street in the middle of the thick traffic.
              "Make sure you have enough room to get all the way across," I told him.  "You will have to make a U-turn at the light to get to church."
              "What are you talking about?  A U-turn?"
              "Yes, at the light."
              "I don't want to turn there.  It's the wrong place.
              "No, it isn't.  The church turn-off is behind us."
              "Are you sure?  It's just down a block or two on the left."
              "No!  You have to turn around.  You have to make a U-turn at the light."
              "But why do I want to do that?"  he asked, thoroughly flummoxed.
              Once again the 8 year old voice piped up from the backseat.  "Because that's how to get there," he said with simple logic.
              At that point I laughed out loud.  "Yes.  That's how to get there."
              "No it's not.  I shouldn't have to make a turn at all."
              "Yes, you do," and by then the car was in a bit of an uproar because he was starting to pull out and the traffic was way too heavy for him to get all the way across into the left turn lane before he hit the light.  "All the way, all the way, all the way!" the boys and I were shouting, and that is exactly what Keith did, having given up on his idea of where we were, though I think I still hear the echo of a horn and a screech of tires behind us as he did it.
              As we sat there in our hard-won left lane, waiting to make a U-turn, Keith said very quietly, "What street is this?" and when I told him he added, "Ohhhhh," with dawning realization.  "Well, it's a good thing someone knew where we were."
              And once again that little voice piped up from the backseat, "Always listen to the guy in the backseat."  Then glancing over at his little brother he added, "On the right."
              We have laughed at that story for a year and a half now.  "Always listen to the guy in the backseat," one of us says, and then in unison, "On the right!"  And the little guy had a point.  When you are lost, when you don't know what to do, when you don't know where to go or who to turn to, ask "the guy in the backseat."  In this case, that metaphor stands for someone who has been there, perhaps several times, as Silas had, someone who knows the ropes, someone who can lead you through the maze of possible routes safely to the other side.
              Too many times we go to the wrong people.  We go to the ignorant, the naïve, the ones who are in just as much trouble as we are.  We steadfastly refuse to approach anyone who can really help us.  And why?  Could it be because we know we won't like the answer we will get?  Could it be because it simply goes against the grain to let that particular person know we are having trouble?  Could it be because, "No one really understands what it's like."  Are we really that arrogant?
              God created the church in his "manifold wisdom" (Eph 3:10), first, to hold forth the light of the gospel and save the world.  But also so we can help one another, so we never have to fight the battles alone.  Look around you some Sunday morning.  You will see a group of people who, between them, have met almost every trial of life.  You have a wealth of information and help at your beck and call, not to mention a raft of prayers going up daily if you only ask for them.
              Sometimes your life is a crazy intersection at rush hour, with cars whizzing past and a left lane far across four lanes of that dangerous traffic, the very lane you need to be in to make a U-turn that might save your soul.  Listen to the guy in the backseat and quit trying to figure it out alone.
 
Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ. (Gal 6:2).
Now we that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves. (Rom 15:1).
 
Dene Ward

Since I have written several and published some Bible Class literature, I am in the position to hear a lot of complaining about it.  That is why I have written so much of it—I wasn't happy either.  While I only have a couple of published books out there, I have another half dozen in my computer file that I have taught and could print out for publication with very little more work.  So, yes, I feel for you teachers who are looking for material.
              Most of that was women's literature.  As for children's?  My biggest gripe about the genre was first, the errors.  I actually grew up being taught in the Journeys Through the Bible and the like workbooks that Jacob married Leah after seven years of work, and then worked another seven years before he married Rachel.  I heard more times than I can count that Bathsheba was bathing on the rooftop.  I was given pictures to color that had the wise men showing up at the stable.  And we won't even start with the cultural errors that showed not only in the pictures, but also the wording and assumptions.
              Second, the workbooks were all too easy.  You could have given the fifth grade books to second graders and the high school books to sixth graders.  Do you want to know why so many of our children are bored with church?  Because we are the ones boring them to death!
              But that is not the point I want to make this morning.  We will never find perfect Bible class literature for our children.  With so many different styles of learners out there, and so many different needs in different cultures/neighborhoods, it is impossible.  When people start complaining, I worry that what we have is uncreative teachers with little insight into what their students actually need.  So how do we go about choosing good literature?  Here are a few guidelines.

              1.  Carefully assess the needs of your group.  And folks, that means look at the parents.  The attitudes your students have come directly from their raising.  If the parents are good Bible students, usually their own children will arrive with a completed workbook and answers to all your questions.  If not, then you must steel yourself to go over the story in class, again and again, to get it across.  If the parents are all about the facts but not about the heart, you will need to stress godly attitudes.  If the parents are all about emotionalism and "God knows my heart" is supposed to excuse any misapplication of scripture, then you need to stress God's attitude to the disobedient.  It may take a couple of quarters to figure all this out, but if you do not, you won't ever accomplish much that truly needs accomplishing.

              2.  Now that you know the needs, begin to look over the various curricula carefully in order to determine their strengths and weaknesses.  It should be obvious that you need to be knowledgeable in the scriptures in order to do this.  If you see that ubiquitous little boat picture of the ark with half a dozen windows and doors, and the giraffe's head sticking out of it because it's shorter than a giraffe and do not immediately see red flags, please go study Genesis again.  As I said, you will not find one that's perfect, but egregious errors should be obvious to you.  Then choose the one that fills the needs (#1) with the least amount of error.

              3.  Do not approach the curriculum you have chosen as the be-all and end-all.   Instead, use it as a guide.  Adapt and re-adapt as you see the need arise.  One of my published classbooks has a statement pointing out that I have given the teacher too many scriptures to use on a particular point.  I expect the teacher to go over those passages and choose what is relevant to her group.  To my mind, that is the way to use Bible class literature.  Adapt, adapt, adapt.

              4.  Feel free to add your own methods to the book.  I do not teach like you and you do not teach like I.  I have certain ways I teach memory verses and people, places, and things facts.  And students do not relate to each method in the same way.  My methods tend to cater to active children, helping them harness that energy in productive ways.  Yours may reach a different type of child.  Anyone who thinks there is only one correct way to teach a Bible narrative probably ought not be a teacher in the first place.

              5.  No matter what curriculum you have chosen, no matter how many times you have taught that lesson over the years, pretend you have never seen it before, and read it out of the Bible half a dozen times before you ever read it out of the workbook.  The first classbook I ever wrote came as a result of me doing exactly that.  I could not believe the number of errors I was taught nor the wrong ideas that had been placed in my mind by teachers who simply went over the classbook and never opened a Bible because they thought they "knew the story." 
              In the middle school class I taught for years, the kids had two favorite activities.  One was, "How many mistakes can you find in the book?"  They were to read the Bible first and then the classbook and look for them.  It was the first order of business in every class.  Besides becoming completely familiar with the lesson, it also taught them a pretty good principle about manmade material.  The second was, "I'm going to teach you something most grownups don't know."  Talk about hearing a pin drop.  I had their attention in a flash, and most parents learned those things, too, when their children went home that day.

              However, you choose your material, stop looking for perfection.  You won't find it.  Instead, look for guides.  Try to find ways to help embed these truths into our children so that nowhere along the line someone will write of them:  "And there arose a generation who knew not God."
 
Dene Ward

A few years ago when we were babysitting, the first afternoon that we picked up Silas from kindergarten, he came rushing out to the car shouting, “I got purple!  I got purple!”
  
               In his school every child starts the day on green, and his behavior moves him either up the color chart to blue and ultimately purple, or down the chart to yellow, orange, or red.  Red means mom and dad have to come in for a serious talk.  Usually all the obedient, well-behaved students end up on blue, and everyone is perfectly satisfied with it.  But purple?  Purple takes something extra-special.  It is the height of achievement for a student.  No wonder he came out running, shouting, and grinning a smile as wide as our windshield as we watched him through it.

              Why is it that I can’t have the same glee, the same sense of accomplishment and exhilaration when I overcome a temptation or grow out of a bad attitude?  Why don’t we all come running to share the good news with one another?  I’ll tell you why—because we are a bunch of judgmental grumps that’s why.  Two things are going to happen if anyone opens his mouth about these things.

              First, someone is going to gasp and whisper to another, “You mean he has trouble with that sin?”  We can’t share our accomplishments when we are afraid people will look down on us, will lose respect for us, and will probably gossip about us at the first chance they get.  “Did you hear about so-and-so?  Did you know he has these problems?”

              Second, someone else will puff out his chest and say, “Tsk, tsk.  Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall!”  We can’t share our successes without someone thinking they have to knock us down a peg because of our “pride,” as they so hastily judge it. 

              In both of these cases, shame, shame, shame on us!  Those are unscriptural, even sinful attitudes.  Gossip, which is nothing less than slander, is included in that horrible list of sins at the end of Romans 1.  And what in the world do we think it means to “Encourage one another?”  It means when a pat on the back has been earned, give it!  Don’t hoard it with the self-righteous notion that we are doing what is best for the person’s soul—“wouldn’t want him to get the big head.”  Would you do that with your children?  Would you never praise them for their successes, but only criticize their mistakes? 

              AA doesn’t do it, and God doesn’t do that either.  And the LORD said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil?”  Job 1:8.

              The Psalms are full of statements by people of God who know they have done right.  The LORD dealt with me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands he rewarded me. For I have kept the ways of the LORD, and have not wickedly departed from my God. For all his rules were before me, and his statutes I did not put away from me. I was blameless before him, and I kept myself from my guilt. So the LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness, according to the cleanness of my hands in his sight, Psalm 18:20-24.

              Don’t tell me it’s because the Old Testament people did not understand grace and were all about “earning” their salvation by keeping the Law.  “Do not say in your heart, after the LORD your God has thrust them out before you, ‘It is because of my righteousness that the LORD has brought me in to possess this land,’ whereas it is because of the wickedness of these nations that the LORD is driving them out before you. Not because of your righteousness or the uprightness of your heart…Deut 9:4,5.  O my God, incline your ear and hear. Open your eyes and see our desolations, and the city that is called by your name. For we do not present our pleas before you because of our righteousness, but because of your great mercy, Dan 9:18.

              Those people knew they had not earned God’s love and mercy, but they also knew when they had done well in keeping His commandments.  Why do we think it’s a sin to recognize that?  The apostles didn’t.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing, 2 Tim 4:7,8.

              When my grandson came running out that day I could easily have told the difference between arrogance and joy.  Why can’t we tell the same thing about one another?  Why can’t we share victories over Satan and expect others will be just as happy about it as we are?  God wanted us to know we are saved; he wanted us to be confident in our destiny. I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life, 1 John 5:13.

              I’ll tell you this, if we are going to “become as little children” and so inherit the kingdom of heaven, we had better stop acting like peevish, petty grown-ups.  With that sort of behavior we will never be able to run down the streets of Heaven shouting, “I got purple!”
 
Let them shout for joy, and be glad, that favor my righteous cause: Yea, let them say continually, Jehovah be magnified, Who hath pleasure in the prosperity of his servant, Psalm 35:27.
 
Dene Ward

The last time we went to visit our grandsons, they had acquired a miniature Foosball game.  About two feet long, each player had only two rods to handle instead of the usual four apiece.  And that was plenty for rookie player Grandma.  Both boys beat me soundly, but by the end of the weekend I was at least holding my own.  Once I lost 9-7 instead of the customary shutout.  Being older and thus, more coordinated and better able to use strategy, 9 year old Silas always beat 6 year old Judah.  So I imagine it did Judah's little ego a world of good to beat up on Grandma!

              Later that first day, I also helped with piano practice.  (Nice to have a former piano teacher as a grandmother.)  Silas is far more advanced than any student his age I ever had, and it is a joy to listen to him.  The way his little mind picks up instruction is another pleasure.  After just a couple of thirty minute sessions, his playing was cleaner and his interpretation more mature.

              Judah has just begun.  His problem is confidence in his left hand.  He showed me his method book and went through about 8 pages lickety-split, but always using only his right hand, even when the top of the page clearly showed the left hand fingers needed to play the bass clef notes.  He even had to think backwards to get the correct notes played because, if you haven't noticed, your hand is a mirror image of the right.  Your thumb is your first finger on each hand and the finger numbers go from there.  So playing a note with the fourth finger of the left hand requires playing that note with the second finger of your right hand in order to play the correct note.  Thinking backwards was easy for him, but he steadfastly refused to use his left hand.  He may not have said it this way, but he clearly understood that his right hand was dominant and his left the off hand.

              Whenever I suggested he try it with the left hand, he compressed his lips and shook his little head.  Finally, this teacher of nearly forty years' experience figured out what to say.

              "Do you remember how hard it was to play with your right hand the first time you started?  But now that you have practiced it, your hand is stronger and you can do it much more easily, right?"  I finally got an oh-so-slight nod.  "So if you start using your left hand, it will get stronger, right?"  No nod this time, but he was still listening.  "And when your left hand gets strong too, you will be able to play Foosball better and maybe beat your big brother." 

              Now you could see the wheels spinning.  "How about giving it a try?" I asked.

              "I will sometime."

              "How about if I leave for a minute?"

              I didn't really get a nod, but I left the room and before five seconds had elapsed I heard the piano.  He might have played a little more hesitantly than with the right hand, but that left hand played every single piece whether it was written for right or left hand.  Do you know why that worked?  I gave him some motivation that meant something to him.

              Do you think God doesn't give us the same thing?  You can find what my college Behavior Modification class called positive and negative reinforcement on practically every page of the Bible.  From "in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die" (Gen 2:17) to "and he shall wipe away every tear from their eyes…" (Rev 21:4). 

           God finds the motivation that means the most to the people he is dealing with.  Sometimes we seem to think that we should be doing things "just because" and that will make us better than anyone else.  Please find for me any place that says that.  Even when it seems that way, there is an unspoken prod somewhere in the context—gratitude, fear, love, something that will help us accomplish the task.  Even Jesus was given motivation:  "…who for the joy set before him endured the cross…" (Heb 12:2).

        Sometimes we misinterpret the motivation.  All those descriptions of Heaven as a place of magnificent wealth?  God is not appealing to our greed.  Remember who he spoke to.  Those people understood what it meant to pray for their "daily" bread.  They didn't have well-stocked pantries, grocery stores on the corner, bank accounts, life insurance, stock portfolios, or any other of the things we have.  He was appealing to their desire for security.  A place so wealthy that gold and jewels were used as building materials and pavement meant they would never have to worry about keeping their families fed and cared for.  Walls so high meant they did not have to worry about Barbarians coming over the mountains to raid their villages.

         As with all motivations, we hope to mature so that someday we can motivate ourselves with something a little less mundane.  As our spirituality grows, so should the incentives we use to succeed.  Someday I hope Judah will use his left hand at the piano so he can be a better pianist, and not just so he can beat his brother at Foosball.  But for now?  Whatever works.

           Find what works for you.  Don't be ashamed when you need a little help along the way.  If you need a metaphorical Mt Gerizim, find it.  If you need a Mt Ebal, give yourself a little tough love.  Motivation is not a dirty word.
 
Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the LORD of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need. (Mal 3:10).
 
Dene Ward

One time when we kept our grandsons, twenty-month-old Judah usually climbed into my lap every evening as we sat at the table for a final cup of coffee.  It took me a minute the first time his little hand reached out in the air, but finally I realized he was trying to catch the steam wafting over my mug, and was completely mystified when it disappeared between his chubby little fingers.

              A lot of people spend their lives trying to catch the steam, vapors that seem solid but disintegrate in their grasping hands.  They do it in all sorts of ways, and all of them are useless. 

              Do they really think they can stop time?  Over 11,000,000 surgical and nonsurgical cosmetic procedures were performed in this country in 2013, and we aren’t talking medically necessary procedures.  The top five were liposuctions, breast augmentations, eyelid surgeries, tummy tucks, and nose surgeries.*

              Then there are the folks chasing wealth and security.  Didn’t the recent Great Recession, as it is now called, teach them anything?  Others are striving to make a name for themselves.  These are usually the same folks who tell Christians how pathetic we are to believe that some Higher Power would ever notice we even exist on this puny blue dot in the universe.  Yet there they all go looking for fame, fortune, notoriety, beauty, or even their version of eternal life.  All of it is nothing more than a dream.  It will disappear, if not in a natural disaster or an economic meltdown, then the day they die—and they will die no matter how hard they try not to.  They are the ones grasping at dreams which are only a vapor that disappears in a flash.

              Our dream isn’t a dream at all.  It is a hope, which in the Biblical sense means it is all but realized.  Sin and death have been conquered by a force we can only try to comprehend, by a love we can never repay, and by a will we can but do our best to imitate.  Yet there it is, not a wisp of white floating over a warm porcelain mug, but a solid foundation upon which we base our faith.  Heb 6:19 calls it “an anchor.”  Have you ever seen a real anchor?  If there is anything the opposite of a wisp of steam, that’s it—solid and strong, able to hold us steady in the worst winds of life.  Tell me how a pert nose and a full bank account can do that!

              The world thinks it knows what is real while we sit like a toddler grasping at steam.  When eternity comes, they will finally see that they are wrong.  Spiritual things are the only things that last, the only real things at all.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal, 2 Cor 4:6-8.

*Information from the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery

Dene Ward

Several years back we camped at Cloudland Canyon one autumn week, enjoying the new varieties of bird, the mountains carpeted with fall colors, and the spectacle every morning of clouds wafting through the campground from the cliffs just beyond it, cliffs high enough to look down on hawks as they soared by. 
 
             The neighbors twenty yards away were a small family, a man, his wife, and two little boys, the older about 7 or 8, and the younger just barely past the toddler years.  This was obviously a planned family outing, one that probably didn’t happen very often but that the parents were determined to make a good experience.  They did everything in a planned and almost regimented fashion.  “It’s time to light the fire.”  “Now it’s time to tell ghost stories.”  “Now it’s time to roast marshmallows.”  In between all this, the mother was on her cell phone every hour or so, sometimes for as long as a half hour, seeing to her business. 

              And both parents became impatient at the drop of a hat.  If the boys didn’t react to every activity as they thought they should, they became frustrated and almost angry.  (Who should be surprised if a ghost story terrified a four year old?)  They had mistaken the stereotype of a camping trip for the spontaneous fun of the real thing.  They had probably fallen for that “quality time” myth.

              And because we can’t seem to stop helping out, we offered them a few things, like some lighter wood to help get those campfires going more easily, and we occasionally stopped by on the way back and forth from the bathhouse, to talk and reminisce with them about the times when our two boys were that age.  They seemed appreciative, especially the father, who, we discovered when we got closer, was about 20 years older than the usual father of boys that age, and quite a few years older than the mother.

              As we talked we noticed that the older boy always wore Baylor tee shirts and sweat shirts and had a Baylor hat, so Keith talked to him some about football and asked how Baylor was doing.  The father sighed and said, “He doesn’t know anything about Baylor football.  He just likes the color green.”

              They left after just a weekend, and it sounded like they were leaving one night early, perhaps disappointed that this hadn’t turned out quite like they had expected. 

              You can learn a lot yourselves, just considering this family.  It’s always easier to judge from a distance.  But that little boy can teach us all something today.  Why is it that you assemble where you do?  Why did you choose that place?

              We would all understand the fallacy of going to the handiest place, regardless what they taught.  But how about this:  Do you go where you are needed, or to the place considered the most popular in the area, the most sociable, the one where you wouldn’t mind having people see you standing outside hobnobbing?  Do you go where the work is hard or where the singing is good?  Do you go where the preaching is entertaining or where the teaching is scriptural and plain?  Do you go expecting the church to do for you, or because you want to do for them?

              Too many Christians look upon a church in a proprietary way, as if they had the right to judge everything about it and everyone in it, especially the superficial things—the singing, the preaching, the way the people dress and their occupations and connections in the world.  The way some people choose congregations, they might as well go because they like the color green. 

              The church belongs to Christ, that’s what “church of Christ” means.  It belongs to God, that’s what “church of God” means.  Christ’s church is there to give me an outlet for my service and a source of encouragement toward doing that service.  It is not there to serve me and my preferences. 

              Someday that little boy will grow up and learn to examine the football programs he roots for, choosing them for their character and integrity instead of their colors.  Maybe it’s time we grew up with him.
 
Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 1 Pet 4:9-13     
 
Dene Ward