You will find dates from 1793 to 1796 for its opening, but evidently this one is on record and cannot be denied.  The property for the City Hotel in New York City was bought on January 24, 1793.  It was the first building built to be a hotel in America.  At 73 rooms it was huge for the time, but then New York City already boasted a population of 30,000.  It was also the first building in the city with a slate roof.  Hotels have come a long way—some of them anyway.
About fifteen years ago, a music teacher friend and I attended a state level vocal competition in a small Florida town.  She was the state treasurer, the one who handed out checks to judges and scholarship winners.  I was the accompanist for two of the entrants.  When we tried to make our reservations, the one hotel in town, an old Southern relic complete with ceiling fans and rockers on a wood-planked front porch, was booked solid and had been for months.  Our only choice was the motel up by the interstate.  We did not expect much, given the name on the sign and the price, so we weren’t surprised when we quickly stopped by to deposit our bags and saw the size of the room in the gloom.  We had no time to inspect the premises or even turn on a light or open the shades.  We just dumped our bags and drove on to the competition.
              When we returned about ten o’clock that night, we almost left our things and fled, but there was no place to run to.  The parking lot had been empty at 5 pm, but now it was full of souped-up, high rise, four wheel drive pickups, their fenders caked with streaks of mud and their windows with dust.  Evidently their owners also found their rooms cramped, because it seemed like all of them were standing outside, laughing uproariously at one another’s jokes and adding to their flannel-clad beer bellies by the six pack, several of which they tossed around. 
              We actually had to pull in between two of those trucks, and all talking ceased as we left our car.  I have never been so thrilled with my regular accompanist’s attire—a plain, black, mid-calf dress with a high neck and long sleeves.  My friend wore a dressy business suit, and we were both on the wrong side of forty, so they let us pass without a word.  When we got inside, we locked the door, put a chair under the knob, and pinned those still closed draperies overlapped and shut. 
              Then we saw our room in the light for the first time.  You could barely get between the outside edge of each bed and its neighboring wall.  The rod for our hanging clothes was loose on one end, and couldn’t support the weight of even my one dress, much less it and her suit.  The soap was half the size of the usual motel sliver, and the bath towels more like hand towels.  The pipes rattled, the tub sported a rust streak the color and width of a lock of Lucy’s hair, and the carpet had so many stains it looked like a planned pattern.
              After we managed to shower in the tepid, anemic stream of water, we pulled down the sheets and my friend moaned, “Oh no.”  With some trepidation I approached her bed in my nightgown and heels—neither of us wanted to go barefoot and they were all I had—and there lying on her pillow was a long black hair.  Her hair was short and very blond, she being a Minnesotan by birth with a strong streak of Norse in her veins.  “Please tell me the maid lost this hair when she was putting on clean—very clean—sheets.”
              “Okay,” I muttered.  “The maid lost that hair when she was putting on clean—ultra clean and highly bleached—sheets.”
              When we got to bed, it wasn’t to sleep.  Not with the noise going on in the parking lot just outside our door or in the neighboring rooms.  The walls seemed as thin as tent walls.  We rose in the morning bleary-eyed and ready to leave as quickly as possible.  This place offered no “free breakfast” and we would not have eaten it if it had.  We promised one another that if we ever had to come back and couldn’t get a room in town, we would stay anywhere else, even if it meant a fifty mile drive, one way. 
              It was a horrible experience, but some of us offer one just like it to the Lord.
              For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, Eph 3:14-17.
              According to Paul, it takes effort to allow Christ to dwell in our hearts, enough that he prayed for them to have the strength to allow it.  Are you allowing it?  And if you are, what sort of accommodations are you offering him? 
              Making a welcoming environment for him may not happen overnight, especially if we are dealing with deep-seated habits or even addictions of one sort or another.  He understands that, but we must constantly be adjusting our behavior to suit him, not ourselves, putting his desires ahead of our own, becoming, in fact, a completely different person altogether.  Wherefore if any man is in Christ, [he is] a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new, 2 Cor 5:17.
              But this isn’t just a problem for new Christians.  I have seen older Christians act as if Christ is nowhere nearby, much less dwelling in their hearts.  Their language, their fits of pique, their dress, their choice of entertainment, and the complete lack of spiritual nourishment they partake of starved him and ran him off a long time ago, and they don’t even seem to realize it.  What?  Do you really think he will stay in a flophouse instead of the four star hotel you should have offered him?
              What it all boils down to is a failure to live like we have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me, Gal 2:20.  Did you see that?  Allowing him to dwell in you (Eph 3:17) and living a new crucified life both happen “by faith.”  Even if you have been claiming to be a Christian for decades, if you are not living up to it, you do not have the faith required.  It doesn’t matter how many times you were dipped into a baptistery if nothing about you changed, or if you have gone back to that old way of life.
              What sort of room are you offering the Lord?  He spent a lot for it, and he will walk out if you don’t live up to the name on your sign—Christian.
 
Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the test! 2 Cor 13:5.
 
Dene Ward

This year I will celebrate a landmark birthday.  Suddenly birthdays have become less than exciting.  But all these years have given me one thing that I find invaluable, at least now that I am past them—a boatload of experiences.  In fact, you may be getting tired of hearing about them.
            Here is one that struck me just the other day:  I now need more than two hands to count the number of times a Christian has told me about having his horoscope read, having a tarot card reading, or going to a palm reader—“just to see what it’s like”—and have him tell me how astounded he was.   “I know it isn’t real, but it was so close, it was uncanny.”
            And do you think Satan is going to allow them to be so far off that you won’t even be tempted to believe in them?  Really now, Satan is not that stupid.  But sometimes I wonder about us!  Excuse me, I guess the word should be “gullible,” or perhaps the more politically correct “naïve.”  Solomon was not nearly so concerned about being PC.  The word he used when a child of God put himself into a position to be deceived was “fool.”
            Because deception is what surely follows if we are not careful.  This “uncanny” ability to be so accurate (we think) draws us closer and closer, until finally we are relying on those things more than God, and eventually instead of God.  Yes, it can happen to you.  I have heard Christians I thought were strong tell me they could not make a decision until they had read their horoscopes for the day. 
            And you know what is even scarier?  When it becomes obvious that we want to rely on these things instead of God, He will allow it.  And for this cause God sends them a working of error, that they should believe a lie, that they might all be judged who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness, 2 Thes 2:11,12.  He considers all such things “idolatry” because they are more important to the person than He is, and “adultery” because that person has been unfaithful to Him.  This is a serious matter.  That is another way Satan can get to you.  He will tell you it is just a fun little pastime.  Read Ezekiel 16 sometime today and see exactly how God depicts this “harmless” recreation.  I will judge you as women who commit adultery and murder are judged, and I will bring upon you the blood of wrath and jealousy, Ezek 16:38.   
            So think about it today.  What are we doing that seems harmless but that could have dire consequences if we let it go to its natural end?  Satan has dozens of beautifully crafted lures to draw us in, set the hook, and catch us before we even realize we are in danger.  He is not so stupid that he will make the traps obvious.  Be careful out there today.  Rely on God and Him alone.  Be faithful to Him and He will never be unfaithful to you.
           
For such men are false apostles, deceitful workers, fashioning themselves into apostles of Christ.  And no marvel, for even Satan fashions himself into an angel of light.  It is no great thing therefore if his ministers also fashion themselves as ministers of righteousness, whose end shall be according to their works, 2 Cor 11:13-15.
 
Dene Ward

All the stories my mother told me have come rushing back to me that past few weeks since her death.  One of the most special was the story of her conversion.  We could all learn a few things from this.
              Nearly a century ago, preachers often traveled from city to city and town to town, setting up tents and preaching every night for a week or more, depending on how things were going.  One of those preachers was Byron Conley, who toured Central Florida.  He was responsible for the beginning of many of the churches in that area.  One of those congregations was in a small town called Winter Garden, about 10 miles west of Orlando—at least in those days.  Now you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
              All of my grandparents lived in Winter Garden, the typical Southern town with a train track running down the middle of the main drag, and diagonal parking in front of storefronts like Piggly Wiggly, McCormick 5 and 10, a barber shop, and a drug store complete with soda fountain.  My father's mother, Thelma Ayers, attended one of those tent meetings and was converted to the Lord, and eventually became a member of the new congregation there.  Although her husband, my grandfather, was never baptized, she taught her three sons and all of them followed in her faith.
              My daddy was the oldest.  At 17, he took his high school sweetheart to church with him.  She had been raised a Methodist, mainly because it was the closest church to the house and they could all walk.  She told me that all she heard were slow dirges on Sunday morning, so that morning when she went to church with her boyfriend Gerald, she was in for a shock.  "They sang happy music!" she exclaimed.  The first song she heard was "Heavenly Sunlight," and the day she told me that story she added, "And I want that sung at my funeral."  And we did.
              So let's consider a few things this morning.  This was a small Southern town.  As is our custom and belief, they sang a capella.  It may have been "happy" compared to the slower organ pieces she was used to, but I imagine there were a few places, especially by the end, where the music dragged a bit.  I imagine there were a few flat Southern altos and a tenor or two that stuck out like a sore thumb.  This was not a performing choir, certainly not a pro or semi-pro praise band.  So why did the singing impress her so?
           Because it wasn't just a happy song.  It was sung by happy people, people who knew they were saved and pleasing to God, people who believed they were going to Heaven, people who, despite the trials of life, knew it was all worth it.  I have heard it said that our singing can be an evangelistic tool.  It certainly was for my mother.  But if the people do not match their songs, it is just another form of hypocrisy. 
           "Heavenly Sunlight" isn't as deep as some of the other older hymns but it certainly doesn't sit in the wading pool with the babes either.  It takes a mature spiritual mindset to see the "Sunlight" even in the "deep vale" and to have the faith to know that no matter what happens He will "never forsake thee."  She could see that faith in the faces of those people and eventually it became her own faith, a faith she passed on to children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
            Many of these thoughts ran through my head that afternoon as we sang for her the song that made all the difference in her life.  A small town southern church sang it like they meant it, and she wanted to know more about how they could do that when so few other places did.
           Would your singing begin the journey of conversion for a visitor?  It does not have to be ear-catching, toe-tapping, and rhythmically complex.  You just have to sing it like you mean it, and then live it that way too.
 
But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult in you.  (Ps 5:11).
 
Dene Ward

Our guest writer, Lucas Ward, will be discussing the book of Proverbs throughout this year.  I have taken the liberty of dividing his first lesson into parts A and B.

We are about to begin a topical study of the book of Proverbs with the hopes of learning to be a bit more wise.  So, the first question I want to address is "Is gaining wisdom really an important pursuit for a Christian?"
No, really, I'm serious.  Yes, wisdom is important.  Yes, our lives are easier when we approach them with a modicum of wisdom.  We would all like to think that we are wiser today than ten years ago, but as a Christian aren't there more important things to work on?  Shouldn't I be focusing more on building my faith?  Increasing my patience and perseverance?  Cementing my hope?   Is gaining wisdom really a priority for Christians?  Let's see what the Word says.
 
Rom. 11:33  "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past tracing out!" 

Mark 6:2  "And on the Sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astonished, saying, “Where did this man get these things? What is the wisdom given to him? How are such mighty works done by his hands?"

These passages show that both God our Father and Jesus our Lord are described as being wise.  Wisdom is one of the basic attributes of each.

1 Cor. 1:30  "And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption" 

Eph. 3:10  "so that through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places."

These passages teach that both Jesus and the Church epitomize God's wisdom.  And both God and Jesus are described as having wisdom as a basic quality.  So everything that has anything to do with the religion we are following for our salvation is based on wisdom, described as wise and is encompassed by wisdom. 

To nail it down further, note that the seven men chosen in Acts 6 to solve the problem of the daily ministration were known as wise (Acts 6:3).  The power behind Stephen's preaching which confounded his opponents was the Spirit and wisdom (6:10).  Do you want to be able to serve the Lord to the best of your ability?  Learn wisdom.  Do I want my teaching and preaching to be the most effective it can be?  I need to learn wisdom. 

Paul, not a man with a lot of free time on his hands, thought wisdom important enough that he twice told churches he was praying for their increase in wisdom.  (Eph. 1:17, Col. 1:9)  He then commanded the Colossians to walk in wisdom (Col. 4:5). 

So, is wisdom important?  The God we serve and the Savior who leads us are described as wise.  The Church we are a part of and our Lord Himself are called manifestations of God's wisdom.  To best serve Him we must be wise.  To best spread his word we must be wise.  His Apostle to the Gentiles spent precious time praying for increased wisdom for all Christians and commanded that we walk in wisdom.  Yes, I think growing my wisdom is important!  How do I do that? 

James 1:5  "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him."

Does that mean God reaches down and deposits wisdom in my brain as soon as I ask?  It seems He did that for Solomon; is that what James is promising for us?  I think most everyone would agree that is not what is being taught.  Rather, God will give us opportunities to grow our wisdom and all the help needed to see that we do if we truly desire to grow.  One of those opportunities to grow our wisdom has already been provided in the book of Proverbs.  Just read the mission statement of the book:

Prov. 1:1-6  "The proverbs of Solomon, son of David, king of Israel:  To know wisdom and instruction, to understand words of insight, to receive instruction in wise dealing, in righteousness, justice, and equity; to give prudence to the simple, knowledge and discretion to the youth—Let the wise hear and increase in learning, and the one who understands obtain guidance, to understand a proverb and a saying, the words of the wise and their riddles." 

To know wisdom, understand insight, receive instruction, give prudence to the simple and increase the learning of the wise.  It sure seems like if I study this book I will gain in wisdom.  Does Proverbs have all the wisdom a Christian needs?  Of course not.  There is wisdom regarding God's plan of salvation that wasn't revealed until 1,000 years after Solomon wrote this book.  The wisdom of the Gospel and the Church was also yet to be revealed.  So maybe we can't rely on Proverbs as the sum total of all wisdom we need, but 31 chapters of God inspired wisdom writing is a pretty good place to begin our journey to greater wisdom. 

Lucas Ward

The only newspaper we ever bother to buy, mainly because of the coupons, the crossword puzzle, and the sports page, is the Sunday issue.  The coupons pay for it so it isn’t even a guilty pleasure, not that the press is ever much of a pleasure anyway.  But the business page one recent week sounded like something you might read in a church bulletin—or at least hear from the pulpit or a Bible class lectern.   Notice:
              “A start [to reduce our stress] is to mitigate the desire to acquire.  Folks with a high net worth are frequently coupon clippers and sale shoppers who resist the urge to splurge…Many times the difference between true wealth and ‘advertised’ wealth is that those with true wealth are smart enough not to succumb to the lure of what it can buy.”  Margaret McDowell, “Lieutenant Dan, George Bailey, and Picasso,” Gainesville Sun, 12-14-14.
              When I turned the page I found this:  “Dress appropriately [for the office party].  Ladies…Lots of skin and lots of leg is inappropriate…Keep it classy.” Eva Del Rio, “Company Holiday Party Do’s and Don’ts for Millennials,” Gainesville Sun, 12/14/14.
              Jesus once told a parable we call “The Unrighteous Steward.”  In it, he took the actions of a devious man and applauded his wisdom.  He ended it with this statement:  For the sons of this world are for their generation, wiser than the sons of the light, Matt 16:8.  Jesus never meant that the man’s actions were approved.  What he meant was he wished his followers had as much sense as people who don’t even care about spiritual things.
              We still fall for Satan’s traps in our finances, believing that just a little more money will solve all of our problems.  We still listen to him when he says that our dress is our business and no one else’s.  It isn’t just short-sided to think that accumulating things will make us happy—even experts in that field will tell you it’s not “smart.”  It isn’t just a daring statement of individuality to wear provocative clothing, it’s cheap and “classless.”
              If we used our brains a little more, there would be less arguing about what is right and what is wrong.  We could figure it out with a little reason and a lot of soul-searching. 
              Why is it that I regularly overspend?  Because I am looking for love and acceptance from the world?  Because I trust a portfolio in hand instead of a God in the burning bush?  Because I have absolutely no self-control? 
              Why do I insist on wearing clothing that is the opposite of good taste and decorum?  Because I do not care about my brothers’ souls?  Because I do care about the wrong people’s opinions?  Because I am loud and brash and think meekness is a sign of weakness instead of strength?  Or maybe it isn’t any of these bad motives—maybe it’s just a lack of wisdom.  Is there any wonder that the book of Proverbs is included for us, and that so many times it labels people with no wisdom “fools?”
              Not just wealth and dress, but practically everything we struggle with could be overcome by being as wise as at least some of the “children of this world.”  Isn’t it sad that they so often outdo us in good old common sense?
 
Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is, Eph 5:15-17.
 
Dene Ward

Church shootings have become too real for me.  The one in Fort Worth in December was only 4 miles from the place where my sister and her family were also worshiping that day.
              I am not a professional, but I am married to one.  I have picked up a lot of things from sitting next to him while I try to watch a crime drama on TV as he systematically picks it apart.  Maybe some of what I have learned will help you too.  (And he will add things to this to make it more legitimate.)

              1.  First, to get this little matter taken care of, we are not talking about people coming to persecute you for your faith.  We are talking about law-breakers.  I am not going to argue that point.  My point is saving lives not arguing theology.

              2.  Leave it to the professionals, if your church has any.  We are blessed to have a couple of troopers, a deputy, and some retired law enforcement officers, including my husband who has actually been in and won a firefight himself.  I know many of you are licensed to carry, and I have no problem with that.  I have heard too many validated stories of people saving their own lives because they carry, not to mention that where we live there are always poisonous snakes, packs of dogs attacking the livestock, and rabid foxes, possums, and coons.  The right to carry is perfectly fine with me, and I wouldn't be surprised if a good 20% of our congregation do so.

              3.  If you do not have any professionals among you, then do your best with the training you have, BUT—be aware that the training given for the average guy (or gal) to carry is minimal at best, and absolutely nothing like the intense training a professional gets.  At the shooting in Texas several who were not pros made errors that could have led to tragedy—like waving their guns around when there were still innocent people between them and the bad guy.  They must not understand that handguns are not all that accurate at any distance over a few feet.  Even allowing your wrist to veer just a fraction off-center when you pull the trigger can have you hitting something (or someone) a couple feet to the side.  And bullets go through bodies, people.  If there is someone behind the bad guy, you may get a two-for-one without meaning to.  Amateurs also have bad habits like keeping their finger in the trigger guard (as Lenny Briscoe of Law and Order was wont to do) before they have even acquired a target. 
              And think of this: what if you do accidentally hit a little old lady who just couldn't duck fast enough or a terrified child who dashed across the aisle at just the wrong moment?  Modern forensic science will find out which gun fired the fatal bullet and you will know without a doubt that you are the one who killed an innocent.  Can you live with that?

              4.  If the intruders are satisfied with the money—GIVE THEM THE MONEY!!!  In our age I have little doubt that each member could give the same amount again just by giving up a month of Starbucks or a couple Sunday dinners out.  Far better the criminals leave with the money than someone dies because of ineptitude.

              5.  Your security patrols need to be paying attention, not talking to one another.  They should also be young enough to move quickly, not some eighty year old sitting in an easy chair.  They need an eye on the parking lot and one on whichever door is within sight and there should be someone who can see each door in the place.  How do they worship, you ask?  Our sound system goes all over the building.  They can sing and look at the same time.  In fact, they are more likely to be worshiping then than when they are sitting there chatting with one another.  And alternate the patrol duty every so often so they won't become blasé about it.
              But notice—this guy got in the assembly with hidden gun because he was recognized by many as a man who had come begging several times before.  Just like Satan, bad guys don't always look the part, so always be on guard.

              6.  You need to have drills so that each teacher knows what to do if the bad guy comes into the building during class time.  We have a signal and a lockdown.  Figure out what is best for you, but practice it several times and have the procedure printed out in each classroom.
              "But won't that unnecessarily scare the children?"  I hear someone asking.  Maybe, but anyone who calls himself a parent ought to have figured out by now how to give important information to his child without terrifying him.  We had fire drills in our home.  We talked about stranger danger and even had passwords we gave out when we sent someone to pick up our children somewhere when plans suddenly changed.  I don't recall any of this terrifying my boys.  Instead it told them what to do if, which is far more comforting than leaving them imagining the worst and wondering what to do.  And who says it won't someday be necessary after all?  We can hope and pray, but don't let your children suffer because you didn't do what needed to be done.

              7.  Keep your eyes open, even while sitting in the pew.  The man in Texas knew when those people would be the most vulnerable, when he could kill more of them quickly—during the Communion.  Too many of us hang our hats on the vertical Communion we have with the Lord and ignore the horizontal Communion commanded in 1 Cor 10.  This is supposed to be a unifying act by the church when it "comes together."  We are supposed to be noticing each other.  Maybe this is one good side effect of this horrible situation—now we will get it right!  Even if you can't make yourself look around at your brothers and sisters, at least keep your head up instead of tucking you nose into your navel and thinking that makes you more spiritual than everyone else.  If all those young mothers out there can hold a squirming child, correct another on the seat next to her, and still keep her mind on the services, surely the men out there can keep their heads up and still worship during the Communion.

              Please don't even think about being a hero if it isn't necessary.  This is not a movie scripted so that all the good guys survive and "live happily ever after" with only a token "flesh wound" to show for it.  My husband will tell you, flesh wounds hurt, even 24 years later.  There isn't a day goes by that he does not have pain from one or the other of the five he suffered.
              Keith has written the policy letter for our congregation regarding carrying in services and the guidelines we expect all to follow.  We will be happy to email you a copy if you either leave your email address below or, for privacy's sake, contact Dene on the left sidebar and send her your address via her blog email.
               And let's pray together that all this is for nothing.
 
Dene and Keith Ward

In the midst of grief there is always business that still needs to be taken care of.  Planning funerals, going through belongings, paying final bills, and other such matters.  But this is the first time I have had to deal with death certificates.  My mother took care of my father's since they lived over two hours south of us and I could not be there for everything.  If you have seen them, you know that there are two kinds, the long form and the short form—just like taxes.  The long form lists the manner and cause of death.
              The manner could be natural, homicide, accidental, etc.  The cause will be the primary cause, such as heart failure.  Then there are "other conditions contributing to death but not resulting in the underlying cause" which might include things like hypertension or diabetes.
              I began thinking about people I know who have experienced spiritual death—those who used to sit on the same pews I do, but for some reason left, those who decided that living as a Christian was not worth the taunts or the sacrifice or the minuscule persecution we have to deal with in this country, or simply not worth giving up the pleasures of this world.  Those causes of death are pretty obvious. But how about those who just weren't careful to live a "healthy" spiritual life, watching their diets and exercising their senses to discern good and evil (Heb 5:14)?  I wondered what their death certificates might look like.
            
              Manner of death:  suicide
              Cause of death:  sin
              Other contributing conditions:  failure to assemble with the saints, no companionship with their spiritual family except at the meetinghouse, prayer and Bible study deficiency, failure to consider and counteract the materialism of our "too rich" culture,  thoughtless acceptance of society's standards instead of determining whether those standards will help or hinder their spirituality and are truly part of a holy life.

              I will keep a copy of my mother's death certificate in the file next to my father's.  But this I know—it is only the certificate of their physical deaths.  They never had, and now they never will have, a spiritual death certificate.  I don't believe I could bear it if they had.
              Do you have one?
 
Blessed and holy is the one who shares in the first resurrection! Over such the second death has no power, but they will be priests of God and of Christ, and they will reign with him for a thousand years.  (Rev 20:6).
 
Dene Ward

A couple of weeks ago, I ran a load in the washer.  When the second spin stopped, I went in to transfer the clothes to the dryer and got a real shock.  The washer was empty.  I went back into the bedroom and sure enough, right there next to the hamper was the load I had intended to wash.  I had started the water, added the detergent, and then become distracted with something else and completely forgotten to put in the laundry.  What I had washed was water, which was useless when it comes to getting our clothes clean.
              Have you ever thought about the job the preacher is required to do?  It's one of the very few jobs in the world where a man is paid for telling people what is wrong with them.  It is his job to put us in the laundry and clean us up.  If he only preaches about things we are NOT doing wrong, and things we ARE doing right, how will we ever improve?  He might as well be washing water instead of dirty laundry.  Or are we saying we are already perfect and do not need to improve?
              Have you ever heard the expression, "The hit dog howls?"  Just imagine you throw a stick into a pack of dogs.  How do you know which one you hit?  The one that howls is probably the one you hit.  If the preacher isn't getting any howls, what good is he doing?  And, if you are howling, why don't you get out of the way of the stick?  Why don't you listen to his words and improve yourself?  Because it's easier to fire the preacher than admit I might need a run through the washing machine, that's why. 
              But getting rid of the preacher won't clean you up for your presentation before God on Judgment Day, will it?  Ahab thought it would.  "Is it you, you troubler of Israel?" he asked Elijah, when all the time it was Ahab causing the trouble with his refusal to repent.  He, too, thought it was Elijah's job to just wash water instead of dirty laundry.
              Our preacher recently presented a great series on parenting.  There were some howls.  Seems to me that isn't very smart.  The howling dog is just showing everyone who the preacher hit with his words.  If it were me, I think I'd keep my mouth shut.
 
I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season [when they want to hear it and when they don't]; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching. For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, (2Tim 4:1-3).
 
Dene Ward

I am not a gun nut.  I don’t know a whole lot about shooting.  But I do know some things that should be obvious, yet apparently are not.  When you shoot a gun, the bullet has to come down somewhere.
            We live in the country.  That means we do not have to worry about the laws against discharging a weapon in the city limits.  Since we have a lot more poisonous snakes, rabid coons, and bobcats ravaging the chicken coops than they do in town, that is a good thing.  Still, we must be careful.
            One reason many people use shotguns out in the country is that the load will scatter and not do much harm after a few feet.  If you shoot a rifle, you must constantly be careful of what is behind your target and the pitch of your gun barrel.  It must be pointing down so that if you miss your target, the spent bullet will hit the ground harmlessly not too far beyond.  If you miss what you are aiming at, the bullet keeps going until it either runs out of energy or hits something else.  And yes, even those supposedly harmless shots they fire in the air in all the old Westerns do eventually come down, and can still kill someone.  Evidently people who are not gun nuts, and certainly not physicists, write all those scripts because they regularly show their ignorance in these matters. 
            Words are like that.  Too many times we become angry, carelessly “shooting from the lip” or firing a few verbal bullets into the air, unaware of how those words may hurt those who may be within earshot.  Even words meant only for ourselves can cause damage to others when spoken aloud—there is always the chance that someone else will hear.  If a target needs a well-chosen word, chances are something spoken in haste was not well chosen anyway.  I need to keep it to myself until I am certain my aim is correct, the background is clear, and no one else is in danger.
            Just like a bullet, a word can come to rest in the heart of an innocent bystander.  Be sure you don’t make a tragic mistake.
           
I tell you on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you shall be justified, and by your words you shall be condemned, Matt 12:36,37.
 
Dene Ward

In honor of my mother whom we will bury this week, a repeat from the past.  I hope to be back to regular posting on Monday, December 2.

When I was a very young teenager, we lived next door to a family with five children under the age of ten.  We were new in the area and didn’t know them very well, but we knew those basics. 

              One Sunday morning my mother was reading the newspaper over a last cup of coffee when I heard her gasp.  The paper slipped out of her fingers into her lap and onto the floor.  The father of the family next door had been killed in an automobile collision the night before. 

              She immediately dressed and walked over to our neighbors’ home to see what she could do.  About an hour later we left for worship services as usual.  While we were there she organized a food drive, asking individuals in the church to bring whatever shelf stable items they could spare on Wednesday evening.  Afterward we headed back home, but my mother wasn’t finished.

              We walked in to that wonderful Sunday aroma of pot roast.  Even after all these years, I have never been able to replicate my mother’s.  But instead of immediately changing clothes and starting to prepare our dinner, she grabbed an apron and started telling my sister and I what she needed us to do.  She made the gravy, heated the rolls, and then proceeded to pack up the entire meal.  We stowed it all in big cardboard boxes in the trunk and then drove to the home of the man’s parents, where his wife and children had gathered with the rest of the family.  I remember walking up the steps to that frame house, holding that hot gravy in a Tupperware container, careful not to squeeze too tight so the steam wouldn’t cause the lid to pop right off.  We handed our dinner to the stunned people inside, then offered condolences and drove back home.

              We came in, changed clothes and sat down to paper plates, bologna, and bread.  There was nothing else easy to prepare on short notice.  Understand this:  I hated bologna.  But I relished every bite of that sandwich.  Nothing had ever tasted so good.  That’s what giving does to you.  That is precisely why Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

              I have often wondered if I have given my children enough of those kind of memories, lessons learned that you never forget, not even the smallest details.  Are you doing that for your children?  Do they see things that involve them and stay with them, teaching them the joy of giving to those in need, even if it costs you a little something. 

              I learned it the day I ate that sandwich and loved every bite of it and I have never forgotten that lesson.  And in case you wondered, our brothers and sisters in the church came through on that food drive.  We went to Bible study that Wednesday night expecting at most a couple brown grocery bags full to add to the one we brought.  I think we took three empties just in case to store the cans and boxes we expected to be handed.  Almost every member brought their own brown paper bag and nearly every one of them was full to the top. 

              We stopped next door on our way home, and carried those bags in that Wednesday night.  The new young widow watched in amazement as the four of us traipsed back and forth to the car, over and over and over.  We covered her table, her countertops, and half her kitchen floor with grocery bags.  That’s another sight I will never forget—her grabbing my mother around the neck and squeezing tightly as she said, “Thank you, thank you, oh thank you,” again and again and again, tears running down her cheeks.  It’s been over forty years, but it’s like it was yesterday as I sit here remembering. 

              Learn the gift of generous giving, giving even out of want, giving when it costs you something.  And above all, teach your children exactly how amazing a bologna sandwich can taste.
 
We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God that has been given among the churches of Macedonia, for in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part. For they gave according to their means, as I can testify, and beyond their means, of their own accord, begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints— and this, not as we expected, but they gave themselves first to the Lord and then by the will of God to us. Accordingly, we urged Titus that as he had started, so he should complete among you this act of grace. But as you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in all earnestness, and in our love for you— see that you excel in this act of grace also. 2Cor 8:1-7.
 
Hilda Ayers passed from this life into glory on November 20, 2019.

              She was born on June 12, 1928, in Jakin, Georgia, just across the Florida-Georgia state line.  Her mother, Estelle, had returned to her childhood home with her 18 month old son Harvey Lee (Dick) to have her second child while her husband Joseph Lee Davis stayed home to continue his work as a carpenter.  Three weeks later, he returned to pick up his growing family and take them back home to Winter Garden, Florida, in a small frame house at 91 N. Main St.

              Winter Garden sits in Central Florida just 10 miles from Orlando, the typical small southern town with a railroad running down the center and diagonal parking in front of a dime store, a barber shop, a bank, a Piggly Wiggly, and a drug store complete with soda fountain.  This small town was surrounded by orange groves and packing houses—at least until the Mouse became king.

              Hilda graduated from Lakeview High School in 1946 and a year later, on September 6, 1947, married her high school sweetheart, Gerald Ayers.  Their strong marriage lasted 64 years, until his death on September 11, 2011.  Their first home was in Winter Garden, but with Gerald's job changes and promotions they also lived in Orlando, Palmetto, Tampa, and Orlando once again where he retired.

              She was mainly a stay-at-home mom, but whenever the need arose, she took a job and worked as a bank teller, as a clerk in the registrar's office of the University of South Florida, and finally as an administrative assistant in the Orange County School System in Winter Garden, back where it all began.

              After retirement they enjoyed a small bit of traveling, but stayed active in the Lord's church wherever they lived.  They left behind a string of good deeds, generous gifts, and the strong example of godly lives. 

              In 2015, Hilda moved to Gainesville to be closer to her older daughter for both companionship and care.  She became a member of the Glen Springs Road church and instantly made a host of new friends with her sweet disposition and quick wit.  She will be missed by too many to list.

              Hilda is survived by her daughters Dene (Mrs. Keith) Ward of Lake Butler and Donna (Mrs. Dennis) Craig of Roanoke, Texas,  brother Johnnie (Jan) Davis of Leesburg, sister Bonnie MacDonald of Elijay, Georgia, 9 grandchildren and 7 great-grandchildren.  She was pre-deceased by husband Gerald, brother Harvey Lee (Dick) Davis, and sister Jo Ann Webb.

              Her biggest legacy is this:  of her 2 children, 9 grandchildren and 7 great-grandchildren and their appropriate spouses, every one of those who are accountable before God are His faithful children.  Her great faith will live on.

Dene Ward