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

Americans used to admire “the strong, silent type”—not someone who was uncommunicative, but someone who endured the hardships of life without complaint, a man who always kept a sane head on his shoulders when things got rough.  I don’t know what has happened, but nowadays strength seems to be measured by how loudly a man can rant and rave about his lot in life and anyone he can blame for it.
 
           Our culture has made whining a world class skill.  No, we do not call it whining, but that’s what it is.  We whine about our jobs, about our neighbors, about our families, about our health, about the government—they give all our hard-earned money to other people, but let them cut one of our entitlement programs and we whine even louder about that.  We whine about rising costs, about having to wait in line, about our lifestyles, about the driver in the car in front of us.  We whine about the church, about the singing, about the length of sermons, about the preacher, about the elders, and about how hot or cold the building always is.  Sometimes I feel like getting out Nathan’s violin and accompanying the dirge.  At least it would be easier on the ears—and I don’t even know how to play!

            Look at Numbers 11, the classic example of complaining in the Old Testament.  Every place it says weep, weeping, or wept, substitute whine, whining, or whined.  That is probably a perfect word for what was going on.  Look at Moses’ reaction in v 15.  Please allow me to paraphrase: “If this is the way it’s going to be, then do me a favor, Lord, and kill me.  I can’t take it any more.”  Why anyone would think that whining is a measure of strength is beyond me. 

            Whining impugns God’s goodness.  Think of all the things God does for us and gives to us, and still we whine.  Blessed is the man whom you choose and cause to approach unto you, that he may dwell in your courts.   How can we complain when we have that blessing?  We shall be satisfied with the goodness of your house, your holy Temple, Psa 65:4.  Because your lovingkindness is better than life, I will praise you.  So I will bless you while I live; I will lift up my hands in your name.  My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise you with joyful lips, Psa 63:3-5.  A far cry from whining, isn’t it?
            I may think that I am above the effects of my culture, that I am not influenced by the rampant materialism that often motivates this whining.  All I need to do is make a list of things I consider “necessities” to find out otherwise.  All I need to do is keep track of all the times I complain during the day to become thoroughly ashamed.  God destroyed those who whined against Moses.  Why will he accept my murmuring?  The poorest among us is wealthier than 90% of the rest of the world.  Imagine that.  And far beyond that, life is good, if for no other reason than I have a Savior.  In fact, do I need any other reason?
 
But even if you should suffer for righteousness’ sake, blessed are you; and fear not their fear, neither be troubled, but sanctify in your hearts Christ as Lord…1 Peter 3:14,15
Neither murmur as some of them murmured and perished by the Destroyer, 1 Cor 10:10
 
Dene Ward

Did you see it on Facebook?  "Ten Reasons a Southern Woman Will Always Survive a Horror Film," put out by "It's a Southern Thing."  It was cute, funny even, in spots.  Of course a Southern woman would never be caught in high heels in the woods.  Of course her car would always start because her daddy taught her how to maintain it.  And on it went.  I had thought of much of this before and I am sure you have too.  Why in the world would anyone go down in the basement alone when they heard a scary noise?  Why would any idiot open the door at night without looking to see who it is when there is a serial killer on the loose?

              But then I started thinking about spiritual things.  When we get caught by the snares of the Devil, aren't we being just as dumb?  God has already given us a list of reasons that we should survive.  Let's look at a few of them.

              1.  Exercise your faith.  If the car won't start, it's usually due to poor maintenance.  How am I doing at maintaining my faith?  But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil. (Heb 5:14).  Are you training your ability to tell right from wrong?  To know what you ought to do in a difficult situation?  To avoid the traps so many step right into?  If you never even think about how to overcome and make some definite plans, how do you expect that "car" to start when you need to get away quickly?

              2.  Don't hide in the closet, or on the rooftop or any place where there is no escape.  No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. (1Cor 10:13)  God will always provide that escape plan, but you will have to look for it, and you certainly have to avoid those places where you cannot get away no matter how hard you try.

              3.  Be on the alert, be ready, be prepared.  High heels in the woods make no sense at all.  Too many times we make the same mistake, always planning for things to go perfectly instead of planning for the times when they do not.  ​Put on your sneakers instead of your stilettos.  There IS a serial killer on the loose and you WILL need to run at some point.  Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (Mark 14:38).

              4.  Don't go wandering around in the dark.  Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12).  Look where you are standing.  Is it a place where the Lord is shining?  If where you are is not where the Lord is, you need to leave and leave now.  Just look for the glow and head there.

              5.  When the lights goes out, flip the breaker!  Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing. (1Thess 5:11).  Sometimes you become tired.   Sometimes you wear completely out.  That's when you look to the support of brothers and sisters who love you.  That is why God planned the church.  He knew better than we do, that sooner or later the power will go out simply because we become weary.  When you get tired, find that fuse box (your brothers and sisters) and flip that breaker.  I guarantee you, the power will come back on.

              6.  When you run by a shed full of tools, stop and get one to use as a weapon.  We are blessed with a whole suit of armor.  (Eph 6).  Put it on and use it.  You are not being corny, or pessimistic, or absurd—you are being smart.

              7.  Don't stand there screaming—RUN!  Flee fornication, idolatry, the love of money, youthful lusts (1 Cor 6:18; 10:14; 1 Tim 6:10,11; 2 Tim 2:22)—and anything else that can trap you and take you down.  It isn't brave to stand there and fight a monster—it's stupid.

              8.  Don't go in the basement, people.  If you use your head, you can come up with a host of places a Christian has no business being in, and many more situations he has no business participating in.  But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. (Rom 13:14).  "Making provision" meaning planning.  It's like being on a diet but loading the cookie and candy jars the day before you start.  Don't plan to fail, because that is exactly what will happen.

              I hope doing this in a fun sort of way will help you see these things more clearly.  If the Devil were Freddie Kreuger, too many of us would walk right into his waiting arms.
 
Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Therefore do not become partners with them; for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. (Eph 5:6-10).
 
Dene Ward

Men and women are different when it comes to directions.  Men want exact road names and exact number addresses.  Women?  We’re happy with, “Turn by the weeping willow and it’s the house with the closed-in carport.”  Even if I have been there before, Keith does not feel secure if he doesn’t have something more than, “Two roads past the firehouse and the next door neighbors have a yard full of crabgrass.”  I always thought it was my vision—I haven’t been able to read street signs in years, forget those numbers on the houses.  But no, all my women friends give directions exactly the same way:  turn left at the round-about and it’s halfway around the next curve where the honeysuckle blooms on the mailbox.  Can we help it if men can’t tell the difference between honeysuckle and plumbago?

              Funny how that also describes the difference in people spiritually.  Some people want a list.  Here, they seem to say, I’ve done this and this and this, so I ought to be all right.  Then there are others who go by what “looks right” or “feels right.”  I recently heard a young woman who has decided she wants to be a preacher say this: “When I walked into the room, I just felt at peace, so I knew God was saying that was all right.”  And this woman wants to preach the gospel?

              Just like you need a good balance of exact address and some helpful landmarks when following directions, maybe you need a good balance of exactly what is right and what is wrong plus the common sense to know when something just doesn’t “feel right.”  In Galatians 5 Paul ends that list of the lusts of the flesh with, “and such like,” and the fruit of the Spirit with, “against such there is no law.”  “Such” means he hasn’t listed every single thing, but if you are honest, you should be able to figure this out for yourselves.  It should be obvious to anyone with a normal IQ, he seems to be saying, but here is a list to get you started.

              “The Bible doesn’t say it’s wrong,” is an excuse as old as my grandparents at least.  I’ve heard it all my life.  It’s just an admission that the person doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose, the common sense He expects us to use when we are trying to determine His will. 

              You can’t check off your service to God as if it were nothing more important than buying groceries and you can’t tell Him it felt good so you fell for it, even if it did violate the plain words of scripture. 

              God gives us directions that are easy to follow—as long as you want to do His will.
 
If anyone's will is to do God's will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority. The one who speaks on his own authority seeks his own glory; but the one who seeks the glory of him who sent him is true, and in him there is no falsehood, John 7:17-18.
 
Dene Ward

On June 13, 2005, I was the Alpha patient, the first patient to receive a brand new type of intraocular lens that had not even been approved by the FDA.  I have several rare eye conditions and it was the only hope of saving my vision.

From my journal:
June 13, 2005, Monday—This is the big day.  “Terrified” pretty well says it all.  We began it with a prayer and that prayer continued on silently through the day for both of us. 

              We arrived early, expecting a wait, but they took me in early, after I signed some special consent forms upstairs.  Since the FDA had not approved this, “you will have to sign your life away,” the doctor told me, but what choice did I have?  I signed page after page, and then initialed some handwritten lines added up along the side of the form in the margin.  One of them said, “I understand that no one knows how this material will interact with human tissue.”  Then they sent me back downstairs to wait for pre-op. 

               We shared a long hug when they called my name.  Most folks were there for simple cataract surgery so I am sure that no one understood why we made such a big deal out of this, but it was possible that I would never see Keith out of that eye again, or the other one for much longer either.    
As usual with me, it took several tries to get an IV, along with a lot of pain and blood. 

               “You are a real challenge.”  First try, first bandage. 

            “Yep, you’re gonna be a REEEEAL challenge.”  Second try, second bandage.

              “Oh, I’m so sorry.”  Third try, third bandage.  “Let me go get the resident expert.”  She must have been, because she got it first try.

             They told me I would be in a “twilight sleep," that I would be able to respond but wouldn’t care and wouldn’t remember.  Famous last words.  I remember everything, including everything the doctor said as he worked.  Especially after they threw that sheet over my face.  The claustrophobia came in with a rush.  “You have oxygen, Mrs. Ward, you can breathe.”  Right.  Sure.  Someone must have accidentally turned it off. 

               Then the blue kaleidoscope show started, and at least I was no longer staring at what I knew must have been an inch thick, non-porous, air-tight wrap over my whole body.
 
             “We have full angle closure.”  Yikes.  Not good.  Maybe I should not have done so much research—I know too much.

              “Iris prolapse,” I heard next.  What?  This is what they said would abort the surgery, but Dr Osher kept going.

              “This is not small enough.  Give me another muscle hook.”  Now that’s not a pleasant thought. 

              “That’s too big.  Give me a smaller one.  No, not that one.  It’s still too big.  I want the (some number).” 

              Tug, tug. “I can’t get it.”  Tug, tug.  “Let me try the (some instrument).”  Tug, tug.  “Got it.”  Thank goodness, I was about ready to yank it out myself, whatever it was.

              “Now it’s time to make some decisions.”  Now?  What does he mean "now?"  Isn’t this a little late?

              “This is difficult.”  Amen.

              “Thank you, Lord.”  It was not the last time the doctor thanked God, nor me either.

              Assorted technical stuff and lots of video off, video on for the next two hours.

              “I’ve got Healon 5 (?) behind the lens.  (Flush, flush, flush).  This may be obsessive but I can’t leave it or she’ll have a capsular blockage.  I’m not going to use this on the other eye.  (Response:  Not at all?)  Can’t risk it.”

              “I’m putting in enough drops to float the Queen Mary.” 
After nearly three hours under that sheet, the light show stopped.

              I cannot see a thing with the right eye.  “Your eye will stay shut because of the anesthesia till sometime tonight.”  That explains that.  I did not even realize it was shut.

                My blood pressure is 170/98.  Terror will do that to you.
 
The things that go through your mind during a time like that always seem ridiculous when it's all over, but near-hysteria is another product of terror.  I think hearing everything he said, especially when he became agitated because things were not going well, made it worse.  He may have thought I was calm merely because I never uttered a sound until he asked a question, but I was just too petrified to move.
 
             Look through that again.  The thing he said that I remember best was, "Now it's time to make some decisions."  That came closest to making me lose it.  Isn't the middle of a first ever surgery a little late to be making decisions?  I learned later what he really meant.  This man was as ready for this surgery as he could be, staying late several evenings with a full surgical team to practice on pig eyes before he ever touched me.  He knew exactly what tools to use and the course of the procedure.  What he did not know, was how my 15 mm nanophthalmic eye would react when he placed the 50 diopter prismatic IOL inside it, and what he might have to do if something unexpected happened—like full angle closure or an iris prolapse.  He did not know how, or even if, I would be able to see afterward.  He very carefully explained that in clear, no-nonsense language the day before.  Yes, he was as ready as he could be.  There was nothing slapdash, hit-or-miss about it.  And due to all that preparation, he succeeded in saving my eyes for a while longer, accomplishing the same near-miraculous feat six months later with the left eye.

              How well do you plan for the major trials of your life?  That is exactly what each temptation is—just like a major and very dangerous surgery.  No, you cannot know exactly when it will happen.  No, you cannot know exactly how Satan will come at you.  But do you have a plan in place for defeating him?  Are you building a fortress around your soul with prayer, Bible study, and the fellowship of brothers and sisters who can help?  "If this temptation comes, this is what I will do," and then work on those very things.  Have you planned which passages to read, which hymns to sing, what words to pray, or who to call for encouragement?  Or are you going into major surgery with an unlicensed surgeon who flunked his anatomy test—are you counting on an unprepared you and only you?  I had a doctor who is considered one of the top five eye surgeons in the world and even he practiced!

              When the actual trial comes, it will hit you hard and fast and it will be far worse than you ever imagined it could be.  But how much worse will it be if you are not even a little prepared?  When you do not prepare to win, you have prepared yourself to fail.

              NOW is the time to make some decisions.  If you think you can just sit back and start operating and everything will be fine, you will lose your patient at the outset—and that patient is YOU!
 
For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2:11-14).
 
Dene Ward

We started out in a ten by fifty trailer we bought from another Florida College Bible student couple.  They had moved on to his first full time work.  The next year we did the same and passed the trailer on to yet another.

              That first move put us in a little shoebox of a house that the small Midwestern church supplied for us.  It was far superior to the trailer, even though it only had one bathroom and the third "bedroom" wouldn't even hold a double bed.  The huge pantry more than made up for those small inconveniences, especially since there were only the two of us anyway.

              Another move, another church, and we actually bought the only truly nice house we have ever lived in—a three bedroom, bath and a half, family room with fireplace, brick home on a half-acre lot full of climbing roses, irises, azaleas and dogwoods.  But it wasn't to last.

              Three years later we were on to another church.  This one owned a brand new 24 x 60 doublewide with a large built-on utility room.  It was plenty roomy, if flimsy, with thin walls, leaky pipes, and a low ceiling that made it so hot in the summer you wanted to just crawl through it, especially in the narrow kitchen.

              The next house I have written about before, just a few weeks ago, in fact (see 8/29/2019 in the archives).  That one may be the most memorable for the freezing temperatures—inside, not outside--and the faulty wiring that gradually ate up our appliances.

              But for the past almost thirty-eight years we have been in this house—another double wide, not as large as the previous one, but much better built, and carefully tended and mended by us.  We never really thought we would still be here, but God has a way of making plans that are different from yours.  Another thing I always thought was that someday I would have the nice home my mother and sister eventually had, and that it seems most of my friends did too—and the Lord laughed once again.  But let me tell you what I have learned about that.

              This little 1300 sq ft box was good enough to keep me and my family warm and dry, at least when there wasn't an active leak.  It was good enough to raise my boys in, and they were never too ashamed to bring their friends, even after one of the bathtubs developed a crack in the bottom and you had to straddle it while you showered so you wouldn't fall through to the ground underneath.  (Yes, we finally got it fixed.)

              It was large enough to take in several weary travelers whose car gave up the ghost in the wee hours one morning.  It was good enough to hold more than a few Bible studies in.  It was good enough to show hospitality to probably a hundred or more brothers and sisters, neighbors, family, coworkers, and friends over the years.  It was good enough to host a shower or two, a church small group meeting, singings, and several other meetings of various stripes.  It has been plenty good enough to counsel struggling souls many times.  It has even been good enough to share with complete strangers who needed a hot meal and a place to stay.

              None of my guests ever complained about the small accommodations, sometimes not even a room to themselves but an air mattress on the living room floor or a pillow and blanket on the sofa, and a shower as small as an old-fashioned phone booth—one Superman could not have even turned around in, much less changed clothes.  None of them complained about the meals—and they weren't all great, let me tell you, especially in the early days.  None of them acted like they were anything but satisfied with what we had to share. 
 
             So remember this:  It does not matter how little you have to offer.  It does not matter how small, how plain, how uncomfortable your house is.  We once ate a meal at the home of a church widow whose kitchen was so small that by the time we put the extensions in the table, we had to take turns going around it to our seats, and if anyone needed to get out, everyone had to stand up and move out first.  That sweet lady was not a bit embarrassed because she was so thrilled that someone would actually take her up on her offer of hospitality.  Maybe that has always been in the back of mind as I considered my duty as a hospitable hostess.  Sometimes we have to do some skillful maneuvering around my table too!

              All you really need is a place full of love, a spirit of generosity, and a warm welcome.  Whatever you have is enough to fulfill the command to serve others.  Don't excuse yourself because you think you don't have what it takes in physical comfort and wealth.  And don't judge others so shallowly either.  I bet they would be thrilled to take you up on your offer.
 
Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. (Heb 13:1-2).
 
Dene Ward

Many, many years ago we rented an old frame house with rollercoaster wooden floors, leaky, drafty, fifteen foot ceilings, and, unfortunately, a bad wiring system.  We did not know about the faulty wiring until one by one our appliances started going out.  One of the last was the television, an ancient, secondhand model.  When its replacement blew the minute we turned it on, and the next, which had worked fine in the store, did the same, things began to fall into place—the electric skillet, the vacuum cleaner, the washing machine, and the electric mixer all had died in the week or two before.  A friend came with a voltmeter and we discovered that we were getting 145 volts in the 110 outlets and 290 in the 220s. 
 
           A call to the electric company brought an inspection.  It wasn’t the old wiring after all; it was the transformer, which meant the electric company was at fault and paid for all the appliances, at depreciated value, of course, but at least we had a little help.  I’ll tell you this, though—never since then have I had a mixer that could whip egg whites in ten seconds flat.

            Sometimes I feel like I need a little extra voltage, don’t you?  Life has its difficult moments, and it seems the older you are and the less strength your body has to deal with it, the more difficulty it must withstand.  But spiritually speaking, that should not be the case.  Age means experience, which means wisdom, which means things are handled better and more easily, right?

            Lucas recently repeated something he had heard from someone somewhere.  “Sometimes the discretion of wisdom is just the result of being too tired to act.”  I identified with the thought immediately.  I wonder how many times I have been complimented for my restraint in handling things when the momentary lag of weariness just gave me enough time to think first, or maybe when it just plain overwhelmed me enough to keep me still and out of trouble.

            I feel sometimes like I need a spark, that extra voltage that made a stiff meringue faster than I ever had before.  We all tend to become complacent, to take for granted the spiritual blessings we have, even salvation.  It usually shows in our anemic zeal and ho-hum worship.

            And we get tired of the fight.  Yet again someone has belittled the Word of God, or taken His name in vain, or simply treated sin as normal and anyone who thinks otherwise as a bigoted fanatic.  After fighting for God for so many years, feeling like we are making no headway at all in a world dominated by sin, we just sit back and let it happen.  What good will it do anyway?

            You never know.  More than once I have spoken out alone, only to suddenly find several others standing next to me—people who were too fearful to speak until they heard someone else.  I have found out, many days after the fact, that when I stood for the truth, or acted like a Christian is supposed to act in the face of mistreatment, that it helped someone else do the same later on.  And many, many more times, I have been the fearful one who was helped simply by seeing a warrior for righteousness take on Satan and his minions single-handedly.

            So take some spiritual vitamins today.  Pray, read the scripture, meditate in your break time, call a brother or sister and revel in their love—that’s why they are there, that’s why God gave us each other.  Put a jolt of extra voltage in your spiritual life and don’t give in to weariness.  You do make a difference for the Lord.
 
You are righteous, O Jehovah, and upright are your judgments.  You have commanded your testimonies in righteousness and very faithfulness.  My zeal has consumed me because my adversaries have forgotten your word.  Your word is very pure, therefore shall your servant love it.  I am small and despised, yet I do not forget your precepts.  Your righteousness is an everlasting righteousness and your law is truth.  Psa. 119:137-142.     
 
Dene Ward

“Are you looking for a sign?  This is it!”
 
             We saw that on a highway somewhere when we were traveling, and under it the address of the local church.  I laughed then, but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea.  People are still looking for a sign, just as they were in Jesus’ day.

              I have heard a lot of talk about roadside signs in my lifetime, many of them negative, and I understand the concern.  The church is an undenominational entity and those signs, if they are not carefully worded, can teach things we are trying not to teach. But can I say this one thing about them?  Through the years, many people have shown up at various church doors where I worshipped because of the sign.  They remembered it from childhood.  Or maybe they remembered a neighbor who acted differently than their other neighbors, who helped their family when no one else did.  They remembered other neighbors, people who faced their own tragedy and came through it with a smile and faith intact.  Maybe they remembered the times that neighbor invited them to church and now they are in the middle of a crisis and they see a sign in front of a building that looks awfully familiar, one like the sign where their neighbor faithfully attended year after year no matter what was happening in their lives or in the world.

              That is certainly one benefit of those signs that people, including me, sometimes wish weren’t there any more, or were worded much differently.  But maybe this is what we need to concentrate on: that sign wouldn’t have done a thing in the cases I mentioned if the remembered people hadn’t been the kind of people they were. 

              Our lives are supposed to be the sign.  In a world where “Christian” can mean anything and everything, you should still be able to tell a genuine one by how he acts.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven, Matt 5:16.  If you really want people to be interested in your faith, then show them a faith worth being interested in.

              A lot of people in Jesus’ day wanted the other kind of sign.  What did Jesus have to say about that?  Then some of the scribes and Pharisees answered him, saying, “Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.” But he answered them, “An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah, Matt 12:38,39.  Jesus knew that a miraculous sign would do no good.  He said as much in the parable where the rich man desired Abraham to send Lazarus back from the dead as a sign to his brothers, but was told, “If they will not hear the Law and the prophets, they won’t hear if someone comes back from the dead.”  The sign on Mt Carmel ultimately did no good either.  The next morning Jezebel was still in power, able to threaten Elijah and send him running.

              No, the signs that really matter are the ones we act out in front of our friends.  Those are the signs that spark their interest and lead them to ask questions, signs that will eventually start them reading the Word of God and finding their way to Him.  Miracles didn’t work for Jesus, and he steadfastly refused to send a sign at their request.  Though he had done so many signs before them, they still did not believe in him, John 12:37.  What worked were his words and the life he lived, and that’s what works today.

              You are the sign people are looking for.  Word it carefully.
 
Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, and not frightened in anything by your opponents. This is a clear sign to them of their destruction, but of your salvation, and that from God, Phil 1:27,28.
 
Dene Ward