I have been in waiting rooms a lot lately.  When you have a rare condition, you tend to be there more often and when your doctor treats only the difficult cases, the wait is longer—the corporation tends to schedule appointments much more closely than he can possibly keep up with in a timely manner—in this case, every 10 minutes.  So I regularly sit two to three hours before I even see the man, but when I finally do, he is friendly, good-natured, but serious about my problem and gives me all the attention he thinks I require, which has been up to an hour.  So he gets even more behind because of me.
     I was in that waiting room recently, along with about two dozen others.  It tends to get more and more crowded as the day wears on and the doctors lag more and more behind.  Across the room a young child, maybe 3, was obviously tired of waiting.  He was out of his chair, whining, and stamping around on his little red sneaker clad feet.  His father sat on one side and his mother on the other.  Each parent was busy with a phone.  In fact, the mother also had her laptop open.  All they did was hiss at him to be quiet and sit still and immediately return to their devices.  He was three years old!  He had been sitting fairly still for at least 20 minutes!  What did they expect?
     Parents!  Please put your phones away.  Do it right now just to prove that you can!  But more than that, put it down and pay attention to what is going on with your children.  I have no doubt you will have plenty of time to look at the thing sometime during the day, but being a parent to your children is the most important part of your day, not being a parent to your phone.  That is exactly how it looks sometimes—like the phone needs more care than the child.
     I am not unsympathetic.  My poor boys have sat with me for hours in waiting rooms because grandparents lived hundreds of miles away and we could not afford babysitters and food for them and eye medicine for me.  I did not expect them to sit absolutely still and quiet.  We took bags of Matchbox cars, books, and favorite stuffed animals.  Occasionally we all played together, but usually they did fine with each other.  I also had a couple of non-messy snacks for them, and bottles of water or juice.  When time became long, I told the receptionist I would be in the parking lot should they call me, and we went out to walk around and explore so they could get some fresh air and enough exercise to kill the antsy-ness.  The people in the office were always understanding and complimented them when finally we left.   Most of the time, all your children want is a little attention.  They want to know they matter to you. And then they can be happy by themselves a little while longer.
     I walk past mothers in the supermarket who are looking at their phones, or even talking on them.  A few times the child in the seat of the cart was about to stand up and reach for something and mom had no idea until I pointed.  Once, I was ready to make a mad dash to catch a falling child even if the mother was far closer than I was.  Put down your phone.  If it's someone who really matters, who is truly a friend, they will understand.  Talk to your children.  Listen to your children. 
      I have about had it with moms and their "me time."  When you decided to take on the privilege of raising a soul to God, you sacrificed a lot of things, including regular "me time."  Please don't resent it, don't resent the children who are causing it.  In a few very short years they will be gone, and what will they remember of their childhood and their parents?  Watching them look at their phone all the time?  Trying to ask a question only to be met with, "Shhhh," over and over?  Needing a hug and getting a glare instead?
     Think of it this way:  you are learning to be the servant God wants you to be.  Suddenly, you won't be spending an hour putting on make-up when you go out.  You will find that instead of shopping for yourself, you are spending the available income shopping for children who outgrow clothes faster than ice cream melts in a Florida summer.  By the time those precious souls have left you, you will have grown into exactly the kind of servant God wants you to be, still serving others, even looking for ways to serve others, because you have finally grown up spiritually and understand the secret of true happiness—serving others, not self and certainly  not a phone.
     That won't happen if you look at your phone longer and more often than you focus on your child.  Nothing on that contraption is more important than they are. 

And he said unto them, Set your heart unto all the words which I testify unto you this day, which ye 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…(Deuteronomy 32:46-47).

Dene Ward

It takes us three days to pack for a camping trip.  I have a list saved on the computer that I print out every time—three pages.  Yes, I said three pages.
            Just for meals, for instance, I pack cups, mugs, plates, soup bowls, a measuring cup, grill tools, saucepans, skillets, the coffee pot, propane stoves, matches, gas canisters, coffee filters, a griddle, a folding grill, a mixing bowl, silverware, mixing spoons and spatulas, foil, Ziplocs for leftovers, a bacon drippings can, paper towels, dish soap, a dish pan, dish towels, hot pads, and trash bags, and that doesn’t count the food!  Now imagine things you need for every part of your day, from brushing your teeth, to hiking, to showering, to sitting around after dark reading, to going to bed, and you begin to see why the list is three pages long.
            We use this list because I have found that if I don’t have it to cross off, I will invariably forget something.  From time to time we delete something on the list or add something as our situation changes.  When we were young we didn’t need to take two boxes of medications. 
            We keep a backup disk of items saved on the computer.  That list is on it.  Should we ever lose it, I might even be tempted to never go camping again.  I cannot imagine having to remake the list from memory.  More likely, we would remake it around the fire the first night after discovering all the things we forgot.
            When we had boys with us, I had other things on the list that were equally important.  In fact, I was probably more careful about their things than mine.  I wanted them to have enough clothes, especially enough warm clothes.  I learned that lesson the hard way when we woke up by a mountain stream one June morning to fifty degree temperatures and they had nothing but shorts and tee shirts to wear.  Fifty degrees in June?  As a Florida native I didn’t even know that was possible, and I felt horrible, quickly mixing up some warm oatmeal and hot chocolate while Keith built a campfire for them to huddle around as they ate.
            We are all on a trip every day of our lives.  What have you packed for your children?  Too many parents just let life happen without a plan.  Do you teach them?  Do you talk with them every chance you get about a God who loves them, who made them, and who expects things of them?  Do you discuss the things that happen in their lives and the decisions they made, or perhaps should have made?  Do they know that those decisions will affect their eternal destiny?  Do you allow them to pay the consequences for their mistakes, or do you shelter them?  Do you tell them what the world is really like out there, how to recognize the traps, the enemies in disguise and the true values of life?  Are you sure you have everything they could possibly need to assure their eternal destiny?
            Maybe you need to make a list.
 
We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done. He established a testimony in Jacob and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments; Psalms 78:4-7.
 
Dene Ward

I don’t know what we would have done without hand-me-downs. 
            Lucas survived his infancy on borrowed baby clothes, but that young mother soon needed them again so there were no tiny clothes to pass down to Nathan.  At that point we were living by a children’s clothes factory and could go to the outlet store and buy seconds for as little as fifty cents each.  Each summer and each winter I dug my way through a mountain of irregulars and managed to find three shirts and three pairs of either shorts or long pants, according to the season.  Sometimes the colors were a little odd, like the “dress” shoes I bought for Lucas when he was two—maroon patent leather with a beige saddle—but they covered his feet for $1 and no one was likely to mistake them for another child’s shoes.
            Then, just as they reached school age, we found ourselves in a church with half a dozen little boys just three or four years older than they.  Suddenly my boys’ closet was bursting.  They were far better dressed than I was, and they had even more waiting to be grown into.  They didn’t mind hand-me-downs and neither did our scanty bank account.
            Keith and I have followed suit.  Probably 75% of my clothes are hand-me-downs, and the rest I picked up at consignment shops and thrift stores, with only a handful of things I bought new, always off a clearance rack.  Keith has more shirts than he could wear in a month—we didn’t buy a one of them.
            When you get a hand-me-down, sometimes you can’t wear it as is.  Sometimes it’s my own personal sense of taste, meager though that may be.  Sometimes it’s a size issue.  I have been known to take up hems or let them out if the giver was taller or shorter than I.  I almost always remove shoulder pads.  I have wide shoulders for a woman and shoulder pads make me look like a football player in full gear.  If the collar has a bow, a scarf, or high buttons, those go too—I hate anything close around my neck and it makes my already full face look like a bowling ball.  So while I gratefully accept those second hand clothes, I do something to make them my own.
            Which brings me to handed-down faith.  Being raised in the church can be both a blessing and a curse.  Being taught from before you can remember means doing right becomes second nature.  There is never any question where I will be on Sunday morning because I have always been there.  There is never any question what I will do when it’s time to make a choice that involves morals or doctrine.  There is never any question about my priorities—my parents taught those to me every day of my childhood, both in word and deed.
            Yet God will not accept any faith that is not my own.   Yes, He was with Ishmael for Abraham’s sake, Gen 17:20; 21:13.  To those who are dear to His children, but who are not believers, God will sometimes send material blessings, 39:5, and physical salvation, 19:29, but He will not take a hand-me-down faith until it becomes personal, Ezek 18:1-4.  I have to reach a point where I know not only what I believe, but why, and that faith must permeate my life as I lead it, in every situation I find myself in, in every decision I must make, but at the same time come from my heart not habit.  If I have not reached that point, what will I do when my parents are gone?  Will my faith stand then?  Or will I be like Joash, who did just fine as long as his mentor Jehoiada the priest was alive, but fell to the point of killing his cousin Zechariah, a prophet of God, when he was finally left on his own? (2 Chron 24) 
            Pass your faith on to your children, but your job doesn’t end there.  Help them make it their own.  Let them tear out those shoulder pads and lengthen those hems.  It really isn’t a compliment to your parenting skills if all they can do is mimic you while you are still alive to keep tabs on them.  You might in fact be limiting them by demanding exact conformity to every nuance of your own faith.  Their faith could very well soar farther than you ever thought about if you let them fly.
            But the real test comes when you are gone.  Can you rest well with the job you have done?
 
I think it right, as long as I am in this body, to stir you up by way of reminder, since I know that the putting off of my body will be soon, as our Lord Jesus Christ made clear to me. And I will make every effort so that after my departure you may be able at any time to recall these things. For… we have something more sure, the prophetic word, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts, 2 Peter 1:13-15, 19.
 
Dene Ward

I picked up the phone and within ten seconds wished I hadn’t.  I was a new bride and it was my first experience with a telemarketer. I couldn’t fathom someone who had an answer for every reason to say “No.” 
            I’d been taught to always be polite so as long as he talked I listened.  Finally I said, “I couldn’t spend this much money without talking to my husband first anyway.”
            Yes, he even had an answer for that one.  “Don’t you think it’s about time you learned how to make decisions on your own?”
            He had finally gone too far.  “How we run our marriage is our business, not yours,” I replied and hung up.  He found out in short order that my acceptance of my husband’s authority didn’t mean I was spineless.
            Too many women today seem to think it does, and worse, care far too much about what other people think about them.  I feel the same way about that as I do about men who won’t help with child care and housework because, “That’s woman’s work.”  Shakespeare put it best:  “Methinks thou doth protest too much.”  It takes strength to submit; weakness cannot overcome the natural tendency to want attention and power.
            Sarah comes to mind.  In a misguided attempt to help God fulfill his promises to Abraham, she and Abraham arranged a surrogate mother.  Hagar was “her handmaid,” Gen 16:1,3, a personal servant of Sarah’s, not a simple slave girl who would have been under Abraham’s authority (Growth of the Seed, Nathan Ward).  When Hagar’s attitude toward Sarah eroded into hateful disrespect--“her mistress became despised in her eyes” v 4—Sarah was ready to throw her out.  At that time, in that culture, Hagar as her handmaid was her business, not Abraham’s.  Yet Sarah, in her submission as a wife, still went to Abraham first.  Even he said, “Behold, your maid is in your hands.  Do what you think is best,” v 6.
            Please note, the surrogacy arrangement did not change Hagar’s status.  She is still called “handmaid” by the writer and by God (21:12), and the angel of Jehovah told her she was wrong to have fled, that the right thing was to return to her mistress (16:7-9), just as it was for Onesimus to return to Philemon.  Sarah did not have to ask Abraham for permission, but she went the extra mile in her submission to him.
            So how am I doing at this submission business?  Do my friends know that my husband is the head of the house, or would they throw their heads back in gales of laughter at the very thought?  Am I embarrassed to say, “I need to talk with my husband,” before making a major decision?
            Even the New Testament recognizes that a woman has a realm of authority in the home.  Widows are to remarry and “rule the household,” 1 Tim 5:14.  That word “rule” is not the same Greek word as the one in 3:4, elders should “rule well their own household.”  The word in 5:14 is one that means “manage [the home specifically] under a master.”  Just as the store manager does not expect to be micromanaged by the owner of the business, he still understands that he must ultimately answer to that owner.  Would anyone expect otherwise?
            It is time to stop being cowed by our increasingly godless culture, afraid to admit that we actually believe what the Bible says about unpopular things.  The next time someone insults you for your voluntary subjection to your husband, show them just how much spine you do have.
 
For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening, 1 Peter 3:5-6
 
Dene Ward

It’s been over three decades now.  Things have always been tight for us, but that particular time was the worst.  Through no fault of his own, Keith was in between preaching jobs, making ends meet with a couple of part time jobs and two or three preaching appointments a month, while finishing up his degree on the GI Bill.  I had a twenty-month old, was five months pregnant, and battling both an ulcer and gall stones.  Every month we pulled the belt a little bit tighter.
            I had $20 a week to spend on groceries—period.  Even in that day it was only about half what others spent, even those who thought they were living closely.  I bought one piece of meat or poultry a week and made it last four or five days.  A whole chicken (19 cents a pound on sale) provided the breasts for our one splurge meal that week—we actually had a whole chunk of meat on our plates.  The next day I used the thighs for a casserole of some sort, and with enough filler like rice or noodles it lasted two nights.  Then I boiled the backs, wings, and neck in a huge pot of water as a base for chicken and dumplings, a copious amount of dumplings, for another two night meal.  The other two nights that week we filled up on meatless meals—cheese omelets, pancakes or waffles, black beans and rice, pinto beans and cornbread, lentil soup, or on really tight days—biscuits and gravy, the gravy using only bacon drippings, flour, and milk.  Don’t ever judge a person’s wealth, or even their self-control, by their girth.  Poor people food is fattening food.  Only the economically comfortable can afford fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains, lean meat, and fish.
            Besides learning to stretch a dollar, I also learned to eat more slowly.  My little boy may have been a toddler, but he still needed to eat to grow.  I gave him the small plateful I thought he could eat, but often, when he asked for “more,” the only “more” was on my plate.  I had already rationed Keith to the point that I worried that a grown man working that many hours a day had enough to survive.  So I willingly scraped off what was left on my plate onto my child’s.  I was more than happy to do that for him.  When we chose to have these children, we automatically took on the responsibility to feed them and care for them, even if it meant we didn’t eat.
            I am afraid I am seeing parents who don’t believe that any more.  I know many fine young Christians who automatically sacrifice for their children, but the world doesn’t seem to think that’s normal.  Have you looked at the magazine rack in the grocery store?  Have you heard the discussions with people who think that everyone but they themselves should pay for their child’s basic necessities?  But let’s keep this personal instead of political.
            “I’m so tired.”  “I’m so stressed.”  “I don’t have time for me any more.”
            No, you don’t.  Yes, it’s exhausting, it’s frustrating, it’s completely overwhelming.  That’s what happens when you take on the care of a completely helpless human being.  That’s what you signed on for when you decided to have a child.  That’s the commitment you made when you decided to enjoy the act that might produce that child.
            You may not have as much time to primp and preen as you’re used to.  You may go weeks or months without being able to enjoy your favorite pastime or hobby.  You may go seven years without a single new article of clothing because any pennies you can squeeze out of the paycheck go to the three shirts, three pairs of pants, four pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, and one pair of shoes you must buy for a growing child every six months at yard sales, outlets, and consignment shops.  You may even scrape the food off your plate. 
            That’s what loving, responsible parents do, and they never begrudge the sacrifice, especially not the time, because one day, far too soon, you wake up and it’s over.  No more babies to rock, no more stickers to put on the potty training chart, no more little fingers in the cookie dough.  You’ll have all the time in the world for yourself—your career, your hobbies, your hair appointments and shopping sprees—but no amount of wishing will give you back the time you could have spent teaching, training, nurturing and loving your children into a happy, productive adulthood, and they will probably pay for that neglect in one way or another.
 
Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate. Psalms 127:3-5
 
Dene Ward
 
 

It’s happened twice now.  I leave my campsite loaded down with shower gear and clean clothes, only to walk into what should be a sanctuary for women only and find a couple of little boys running around—not three year olds, mind you, but boys who are well into grade school, probably 8 or 9.
            A campground bathhouse is a bit like a locker room.  Yes, there are shower stalls with curtains, but often the dressing area in those stalls becomes nearly as wet as the tiles behind the shower itself.  Sometimes you have to open the curtain so you can step out and put on your jeans without dragging them through a puddle.  On our last trip a woman came marching out of the stall in her jeans and bra, flapping her arms and exclaiming how hot it was.  What would have happened if those two little boys had been in there then?
            Even the little boys cared.  They were showering when I came in to brush my teeth late one night.  Their mother had all their clothes piled in a far corner of the room. 
            “Come on out,” she called through the shower curtain.
            “But there’s a woman out there,” the older boy said.
            “I’m sure she’s seen it before,” she hollered back, and suddenly in the mirror I saw a naked child streaking behind me.  For his sake I kept my eyes averted from the embarrassed little boy crouching behind the sinks.  If it bothers the boys, surely that’s the time to put them in the men’s bathhouse, isn’t it?
            Then I got an even bigger shock.  “I’ll be right back,” the mom told the boys.  “I have to take this to your dad.”
            Dad?  Why didn’t Dad have them in the men’s bathhouse to begin with?  No, dad was absent, as so many are these days, watching TV in the trailer by the satellite dish he had hauled along on a two night camping trip on top of a beautiful mountain.  I wonder if he ever noticed the scenery, much less his sons. 
            My boys were blessed to have a father who took his role seriously.  He didn’t leave everything to me until they got “bigger.”  He changed diapers.  He rolled around on the floor with them.  He played every ball game in season, even when they weren’t very good at it yet.  He read the Bible to them every morning while they ate breakfast, and a Bible story every night before bed, even before they were able to understand what he was reading.  Nearly every night he was the one who gave them their baths so I had time to clean up the supper dishes.  And yes, he took them into the men’s bathhouse whenever we camped, which began when Nathan was only four.
            For awhile Keith worked nights.  He would not have seen the boys except right before school and on weekends, but he got up early every morning, despite his late hours, to walk them to the bus stop.  He left them notes in the middle of the table every day, pieces of advice, Bible verses to memorize before the weekend, and always an “I love you.”  They usually ran straight for the table when the bus dropped them off, and I still have a notebook with those little yellow notes taped to the pages.  It wasn’t long before he changed jobs, taking one at far less salary because being with his boys was more important than money.
            Fathers, you have a more important calling than the one that pays your bills.  Boys need to know what it takes to be a man of God.  Girls need to see the kind of man they should look for one day.  If all you do is let mama handle things till they get a little bigger, you are missing the most precious years of their lives.  You still won’t have a relationship with your child, because you didn’t build one when the building came naturally.  They won’t trust you to really care, and no one will much blame them.
 
And you fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord, Ephesians 6:4.
 
Dene Ward

It took a while for this girl to figure out.  She was too young, too naïve, and too lost in her misty-eyed dreams of romance; but finally she learned the real definition of a beautiful love story.
            A beautiful love story is not the fairy tale rendition of two people who are perfect for each other and to each other.  It is not about a rosy life of ease with no disagreements or clashes of any kind at all.  That would be too easy.  A beautiful love story is one that defies the odds, that succeeds despite what everyone said, one that understands commitment and makes it work even when it should not have.  It's a story of two people who gradually change for the sake of the other until the corners wear off and they mesh like two pieces of a puzzle.  That love story takes real love, not fresh-faced, wide-eyed, storybook love.
            A beautiful love story is about her looking at her prince and seeing a few warts, but deciding to love him anyway.  It's about him looking at her and seeing real life etched on her tired face and once svelte body and deciding she is still the one.  It's about two people who suddenly find out that they do not have as much in common as they thought they did—and some of it really matters!—but they determine to do the best they can to get along anyway.
            A beautiful love story can only happen after two people come to know in intimate detail what their vows really meant, who have together experienced "sickness," " poorer," and "worse," to a degree they never imagined, and can now trust one another absolutely to always be there and never leave, no matter how tough it gets.
            A beautiful love story is about morning sickness, scary surgeries, bandaging bullet wounds, and digging trenches to keep your home from washing away.  It's about counting pennies and taking food off your plate for your babies.  It's about living without running water for a month, your husband driving 90 miles an hour while your child convulses in your lap, and following an ambulance to the hospital not knowing what will happen when you get there.  It's about learning how to milk cows, grow a garden, can vegetables, haul water, and blow rattlesnakes to kingdom come with a shotgun.  It's about doing all this with never a thought of "what if" or looking for the loophole in "till death do you part."
            A beautiful love story is about two children of God who understand that when they made their covenant it went three ways, not just two.  And to break that covenant breaks the one they have with the One who sustains them.  It's about making a commitment and sticking with it no matter how hard, how loud, how agonizing it might get.  And it's about a promise that stands the tests of time, pain, despair, tears, and even ugliness at times as they stand together against anyone or anything which would try to break that bond.  It's about fortitude.  It's about endurance.  It's about forgiveness and grace.  None of that comes easily, but once it has come, the love story grows more and more beautiful. 
          As of today, we have been working on our beautiful love story for fifty years.  We pray that you can make your love story just as beautiful in the years to come.
 
Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun (Eccl 9:9).
…Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate (Matt 19:5-6).
 
Dene Ward

A long time ago, a couple entrusted their two teenage daughters to us while they worked away from the area for six months.  I was 29 years old at the time, and 7 or 8 years from having teenagers of my own.  I doubt we really knew what we were getting into, but we agreed and did our best. 
            Having someone give the care of their children into your hands for more than just a couple of hours is terrifying.  I think we probably made even stricter decisions than we did with our own children when the first one hit that milestone age of 13 several years later.  This isn’t like borrowing a lawn mower, or even a luxury automobile—these were souls we were asked to look after, in some of their most important years.
            Those girls are grown now, even older than we were when they lived with us.  In spite of those six months, they turned out very well, as have their own children.  I doubt it had anything to do with us, but you had better believe that we were on our toes far more in those six months than at any other time in our lives.  Still, we made mistakes, but it wasn’t for lack of praying and considering before we did anything.
            I am sure you can understand how we felt.  Here’s the thing, as a famous fictional TV detective is wont to say:  all of us who are parents are given Someone Else’s kids to care for.  All souls are mine, God said in Ezek 18:4.  The Hebrew writer calls Him “the Father of spirits” in 12:9, the same word he uses in verse 23, “the spirits of just men made perfect.”  God is the Father of all souls, including those children of His He has entrusted to our care.  How careful should we be about raising them?
            I have seen too many parents who are more concerned with their careers, with their personal “fulfillment,” and their own agendas.  They want children because that is what you do, the thing that is expected by society, and a right they feel they must exercise, not because they want to spend the time it takes to care for them.  “I’m too busy for that,” they say of everything from nursing and potty training to teaching them Bible stories and their ABCs.  When you decide to take on the privilege of caring for one of God’s souls, you have obligated yourself to whatever time it takes to do it properly and with the care you would for the most valuable object anyone ever entrusted into your hands.
            If realizing that the souls of the children in your home are God’s doesn’t terrify you at least a little bit, you probably aren’t doing a very good job of taking care of them.
 
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… Deuteronomy 32:46-47.
 
Dene Ward

Sometimes I wish we taught classes in our churches specifically about what to look for in a mate.  I have seen too many young people looking at only the outer man to decide whether he is suitable to marry.  One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was to imagine your boyfriend as the father of your children.  Do you want them to grow up like him?  Sometimes I think young ladies get a little more desperate than young men and are willing to settle for just about anyone, as long as he has been “dunked” and sits on a church pew.  Big mistake, girls.  I am not sure I did a better job of looking for the right things, but I sure wound up with better than most, so let me tell you what makes a real man, having been married to one for 50 years now.
            A real man is not too embarrassed to worship God with all his heart and let everyone see it.  So what if he cannot sing like one of the “Three Tenors” or even the latest teen idol?  If it is obvious that his heart is in it when he sings, let him bellow all he wants!  David, a warrior-king, surely a man’s man in every sense of that phrase, wrote unabashedly emotional songs to God, prayed to him night and day, and worshipped so fervently he embarrassed his wife, 2 Sam 6:16ff.  Don’t let yourself get caught in her trap, and ultimate curse.  If your present boyfriend cannot even make himself mutter loud enough for you to hear right next to him, and makes it obvious that the assembly of the Lord’s people bores him to death, particularly if he claims to be a Christian, do you really need another reason to question staying in that relationship?  Training your children to love God is hard enough without having to fight the example of the other parent.
            A real man takes care of his family, no matter what that involves.  What is your fellow’s record at home?  Does he willingly do the chores his parents have given him, or do they have to nag?  Does he balk at particularly dirty jobs and even refuse to do them?  I do not mean complain once in awhile—that should be allowed.  But there may come times when your husband has to get out there and do things for the family which are pretty disgusting.  I can remember a time when all of the plumbing in the house was totally plugged up and my man had to go outside at ten o’clock at night, dig up the top to the septic tank, then lean down into that nasty, smelly hole with a long stick and manually unplug the drainpipes.  He never balked at changing diapers or cleaning up after a sick child.  He has even held my head while I was sick.  If your guy is too finicky for such things, he is a weakling!  Real men are strong enough to do what has to be done.  Mine has dug ditches in a driving rainstorm to keep our house from washing away, and dug a well in a cold January rain despite a 102 degree fever because we had had no running water in the house for a month and could not afford a professional.
            Third, real men are not selfish.  Does your boyfriend ever do what you want, or are you always stuck with his choices in entertainment and activities?  (On the reverse, do the two of you only do what you want?  A real man has opinions of his own and is not run by his woman.)  Does he go out of his way for you?  Does he act like a gentleman, dropping you off under the covered entry and then running through the rain himself?  …offering you his coat when you are cold?  …carrying heavy things for you?  Or does he just treat you like one of the boys and let you fend for yourself?  And most important, has he ever hit you?  Does he constantly criticize you, and ridicule you, even in front of others?  Does he order you around and act jealous every time another man even looks at you?  Does he get angry and yell, then blame his explosion on you?  Drop everything right now and leave as fast as you can.  A husband is supposed to nourish and cherish his wife, and treat her as well as he treats himself, Eph 5:25ff.  He is kind and considerate, and looks out for his wife’s best interests, whether they are in his best interests or not.  That is God’s description of a real man.
            Every marriage will have its ups and downs, dealing with hardships and sorrows along the way:  financial problems, health problems, family problems.  Look at him now.  How does he deal with mishaps?  With upsetting circumstances?  With aggravating people?  Does he whine?  Does he crack under stress?  Is he volatile, even frightening?  Can you tolerate even being around him when he is not happy or does he make everyone miserable?  Whom does he rely on?  Whom does he go to for advice and comfort?  Is it even possible to comfort him, or is he inconsolable?  It’s one thing to comfort the man you love in a crisis.  It’s another to put up with an immature, irresponsible man with no self-control, and even need protection from him because he has hit a rough spot in the road and cannot deal with it like an adult.
           A real man keeps his word.  If your boyfriend has gone back on any promises to you or anyone else, what makes you think he will honor the vow, “For better or for worse, till death do us part?”
            Last, but certainly not least, is he romantic?  If he is already your fiancé and you are not hearing, “I love you,” even once a week, you will find yourself starved for it in ten years, and even wondering if it is true any longer.  Every relationship needs the grease of affection to handle the natural frictions of living together.  I hear those three magic words no less than half a dozen times a day, sometimes limited only by the number of times he can call and still give his employer a full days’ work.  Along with love notes and wildflowers, hand-picked on the way home from work, and more hand-holding than a couple of teenagers, I have no doubt that this man would give his life for me without a moment’s thought, “as Christ also loved the church and gave himself up for it,” Eph 5:25.  Will you have that kind of assurance?
            So don’t go out there looking for a cute one, a popular one, or a rich one.  When it comes down to real life—not some fairy tale fantasy—none of that makes a difference.  In fact, if that is all you go by, you probably won’t live happily ever after.  I lucked out and got a guy who gets better looking as the years go by, but even if you don’t, you can still be like me and be happier as the days go by, instead of more and more miserable because you made a rotten choice based on shallow, fleeting values.  Be careful.  This is one of the most important decisions of your life.  Whom you marry will affect you as a Christian, and your ultimate destiny, more than any other decision you will make.
 
So the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and while he slept took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the LORD God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said, "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man." Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh. Gen 2:21-24
 
Dene Ward

Now that we have Jephthah’s vow straightened out, maybe it’s a good idea to look at his daughter.
            First, let’s realize her age.  If she was not married in that culture, she had not yet, or had barely reached the age of puberty.  The custom was to marry the daughters off once they reached that age.  John MacArthur says they were generally betrothed at 13 for one year and then married, so this girl could not have been over 14.
            Let’s take a side trip here to forestall a few wrong conclusions.  Even if puberty arrives earlier nowadays than it did in ancient times, as some scientists seem to believe, it doesn’t mean maturity does.  One is physical and the other mental.  In that time those young people were expected to be responsible enough to raise and provide for children as soon as they were able to have them.  Do we expect that of our children?
            Even as late as the 19th and early 20th centuries young men were working to help provide for the family as young as 12 or 14.  Boys brought up on farms were doing men’s work at 8 or 10.  Girls were caring for baby brothers and sisters, and working as hard as their mothers in the house and field at the same age.  No wonder they were ready to marry in their early teens, and no wonder they could make a valid commitment to God at an early age.  They weren’t pining to be a fireman one day and an astronaut the next.  They understood responsibility and lifetime commitment and were ready for it far sooner than our children are.  Maturity isn’t about knowing facts and answering questions.  Neither is spirituality.  Be careful what you equate.  Culture does make a difference.
            So this very young teenager has just found out that her life is going to be different than she ever expected because of a decision her father has made, not one she has made.  Can’t you just see the TV depiction of a teenager today?  Standing hipshot, she crosses her arms, rolls her eyes and whines, “Da-uhd!”  This isn’t fair.  This isn’t what I planned.  I had dreams and you ruined them all!  It’s my life not yours!
            Don’t think for a minute that a child has no responsibility to his parents’ vows.  As soon as a man accepts the office of an elder, his family is accepting extra scrutiny and extra inconvenience as he performs his work, and less of his time.  The same is true of a deacon though in a lesser way.  The same is certainly true of a man who gives his life to preaching the gospel.  It doesn’t lessen his own obligations to his family, but it does increase his family’s obligations to God.  It also means their behavior must be above reproach. 
            Let’s be realistic here.  No, it isn’t only elders, deacons, and preachers’ families who must behave themselves, but the ramifications are much worse since they represent the local church, and the Lord, in the eyes of the world.  The world may very well be wrong about what they expect of these men, but it is simply naïve to think it doesn’t work that way.
            Then there is this point—every Christian has vowed his life to God.  So in a very real way, every Christian family is under the microscope.  As soon as a child crosses the line, you know what everyone thinks—wasn’t he raised better than that?  As soon as his life deviates from the life a Christian should live, the world suddenly looks at his parents differently.  Even if it is not their fault, even if they have done the best they possibly could have, someone will lose respect for that couple, and certainly for the life they have espoused.  No, it isn’t always fair, but what is it we always tell our children?  Life isn’t fair.
            Every one of us is someone’s child.  If you were blessed as I was to have godly parents, they vowed you to God just as surely as Jephthah vowed his daughter.  They said, “We will raise this child to serve you all his life.”  Have you honored that vow?
 
"Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children's children-- how on the day that you stood before the LORD your God at Horeb, the LORD said to me, 'Gather the people to me, that I may let them hear my words, so that they may learn to fear me all the days that they live on the earth, and that they may teach their children so.' Deut 4:9-10
 
Dene Ward