All of a sudden I have a lot of magnifying glasses in my house:  a large “Sherlock Holmes” type, another that has a light and fastens to the side of the table, a whole magnifying page that can be laid over a book, and a small one I keep in my purse for fine print in places where I do not want to wrestle with my reading glasses.  Sometimes we are tempted to use spiritual magnifying glasses too, and not always in good ways.
           Often verses of the Bible are misinterpreted because of the use of the Middle English in the King James Version.  Even when newer, just as reputable versions come along and put the correct spin on a passage, the old interpretation sticks in the minds of those who learned it as children.  1 Thes 5:22 is one of those verses.  Abstain from all appearance of evil has come to mean that I must not do or say anything that might possibly be construed as wrong to an observer or listener.  “They might think you are __________.”  Fill in the blank with practically anything as long as it is a sin.
            Even if I did not have better translations to look at, here is my problem with that interpretation:  it directly contradicts the admonition of love in 1 Cor 13:7—love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things.  When I love someone I must look at what they have said or done and put the best possible construction on it, not the worst, or my love is a hypocritical love in word only, not in deed.  If there is a good way to take what they said, I should take it that way.  If there is a plausible excuse for a slight, I should automatically supply it.  I am not to take out my magnifying glass and search and search until aha!  I have found something I can misconstrue.
           Some of the things Jesus did looked awfully wrong to some of the people who saw them!  Remember all those times he healed on the Sabbath?  Even if he could prove the Old Law said nothing about that, the Pharisees could have correctly said, “But what does it look like?”  In fact, one of the rulers told the people, “You can come to be healed six other days in the week.  Why come on the Sabbath?” Luke 13:14.  He had a point, didn’t he?  Why not choose a time when no one would be able to question Jesus’ honoring of the Sabbath?  I can hear some of my brethren making that point exactly, totally ignoring the plight of this “daughter of Abraham,” 13:16.  Don’t you think Jesus described her that way on purpose?  To that ruler she was less important than his traditions, but Jesus made sure he saw her importance in the eyes of God.
          In Luke 11 Jesus was invited to a Pharisee’s home for dinner and ignored the ritual hand washing before the meal.  Since it was a ritual offered by every [Pharisee] host, there was no way he could have done it quietly—he openly refused to do it.  In Matt 12 he allowed his disciples to pluck grain on the Sabbath.  In Luke 7 he allowed a sinful woman to touch him.  In Luke 15 the Pharisees and scribes murmured, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”  And think about this:  God even allowed him to be born only 6 months after his parents married.  Imagine what that looked like.  Imagine what people could have said—in fact what they did say—“We were not born of fornication (John 8:41).”
            What 1 Thes 5:22 really means, according to the American Standard Version, is abstain from every form of evil [every shape it takes].  Wherever, whenever, and however evil raises its ugly head, I am to stay away from it.
            I need to be very careful.  If I am using my magnifying glass just to find faults in you because of the way I think something might look, I need to throw it away.
 
Speak not one against another, brethren.  He that speaks against a brother or judges his brother speaks against the law; but if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law, but a judge.  One is the lawgiver and judge, he who is able to save and destroy, but who are you who judges your brother? James 4:11
 
Dene Ward

When I was 14 a new young doctor came to town, one who was not afraid to “think outside the box.”  My older doctor turned me over to him and he decided to try contact lenses on me.  I had been wearing coke bottle glasses since I was 4 and my vision declined steadily year after year with the bottoms of the coke bottles getting thicker and thicker.
            In those days, hard, nonporous contact lenses were all they had.  Usually they were the size of fish scales.  Mine were not any broader in circumference but they were still as thick as miniature coke bottle bottoms and nearly as heavy on my eyes.  Most people who wore normal lenses could only tolerate them for six to eight hours.  Now add a cornea shaped like the end of a football, a corrugated football at that, and these things were not meant to be comfortable on my eyes, certainly not for the 16-18 hours a day I had to wear them.
            So why did I do it?  My prescription was +17.25.  The doctor told me there was no number on the chart for my vision.  (“Chart?  What chart?  I don’t see any chart.”)  He said if there were, it would be something like 20/10,000, a hyperbole I am sure, but it certainly made the point.  Hard contacts were my only hope.  If they could stabilize my eyesight, I would last a bit longer.  When I was 20, another doctor told me I would certainly have been totally blind by then if not for those contact lenses.
            Then soft contact lenses were invented and their popularity grew.  But they were not for me.  They would not have stabilized my vision.  I lost count of the number of times people who wore soft lenses said to me, “I tried those hard ones, but I just could not tolerate them.  You are so lucky you can wear them.”
            Luck had nothing to do with it.  My young doctor was smart.  He sat me down and said, “The only way you will be able to do this with these eyes is to really want to.  You must make up your mind that you will do it no matter what.”  That was quite a burden to place on a fourteen year old, but his tactics worked.  Despite the discomfort, I managed, and managed so well that most people never knew how uncomfortable I was.  Finally, when what seemed like the 1000th person told me they just could not tolerate hard lenses, I said, “You didn’t need them badly enough.”  Most of us can do much more than we ever thought possible when we really have to.
            Need is a strong motivation.  A couple of thousand years ago, it motivated a woman to go where she was not expected, normally not even allowed, and certainly not wanted. 
            Simon the Pharisee decided to have Jesus for dinner.  I read that it was the custom of the day for the leading Pharisee in the town to have the distinguished rabbi over for a meal when he sojourned there.  While the man would invite his friends to eat the meal, an open door policy made it possible for any interested party to come in and stand along the wall to listen--any interested man, that is.  Of course, it was assumed that only righteous men would be interested.
            In walked a “sinful” woman.  Luke, in chapter 7, uses a word that does not in itself imply any specific sin, but it was commonly used by that society to refer to what they considered the lowest of sinners, publicans and harlots.  The mere fact that she was a woman also caused someone in the crowd to exclaim, “Look!  A woman!” in what we assume was horrified shock.
            The men were all lying around a low table with their bodies resting on a couch and their feet turned away from the table in the direction of the wall, while their left elbows rested on the table.  The woman came into the room, walked around the wall, and began crying over Jesus’ feet.  Immediately, she knelt to wipe his feet with her hair.  I am told that this too was unacceptable.  “To unbind and loosen the hair in public before strangers was considered disgraceful and indecent for a woman,” commentator Lenski says.  We later discover that these were dirty, dusty feet from walking unpaved roads in sandals.  How do we know?  Because Simon did not even offer Jesus the customary hospitable foot washing. 
            Then she took an alabaster cruse of ointment, a costly gift, and anointed his feet—not just a token drop or two, but the entire contents--once the cruse was broken open, it was useless as a storage container.
            What did Simon do?  Nothing outward, but Jesus knew what he thought, and told him a story. 
            One man owed a lender 500 shillings, and another owed him 50.  Both were forgiven their debts when they could not pay.  Who, Jesus asked him, do you think was the most grateful?  The one who owed the most, of course, Simon easily answered.
            And so by using his own prejudices against him, Jesus proved that Simon himself was less grateful to God than this sinful woman.  His own actions, or lack thereof toward Jesus was the proof.  This man, like so many others of his party, was completely satisfied with himself and where he stood before God.  And that satisfaction blinded him to his own need, for truly no one can stand before God in his own righteousness.  His gratitude suffered because he did not feel his need.  Would he have gone into a hostile environment and lowered himself to do the most menial work a servant could do, and that in front of others?  Hardly.
            So how much do I think I need the grace of God?  The answer is the same one to how far I will go to get it, how much I will sacrifice to receive it, and how much pain I will put up with for even the smallest amount to touch my life.  Am I a self-satisfied Simon the Pharisee, more concerned with respectability than with his own need for forgiveness, or a sinful woman, who probably took the deepest breath of her life and walked into a room full of hostile men because she knew it was her only chance at Life? 
 
And turning to the woman, he said unto Simon, See this woman? I entered into your house; you gave me no water for my feet: but she has wet my feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss: but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss my feet.  My head with oil you did not anoint: but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  So I say unto you, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  And he said unto her, Your sins are forgiven… Your faith has saved you; go in peace, Luke 7:44-48,50.
 
Dene Ward
 

After one of my several eye surgeries, I was actually examined one day by two veterinarians.  Remember, I am one of the prime teaching tools at the University of Florida Medical School.  These young Dr Doolittle’s were doing research in pain.  Their patients cannot tell them how they feel, so they were visiting human post-op cases to ask how they felt after various types of surgery.  It was the only way to know how the animals were feeling.
            My doctor took them to three different patients, an easy case, a moderate case, and then me—the extreme.  I answered their questions with accompanying explanations by my physician, shook their hands, and on they went.  Maybe some child’s pet bunny rabbit will have an easier time of it because of a ten minute delay in my own case—and putting up with a few jokes afterward.
            Isn’t that what Jesus did for us?  Well, no, not exactly.  Instead of asking a few questions, he went through the surgery himself.  How else was Deity to understand temptation, fear, pain, anguish, sorrow, desperation, or even relatively petty things like hunger, thirst, and weariness?  He did it when he counted not being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, Phil 2:6.  He did it by being tempted in all points like we are, Heb 4:15.  It was really the only way.
            And now He knows.  Now He can tell His Father in words Deity can understand what it is like to be human.   Then He can turn around and tell us how to overcome, how to persevere, how to be faithful even to the point of death, Rev 2:10.
            Don’t make His sacrifice be for nothing.
 
In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  This same was in the beginning with God.  All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.  And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth, John 1:1-3, 14.
 
Dene Ward

In case you don't really understand Irma's magnitude, from east to west, it was 650 miles wide—the Florida peninsula averages 130 miles in width.  15,000,000 people in Florida alone were without power.  25% of the homes in Key West were completely destroyed, another 65% incurred major damage.  70,000 sq miles were impacted by at least tropical storm force winds.  The highest winds recorded were 185 mph.  That speed was maintained for 37 straight hours.  Over six million Floridians were told to evacuate.  Another few million did so voluntarily.  The score calculated by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) when measuring the power of hurricanes was 66.8, compared to 11.1 for Hurricane Harvey, and we all watched the devastation from that one (statistics from "Breaking Down Irma by the Numbers" on architecturaldigest.com).
            That is what we Floridians had to look forward to as Irma approached our coasts.  In the past we have had Category 2 and 3 storms hit the coast and, by the time they reached us, diminish to Category 1 or even mere tropical storm force (which is not as "mere" as it sounds when you are in the middle of it).  This one was to hit as a 5.  Everyone told us it would still be a 3 by the time it reached us.  That is why we counted our home as lost, carefully packing what was most important to us in the car and truck and moving them as far from the trees as we could, out into the field. 
            That is also why we spent the night that Irma came through in the car.  Would the car be blown over with us in it?  Possibly.  But far better that than being crushed under a thousand pound limb falling on the house, or being injured or maimed by the flying glass and debris when the roof blew off.  So as darkness fell and the wind and rain picked up, we scampered out to the car and climbed inside. 
            The backseat was crammed with a cooler and two boxes, so lowering the seat backs for a better sleeping position was minimal.  We clasped hands and said our final "together" prayer, and then did our best to go to sleep, which amounted to me being quiet for Keith, who was being quiet for me, as both of us sat/lay there with our eyes wide open, each praying our own continuous private prayer all night long.
            We had left the porch light on for our trip out into the field.  We are used to utter darkness out here in the country, no traffic lights, street lamps, or passing headlights, so that light was intrusive, but it also gave us a small sense of security.  Imagining what was going on would have been much worse.  Finally we both drifted off out of sheer exhaustion from the days of preparation before as well as a cold we had shared that week, and when I woke again I had to use the flashlight to see my watch.  It was 2:30 and the porch light was out.
            We had no idea what was happening, where the storm was, how strong it was.  Several times in the night, the wind howled a bit more loudly and the car rocked.  What surprised me was that behind those thick clouds a full moon actually cast a soft gray light and it was no longer black as pitch as it had been earlier.  Still, we could not tell what was happening.
            After a couple of hours we drifted back off again, rocking in our metal cradle.  At seven, almost as if an alarm had gone off, we both opened our eyes to dim daylight.  We looked out the rain-dribbled windshield and saw a 35 year old manufactured home all in one piece.  No debris, no missing roof, no broken windows.  Lots of yard trash, but no monster limbs crushing anything.  Keith got out into the rain to start up the generator and I flipped on the car radio.  The storm had weakened much more quickly than expected.  If it passed over Gainesville as a Category 1, by the time it reached us, it was to the west and down to tropical storm force winds, something no one had dare predict. 
            Keith came back for me then, and we rolled up our pant legs.  The waters were running off all around us nearly six to eight inches deep as the property drained, but we stood there and hugged each other and shouted a thank you over the slackening wind and rain, tears running down our faces.  God had answered all those prayers, and if you think one thank you was all He got from us, you still don't understand hurricanes and the One who made them.  Even now, over a month later, we are still saying thank you.
            And what did we learn from that?  A question popped up in our minds.  How many times have we said thank you for the sacrifice our Lord made to save our souls in the same fashion we said thank you for his saving our physical home, and a humble one at that?  How many times have we grabbed each other in pure, unadulterated joy and wept real tears over our salvation?  Once, maybe, at our baptism; another time or two when a particular sermon or talk hit us right between the eyes.
            We've been mulling that over for several weeks now.  I hope this week has helped you consider it, too.
 
Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift. (2Cor 9:15)
 
Dene Ward

"Why have you let this happen after all I've done for you, God?"
            First let's say this and say it quickly:  In the middle of a storm, it is not wrong to ask God, "Why?"  Job asks God again and again.  Various psalmists do the same in all those psalms of lament—far more of those type of psalms than any other, including psalms of praise.  Clearly, God wanted us to know we can ask him.  What He expects is that by studying the methods of those others we can learn how to move gradually from lament (complaint) to praise, and work ourselves out of a dangerous mindset.  We would do well to study those psalms far more than we do now, camping right in the middle of them rather than clinging to Psalm 23 as if it were the be-all and end-all of the Psalms.
            But the last half of that statement is far more dangerous to our souls than the first.  "After all I've done for you?"  Really?  As if sin and good deeds is a tit for tat arrangement?  As uncomfortable as it may be, we need some serious teaching on the enormity of sin.  We need to hear from God's Word exactly how God feels about it.  O God, you take no pleasure in wickedness; you cannot tolerate the sins of the wicked (Ps 5:4).  No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who utters lies shall continue before my eyes (Ps 101:7).  And I could go on.
            And then we need some lessons on grace.  When I was a child I heard exactly one lesson on grace.  That's why I remember it.  I must have been about 11 because I remember the building I was sitting in—even which side—and we only lived there for three years.  One lesson in 20 years!  And do you know why?  Because we have fought false doctrine so long that it's as if we think grace and faith are denominational teachings.  We are scared of them.  No one can possibly say, "We are saved by faith," or "We are saved by grace," without instantly adding a qualifier.  "Yes, but—"
            And so we do not understand that nothing we do can save us.  …All our righteous deeds are as filthy garments, Isa 64:6.  O my God, incline your ear and hear. Open your eyes and see our desolations, and the city that is called by your name. For we do not present our pleas before you because of our righteousness, but because of your great mercy. O Lord, hear; O Lord, forgive… (Dan 9:18-19a).  Those Old Testament faithful understood grace better than we do!
            We think of Lady Justice on the courthouse steps with the balances in her hand, assuming that we can load up one side with good deeds and they will outweigh the sins on the other side.  What we don't understand is that one sin outweighs every other good deed we could possibly do.  But when the righteous turns away from his righteousness, and commits iniquity… shall he live? None of his righteous deeds that he has done shall be remembered: in his trespass that he has trespassed, and in his sin that he has sinned, in them shall he die (Ezek 18:24).  To put it plainly, we have no right to call God on the carpet because we are experiencing trials in our lives.  In fact, He has every right to send nothing but trials because all of us have sinned.
            But here is the truly marvelous thing:  even if one sin outweighs all our righteousness, one drop of God's mercy outweighs all our sins.  But if the wicked turn from all his sins that he hath committed, and keep all my statutes, and does that which is lawful and right, he shall surely live, he shall not die. None of his transgressions that he has committed shall be remembered against him: in his righteousness that he has done he shall live (Ezek 18:21-22).  Not because we deserve it.  Never because we deserve it.  But due to the grace and mercy of God, and the fact that we continue on in faith, despite our trials, trusting Him to keep His promises.
 
And you, son of man, say to your people, The righteousness of the righteous shall not deliver him when he transgresses, and as for the wickedness of the wicked, he shall not fall by it when he turns from his wickedness, and the righteous shall not be able to live by his righteousness when he sins (Ezek 33:12).
For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast (Eph 2:8-9).
 
Dene Ward

You know that strange commercial where the woman’s guests keep disappearing, and we discover they have all fallen into the crack of her sofa and are living down there?  Keith put his hands down the crack of the narrowest upholstered chair in the house and, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat or endless scarves out of his sleeves, he kept coming up with the oddest things—a Ghiradelli dark chocolate square wrapper, 2 unpopped popcorn kernels, 3 red hots, 2 broken rubber bands, 4 shelled but shriveled peas, a nail file, a ballpoint pen, 3 quarters, 3 dimes, 3 nickels and 5 pennies, a fifteen inch square red bandanna, a twelve by five decorator pillow, and a co-ax cable connector.  I am afraid to try the much broader backed sofa—there really might be people living down there.
            I know we have all experienced that feeling of being “lost in the cracks.” We have all had applications, letters, requests, complaints, and worst of all, payments, lost in the paper shuffle of doctor’s offices, large corporations, and government agencies.  Depending upon the issue, it could cause anything from the minor annoyance of a simple delay to the more serious problems of cut-off utilities or destroyed credit ratings.  It’s a helpless feeling, and a lonely one, to know you have done everything right and still this has happened—and no one seems to care.
            Now just imagine your reaction if you had not done everything right.  You filled out the wrong form with the wrong information, sent it to the wrong address with the wrong amount of money, and you did it all two years late.  Not only that, but everything you did wrong you did that way on purpose.  Yet a week later you receive everything you had asked for anyway with promises of more whenever you needed it.
            You would shake your head and say, “This can’t be possible,” and you would be right.
            But isn’t that exactly what we receive with God?  In spite of our best efforts to wreck our lives, to sink into the depths of sin and be lost among the myriads who are content to live there, his searching hand will find us if we just reach out and take it.  We will never be lost in the cracks.
 
And Jehovah said, Go through the midst of the city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark upon the foreheads of the men that sigh and that cry over all the abominations that are done in the midst thereof.  And to the others he said in my hearing, Go through the city after him and smite; let not your eye spare, neither have pity, and slay utterly…but come not near anyone upon whom is the mark.
The firm foundation of God stands having this seal, The Lord knows those who are his…Ezek 9:4-6; 2 Tim 2:19.
 
Dene Ward

In the past few years people have done things for me that I could not even have imagined.  They have cleaned my house, they have put up my garden produce, they have brought meals, they have taken me to the doctor over and over and over, putting about 120 miles on their cars each time.  They have shopped for me and then conveniently forgotten how much I owe them.  They have walked up to me and in the midst of a hug slipped a hundred dollar bill in my pocket to help pay for surgeries, medicines and medically necessary trips that were not covered at any percentage by insurance because they were too “experimental.”  Many, many more have told me that they get down on their knees and pray for me every day, and many of those knees are frail and aching.
            What do you say to people like that?  What can you do for people like that?  “Thank you,” seems so lame. 
            And what can we do for God and Christ?  Most of us understand that nothing will repay the debt we owe Them.  That is what grace means—you receive mercy you don’t deserve and cannot repay.  Then why do we still act like our “service” is indeed plentiful payment for our salvation?  Why do we question our trials as if God is letting us down “after all we’ve done?”
            Just think for a moment about the absurdity of this:  God had the power to create the complexities of this vast universe; Christ is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in Him were all things created, in the heavens and upon the earth, things visible and things invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers; all things have been created through Him, and unto Him; and He is before all things, and in Him all things consist, Col 1:15-17; and so, dear Father and Jesus, because of all that, I will try real hard not to sin today.  That is my idea of service?
            God deserves all of me, not just a few little commandments I try to keep.  He deserves my service everyday, not just on Sundays.  He deserves my heart, not just my outward posture.  When I give myself to God there should be nothing leftover for me or anyone else.
            And He deserves this even when things in my life are not particularly good.  God is the Creator, He is the Almighty, He is the Ruler of the Universe.  That is why He deserves my service, not because He has been good to me.  We truly do not stand in awe of God if we think otherwise.    
            Today, think about the power of God and what it should mean in your service to Him.
 
Ascribe to the LORD, O heavenly beings, ascribe to the LORD glory and strength.  Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name; worship the LORD in the splendor of holiness. The voice of the LORD is over the waters; the God of glory thunders… over many waters.  The voice of the LORD is powerful; the voice of the LORD is full of majesty. The voice of the LORD breaks the cedars; the LORD breaks the cedars of Lebanon.  The voice of the LORD flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the LORD shakes the wilderness. The voice of the LORD makes the deer give birth  and strips the forests bare, and in his temple all cry,  "Glory!" The LORD sits enthroned over the flood; the LORD sits enthroned as king forever. Selected verses from Psalm 29.
 
Dene Ward

Four letters, “weight allowance.”  I have seen it in crossword puzzles so many times that I automatically write in “tret,” even though I have no idea what it is talking about.  Finally I looked it up.  Tret is (or was?) the weight allowance given to buyers of certain commodities, usually four pounds per hundred, to make up for deterioration during transit and impurities like sand and dust.  So if they order one hundred pounds, they actually receive one hundred and four, the idea being that they will have at least one hundred pounds of product in that one hundred and four pounds. 
            That made me think about grace.  God supplies what we lack in perfection because of our sin.  Only the ratio is backwards—I am sure He allows at least one hundred pounds of grace for every four pounds of our faith and obedience, probably far more.
            We also make such allowances for each other.  When we know someone has been through a rough time, it is easier to take their snappy comment with equanimity.  When we love as we ought, our love covers a multitude of sins, 1 Pet 4:8. 
            However, the need to make allowances for things like that should eventually disappear as we all grow to maturity in Christ.  Shouldn’t a man who has been a Christian forty years no longer be watching and waiting for the Bible class teacher or preacher to make a comment he can raise a fuss about?  Yet how many times have I heard young preachers told, “It’s just old brother So-and-So.  That’s just the way he is.”  Why is he still that way?  Hasn’t anyone told him how much he hurts people with that behavior?  I wonder how many young preachers were expected to make so many allowances for so many things that they just gave up preaching.  Why doesn’t anyone make allowances for them?
            Is old sister So-and-So still managing to take offense at everything anyone says and jumping on them with both feet?  Hasn’t anyone told her that she is wrong to treat people that way?  Oh yes, I know what they will hear back, but we are not doing her any favors to let her keep on this way.  The Lord certainly won’t make allowances for it.
            But the larger question for me is this:  are people continually making allowances, “tret,” for me?  Am I the one causing consternation, making people walk on eggshells around me, and stealing everyone’s pleasure with my bad attitude?  God’s grace works for people who are trying their best to do right and still fail, not for those who make a career out of bitterness, criticism, and cynicism and expect everyone, including God, to just accept it..  My “tret” should become smaller and smaller as I mature as a Christian, leaving infancy behind and becoming full-grown. 
            Where do I stand today?  A 50 year old baby is no longer cute, and to take the grace of God for granted in such a way must surely be an abomination to Him.
 
For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a fearful expectation of judgment, and a fury of fire that will consume the adversaries.  Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses. How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has spurned the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace?  Heb 10:26-29.
 
Dene Ward

Otto Wichterle was born on October 27, 1913 in Prostejov, Moravia.  Because he did not want to work at his father's machinery factory, he went on to study chemistry and became interested in plastics.  He was jailed for a while by the Gestapo, but eventually released and became a professor and textbook author at the Czech Technical University.  Over the years he made many discoveries and in December 1961 created the first soft contact lens with a child's erector set and a phonograph motor.  Sounds a little like MacGyver to me.  Leonardo da Vinci, who had first imagined contact lenses, would have been proud.
            Not quite that far back a young doctor decided to try contact lenses on my nanophthalmic (one 15 and the other 16 mm), hyperopic/aphakic (scrip +17.25), steep-cornea-ed, corrugated, football-shaped eyeballs.  Everyone told him he was crazy, that it was impossible.  Somehow, amid all the discouraging words, he managed to make it work.  For the first time in my life I could see more than the fish-eyed tunnel in front of me. 
            These were the original hard contact lenses.  He had sat me down and told me that the only way I could possibly wear them in my “special” eyes was to want to wear them.  I did not realize till much later how wise he had been.  They were incredibly uncomfortable, especially on my deformed eyeballs, but I saw so much more that I knew I would never give them up, regardless the pain.
            Seven years later rigid gas-permeable lenses became available through overseas channels.  They were a tiny bit more comfortable, but more important, they kept my eyes healthier.  I wore those for thirty-five years.  Finally a type of soft lens has been developed that I can actually wear with no ill-effects.  Not only that, but they cause no strange visual effects either—no starbursts, no fish-eyes, no distortions at all.  It seems ironic that they have come now when my vision is failing, but I am not complaining.
            I have had to learn different methods of insertion, removal, and overnight care.  This thing is so much more comfortable that sometimes I am not certain it is in.  The many surgeries I have had have changed me from hyperopic to myopic, and my vision, even with the lens, is far from perfect.  That is why I did not realize for about an hour that I did not have the lens in my eye the other morning. 
            At first, when the usual blur did not clear up right away, I thought it was just one of those days when I was not going to see well.  They happen often enough.  Finally I put my finger to my eyeball and touched only eyeball—I knew the lens had not made it into my eye.  So where was it?
            I ran back to the bathroom, got on my hands and knees and felt across the floor from the door to the vanity cabinet, the only way I could possibly find it down there.  No lens.  At least I knew I wasn’t going to step on it.  So I stood up and I felt across the entire vanity countertop.  No lens. 
            Finally I took the hand towel off the rack.  I always open the lens case over a towel because of the fluid in it.  I felt one side of the towel and then turned it over.  Still no lens, but when I picked up the towel again, there was the lens under it, finally having fallen off the towel with a tiny little “clink.” It was as solid as one of my old hard lenses.  That nice soft lens material had dried up even in the humid bathroom air.
            I soaked it in saline a couple of hours and it came back to life.  Finally I could see again, at least as well as I ever do these days.
            I came across a passage the other day. The light of the wicked shall be put out, and the spark of his fire shall not shine. His strength shall be hunger-bitten, and calamity shall be ready at his side. His roots shall be dried up beneath, and above shall his branch be cut off. His remembrance shall perish from the earth, and he shall have no name in the street, Job 18:5, 12, 18, and 19.
            Trying to live your life without Christ will dry you up.  I do not understand how people who do not have the hope He offers can handle life’s problems, and especially how they can handle dying.  They have nothing to live for, and certainly nothing to die for.
            We have said it over and over.  The grace of God not only gives you salvation, it helps you overcome temptation, bear tragedies, and face death.  If I turn into a dried up, bitter old woman, it is because somewhere along the line I refused to make use of that grace. 
            I wince, thinking about the pain I would have felt if I had tried to put that desiccated contact lens into my eye.  We sometimes go about with pain that we needn’t bear.  A good long soak in the grace and goodness of God makes it possible to live this life to the fullest and look forward to the one to come.
 
Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. He that believes on me, as the scripture has said, from within him shall flow rivers of living water, John 7:37,38.
 
Dene Ward
 

We often go out for breakfast every second or third month, usually after an early doctor appointment, one that also includes fasting labs.  By then, we are hungry enough to really enjoy it.  We have four favorite places to go and alternate as the mood strikes.  One is standard diner fare, but a diner with a lot of variety and imagination.  One is a little more upscale, including things like shrimp and grits and Eggs Benedict.  One is a simple café attached to a bakery, but they make their own bread, muffins, and bagels.  It is the only place I will ask for "wheat toast" instead of a biscuit because the bread is so good.  The fourth is a bit whimsical.  Every kind of French toast, every kind of waffle or pancake, all with toppings someone made up at midnight and possibly under the influence.   Caramel Turtle Waffles.  Bananas Foster Pancakes.  Raspberry Cream Cheese French Toast.  That sort of thing.
            So after a long hiatus from it, we went to that fourth restaurant one morning, fresh from the lab.  Our waitress was young and pretty and friendly beyond "greet the customers with a smile" friendly.  When she brought a refill on the coffee almost impossibly soon (yet we were ready for it) I said something on the order of, "Your parents must like coffee like we do."
            "Not so much," she said.  "I'm a single mom, putting myself through school.  I am the one who drinks so much coffee.  I need it!"  She said all this with a big friendly smile, poured our second cup and was on her way to her next table.
            It impressed Keith that she was not bemoaning her state, or griping about it.  It simply was her life and she did not let it ruin her day or affect her customers at all.  She maintained a good mood despite what must have been a weary mind and body.  So near the end of our meal, after she had filled us up at least five times, he handed her a $20 bill wrapped around one of my blog cards.  "I am going to put a tip on the bill like I always do, but this is for a single mom who is doing her best for her family." 
          She was stunned.  "But you don't have to do that," she managed to stammer.
          "I know," he said.  "But you aren't complaining or griping about things, just accepting life with a good attitude, and it made me want to help."  Her eyes filled, but she managed to say, "Thank you so much," before she left.  When we finally finished our meal, with her tip written in on the credit card slip, we left and she gave us a wave as she was waiting on another table, mouthing, "Thank you again."
          That, my dear readers, is grace.  Though she did an excellent job for us, but she did not earn a 100% tip, which is just about what that twenty and her regular tip added up to. 
          God gives us grace, too—not because we earn it.  That undoes the very meaning of the word.  We did not deserve it.  We were not perfect.  For by grace have you been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not of works, that no man should glory (Eph 2:8-9).  None of our righteous deeds mean that God now owes us.  For all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God; being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus (Rom 3:23-24).
          Sometimes I hear people who are facing a trial say things like, "How can God let this happen after all I've done?"  That person has not yet learned the lesson of grace.  While it is true that the one who has been saved will show his gratitude by doing everything within his power to obey and serve God, he still has not, and never will, earn his salvation.  None of us will.  God owes us nothing.  Anything good in your life is His grace.  Maybe this little waitress will help teach us what that means.
 
But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life (Titus 3:4-7).
 
Dene Ward