Baseball in America was first played as an official game in 1846, but uniforms were not worn by the teams until the New York Knickerbockers did so on April 4, 1849.  It took fifty more years for all Major League baseball players to wear official team uniforms.  Today nearly all sports players wear official team apparel.
              Uniforms have several purposes.  First, it helps to be able to identify at a glance who your teammates are.  If the quarterback threw to the wrong receiver, or the point guard passed to the wrong center, chaos would ensue.
              Second, everyone wearing the same colors helps develop unity, and motivates the players to do their best for one another.  It also fosters a sense of equality.  Everyone wears the uniform, not just the star players.
              For a couple of years now I have seen some college football teams wearing odd uniforms splotched with camouflage here and there, and with “names” like Honor, Courage, Integrity, Commitment, Service, and Duty sewn on the back where ordinarily the player’s name would have been.  I have discovered that this is a joint effort with the Wounded Warriors Project, a nonprofit organization supplying programs and services to injured servicemen and their families.  After the game, the uniforms are auctioned off and 100% of the proceeds go to the project.
              What a worthy endeavor, yet wearing those uniforms has caused some amusement among sportscasters.  At least twice I have seen “Integrity” commit a personal foul, and don’t believe for a minute that the announcers ignored all the possible jokes they could make about it.
              That made me wonder what would happen if Christians wore uniforms.  As much as I hate the way we take those lists we find in the New Testament (fruit of the Spirit, Christian “graces,” etc.) ignoring them as a comprehensive unit, and using them instead like individual casseroles on a buffet line from which we can pick and choose, what if one of those traits were printed on the backs of our jerseys?  Would people find our actions so amusing?  If “self-control” became angry and threw something across the room, if “mercy” gave as good (or as bad?) as he got, if “kindness” snarled at someone in his way, how would that effect the way others view the faith we so casually claim?
              Wait a minute!  This might actually be good for us.  If each one of us had the trait we have the most difficulty with posted on our backs, maybe we would be aware every minute of the day and actually behave a little better.  For you see, that is the problem with most of us.  We go through our lives without thinking; we just react, and that is when the “automatic” happens instead of the new characteristic we are supposed to be developing.  If we wore that jersey every day for a month, don’t you suppose “automatic” would become the right thing instead of the wrong thing?
              So today, think what needs to be written on your back—not the thing you find easiest, but the thing you find the hardest to do, and pretend it is there every minute of the day.  You see, your friends and neighbors are not ignorant of the personality a Christian is supposed to exhibit, and they know where you fall short.  They see that very word on your back every moment and it is what they use as an excuse when you try to recruit them.  Why would they want to be on a team where Integrity cheats on his taxes, where Commitment ogles the women in the office, and where Service never did a thing for anyone if it didn’t offer him a good return?
              Put on your uniform every day.  Remember what is written on your back, and do your best to live up to it.
 
Do all things without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, Phil 2:14,15.
 
Dene Ward

In the late 1800s a small settlement in New Mexico began with the John Cross Ranch over Geronimo Springs.  The place became known for its hot springs and was incorporated under that name in 1916.  By the late 1930s it boasted forty hot springs spas.  At the time there were about 3000 residents.  Evidently those residents were not satisfied with the growth of the town and they took an unusual step.
              Beginning in 1940, Ralph Edwards began hosting a radio show called "Truth or Consequences."  The show was so popular it ran on the radio for many years before becoming a television show that lasted until 1988, with hosts the likes of Edwards, Jack Bailey, and Bob Barker.  Edwards ran a contest stating that he would air the show on its tenth anniversary at the town which was the first to change its name to "Truth or Consequences."   On March 31, 1950, Hot Springs, New Mexico, changed its name to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, and the next evening the show was broadcast from there.
              Edwards continued to visit the town the first weekend in May for the next 50 years.  The town still holds a "Fiesta" every year in Ralph Edwards Park to continue the celebration.
               That may all be a quaint and amusing historical fact, but let's make it a bit more serious this morning.  What does it take for me to finally wake up and repent, or just examine myself for faults that need correcting, and then get to work fixing them?
              Raising children and now, interacting with our grandchildren, reminds us of a basic truth of childrearing—reward or punishment (consequences) must immediately follow the deed.  A child’s attention span is short, and the younger he is, the more important the timing.  Even a child younger than one can quickly learn what “No-no” means when it is accompanied by consistent motivation—by consequences for his action. 
              But are we any better?  Peter tells us that when God delays judgment for sin out of longsuffering and patience but we don’t respond, that we “willfully forget” (2 Pet 3:5-10).  Paul says that when God forbears yet we do not repent, we are “despising his goodness” (Rom 2:4).  It isn’t that we have the attention span of a toddler—we’re just plain stubborn.
              Is that any more mature than a toddler?  We have all seen children who understand the consequences and take them anyway.  We cluck at their lack of common sense, their apparent unwillingness to learn any way but the hard way.  We wonder what sort of adults they will become.
              But you really don’t have to wonder.  You are surrounded by them.  Or, are you one of them, too?
 
Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil. Ecclesiastes 8:11.
 
Dene Ward
 

Robert Frost, one of the greatest American poets, was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco.  After his father died of tuberculosis, 11 year old Frost moved with his mother and younger sister to Lawrence, Massachusetts.  He spent many years teaching and living in Massachusetts and Vermont, dying in Boston on January 29, 1963.
              Frosts' most famous poems include "The Mending Wall," "Nothing Gold Can Stay," "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," and the one I want to focus on today, "The Road Not Taken."
 
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
 
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
 
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
 
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
 
              Forks in the road--life is full of them.  As a Christian, you will likely take the one Frost recommended—the one less traveled by--and yes, it will make all the difference in your life.  What choices exactly are we talking about?
              Where will you go to school?
              Will you marry and if so, then whom?
              What career will you choose?  Or will you decide to be a stay-at-home mom and then a servant of the church after your children have grown and left the nest?
              Where will you live?
              Will you take this promotion?
              With which congregation of God's people will you choose to serve?
              In what ways will you serve?
              By the time they reach my age, most people believe the forks are all behind them.  All that remains is the final leg of the journey, one about which we may have very little choice, especially due to health.
              They couldn't be more wrong.  There remains one huge choice we must make:  how will we allow the past circumstances of life to affect us?
              I've seen older people become bitter and unsympathetic because of the "raw deal" they believe they were handed.  But I've seen others with just as trying ordeals radiate a quiet, compassionate wisdom.  One permeates the air with the fetid reek of selfishness while the other offers comfort and encouragement.  They may have both suffered great losses and disappointments—of such is life—but only one has "the mind of the spirit," recognizing that this life is not the be-all and end-all, that the first moment of Eternity will make it seem as nothing.  And that final fork in the road will be her choice to continue serving God by leading others to the same fork, rather than driving them away with spiteful comments, cynicism, and complaints.
              This fork may be your last chance.  Even if you chose poorly all along the way, you can use your failures to help others avoid them.  One right choice at the end can still make your life useFUL instead of useLESS.
 
Again, though I say to the wicked, ‘You shall surely die,’ yet if he turns from his sin and does what is just and right, if the wicked restores the pledge, gives back what he has taken by robbery, and walks in the statutes of life, not doing injustice, he shall surely live; he shall not die. None of the sins that he has committed shall be remembered against him. He has done what is just and right; he shall surely live. (Ezek 33:14-16)                                                           
 
Dene Ward

HMS Invincible set sail on March 16, 1801 with 590 men, and ordnance, ammunition, and supplies for the Baltic Fleet and Admiral Nelson as they prepared for the Battle of Copenhagen.  For Captain John Rennie this was his first command, and he was accompanied by Rear Admiral Thomas Totty.  The Norfolk coast was always known as dangerous, mainly because of the Haisbro Sand, located 9 miles off the coast at Happisburgh, and the North Sea itself notorious as a treacherous body of water.  True to its reputation, a strong tide threw the ship off course and about 2:30 pm she struck a shoal just east of the Haisbro Sand. 
              The crew worked all night trying to save the ship.  The masts were struck and pumps were worked manually.  A fishing boat named Nancy came to help.  Admiral Totty boarded her with a few crew members, evidently the youngest, but at daybreak on March 17, the Invincible sank.  A few were picked up in the lifeboats, but out of 590, 400 died in the sea, including Captain Rennie.  For days the bodies washed up on shore.  They were picked up by the wagonload and buried in a mass grave next to the local church.
              Long ago, the ancient Christian church was symbolized by a boat, a refuge for Christians from the storms of life, even though that actual metaphor is nowhere to be found.  Still, it makes a valid point.  Where should we go but to the Lord and our brethren when the storm strikes, and who should we expect help from but the Lord by means of his spiritual body?  You can also make some excellent points on the fact that the symbol was a working boat, where a crew worked together as a team, each doing his own part, not a cruise ship where the passengers come to be fed, served, and entertained!
              The scriptures themselves use that metaphor rarely.  Even the text you might think of among the first, to make the captain of their salvation perfect through suffering, Heb 2:10, is not about a ship's captain as later translations make apparent.  The word simply means "leader," one blazing the way, according to Vine's and Robertson's Word Pictures.
              But the metaphor is there if you look for it.  Here is an obvious one:  We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, (Heb 6:19). 
              But others are simply allusions, and these allusions are apt to our historical entry for the day—shipwreck.  …until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. (Eph 4:13-14)
              "Tossed to and fro" means to be agitated.  "Carried about" means to be whirled as if not anchored.  When we are immature in our faith, when we have not worked to grow and become spiritually strong, we are ripe for the picking by the Devil.  Any stress in our lives can wreck our ship.
              But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. (Jas 1:6)  In this verse it is the water itself that is tossed, but it only takes a moment to extrapolate what that sort of water would do to a boat.  When our faith is not solid, when it wavers with doubt, our ship is likely to sink.
              And that leads us to the most obvious one:  This charge I entrust to you, Timothy, my child, in accordance with the prophecies previously made about you, that by them you may wage the good warfare, holding faith and a good conscience. By rejecting this, some have made shipwreck of their faith, (1Tim 1:18-19).  That is not just a nautical fender-bender.  The word there, according to Robertson means to break a ship to pieces.  When you throw overboard your fidelity to the cause and your conscience, the whole thing is bashed to smithereens on the rocks, the shoals, and the waves.  You are done for.  If it makes us think just for a second before we give in to even one little temptation, maybe we can avoid the crash and keep our souls intact.
              This world is just like the Haisbro Sand and the North Sea—treacherous.  Don't be one of those poor drowned souls stacked in a wagon and tossed into a mass grave.  Use your anchor, grow your faith, and keep your conscience pure.
 
Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. (Heb 10:23)
 
Dene Ward

Medicine has come a long way since ancient times and it hasn’t stopped progressing.  As a patient who has a rare disease, I have had my share of experimental surgeries and procedures, and endured experimental medicines and equipment.  Sometimes it’s just plain scary, but when it works, it’s amazing.  I can still see, several years after I was expected to lose my vision.  It may not be great vision, and the after effects of all these procedures and medications may not be pleasant, but let me tell you, any vision is better than no vision, and you will put up with a lot to have it.
            Blood is one area where knowledge is still blossoming.  But just think of this.  Transfusions were not common until the turn of the twentieth century, and even then it had to be a live donor for an immediate transfusion.  It went on that way for nearly four decades.  Finally, Dr Bernard Fantus at the Cook County Hospital in Chicago performed several experiments and determined that human blood, under refrigeration, could last up to ten days.  Still not long, but enough for him to start the first blood bank on March 15, 1937.  Imagine the lives that were suddenly saved.  It must have seemed like a miracle.
            Medicine has progressed even further.  My little bit of research tells me that at 1-6 degrees Centigrade, blood can now be kept up to 42 days, and that some of it can be frozen for up to ten years.  I wonder if Dr Fantus had any idea what he had put into motion.
            But sooner or later that blood does become stale.  It is no longer usable to save lives.  And if there is a sudden loss of power that cannot be maintained with a generator or other power source, all of it will spoil almost immediately. 
            Imagine a blood that never loses its potency, that never becomes stale, that will always save. 
            For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf. Nor was it to offer himself repeatedly, as the high priest enters the holy places every year with blood not his own, for then he would have had to suffer repeatedly since the foundation of the world. But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself, Heb 9:24-26.
            Jesus does not have to offer himself “repeatedly.”  He does not have to keep a fresh supply of blood handy.  The saving power of his blood lasts forever.  And what exactly does it do?
            It makes propitiation, Rom 3:23.
            It justifies, Rom 5:9.
            It brings us “near,” Eph 2:13.
            It purifies our consciences and makes us able to serve God, Heb 9:14. 
            It forgives, Heb 9:23.
            It cleanses us from sin, 1 John 1:7.
            Now understand this—it isn’t the fact that Jesus cut his finger one day and bled a little.  Blood in the Bible has always represented a death.  The blood that saves us is the death he willingly died on our behalf, because only a sacrificial death can atone for sin (Lev 17:11).  And we don’t have to worry about “types” and “factors.”  His blood will cleanse us from “all sin,” 1 John 1:7.
            Nowadays people want nothing to do with another person’s blood.  Everyone wears gloves.  But to gain the benefits of Christ’s blood you have to “touch” it.  How do you contact that blood?  You simply “die” with Christ.  Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life, Rom 6:3,4. 
            And that blood bank still works for us.  It keeps right on forgiving as needed, as we repent and continue to walk in him for the rest of our lives.         
            Only once--that’s all he had to suffer.  Our trips to the blood bank will likely be more than once, but may they become less and less often as we grow in grace and faith and love.  It will be there when we need it, but let’s not squander a precious gift, nor take it for granted. 
 
And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him, Heb 9:27,28.
 
Dene Ward        

Stock markets began after the discovery of the New World, when countries began trading with each other.  In order to expand their businesses, the owners needed to call in investors so that they had a larger amount of money to use for growth.  These investors were given "shares" of the company.  The first company to issue paper shares was the Dutch East India Co in 1602.
              The practice grew and eventually reached England.  In 1773 in a London coffeehouse, a group of stock traders met and changed their name to the "stock exchange," and thus the London Stock Exchange was born.  This spread to the American colonies and the first American stock exchange began in Philadelphia.
              Today, Wall Street is synonymous with the stock exchange.  On May 17, 1792, the market on Wall Street opened with 24 supply brokers.  On March 8, 1817, they changed the name to the New York Stock and Exchange Board and the NYSE we know today began. 
              One of the rules of success in the stock market is patience.  Quick returns are great, but also dangerous.  If you want a stable investment, you plan for the long haul.  Most people with stock portfolios have a good mix of the risky and the safe.  If you want a consistent income, you go with the safe and plan to wait awhile.
              This blog is a long term investment.  It debuted August 2, 2012.  But even before that, I began writing devotionals that I sent to a small email list three times a week.  That first list contained 32 names.  Many times I have thought about quitting, especially when I looked at a blank screen and could not think of a thing to write, but knew I had to if this thing is going to stay alive.  “Why?” I think, especially since I rarely get feedback and sometimes wonder if anyone else cares whether I bruise my brain for a couple dozen hours a week anyway.
              My average pageview day runs 300-400, with an occasional spike of 2000+.  I have now passed over a million pageviews total.  But look back where I started—32 names.  It has taken many years of hard work, truly a long term investment.  I would never have made it this far if I had given up.
              Life is made up of long term investments.  Education, marriage, children, career, mortgages, as well as stock portfolios, and many other things take years to show any profit, any growth, any benefit.  In spite of our instant gratification society, most of us know this about life:  some things are worth the time and trouble and the long, long wait, and many of us manage to avoid quitting.
              Why do we forget that in our spiritual lives?  We become Christians and expect overnight that our problems will disappear, that our temptations will cease, and that our faith will move mountains.  Then reality sets in and instead of working on it, we give up.  We go to an older, knowledgeable Christian and ask for help in learning to study, but after two or maybe three weeks of making the time to meet and finding the time to do the studies he assigns, we quit.  It’s too tedious and we are too busy.  We thought there was some get-wise-quick formula.  It’s just the Bible after all, not rocket science.
              It’s perfectly normal to have bouts of discouragement.  David did:  How long O Lord?  Will you forget me forever?  Psalm 13:1.  Asaph did:  All in vain have I kept my heart clean and washed my hands in innocence.  73:13. I’ve tried and tried and gotten nothing for it!  Why bother?  And then they remind us to look ahead, because it is a long term problem with a long term solution.  In just a little while the wicked will be no more…you guide me with your counsel and afterward you will receive me into glory.  Psalm 37:10; 73:24.  Sometimes the wait seems long, especially when we are suffering, but faith will be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him 37:7.
              And if you are floundering a little, wondering perhaps if you will ever make it, if your faith will ever be strong, if you will ever be able to overcome temptation on a regular basis, give yourself a break.  This doesn’t happen overnight.  Are you better than you were last year?  Did you overcome TODAY?  That’s progress.  Keep working at it.  No one expects to lose 100 pounds in a week.  Some of us have way more than that to lose spiritually. 
              The reward is worth the waiting.  It is worth the struggle.  It is even worth the tedium of learning those difficult names and the exercise involved in buffeting our bodies.  But you won’t get there if you give up, if you say, “This is boring,” or “I’m too busy,” or “I can’t do it.” 
              I have many new friends because of something I started a long time ago during a difficult time of life.  I cannot imagine being without them now.  I certainly don’t want to be without the Lord.
 
For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised, Heb 10:36.
 
Dene Ward
 

You’d think they would learn.  You’d think they would figure this out, especially people who are so smart, with so many letters after their names they could start a new language.  Yet for a long time the existence of the Biblical Ur of the Chaldees, Abraham and Sarah’s hometown, was denied.  Several excavations were begun in the early twentieth century, but Sir Charles Leonard Woolley, a British archaeologist, finally put the question to rest.  From The Bible As History by Werner Keller: “Under the red slopes of Tell al Muqayyar lay a whole city…awakened from its long sleep after many thousand years…Woolley and his companions were beside themselves with joy…for before them lay the Ur of the Chaldees to which the Bible refers.”
            Where today sits a railway station 120 miles north of Basra, Woolley found many closely situated private homes along with their broken pots, cuneiform texts, and even some gold jewelry.  He found silver lyres and other musical instruments and even a royal game board, complete with “men” to travel the wooden board. 
            What he discovered, in essence, was the ancient Sumerian civilization,   He also discovered royal tombs dating from 2700 BC.  It became apparent to these scientists than these tombs also contained the king’s personal retinue, people buried alive in a form of large scale human sacrifice.  Is there any wonder God would have called his righteous servant away from that society?  And Joshua said to all the people, Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, Long ago, your fathers lived beyond the Euphrates, Terah, the father of Abraham and of Nahor; and they served other gods. Then I took your father Abraham from beyond the River and led him through all the land of Canaan, and made his offspring many, Josh 24:2,3.  And so the Bible once again is proven not only accurate, but logical.
            Woolley’s faith may not have been as fundamental as we would like--he discovered evidence of a great flood in the area but you and I would not have agreed with all of his conclusions in that regard.  However, he seemed to work like this:  the Bible says it existed so he went looking for it.  How many others deny the witness of the Scriptures until their noses are rubbed in it?
            Charles Woolley died on this day in 1960.  Perhaps we can use this as a reminder.  More and more the world considers the Bible as anything but the Word of God.  Instead, they say, it is a book of myths and interesting stories.  Jesus was not the Son of God either; he was just a good rabbi.  Maybe it is time we spoke out more.  Are we embarrassed to be seen as ignorant yokels because we believe the scriptures to be the authentic and infallible Word of an Almighty Creator?  Do we water down the truths revealed in it because they are no longer politically correct?  
            It was easy to believe when most of our neighbors did.  It was easy to say, “The Bible says…” when we knew that statement would carry some weight.  Despite the fact that over and over discoveries are made to prove the factual content of the Bible, people still find reason not to accept it.  They always will.  Just read the first few chapters of Exodus.  Just read the gospels.  When people do not want to accept the accountability demanded of us by the Bible, they will reject it.  They will find every excuse in the world to say, “That’s different,” when the only difference is it refers directly to their lifestyles and habits. 
            Say thank you today to Sir Charles Leonard Woolley, but only if you will use his discovery to cement your faith and allow it to change your will.
 
But when I speak with you, I will open your mouth, and you shall say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord GOD.’ He who will hear, let him hear; and he who will refuse to hear, let him refuse, for they are a rebellious house, Ezek 3:27.
 
Dene Ward
                       

Monday morning I was outside for a good while, exercising Chloe, feeding the birds, pruning some dormant perennials in hopes of a good summer’s bloom.  While I puttered around, my mind wandered here and there, but eventually stayed on an idea for a devotional.  By the time I finished I had the thing half-written in my head, a good introduction, a nice outline, and even a punchy ending.  But I came in needing to study for my Tuesday morning class, a study that took nearly three arduous hours and left my brain frazzled, my neck aching from poring over the books and papers, and my eyes needing to do something besides focus so intently.
            The next day I spent in town, our usual one day a week of Bible class and all the stops we need to do at once to save the gas required for more than one sixty mile round trip.  Then Wednesday we left early for a dentist appointment that was one of the worst ever, leaving me fit for nothing but going to bed with a pain pill.  Then Thursday we had more appointments and by the time I sat down on Thursday night to type, my half written devotional was nothing but a vague memory in the back of my mind.  I sat for nearly half an hour trying to grab onto it as it floated just out of reach.  Finally I gave up and here I sit without that wonderful piece I was so excited about.
            I know this forgetting thing happens to you too.  Do you know how frustrating it is to teach something in a class, then six months later when it comes up in a sermon by a visiting preacher you can hardly get your next class started because everyone is so excited about this new truth they "just heard" the past Sunday morning?  I find myself sitting there thinking, “Where was your mind when we did this six months ago?”
            Keith feels the same frustration when he un-teaches a faulty concept that many have grown up with, watching the light bulbs go on one by one, only to have those same people repeat that faulty concept yet again the next time that passage comes up.  Yes, it happens to all of us—we forget what we have learned all too easily.
            Do you know how to avoid that?  I keep a notebook handy to jot down ideas that come up in my head when I don’t have time to sit down then and write.  The problem last Monday was not getting inside as quickly as usual and so forgetting to even put the idea in my notebook. 
            Learning involves some work.  I just sat through a wonderful class on a prophetic book I have never studied before, and never heard taught in any church anywhere.  What amazed me was the fact that only two of us were even bothering to take notes.  How much do you think the others remember now, several months later? 
            Come let us reason together…God says to His people in Isa 1:18.  That Hebrew word also means argue, convince, correct, dispute, judge, and many other words that involve thinking.  God will not listen to anyone try to argue, dispute, or convince Him of anything if that person has no clue what he is talking about.  I will be that clueless one if I do not study the Word of God and meditate (think) on it.  I will be equally clueless six months later if I have done nothing to help myself remember what I have learned.  I certainly won’t get it by osmosis from the pew I am sitting on or by an airborne germ just because I am sitting in the building where it was taught.
            Rene Descartes was the French philosopher who came up with this famous notion:  I think, therefore I am.  The guy did a whole lot of thinking his whole life long, but on February 11, 1650, he stopped thinking.  He died.  At least he had that excuse.  What’s yours?
 
And count the patience of our Lord as salvation, just as our beloved brother Paul also wrote to you according to the wisdom given him, as he does in all his letters when he speaks in them of these matters. There are some things in them that are hard to understand, which the ignorant and unstable twist to their own destruction, as they do the other Scriptures. You therefore, beloved, knowing this beforehand, take care that you are not carried away with the error of lawless people and lose your own stability. But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen, 2 Pet 3:15-18.
 
Dene Ward

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

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