In 1994 we found out that Marsha was going to have to learn how to use a computer at work, so she was going to have to go to Cleveland three times a week for classes. This would last for twelve weeks. She went into a panic. In a classroom situation, Marsha would go blank. In seminary she would come home from classes in tears because she didn’t understand. She started the year after me, and she was taking some of the courses I had already taken, so we would sit down and go through it all again. One on one, she was fine. Even the courses I had not taken, I just read the material to her and then she was fine. It was just the classroom thing.

          So now she was going to have to take classes again. “You are going to have to help me!” Ten years earlier, while in school, I had answered an ad for someone with computer experience. Sure, I had experience. I had done some data entry. Easy stuff that a well trained monkey could do. They hired me. It was a company that was going to be switching over to computer for every aspect of their operation. They already had the new computers. They gave me ten large binders and told me I had to program the computers for each phase and it needed to be done in six months.

          For those who don’t remember, people were terrified of computers back in the day. We had all read about these highly trained technicians who ran the computers in the secret base dug out of a mountain that controlled the nation’s nuclear strike capabilities. Practically no one wanted to touch the things. My little bit of data entry made me an expert in the field. And when they told me I would be programming, that is what they meant. The computers were empty of information. There was something called DOS, which enabled you to write a program without using binary code. (I believe DOS stood for Dumb Operating System) All the information I needed was in those three inch binders. Probably the worse six months of my life.

          In the ten years since I had programmed those computers, great strides had been made. Marsha was going to need to know Excell, the first beginnings of Power Point and half a dozen other programs. I knew nothing of these things. I had come to hate computers ten years earlier and had said we would never have one in our home. But, without a computer at home, I would not be able to help her. She really liked her job and it was going to be a shame if she lost it, but I saw no other way. But then our son came home from school with a note that said the next school year the kids were all going to be learning basic computer skills and it would help immensely if there was a computer in the home. Now I was discouraged. Marsha and Adam were excited because we were going to get a computer, but I was not happy at all.

          As I recall, there was no Office Max or Staples or Best Buy or Circuit City. There was Radio Shack. They were going to kill you in price. Or, you could go to K-mart. At K-mart there was this geeky kid who really knew a lot. He said we could buy the basic system, which came with all the programs Adam would need, and then buy and add the programs Marsha would need and it would be slightly cheaper than buying one with everything already in it. The computer probably had less computing power than my current, dirt-cheap cell phone, but it cost better than two thousand dollars more. Marsha’s continued employment and Adam’s school work. They were thrilled. I sat down and signed all the paperwork for the loan and we went home. The thing had to be delivered because no one kept that kind of thing in stock. Marsha created a nest for the computer and a week later there were several boxes on the floor in the spare bedroom, which was now our first computer room.

          Hooking it up was a major thing. As yet there was no color code hook up. And there was no plug and play. To attach the monitor and mouse, you had to plug it in and then go through this other program to install each item. To hook up the printer you had to install a floppy disc and follow instructions. But, finally, after several hours, we gathered around as a family and pushed the button. Whirring noises, little clicks, cooling fans coming on. And then the monitor lit up. Whoa! We were computerized!

          Except the monitor told us to input the password to continue. Password? Why? Were we going to have control over those nuclear missiles after all? We didn’t need a password! But we needed one to proceed. The computer was not going to be hooked up to that thing called the internet, but we needed a password.

Out came the instructions. There, on page 1,456 were the paragraphs that explained how to set up a password. We followed the instructions and then got to the point of selecting a password. The instructions said to pick a unique word or series of letters, but would also be easy to remember. We all sat down and brainstormed. (by that time, not much of a storm) Then Adam ran and grabbed the wireless phone. He ran back and said, “Wait a minute. OK, type in 9233!” I did that and the computer accepted it. “OK, son, what does that have to do with the phone?” “It’s the numbers that spell out WADE!” And so, 9233 was our password for a long time. Even when passwords had to get more complicated in order to satisfy the increasingly security conscience computer and internet needs, we still used some variation of 9233.

In time, though, it has become more complicated. So many numbers, so many letters, so many special characters. 9233 finally went into the memory of our minds.

Wouldn’t it be the pits if we had to give a password to the Lord? What would your password be? What would satisfy Him? It is a good thing that all we need is a contrite heart and a desire for forgiveness.

Matthew 11:28-30; ²⁸ Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”