We had people coming for lunch and Keith was helping me clean the house, particularly the heavier work.  As he walked past the dining table he happened to look at the fixture there, six of those candle-flame shaped bulbs surrounded by twelve rectangular glass plates etched with flowers.  “Looks a little dusty,” he said, and proceeded to clean them one at a time. 
            After he finished he turned on the light and I nearly grabbed my sunglasses.  I had not known the fixture was so dirty.  Those glass plates didn’t look that bad, hanging up above my head.  Boy, was I wrong.  The thing sparkles like it hasn’t in years.   Since I use that table for most of my Bible studies, maybe I won’t have so many headaches now.
            It’s not like I didn’t know it was there.  Certainly I understood the fixture could become dirty.  I have lived here for thirty years now and I know how much dust settles.  On the other hand, it is far above my head.  Like the top of the refrigerator, I never notice how dirty it has become.  I simply take the light for granted—after all, I can still see.
            Have you ever picked up something written by a skeptic or talked to one about the scriptures?  How they see the Bible will amaze you.  “What?”  I have thought many times.  “Where did they come up with that?   How did they get that out of that passage?”  It isn’t just the ignorant taking bits and pieces out of context.  It is their way of thinking that skews their viewpoint.  Of course a “free-thinking, free-loving intellectual” will see the morality of a Christian as a prison.  It takes a man who understands the integrity of temperance to see that other lifestyle as enslavement to self-indulgence.  “I will not be mastered by anything,” Paul says, and we who practice that understand the true liberty found in Christ.
            So how do we clean off the dust and see the light?  Peter, in speaking about the prophecies of Christ, makes a powerful point when he calls the word of God a light to which “you do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place” 1 Pet 1:19.  We live in the country.  The first comment most of our city-dwelling visitors make after an overnight is, “It sure is dark out here.”  We have learned to see in the starlight, but after hearing them bump around in the night so often, we now lay a small penlight on the bedside table in the guest room.  The dark can be dangerous—anyone can trip and fall.
            The Word does for us what that light does for our guests.  It opens our minds to the Truth; it helps us see things as they really are, not as the Prince of Darkness would have us think.  It shows us first and foremost our leader and his example.  “I am the light of the world,” Jesus said (John 8:12). “Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but have the light of life.”
            But having the advantage of that light places obligations on us.
            For you were once darkness, but are now light in the Lord: walk as children of light (for the fruit of the light is in all goodness and righteousness and truth), proving what is well-pleasing unto the Lord; and have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather even reprove them; for the things which are done by them in secret it is a shame even to speak of. But all things when they are reproved are made manifest by the light: for everything that is made manifest is light, Eph 5:8-13.
            You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do [men] light a lamp, and put it under the bushel, but on the stand; and it shines to all that are in the house. Even so let your light shine before men; that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven, Matt 5:14-16.
            Do all things without murmurings and questionings: that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you are seen as lights in the world, holding forth the word of life…Phil 2:14-16a.
            Look at your light this morning.  Is it dimmed with the dust and film of everyday life?  It is easy to take for granted the life we live in the Lord, to be satisfied with our lack of “big, bad sins.”  We may not be associating with the “unfruitful works of darkness,” but are we “reproving them?”  We may not be doing wrong, but are we doing right?  We may not forget to study our Bibles, but are we “holding forth the word?” 
            Maybe it’s time to do a little cleaning.  I wonder if your neighbors will need their sunglasses when you do.
 
Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father…Matt 13:43.
 
Dene Ward

Judah seems to enjoy his visits our here in the country as much, or maybe more than his big brother.  Like Silas, as soon as his feet hit the cool green grass, he fell in love with going barefoot and ran all over the place.  Since he usually ran me into the ground, I decided that first morning that he could handle walking Chloe with me.  I would have to slow our pace for him, but I was sure his active little legs could handle the distance.
            The boys and I started out ahead and then I called Chloe to follow.  Usually she is out front waiting for me, prancing impatiently, but Chloe is not your average dog.  She is a bit of an oxymoron—a scaredy-cat of a dog.  She is positive that everything on two feet is out to get her.  She is not afraid of us, nor of Lucas, but no one else can get near her.  Not even, as it turns out, a twenty-month old toddler.
            But that didn’t keep the toddler from trying.  As soon as he saw Chloe, Judah left the path along the fence and headed through the field toward her.  As soon as Chloe saw Judah, she took off running.  He sped up and I held my breath as he plowed through vines, briars, blackberries and stinging nettles.  I took off after him, sure that his soft baby skin would be scratched, torn, and bloody.  He single-mindedly waded on through, leaving a trail of bent and broken greenery behind, until finally I caught up and scooped him into my arms.  With his mind still on his goal, he pointed toward Chloe and said, “Dog.  Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuhf!”
            I checked him over and he was fine, not a mark on him, no blood, no rashes, no stickers poking out of tender little fingers or toes.  So I put him down, this time on the garden path, and called Chloe to resume our walk--and it started all over again.  Judah chased, Chloe ran, and I followed.  This was not going to work.   Finally I got the garden wagon, put Judah in it, and Chloe followed behind at what she deemed a safe distance--about thirty feet.  But every time Judah’s head swiveled to her and his little finger pointed, she veered from the path and dropped back another foot or two, until reassured that the dangerous little predator wouldn’t come swooping in and nab her unexpectedly.
            We had gone out that morning to walk Chloe.  Judah certainly didn’t have the goal in mind when we went for that walk.  That’s why he couldn’t stay on the path.  I realized not long afterward, though, that he did have a goal in mind.  It was just not the same goal as mine.  I wanted to walk the dog.  He wanted to experience the dog. 
            I think too many times we live our lives aimlessly.  We just let it happen, and then wonder why things went south.  We have no plan for improvement, no strategy for overcoming—we don’t even notice the temptation coming!  I found dozens of verses using the words aim, goal, and purpose.  I found others listing the things we should be looking for or to or toward.  Do you really think God has no purpose for you?
            I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me. Psa 57:2. 
            ​The LORD has made everything for its purpose, even the wicked for the day of trouble. Prov 16:4.
            If God has a purpose for the evil people in the world, then certainly He has one for His children.  So if He has a purpose for us, shouldn’t we be acting with purpose?  We are familiar with the concept of “purposing” our contributions, but why do you assemble where you do?  To be entertained?  Because this group is loving and makes me feel good?  Because I like the singing?  I know a lot of people who assemble with those goals in mind.  How about these instead:  I assemble here to serve others, even if they don’t serve me; I am here to learn and be admonished, even if they do step on my toes; I am here to participate in those acts we are to do as an “assembly” even if I don’t particularly care for the method used in getting that done.  Do you see?  When I have this sort of purpose, it stops being all about ME.
            Why do you work for a living?  Do you know the reason Paul gives?  “So you may have something to share with anyone in need.”  Eph 4:28.  Is that why you work?  I bet it’s not why your neighbor works.  And here we get to the point.  Judah and I did not share goals that morning, so we did not share paths either.  Are you sharing your neighbor’s path, or are you on a better one?  You ought to be.
            The world may look at how you live and shake its head.  There you go trudging through tall grass, sharp thorns, and clinging vines when the path they are taking is so much easier.  Paul had given up the goal of status among the Jewish leaders, along with potential wealth and fame.  “But whatever gain I had I counted as loss for the sake of Christ,” he said.  His goal in life had changed and so his path had as well.  I am sure his former colleagues and teachers looked with disbelief on the things he left behind and the causes he took up.  “But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Phil 3:7,13,14, just like that little toddler pressed on that morning.
            What is your goal?  You should have one every day, not just on Sundays, although that would be a good start for a lot of people.  Maybe the first thing you should do is look around and see who is on the same path you are.  That might give you pause to consider.
 
He exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose, Acts 11:23.

Dene Ward

 
            The car hummed along the highway as we carried our two grandsons to our home while mommy and daddy were away for a few days.  They slept away most of the two plus hour trip, waking in time to see the unfamiliar countryside sweep past on the last road “over the river and through the woods to grandma’s house.”
            They played the rest of the afternoon away, digging in the sand, chasing bubbles, and swinging on the old oak tree (the same one Daddy fell out of and broke his arm).  Dinner came only after a bath for those two dirty-faced, dirty-footed little fellows, a tub full of bubbles and cups and pitchers to pour over each other.  After their favorite mac and cheese, chicken nuggets and applesauce, it wasn’t long until their eyes were drooping and they were ready for bed.  “The tired-er the better,” we thought, especially for that first night. 
            They fell asleep quickly, twenty-month-old Judah in the “Pack and Play” and four year-old Silas by his own choice next to his little brother on the twin-sized airbed.  We listened through the rest of the evening, but never heard a peep. 
            However, at 4:52 a.m. I sensed something by my bed and woke to a small figure standing there in the starlight filtering through the curtains.  Dark in the country is not like dark in the city.  We have no streetlights—unless you live entirely too close to an uprooted city slicker who thinks he needs one, and we don’t.  We have no concrete to reflect the moonlight either.  When it’s dark, it’s dark, and if you are not used to navigating by God’s natural night lights, you think you woke up in a tomb.
            “Silas,” I whispered, “what’s wrong?”
            “All this dark is keeping me awake,” he said quite seriously, and even though I was sleepily thinking, “All this dark is supposed to keep you asleep!” I knew exactly what he meant.  Even though we had left a nightlight right by his bedroom door, it was far darker than he was used to, and when he woke it troubled him.
            By then Granddad had wakened as well, and he took him back to bed and lay with him until he was once again snoring his soft little boy snores, not much more than five minutes afterward.  He slept another three hours with no problem at all.
            I thought sometime later that week that this little boy had it right.  The dark should be keeping us awake.
            Even the Old Testament faithful understood the concept of walking in the light.  O house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light of Jehovah, Isa 2:5.  It seemed natural, then, for the Son to claim to be the light as well.  I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life, John 8:12.  And so, as children of God, we, too, are lights.  For you are all children of light, children of the day.  We are not of night or of darkness, 1 Thes 5:5.
            Unfortunately, the light has come into the world and the people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil, John 3:19.  As “children of light” we should be opposite the world.  We should not love the darkness; we should hate it. 
            This will come more naturally if we mature to the point that we don’t just walk in the light and not walk in the darkness.  Look at Eph 5:8:  for at one time you were darkness, but now are light in the Lord.  Do you see that?  Light isn’t just something you walk in, it is something you become.  Just as at one time you didn’t just walk in the darkness, you were darkness.  We have completely changed our essence.  No wonder we are supposed to hate the dark.  No wonder the mere presence of it in the world, among our neighbors, our friends and even our family, should be keeping us awake at night.
            All this dark is keeping me awake Lord, should be a lament on every Christian’s tongue.  Not only that, we should be actively trying to rid the world of that very darkness.  Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, Yes, rather, reprove them, Eph 5:11. 
            If the darkness in the world isn’t enough to keep a “child of light” awake, perhaps he has become something else.
 
Arise, shine; for your light is come, and the glory of Jehovah is risen upon you. For, behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the peoples; but Jehovah will arise upon you, and his glory shall be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising. Isa 60:1-3.

Dene Ward
 

Most families have just returned from a road trip of some variety this past summer.  You may not realize it, but this is a fairly recent development.  We seem to think that the Declaration of Independence lists our inalienable rights as “life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and a several thousand dollar family vacation every year.”  When I was growing up we might have gone on two or three “vacations” total.  The rest of the time we visited family, and that involved nothing but visiting—the adults talking and the children playing together.  Anywhere we might have done while we were there was a free day trip—no admission fees—and lunch was usually a picnic we packed ourselves. 
            If it hadn’t been for discovering tent camping, my boys would not have had vacations either.  In those days you could pitch a tent in a state park for $7.00 a night, and cook your own meals over the campfire instead of eating out.  We also did our share of family visiting.  Although you hate to view your family as a “free motel,” it was the only way we could see them at least once a year.
            I like to think of this life as a road trip.  Too many people consider it the destination and that will skew your perspective in a bad way.  If you think this life is supposed to be the good part, you will sooner or later be severely disappointed.
            As we go along the road a lot of things happen.  We will be faced with decisions that are not easy to make, and which may turn out badly.  Sometimes we are too easy on ourselves, making excuses and rationalizing.  But other times we are entirely too hard on ourselves.  If you look back on a decision you made years ago, and find yourself wishing you had done things differently, that doesn’t necessarily mean you were wrong then.  Sometimes it simply means you were without experience, a little naïve, a lot ignorant.
            Let’s put it this way.  I live almost an hour north of Gainesville, Florida.  If I leave for Atlanta at 8 AM, it’s no shame if I am not even to Macon by 10 AM.  On the other hand, if I leave at 5 AM and haven’t even made Macon yet, something is wrong.  I’ve been dawdling over gas pumps, stopping for snacks too many times, or wandering through tourist traps that have nothing to do with the trip itself.  The question, then, is not where you are on the road, but when you left in the first place.  You can’t expect yourself to know what to do in every situation of life when you haven’t even experienced much life.  The decision you make today may be completely different than the one you made in the same situation twenty years ago, but twenty years ago if you did the best you could do with what you knew, you did well.
            And what are we doing on our road trip?  Are we wasting too much time at tourist traps?  Life is full of distractions, things not necessarily wrong, but which may not help us on the trip at all, or may even do harm by skewing our perspective.  It really isn’t important where you live and what kind of car you drive in this life.  If you think it is, you’ve forgotten where you’re headed—the here and now has become your goal instead. 
            If you want to keep your mind on the goal, ignore the billboards life puts out for you and spend time with your atlas.  Nothing helps me get through a long trip more than watching the towns go by and following them with my finger on the map.  Every time I check the mileage we are a little further on, and soon, sooner than you might think, the destination is in sight.  That’s why you started this trip in the first place—not for the World’s Largest Flea Market, or the Gigantic Book Sale, or even the Only Locally Owned Canning Facility and Orchard (with free samples). 
            Watch the road, use the map, avoid the tourist traps.  Make the best decisions you can at every intersection.  This is the only road trip you get.  Don’t mess it up.
 
Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you. Ponder the path of your feet; then all your ways will be sure. Do not swerve to the right or to the left; turn your foot away from evil. Proverbs 4:25-27

Dene Ward

I am getting tired of this.  Too many times lately I have heard that we should not worry about the examples left to us in God’s word—we can’t do it anyway.  It’s just a bunch of idealism.  We should be content with what we can do so our self-esteem won’t suffer; so we won’t have to deal with guilt; so we won’t push ourselves beyond our limits.  We should stop looking to Biblical role models and just be ourselves.
            Maybe it’s the generation I came from.  Maybe it’s the family work ethic I grew up with.  I can just hear my grandmothers both saying, “If you have time to whine, you have time to do a little more work.” 
            Those women just did what had to be done, when it had to be done, how it had to be done, and never expected praise for it.  They never suffered a lack of self-esteem either.  They were both happy women, content with their lots in life despite the real sweat they sweated and the long hours they kept, both in the home and in the workplace.  One grandmother, widowed from her 40s, was still walking to work in her 70s.  In Florida.  Even in the summer.  If you had told them they were strong women, they would have laughed in your face.
            I am tired of having Biblical examples held up as impossible.  I am tired of hearing how we should just ignore them and not worry about being like them, because we can’t anyway.  God has always given His people examples to follow.  Moses, Aaron, Miriam, Abraham, Samuel, and David were always held up for the Israelites to emulate throughout the chronicles, the psalms and the prophets.  What?  Should He have given them a reprobate to imitate?
            The Hebrew writer gives us a whole list of people to model ourselves after.  And guess what?  Not a one of them was perfect—yet they all did at least one amazing act of faith, something we probably think we “just can’t do.”  Shall we ignore them because, after all, God would not want us to experience a feeling of failure? 
            Paul told the Corinthians in 1 Cor 11:1 to follow his example.  Yes, it was a specific example the context of which begins in chapter 8, but still—can we imitate Paul at all?  Or shall we claim disability and dispense with his advice?  “After all, we’re not Paul…”
            I am tired of having women who began in the depths of sin held up as the example to follow as if they had never changed.  Jesus told the adulterous woman in John 8, “Go thy way and sin no more.”  Wasn’t that an impossible task?  But I bet that forgiven woman tried to accomplish it a whole lot harder than we do and succeeded far better for the trying. 
            If we are asking too much of people to strive for the ideal, then how could Peter have ever written:  For to this you have been called because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example so that you might follow in his steps, 1 Pet 2:21.  How could Paul have said we are to be “conformed to the image of His son,” Rom 8:29; and “walk in love as Christ loved us” Eph 5:2; and “Have this mind in you which was also in Christ” Phil 2:5?  How could John have dared write “If we abide in him we should walk as he walked” 1 John 2:6?
            Certainly following Christ’s example perfectly is a difficult task.  But tell me, how can you ever become better if the goal you have set before yourself is easily attainable?  If I wanted to become a long distance runner, surely my goal should be something more than running down to the mailbox and back—even my mailbox which is nearly half a mile away.  Surely if it is frustrating to model ourselves after a high example, we should avoid using the Lord as one.  That is what follows from the logic I have been hearing lately:  the only thing that will come from me trying to be like my Lord is self-doubt and feelings of unworthiness, so I shouldn’t even try.
            God must think otherwise.  He places high expectations in front of us, and He expects us to use them as goals, not ignore them because they are impossible.  Do you know why?  Because He gives us the tools to reach them.
            1 Pet 4:11—We serve by the “strength which God supplies,” not what we supply.
            Eph 3:20—His power “works in us;” His power, not ours.
            2 Tim 3:17—He equips us “for every good work;” not just the ones we find easy.
            God does expect a lot from us.  Here is the key:  stop picking at it like a sore.  Just do what is set before you every day, that much and no more.  If you have time to sit down and cry about it, you’re wasting one of the few precious commodities you can control, and that for only the moment.  Remember where your power comes from, and do not doubt it for an instant. 
            Will it be easy?  No—maybe that is another one of our problems.  We expect God to make it comfortable.  We expect it to be fun.  We expect it to never hurt.  We think if we have to sweat it isn’t fair.  God never promised any of that.  He did promise all the help we could possibly need.
            Here is where you find your sense of self-worth:  not in what you alone can do, but in recognizing that with a loving Father’s help, you can do more than you ever dreamed possible.
 
 And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work, 2 Corinthians 9:8.
 
Dene Ward

“I enjoyed my dinner.”  Did your parents teach you to say that to the hostess every time you went to another home for a meal?  Mine did, and I am sure that the hostess knew that’s why I said it.  Some things are done just to be polite, like asking, “How are you?”  Everyone knows it is a greeting not a question to be answered.  It’s semantics, and part of our culture.
            But there are other times when the compliment is sincere.  Keith learned early on when someone was saying, “Good lesson,” to be polite, and when it was really meant, and the latter were precious to him.
            If we can know these things, why do we think God won’t?  Why do we think we can go through the motions without going through the e-motions? 
            There they cry out, but he does not answer, because of the pride of evil men. Surely God does not hear an empty cry, nor does the Almighty regard it, Job 35:12-13.  If the only time God hears from me is when I cannot fend for myself, why would He come to my aid then?  If I expect help, I must offer something myself—like love, devotion, worship, and obedience.  That’s why it is called a covenant—both parties agree to give something.
            They utter mere words; with empty oaths they make covenants, Hos 10:4.  Undoubtedly, the covenant Israel made with God fit this condemnation.  Instead of loving God “with all their hearts,” they did what they thought necessary to get along with Him, imagining that outward rituals mattered more than sincere hearts.  It has never been so with God, and never will be.
            You cannot give God ritual obedience and think you have offered sincere worship.  You cannot follow the Law to the letter and leave undone its weightier matters Matt 23:23.  Israel tried it and God said, I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.  Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them… Amos 5:21,22.  Jesus echoed that comment when he said, Go and learn what this means—I desire mercy and not sacrifice… Matt 9:13.
            God has always required sincerity and truth; He has always wanted those who obey from the heart Rom 6:17.  He has always sought a people who will be His in more than name only.  God knows when, “I enjoyed my dinner,” comes from a thankful heart and when it is just a courtesy. 
            When you pray tonight, will He recognize your words as sincere compliments, or just more formulaic nonsense meant only to salve a hypocritical conscience?”  He knows the difference.
 
This day the Lord your God commands you to do these statutes and rules.  You shall therefore be careful to do them with all your heart and with all your soul, Deut 26:16.
 
Dene Ward

It must be a sign of age.  I find myself reminiscing a lot more lately.  When we walked the property with Lucas last Thanksgiving we talked more about the past than the present.  Certainly more than the future—which for us is suddenly so much smaller than the past.
            “Remember the wild myrtles by the fire pit?”
            “Yes, we sometimes hung a tarp on the branches so we could scoot under it and have a hot dog roast even in a drizzle.”
            “Remember the pine tree in the field?”
            “Yep.  That was first base.”
            “Remember how small these oak trees used to be?”
            “Yes.  I used to climb up limbs that are too rotten to trust any longer, what there are left of them.”
            I remember wondering what it would be like after the boys were grown, when we were living here alone in a quiet house and an empty yard.  No more wondering, only remembering.
            I have said to more than one who came seeking advice that looking back on our past can be helpful.  If you despair at ever becoming the Christian you ought to be, look where you were ten years ago.  Can you see any improvement?  Can you say to yourself, “I don’t act that way now,” about anything at all?  God meant for us to be encouraged, and I find nothing in the scriptures telling me I can’t take a moment every now and then to check my progress and use it as a gauge, both to spur myself on if I see none, and to invigorate my growth with any positive impetus it gives me.
            Many times we quote Paul’s comment to the Philippians, “Forgetting the things that are behind…” (3:13). In fact, I have heard preachers say we shouldn’t think about the past at all.  But Paul didn’t believe that.  He remembered all his life where he started, “the chief of sinners,” 1 Tim 1:16.  He used that memory to keep himself humble before others and grateful to God for the salvation granted him. It bolstered his faith enough to endure countless hardships and persecutions.  As a “chief sinner” he could hardly rail against God for the tortures he suffered when he knew he deserved so much more.
            God has always wanted his people to remember the past.  I lost count of the passages in Deuteronomy exhorting Israel to remember that they were slaves in a foreign country, and that God loved them enough to deliver them with His mighty hand.  Here is a case, though, where the reminding didn’t work as it did for Paul.  Still, God tried.  What is the Passover but a reminder of their deliverance from Egypt?  What is the Feast of Tabernacles but a reminder of His care for them in the wilderness?  What was the pot of manna in the Ark of the Covenant, the stones on the breastplate of the ephod, and the pile of rocks by the Jordan but the same?  “Remember, remember, remember!” God enjoined.  It’s how we use that memory that makes it right or wrong.
            Paul says we are to remember what we used to be.  “And such were some of you,” he reminds the Corinthians in chapter 6, after listing what we consider the worst sins imaginable.  You “were servants of sin” he reminds the Romans in 6:17.  You once walked “according to the course of this world,” “in vanity of mind,” “in the desire of the Gentiles,” and in a host of other sins too numerous to list (Eph 2:2; 4:17; 1 Pet 4:3; Col 3; Titus 3.)  Those memories should spur us on in the same way they prodded Paul.  Nothing is too hard to bear, too much to ask, or too difficult to overcome if we remember where we started.  Be encouraged by your growth and take heart.
            And then this: let your gratitude be always abounding, overflowing, and effusive to a God who loves us in whatever state we find ourselves, as long as that growth continues.
 
Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called "the uncircumcision" by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands-- remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ, Ephesians 2:11-13.
 
Dene Ward

When we describe our camping trips, people sigh and say things like, “That sounds heavenly.” 
            We cook over an open fire, the meat caramelized by the flames and flavored by the smoke.  At night we sit by a pile of crackling logs under a black sky of twinkling diamond stars and sip hot chocolate.  In the mornings we cuddle by a fire pulled together from the coals of the night before, and gaze on a view that ought to cost extra—mountain after mountain after green rolling mountain against a blue sky, or wrapped with frothy clouds like lacy boas, or peeking through a fine mist, or shining in the sun, covered with trees sporting all the fall colors along with a few dark evergreens.  We hike through wilderness forests unsullied by human rubbish, watching birds we seldom see flit from limb to limb, coons or deer or bears trundling off in the distance or standing stock still in shock staring at us, tiny rills splashing over rocks into larger brooks running to yet larger creeks and finally to the rivers in the valleys below.  We visit orchards and buy apples straight from the tree, not prettied up for the store, sporting a real blemish here and there, but full of flavor, juicy with a perfect texture.  That evening we peel and slice a skillet full, add butter, sugar and cinnamon, set them on a low flame on the propane camp stove and twenty minutes later eat the best dessert you ever had.
            Then we trot out the other side of camping to our friends:  a day long misty rain that, even inside the screen set up over the table, seeps into your clothes and leaves you shivering; carrying a loaded tote to the bathhouse a few hundred yards up or down a steep hill every time you want to brush your teeth or take a shower; stepping outside the tent in the morning to a thermometer that reads 27 degrees. 
            “I could never do that!” one says.  “I’d be headed for the first Holiday Inn!” another proclaims.  Unfortunately, you don’t get the good part without the bad part.  The good parts often happen after the day-trippers head for the hotel.  Their food doesn’t come close and they pay a whole lot more for it at a restaurant than we did at the grocery store the week before we left.  They see the view once, just for a few minutes before being jostled out of the way by the next person standing behind them at the overlook.  And most hotels would frown on a campfire in their rooms.
            Keith and I are snobs about our camping.  When we camp, we live outdoors.  We don’t hide when the weather turns cold, or even wet—we can’t in a tent.  So we just wrap up and tough it out.  Oh, so superior are we.  But we have our limits too.  You will never find us at a primitive campsite.  You certainly won’t find us at a pioneer campsite.  We want our water spigot and electricity.  How do you think we handle those nights in the 20s?  We handle them with a long outdoor extension cord snaking its way inside the tent zipper to an electric blanket stuffed in the double sleeping bag and a small $15 space heater that, amazingly, raises the tent temperature 20-30 degrees inside.
            So where am I when it comes to Christianity?  Am I sold on the health and wealth gospel?  As long as good things happen to me, I am perfectly willing to believe in God and be faithful to Him.  Do I recognize the need for a little bit of trouble to prove my faith, but NOT full scale persecution or trial?  Have I come through some tough tests and now think so well of myself that I can scream to God, “Enough!” as if I had the right to lay out the terms for my faithfulness?
            The rich young ruler thought he was pretty good.  He had kept the commandments.  But Jesus knew where this fellow drew the line—his wealth.  So that is precisely where Jesus led him. 
            Do we have a line we won’t cross?  Is it possessions, security, health, family stability, friendships, comfort?  Whatever it is, the Lord will make sure you come against that line some day in your life.  You may think you are fine—why I can stay in my tent when it’s 25 degrees out!  What if the thermometer hit zero?  What if it rained, not just one day, but every day?  What if I had no running water, no hot showers, no electric blanket?  Would I pack up and head for the hotel?  Or would I tough it out, knowing the reward was far greater than even the most torturous pain imaginable in this life?
            You can’t run to the hotel and hide when persecution strikes.  You can’t close the RV door and count on riding out the storms of life.  Sometimes God expects you to stay in the tent in the most primitive campsite available.  Sometimes he even takes away the tent.  But you will still have the best refuge anyone could hope for if you make use of it, and when the trial is over, you get to enjoy the good parts that everyone else missed.
 
And another also said, I will follow you, Lord; but first suffer me to bid farewell to them that are at my house. But Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God, Luke 9:61,62.
 
Dene  Ward

            On April 6, 1896, the first modern day Olympics opened in Athens, Greece, after a break of 1500 years.  You will find varying accounts but there were 240-280 athletes from 13 or 14 countries who participated in 43 events.  The games were organized by the International Olympic Committee, created by Pierre de Coubertin.  First place received a silver medal and second a copper medal.  The IOC has now retroactively awarded gold, silver, and bronze medals as the custom came to be.  So with that in mind, at the first modern Olympiad, the United States won the most gold medals at 11, but the Greeks won the most overall at 47.  The games were so successful that they continued every four years with the exception of 1916 (World War I) and 1940 and 1944 (World War II).
            While I was doing the research for this post I came across a reference to an athlete from the original Olympics period, the 207th Olympiad in 47 AD.  Melankomas of Caria won the boxing event.  Legend has it that he won without dealing a single blow and without being hit.  He trained day and night and his endurance was such that it is said he could hold up his arms to defend himself and dodge blows for two days straight until the opponent simply wore himself out and could no longer fight.  Obviously there were no time limits or rounds in those days.  A good discussion of the man and the history of Greek boxing in general can be found on WordPress, "The Arms Man" and "The Greatest Boxer of All Time."  You will also find more varying information about exactly when he boxed, for even that information is a little unsettled.
            After reading this piece I found myself reciting Isaiah 53:  He was oppressed, yet when he was afflicted he opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth, Isa 53:7.  Jesus won the battle with Satan not by striking him down but by taking our punishment upon himself; not by fighting back but by rising from the dead.  The "blow" Jesus dealt to Satan was a sinless life and the resurrection from the dead.
            Melankomas was not the first boxer by that name in the ancient Olympics.  The first was his father, and he simply took up his father's occupation and perfected it.  Jesus asks the same of his disciples.  "Follow me," he said again and again.  And "Turn the other cheek," "Love your enemies," "Reconcile with your brother," be willing to "take wrong" and "be defrauded" for the kingdom's sake.  Again and again we are taught not to strike a blow, but to take one without striking back, to give more than people ask of us and to share with the needy.  And if we do, we will find ourselves winning the race just like he did, never striking out, never taking revenge, but giving good to all. 
            Our Olympiad occurs every day.  Let's fight as he did, as Paul did, and win the gold.
 
Know ye not that they that run in a race run all, but one receives the prize? Even so run; that ye may attain.  And every man that strives in the games exercises self-control in all things. Now they [do it] to receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible.  I therefore so run, as not uncertainly; so fight I, as not beating the air: but I buffet my body, and bring it into bondage: lest by any means, after that I have preached to others, I myself should be rejected 1 Cor 9:24-27.
 
Dene Ward

Keith was fiddling with the campfire while I stood behind him shivering.  A pile of twigs lay over two slivers of lighter wood to which he held a match.  Black smoke curled up from the charred wood, which flared briefly then died out—over and over and over.  Suddenly one of the twigs caught and began to burn.  A few minutes later the lighter wood beneath finally began to burn, its thick oily flame blazing brightly.
            “Now that’s something,” he muttered, “when the twigs catch faster than the lighter.”
            Not many are familiar with lighter wood any more.  Also known as pitch pine, this wood contains a high concentration of resin.  The smell is often overpowering, as if you had soaked it in lighter fluid.  When you watch one of those old movies, the torches the mob carries are pieces of lighter wood.  You can’t light a piece of wood with a match—not unless it’s lighter wood, which lights up instantly, like a kerosene-soaked corn cob.
            Except the piece Keith was using that morning.  We had left behind the warmth of an electric-blanket-stuffed double sleeping bag and crawled out into a crisp morning breeze on an open mountaintop, the thermometer next to the tent barely brushing the bottom of thirty degrees.  We needed a fire in a hurry, but what should have been reliable wasn’t, what should have been the first to solve the problem had itself become the problem.
            As I pondered that the rest of the day, my first thought was the Jews’ rejection of Christ.  Sometimes we look at Pentecost and think, “Wow!  Three thousand in one day!  Why can’t we have that kind of success?” 
            Success?  I’ve heard estimates of one to two million Jews in Jerusalem at Pentecost.  Even if it were the lesser number, out of a specially prepared people, 3000 is only three-tenths of one percent—hardly anyone’s definition of “success.”  Here are people who had heard prophecies for centuries, who then had the preaching of John, and ultimately both the teaching and miracles of Jesus, people who should have caught fire and lit the world.  Instead the apostles had to eventually “turn to the Gentiles” who “received them gladly.”
            And today?  Does the church lead the way, or are we so afraid of doing something wrong that we do absolutely nothing?  Have we consigned Christianity to a meetinghouse?  Do our religious friends out-teach us, out-work us (yes, even those who don’t believe in “works-salvation”), and out-love us?  Do we, who should be setting the world on fire, sit and wait for someone else to help the poor, visit the sick and convert the sinners, then pat ourselves on the back because we didn’t do things the wrong way, while ignoring the fact that we didn’t do anything at all?
            And, even closer to home, do we older Christians lead the way in our zeal for knowing God’s word, standing for the truth, yielding our opinions, and serving others, or must we be shamed into it by excited young Christians who, despite our example, understand that being a Christian is more about what we do than what we say?
            It’s disgraceful when the twigs catch fire before the lighter wood.
 
And let us consider how to stir one another up to love and good works, Heb 10:24.
 
Dene Ward