We had headed out on our trip to Apalachicola in the middle of the week, in late October.  Since Keith retired we have discovered the best times for traveling are any time but the week-end.  Less traffic, fewer tourists vying for the same sights, food, and lodging.  And our own Inn was less expensive midweek, so the gift certificate from our children went further.
            We had decided to take US 98 west along the coast.  As a born and bred Florida girl it seemed a shame that I had never in my life made that trip, winding around on two lane roads bordering the Gulf, watching the waves through and beneath the stilted beach houses, swaying sea oats, and sand dunes.  We prepared ourselves to be relaxed and patient and enjoy the brand new scenery despite miles and miles of bumper to bumper tourist traffic.
            So we headed out early, stopping in Branford, a small town on the Suwannee River with a café featuring an excellent breakfast, including the biggest, fluffiest, tastiest biscuits I had eaten in any café anywhere—the Branford Gathering, if you care to know.  We took our time there, as well, chatting up the waitress about their lunch and evening meals, asking her favorite dish and the best times to eat each of those meals—just in case.
            Then we crossed that fabled river and headed through "Old Florida," not the glitzy Florida of amusement parks, tourist traps, and high end hotels.  This was more like the Florida I grew up in, though decidedly more wooded than central Florida.  The sun flashed metronomically through pencil thin pine forests.  Logging trucks sat rumbling by the side of the road in deep muddy ruts awaiting their load of logs before pulling out on the two lane blacktop.  Pickups passed going the opposite direction, some pulling horse trailers, some boats, and others farm equipment.  Up ahead we would see a green sign telling us we were entering a town—Cabbage Grove, Scanlon, Newport--only to find a convenience store or a gas station, and little else.
            Finally we turned south toward the Gulf, wondering when the traffic would begin.  We wondered that for mile after mile, even after we gained sight of the water.  We kept trundling along at the speed limit, on cruise control, in fact, never once having to hit the brakes for another vehicle.  Somewhere around Carabelle we picked up a car or two ahead of us, but it was probably Eastpoint before we really had any traffic.  As a result we arrived about two hours earlier than we expected, and had absolutely no trouble finding our inn.  We came across the bridge at the mouth of the Apalachicola River and there it stood.
            Apalachicola is a slow, lazy, Southern town.  Diagonal street parking, a lone blinking yellow light, more pedestrians than vehicles and not that many of them.  After finding our room and unpacking, we went for a hike and quickly found the Visitors' Center.  We were the only visitors there.  And that may be the first place we came across the nickname of that area of Florida's Big Bend—the Forgotten Coast.
            You may be thinking, "Forgotten?  Who ever heard of it in the first place?"  As it turns out, Apalachicola was once a very important place.  Between 1840 and 1860 it was the third busiest cotton port on the Gulf, after New Orleans and Mobile.  By 1860 the population was nearly 2000.  And now?  The population in 2010 was still just over 2200.  The railroad no longer runs from Columbus, Georgia, with its tons of cotton, and Apalachicola is suddenly not as important as it used to be.  Shrimpers and oystermen still work the waters, supplying 90% of the oysters consumed in the state.  But without the railroad, the cotton, and the ships offshore waiting for those bales, the town, even the whole coast, never continued growing.  It has become "Forgotten."
            When something is no longer an important part of our lives, we tend to "forget" it.  Not that we really cannot remember it happening, just that we seldom think about it, and certainly never plan our lives around it.  That's what happened to God.  His people "forgot" him.
            God warned them that might happen.  And when the LORD your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give you—with great and good cities that you did not build, and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant—and when you eat and are full, then take care lest you forget the LORD, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. (Deut 6:10-12)
            And sure enough, even that warning did them no good.  But I am the LORD your God from the land of Egypt; you know no God but me, and besides me there is no savior. ​It was I who knew you in the wilderness, in the land of drought; ​but when they had grazed, they became full, they were filled, and their heart was lifted up; therefore they forgot me. (Hos 13:4-6)
            I wonder if we don't need the same warning.  We live in prosperous times.  Most of us are so wealthy we don't even realize it.  "Busyness" has become a status symbol in itself.  And so our extra classes die on the vine because no one attends, the older men who offer their help in study sit alone and waiting for all the ones who never show up, and our children complain because doing a Bible lesson is "boring."  A very few good women take care of every need among the saints while others have their families, or their careers, or their "me time."
            Do we realize how dangerous this is?  My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge; because you have rejected knowledge, I reject you from being a priest to me. And since you have forgotten the law of your God, I also will forget your children. (Hos 4:6)  When God is no longer the center of our lives, when pleasing him is no longer our purpose, when knowing more and more about him and his Word so we can serve him even better is considered extraneous, when serving his people is the last thing on our lists and therefore usually undone, we are forgetting God just as those people did so long ago.
            A God whom the Old Testament describes as one whose "lovingkindness endures forever" again and again, eventually ran out of patience with a people who no longer valued him or his law.  Don't think his patience won't run out on us.
 
I will scatter you like chaff driven by the wind from the desert. ​This is your lot, the portion I have measured out to you, declares the LORD, because you have forgotten me…(Jer 13:24-25)
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

Sometime in our first year or two, I read an article, I think in Reader's Digest, about the joy an older couple had in reading the journals they kept of their years together. Shortly after Lucas was born in 77, I began. I really did not know how. It was not a "Dear Diary" outpouring of thoughts and emotions, just a daily record of the things we did and sometimes what we thought about them. Each year, we bought a 200 page college ruled notebook and keep a day on one side of each page. For momentous events sometimes more than one side was needed. Dene added her bit sometimes but it was not until the boys were in high school that she became regular. Sometimes, I got behind and had to write events a week or more in the past. Now, we both write every evening.

And we have enjoyed reading them. They serve as a check on memory as both of us have been wrong about sequence of events and we each forget about the same number of things. Some things we had not recalled pop back in memory as clear as yesterday yet we wonder about some of the others. We have used hard cards to create a table of contents for each year and are current up to 2019. We learned the balance to keep it on one card plus half the back. We find many more wonderful memories than we find in our photographs of the same years.

Lesson one:
One cannot repent specifically of all his sins. I recorded with satisfaction something I had done to Dene and how right I was to do that.  When I reread that day this time through (not our first reading), I was smitten with remorse. I was proud of myself then. I was so right! With years of spiritual growth I now know I sinned. Of course I both repented and apologized to her right then. But, I had completely forgotten about doing this act. Had I not read it in the journal, no matter how spiritual I became, I could never have specifically repented of this sin I did not remember. This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. We all grow. We know better than we once did. Our memories fail us regarding all the things we need to repent.  We join the Tax Collector, "God be merciful to me, a sinner" (Lk 18:13).

Lesson two:
We have no way to know which events were God working through us and which were our own wills. I am often astounded at how much preaching/teaching I did, how many good and kind deeds, etc. I am just as surprised at how many foolish things I said and did. I can see no pattern. Many say, "God has a better plan for you" to comfort someone after a personal disaster. On the other hand, that disaster (sin?) may have slammed doors in God's face and made insurmountable roadblocks to his plans for us. We see no pattern when we read for we have no ability to know how things might have worked had we made different choices, had bad things not happened, etc.

Lesson three:
One constant we see in our past is a steadfast devotion to God. Our faith has been the basis of all our decisions whether we proclaimed such or even discussed it in that manner. Yes, we made bad decisions and bad choices but we did so in good faith efforts to serve God. However, our memories without the journals do not always see it that way. They have been a comfort to our souls.

Taking personal stock is always beneficial, as well as learning from the past.  This journal has helped us do just that. 

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting! (Ps 139:23-24).
 
Keith Ward

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

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

Most of us know that America is named after Amerigo Vespucci, an Italian who voyaged to the New World first in 1497.  What we don't know is that he wasn't much of an explorer after all.  His claim to fame seems to be that he is the first one who realized that North and South America were two separate continents and that neither were part of Asia.  But many scholars believe he was a second-rate explorer at best, even if he was (we think) the first person to discover the mouth of the Amazon River.  Vespucci died on this date in 1512.
            What many knowledgeable people remember him for now is pickles (Mental Floss, "A Brief History of Pickles" by Michele Debczak, Sept 3, 2021.)  It seems that before he began exploring, he was a ship chandler, a supply merchant to ships and explorers.  It is said that Vespucci even furnished supplies for one of Columbus's voyages.  Crossing the Atlantic took a while, and without refrigeration, ordinary food would spoil.  So ships usually carried supplies of both dried and pickled foods to carry them through.  The pickled items were especially helpful in preventing scurvy.  Pickle sellers were indispensable in the Golden Age of Exploration.  In later times Ralph Waldo Emerson called Vespucci "the pickle dealer of Seville," which was meant to be derisive, but was not untrue, except perhaps in scope.
            Pickles have been important in history since about 4000 BC in Mesopotamia.  I have even read that the "cucumbers" in the Bible were really pickles.  Once again, it was a matter of storage, but also of nutrition.  You could pickle practically any fruit or vegetable and that meant a better diet for all those folks so long ago.
            I happen to like pickles, usually dill.  But once upon a time, I discovered something a little different.
          I first had one thirty-nine years ago in a rural community southwest of here.  The farm wife put them on the table in a clear gallon jar and we dug into the neck with a long skinny fork she must have found just for that job.  They were sweet, thin, crisp, gave a crunch as loud as a kettle-cooked potato chip and left a small twinge in your jaw right under your ear from the perfect amount of vinegar.  It was the first sweet pickle I had ever liked, and I was becoming more and more adept at canning and preserving and wanted to give this one a try since the whole family liked them.
            "Could I possibly have the recipe?" I asked her.
            She hesitated and I presumed it was one of her "secret" recipes that she did not like to share, but no, that was not the problem at all.
            "It's a really old recipe with strange directions," she said, "but if you can figure out what they mean and follow them carefully, it does work.  It is very important that you follow the directions carefully and don't change anything."
            My first thought was that she could easily write it so I could understand it, whatever the problem was, but when she handed it to me to copy for myself, I saw the issues right away.
            The recipe called for "a gallon of water and enough salt to float an egg." 
            "I've never measured it," she said.  "I just keep adding salt to a gallon of water until an egg floats."
            Oh, well, all right. 
           The next ingredient was "a ten cent tin of alum."  If you have bought any groceries lately, you have probably not seen anything for ten cents, and you probably haven't seen a tin of alum either.
            "Just find a small container of alum and buy it," were her not so helpful instructions.
            At least the rest of the directions were clear—sort of.  On day four when you layered cucumbers and sugar, you assumed it was granulated sugar and you also assumed that it needed to be enough sugar to form a real layer, not just a mere sprinkling.  She didn't really help me with that one.  "Until it looks right," doesn't help if you've never seen it before.
            But I took that recipe home and went at it.
            Day 1—Wash and slice enough cucumbers to fill a clear gallon jug.  Dissolve enough salt to float an egg in a bit less than a gallon of water (because of displacement), and pour over the cucumbers.  Put on the lid and set aside for 24 hours. 
            It must have taken me 15 minutes to get the salt right.  I kept adding it by the tablespoonful, determined to find a set amount and that stupid egg kept sinking right to the bottom of the pot.  Finally I tossed the tablespoon measure aside and just poured it in.  At something just over a cup, the egg sank under the water, then slowly rose so that a piece of shell the size of a quarter showed above the surface and the egg bobbed up and down freely when I jiggled the pan.
            Day 2—Pour out the salt water and rinse the cucumbers.  Dissolve the alum in the same amount of clean water and pour it over them.  Cover and set aside for another 24 hours.  I had finally found the alum at a small town grocery store just ten miles up the highway.  Even all those years ago, its price had risen nearly 700% to 69 cents.
            Day 3—Pour out the alum water and rinse the cucumbers.  Pour distilled white vinegar over them until covered.  By that third day, they had shrunk enough that the cucumbers no longer filled the gallon jar, and you needed nearly a gallon of vinegar to cover them.
            Day 4—Pour out the vinegar.  DO NOT RINSE.  Sterilize either a gallon glass jar or several pint jars.  Add a layer of pickles and then a layer of sugar, again and again until you fill the jar(s).  Put on the lid and set it in your pantry.  By this time, the pickles are so preserved, you don't even have to seal them!  In a week or two, the sugar will have dissolved and mixed with the vinegar that remains on the pickles and make the sweet pickle juice.  Chill before serving.
            My family loved these pickles.  Some days I put a new pint jar on the table with a meal and it was emptied by the time we finished eating.  And here is the thing I want you to think about today:  it was an old recipe.  It sounded a little odd.  In fact, I had to translate it here and there into something that fit today's ingredients, like a 69 cent tin of alum instead of a 10 cent tin.  But I still had to follow the recipe to a tee for it to turn out right—nothing was intrinsically different about what I did.  And it still worked.  Never have I seen another recipe like it.  No other pickle recipe tells me I don't have to seal them in a canner so that we don't all get botulism.  The procedure preserves them that well.
            God has a recipe too.  People today think it's odd.  They look at it and think it won't work anymore.  They think they can change it and it will still turn out fine.  Certainly no one's spiritual health will suffer if we just change this one little thing to suit us.
            Botulism is a pretty nasty disease.  So is sin.  So is disobedience.  Be careful when you decide that God's old recipe is too much trouble, too hard to understand, or no longer relevant.  I'd hate for you to get fatally ill over it.
 
Thus says Jehovah, Stand in the ways and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way; and walk therein, and you shall find rest for your souls: but they said, We will not walk therein.  And I set watchmen over you, saying, Hearken to the sound of the trumpet; but they said, We will not hearken.  Therefore hear, you nations, and know, O congregation, what is among them.  Hear, O earth: behold, I will bring evil upon this people, even the fruit of their thoughts, because they have not hearkened unto my words; and as for my law, they have rejected it. (Jer 6:16-19)
 
Dene Ward

            Some things are just not supposed to happen.  Sooner or later you will have a flat tire.  Sooner or later your AC will quit on you.  Sooner or later the washer will stop washing and the dryer will stop drying.  None of these things are pleasant, but they all happen to everyone.  When it happens, you groan and then get on with the business of life.  But some things are just not supposed to happen.
            I was putting some things in the refrigerator the other day.  Usually the door swings shut by itself, but this time, as I twisted to get the next item, it swung all the way open.  Then it quietly fell off its hinges and tumbled shelf side down, dumping pickles, olives, ketchup, three kinds of mustard, Worcestershire and soy sauces, homemade jelly, butter, cream cheese, and my super special ordered-from-California eye medicine onto the floor, leaving the rest of the refrigerator wide open and humming.  For a moment I just stood there, stunned.  We have been through several refrigerators—a couple of cheap ones that came with the apartment or trailer we were renting at the time, and a couple of secondhand ones.  But this one was a recommended model we bought new.  Never have we had a refrigerator door fall off, not even the inexpensive or used ones.  Refrigerator doors do not fall off. 
            Don’t you know that is how God feels at times?  We can find several passages where he laments our actions, saying, “This is not supposed to happen,” at least in substance, if not verbatim.  James 3:10 is a prime example:  Out of the same mouth comes forth blessing and cursing.  My brothers, these things ought not so to be.  James tells us we should not bless God and then curse man because when we curse a man made in the image of God, we might as well be cursing God.  Yikes!  That puts another spin on it, doesn’t it?  Understand, we are not talking about using four letter words here, but about maliciously wishing evil upon a person.  We are not supposed to do it--not even to other drivers!  And James acts like we ought to know this without being told:  we should not be cursing men! 
            Unfortunately, we do not know, or willfully ignore, many such things.  We should know God is our Creator and worship him, but for some reason that is hotly debated even among intelligent people.  We should know God’s law; he has made it available and easy enough to understand.  But even in the church we have “seasoned” Christians who cannot find their way from Acts to Habakkuk without getting lost somewhere in Ephesians, and who think John wrote several “Revelations.”
            I wonder if God does what I did the other morning, stand there in shock, staring at a door-less refrigerator, with my mouth hanging open, thinking, “What?  That just doesn’t happen.”  Unfortunately, it does.  You wonder if God is really all that surprised any more.  Tell you what, let’s work on a real surprise for him—let’s make sure we don’t do any of those things from now on.
 
The ox knows his owner, and the ass his master’s crib; but Israel does not know, my people do not consider, Isa 1:3.
Yes, the stork in the heavens knows her appointed times; and the turtledove and the swallow and the crane observe the time of their coming; but my people know not the law of Jehovah, Jer 8:7.

Dene Ward

It’s another Monday.  Am I ready for the week ahead?  If I assembled with my brethren yesterday, and our assembly accomplished the purpose God meant it to when he ordained it, I should be not only ready, bur “revved up and rarin’ to go.”
 
On a Monday, you ask incredulously?  Maybe you did not get out of Sunday what you were supposed to.  So what is the purpose of our assembling together?  It may not be what you have always thought. 
 
I think our best verse is good old Hebrews 10:25, only forget the way we always use it, shaking our fingers in the faces of those who miss services.  Start with the verse ahead:  let us consider one another to provoke to love and good works... exhorting one another... Too often we focus all our attention on the assembly as if that is the whole of our service to God.  What it should be is refueling, so we can go out and continue to serve during the week.  Romans 12:1 is key to understanding this: ...present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  You probably have a version that says "spiritual service," but that word can also be translated "worship,” and sometimes is  The way I live my life, if I live it as and because God wants it, is a type of worship to God, not just those few hours a week.  By compartmentalizing our religion to a certain day, time, and place, we are giving God those lame sacrifices Malachi talks about in Malachi 1:8.  God expects our all, all the time--not just on Sundays.  And he has given us our brethren to encourage us and keep us on the right track when we meet together, provoking one another to love and good works as I go about the rest of the week.  “One another” means we are all doing it, not just the preacher.  Did you do your part to help someone else or did you just go to be entertained?
 
Somehow we think rituals are the only things that qualify as worship.  Many passages in the Old Testament mention the people praying, or singing, or sacrificing, and then "they worshipped," almost as if those other acts were not worship (e.g. 2 Chron 29:29,30).  And maybe there is a point there:  we can do all those things, at the "right time," in the "right place" (translation:  on a pew inside a building with a certain sign over the door), and still not be worshipping.  Worshipping is prostrating the heart before God, not the body, and he expects us to do that all day long, every day.
 
So am I ready to worship God again this week, all week?  If I refueled myself, drained out and changed the old dirty oil and filter, and vacuumed out the grime and dust of life, I should be able to serve God with all my might—whatever level that is in my stage of life at this particular time--and make it through another week in a world that should be foreign to my nature, instead of comfortable.  And then I will be anxious for another day of replenishment next Sunday, because the need will be so obvious to me.
 
Through him then let us offer up a sacrifice of praise to God continually but to do good and to communicate forget not;  for with such sacrifice God is well pleased.  Heb 13:15,16
 
Dene Ward

Keith is the rye bread eater in this house.  His favorite loaf comes from a local bakery/deli that bakes from scratch all the bread it uses for sandwiches.  We stop there and buy what is a huge loaf of marble rye by grocery store standards, for about the same price ounce for ounce.  I have never been able to make a loaf he likes better.  The last time I tried he said he had to think real hard about it to even taste the rye flour.  "But it's good," he hastened to add, while kindly not adding "just not rye."  So I found a new recipe that even has step by step pictured instructions.  I think I will give it a go and see if this one comes closer to his favorite.
            While I was thinking about this loaf today, I realized that you can learn a lot from marble rye.  In the first place, you have four layers of alternate light and dark doughs wrapped around each other in a cinnamon roll type layering, yet each layer stays completely separate from the others.  You don't get a half and half beige mix, but a definite light-dark swirl.  Paul, when he discusses the discipline necessary in 1 Corinthians 5, says at one point, I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people— not at all meaning the sexually immoral of this world, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world (1Cor 5:9-10).  Just as Jesus talks about "letting our light shine before men," Paul recognizes the need to be out in this unrighteous world.  How else can we teach?  How else can we influence people for good?  How else can we serve, if nothing else?  Yet Peter tells us that we must [have] your behavior seemly among the Gentiles; that, wherein they speak against you as evil-doers, they may by your good works, which they behold, glorify God in the day of visitation (1Pet 2:12).  We are among them, but not like them.  We, instead, show them the way, just like my dark rye dough wraps itself around my light rye dough, yet the dark does not affect the light.
            This certainly does not mean that we socialize with them for the sake of socializing only.  When Jesus "ate with sinners," he did so to teach.  Are you teaching those sinners, or simply enjoying their company because they are "more fun" to be around than your brethren?  Are they affecting you more than you are affecting them?
            And then we see the good old leaven principle.  All four layers of my dough, both dark and light, are affected by the leaven in the dough.  They all rise exactly the same way, to the same height, with the same texture.  The light does not get fluffier.  The dark does not become denser.  They become exactly the same.  Leaven can work two ways, either for the good or the bad.  Paul and Jesus both talk about leaven as sin (Luke 12:1; 1 Cor 5:6-8).  Yet Jesus also tells a parable of leaven in a loaf, a loaf representing the kingdom and its growth.  Leaven will do its thing.  It will even create itself if you leave it alone long enough.  That's where sourdough comes from.  Be sure the leaven you are using is the leaven of righteousness, you influencing your friends and neighbors for good, and even your brothers and sisters when they need it, not them influencing you for bad.
            Now back to my kneading…

A little leaven leavens the whole lump (Gal 5:9).
 
Dene Ward

A few weeks ago Keith took the garbage to the dump in the pickup as he has done out here in the country for over forty years now.  It's one of the perks of our rural existence—no Waste Management bill, but that means we take care of it ourselves.  So, since the truck hadn’t been driven in a while, he took it down the straightaway on the way home, a couple miles past our turn-off and back, at highway speed.  A mechanic friend said it was the only way to blow out the pipes, so to speak, and would make the already twenty-four year old truck last longer.
            When he got home he muttered something about "those pesky wrens" and pulled a nest out of the grillwork on the front of the truck.  It was well past nesting season, even for birds that do so more than once, so he assumed the nest was empty.  As he pulled it out and tossed it, two small wrens fluttered to the grass, then half hopped, half flew to the nearest thing off the ground, the big shop fan on the carport.  Almost immediately the mother wren found her babies and shepherded them to the azaleas.  For a day or two we watched as they learned of necessity to fly a little sooner than they had planned, and called Chloe off of them more than once.
            Wrens are known for building nests practically anywhere.  This one may have learned a lesson.  In fact, we wondered between us what must have happened as Keith left the dump and headed down that rural highway, gradually picking up speed.  Somehow I can see two little heads peering over the edge of the nest, looking down the road as the wind tore at their feathers, glancing at one another with eyes wide and mouths agape. 
            "What's going on, Ethel?"
            "I don't know Lucy, but hang on!"
            The sad part is that most Carolina wrens lay four to six eggs.  Even supposing that some of the others had already flown the nest, it's quite possible that a one or two were actually blown away in that wild ride.
            Life can be a pretty wild ride, too.  It's that way because we messed it up several thousand years ago.  God told Adam and Eve they would face hard work, and lots of sweat, pain, and anguish because of their error.  We face the same things, and our part in sin makes it only just. 
            ​You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm. (Job 30:22)
            Sometimes the winds of trial blow so hard we have to hang on by our toenails.  Some don't make it down the highway as far as others, being blown aside by disease or accident or simple wear and tear on a fragile, physical body.  And all of that is a blessing, really, even if we do have a hard time seeing it that way.  When God kicked the first couple out of Eden, their access to the Tree of Life ended.  But who would want to live forever in a sin-cursed world when we can move on to something so much better?
            I think we often get too involved in trying to find a reason when the ride gets rough.  It seems to be the only way we can handle a misfortune.  But sometimes it is not about a bad decision we made.  Sometimes it's because someone else decided to go warm up the tires and exercise the engine and we just happened to get caught in the grillwork.  Time and chance happen to all, the Preacher tells us and that may just be the only "why" there is.  Make the most of it.  The other day Keith came across those two little wrens, hopping, flitting, and flapping in the dust of the dirt floor equipment shed.  They had survived their ordeal and gotten on with life.
            When you reach my age, you find yourself looking back on that daredevil ride you have taken.  You hope you can take a little solace in how you faced it—resolutely, courageously, determined to see it through without whining or complaining too much, without being too embarrassed to look in the mirror and see what you were made of.  Even when the ride is over, the Devil may yet come along and yank you out of the last comfortable place you call home and then what?
            Then you live on the thing that God's people have always survived on—hope.  We seem so busy trying to make this life the reward—when it isn't and never has been for any but the unbeliever—that we seldom talk about hope any longer.  When did you last hear a lesson on Heaven?  Not on what happens after death, something no one can say with any assurance at all anyway, but on what happens when the Lord comes again—the reward for our faithfulness despite the difficulties of this life, despite the roaring winds, the monster of a revving engine trying to gobble us up, the potholes and the bumps in the road.  That reward should be our focus, not this wild ride of a life.  Someday very soon, it won't matter at all.
            "Hang on Ethel!"  Making it through the ride is worth it.
 
When the tempest passes, the wicked is no more, but the righteous is established forever. (Prov 10:25)

Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
I've been teaching through the five books of Moses and after a while it struck me that God seemed just plain meaner and more short-tempered in the Pentateuch than anywhere else in the Bible. 
 
While there is a myth among the ignorant of the "mean" Old Testament God, a light perusal of the Old Testament shows this just isn't so.  God endured rebellion after rebellion of His people with punishments that were quickly rescinded as the people repented.  Although the cycle of sin/punishment/repentance/salvation in Judges is well known, what is sometimes missed is that this occurred over more than 300 years, and, often, fairly localized.  Over those 300 years we see eight or nine periods of punishment for the near constant sin of God's people? 
 
Once kings were established and the northern ten tribes broke away, those ten tribes constantly lived in sin.  First perverting the worship of God, they then turned away from Him to Baal.  And yet God, in His mercy, begged them through prophet after prophet to repent for more than 200 years after "Jeroboam the son of Nebat who made Israel to sin," and more than 100 years after the death of Ahab, who turned them to Baal, before He finally destroyed them. 
 
The southern kingdom of Judah, with its periods of repentance, lasted nearly 120 years more, despite greater levels of sin.  As the end came near, God begged Judah to repent for He did not wish to destroy them (Ezek. 18:31; 33:11).  Truly, the Old Testament shows not a vindictive God, but a merciful God who delayed punishment beyond all reasonable expectation of the people, desiring that "all should reach repentance." (2 Pet. 3:9)
 
But in the Pentateuch?  Wow!  In less than forty years, God plans to wipe out all of Israel and start over with Moses's offspring multiple times (Ex. 32:9-10; Numb. 14:11-12; 16:21).  Since the people had so thoroughly and quickly broken the covenant, He could not be held to it either.  He would get them to the Promised Land to fulfill His promise to Abraham, but He would not go with them (Ex. 33:1-3).  God "broke out against them" many other times in drastic punishments of their sins.  We see the jealousy and vengeance of God more often in the forty year period of wilderness wandering than we do in the rest of the Old Testament combined (maybe a slight exaggeration).  It made me wonder why.
 
Maybe one reason is this:  in every instance of God's wrath we see an instance of Moses interceding for the people.  In Ex. 3:11-14, Moses implored and God relented.  In 32:30 he tells the people they have sinned greatly but perhaps he could make atonement for them.  In 33:12-17 Moses intercedes and God renews the covenant relationship with the people.  Moses intercedes again in Numbers 14:13-19 and in verse 20 God relents again.  This is repeated in Numb. 16:22.  Again, it was Moses who interceded for the people when the fiery serpents came upon them (Numb. 21:7).  Even on a personal level Moses interceded for the people.  When Miriam was struck with leprosy for her rebellion, Aaron did not pray to God for mercy, he begged Moses to intercede (Number 12).  Moses did, and Miriam was healed after a seven day "timeout".   Moses constantly stood ready to intercede between the people and God, even when he was personally wearied by the people's sins. 
 
In Deut. 18:15 Moses prophesies that a prophet will arise "like me" and it is to that prophet that the people should listen.  When discussing this, most look at the fact that Moses spoke to God face-to-face rather then prophesying through dreams and visions and that Moses was the law-giver.  Jesus fulfills these qualities of a prophet like Moses.  He had been face-to-face with God for eternity and is the giver of the perfect law of liberty.  But to be truly a prophet like Moses, Jesus would have to stand between the people and God.  He would need to be ready always to make intercession and turn away the wrath of God.  Lo, and behold, Heb. 7:25!  "Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them." (emphasis mine)  We can stand before God only because Jesus makes intercession.  We live, despite the wrath our sins generate, only because Jesus turns that anger away.  He is the only one who can stand with His hand on the shoulder of both God and man (Job 9:33), as He alone knows what it means to be both God and man.  He embodies this aspect of Moses as well, truly making Him the prophet that was to come. 
 
It is easy, as one reads through the Pentateuch, to see that the burden of intercession bore heavily on Moses.  One imagines that it might be so for Jesus as well.  Let us strive to lessen that burden as much as possible by living lives of righteousness.  One day that burden will grow too great and He will return "rendering vengeance to them that know not God, and to them that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus" (2 Thess. 1:8)
 
Rom. 8:34  "…who is he that condemneth? It is Christ Jesus that died, yea rather, that was raised from the dead, who is at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us."

Isa. 53:12  "Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he poured out his soul unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors: yet he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors."
 
Lucas Ward