Some have called eggs the perfect food with their own perfect container.  I recently heard a TV cook say they are “hermetically sealed.”  Eggshells themselves are stronger than their reputation says.  After all, birds sit on them for days, and it takes a good deal of effort for a baby bird to peck its way out of one.
            However, it doesn’t take more than one instance of carelessness to discover just how easily they will break.  Mine usually make it home from the grocery store in one piece, in spite of being placed in a cooler with a couple of bags of groceries and an ice block, and then traveling thirty miles, the last half mile over a bumpy lime rock lane.  Only once in nearly 30 years have I opened my cooler to find eggs that have tumbled out and cracked all over the other groceries.
            You must also be careful where you put them on the counter.  Most recipes require ingredients at room temperature, so I take the butter and eggs out a half hour or more before I plan to use them.  I quickly learned to put them in a small bowl so they couldn’t possibly roll off the countertop onto the floor, even if I did think I had them safely corralled by other ingredients.  Somehow they only roll when you turn your back.  As I recall, that recipe required a lot of eggs, and suddenly I was short a couple.
            Because of their relative fragility, we have developed the idiom “walking on eggshells.”  When the situation is tricky, when someone is already on a short fuse, we tread carefully with our words, as if we were walking carefully, trying not to break the eggshells under our feet.  Sometimes that is a good thing.  No one wants to hurt a person who has just experienced a tragedy.  No one wants to carelessly bring up a topic that might hinder the growth of a babe in Christ.  Certainly no one wants to put out a spark of interest in the gospel.  But sometimes the need to walk on eggshells is a shame, especially when the wrong people have to walk on them.
            I suppose every congregation has one of those members who gives everyone pause; one who has hot buttons you do your best not to push;  one who seems to take offense at the most innocuous statements or actions.  The shame of it is this:  in nearly every case I can remember, that person is over 50, and most over 60.  “You know old brother so-and-so,” everyone will tell newcomers.  “You have to be careful what you say around him.”  Why is it that younger Christians must negotiate minefields around an older Christian who should have grown in wisdom and forbearance?
            Do you think God has nothing to say about people like this? 
            The vexation of a fool is known at once, but the prudent ignores an insult. Pro 12:16
            Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses. Pro 10:12
            Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his glory to overlook an offense. Pro 19:11
            Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Cor 13:7
            Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. 1 Pet 4:8.
            Now let’s put that all together.  A person who is quick to take offense, who is easily set off when a certain topic arises, who seems to make a career out of hurt feelings is a fool, imprudent, full of hate instead of love, divisive, and lacking good sense.  That’s what God says about the matter.  He didn’t walk on eggshells.
            On the other hand, the person who overlooks insults, who doesn’t take everything the worst possible way, who makes allowances for others’ foibles, especially verbal ones, and who doesn’t tell everyone how hurt or insulted he is, is wise, prudent, sensible, and full of love.  Shouldn’t that describe any older Christian, especially one who has been at if for thirty or forty years?
            So, let’s take a good look at ourselves.  Do people avoid me?  Am I defensive, and quick to assume bad motives?   Do I find myself insulted or hurt several times a week?  Do I keep thinking that everyone is out to get me in every arena of life?  Maybe I need to realize that I am not the one that everyone always has in mind when they speak or act.  I am not, after all, the center of the universe.  Maybe it’s time I acted the spiritual age I claim to be.
            Maybe I need to sweep up a few eggshells.
 
Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. Col 3:12-14.
 
 

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
As I opened the door to let Dene into our car, I felt something rip at my sleeve near the shoulder and felt the scratch on my upper arm. A large dog had lunged through the partly opened window for me. He broke the rain/sun guard over the window. No blood. Not even a real scratch mark. We were at a medical center, where else these days, and I went in to complain at the desk. Part of being deaf means that I am seldom soft spoken and I was still scared and worried, "What if it had been Dene?" When I got back out, I met the man coming from rolling up the window to leave a smaller opening on his little pickup. I said, unnecessarily since he had obviously come from the lobby where I complained, "Your dog almost bit me, did get his teeth on me." He was apologetic, but I just got in our car and drove away. A few blocks up the road, I put my hand on Dene and said, "I sure hope he never comes to church!" Another block or two, "I should hope he does so I can apologize."
 
Now, you know that I know better if you have read any of my devos. I have preached better for 50 years and done better at least as often as not, but, I have a good excuse, in fact, two or three of them. My adrenaline was still high, I have been bitten before, one requiring stitches, whereas, it is evil to leave the windows up in Florida heat with any live thing in the car, a gap that wide for a dog that big and aggressive is inexcusable, etc.
 
But, do you remember WWJD? Bracelets. Yes, Jesus was angry, but not over a personal injury but over indifference to the disease of a fellow and the refusal to believe (Mk 3:5).
 
So, how many people would you be ashamed to have see your car and the partial plate number they remember in your church parking lot? Or, someone who heard how you spoke to your wife? Maybe a co-worker who sees your goof-off work ethic?
 
If my man did walk in, would I have an opportunity to apologize or would he turn and leave when he saw me across the room?
 
We are responsible for our deeds (Mt 16:27).
 
"Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but he who has a hasty temper exalts folly. " (Prov 14:29).
"​A hot-tempered man stirs up strife, but he who is slow to anger quiets contention. " (Prov 15:18).
"Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and railing, be put away from you, with all malice: " (Eph 4:31).
 
Keith Ward

Sometimes you read a passage of scripture for years without seeing what it really says.  I suppose it was only seven or eight years ago that I really saw Gen 21:11.  Sarah had had enough of Hagar’s attitude, and Ishmael she viewed as nothing but a competitor to Isaac.  She wanted to send them both away.  And the thing was grievous in the sight of Abraham because of his son. 

“…because of his son.”  For the first time ever it dawned on me that Abraham loved Ishmael.  Of course he did.  This was his son!  In fact, when God backed up Sarah’s wish with a command of his own, he said, Let it not be grievous in your sight because of the lad and because of your handmaid, v 22.  Hagar had been his wife, (16:3) for eighteen to twenty years, depending upon Isaac’s age of weaning.  A relationship had to be broken, two in fact. 

Now look at Abraham as he sends the two of them away, particularly his oldest son.  Do you have a child?  Can you imagine knowing you will never see that child again, and how it must have felt as Abraham saw their departing figures recede into the heat waves of the Palestine landscape? 

Too many times we look at Bible people with our “super hero glasses” on.  We fail to see them as real people with real emotions.  Of course they could do as God asked.  They were “heroes of faith.”  When we do that, we insult them.  We demean the effort it took for them to do what was right.  We diminish the sacrifices they made and the pain they went through.  And we lessen the example they set for us.

That may be the worst thing we do.  By looking at them as if they were “super” in any way at all, we remove the encouragement to persevere that we could have gained.  “There is no way I could do that.  I am not as strong as they were.  I’m not a Bible super hero.”  If you aren’t, it’s only because you choose not to be. 

Those people were just like you.  They had strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures.  They had problems with family, with temptations, and with fear of the unknown.  You have everything to work with that they did. In fact, you have one thing the Old Testament people didn’t have—a Savior who came and took on the same human weaknesses we all have (Heb 2:17; 4:15), yet still showed the way.  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.  If you belittle the accomplishments of those people as impossible for you to copy, you belittle His too.

Take off the glasses that distort your view.  Instead, see clearly the models of faith and virtue God has set before us as real people, warts and all.  They weren’t perfect, but they managed to endure.  Seeing them any other way is just an excuse not to be as good as we can be.

Brethren, be imitators together of me, and mark them that so walk even as you have us for an ensample, Phil 3:17.

Dene Ward

Wrens are known for building nests in odd places and we have a couple who have proven the point.  They can’t seem to help themselves when it comes to building nests.  And fast?  In less than an hour they are ready to set up housekeeping.   Anything that is left open and alone for that amount of time is fair game.
            We’ve found nests in boxes of empty mason jars in the shed, and on the lawn mower seat under its protective tarp.  We’ve found them on the bristles of the push broom which hangs upside down near the ceiling of the carport.  We’ve found them in roof gutters, and draped plastic sheeting.  We’ve found them in flower pots, tomato vines, and empty buckets.
            We usually buy dog food in 50 lb bags at the feed store and keep it stored in a large plastic garbage can in the shed.  We carry Chloe’s daily allotment in an old three pound coffee can, which we then shove sideways on the handlebars of the old exercise bike until the next day’s feeding.  Last month we found a wren’s nest in that can, obviously built after Chloe had been fed the day before, hanging precariously, rocking in the breeze. 
            Immediately Keith duct-taped it more securely to the handlebars so it couldn’t be blown or jostled off, and found another old can to use for Chloe’s feed.  It has become something of a joke now—remember to put up the [whatever] before the wrens find it.
            This doesn’t happen just once a year.  The mother wren incubates the eggs for about 2 weeks and then both parents feed them until they can fly, about two weeks later.  Often, the last few days of feeding, the father takes over completely so the mother can start another nest.  In our Florida climate, they often build a third nest after that one.  They are like little nest-building machines—wherever they can, whenever then can.
            Isn’t that the way we should be about the gospel?  Too many times we’re out there making judgments about where to sow the seed instead of strewing it about everywhere we can.  We decide who will and who won’t listen and worse, who we deem “worthy” to hear.
            That certainly isn’t what Jesus did.  He taught dishonest businessmen and immoral women.  He taught the upper class and the lowest of the low.  He taught the diseased and the disabled, as well as the hale and hearty blue collar workers.  He taught people who wanted to hear and people who just wanted to make trouble for him.  Shouldn’t we be following his example?
            Too many times we worry about the reception we will get.  When Jesus sent out the seventy, he didn’t say, “If you don’t think they’ll listen, then shake the dust off your feet and go elsewhere.”  What he said was, “If they don’t listen,” which means everyone had a chance to decline if that is what they chose to do.  We can’t seem to stand the possibility of rejection, not an auspicious trait for disciples of the one who was “despised and rejected of men.”
            We should be like wrens, speaking about our faith anywhere, even the most unlikely places, to anyone, even the most unlikely people.  Over and over and over, like we can’t help ourselves, like our lives depended upon it, because maybe they do.
 
Therefore I testify to you this day that I am innocent of the blood of all of you, for I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God.  Acts 20:26-27.
 

 

Today's post is by guest writer Doy Moyer.

Justice is a common desire. When someone has committed a terrible act against another, we want to see justice done. We know there is something wrong about someone getting away with a criminal offense. Consequently, societies have systems in place in order to try to bring about justice for the offended. Since they involve humans and human governments, these systems are imperfect. We don’t always get the resolution that we desire, and sometimes we err. Yet we continue trying because it is the right thing to do. 

If we, as human beings, desire justice, then how much more shall we think that God desires justice? God was certainly concerned about justice under the Law (cf. Exod 23:2, 6; Deut 10:18; 16:19; 24:17; Isa 1:17, and… so much in the prophets!). His desire is, always, that His people “do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). 

Unlike mere human beings, however, God knows the way of perfect justice. He knows the beginning from the end and knows the hearts of all. He sees what we cannot see, knows what we cannot know, and has the perfect wisdom and understanding to carry out judgment and justice without the finite flaws of imperfect societies. Consequently, when God brings judgment, it will be right. We may not always be able to understand or see why God judged a nation at a particular time, but those calls are His right to make. Our lack of knowledge and understanding hardly constitutes reason to call God into question over His judgments. God owns life and death (Deut 32:39). He is the Creator, the Potter, the King, and the Judge. 

Abraham understood that God had the right to judge the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah. He pled with God, to be sure, hoping that God might spare the cities if only only ten righteous people could be found. “Far be it from you to do such a thing, to put the righteous to death with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” (Gen 18:25) He was calling upon God’s just nature, hoping to spare his own family from what was about to happen. The ten could not be found. Yes, the Judge of all the earth will do what is just. He will make no mistakes in carrying out justice so it should not surprise us when God finally brings down the gavel. 

Why would God bring such judgment? When human beings are violated, we rightly want justice. Again, how much more ought God to desire justice, especially when He has been violated? This is the nature of sin, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23). Sin violates the nature and glory of God. Just as crime against other humans violates human rights, God has “divine rights,” and these are violated when we sin. In detailing the sins of God’s people, Isaiah said that they were being judged “because their speech and their actions are against the Lord, to rebel against His glorious presence” (Isa 3:8, NASB). 

Shall we, then, think it right that we would “get away” with crimes against the Almighty Creator? Shall we think to remove His divine right to judge? Should we think that He is out of place for bringing justice and doing so perfectly with complete wisdom, knowledge, and understanding? He could do it with the nations and He can do it with us. One day, there is, indeed, a final day of judgment coming. As Paul told the people of Athens, God “commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.” (Acts 17:30-31; cf. 2 Cor 5:10)

This can be rather frightening, especially when we realize that our crimes against the Divine Glory, when met with justice, means suffering “the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might” (2 Thess 1:9). 

Yet here is where the Gospel becomes so powerful. God Himself stepped in, took on human flesh (John 1:14), and suffered as a sacrifice on our behalf so that He would be both “just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus” (Rom 3:26). By doing this, He does not give up being just while forgiving the sins of those who turn to Him. His justice stands. His holiness stands. His glory stands. His grace is magnified. To God be the glory! 

God’s right to judge is established by the fact that He is the Creator. Just as human beings expect justice when human rights are violated, so God brings about justice due to His divine rights beings violated. He does this with perfect knowledge, wisdom, and power. Will the Judge of all the earth do what is just? 

He already has, and He always will. 

Doy Moyer

Taken from Doy's blog, Searching Daily

When we lived in another state many years ago, we had two hydrangeas, one flanking each side of the patio steps.  I loved those plants.  They took little care and for that meager effort produced huge balls of blue blooms all summer.  So I decided a few years ago to plant a couple here.
            I understand that there are white hydrangeas that are supposed to be that way.  They are often used in weddings, which seems appropriate and lovely.  But most hydrangeas are not supposed to be white.  Instead, the color of their blooms depends upon the pH of the soil.  If there is plenty of aluminum in the soil, you get blue blooms.  If aluminum is lacking, you usually get pink. 
            If you do not get the color you want, you can change it yourself.  Mix one tablespoon of aluminum sulfate per gallon of water and use it during the growing season.  (Be sure the plant is well-watered beforehand or you could burn your plants.)  If you prefer pink blooms, use dolomite.  I really don’t care if I get pink instead of blue, but I did not want white.  White is what I got.
            Some people can’t seem to make up their minds about serving God.   They show up on Sunday morning, but you would never know it if you saw them the rest of the week.  Their dress, language, recreation, and opinions match the world around them.  Like God’s people of old, they “fear the Lord, but serve other gods,” 2 Kings 17:33.  Instead of being either pink or blue, they try to be neutral, thinking it will help them get along with both sides.
            Jesus addressed their descendants in Matt 6:24--“You cannot serve two masters,” something we often try to do ourselves, giving our time and energy to the material and only the leftovers, if there are any, to the spiritual.  That is why our prayers are often useless.  We know we aren’t pink or blue, so we pray with “doubt,” like the “double-minded man, unstable in all his ways,” James 1:6-8.
            That wasn’t the end of passages I could find.  “How long will you go limping between two sides?” Elijah asked in 1 Kgs 18:21.  “Choose this day whom you will serve,” Joshua demanded, 24:15.  The Lord doesn’t want white hydrangeas any more than I do.  He wants people who can make a decision and stand by it, people who care enough to go all out, not just dabble.  We cannot be wishy-washy.  “If you aren’t with me you are against me,” he told the disciples, Luke 11:23. 
            One of my hydrangeas has finally developed a light blue tint.  Then I got my acid and alkaline colors mixed up and had Keith put hydrated lime on it.  So tomorrow it may turn pink.  But it really doesn’t matter—one or the other, pink or blue, just not white.  I didn’t plant it to get some neutral color, and that isn’t why God put us where He did either.
 
I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth. Rev 3:15-16
 
Dene Ward

We talked once before about the need to teach facts as well as attitudes.  You have nothing to base your attitudes on if you don't have the facts.  But there is one real problem with facts-only teaching.  You can know the story of the Good Samaritan so well you can quote it, but can you put feet to it?  Can you look at your own life and apply it to your situation?  Over and over I have taught the lives of various women in the Bible only to have an entire class look at me with a blank stare when I ask how it applies to their own lives.  If we want people to learn this skill, we need to start teaching it to them as children. 
            Keith and I are team-teaching a class.  When we went over the Parable of the Sower (or the Soils), by the time we had finished they could tell you about each soil in depth.  So the next class, I wrote descriptions of different people, giving these imaginary people the sort of names their own friends and classmates have to make them seem more real, and asked, "Which soil is she?"  "Which soil is he?"  Once they got the hang of it, they could answer with only a few seconds thought.  Finally I had them do it.  "Tell me how someone would act if he were…" fill in the blank with whichever soil you care to name.  They did very well.  I had to laugh though when we asked, "What would someone look like if he were good soil?" and one of them answered, "Us!"  I hope he is correct, and at least at this point, I think he is.
            This past week we tried something else.  First I had them name various things Jesus taught in short phrases:  love your enemies, let your light shine, enter the narrow door, do unto others etc., and be wise as serpents— you can easily come up with more.  Then I handed each a situation they might someday be facing if not in exact detail, then something similar.  We asked them what they would do in that situation and what thing Jesus taught had led them to that solution.  They gave us good solutions to the problems.  The difficult thing was finding something in Jesus' teaching that would have helped them know what to do.  As we talked together, if we mentioned one they could instantly see how that tenet of teaching informed the situation.  They could also see that sometimes there was more than one right way of handling the situation and not to be judgmental if someone did something else as long as they did not sin.   We will be repeating this activity again and see if things are improving.
            As many times as Keith has visited fallen away members and read passages to them only to be faced with that same blank stare, I wonder if maybe it's time to give us grown-ups a dose of the same medicine.  Don't think for a minute this is kids' stuff, but maybe if we taught our children this way, there wouldn't be so many adults who are clueless about, as we so often have heard prayed, "applying these things to our daily lives."  That is certainly what God expects us to do.
 
For it is written in the Law of Moses, “You shall not muzzle an ox when it treads out the grain.” Is it for oxen that God is concerned? Does he not certainly speak for our sake? It was written for our sake (1Cor 9:9-11).                                                                                          
 
Dene Ward

When I was a child I learned quickly that meeting with the saints was more important than anything else I might like to do at the given time.  My earliest memories of our faith are sitting in my mother’s lap while my Daddy led the singing, and then sitting on the front pew with him when my little sister came along and usurped my throne.  On Sunday and Wednesday we went to services.  Every night of every gospel meeting we went to services.  Every time the people of God met together, we met with them, and neither convenience, nor school functions, nor social gatherings of any kind got in the way.  As soon as we found out there was a conflict, there wasn’t one, because my parents taught us that nothing and no one was more important than God. 
            Nowadays it has become fashionable to not only dismiss the assemblies as unimportant, but to talk about anyone who thinks they are as “Sunday morning Christians” at best, and Pharisaical hypocrites at worst.  That was not true in my family.  In my house at least, the assemblies were object lessons:  if you won’t do this easy thing for the Lord, will you ever do anything more difficult? 
            My parents lived their lives the rest of the week as godly servants of others, visiting the sick, cooking and carrying food to those who needed it, showing hospitality, sending financial support to preachers in need, buying supplies for poor churches they had heard about, and keeping themselves pure from the worldliness that surrounded them, even when it made them unpopular with their extended family, neighbors, and co-workers.  And they also taught their children to follow in their steps, children who have now taught 9 grandchildren and 8 great-grandchildren, beginning early on, that gathering with God’s people is important.  All the accountable ones are faithful Christians seven days a week.
            Do you think God’s people have ever thought that the assembly rituals were the only thing there was to their religion?  The Law of Moses was intricately bound up in the everyday lives of God’s people.  It wasn’t just “Remember the Sabbath to keep it holy,” and nothing else.  Sacrifices were required for various times in their lives, the birth of children, death in the family and other times of uncleanness, sin offerings, and thanksgiving other than the mandated feast days.  Harvest time meant remembering to leave the corners and the missed crop behind for the poor.  It meant time for tithing the increase.  The Law pervaded their lives and these things were done any and every day of the week. 
            Even in Jesus’ time the people led lives of worship.  The Pharisees fasted twice a week, not on the Sabbath but on Monday and Thursday, ordinary weekdays.  Jewish families lined the doors and walls of their houses with scriptures—the original post-it notes.  Their lives revolved around the feast days, which demanded making extensive travel plans and saving money for the trip all year long.  They had rabbis in their homes to ask them questions and hear them teach.  That’s how Jesus often wound up among them. 
            All these people worshipped throughout the week, but it wasn’t the instant cure for hypocrisy some seem to think, was it?  Many of those labeled hypocrites by the Lord looked down on others for not being as enlightened as they were.  Sort of like folks today who think they are better than anyone who dares utter the phrase “Sunday worship service.”
            Perhaps these people should get off their high horse and follow the Lord’s example.  Even if they don’t think the assemblies are important, Jesus did.  Where was the first place we find him seeing to “His Father’s business?”  He met with God’s people in the synagogues all the time, and synagogue worship was only a tradition, not something included in the Law.  He attended the feast days, including the one which was simply a civil holiday.  He taught the apostles to do the same.  Paul went to the synagogues expecting to find there the best prospects for the gospel—imagine that!  Too bad some of our more informed brethren couldn’t be there to teach him better.
            Of course Sunday morning isn’t all there is to it.  God never meant it to be, but don’t become an unrighteous judge of people who believe it is important.  That’s how a lot of us learned about serving God, not only by being there for the Bible study, but by putting it first over every other worldly thing in our lives, even if they weren’t sinful things.  Babes must crawl before they can run. 
             Hebrews commands us to consider one another to provoke one another to love and good works.  That’s what we do when we meet together.  It isn’t love to look on your brethren with contempt, and that’s what I am seeing in these prideful attitudes of instant dismissal when anyone speaks of our gatherings as “worship.” 
            Seems to me, someone needs to be provoked a little more.
           
Acts 1:13,14; 2:1; 2:42; 2:46; 6:1-3; 14:27; 20:7; 1 Cor 5:4; 11:17-28; all of chapter 14; Heb 10:23-25—the reasons we gather.  I will let you choose the one you think is most important.  Better yet—read them all.
 
Dene Ward

We raised pigs when the boys were growing up.  A pig a year in the freezer went a long way toward making our grocery bill manageable, everything from bacon and sausage in the morning to chops and steaks on the supper table, ribs on the grill, and roasts and hams on our holiday table.  The first time the butcher sent the head home in a clear plastic bag and I opened the freezer to find it staring at me nearly undid me though.  After that Keith made sure to tell them to “keep the head.”
            We bought our pigs from a farmer when they were no more than 30 pounds.  That created a problem that usually the boys and I were the only ones home to deal with.  Once the pigs were over 100 pounds they could no longer root their way under the pen, but those young ones did it with regularity, especially the first week or so when they had not yet learned this was their new home and they could count on being fed.  More than one morning I went out to feed them and found the pen empty, spending the remainder of my morning looking for the pig out in the woods.
            One Wednesday evening when Keith had to work, the boys and I stepped outside to load us and our books into the car for the thirty mile trip to Bible study, only to see the young pig, probably 40 pounds by that time, rooting in the flower beds.  We spent the next forty-five minutes chasing it.  You would think three smart people, two of them young and agile and me not exactly decrepit in those earlier days, could corner a pig and herd him back to the pen.  No, that pig gave chase any time any one of us got within twenty feet of him, and they are much faster than they look.
            You see things in cartoons and laugh at the pratfalls exactly as the cartoonist wanted you to, knowing in your mind that such things never could happen.  When you chase a pig you find out otherwise. 
            Once we did manage to corner the thing between a fencepost and a ditch and Lucas, who was about 12, leapt for him with his arms outstretched.  Somehow that pig managed to move and Lucas landed flat on the ground on his stomach while the pig ended up trotting past all of us on his merry way, wagging his head in what looked like amusement.
            Another time Lucas actually got his arms around the pig’s stomach, but even an un-greased pig is a slippery creature.  Nathan and I never had a chance to grab on ourselves before it was loose again and off we all ran around the property for the umpteenth time, dressed for Bible study by the way, which made the sight much more ridiculous, especially my billowing skirt.
            We never did catch that pig.  He simply got tired and decided to go back into the pen.  I had opened the gate and as he trotted toward it, we all gratefully jogged behind him, winded and filthy and caring not a hoot that it was his idea instead of ours.  Still, he had to have the last word.  Instead of going through the open gate, at the last minute he ran back to where he had gotten out in the first place and slunk under the rooted out segment of the pen.  Then he turned around and looked at us.  “Heh, heh,” I could almost hear with the look he gave us.  We shut the gate, filled in the hole, loaded up the feed trough, and went inside to clean up, arriving at Bible study thirty minutes late and too exhausted and traumatized to learn much that night.
            God is a promise maker.  He has given us so many promises I could never list them all here.  We have a habit of treating those promises like a pig on the loose, like something we can’t really get a good hold of, certainly not a secure one. 
            I grew up in a time when it was considered wrong to say, “I know I am going to Heaven.”  Regardless the fact that John plainly said in his first epistle, “These things I have written that you may know you have eternal life,” (5:13), actually saying such a thing would get you a scolding about pride, and a remonstrance like, “Let him who thinks he stands, take heed lest he fall!”  We were too busy fighting false doctrine to lay hold of a hope described as “sure” in Heb 6:19.  
            That word is the same one used in Matt 27:64-66.  The priests and Pharisees implored Pilate to make Jesus’ tomb “sure” so his disciples could not steal the body and claim a resurrection.  He told the guards, “Make it as sure as you can.”  Do you think they would have been careless about it?  Do you think there was anything at all uncertain about the seal on that tomb?  Not if you understand the disciplinary habits of the Roman army.  It is not quite as obvious because of the different translation choice, but the Philippian jailor was given the same order, using the same word, when Paul and Silas were put in prison:  “Charging the jailor to keep them safely [sure],” and he was ready to kill himself when he thought they had escaped.
            That is how sure our hope is--“an anchor…steadfast and sure.”  It isn’t like a pig we have to chase down.  It isn’t going to slip through our fingers if we don’t want it to.  Paul told the Thessalonians that “sure” hope would comfort them, 2 Thes 2:16.  How comforting is it to be fretting all the time about whether or not you’re going to Heaven?  How reassuring is it to picture God as someone who sits up there waiting for you to slip so He can say, “Gotcha!”  That is how we treat Him when we talk about our hope as anything less than certain.
            I never knew what to expect when I stepped out of my door the first few weeks with a new piglet.  If we hadn’t needed it, I would not have put myself through the anxiety and the ordeal.  Why in the world would anyone think that God wants us to feel that way about our salvation?
 
…in hope of eternal life, which God, who cannot lie, promised before times eternal, Titus 1:2.
 
Dene Ward         

"Some might say that God can’t withdraw his word today thanks to Gutenberg; after all, we have Scripture, the Word of God, in writing—and fifty-eight kinds of study Bibles available from evangelical publishers. But God can still ‘take away’ his word. He may take away the desire for it or interest in it. Who can doubt that this judgment may well be upon the church … in the West? Our people know more about [the latest pop singer] than the book of Ezekiel. In my part of the USA most professing Christian men know more about Southeastern Conference football than they do about the Psalms. We abuse—and then lose—the Word of God."

(D.R. Davis, "Micah," 67)