May I just make a small observation from years of experience on both sides of the equation?  When you are suffering, when you are broken-hearted, when you are in pain and anguish or full of fear, someone who loves you will inevitably make an insensitive comment, a tactless comment, a mind-numbingly stupid comment.  Do you think they do it because they don’t love you any more?  No, just the opposite—they do it because they hate to see you in such pain, because they want more than anything to comfort you, and in that love and zeal they don’t know what to say, so the wrong thing pops out.

I can make you a list of things NOT to say in various circumstances.  Why?  Because I have had them said to me in an assortment of painful circumstances in the past several decades.  You are not the only one who has been left with a hanging jaw and a shaking head.  And second, I can make that list because I have said a few myself.  I have friends who have miscarried, who have lost spouses early, who have lost children to accident or disease, whose marriage has fallen apart, who have been the one to discover a mate’s suicide, who have suffered the pain of a horrible disease and its ultimate end, and probably every time I have said something I wished I hadn’t.  I try to remember those times when someone says something similar to me—they love me as much as I loved my friends or they would never have tried.  They would have simply walked away.

And so I will never make one of those lists that regularly make the rounds—“What Not to Say When…”  In fact, I am getting a little fed up with them.  Those lists seem to imply that the person hearing those words has never said anything dumb themselves, that they would automatically do better.  Pardon my skepticism.  I have known some wise people in my many years, but none of them has ever managed to be perfect in their choice of words every time.  I doubt that anyone in their twenties or thirties or even forties has either.  Should we be willing to learn better?  Yes.  But most of what I have heard has come in a scathing, sarcastic tone meant more to lash out than help someone else learn.

God expects me to act like a Christian no matter what I am going through.  Did Jesus bark at His disciples the night before His death, a death He knew would be so horrible that He “sweat drops as blood”?  Did He browbeat the women weeping before the cross while He hung there in agony?  If anyone could have been excused for snapping back, it would have been Him, but the example He left was one of grace under pressure. 

As His disciple I must still be longsuffering, no matter what I am going through.  I must “forbear in love.”  I must “bear all things, believe all things, and hope all things.”  Certainly I must be willing to say, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do,” if the thing they do comes out of a heart full of love.  It is difficult when, as the Psalmist said, My days pass away like smoke, and my bones burn like a furnace. My heart is struck down like grass and has withered; I forget to eat my bread. Because of my loud groaning my bones cling to my flesh. I am like a desert owl of the wilderness, like an owl of the waste places; I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop, (102:3-7).  I have been there.  On those days, it is difficult to put up with other people’s blunders.  It is, in fact, difficult to deal with people at all.  I am ashamed of my failures and so grateful to my caring friends and family who still showed me their love, even when I didn’t show mine and probably made them wonder why they kept bothering to try.  But I am not going to excuse myself because of my despair by attacking them with a scornful list of their failures.

God does not put in an exception clause for when we are hurting.  Like His Son, we must still exercise self-control and love, graciously accepting the comfort that those who care sometimes ham-handedly give.  Even afflictions that have nothing to do with suffering for His name can test us as much as persecution can, just in how we handle them.  Isn’t that, in fact, the real test?  Pain is never an excuse for sin.

For hereunto were you called: because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow his steps: who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth: who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered threatened not; but committed himself to him that judges righteously: 1 Peter 2:21-23.

Dene Ward

“Mommy, those green blackberries burnt my mouth.”

We were picking peas in a field behind a member’s farmhouse late one afternoon.  We had just moved to the area and had not had time to plant our own garden, so we were happy to do all the free U-picks our brethren offered.  Nathan, who was only 13 months old, was playing up at the house under the watchful care of the grandmotherly farmwife.  Three year old Lucas wanted to come “help,” so he trailed along behind us, picking a pea pod every so often, but usually exploring.

It took a minute for what he had said to register.  Then, with a knot of fear growing in my stomach, I calmly asked, “What blackberries?  Show me.” 

He led us back about twenty feet, to a place in the fencerow.  Instead of blackberry vines, we saw a four foot high green plant, with spade-shaped leaves and round green berries—nightshade.  We dropped our buckets, pulled the plant, scooped him up, and headed for the nearest emergency room, thirty miles east.  As soon as we arrived, Keith dropped me at the door.  I ran in and practically threw both Lucas and the plant on the registration desk. 

“My baby ate this,” I managed between gasps.

I had found the trick to immediate action in an emergency room.  They ran both him and the plant back behind the swinging doors.  I, of course, was taken to Paperwork Central—they never forget the documentation so they will be paid.  It probably did not help that I had come straight from the field, sweat, dirt, and all, and so did not look particularly solvent.

Two hours later we left with a completely sobered three- year-old, promising us he would never eat green blackberries again.  As far as I know, he hasn’t!

So why are we so much less careful about the poison that sickens our souls?  Spiritual nightshade surrounds us every day of our lives.  Somehow we think we are immune to its effects.  We go places we should not, associate with people we should not, dally with things that are as dangerous as a poisonous snake, and pooh-pooh anyone who dares tell us to be careful.

I am not just talking about things like alcohol and sexual immorality.  Do you realize that wealth in the scriptures is never pictured as anything but dangerous to our souls?  But what do we wish for when the subject of wishes comes up?  And what do we always say?  “I could handle it.  I would never use it the wrong way.  It would never get the best of me.”  What do we tell our young people when they say the same things about drugs and alcohol? 

Arrogance will always get the best of us in all these cases.  Might as well handle a cobra.  Might as well drink some cyanide. 

Might as well eat a pie made of green blackberries.

For [the] rock [of the wicked] is not as our Rock...For their vine is of the vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah; their grapes are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter.  Their wine is the poison of serpents and the cruel venom of asps, Deut 32:31-33.

Dene Ward

Today’s post is by guest writer, Keith Ward.

What could Cain have been thinking?  Why kill Abel?  Detectives look for motives and usually trace them to money or sex.  The record shows that neither played a role in the first murder.

Both Cain and Abel brought offerings to God.  God respected Abel’s offering but not Cain’s.  Cain was upset and depressed over this and God said, “Why are you angry and why is your countenance [face] fallen?  If thou doest well, shall it not be lifted up?” (Gen 4:6-7).  From this we can infer at least two things: first, Cain had a great desire for God’s approval and second, God had told Cain and Abel what to do.  Even a human father would not tell his son, “If you do right, I will reward you,” unless the son had been told what the right way was! Thus, Abel offered in the way God describes as “doing well,” but Cain offered in another way and was rejected.

Though he was unwilling to do things God’s way, Cain still wanted God’s approval.  As there were only two of that generation in the world, it must have appeared to Cain that if Abel were taken out of the picture, God would have no other choice but to accept him.  Besides, no man likes to be upstaged by his little brother.  In his wrath over being rejected and in his desire to be approved by God, Cain slew Abel.  It seems so tragic--how much simpler to just do things God’s way and live in peace.

Following God’s rules is called “walking by faith” (2 Cor 5:7; Heb 11).  Today, many people still seek to gain God’s approval without the sacrifices involved in walking God’s narrow way. They look just fine to themselves and to each other; they may even congratulate themselves on being “better than average.” They are religious and sincere.  What more could anyone ask? Usually, they are even admired by the “average” folks.

Then appears a righteous man who obeys God’s word exactly from a sincere heart.  As a result, like Cain’s, others’ offerings are exposed as inadequate.  If Abel could do it right, Cain could have also.  If a man can live “holily and righteously,” walking by faith in all the ways of God, then so could these “religious” men.  All too often they go the way of Cain and kill the righteous – by slander, by persecutions, by mockery, by ostracism.  Why not repent and follow the example of the “Abel?”  Because “their works are evil;” they are set in their hearts to do things their own way. The Cains see the Abels as an accusation against their religion, label them “narrow,” “bigoted,” “judgmental,” “legalistic,” and thus they seek to justify themselves.

Researching Bible history appears to establish that everyone is a Cain or an Abel.  Not everyone actually murders an Abel, some “just” applaud, or stand by indifferently.  Insofar as meeting God’s standard is concerned, being an Abel is not so difficult, but it takes much courage—there are a lot of Cains in the world….and many that are innocently called, “brother.”

By faith Abel offered to God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain, through which he was commended as righteous, God commending him by accepting his gifts. And through his faith, though he died, he still speaks. Hebrews 11:4

Keith Ward

I wonder how many of us are so enamored by what we consider a “beautiful” love story, that we miss an even better one.  It really should tell us something when we read that Jacob loved Rachel because of her looks.  Since when do we teach our children that outer beauty is all that matters?             

After the marriages, Leah had children almost immediately.  Rachel, of course, wanted children too.  Her first resort was to demand them of Jacob, Give me children or else I die!  Gen 30:1, as if a man who had already fathered at least four were at fault.  Am I being overly critical or doesn’t she sound as childish as a little girl threatening to hold her breath if she doesn’t get her way?

Then she gave her handmaid to her husband (v, 3) for in that culture, the children of one’s handmaid were legally your own, and the family already had precedent for such a thing in Hagar.  Of course that was less than satisfying, especially since her sister could do the same. 

Then she resorted to mandrakes, the local aphrodisiac of the area, v 14, not too surprising from a woman who would steal her father’s household gods, I suppose.  As you go through chapter 30, pay special attention to the names of the children, what they mean, and what each mother said when they were born.  That speaks volumes in itself. 

Finally Rachel went to Jehovah.  We really have no record of her doing that, but let’s give her the benefit of the doubt since the scriptures do say and God hearkened to [Rachel] and opened her womb, v 22.  Still, her attitude is shown when she greets that child with Jehovah, give me another one! and names her son that very sentiment, “Joseph,” may God add, v 24.  Compare that to Leah who, when she named Judah, and called to her son every day afterward, was “praising” Jehovah.

Is that how we treat prayer as well, a last resort?  Does God only hear from us when we get desperate or scared or so distressed that we finally realize we have no other hope for a happy ending?   Do we demand help from God, then angrily complain when that prayer, which may be the first we have prayed in a week or a month or even longer, does not accomplish what we want?  And when we finally do get the desired answer, do we act entitled and fail to express any gratitude at all?  After all, we serve God and therefore He is supposed to take care of us, right?  If we don’t get what we want, why should we bother?

Ultimately, Jacob seems to have learned who the better wife was.  When Rachel died, she was buried where she fell, even though it was only a day’s walk from the family burial plot at Machpelah.  Jacob himself expected his sons to carry his body back all the way from Egypt.  And hear what he says about that:  there they buried Abraham and Sarah his wife, and there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife, and there I buried Leah, Gen 49:31.  Jacob wanted to be buried next to Leah, the woman he had chosen to place in the family tomb.  Finally, he could see a beauty that mattered.  I imagine his change of heart had a lot to do with their shared faith in God, and their recognition that He was responsible for every good thing they had.  (Study those names!)  And didn’t God choose Leah as well?  For it is evident that our Lord has sprung out of Judah, Heb 7:14, who was Leah’s son.

God will notice our faith, our desire to talk with Him, our recognition of His providence and care.  Prayer is not about entitlement, but gratitude. 

Oh give thanks unto Jehovah, for his lovingkindness endures forever.
Oh give thanks unto the God of gods, for his lovingkindness endures forever.
Oh give thanks unto the Lord of lords, for his lovingkindness endures forever.
Psalm 136:1-3

Dene Ward

Whenever someone asks how I am doing these days, I usually find myself saying, “All right.”  I understand that “How are you?” is generally a greeting, not a question, but most of the time people are really asking, and I do not want them to be sorry they did.  “All right,” seems to answer the question in all respects without beginning a litany of troubles. Things are not good and may never be again, but I am not now in the middle of another crisis.

Look at that phrase carefully, though.  “All right.”  Isn’t it odd that it has come to mean that things are not “all” right?  Not actually bad, but certainly not “great.”

Do you remember the poem “Pippa’s Song” from Robert Browning’s Pippa Passes?  Actually, all I remember is the last line: “God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world.”  The context of that poem is interesting.  Pippa is an orphan in a crime-ridden neighborhood in Asolo, Italy, where even the pillars of the community live lives of moral decadence.  Yet her viewpoint is that, despite all the evil in the world, we can still know that God is in his Heaven, and thus everything is “all right,” in the true meaning of those two words, not their presently understood mediocrity.

Especially if we interpolate a word in there, “God’s back in his Heaven and all’s right with the world,” we Christians can know the same thing. 

God, who became the Son, left Heaven for us, going so far as to give up his equality with God the Father, Phil 2:6.7, suffering the same trials and temptations we do in life, yet refusing to give in to sin, Heb 4:15.  He died a torturous death, Acts 2:23.  Then, just as Satan thought he had won the ultimate victory, it was snatched out of his hands when Jesus rose from the dead, 1 Cor 15:1-8.  Forty days later he ascended back into Heaven, Acts 1:3,9.  And all of that happened so we could be forgiven, so we could live an abundant life here (a spiritual abundance), and so we could have Eternal Life in the hereafter.

So remember today and every day, regardless how your life is going, regardless how you may feel, regardless the horrible tragedies Satan may have unleashed around us, “God’s [back] in his Heaven, and all’s right with the world.”

Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight of sin that so easily besets us, and run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God, Heb 12:1,2.

Dene Ward

On March 4, 1865, Alexander Gardner photographed Abraham Lincoln at his second inaugural.  “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right,” Lincoln said that day, “let us strive on to finish the work we are in—to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for his widow and his orphans; to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations.”

There in the photo behind him stands his betrayer, John Wilkes Booth, the man who would shoot him in the head at Ford’s Theater just over a month later on April 14, right after the intermission ended and the play, “Our American Cousin” began again.  It seems ominous that Booth would have been in that picture--some speculate the he had intended to do the deed that very day--but by definition, betrayers are always somewhere close to the ones they will betray, looking for an opportunity.

If there had been a camera invented that Passover night 2000 years ago, don’t you think you would see Judas there, dipping his bread with Jesus, perhaps sharing a smile or warm word with a fellow apostle?  I am not certain when Booth made his plans to murder his leader, but Judas that night already had his plans made.  In fact, Jesus sent him off to carry them out.

Usually we don’t have cameras going on Sunday mornings, but if we did, I wonder how many betrayers would be caught communing with their fellow disciples and their Lord?  Do you take the Lord’s Supper planning to go out and continue in sin the next week?  Do you already have it on your calendar?  Will you leave His presence and refuse to confess your faith in Him before your friends and acquaintances?  Will you sigh and give in just because the fight is long and hard and you don’t like what it will cost you to win?  Do you simply approach the week with absolutely no plans of how to thwart the enemy and his lures, stumbling like a fool straight into his hands?

How many of us take the bread that represents “the body” God “prepared” for Him to live in an ignominious life (Heb 10:5), then refuse to present our own bodies in a living sacrifice every day?  How many of us take the juice that represents the horrible death He died, then refuse to crucify ourselves so He can live in us?  How many of us sit with Him weekly in this family meal, then go out and act like someone else’s brothers instead of His?

If God took a picture of us all on Sunday mornings, which ones of us would be called the Betrayers?

A man who has set at nought Moses’ law dies without compassion on the word of two or three witnesses: of how much sorer punishment, do you think, shall he be judged worthy, who has trodden under foot the Son of God, and has counted the blood of the covenant wherewith he was sanctified an unholy thing, and has done despite unto the Spirit of grace? For we know him that said, Vengeance belongs unto me, I will recompense. And again, The Lord shall judge his people. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Hebrews 10:28-31

Dene Ward

If there is one thing Keith taught our sons, it is how to work.  Living on five acres with a huge garden, several animals, and a wood-burning stove for heat, but only rakes, shovels, hoes, a wheelbarrow, and a push mower to work with—no, it was not self-propelled, and we had no tractors or other power equipment—meant they had chores that had to be done or the family suffered.  They certainly did not appreciate the lesson then, but they have thanked him several times since they left home and entered the work force.  More than once their bosses have told me, “I wish I had a store full of your boys.”

Lucas, my older son, spent some time in management with a large grocery chain.  He often laments the workers he has to deal with, who have no sense of responsibility, showing up late or not at all, who never anticipate needs, never see what needs doing on their own, or who simply lollygag around with no sense of urgency or efficiency.  The saddest ones, he says, are the young ones who really want to do a good job, but whose parents have never taught them how, either by assigning chores, or actually expecting them to be done well and on time.  The ones who irritate him the most are the ones who think showing up and clocking in means they are working, even if all they do is stand in the halls and talk.

God has called us to work in his vineyard.  I am sure he is patient with those who need to learn how to work.  But some treat their job in the vineyard as an entitlement that precludes any notion of actual labor.  As long as they clock in (submit in baptism, show up on Sunday morning—choose your application), they are “earning” their paycheck.  We have forgotten that the only “wages” we can earn is death.  Eternal life is a precious gift, and how we work in the vineyard is directly proportionate to our gratitude for it.  Am I standing in the halls talking, or am I wearing myself out laboring for the Lord?

Let us therefore labor to enter in that rest, that no man fall after the same example of disobedience.  Heb 4:11

Dene Ward

We had a pleasant surprise this year.  Besides the usual wrens’ nest in every odd place you can imagine, we had two hawks’ nests.  Two!  Hawks are very territorial, but they had set up their nests on opposite sides of the property, one just inside the east fence, and one just inside the west fence, as far from each other as they could possibly be and still be in our property.

We have learned a lot about these birds and knew when to start listening for baby hawk noises.  Finally one morning we realized the mother was no longer in the east nest.  We peered long with the binoculars and called up to the nest.  Nothing.  A few days later we finally saw the dirty white downy baby head and the big black eyes.           

After another week the baby sat up tall and we had a clear view for the first time.  It isn’t a hawk—it’s an owl!  A barred owl.  Although they usually have one or two siblings, this one appears to be an only child.  Its mother usually sits nearby on a low branch in a live oak arching over the creek, a two foot high chunky brown and gray bird with a round head and no ear tufts, horizontal bars across its shoulders and vertical streaks running down its chest.  In the evenings she flies to the garden and sits on a tomato post, just as the hawks have done for years now, occasionally swooping down to the ground to find dinner for the nestling. 

The hawks have hatched now as well, two downy white babies that sit in the nest and peer over at me when I make the trek to the west side of the property to talk with them.  Both of their parents sit nearby when they aren’t out hunting up food, circling above and screaming their distinctive cry.

We could talk about those parents and the care they give—in fact, I have done that before.  We could talk about the way the father watches over the mother as she sets, bringing her food, then taking his turn to set when she needs a break.  We’ve done that too.  Today, I want to talk about this:  I can’t possibly watch both nests at once.  I have to walk the entire long side of the property to see one, and then back to see the other.  I have often seen the hawks as they first learn to fly.  I may miss that this time around if I am watching the owl learn to fly on the same day.  So?

Have you ever heard someone say, “I know God has more important things to deal with than my little problems?”  Is this supposed to be an excuse for a poor prayer life?  Is it supposed to be a proclamation of humility?  What it winds up being, if you think about it, is a lack of faith in the ability of God.  I can’t watch two nests, but God can.  Of the sparrows Jesus says, “Not one of them is forgotten in God’s sight,” (Luke 12:10).  Then he adds, “Fear not.  You are of more value than many sparrows.”  Not only does God consider my small problems important, He wants me to tell Him about them.

The pagans of the world create gods they can understand based upon their own feelings.  The ancient Greek gods were the height of pettiness, malice, and cruelty.  Why?  Because the humans who created them imputed those far too human characteristics to their personalities.   We do exactly the same thing to God when we put Him in the box of our own human understanding.  “I know God has/does/thinks/feels…” is the height of presumptuousness.

It is not for us to be describing God in any manner in which He does not describe Himself.  “I just know God would never…” may be the most obvious way we limit God, but it is not even the most common.  Even in our zealous attempts to be reverent by inventing words like “omniscient,” we are guilty of limiting Him to our own ability to understand.  God is Eternal—you cannot quantify an Eternal Being because you cannot even comprehend Infinity.  He is “able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think” Eph 3:20.

Simply let His Word describe Him and our (in)ability to comprehend Him.

Behold God is great and we know him not, Job 36:26.

"Can you find out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limit of the Almighty? It is higher than heaven--what can you do? Deeper than Sheol--what can you know? Its measure is longer than the earth and broader than the sea, Job 11:7-9.

Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable [immeasurable], Isaiah 40:28.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts, Isaiah 55:8-9.

God thunders wondrously with his voice; he does great things we cannot comprehend, Job 37:5.

Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! "For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor?" Romans 11:33-34.

It is not my place to figure out what God is doing or why, or even the possibilities of His power—He says it’s impossible to do so.  It’s not my business to decide whether my problems are big enough to bother Him with—He says to bother Him.  It’s not my business to decide what He might say or not say, do or not do, think or not think.  To do that is to limit Him to my understanding and to be a disrespectful child who thinks he deserves an explanation from a Sovereign Creator.  He has told me everything I need to know.  Reverence means I just accept that.

When I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to see the business that is done on earth, how neither day nor night do one's eyes see sleep, then I saw all the work of God, that man cannot find out the work that is done under the sun. However much man may toil in seeking, he will not find it out. Even though a wise man claims to know, he cannot find it out, Ecclesiastes 8:16-17.

Dene Ward

Being married to a law enforcement officer who is also a certified firearms instructor means you get free shooting lessons—whether you want them or not.  I have learned many things, and used them—just ask the snake community in this area.  I am sure they know all about the crazy lady who shoots till they quit wiggling.

I also learned that even handguns, especially big handguns like Keith’s .45 magnum (think Matt Dillon) can have a kick. I haven’t dared try it because of my experience with his smaller .357 revolver.  I am a pianist.  Good pianists use their wrists like shock absorbers—they go down as you approach the keyboard and pull up the instant the key has been struck.  That is what creates a smooth, warm tone rather than a harsh, jarring one.  A loose wrist is a must for pianists, but is not good when you are shooting a big gun.  For one thing, the recoil on a loose wrist hurts; for another you nearly give yourself a black eye with the barrel as it swings back at you.  I simply cannot seem to keep a stiff arm when shooting!

That may not be something you need to worry about since most of you are not pianists.  But a basic rule for everyone is:  if you want to hit the target, you have to aim at it first.  You would be surprised how many do not aim correctly—it’s all about sight alignment.  But even that presupposes that one has the sense to aim at the target.

Unfortunately, many of us do not have that kind of sense when we attempt to become better people.  An old saying goes, “Aim at nothing and that’s what you will hit every time.”  We go around “trying to get better,” or “trying to do better,” but we will never be better till we can answer the question, “Better at what?”  Unfortunately, that means we have to ditch the pride and actually list our faults—specifically, not generally.  And when we mess up, we must be willing to acknowledge it.

I have heard this statement all my life, usually from people who have been Christians a long time:  “If I have done anything wrong, then I’m sorry.”  That’s supposed to be a confession?  What that is, is someone who knows better than to claim perfection, but who thinks he has it anyway! 

Here is my chore today:  make a list of my faults and weaknesses--specific problems I have.  It may be obvious things like lying, gossiping, drinking, or losing my temper.  But it might also be things like being oversensitive, assuming the worst about people, holding a grudge and trying to get even—treating people the way they treat me.  Whatever I list, pray about them, find some scriptures that deal with them, and meditate on those.  At the end of the day, make an honest assessment of how I did and [probably] pray for forgiveness.  Keep at it every day.  Make a note of the particular circumstances that cause me to fail.  When I see them beginning, get away if I can.  If it is impossible, immediately slow down and think before every word or action.  And always remember:  The Lord is at hand [right next to me], Phil 4:5.

That is a lot to do, especially every day.  But remember—the only way to hit a target is to aim at it.  God bless us all as we try to become what He would have us be.

Wherefore also we make it our aim, whether at home or absent, to be well-pleasing unto him.  For we must all be made manifest before the judgment-seat of Christ; that each one may receive the things done in the body, according to what he has done, whether it is good or evil.  2 Cor 5:9.10

Dene Ward

Tarragon is a difficult herb.  It’s even hard to find at the local garden shops.  You have to go to the independent, specialty shops where everything costs twice as much.  Then when you get it, it’s hard to grow.  Not only is the flavor delicate, so is the plant.  I have killed more than my share of these fragile babies. 

But speaking of delicate flavor, it is almost paradoxical that something so delicate is also so distinctive.  Like cilantro, you know when a dish has even a hint of tarragon in it, but at the same time it won’t take over.  Tarragon in a chicken salad makes it a main event, and I have a pork chop recipe with tarragon cream sauce that turns that mundane diner staple into fine dining.

As I said, I usually wind up killing whatever tarragon plants I manage to find.  I always thought it was the heat, but maybe it’s me.  Somehow, last year’s plant survived until frost.  Then I got another wonderful surprise.  This spring it came back from the root.  I didn’t believe it at first.  It looked like tarragon, and it was in the same spot as the plant last summer, but I still didn’t believe it—not until I pinched off a leaf and smelled it.  Yesssss!  This year I don’t have to comb the garden shops looking for another one to kill.  It’s right there in my herb bed, waiting for its execution day.

Speaking of these sorts of things, I find it bewildering that people get themselves so wrought up over whether or not the Lord’s church existed somewhere in hiding in the Middle Ages.  Maybe it did; maybe it didn’t.  Maybe there actually was a spell when no one alive even bothered trying to follow the New Testament pattern.  Why should that affect my faith?  The seed is the Word of God, Luke 8:11.  We still have that seed.  We can still plant it and it will produce after its own kind, just as God ordained for every seed from the moment He created the first one. 

Sometimes we keep leftover seeds in the freezer.  If we had a bumper crop and I put up way too much corn, I may not plant any the next year, or even the next.  But when I get that seed out, as I did a few weeks ago, we can plant it again, and lo and behold there is now corn growing in the garden, a few silks already turning brown. It will happen every time we plant that seed, no matter how long it’s been since the last time we planted it.  The same will happen when we plant the Word of God, the seed that produces Christians.

And what’s more, we still have the Root, and that’s even better.  As long as the gospel exists and we can preach about that Root, the one who came to earth, lived as we do, died, and rose again, faith will spring up from that Root, and the Lord’s body will once again exist. 

Why is this so surprising?  Why indeed should it bother me one way or the other if I trust God?  He ordained this rule.  Who could ever undo it?  And Abraham believed God and it was reckoned unto him for righteousness. (Rom 4:3).  Do you believe Him?

And again Isaiah says, "The root of Jesse will come, even he who arises to rule the Gentiles; in him will the Gentiles hope." May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:12-13

(For this recipe, go to "Dene's Recipes" page)

Dene Ward