At 6:03 pm CDT on May 31, 2013, a wedge tornado developed just south of El Reno, Oklahoma, and within a half hour grew to be the widest tornado ever measured at 2.6 miles across, with the damage swath spreading another mile further out.   The highest speeds recorded were 302 mph, and the fastest the storm traveled over land was 50 mph.  It dissipated at 6:42 pm CDT.  Eight people had been killed, all of them in vehicles, some trying to wait it out as it passed by, and three who were storm researchers whose white Chevy Cobalt was overtaken before they could get away.  I cannot even imagine being so close to a storm like that on purpose!  Once, about 40 years ago, we were closer than I ever want to be again, and it wasn't even that big.
          We awoke that Saturday morning to ominous gray skies and strong winds.  The forecast for the day made it dangerous to be out, so we called those we had invited for a singing that afternoon and canceled.  Instead of walking to the paper box, about a quarter mile down our driveway, Keith drove the car, and as huge, plopping raindrops began falling, parked it next to the front door when he returned so he would not get too wet.
            A few minutes later, he looked out the window by the table where he sat reading the paper and sipping a cup of coffee.  Something in his manner made me look too, but I didn’t see anything. 
            “Get the boys,” he said very quietly, “and go crouch down in the middle of the house.  Cover your faces.”  I did exactly as he said, unquestioningly.  He grew up in the Arkansas mountains, and he knew about things I had no experience with.  A few minutes later it was all over with.  What “all” was, I still did not realize.  The power had gone out, but we were still intact. 
            We stepped out of the house, and the hay barn across the field no longer had a roof.  Several water oaks and wild cherry trees were down on the long driveway to the highway.  A large chinaberry had fallen right where the car had originally been parked before he decided to drive for the paper instead of walking.  It would have been flattened if he had parked it there again.
            Then we edged around the corner of the house on our bedroom side, and saw the worst of it.  A huge live oak had split.  Half had fallen on the power lines, but the line was still alive, wiggling and sparking on the ground.  The other half, its roots mostly out of the ground, leaned right over our bedroom.  We had no idea how long it would hold before it too fell and demolished our house.
            We called the power company immediately and they rushed out to take care of the live wire, but they had too many other calls to send someone to handle the tilting tree.  We would have to wait our turn.  Word gradually spread down the highway, and within an hour, two men who worked timber drove up with cables and chainsaws, and those two men, who were complete strangers to us, took the tree down safely and with no damage.  We thanked them profusely.  “That’s what neighbors are for,” they said, and off they went.
            A preacher friend who had been invited to the sing never got the message to cancel.  He showed up amid the raucous roar of chainsaws, and heard the whole story.  It impressed him enough to include it in a lesson on prayer and providence.  The people in the audience were not impressed.  Afterward they took him aside and scolded him.  “God does not act in the world today,” they told him.  He was astounded, and so were we.
            When we become so intent on exposing false doctrine that we blatantly ignore the truth, swinging the pendulum so far back that we miss it entirely, something is wrong with our perspective.  If God had no hand in what happened that day, then why do we bother to pray at all?  Do we not believe James? 
            “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much,” 5:16. 
            Do we not believe the book of Esther or the last 14 chapters of Genesis?  “God sent me,” Joseph told his brothers who had thought it was all their idea, and God continued to “send” Joseph through Potiphar’s wife, the baker and butler, and eventually Pharaoh himself.
            God spent much of the prophets talking about how He would work through the enemies of Israel.  “Ho Assyrian! The rod of my anger!  The staff of my fury is in his hand,” Isa 10:5.  God sent those Assyrians to punish Israel, just as certainly as He sent those two lumberjacks to save my home.  He did it because of the prayers I started the moment I saw that look in my husband’s eye, the moment I crouched on the floor trying to shield my little boys with my own body, the moment we saw that tree clinging to the pitifully few clods of dirt left on its roots.
            I will never believe otherwise.  In fact, why do we bother if we don’t believe it?
 
The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them. Psalms 145:18-19
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go (Josh 1:9).
 
People have used this often lately for an encouragement. They are reading it as God commanding Joshua to be strong and courageous. Dare I suggest that this may not be the intent of the passage?
 
God had just commanded Joshua to go take the land of promise. So now he says that since HE commanded, Joshua should be strong and full of courage in fulfilling that command. He should not despair at the odds or be worried at his own limitations. God commanded it; therefore trust Him to see you through it.
 
Often we worry about the details. Robert Turner called it “Whittling on God’s end of the stick.” If God commanded it, we need to get busy and do it. We need not count the size of our treasury or despair at our inabilities. God commanded it. He will take care of the rest if we will just get off our duffs and DO IT!
 
 
  Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.  I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me. Phil 4:11-13
 
Keith Ward

If you read through the histories of the early church, especially during the persecutions, you will see that everyone found the behavior of Christians totally inexplicable.  Despite pain and death, they never acted the way people expected them to act.  They did not denounce their Savior, and the ones who survived did not try to avenge their mistreatment.
            God’s people did not suddenly become pliant and merciful in the first century.  It began long before.  David is a prime example in his careful treatment of Saul, a mad king who was out to destroy him.  Maybe that is where the little maiden learned her first lessons about mercy.
            We do not know exactly when, how, or where, but a band of Syrian soldiers raided an Israelite town and took many people captive, among them a little girl.  Eventually she wound up in the home of Naaman, the captain of the very army who kidnapped her and possibly even killed members of her family, serving his wife.  I don’t know how old she was, but she was probably far older in mind and actions than children her age nowadays because of what she had been through.  She was old enough to remember her homeland and to know about the power of God and his prophet Elisha.
            Soon she discovered that her new master had leprosy, a disease so dreaded in her own country that the people who had it were sent away and quarantined.  What would you have thought?  “Good!  Serves him right.  Get him, God.”  I can easily see those thoughts going through my mind, especially if the last view I had of my home was painted with the blood of my family.  What was the last thing you wanted to “get even” with someone about?  Can it even hold a candle to what this girl must have experienced?
            But no, she tells her mistress, Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy, 2 Kings 5:3.
            Excuse me?  This man is an enemy of God’s people, at that time a physical kingdom with physical enemies.  God’s standing orders often included wiping out those enemies.  Yet she wants to save this man, who could easily kill more of God’s children?  She was obviously too young to know what she was doing.
            But Elisha wasn’t.  And God certainly knew whom he was healing as Naaman dipped himself into the Jordan River.  This was no mistake caused by a naïve child.  The mercy she showed was exactly what God wanted of her.
            And so the unexpected result, mercy from a captive toward her captor, made for yet another unexpected result.  Naaman, the heathen army captain, said, Behold now I know that there is no God in all the earth, but in Israel, v 15.
            Sometimes in our zeal to fight for God, we forget that He knows best.  When will we ever learn that with God, we should expect the unexpected?
 
You have heard that it was said, you shall love your neighbor, and hate your enemy: but I say unto you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you; that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven: for he makes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.  For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the publicans the same?  And if you salute your brethren only, what do you more?  Do not even the Gentiles the same?  You therefore shall be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect, Matt 5:43-48.
 
Dene Ward

I will apologize in advance.  I am going to have a little rant this morning.  About white boards.
            I have despised the things ever since they began to be used by most churches.  What I don't like about them may not bother you a bit, but please hear me out.  You may never have considered some of these things, and while I understand that my vision is completely different from 95% of the rest of you, I do know that other people have these issues to some extent.
            First there is often a glare as they reflect the overhead lighting.  That glare can obliterate parts of the board completely, a different part for each person, depending upon where he sits in the room.  You must admit, a blackboard doesn't do that.
            Second, there is another glare issue involved in a white background.  If the letters are not thick and bold, the white part of the board will "bleed over" and cover them entirely, especially as we sore-eyed people have to squint against all that bright, uncompromising WHITE.  This time, I admit that may only be my problem because of the many hours of surgery I have endured with my eyes taped open under bright lights.  For me and maybe others who have had even a couple of eye surgeries, white letters on a black background (like a blackboard) is the easier way for me to see what you have written because the background isn't so glaring.  And I assume you do want me to see it since you took the trouble to write it down.
            Third, the dry erase markers produce such a narrow line that they can only be seen a few feet away—unless you have excellent vision.  For me, white chalk on a blackboard adds a good five or six feet to my vision.  In a classroom that's a lot.
            Fourth, those pretty colored markers diminish the ease of seeing the letters by about 50%.  Don't ask me why, but colored chalk on a blackboard doesn't cause the same issue.  If you simply must use a white board, please throw away those colored markers!  I don't care how pretty it is—I care if I can see it.
            And fifth, erasing those markers takes a lot of elbow grease sometimes.  If you use the colored ones, sometimes they will never disappear.  A blackboard?  Well, you will occasionally have to go beat the erasers out and rinse off the board, but most of the time you can never tell what was written before once it has been erased.
            But that brings up the lesson for today.  The white board I have to use at the Ladies' Class these days is no longer white.  I can even tell what a teacher wrote last year because I see the faint shadow of the letters.  Yes, we have cleaned it.  Three of us have sprayed on that special cleaner and scrubbed till our arms ached, each trying to show the other one it can be done.  Guess what?  It can't!
            When we forgive, we have a tendency to forgive like a white board erases.  That faint little marking is still clear enough in our minds to keep the memory fresh and easily brought back to life.  "I'll never forget when she…" some might say, and there you see it—the shadows on the white board that are still there.  "There he goes--again…" others might say, and we see that their so-called forgiveness was a sham.
            God doesn't forgive that way.  When he wipes the slate clean, it is completely bare—no faint markings or shadowy blurs, no chalk dust, nothing remaining at all.  Except when we don't forgive.  Then we have this promise:  For if you forgive people their wrongdoing, your heavenly Father will forgive you as well. But if you don’t forgive people, your Father will not forgive your wrongdoing (Matt 6:14-15). 
            White boards—I hate them!  But they do this one thing very well—they teach me how to forgive.
 
Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool  (Isa 1:18).
 
Dene Ward

We traded cars not long ago.  This one has a few new gadgets on it. You can raise and lower the driver’s seat, as well as pull it forward or push it back.  You can position the steering column up or down, in or out.  Unfortunately I had not yet learned how to do that the first time I climbed in to drive when Keith was at work.
            Instead of sliding onto the seat, I fell into a hole.  If the seat was not actually sitting on the floorboards of the car, it was close.  As I tried to slide my legs under the steering wheel, I realized that it was practically resting on the seat.  I sat for a minute fumbling around, and never found the right button, knob, or lever to fix anything.  Needless to say, my driving experience that day was far from relaxing.  Every time I got in, I fell in, squeezed under the steering wheel, and then spent the entire drive doing pull-ups on it so I could see where I was going.
            All of that is because Keith is nearly six inches taller than I, and apparently his favored driving position is sitting on the floor with his knees up around his ears.  That is why they make those seats movable—no two people are the same size and shape, and we all have our own definitions of comfort.
            We tend to forget that with one another in the church.  Depending upon when we first came into contact with the gospel, and the background we brought to the baptistery, we are all in different places in our faith and understanding.  While the New Testament strongly hints that God has put a timetable on our learning (“when by reason of time you ought to be teachers”), it may not be my place to judge your progress.  True, if one has been a Christian forty years and still craves the milk of the word rather than the meat, there just might be a problem, but most of my impatience with my brothers and sisters has little to do with circumstances so obvious.
            The job of the priest under the old law was to bear gently with the ignorant and erring for he himself also is compassed with infirmity, Heb 5:2.  Aren’t we all called priests of God under the new law, (1 Pet 2:5)?  And Paul says to the weak I became as weak so that I might gain the weak, 1 Cor 9:22.  He did not look down his nose at one who did not yet have his knowledge and comprehension of the plan of God through the ages. 
            When the church is growing spiritually and has reached a point that change in its traditions becomes expedient for the progress of the gospel, some people have problems with it.  They are stuck in a place where traditions in their minds have become laws.  It becomes more difficult for them to change those things.  Are we patient in our teaching?   Do we make ourselves “weak” by understanding how difficult this is for them, and so guide them along with compassion? 
            Mind you, we are not talking about changing the rules of the road or even how a car operates.  You must still drive on the “right” side of the road.  You still have to press the accelerator to go and the brake to stop, but some of us shift gears smoothly and automatically, while others need to do it manually, slowly and methodically, one gear at a time. 
            I usually see all those cars that impatiently pass me a little further down the road.  Sometimes they sit on the shoulder with another car behind them, flashing its blue lights. Other times I quietly pull along side of them at the next stoplight as we both obey the law, idling in our separate lanes.  So he got there ten seconds ahead of me—big deal. We both followed the rules and ended up in the same place.
            We must patiently show one another how to move the car seat so we can all more easily see down the road, so none of us is left sitting in a hole, awkwardly doing pull-ups on the steering wheel, trying to see where he is going.
 
We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves.  Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.  For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, the reproaches of those who reproached you have fallen on me, Rom 15:1-3
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Rebekah Craig.  (The dorm she refers to is a place where she lives while working at CEI Bookstore, and thus the Dorm parents are the homeowners.  dw)
 
Yesterday morning we found out that what we thought was a nasty head cold in C-Dorm (affectionately coined by a friend), was the infamous COVID virus herself. It suddenly made a lot of sense why Dorm Dad has not been himself. Over the past year, our household has brushed by the virus, even up close and personal, but we somehow managed to make it through the whole year without contracting it. You would think that after a year of exposures, consequent on and off quarantines, and having to cancel and reschedule plans, that it would be a breeze. Even though I wasn't upset at anyone and certainly don't blame anybody, it left me particularly unsettled and self-concerned.

"But what about all of the plans I have coming up?"
"But...my routine."
"But I thought we were invincible."
"But this will throw us all off."
"I was just starting to hang out with people again."

While I tried to adjust to the cold-water change of routine that happened in the middle of the day yesterday, the well-known passage in James sat in the back of my mind. I finally sat down and read it today:

"Come now, you who say, 'today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade a make a profit' -- yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, 'if the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.' As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin." (4:13-17)

If I were to outline this passage in a way that is relative to me, as if I were reiterating something James told me personally, this is how I would do it:

--I hear you have plans for today and later and you're feeling pretty sure about
them.
--Just remember, you don't know what tomorrow holds.
--In this life, your life is as transient as a mist or vapor.
--It is good for you to rest your plans under the assumption that God's plans are always bigger and more important.
--Otherwise, you're being prideful in yourself.
--You know what is the right thing to do, so do it always, no matter what changes or circumstances arise, otherwise, it is the same as sinning.

I think that opportunities like quarantines show us the importance of having work to do and for crafting routines and making plans. But it's also humbling because it shows us that no matter what we decide to do, there are forces at work our of our control that can pin us down when we want to be moving. Our plans become like the steam out of a tea kettle, instead of the concrete securities that help us sleep at night. Our sense of purpose feels threatened, instead of solidified in our personal accomplishments.

I think it's interesting that in the following passages, James admonishes the rich, talking about the temporal nature of their materialistic wealth, and how they "lived on the earth in luxury and in self-indulgence." (5:5) Later, James admonishes the brethren as a whole, to be patient like a farmer who waits for the fruit to grow, and to "establish" their hearts (5:8).

What does this tell me, that James is first calling a person's life a misty vapor, and then admonishing these same people to be like a farmer? Aren't these two examples entirely different?

They're compatible, because the fleeting nature of my life is a reality. The patience of the farmer is an attitude. When I rest my hope and security in plans I have made for myself, I am leaning on a distorted reality. Consequently, patience will not be my knee-jerk reaction. I'm more likely to be anxious, troubled, and prideful, and totally disregard the good that I can do in an unexpected situation. When I have the mindset of a farmer, someone who prepares the field, sows the seed, nourishes the seed, and waits for growth, I know that there will be frosts and storms and animals and all kinds of elements that will come in and try to undo the work and progress I've made. But in establishing my heart in the Lord, I will be ready to do what I know is good, come what may.

"...you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful." (5:11)

God's plans are bigger and layered with more grace and compassion than I could ever imagine. So let's grab the plow and dig where he wants us to dig, and wait when he wants us to wait.
 
Rebekah Craig

If you are under 50, this will take some explaining.
            Back in the "olden days," as my boys used to call them, you only got a couple, or maybe three channels on your television set—usually one each of the Big Three national networks back then.  And none of this hour long set up and downloading and hooking up to satellite dishes or cables.  You bought the thing, you took it home, you plugged it in, turned it on, and, voila! you could watch TV.
            One more thing you had to do was unfold the antenna, usually two metal rods, telescoped inside themselves.  You pulled out each rod to the desired length, then moved them around until the picture cleared up.  They usually wound up in some sort of V, which accounts for the name you might have heard your parents or grandparents use, "rabbit ears."  Depending upon how far away you were from the station, or in which direction it lay, your antenna might look more like an L than a V, or one side might be much shorter than the other.  Once you figured it out, you just remembered that ABC was a perfect V, CBS was an L that looked like nine o'clock, and NBC was an almost perfect straight line—or whatever configuration yours needed to get each channel.
            Everywhere we lived we got all three channels, but one was always a little snowy.  Sometimes it had ghost images.  Sometimes the horizontal and vertical holds wouldn't "hold."  In fact, we had one that we had to whack on the top to get the vertical hold to work.  And here is where the tin foil comes in.  Sometimes you had to take a square of aluminum foil (I have no idea why we all called it "tin foil") and wrap it around one arm of the antenna, creating a shiny silver flag on one end.  Sometimes it took one on each arm of the antenna.  And usually, when the person putting it on walked up to the TV, the picture improved so dramatically that we all shouted, "Stop!  Don't move!"  But of course, we couldn't expect anyone to stand perfectly still for the entire program, especially if his arms were halfway up ready to wrap the foil flag in place, and most especially if he couldn't watch the show himself during that time.
            I am sure that sounds incredibly primitive to many of you younger folks.  I am told that the reason the foil flags worked was that they increased the bandwidth of the antenna and the aperture so you could receive more of the incoming radiation.  Sounds like so much gobbledy-gook to me, but it did work.  Which leads us to today's lesson.
            Upon occasion, some have asked me if saying a prayer silently really counts.  If you will check out the 57th and 59th psalms you will see that they are described as "Maskils," and were prayed when David was hiding from Saul in a cave.  While most of those Hebrew designations for specific psalms are unknown, some scholars will make what amounts to "educated guesses."  C. H. Bullock suggests that "maskil" might refer to "silent prayers."  Most of the time Jews prayed aloud—it was the custom.  But at least once, when David was hiding in the back of a cave, Saul was sleeping in the front of the same cave.  Praying aloud might have defeated its purpose!
            When we try to lay restrictions upon prayers, our stance, their wording, and their occasion, I wonder if we aren't being a little like people trying to put tin foil on antennas.  We keep thinking we can make the reception better.  God doesn't need tin foil flags on your prayers to hear them.  His end of the matter works just fine.  It's more a matter of what you need on your end--a receptive soul, a humble spirit, a penitent heart.  It might come at a time when praying aloud would be inappropriate or simply impossible.  You don't have to worry.  He can hear those prayers just fine.  No snow.  No ghost images.  No problems with vertical holds or horizontal holds.  Just a crystal clear picture of a Father who loves you and a Lord who died for you, two Beings who want to hear from you every chance they get.  If David can pray silently, crouched in the back of a dark, dank cave, trying his best to breathe quietly and stay absolutely still, it seems to me that God is not nearly as picky as some of my brethren are.
            Just pray, folks, silently or aloud, standing or lying, in whatever words your heart needs to say.  I guarantee you won't need a box of tin foil to be heard.
 
 And it shall be said, “Build up, build up, prepare the way, remove every obstruction from my people's way.” For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite (Isa 57:14-15).
 
Dene Ward
 

A new series by our guest writer, Lucas Ward
 
"In the Orient a name is more than an identification.  A man's name is not only descriptive of its bearer, it may stand as the equivalent to his very nature and individuality. . .  The names of God as they are revealed in scripture serve to depict His person and His attributes."  J. Barton Payne, The Theology of the Older Testament. 
 
Following Dr. Payne's thought, I decided to see what I could learn from an examination of God's names and titles as revealed in the scriptures.  I found not only the normally known names and titles of God, but many self-descriptions as God taught His people about Himself.  Let's start by examining the more commonly known names.

Elohim.
This is simply the Hebrew word for deity.  It not only refers to the Lord, but is used of idols and all false gods.  Scripturally, the word elohim becomes defined by who God is, the true Elohim.  Meaning deity, this just emphasizes that God is the boss, the one in control.  As you likely already know, elohim is a plural word, with el being the singular word for god.  Hebrew doesn't have superlatives (-er and -est) and so often uses repetition and plural words for singular nouns to indicate greatness or majesty.  It is not an early hint of the Godhead, but rather the method the Israelites used to emphasize how great their God was.

El Shaddai.
"God Almighty" was the characteristic divine name used by the patriarchs, e.g. Gen. 17:1.  This is the Overpowering God, the creator, the flood sender, the God who confused the languages at Babel.  The All Mighty God.

El Elyon.
"God Most High"  This is the descriptor given by Melchizedek in Gen 14:18-19 after Abraham defeated the kings from the north.  Most High shows that there is none with more authority than He.  God is the sovereign Lord of all creation and all nations. 

El Olam.
"The Everlasting God", from Gen. 21:33, just points to the eternal nature of God.

YHWH.
This is the Name God gave Himself in Ex. 3:14 when Moses asked.  Unlike the previous entries, this is not a title or descriptor, but the chosen Name of God.  Older translations of the Bible transliterated this as Jehovah, probably erroneously.  Newer scholars guess that the pronunciation is closer to Yahweh.  Far less important than the pronunciation is what the name stands for.  I AM THAT I AM probably does not refer to God's eternal self-existence, as we have often heard from the pulpit.  Instead it likely refers to God's continued activity in the lives of His people.  J. Barton Payne says that the flavor of Ex. 3:14 is closer to "I AM Present is who I AM", while Walter Kaiser paraphrases it as "I AM the God who will be there."  As this is the name God always invokes when referring to the covenant relationship between Himself and His people, it makes sense that the Name itself reminds of His continued active presence.
 
So what we have so far is that our God is, indeed, God.  He is the highest authority, the most powerful of all, and He is eternal.  Finally, He chose a name for Himself that emphasizes His relationship with His people.  Despite His power and lofty status, He is the God who cares. 
 
This also shows through in the self-descriptions God uses and the testimonials of His closest followers.  For example, in Gen. 15:7 God identifies Himself to Abram as "the God who brought you out from Ur of the Chaldees".  Moses declares Him the God who will go before and "will himself fight for you".  (Deut. 1:30).  He is the God who will keep his covenant and will display lovingkindness.  (Deut. 7:9).  He is the God who delivers from enemies, saves from calamities and pardons iniquities (Judges 8:34, 1 Sam. 10:19, Micah 7:18).  Most often God identifies Himself as the God who brought the Israelites out from the bondage of Egypt.  That self-description is used at least 16 times in the Old Testament. 
 
From all of these descriptions, we learn of a God who maintained a relationship with His people, who fought for them, looked out for them, forgave them and freed them from slavery.  These self-descriptions show us a God who is active and present in the lives of His people.  This is not the absent God of Deism, nor some mystical force, but a Personal God who cares and is active in our lives and who actively looks out for us. 

Over the next several entries we will examine a few of "the God who" passages in which God reveals Himself through self-description and see if we can't come to a fuller understanding of the person of the God we worship and serve.
 
1 Peter 5:7  "casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you."
  
Lucas Ward
 

When we have trouble finding our blessings:

The prayer of Matthew Henry, after being robbed:  I thank Thee first because I was never robbed before; second, because although they took my purse they did not take my life; third, because although they took my all, it was not much; and fourth because it was I who was robbed, and not I who robbed.

Courtesy of Warren Berkley, berksblog.net

Wives of probation officers learn to live with a lot of things, including fear.  As certified law enforcement officers their husbands regularly go alone into neighborhoods that well-armed policemen will not enter without back-up.  Yet they do it on a regular basis to keep track of their caseload, making sure they are where they are supposed to be and not out getting into trouble again.  Keeping the community safe by supervising convicted felons is their job.  They knock on doors every day, never knowing who might answer, or what condition they might be in (drunk, high, angry) and what they might be carrying with them.  Yes, it’s illegal for them to have a weapon, but they broke the law already, remember? 
            One of the other rules for the probationer is never to go near their supervising officer’s residence.  Most of them have no idea where their officers live anyway, and the office is not allowed to pass out that information, but when you live in a tiny rural county where practically everyone is related to or otherwise knows everyone else, they don’t even need a phonebook to find their officer.  Twice I have had one of those people knock on the door, once when Keith had already left for work. 
             Do you think we are just paranoid?  One time Keith came upon one of his people parked in front of a convenience store with a shotgun in the front seat next to him.  And among several other similar events, on Friday, May 18, 2012, probation and parole officer Jeff McCoy, who had gone to check on one of his people, was shot in the head and killed in Oklahoma City, when his knock on the door was answered.
             That is why I always lock my doors when I come inside, and why, since we had a fence put up, we lock the gate 24/7.
            It’s a habit now.  I come in the door and shut it with a twist of the wrist and it’s locked.  I don’t even know I’ve done it. In fact, one time I walked outside to do something and locked myself out without realizing it. 
            On the weekends when he is not at work, I regularly lock Keith out too.  He will be chopping wood or mowing the yard and I come back in from taking him a jug of water and—flip—it’s locked.  I don’t know it until I hear him knocking at the door.  He never gets angry; he always says, “Good job,” and goes about his business.  Now if I didn’t respond to his knock that might be a different story.
            Acts 6:7 tells us that many of the priests were “obedient to the faith.”  That word “obedient” is the same Greek word used in Acts 12:13.  Peter had been miraculously released from prison and went to Mary’s house, where the church had met to pray.  He knocked at the door and Rhoda came to “answer”—that’s the word “obedient.”  Just as a knock on the door requires a response, the gospel knocking on our hearts requires one too.
            First, let me praise poor little Rhoda.  This was a time of danger for the church.  Two had been arrested and one of those already killed.  The use of the word “maid[en]” or “damsel” tells me she was unmarried and therefore quite young.  Yet she is the one who was sent to answer the door.  What if it had been Herod’s soldiers?  Then she finds Peter standing there and is so excited she forgets to let him in—meaning it was somehow secured, which was probably unusual.  It takes others coming to respond to the continued knocking for Peter to actually get into the house.
            A lot of charlatans who claim to be preachers of the faith will tell you that all you have to do is look out the door and recognize the Lord and you will be saved.  Faith is merely mental assent, with perhaps a lot of excitement thrown in, too much to actually get the door opened to prove its sincerity, but this word requires some action.  Those priests in Acts 6 were “obedient” to the faith.  They responded completely and fully to whatever was asked of them.  “Mental assent” is not an appropriate response to the gospel, any more than me looking out the diamond-shaped pane of glass at my locked-out husband and waving, “Hi!”
            How many professional athletes have you seen wearing crosses and “thanking their Lord” before going out to live exactly the way they want to instead of the way He wants them to?  Too many.  But what about those of us who do not live with such public scrutiny?  How many times do we tell the Lord, even after having “obeyed the gospel” as if it were a one-and-done deal, I’m happy to serve as long as it doesn’t cost too much money or take too much of my precious time, as long as everyone does things my way (which is the only smart way), or calls me every day to check on me and take care of my every whim?
            The Lord is knocking on the door and He wants far more than your words.  He wants all of you, your heart and your life, your total submission to His way of doing things.  Don’t just nod at Him through the peephole.  Either answer the door and let Him in, or allow Him to go on to someone who really wants Him there.
 
As many as I love, I reprove and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent. Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. He who overcomes, I will give to him to sit down with me in my throne, as I also overcame, and sat down with my Father in his throne. Revelation 3:19-21
 
Dene Ward