We have a neighbor who loves to fish.  In fact, he fishes so much that he cannot possibly use all the fish he brings home.  Lucky for us!  I now have an unending supply, usually of sea trout and shrimp, some of the best stuff out there.  When he brings it home, he even cleans it before he calls.  Amazing!  But someone has to do some messy work in order for anyone to enjoy the fruits of fishing.  Unless you go to a fish market, or the seafood section of your local grocer, or, even easier, the freezer case.
            Maybe that’s our problem—we’ve been to too many fish markets.
            Seems like when we go fishing for men, we don’t want anything messy.  The only ones we look for are the WASPs with nuclear families, unfettered by problems of any sort.  That’s where we build our meetinghouses, pass out our meeting announcements, and do our mass mailings.  We don’t want people with built-in problems, people overcoming addictions, people with messy family lives, people with “big bad sins” in their history.  No one wants a “high maintenance” convert who needs our support, our encouragement, our patience, and certainly not our time!  In fact, once a long time ago, Keith was chastised for “bringing the wrong class of people to church.”
            To whom did Jesus go?  Now all the publicans and sinners were drawing near to him to hear him, Luke 15:1, and I seem to remember a woman who had been married five times and was living with another man, John 4:18.  Would we have even given them the time of day?
            Jesus only appeals to those who need him, and unfortunately, people who have no “big” problems, no obvious needs, seldom think they need anyone.  It usually takes a crisis to wake them up.  So why are we so insistent upon turning our efforts to teach the gospel to the very ones who are least likely to listen?
            Maybe we no longer want to be fishers of men.  The “cleaning” is too messy, too difficult, too heart-wrenching, and too time-consuming. Instead of being fishers of men, as the old saying goes, we just want to be keepers of the aquarium, with a built-in filter (preacher) and someone else to feed the fish (elders and class teachers) so we can swim around in a pretty glass box with plastic mermaids and divers, and live our lives unbothered by things like helping one another grow to spirituality, and scraping the algae off our souls. 
            Maybe we have forgotten, or never even knew, the mindset of the first century church—a dynamic group of people, spreading God’s word to everyone they met, trying to take as many “fish” as they could to Heaven with them, regardless of how messy their lives were. 
            Maybe someone needs to come fishing for us again.
 
And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with the sinners and the publicans, said unto his disciples, “How is it that he eats and drinks with publicans and sinners?”  And when Jesus heard it, he said to them, “They that are whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick.  I came not to call the righteous, but sinners,” Mark 2:16,17.
 
Dene Ward

"Before “Friends,” Harry Pickup Jr. used to grab a couple of the talented students and go somewhere to sing & play to promote Florida College. Dene was sometimes one of those. Then the Public Relations department formed a permanent group that toured just like the Chorus always had. They adopted the name, “Friends” from a song popular at the time (lyrics in the title above)  that continues to voice our feelings about what makes FC special.

That got me to thinking, What is a friend? Sometimes people say they have a lot of friends, I wonder whether they have ever considered the various kinds of friends. A wise man once said that a man is lucky to have two or three friends in a lifetime.

In the sense of the Proverb (18:24, “There is a friend that sticks closer than a brother,”) that is probably true. That Jonathan and David trust, loyalty, and die-for-you commitment comes seldom. The one you know who would drop everything and come to your cry, means everything.

But there are other true friends. People that you can pick up with after a decade or more separation and feel as at-home with as yesterday; we have a few more of those. People we remember fondly and long for, though we may not expect to see them again this side of heaven. People that you can talk about most anything with, or just sit quietly and be comfortable.

Then there are the friends that put their feet under your table and you put yours under theirs more than once. Breaking bread together forms a bond.

“Workplace acquaintances” one called them. You may not share anything with them anywhere else and even feel a bit awkward if you meet them elsewhere, but you share personal things and help one another on the job. Or, these may be PTA friends, or golfing buddies, or Rotary or Music club.

How many other types of friends are there?

Which kind do you mean when you sing, “I’ll be a Friend to Jesus?”
 
 
This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. ​Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. ​No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.  (John 15:12-15).
 
Keith Ward

I have had occasion to teach this quite recently so it is fresh on my mind.  Please consider with me this morning one of the biggest spoiled brats in the Bible—King Ahab.  Every one of you has had to discipline his character out of your children, successfully, I imagine, but for some people it just doesn't take and you end up with a big baby for all of your trouble.  Let's see if we can enumerate his problems.
            1.  "When Ahab saw Elijah, Ahab said to him, “Is it you, you troubler of Israel?” And he answered, “I have not troubled Israel, but you have, and your father's house, because you have abandoned the commandments of the LORD and followed the Baals. " (1Kgs 18:17-18).
            Ahab blamed everyone but himself for his difficulties.  Here his disobedience has led to God allowing three years of drought in the land, but it was "not his fault."  Our culture is big on blaming everything and everyone else, from parents to society to some neurosis that means, "I couldn't help it."  In the spiritual realm I have heard people blame the church for their children leaving, blame teachers for their lack of Bible knowledge, blame elders for disciplining the wayward as the scriptures plainly say they ought.  I have even heard people say they don't know who is to blame, but it certainly is not them.  Accountability is a hallmark of maturity.  These people have none of either.
            2.  "And he said to him, “Thus says the LORD, ‘Because you have let go out of your hand the man whom I had devoted to destruction, therefore your life shall be for his life, and your people for his people.’” And the king of Israel went to his house vexed and sullen and came to Samaria. " (1Kgs 20:42-43).
            Once again Ahab has failed in his obedience to God, so God sends a message of rebuke.  Does he repent?  Does he give an apology for exactly what he has done wrong?  No, he goes home "resentful and angry" (HCSB).  Resentful and angry never has found forgiveness with God.  God expects His disciplined child to come to Him with humility and genuine remorse.  Once again Ahab has failed.
            3.  "And Ahab went into his house vexed and sullen because of what Naboth the Jezreelite had said to him, for he had said, “I will not give you the inheritance of my fathers.” And he lay down on his bed and turned away his face and would eat no food. " (1Kgs 21:4).
            Everyone knows this story, how Ahab coveted the vineyard belonging to Naboth.  It was a matter of the inheritance laws, not just stubbornness.  Israelites simply could not go around selling their property willy-nilly, even if it was the king who wanted it.  So what does Ahab do?  Lie on the bed and pout and whine and refuse to eat.  A king, mind you.  This man wasn't even king material! 
            Have you seen grown men do the same?  I have.  It isn't pretty.  In fact, it is downright embarrassing to be around, and you wonder why that man doesn't feel embarrassed himself. 
           4.  And then when the pouting is over, just as Jezebel used the Law of God to get rid of Naboth by hiring false witnesses to testify against him, I have seen people suddenly begin to quote scripture, wresting it to fit their situation in attempt to justify themselves and condemn those who are trying to win them back.  You have never seen such hermeneutic corkscrewing in a blatant attempt to excuse oneself.
          Judge not that you be not judged is a favorite.  Meanwhile, the same person judges you for daring to try to correct him.  Suddenly you are a hypocrite and traitor.  Anyone messing with the sacred Word of God had better be careful. 
          5.  Then, of course, we have Ahab allowing his wife to go to any lengths, including murder, to give him what he wants.  Does it matter that it is sinful?  No, not as long as he gets his way.  When he doesn't get it, see #3.
            6.  And when Ahab heard those words, he tore his clothes and put sackcloth on his flesh and fasted and lay in sackcloth and went about dejectedly. And the word of the LORD came to Elijah the Tishbite, saying, “Have you seen how Ahab has humbled himself before me? Because he has humbled himself before me, I will not bring the disaster in his days; but in his son's days I will bring the disaster upon his house.” (1Kgs 21:27-29).
            Finally, it seems, someone has reached the heart of this evil man.  Even God is impressed with his repentance.  So what happens next?  Steadfastness and commitment are not his strong suits.  In and out, up and down, his faith is nothing more than an EKG of his emotions, all of which depend upon whether or not he can do as he pleases rather than take up his cross and follow the Lord he once claimed.
           7.  And then, in chapter 22 he becomes angry with the prophet of God and throws him in prison.  He doesn't like the message so away with the messenger.  You are no longer his friend and he will heap abuse on you daily, including name-calling and false accusations.  The harder you try, the more he will refuse you, accusing you of being the Devil's tool in discouraging him ("poor little me"), when he is doing a bang-up job of doing that to you himself.
            I am positive you have seen this man.  He throws a fit when corrected, runs people out of his house, gets rid of the preacher if he possibly can, creates a faction in the church, whatever it takes to rid himself of anyone who dares to tell him he is wrong and must change. 
           And notice this, through six and a half chapters, Ahab never improves.  The one time he actually seems to repent, it is short-lived.  Commitment is a foreign concepts to him, but then you wouldn't expect it of a child either. But most children (except Peter Pan) want to grow up.  This one thinks no one has any right to expect him to show improvement.  It is perfectly fine, just as Ahab thought, to keep falling the same way again and again, and still be accepted by God and his people.
            Look back at those underlined phrases.   Do you see why I call him a spoiled brat?  A big baby?  This isn't a man of God—it isn't even a man.  Men of God have accountability and self-control, they repent with humility and remorse, they accept those who correct them with love, and never use the Law of God in an attempt to get away with sin.  They wouldn't be caught dead whining and pouting like a little kid and they show improvement through the days and weeks and months of their growth as Christians. 
            I know "children of God" has a special meaning in our relationship with the Father.  But for this morning, think about it this way.  Getting rid of these characteristics is how "children" of God become "men and women" of God.
 
Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ.  (Col 1:28).
 
Dene Ward

My big flower bed on the south side of the shed attracts butterflies by the score.  Every day I see both white and yellow sulfurs, tiny blue hairstreaks, huge brown and yellow swallowtails, and glorious orange monarchs and viceroys flitting from bloom to bloom.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the bloom stops and the butterfly begins amid all those big yellow black-eyed Susans, multicolored zinnias, and purple petunias. 
            But have you ever watched a butterfly?  If you and I decided to go somewhere the way a butterfly goes, it would take all day to get there.  We have a saying: “as the crow flies,” meaning a straight line course.  A butterfly couldn’t fly a straight line no matter how hard it tried—it would always fail the state trooper’s sobriety test.
            Some of us live our spiritual lives like butterflies.  We seem to think that waking up in the morning and allowing life to just “happen” is the way to go.  No wonder we don’t grow.  No wonder we fail again and again at the same temptations.  No wonder we don’t know more about the Word of God this year than last, and no wonder we can’t stand the trials of faith.
            Some folks think that going to church is the plan.  That’s why their neighbors would be surprised to find out they are Christians—Sunday is their only day of service.  Others refuse to acknowledge any weakness they need to work on.  It rankles their pride to admit they need to improve on anything, and because they won’t admit anything specific, they never do improve. 
            Some folks make their life decisions with no consideration at all for their spiritual health, or the good of the kingdom.  The stuff of this life matters the most, and only after that do they give the spiritual a thought, if at all, and it is to be dismissed if it means anything untoward for their physical comfort, convenience, status, or wealth. 
            The only plan they have for their children is their physical welfare—how they will do in school, where they will go to college, what career they will pursue.  They must get their schoolwork, but their parents don’t even know what they are studying in Bible classes, much less make sure they get their lessons.  It’s too much trouble to take them to spiritual gatherings of other young Christians.  And have you seen how much those camps cost?!  Probably less than a year’s worth of cell phone service and much less than the car they buy those same kids. 
            Where is the plan for this family’s spiritual growth?  Where is their devotion to a God they claim as Lord?  If their children do end up faithful, it will be in spite of these parents, not because of them.
            God expects us to have a plan.  The writer of the seventeenth psalm had one.  “I have purposed that my mouth will not transgress,” he says in verse 3, and then later, “I have avoided the ways of the violent, my steps have held fast to your paths,” (4b,5a).  He made a vow and he kept it.  He mapped his life out to stay away from evil and on the road to his Father.
            How are you doing as you fly through life—and it does fly, people!  Are you flitting here and there, around one bush and over another, out of the flower bed entirely once in awhile, then back in for a quick sip of nectar before heading off in whichever direction the wind blows?  Or do you have a plan, a map to get you past the pitfalls with as little danger as possible, to the necessary stops for revival and refreshing, but then straight back on the road to your next life?
            Do you know what the term social butterfly means?  It’s someone who flits from group to group.  Perhaps not so much now, but originally the term was one of ridicule.  I wonder what God would think of a spiritual butterfly who has no focus on the spiritual things of this life, but flits from one thing to other and always on a carnal whim rather than a spiritual one.  I wonder if He would decide that butterfly wouldn’t be able to appreciate an eternity of spiritual things either.

…And [Barnabas] exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose, for he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith...  Acts 11:23,24.
 
Dene Ward

You might recognize the slogan above, at least the first part of it, from the masthead of the New York Times.  It was created by then-owner Adolph Ochs in 1896, as a way of distinguishing that paper from the tabloids.  The Times was trying to reach the cultured, intellectual class as opposed to the uneducated masses (shades of John 7:49), so they attempted to set a high moral tone with this slogan.  It got them into trouble a time or two, enough that they actually ran a contest to find a better slogan, but none of the ones submitted made the cut, so there it sits, right at the top of the paper, as it has for over a century.
            Keith and I have not had the best relationship with journalists.  After an event he was involved in that made the news and rocked our lives, four local papers covered it, and none of them got it correct.  In one it was made to sound like something out of a crime drama, and in the best of them, they couldn't even get his age right—and that is a matter of public record.  Then I had a reporter call me while Keith was still incapacitated.  Naïve and trusting as I am, it took a few minutes for me to realize that his questions were designed to elicit a comment from me that would give him a scoop and make his story more sensational.  As it happens, the powers that be got hold of him and squelched the story, while I learned the value of that two word phrase, "No comment."
            So pardon me if I don't believe much that I read on the internet, or in the papers, or on the television news, during this virus outbreak and do not get as alarmed as people think I should.  I am a skeptic, and it's the media's own fault.  For example, I am not stupid so I had been following the directions that a real, certified doctor put out about how to clean the produce from the stores, only to have another story come out a few weeks later telling me that was the worst thing I could do.  That second story even had the first doctor backtracking as fast as possible in his advice.  At least the garden is coming in now, and we know not only where it comes from but who has handled it. 
            My advice to you is, don't believe everything you read.  Except for one thing:  the Word of God.  People have tried their best to discredit it, but the facts keep getting in the way.  "All we have are copies," they say, completely ignoring the fact that is all we have of many ancient writings.  Then come the numbers.  While they have changed significantly since the first apologetics scholars counted, the Bible still wins by a huge margin.  According to Dr. Josh McDowell and Dr. Clay Jones in "The Bibliographical Test—Update 8-13-2014" we have 96 copies of Thucydides' History, 109 copies of Herodotus' History, 193 copies of Sophocles' Plays, 210 copies of Plato's Tetralogies, and a bit over 1800 copies of Homer's Iliad.  Sound impressive?  Well, we have 66,362 copies of Bible manuscripts!  No one ever questions the accuracy of those secular manuscripts, so how in the world can they question the accuracy of the Bible and be logically consistent?
            In addition, the Bible was written by about 40 different authors over a period of about 1500 years, and yet it hangs together as a unified text with no contradictions.  Those who think they have found one usually wind up just showing their ignorance of that Book and embarrassing themselves.
            This just scratches the surface of the evidences for the infallibility of the Bible.  Josh McDowell is an excellent source, by the way, as well as others, including my own son Nathan, one of whose degrees is in Biblical evidences. 
            So yes, I will believe what I find in the Bible a whole lot sooner than I believe what I read or hear in the news.  I learned the hard way on that one, but God I can stake my life on, and already have.
 
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.  (Isa 55:10-11).

Dene Ward
 

I understand that the term “Southernism” refers to a trait of language or behavior that is characteristic of the South or Southerners.  I have a cookbook, Cooking Across the South compiled by Lillian Marshall, which extrapolates that definition to include certain Southern recipes, particularly older recipes.  She includes in that list things like hominy, frocking, poke sallet, and tomato gravy.  If you are from north of the Mason-Dixon Line, I am sure you are scratching your head at some of those things, wondering just what in the world they are besides strange.
            In the same vein, I wondered if we could stretch that idea to something we might call “Christianisms,” things a Christian would do that might seem peculiar to someone who isn’t one.  Like never using what the world now calls “colorful language;” like remaining calm and civil when someone mistreats you, doing, in fact, something nice for them; like not cheating on your taxes; like giving back the change that a cashier overpays you; like paying attention to the speed limit and other laws of the land even if there is not a trooper behind you; like cooking or cleaning house for an invalid; like making time for the worship on Sunday morning and arriving at the ball game late even if those tickets did cost a small fortune; like being careful of the clothing you choose to wear; like choosing not to see certain movies or watch certain television shows; like thinking that spending time with other Christians is far more enjoyable than things like “clubbing;” —these are my idea of Christianisms.  I am sure you could add more to the list.
            In the cookbook, I must admit, are many things I have never heard of, despite being a born and bred Southerner—frocking, for one.  You see I came along at a time when the South was starting to change, especially my part of it.  Disney changed everything.  Orlando used to be a one-horse town instead of the metropolis it has become.  I actually learned how to drive in Tampa on what is now I-275.  Can you imagine letting a first timer do that?  My part of the South has become less “southern” as the years have passed.  So, while I had roots in the traditions of the Deep South, I have lost familiarity with many of them.
            Wouldn’t it be a shame if we got to that point with “Christianisms?”  When you read that list I made, did you stop somewhere along the line and say, “Huh? Why would anyone do that?”  Have we allowed the “worldisms” to take the place of concepts and behaviors that ought to be second nature to us?  Can we even compose a list of things that make us different or have we become assimilated?
            Try making a list of the “Christianisms” in your life today.  Make sure you can come up with some, and if not, maybe it’s time to make a few changes.
 
Do all things without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent,  children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation,  among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life…Phil 2:14-16a.
 
Dene Ward

Have you ever seen a catbird take a bath?  I'll take that as a no, the looks I am imagining on your faces, that is.
            First let me introduce you.  He's a sleek, handsome fellow, slate gray, about 8 or 9 inches long.  A black cap perches on the crown of his head and down the back of his head, almost like a cropped mane.  His long tail has a rusty spot beneath it.  His lady friend looks the same, and they both mew like a cat, hence, the name.
            When this fellow decides he needs a bath, he plops himself into one of the water pans I put on top of the feeder posts.  Because of his size, he does better in the larger one, but I have also seen him in the one that is a good 3 inches smaller in diameter.  As large as he is, it's a wonder he doesn't fall out.  At first, he gives a little splash, then stops and looks around.  Then another splash.  Then another.  Finally, he begins in earnest, splashing so hard that the birds beneath him on the feeder get a shower while they eat.  Any sitting on the edge of the water pan run for cover.  Still he splashes.  As you watch from my seat in the house, it becomes impossible to see the bird for the amount of water splashing around him, and I know I will have to refill the pans immediately after he leaves.
            And then he stops.  You can almost see his little heart beating in that dark gray chest as he pants in recovery.  And he is soaking wet.  His feathers are plastered and dark against him, his black cap mussed and plastered as well.  When this bird has finished bathing, there is no doubt at all what he has been doing.  He is as wet as if he had immersed himself, even though the water was only a couple inches deep.
            That is exactly the way we need to immerse ourselves in our Christianity.  Going to church once a week won't do it.  Paying lip service to God won't do it.  We are expected to fill up on the Word every chance we get, talk about it, think about, study it, and espouse it when we can.  It should be second nature to mention God in our lives no matter who we are talking to.  We should be using our assemblies and other church functions as our excuse to miss worldly events, not the other way around.  In fact, we should be looking for other occasions to get together with Christians to study together and encourage one another.  That's what it means to be a disciple of Christ and a servant of the Lord.  That is the very definition of those words.  I should be so immersed in the Lord and His Word that I look as wet as a catbird to my friends, neighbors, and co-workers.  There should be no question in their minds exactly who I am because I not only claim it, I live it.  Always.
            Once upon a time you were immersed for the remission of your sins.  Now it's time for another immersion.  Do you need a bath today?
 
I have asked one thing from the LORD; it is what I desire: to dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, gazing on the beauty of the LORD and seeking Him in His temple.  (Ps 27:4).
 
Dene Ward

Over to the east side of the playing field, that portion of our property that we have kept open for baseball games, football passes, croquet set-ups and the like, stands a homemade trellis covered with climbing roses.  We have the old traditional deep red Climbing Blaze, a red-orange Blaze of Glory with blooms half again the size of the Blaze, and a yellow one whose name I have forgotten.  We picked it up at the nursery section of a home improvement store solely because its blooms were the largest I had ever seen on a climber, at least three times the size of the Blaze.
              About that yellow one—the blooms may be huge, but they are few and far between.  I doubt we get more than a dozen a year.  And they are here and gone in a flash.  You will see a bud one day, a beautiful rose the second, an overblown flower the third, and an empty limb the fourth.  Then you might wait two weeks for the next one.  Rarely will we have two yellow blooms at the same time.
              However, the first winter, Keith did not prune it exactly right, and one morning the following spring we found both a yellow and a red bloom on the same bush.  Because of his "poor" pruning job, the rootstock had put out limbs and they had bloomed too.  Those were almost the same red as the Climbing Blaze, but just a bit smaller.  So now we have four colors on three plants, ranging in size from a half dollar to a teacup.  Needless to say, we have not corrected our "mistake."
              This past April those rootstock limbs really took off.  Each five or six foot arc was covered with buds all down its length, opening at intervals so that we had a huge length of red blooms for weeks.  And these little guys last awhile—no here today, gone tomorrow for them.
              From a few feet away all you see is red, but when you step closer you begin to see the individual blooms.  Some are still buds, dark green with a tiny line of red where it will eventually open.  Some have just begun to do so, the green sepal having fallen back, but the red still folded into itself.  Some are the perfect rose, just barely open into a full bloom with intricate folds of red velvet.  Then you see the older blooms, open as wide as possible, yellow pollen showing in the middle, surrounded by a paler, almost white ring.
              Even at the same stage the blooms show differences.  Some are larger, some smaller.  Some have more petals, others fewer.  Some have petals with black "lace" around the edges—perhaps a blight of some kind.  Some are slightly malformed, opening only on one side while the other never opens at all.  But every one of them does what a rose is supposed to do, what God made it for—blooming to the best of its ability.
              That's all God expects of us, too.  In whatever condition you are, serve Him the best you can.  Even that may change due to health or age, but that doesn't give you a pass.  Some of the people who have helped me the most were the older brothers and sisters I visited, hoping to encourage them, and yet found myself encouraged as much or more by them.  People who deal with pain every day, who have trials and ordeals most of us have only read about and come through it with their faith intact and an optimistic view of their destiny, which they pass on to others through sheer enthusiasm.  They are the greatest proof that there is absolutely no excuse for sitting idle in God's kingdom.
              "But I am doing my best," so many will say to assuage their guilty feelings.  Fine.  Just understand this:  God is the one who decides what your best is, not you.  Just as his lord judged harshly the one talent man who buried his in the ground because the risks otherwise scared him, our Lord will judge harshly the one who gave up just because things got tough. 
              The Lord's kingdom is a climbing rose covered with bloom after bloom.  None of them is perfect and some look far better than others in men's eyes, but in God's eyes, the bud that blooms its head off regardless its condition, is the most beautiful one of all.
 
As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children,  (Ps 103:15-17).

Dene Ward

We live on wooded property—spreading live oaks, pencil straight slash pines, red and silver maples, fast-growing sycamores, sweet gums with their spiky balls, wild cherry and water oaks, both of which will split and fall at the least breeze.  When I walk Chloe around the perimeter I dodge fallen limbs, both deadfall and green, every ten feet or so.  Sometimes I find larger limbs that have fallen overnight, and once one fell right in my path just seconds after I had passed. 
              Often in the night, especially a windy one in the spring or fall as fronts pass through, I hear limbs hit the roof.  They are surprisingly loud and I awake expecting to find something large and heavy only to waste Keith’s time as he climbs the ladder to discover a two foot long twig no bigger around than his thumb.  It certainly sounded bigger than that!
              A few months ago, after a particularly windy winter storm, Chloe and I came upon a fallen pine limb, three feet long maybe and about two inches in diameter.  This one, though, was not lying on the ground.  The wind had cast this one with enough force that it had stuck straight into the ground through the sod.  I pulled it out and a full six inches of it was below the surface.  Imagine if that one had come hurtling through the sky at me as I walked by.
              Words are a bit like fallen limbs.  You never know who they will hit and how.  We are often just as careless as the wind in hurtling them about.  We may think the only one who hears is the one we are addressing.  We may think that everyone knows us and understands how it is meant.  We may think that what was said was perfectly innocent and completely impossible to mistake for something bad.  We may be very wrong.
              Yes, people need to listen with as much charity as we need to speak.  The Bible, particularly the wisdom literature, is full of cautions not only about how we speak but how we listen.  Even Jesus said, “Take heed how you hear.”  Hearing involves maybe as much responsibility as speaking. Do not take to heart all the things that people say, lest you hear your servant cursing you. Your heart knows that many times you yourself have cursed others, Eccl 7:21,22.
              But just maybe we could stand to be a bit more careful in our speaking.  Words can hurt, and unlike physical wounds, may never heal.  What sounds like a twig to us may sound like a massive branch falling on the roof to the hearer.  And a multitude of the same kinds of words has an effect that is hard to erase.  What kinds of words do I use the most?  Praise or criticism?  Thanksgiving or complaining?  Encouragement or rebuke?  Tough love is necessary and is necessarily painful, but do I ever practice any other kind?  Are all my words, or even just the majority, “tough?”  And am I proud of having that sort of reputation?  Do people cringe when they see me coming?
              Those things I can control, but what about the things I say that are not meant to harm, but still manage to do so?  What about things I toss off without thought, directed at no one in particular, but that, like a fallen limb, accidentally come close to someone else’s heart?  Yes, for those who are mature, we can go back to the responsibility laid on hearers in that Ecclesiastes passage and in Jesus’ and the apostles’ words about being quick to judge, but what about the perfectly innocent babes?  What about young impressionable Christians? 
              If I shoot a gun into the air, the bullet will land somewhere, and my having shot it will make me accountable to the law of the land.  Will God’s law hold us any less accountable for the spiritually injured? 
 
I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned, Matt 12:36,37.
 
Dene Ward

It was absolutely necessary.  We had no choice.  My numbers had been up the past two visits, once dangerously high, so we could not afford to postpone the check-up.
              We prepared ourselves carefully. I tucked the hand sanitizer into my purse in an easily accessible side pocket.  Then Keith brought in the last two masks he had.  He keeps them on hand for working with pesticides and fertilizers, and when mowing the lawn.  Turns out they were N95s, and it was the first time we realized he had bought such good ones.  Then he grabbed a glove and a plastic bag because we would need to pick up the mail from our rural box down by the highway when we drove back in.
              When we arrived at the medical center, we donned our masks—a major ordeal for me since I am claustrophobic.  Every time that mask commercial comes on TV vaunting its ability to "keep out pollen, bacteria, and dust," I add to myself, "And air."  I could feel my pulse rising the moment I put the thing on and Keith stood next to me, rubbing my shoulders while whispering, "You can breathe, you can breathe, you can breathe." 
              We were met at the door by two masked nurses who bombarded us with questions, none of which my 90 % deaf husband could hear because their lips were covered and he had nothing to "read."  Seems no one ever thought about that problem before.  Finally they took our temperatures and sent me on to the front desk to stand on a black X, well over the required six feet away from the woman who registered me, so that we had to practically yell my information at one another to accomplish the deed.  So much for patient privacy.
              And so it continued at every phase until we finally arrived back home five hours later to wash up and sanitize once again.
              That's when it came to me.  We really do not understand the meaning of the prefix "pan."  I just looked it up to be perfectly sure.  "Involving all members of a group," I found.  We are being so very careful—staying home, wearing masks, standing six feet apart or behind sneeze guards when necessary to be together at all, perpetually washing hands, pouring out hand sanitizer like water, some greedily hoarding staples from their neighbors.  I wonder what would happen if we were that careful about the only true pandemic there is—the one that effects every single person on the planet, not just a relatively small percentage—SIN.
              What might happen if we spread the news about its contagion and the truly exorbitant fatality percentage?  What would happen if we isolated ourselves from anything that even bordered on it, anyone who carelessly sneezed it on us or our children?  Would we anxiously read up on it (in our Bibles), memorize the symptoms, and tell anyone who would listen what we had discovered?  Would we be as willing to hurt ourselves economically and socially to avoid a spiritual virus as we have these past few months to avoid a physical one?
              And what does the answer to those questions tell us about the state of our souls?  Even as the effects of this physical virus begin to wane ever so slightly, understand this:  That spiritual virus has been around far longer and has claimed the souls of the vast majority of people who have ever lived on this earth.  Now THAT'S a pandemic.
              What will you do about that today?  Aren't you even a little bit frightened?
 
…For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, (Rom 3:22-23).
 
Dene Ward