I suppose it’s because of our age.  Or maybe it’s because we have lost three of our four parents.  We are the ones at the top of the escalator.  No one stands between us and eternity.  My mother is still alive but she is into her nineties, so it still feels like we are the older couple now, and it is indeed sobering.  All things being equal, we will be next to step off on the upper floor.

              Maybe that’s why we have spent a lot of time lately looking through old photographs.  What did we find?  Dogs and cats from puppy- and kitten-hood to grizzled muzzles and bent old bodies, baseball teams, science projects, birthday parties, and Christmas presents; old friends and their young children, who are now grown up like ours; school pictures of the boys, all the way to college graduation; even a few pictures of a couple of kids in 70s polyester, freshly married, with lots of hair and far skinnier than I thought possible.  Occasionally we looked at a picture of a toddler and said, “Are you sure that isn’t Silas?  Or Judah?”  Those always made us smile.

              We also found pictures of this place of ours from back when we first arrived.  A before and after picture probably wouldn’t do the monumental amount of work we have done justice.  We have turned an old watermelon field into a homestead.  Sometimes I wonder what will happen thirty or forty years from now.  Will someone else enjoy my jasmine vines and eat my muscadines?  Will they exclaim over the profusion of volunteer black-eyed Susans and the heat-hearty crepe myrtles?  Will they build a better house up under the oak grove in the middle of the property, just west of the firepit?  I used to dream of the time we could do that ourselves, but it will obviously never happen.

              One thing that surprised us the most were the live oaks.  When you see something every day you don’t notice how much it grows.  I have always thought of those trees as huge, but now they are twice the size around that they were 33 years ago, and many feet taller.  If I hadn’t looked at those pictures, I might never have noticed.

              Sometimes we do that to our brethren.  We tar them with a brush based upon their behavior decades before and never give them any credit for improving.  Can there be anything more discouraging to a brother in Christ? 

              Think today of your various brethren and how you would describe them to someone else.  What exactly are you basing that description on?  Something that happened yesterday, or something that happened twenty years ago?  Are you giving them any credit for growth?  “Judge righteous judgment,” Jesus reminded his disciples in John 7:24.  This poor judgment isn’t just a careless mistake of no consequence; it’s a matter of righteousness. 

              Maybe today would be a good time to reassess our opinions of our brethren.  Throw out the old photographs and take a new one.  Maybe—just maybe—they will do the same for us.
 
He who justifies the wicked and he who condemns the righteous:  both of them alike are an abomination to Jehovah, Prov 17:15.
 
Dene Ward

I made a Peach Melba crisp this summer that was pretty good, and something a little different from your ordinary peach cobbler—fresh peaches, fresh raspberries, and a crunchy topping.  I knew the original Peach Melba dessert was named after Nellie Melba, Australian born soprano, but I did not know the whole story.  Even after some research, I still don't.  It's one of those he said/she said things, as well as a few problems with the dating.  But it goes something like this.
 
             Nellie toured the world in her prime.  She sang at the Met in New York, at Covent Garden in London, at the opera house in Paris, and at La Scala in Milan; she even sang for the tsars in Russia.  Covent Garden became one of her regular stops every musical season. 

            Nellie actually had a small repertoire for a diva—she only sang about 25 operatic roles—but one of them was Elsa in Wagner's Lohengrin.  In fact, that might have been the only Wagner she sang.  The chef at the Savoy Hotel where she stayed while in London, Auguste Escoffier, was so enthralled with her rendition of Elsa, he named a dessert after hearing her, Peach Melba—peaches and raspberry sauce over vanilla ice cream.

              And here is where things get sketchy.  The last date I can find that Nellie sang Elsa in London in the early 1890s was July 27, 1891.  Supposedly, the very next day Escoffier created the dessert.  However, he says he did not meet her until 1893.  What is the solution?  Maybe he heard her that evening in 1891 and it took two more years for him to come up with the dessert.  Maybe it was a different role two years later that finally brought the dish into being.  Maybe he, or she, misremembered.  We do know this—he did name the dessert for her, and that is not the only thing this renowned chef named for Nellie.  There is also melba sauce, a puree of raspberries and red currants.  Then we have the ever popular melba toast, a crisp and dry—very,very dry—toast.  And finally Melba Garniture, which is chicken, truffles and mushrooms stuffed into tomatoes with a velote sauce.  Whatever you might think of Nellie's singing, she certainly inspired a lot of creativity in the kitchen.  Escoffier, in particular, was smitten.

              And that makes Nellie an eponym, a person after which something is named.  Many scientists and inventors are eponyms—Louis Pasteur, Alessandro Volta, Andre-Marie Ampere, Georg Ohm, Nikola Tesla, Karl Benz, and closer to home, Henry Ford and Ransom E. Olds. 

              The Bible has a few eponyms too.  Everyone understands what we mean when we say, "She is a Jezebel."  That woman, whoever she may be, is a wicked, immoral person.  Or, "He's a Jonah," which means he is a jinx.  And of course, someone who is a "Judas" is a traitor.

              So if you were an eponym, what would your name have come to mean?  I find myself using the names of those who have gone on exactly that way at times.  When I see a woman who constantly serves others, who is in the kitchen cooking for someone practically every minute of every day, whether because they are ill or just because she wants to do something nice for them, who puts thousands of miles on her car taking people to the doctor, who sews, and repairs clothing for others, and who still manages to keep a spotless home, too, I say, "She is a Melvene Wallace."  If you were blessed enough to have known that good woman, you know exactly what I mean.

              When I see a kind, gentle man, who is always looking after others, visiting the sick and the widows, inviting college students into his home for a meal, helping others with such mundane tasks as digging sweet potatoes or stacking wood, taking literal boatloads of fathers and sons on fishing trips, scheduling his vacations around gospel meetings so he can attend every night, and always in a pew with a smile when the doors of the meetinghouse are open, I say, "He's another Cedell Fletcher."  And once again, if you had known him, you would instantly recognize the kind of man I mean.  I miss both of those people so much that some days it physically hurts.

              So here is your task for the day:  What would your name be an eponym for?  Recently, I had someone talk about hearing a "Dene-ism."  I am not sure what to make of that, except maybe I talk too much!  Some of us may not be known for anything particularly bad, like Jezebel, but are we known for anything at all?  If someone tried to describe us by our demeanor and actions, would anyone say, "Oh yes, I know her."  Or would they stand with a blank look on their faces, completely at a loss for words, "Who?"

              You don't have to be a famous singer like Nellie Melba.  You just have to be someone who does good for others in whatever way you can, whenever you can, for as long as you can.  If no one else can make an eponym out of you, God will.  You want it to be a good one.
 
Looking for the blessed hope and appearing of the glory of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a people for his own possession, zealous of good works. (Titus 2:13-14)
 
Dene Ward

What busy mother doesn’t love a one dish meal?  Whether a casserole, a Dutch oven, or a crockpot, that dish satisfies all the nutritional needs of the family, leaving little mess and full tummies. 

              Soups and stews, pot roasts, and pot pie may be the stuff of one pot wonders, but there are many others in the pantheon of gustatory delights that I have used.  If I have time, I may add some homemade bread, or maybe a salad, but those are redundant when the meat, starch, and vegetables are already included inside that single beautiful piece of steaming kitchenware.  I have a particular fondness for a half Swiss steak-half steak Creole concoction, braised in a tomato-y, herby vegetable sauce, dolloped with cheese grits.

              I was reading several passages the other morning when the thought crossed my mind that God’s Word is the ultimate one-dish meal for the soul. 

              It creates faith at the very outset of your relationship with God, Rom 10:17. 

              It instructs and enlightens, 1 Cor 10:11; Eph 3:3-5.

            It gives you a scolding when you need it, 2 Tim 3:16,17, and encourages you when you need a boost, Rom 15:4.

              It reminds you when you have forgotten, 2 Pet 3:1, and comforts you when the pain is overwhelming, 1 Thes 4:18.

              It can reveal your heart if you are brave enough to listen, Heb 4:12, and defeat the enemy if you wield it faithfully, Eph 6:17.

              The Word of God is indeed a one dish meal, satisfying all the spiritual needs of those who partake.  The world will tell you it’s irrelevant, out-dated and obsolete, that things have changed too much for it to be of any use to you at all.  Yet Jesus quoted an Old Testament that was just as far removed from him in time as the New is from us as if were as pertinent as the latest newsflash.  For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God, 1 Cor 1:18.

              From the feast of Psalm 119 to the quick power snack of passages like Rom 1:16, the Word of God will strengthen your faith, purify your heart, and save your soul—“words whereby you shall be saved,” the angel promised Cornelius, and sent those words with a preacher.

              Keep yourself healthy.  “Eat these words,” God told Ezekiel in Ezek 3:1, just like your mother telling you to eat your vegetables.  She knew what was best for you, and so does He.  
             
Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name, O LORD, God of hosts. Jeremiah 15:16
 
Dene Ward

We don’t travel a lot, but when we do we try to find a group of brethren who share our faith.  Most people call this looking for a “sound church.”  After several unsettling experiences with so-called “sound churches” on the road, I started studying the phrase.  Guess what?  You won’t find it anywhere in the Bible, not in any of the nine translations I checked.
 
             I have already mentioned a time when we forgot our “church clothes” and had to attend services in jeans and flannel shirts—camp clothes--and the cold reception we received.  Another time I was in a city far away from home for a scary surgery.  We remembered our church clothes, but it didn’t seem to make a bit of difference.  We walked in the front door, went down the middle aisle and sat two-thirds of the way down—Keith must be able to see faces in detail so he can lip-read.  We were at least 10 minutes early.  No one approached us, nor nodded, nor even looked our way.  Finally the woman in front of us heard Keith say, “I can’t believe no one has even greeted us,” and turned around to introduce herself.  After services we walked down the aisle surrounded shoulder to shoulder by the (still unwelcoming) crowd, stopped at a tract rack for a minute or two, and finally walked out the door before the preacher finally came out calling us to say hello.  It wasn’t like we didn’t give him plenty of time.  No one else even bothered.

              Contrast that to the time we entered a building thinking that we probably didn’t agree entirely with this group because of a few notices hanging on the wall, but were greeted effusively by every single member the minute they saw us.  We were even invited to lunch, while at the previous church I mentioned, living in a hotel between dangerous procedures, no one even asked if we needed any help.

              So when our recent study of faith came upon a passage in Titus about being “sound in the faith,” I decided to check the entire context and see what that actually meant.  Since I must be brief here, I hope you will get your Bible and work through it with me and see for yourself.

              First, the phrase applies to individuals, not a corporate body.  Titus 1:10-16 gives us a detailed and complete picture of someone who is not “sound.”  They are the ones the elders in verses 5-9 are supposed to “reprove sharply” so they may be “sound in the faith” v 13.  Look at those seven verses (10-16) and you will see a list that includes these, depending upon your version:  unruly, vain talkers, deceivers, false teachers, men defiled in mind and conscience, unbelievers (who obviously claim otherwise), those who are abominable, disobedient, and deny God by their works, being unfit for good works. 

              The context does not end just because the next line says, “Chapter 2.”  In that chapter Paul clearly defines what “sound in the faith” means, beginning unmistakably with “”Speak the things that befit sound doctrine, that the older men…” and going straight into the way people should live.  Read through it.  Everything he tells the older men and women, the younger men and women, and the servants to do and to be fit somewhere in that previous list (“un-sound”) as an opposite. 

              If people who are unruly are un-sound, then people who are temperate, sober-minded, and reverent in demeanor are sound.  If people who are defiled in mind and conscience are not sound, then people who are chaste, not enslaved to wine (or anything else), and not thieves are sound.  If people who deny God by their works and are even unfit for good works are not sound, then people who are kind, sound in love, and examples of good works are sound.  Go all the way through that second chapter and you can find a (opposite) match for everything in the first.

              Now let’s point out something important:  if being a false teacher makes you unsound, then being a teacher of good and having uncorrupt doctrine does indeed make you sound, but why do we act like that is all there is to it?  You can have a group of people who believe correctly right down the line but who are unkind, unloving, un-submissive, impatient, and who do nothing but sit on their pews on Sunday morning with no good works to their name and they are still not a “sound church!”  Not according to Paul. Nine out of the ten things on that “un-sound” list have nothing to do with doctrine—they are about the way each individual lives his life.

              I am reminded of Jesus’ scalding words to the Pharisees in Matthew 23:23:  Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for you tithe mint and anise and cummin, and have left undone the weightier matters of the law, justice, and mercy, and faith: but these you ought to have done, and not to have left the other undone. Yes, our doctrine must be sound, but doesn’t it mean anything to us that Paul spends far more time talking about how we live our lives every day? 

              If the church is made up of people, then a sound church must be made up of sound people who live sound lives.  That is the weightier matter of the law of Christ.
 
For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified: Romans 2:13.
 
Dene Ward

I opened the cooler and looked down into the plastic bin inside and saw a bloody mess.  Immediately my mind went into salvage mode.  We were camping, living out of a cooler for nine days, and couldn’t take any chances, even if it did cost us a week’s worth of meals.  As it turns out, the problem was easily solved.

              Whenever we camp, because space is short for that much food and eating out is not an option, I take all the meat for our evening meals frozen.  The meat itself acts as ice in the cooler, keeping the temperature well down in the safe zone, and we use it as it thaws, replacing it with real ice.  I learned early on to re-package each item in a zipper freezer bag so that as it thaws the juices don’t drip out and contaminate the other food and the ice we use in our drinks.  We also put the meat in plastic tubs, away from things like butter, eggs, and condiments—just in case.  That’s what saved us this time.

              Somehow the plastic bag in which I had placed the steaks had developed a leak, but all those bloody red juices were safely contained in the white tub, and the other meats were still sealed.  I removed the bin from the cooler, put the steaks in a new bag, dumped the mess and cleaned the bin and the outside of the other meat bags, then returned the whole thing to the cooler, everything once again tidy and above all, safe.

              We all do the same things in our kitchens.  After handling raw meat, we wash our hands.  We use separate cutting boards for meat and vegetables meant to be eaten fresh.  And lately, they are even telling us not to wash poultry at all because it splashes bacteria all over the kitchen.

              We follow all these safety rules, then think nothing of cross-contaminating our souls.  What do you watch on TV?  What do you look at on the internet?  Where do you go for recreation?  No, we cannot get out of the world, but we can certainly keep it from dumping its garbage on the same countertops we use to prepare our families’ spiritual meals.  There is an “off” button.

              Maybe the problem is that these things are not as repulsive to us as they should be.  The Psalmist said, I have not sat with men of falsehood; Neither will I go in with dissemblers. I hate the assembly of evil-doers, And will not sit with the wicked. I will wash my hands in innocency: So will I compass your altar, O Jehovah; Psalms 26:4-6.  Can we say our hands are clean when we assemble to worship God after spending a week being titillated by the sins of others?

              If we followed some basic spiritual safety rules as carefully as we do those for our physical health, maybe we would lose fewer to cross-contamination of the soul.
 
And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather even reprove them; for the things which are done by them in secret it is a shame even to speak of. Ephesians 5:11-12
 
Dene Ward

Again I lifted my eyes and saw, and behold, a flying scroll! And he said to me, “What do you see?” I answered, “I see a flying scroll. Its length is twenty cubits, and its width ten cubits.” Then he said to me, “This is the curse that goes out over the face of the whole land. For everyone who steals shall be cleaned out according to what is on one side, and everyone who swears falsely shall be cleaned out according to what is on the other side. I will send it out, declares the LORD of hosts, and it shall enter the house of the thief, and the house of him who swears falsely by my name. And it shall remain in his house and consume it, both timber and stones.” (Zech 5:1-4)

              In this vision Zechariah sees a flying scroll, one about 30 by 15 feet, like a billboard or, as one of my students most aptly said, like one of those signs airplanes pull after them in the sky.  Although a lot of commentators go on and on about the meaning of this short vision, it really is not that difficult.

              The scroll represents the Law.  The two particular laws mentioned represent the two aspects of the Law.  Thou shalt not steal stands for all the sins against one's neighbor, while invoking God's name to swear falsely stands for all the sins against God.  The Law always carried with it blessings for obedience and curses for disobedience.  These people stand a thousand years after the giving of the Law.  God is making sure they understand that He still judges them by it.  It is still relevant.  Nothing about right and wrong has changed, and neither have the blessings and curses.

              This vision also stands as an encouragement to those such as Joshua and Nehemiah who had to enforce the Law.  If they must make hard decisions concerning covenant breakers among them, God is squarely behind them.  In fact, even in their own homes, the sinners will find that lawbreaking will eventually be their undoing.  Anyone who has seen the results of sin in a home, whether adultery, abuse, drunkenness, addiction, or any other such thing, knows it is true.

              And now the people know, too, that their sin will not be tolerated; that they cannot claim affinity with the people of God while breaking his Law. 

              In our day, in our culture, we need the same lesson.  The gospel is still relevant.  The laws of God are still in effect.  The leaders we have need the same encouragement:  you must still enforce those laws, even if it means "cleaning out" the house of God.  And we must support them for if we do not, we are standing against God.

              Trying to do right in a sin-filled society is hard.  Surely it helps to know that we are standing on the side of truth, no matter what our neighbors might think and someday, no matter what our civil laws might say. 
 
​The LORD's curse is on the house of the wicked, but he blesses the dwelling of the righteous. (Prov 3:33)

Dene Ward

The cliché is now true—my doctor is my social life.  When you start seeing the same issues of the same magazines in four different offices, you know it's so.  So the other day I actually found a new magazine to look at:  Country Living.  Let me look through this, I thought.  Maybe I am one of the few here who could appreciate it. 

              Boy, was I wrong.  In fact, the title of this magazine was wrong.  This was not country living it depicted.  It was some wealthy people who decided they wanted to get out of town and thought the peace and quiet would be wonderful, but only a few minutes a day of it.  I know them personally.  We have several within a mile of us.  One of their homes (well, it might as well have been one of the ones near us) was showcased in a ten page spread so you could copy their decorating schemes.  Notice these items:

              Plank floors in a 15 x 20 kitchen--(Are they planning to square dance in it?)

              A pedestal sink in the "powder room"--(A powder room?  A mud room out in the country, maybe, but forget powdering your nose if you're going out to the garden in June or July here in Florida.) 

              Cabinet hardware at $25 each piece--(A $25 cabinet knob?  I mean, really, all you do is pull the thing, and sometimes you still have some of that garden mud on your hands when you do.)

              $35 each throw pillows in an all-white room--(An all-white room in the country?  Where there are no sidewalks and you have to walk through the mud to get to the steps?)

              $1400 each wicker chairs on the front porch--(I couldn't relax just walking ten feet away from a $1400 chair, much less sitting in it.  And no one in their right mind would shell peas or shuck corn in it. So what's it good for?)
No, this is not country living.  It is mere pretense.  In fact, our experience has been that these are the folks who pack up and head back into town (a 50-60 mile round trip) 5 or 6 days a week to go shopping, play a round of golf or a set of tennis, have lunch with the girls, or get a manicure.  The only thing they do in the country is sleep.  Try inviting them over to help with hog-slaughtering day in return for some of the meat and watch them melt into a pale puddle of angst.

              But—take a look around you on Sunday morning and you will find that this magazine isn’t the only place for pretenders.  Some people go to church because you are "supposed to."  That's what good, moral people do.  I grew up around a lot of folks like that.  Some choose a place out of convenience, not because they believe what it teaches.  Others go because their parents raised them that way, not out of any real conviction.  Some go for the benefits—people come see you when you're sick, someone will always help out if you have a need, and there is always a preacher handy for weddings and funerals.

              So let's think about it this morning.  Why am I where I am on Sunday mornings?  If I can't come up with an answer beyond the ones above, I just might have a problem.  I might be no more a Christian than those folks I know who are not "country people," no matter where their home happens to be located.  God expects a commitment—one of the heart, one of faith, one of understanding what you believe and why and being willing to stand up for it. 
God expects Christians who really are.
 
“As for you, son of man, your people who talk together about you by the walls and at the doors of the houses, say to one another, each to his brother, ‘Come, and hear what the word is that comes from the LORD.’ And they come to you as people come, and they sit before you as my people, and they hear what you say but they will not do it; for with lustful talk in their mouths they act; their heart is set on their gain. And behold, you are to them like one who sings lustful songs with a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument, for they hear what you say, but they will not do it. (Ezek 33:30-32)
 
Dene Ward

A long time ago my sister gave me a recipe for “Congo Bars.”  Congo bars are basically a blondie, extra gooey, with two kinds of chips in them, butterscotch and semi-sweet.  The recipe makes not a 9 x 13 pan, but a 10 x 15, and when I need a whole lot of something, I still go to that recipe.

             I have added a few twists of my own, though.  First, I toast the nuts.  The pan doesn’t stay in the oven but 15 minutes, which is not quite enough time, enrobed as they are in all that batter, for the nuts to really brown.  Believe me, the flavor difference is obvious. 

              The other change I made began as a desperation move when I didn’t have one cup each of butterscotch and semi-sweet chocolate chips.  Instead, I had about half a cup each of those bagged up in my freezer from previous recipes, and also the remains of a bag of peanut butter chips and one of white chocolate chips.  Together they made just over the two cups total I needed, so I threw them all in.

              I have never received so many compliments on a homely looking bar cookie in my life.  Things like, “Wow!  This is so interesting,” and, “I get a different flavor with every bite.  How did you do that?”  So now I do it on purpose.  Whenever I see those pieces of bags stacking up in my freezer, Congo bars are on the menu that week as the dessert I take to a potluck, or the bars I take camping, or the cookies in the cookie jar when the kids come home.  Weeks after they first taste them, people are still talking about these things, and all I did was stir a bunch of different flavored chips together in the batter.

              That is exactly what God expected from the church.  He never intended us to be homogenous groups, some all middle class, some all lower class, some all black, some all white, some totally blue collar workers, and some nothing but white collar workers.  “All nations shall flow in,” Isaiah prophesied in chapter 2, and it becomes obvious when you read about those first century churches that Jew and Gentile weren’t the only differences.

              But even in the first century, the people rebelled against such a notion.  “We can’t worship with them,” the Jewish Christians whined about the Gentiles.  “Come sit up here,” they said to the rich visitor, and gave the lesser seat to the poor man.             

              Hadn’t Jesus paved the way?  Even among the chosen twelve, there were differences—blue collar Galileans and urbane Judeans, men with Aramaic names and men with Greek names, some disciples of John and others not, fishermen, publicans, and Zealots.  They too had trouble with the notion of equality among them, but they overcame it.

              I worship with a congregation of 300.  You know the wonderful thing about that?  Whatever I need, someone there can help me.  I have a physician, a plumber, a computer whiz, a chiropractor, a financial advisor, a legal consultant, an electrician, a carpenter, and a pharmacist.  As far as the church’s needs, we have an accountant, a couple of computer techs, lawn workers, housekeepers, teachers, photographers, several Bible scholars, and a host of others who step up when the need arises in their specialty.  We have babes in arms and folks in their nineties.  How likely is that to happen when there are only 30 of you?

              Sometimes you cannot help there being only 30 of you—at least for awhile.  That should be changing too as each fulfills his obligation to tell others about his faith.  But sometimes churches are small because people do not want to worship with other types of people.  Why should there be a small black group and a small white group in the same town except that people do not want to be together?  Shame on us for letting our comfort zones become more important than the good of the Lord’s kingdom in that particular locality. 

              The power of the gospel is seen not only in the changes in our lives, but in the way people of different backgrounds, cultures, and classes love one another.  Jesus prayed that we would all be one “so the world may know that you sent me.” 

              We have people who raise their hands when they sing, and people who don’t.  We have song leaders who lead more modern, syncopated music, and those who stick with the old standards.  We have people “raised in the church,” and those who are new to it; some who grew up knowing right from wrong before they were knee-high, and others who came to us from rehab.  There may be a different flavor in every bite, but we all get along.  To do otherwise would make a mockery of the plan of salvation. 

              “All have sinned,” and we are all saved by the grace of the same God.  That’s the only sameness about us that really matters.
 
May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. (Romans 15:5-7)
 
Dene Ward
 
Click on Dene's Recipes if you want to make your own Congo bars.

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

In our culture, most history books are written to record events for posterity.  Often, great pains are taken to give a balanced, nonpartisan account of those events.  Sometimes history books are written with the aim of bolstering a political viewpoint, but largely academic histories are written with the intent to simply tell what happened.  This is not the way ancient historians wrote history.  From Herodotus to Plutarch and on to the end of the Roman Empire, histories and biographies were written to teach life lessons. A great man’s heroic qualities were held up to be emulated and his failures were studied to be avoided.  For some reason all this occurred to me as I was reading David McCullough’s book on the Wright brothers.  So I read the book to see what I could learn from it which could be applied to my life.

The Wright brothers were known for their work ethic and their patience.  The Wrights were industrious almost to a fault.  Before they took it upon themselves to invent aeronautics, they started a newspaper while still in their teens.  They started their bike shop, working 10-12 hour days, and then went home to work on renovating their house.  When they decided to learn how to fly, they continued to run their bike shop and worked on their flying machines in their spare time.  It took better than 10 years before they perfected their flight method.

Not only were the Wrights willing to work hard, but they were patient in the face of numerous setbacks. They first learned to control a glider in flight using a method of wing warping that closely mimicked what birds do to maintain balance in flight.  The theory was good, but implementation was an on-going process that involved several minor crashes.  They would get up, dust themselves off, repair the damage to their glider and make whatever revisions experience taught them were necessary.  

They discovered that the mathematical tables in text-books regarding the shapes wings needed to have to maintain lift were wrong.  They set about to re-do the experimental work necessary.   They built a small wind tunnel and spent many hours over a period of weeks making their determinations.  Once they had a successful powered flight, in 1903, they continued to work, finally showcasing their flyer before the world in 1909.  While others had made flights in the interim, the Wrights set and reset every record for length of flight, altitude achieved, and duration of flight while stunning all on-lookers with the complete control they had over their craft.  Their patient, steadfast work had borne fruit; they ushered in the age of mechanized flight.

I hope the application to the Christian life is obvious.  We are to patiently work for our Lord.  Not that our works can earn our salvation, no, but as servants of God, we are to be busily serving Him.  A few passages to make this point clear:

2 Tim. 2:15 “Give diligence to present yourself approved unto God, a workman that needs not to be ashamed, handling aright the word of truth.”

The word translated “give diligence” in the ASV is defined by Strong’s this way: make effort, be earnest, give diligent, endeavor. The bing internet dictionary defines diligence as “constant and earnest effort”. So, becoming an unashamed workman who can properly handle the word is an on-going struggle.  I can’t cram it down in one all-nighter.  It takes the patient work of years, overcoming many obstacles along the way, chiefly my own ignorance and arrogance.

But wait, there’s more:

Heb. 4:11 “Let us therefore give diligence to enter into that rest, that no man fall after the same example of disobedience.”

Having just discussed that there awaits for us a more perfect rest (Heaven) than the rest obtained by the Israelites, the Hebrew writer enjoins us to work that patient work to ensure we can enter into that rest. Then there’s

2 Pet. 1:10 “Wherefore, brethren, give the more diligence to make your calling and election sure: for if you do these things, you shall never stumble”

Here Peter sums up his discussion of the “Christian virtues” by exhorting us to be diligent in our efforts to acquire those virtues ourselves. Why? So that we “never stumble”. Peter also tells us to be diligent to be found without spot or blemish in the day of the Lord:

2 Pet. 3:14 “Wherefore, beloved, seeing that you look for these things, give diligence that you may be found in peace, without spot and blameless in his sight.”

So, from these few passages we can see that the Christian life involves diligent effort to learn to properly handle God’s word, diligent effort to obtain the virtues all Christians should share, diligent effort to be ready to meet the Lord, and diligent effort to enter into His rest.  It seems that the Wright brothers, with their patient and steady effort, make good role models for Christians, the difference being that our triumphant flight through the air won’t be in a bi-wing plane:

1 Thess. 4:17 “then we that are alive, that are left, shall together with them be caught up in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.”

Lucas Ward

We had no land when we first moved to the country and were forced to rent a house in the hamlet nearby.  We were only in that big old frame house for 5 months, but I will never forget it.  Uneven flooring, tall drafty ceilings, and, when we moved in, no heat and no running water.  It was January 1st.  We sat around the table in hats and coats eating oatmeal or soup for every meal, and hauling water in buckets.  Eventually the truck company next door let us hook our garden hose to their well spigot.  We pulled the hose through an inch wide gap under the kitchen window and ran it into the sink beneath, which at least made the haul shorter. 

              After about a week the well man came out and fixed the pump, and the gas man filled the tank.  Still it wasn’t warm.  Room-sized gas space heaters in the bathroom, kitchen, and living room did little to mollify the effects of fifteen foot ceilings and cracks between the planks in the floor through which we could see the ground three feet beneath.  It was the coldest winter I remember in this area—but maybe it was just that house.

              When early spring rolled around I remember standing on the back stone steps in the sun—probably for the warmth.  Keith was on his haunches petting the dog, a black and brown mixed breed we had picked up at the pound a year earlier and named Ezekiel.  The boys were standing next to him listening, probably to some daddy advice.  They were 4 and 2, oblivious to our living conditions, and perfectly happy. 

              Suddenly the breeze picked up and over the house something floated down out of the sky and landed across Keith’s shoulders, hanging down on each side of his chest.  It was a snakeskin.  When we figured out what it was, he couldn’t get it off fast enough.  It must have been four feet long, with perfect scale imprints all along its length.  It creeped me out, as the kids say these days.  I still shudder when I think of it.  Maybe that’s why I still remember that house so well.

              I remembered that house and that event again recently when we passed a fifty gallon drum by the woodpile and there lying across it was another perfect snakeskin, three feet long, hanging over each side of the barrel.  They still give me the creeps when I see them, or the heebie jeebs, or whatever you choose to call that horrible feeling that runs down your spine, makes you shiver to your shoes and your hair stand on end.  Maybe it’s because I know that somewhere nearby there is a real snake.  I can’t pretend there aren’t any out there simply because I haven’t seen one lately.

              I’m sure you could make a list of things that give you that feeling.  What worries me is that nowhere on anyone’s list is the three letter word “sin.”  It ought to give us the creeps to be around it, to see its effects on the world, people fulfilling their every lust, their hearts full of hate and envy and covetousness, lying as easily as they breathe.  It ought to make us shiver to hear the Lord’s name taken in vain from nearly every mouth, even children, or the coarse, crude, vulgar language that passes for conversation—and entertainment!-- these days.  Why?  Because you can be positive the Devil is somewhere nearby.  He’s just waiting to drop out of nowhere and drape his arm around your shoulder.  Before you know it, you will be dressing like everyone else, talking like everyone else, and acting like everyone else.  In short, you will be like everyone else, walking around swathed in snakeskin, hugging it to yourself instead of ripping it off in disgust.  

              Don’t think it can’t happen to you, especially if sin doesn’t give you the creeps to begin with. 
 
The fear of the LORD is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate... Seek good, and not evil, that you may live; and so the LORD, the God of hosts, will be with you, as you have said. Hate evil, and love good, and establish justice in the gate; it may be that the LORD, the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph…Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good, Prov 8:13; Amos 5:14,15; Rom 12:9.
 
Dene Ward