Several years ago, after our carpet had become worn and dirty beyond cleaning and we had discovered that I have dust mite allergies which had already led to sinus surgery, we decided to replace it with laminate flooring.  We were prepared for the trouble it would cause—moving furniture, even packing things up to the point we might as well have moved—but we were not prepared for what lay under that carpet.
 
             I am not a great housekeeper, but I am not a filthy housekeeper either.  I vacuumed no less than once a week, using my old Filter Queen, which was about the best model out there when we bought it. Yet when the man started pulling up that carpet, carpet that had been sitting there for a couple of decades, I was horrified.  Not just a few grains of sand, but cupfuls of sand lay on top of the plywood.  I stood there numb with both surprise and embarrassment.

              "It's all right," the man said.  "This is the least amount I have ever found under a carpet," which may have mollified me a little and given me a selling point for all Filter Queen vacuum cleaner salesmen, but still left me horrified remembering all the times I had lain on that "clean" carpet, exercising, napping, or playing with children.

                "A carpet is really just a giant sieve," he explained.  "The big pieces stay on top and you vacuum them up, but all that tiny stuff just sifts right through.  No vacuum cleaner in the world can pull it back out."

              Which means, of course, that you can look perfectly clean on the outside and still be dirty underneath.  Seems I have heard that metaphor many times before from Jesus himself.

              And it makes perfect sense.  Especially if you were "raised in the church" as we so often say, you know better than to let the big stuff pass through your "sieve" (conscience?).  But what still goes on through to your heart?  The things we call "little," that's what.  Things we allow to invade our thinking and permeate our attitudes, but since we seldom, or even never, act on them in an open way, we think are "no big deal."  So why are they important?

              Think for a minute who actually conspired to murder our Lord.  Priests, scribes, Pharisees, Saducees--people who were considered the most religious of their day.  If you had asked them if they would have ever murdered someone, what do you think they would have said?  They would have been horrified that you even asked.

              So what are those kinds of things that we allow to sift through?  Pride, selfishness, self-importance, bitterness, grudges, just to name a few.  Insidious things that work their evil gradually, infecting the heart of even those we see as the most pious and godly. 

            We knew a man once who everyone would have described as "honest," yet when he was confronted with something he had said that was wrong, he lied about it—even though the statement was captured on tape.  His pride would not allow him to admit wrong and repent.  That is just one example.  I have known others who did much worse yet were considered "pillars of the church," and all because of those "little" things that sifted through the carpet of their conscience.
 
             So do yourself a favor today, and on regular occasions after today.  Pull up the carpet on your heart and search for the little things.  You might be surprised, and even horrified, at what you find.
 
​“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean. (Matt 23:25-26)
 
Dene Ward

“Are you looking for a sign?  This is it!”
 
             We saw that on a highway somewhere when we were traveling, and under it the address of the local church.  I laughed then, but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea.  People are still looking for a sign, just as they were in Jesus’ day.

              I have heard a lot of talk about roadside signs in my lifetime, many of them negative, and I understand the concern.  The church is an undenominational entity and those signs, if they are not carefully worded, can teach things we are trying not to teach. But can I say this one thing about them?  Through the years, many people have shown up at various church doors where I worshipped because of the sign.  They remembered it from childhood.  Or maybe they remembered a neighbor who acted differently than their other neighbors, who helped their family when no one else did.  They remembered other neighbors, people who faced their own tragedy and came through it with a smile and faith intact.  Maybe they remembered the times that neighbor invited them to church and now they are in the middle of a crisis and they see a sign in front of a building that looks awfully familiar, one like the sign where their neighbor faithfully attended year after year no matter what was happening in their lives or in the world.

              That is certainly one benefit of those signs that people, including me, sometimes wish weren’t there any more, or were worded much differently.  But maybe this is what we need to concentrate on: that sign wouldn’t have done a thing in the cases I mentioned if the remembered people hadn’t been the kind of people they were. 

              Our lives are supposed to be the sign.  In a world where “Christian” can mean anything and everything, you should still be able to tell a genuine one by how he acts.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven, Matt 5:16.  If you really want people to be interested in your faith, then show them a faith worth being interested in.

              A lot of people in Jesus’ day wanted the other kind of sign.  What did Jesus have to say about that?  Then some of the scribes and Pharisees answered him, saying, “Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.” But he answered them, “An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah, Matt 12:38,39.  Jesus knew that a miraculous sign would do no good.  He said as much in the parable where the rich man desired Abraham to send Lazarus back from the dead as a sign to his brothers, but was told, “If they will not hear the Law and the prophets, they won’t hear if someone comes back from the dead.”  The sign on Mt Carmel ultimately did no good either.  The next morning Jezebel was still in power, able to threaten Elijah and send him running.

              No, the signs that really matter are the ones we act out in front of our friends.  Those are the signs that spark their interest and lead them to ask questions, signs that will eventually start them reading the Word of God and finding their way to Him.  Miracles didn’t work for Jesus, and he steadfastly refused to send a sign at their request.  Though he had done so many signs before them, they still did not believe in him, John 12:37.  What worked were his words and the life he lived, and that’s what works today.

              You are the sign people are looking for.  Word it carefully.
 
Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, and not frightened in anything by your opponents. This is a clear sign to them of their destruction, but of your salvation, and that from God, Phil 1:27,28.
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
The biker leader stood before our church, beautiful "sleeves" from wrist to upper arms. His moniker is "Sober Joe" because at that time, he had been clean for about 20 years (he still is clean). Haltingly, he said how honored he felt to read the scripture because a little more than a year before, he was "among the lost. And, now, I am reading God's Word to you."

Paul commanded Timothy, "Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching" (1Tim 4:13).  In that day, only a few could afford a copy of even a page of the Bible.  Thus, the reading at church was the only opportunity most had to learn the word of God.

In sharp contrast, in many churches today, the scripture reading is assigned to the men who can do little else but wish to participate in the services, or to a boy for training and encouraging purposes.  That most of the congregation turn to the passage and read along shows they have been conditioned to expect a muttered, barely understandable reading.  Does this show proper respect to God's word?  Those who read well are seldom allowed to do so for that would take something away from those who can do nothing else.  When, in fact, those often cannot even read the word with proper respect and clarity.

The reading of scripture should be a strong part of our worship.  First, we must teach this along with the proper honor and respect for God's word by both the reader and by the hearers.  Before the advent of printing, even illiterate people could memorize readings upon hearing them once.  We cannot do that, but both the reader and hearers can give that level of attention to the word of God. Joe had obviously practiced and was prepared to honor the word as God's.

In our culture, we stand to show respect, for the bride, for the national anthem, for the funeral, etc.  How much more should we stand for the public scripture reading?

Once upon a time, I insisted that the citation not be announced until after the scripture was read.  Turning to the passage to "read along" inadvertently communicates that the verbal reading is not very significant.  What is the reader's motivation to read with passion, to learn to read punctuation, to enunciate?  Those who care are reading it anyway and the others aren't listening anyway.  So, anyone who can mutter and speed read through the text and scramble back to their pew is acceptable.

Men must be taught the high honor they have been entrusted with when they are allowed to read God's word publicly.  Joe was not taught this, but knew it from his new heart.  They must see that it is not sufficient to read the passage through a couple of times during Bible class and then stand to read the Holy Word.  Young men should be encouraged to first learn to read and then be allowed to do so.

I once asked a well-spoken and knowledgeable man why he would not lead public prayer.  He replied that the prayer was so important that he knew he would be nervous and was afraid he would mess it up.  Would to God that some would adopt that attitude of importance and respect toward the public reading.

Elders can assign a young man to a good reader to practice for a reading to be done a month or more away.  They can practice together until the young man is ready.  The next time, he could be assigned to a different good reader where he will learn other facets of good reading.  If he will not make the effort or has not learned, the trainer should do the reading.  Men who will not make the effort to read well can also be asked to participate in such a learning program.  Are we more interested in not offending a member than we are in honoring God's word?  In fact, might not a negative reaction show a deeper need for spiritual training than for learning to read well?

The goal of public reading is that the hearer be able to understand without following along in a Bible (which can be problematic with so many translations anyway).  I recall an anecdote told by one of the teachers at Florida College:  In pioneer days, a blind preacher kept his youngest son home from the fields to read the scripture to him in preparation for next Sunday's sermon.  If he did not understand, he made the boy read it over and over until it was clear to him.  It was said that when the boy grew to manhood, many a dispute over a passage was settled by asking him to read it aloud.  His reading communicated the meaning so clearly that the dispute was settled without further argument.  I have tried to learn to read that way.  I believe our public readings should have that same goal.
 
And Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people; (for he was above all the people;) and when he opened it, all the people stood up.  And Ezra blessed Jehovah, the great God: and all the people answered, Amen, Amen, with the lifting up of their hands: and they bowed their heads, and worshipped Jehovah with their faces to the ground…and the Levites caused the people to understand the law: and the people stood in their place.  And they read in the book, in the law of God, distinctly; and they gave the sense, so that they understood the reading. (Neh 8:5-8)
 
Keith Ward

It happened again the last time I went in.  I got another new resident assigned to do the preliminary work-up.  Since it was a cornea appointment instead of a glaucoma appointment he had not even planned to check the pressures.  I mentioned that my vision was foggy and my eye felt a little different.  Could that be caused by higher pressures?
 
           “Oh no,” he confidently asserted. “Your pressure would have to be over 50 for that to happen, and you would be throwing up by now.” 

            I looked at him and said, “I’ve been at 70 before without symptoms.”  I am not sure he believed me until he went to the next hall over and pulled my other file, the four inch thick one with more notes than he had probably seen on any six patients put together.  He read for several minutes and discovered that the obvious course of action for most patients is the worst course for me, and quietly took my pressures.  They were indeed high.  If nothing else, that day he learned that not all patients follow the rules.

            We can be a little like that inexperienced young doctor when it comes to following God’s law.  We so badly want it all spelled out in black and white for every situation life hands us--it’s so much easier than having to think and examine our hearts.  That’s why we who have led sheltered lives, perhaps growing up in the church as second, third, or even fourth generation Christians who have never had a drink, never let a bad word slip, and never even considered breaking one of the “big” commandments, can be so judgmental about others who still struggle every day.  A young Christian who came from a rough background recently said to me, “People in the church look down on me when I talk about battling sin.  They say if my faith is genuine, it shouldn’t be that way.”  We carry our rule books, measuring everyone around us, instead of using the sense God gave us, and the love and encouragement he expects of us.

            Rule Book people have another problem as well. Despite their protestations of having a true faith because it does so many works, many never truly believe in the grace of God.  Some of these poor misguided people worry themselves silly wondering whether they are truly saved.  They second-guess every decision they make; they are never confident that they are doing well.  Someone has forgotten to read John’s first epistle to them, which he wrote “so you may know you have eternal life,” 1 John 5:13.

            Finally, those folks work so hard to get every little detail right that they often miss the point of the commandment they are trying to follow.  The Pharisees are the ultimate example.  Even though they began with the simple and righteous desire to follow God’s law exactly, they eventually reached the point that they totally missed the focus of the Law.  It became a study of minutiae instead of concept.  I once read a bit of one their documents discussing the passage, “I meditate on thee in the night watches,” (Psa 63:6).  The point of the passage is to be thinking on spiritual things all through the day and night, but the next four pages were devoted to various rabbis’ arguments about how many night watches there were so they could be sure to meditate exactly that many times! That is what happens when you focus only on the rules and never the heart.  Surely none of us wants to be in a group Jesus called “a brood of vipers.”

            Do not misunderstand me.  I believe God has a set of laws He expects us to follow to the letter, but life is not always simple.  Sometimes a situation arises that is not cut and dried.  We have to actually think about what the right course of action is and make the best possible decision.  Sometimes what I feel is right for me may not be what you feel is right for you.  It is not situation ethics.  It is simply a place where God has not spelled things out, but has left us as His children to pray and meditate, and make a decision from a heart of love and good intentions, and then to trust His grace if we have made a mistake.  To do otherwise, or to simply do nothing, would be the sin, and to judge otherwise, would be the self-righteousness Jesus despised.
 
And he spoke also this parable unto certain who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and set all others at naught: Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican.  The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank you, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I get. But the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me a sinner. I say unto you, This man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one who exalts himself shall be humbled; but he who humbles himself shall be exalted, Luke 18:9-14.
 
Dene Ward
 

The Second Continental Congress met in May of 1775.  One of the many things that group accomplished was the forerunner of our current postal system.  It seemed obvious to everyone that there needed to be a reliable line of communication between the Congress and the armies.  Thus Benjamin Franklin was named the Postmaster General on July 25, 1775.  Since he was still serving at the Declaration of Independence in July 1776, he is considered the first Postmaster General of the United States of America.  The postal system may have changed some since his day, but we have come to take it for granted as we complain mightily about everything from costs to service.  But that system has meant a lot to me through the years.

           When we first moved over a thousand miles from my hometown, I eagerly awaited the mailman every day.  As the time approached, I learned to listen from any part of the house for that “Ca-chunk” when he lifted the metal lid on the black box hanging by the door and dropped it in.  Oh, what a lovely sound!
 
            My sister often wrote long letters and I returned the favor, letters we added onto for days like a diary before we sent them off.  My parents wrote, Keith’s parents wrote, both my grandmothers wrote, and a couple of friends as well.  It was a rare week I did not receive two or three letters.  This generation with their emails, cell phones, and instant messaging has no idea what they are missing, the joy a simple “clunk” can bring when you hear it.

              I was far from home, in a place so different I couldn’t always find what I needed at the grocery store.  Not only were the brands different—and to a cook from the Deep South, brands are important—but the food itself was odd.  It was forty years ago and the Food Network did not yet exist.  Food was far more regional. 

             The first time I asked for “turnips,” I was shown a bin of purple topped white roots.  In the South, “turnips” were the greens.  I asked for black-eye pea and cantaloupe seeds for my garden, and no one knew what they were.  I asked for summer squash and was handed a zucchini.  When I asked for dried black turtle beans—a staple in Tampa—they looked at me like I was surely making that one up.

             So a letter was special, a taste of home in what was almost “a foreign land,” especially to a young, unsophisticated Southern girl who had never seen snow, didn’t know the difference between a spring coat and a winter coat, and had never stepped out on an icy back step and slid all the way across it, clutching at a bag of garbage like it was a life line and praying the icy patch ended before the edge of the stoop.

            Maybe that’s how the Judahite exiles first felt when they got Jeremiah’s letter, but the feeling did not last.  They did not want to hear his message.  They were sure the tide would turn, that any day now God would rescue Jerusalem and send Nebuchadnezzar packing.  But that’s not what Jeremiah said.

            The letter…said: “Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare… For thus says the LORD: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. Jer 29:3-8, 10.

           You are going to be here seventy years, they were told.  Settle down and live your lives.  It took a lot to get these people turned around.  Ezekiel worked at it for years.  They may have been the best of what was left, but they were still unfaithful idolaters who needed to repent in order to become the righteous remnant.

            Which makes it even more remarkable that they had to be told to go about their lives, and especially to “seek the welfare of the city,” the capital of a pagan empire.  To them that was giving up on the city of God, the Promised Land, the house of God, the covenant, and even God Himself.  And it took years for Ezekiel to undo that mindset and make them fit to return in God’s time, not theirs.

           But us?  We have to be reminded that we don’t belong here.  We are exiles in a world of sin.  Yes, you have to live here, Paul says, but don’t live like the world does.  This is not your home.  Peter adds, Beloved, I beseech you as sojourners and pilgrims… 1Pet 2:11.  Too many times we act like this is the place we are headed for instead of merely passing through.

           How many times have I heard Bible classes pat themselves on the back:  “We would never be like those faithless people.”  But occasionally even they outdo us.
 
These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. Heb 11:13
 
Dene Ward

When we first moved here, the land was a pristine wilderness.  We were the only ones back here in the woods, half a mile off the highway.  People often asked, “How in the world did you even find this spot?”  If it hadn’t been for the sign on the highway, we never would have.

            Fast forward a few years.  The deeds on the rest of the parcels of acreage are finally clear and others have bought and moved in.  Oh, for the money to have bought it all way back then…

            As you come down our drive now, you pass one plot in particular where you wonder if you missed the “Junkyard” sign.  Empty fertilizer sacks, empty feed sacks, broken buckets with all their pieces, torn potato chip bags and candy bar wrappers, shattered plastic milk jugs, toys in various states of disrepair, gardening tools, rusty tractor parts and old horse trailers, torn screen segments, pieces of hose draped over fences, broken down appliances, seldom- or no longer-driven vehicles including a burnt-out semi tractor, and piles of pure garbage dot the landscape.  I knew we were in trouble the first week these folks moved in, when a used disposable diaper sat in the yard for days, and then they mowed over it, scattering it to the winds. 

            When you say anything to them, the standard reply is, “This is our land.  We can do with it what we want.  It’s no business of yours.”

            But it is, and do you know why?  Because every time the wind blows I must go around with a trash bag and pick up the litter than blows over or through the fence onto our property.  Every time a strong rain comes, more is washed down around the gate.  And should we ever decide to sell, the mere fact that any prospective buyer must go past that mess to get to us, will lower our property value.  Keith explained this last fact to them one day, and they said, “Huh?  Why?”

            Do you know what?  Sometimes I also fail to see how my life is anyone else’s business.  It’s easy to say, “This doesn’t hurt anyone, so why can’t I do it?” or, “Why does it matter how I let my attitude show?  They can just ignore me.”  In real life, that is impossible.  I do affect everyone who comes into contact with me.  I can make their days better or worse.  I can say something that will help or hinder.  I can do something that comforts or hurts.  What I cannot do is something that has no affect at all—it is simply impossible.

            My trashy neighbors have actually done me a lot of good.  I find myself thinking about these things more and more, wondering whom I am affecting every day, and hoping it is for the good.  I hope hearing about them will help you today too.
 
Your boasting is not good.  Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump?  Clean out the old leaven that you may be a new lump, as you really are unleavened.  For Christ, our Passover Lamb, has been sacrificed.  Let us therefore celebrate the festival, not with old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth, 1 Cor 5:6-8.
 
Dene Ward

When I was very small, my favorite song was “Wake Up, Little Susie.”  I am probably dating myself with that admission.  In case you are from a different generation, the song was about a young couple who fell asleep during their movie date, and were afraid of what people might think when they came home several hours late. 
 
             Psalm 103 is David’s version of the song—one he is singing to himself.  Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! ​Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, vv 1-2.  I found it difficult to see that “wake up” admonition, I admit.  But every commentator I checked, five of them, saw it clear as a bell.  One likened it to Psalm 42:5:  Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.  That one is much easier to see.  Why are you so depressed, he asks himself, when you have the salvation offered by God?  Now look again at 103:  Bless the Lord…and forget not his benefits.”

              For isn’t that exactly what we do?  We go along in our ordinary, normal lives, nothing important happens, nothing exciting happens, and we become complacent in our service and even a little despondent in our ordinariness, and forget what God has done for us.  But just think about this morning.  You woke up in your comfortable bed (check) in your comfortable house (check), possibly next to your beloved (check).  You ate a breakfast from a pantry and refrigerator full of possibilities (check).  You stood in front of a closet and chose from among all those clothes what you wanted to wear (check).  You might have gotten in your car (check) and driven to school or work or the store without mishap (check).  How many blessings is that already that you never even noticed?  How many more will you receive the rest of the day, and still not notice?

              “Forget not his benefits!” David reminds himself—and later on the people of Israel, and ultimately us.  Why is it that when something bad happens we will blame God, but never think to give Him credit for all the good we enjoy nearly every single minute of the day?  “Wake up and praise the Lord!”

              And then there is this:  while God gives us brethren to encourage us, David shows us that in the final analysis, we are responsible for our own rousing.  We cannot blame the church, we cannot blame the elders, we cannot blame our families if we fall into hopelessness and despair—it’s my business to see myself clearly, to notice when I need a nudge or a prod or even a kick in the rear.  And after I have awakened, then I will follow David’s example of leadership and wake others too. 

              Which is what this has been, I hope—wake up little Susie, or Joey, or Charlie, or Cathy, or whatever your name may be.  Do not forget the benefits of being God’s child.  Always count your blessings, no matter how trite that may seem.  David did.  He’s not a bad leader to follow.
 
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change, James 1:17.
             
Dene Ward

Chloe, our 12 year old Australian cattle dog, is not stupid.  She is, however, a little bit lazy.  She spends as much of her day as possible lying under the porch in the cool sand.  So several days a week I make sure she gets some exercise.  Keith has mown a path around the property that runs a half to three-quarters of a mile.  Chloe will easily follow me around once just to be with me, but if I try to lead her uphill and down, through thick grass and uneven ground, over armadillo holes and mole tunnels more than twice, she balks.  As soon as we come anywhere near the porch after the second lap, she is under it in a flash in her cool, damp haven.  She has had her fill of "healthy" for the day.
 
             In the summer she may not even last two laps, her tongue hanging nearly to the ground and her breath coming in heavy puffs after just a couple hundred feet, but as I said, she is not stupid.  Part of our jaunt lies in the bright, hot, direct Florida sun, and part in the deep, ten degree cooler shade of hundred year old live oaks.  Every time we hit a sunny spot, my furry redhead's pace picks up to a trot as she jogs through the heat.  When we reach the shade, she slows to a walk—the better to stay longer in the cooler shadows, head wagging back and forth with each heavy step, feet beginning to drag as she sees another sunny spot approaching.  If she finds a fresh hole to investigate or spoor to be sniffed, she will only do so in the shade.  In the sun, it just isn't worth it. 

              Winston Churchill supposedly said, "If you're going through hell, keep going."  (The attribution is an open question.)  Chloe would understand perfectly.  The only way to get out of the heat, out of the bad situation you are in, is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, the faster the better.  But what do I see?  People who lie down in the scorching sun and wallow around in the grass waiting for someone to come and pat them on the head and tell them everything will be fine.  Someone has been listening to too much health and wealth gospel.

               Everything will never be fine until you get up and get going, and then "fine" is still relative.  Life is hard.  That is what those curses in Genesis are all about.  "Thorns and thistles" is not about trying to grow a garden, it's about living a life of uncertainty, trials, illness, loss, pain, and suffering.  It happens to everyone, not just you.  If you went around the room and asked people to share, you would find that everyone is dealing with something.  The only way to handle it is to keep going until you reach some shade, even if only for a while. 

              If you need help to get out of the heat, get it.  Counselors and support groups should not be forbidden to Christians.  Find someone who has firsthand experience.  No one knows what you are going through like others who have been through the same things.  No "best friend" can help you like someone who has been trained to.  You are not being strong when you refuse this kind of assistance—you are simply making everyone who loves you suffer, too, by your stubbornness.  It's one thing to stumble and fall as you stagger through the scorching heat of affliction, and need a hand up; it's quite another to simply sit down in it and wallow like a pig in the mud.

              If a little dog knows better than to flounder in the heat, surely you should.  Get yourself up and walk—trot even--into the shade.  What will you find there?  Your brethren, a Savior who gave himself up for you in a truly horrible fashion, and God who allowed it for your sake, who listens to your cries, and who has promised that someday there will be no more scorching heat of suffering, just the cool, and Eternal shade of comfort and ease with Him.  But you will never reach it unless you keep on going.
 
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2Cor 4:16-18)
 
Dene Ward

It was a couple of years before we finally had sparrows at our bird feeder.  For some reason, it took them the longest to find us.  But which variety?  I never realized there were so many until I tried to look these little guys up in my bird book.  One afternoon, a sparrow perched on the window ledge right beside me and I looked down on his tiny red-brown cap.  Aha!  He was a chipping sparrow.
 
           You know what else I noticed?  He always has friends with him.  What started out as two or three, by the third or fourth day had become a dozen, and the next Saturday afternoon I counted 21 on my five foot long feeder. 

            On our last camping trip, we threw some biscuit crumbs onto the grass outside the edge of our graveled state park campsite simply because I had heard a dove out there one morning and Keith was hoping to lure him out into the open.  I grabbed the binoculars—even though I sat only fifteen feet from that grassy spot—and saw a sparrow.  No, wait!  Not one but two, no--three, no--half a dozen.  Keith said, “Look at all those sparrows!” and I answered what I had come to know over the months, “You never see just one sparrow.”

            This, of course, made me think.  Cardinals?  Yes there were always more than one, usually a pair, and when they raise a family nearby they bring them to eat too.  They are a bit territorial, though, and will sometimes fly at other birds to knock them away from the food.  No one else is supposed to enjoy this privilege.

            Titmice?  Yes, they come in pairs too.  But when other birds arrive, they often sit off in the azalea bushes scolding them with a tiny, high-pitched screech.  Even when I go out to add more seed, though the others fly away, the titmice will sit and fuss at me.  I keep telling them, “I am giving you a free and easy meal.  Be patient!”  But scolding seems to be their nature.  Nothing anyone else does suits them.

            And the catbird?  He always comes alone.  He pecks the suet and flies away as fast as he can.  He is the biggest bird to visit my feeder, but he acts like he is afraid of them all.  He never interacts with anyone.  He is there and gone, almost before your eyes can focus on him.  I wonder how he gets any nourishment at all.

            But the sparrows? They are not afraid to sit close together and stay long.  None of the bigger birds can scare them off.  In fact, the doves, which run up and down the feeder, literally “running” birds off more than feeding themselves, cannot run off those sparrows.  I saw a dove try to run at a sparrow one day, and the sparrow just sat there, minding his own “eating” business, until the dove at the last minute had to hop over him to avoid the collision.  Meanwhile, there are more and more sparrows coming, and my birdseed bill is growing faster than my grocery budget.

            Can we learn anything from all these birds?  You can probably see these lessons as easily as I can.  Christians are grateful for what they have and enjoy feasting on the word of God.  They enjoy each other too.  They don’t have time to criticize because they are too busy with the business at hand.  And most of all, they want to share. 

            There should never be just one Christian.
 
So the woman left her waterpot, and went away into the city, and said to the people,  Come, see a man, who told me all things that ever I did: can this be the Christ?  They went out of the city, and were coming to him. And from that city many of the Samaritans believed on him because of the word of the woman who testified, John 4:28-30,39.
 
Dene Ward
 

For people who are quick to quote John 4:24, that our worship must be “in spirit and in truth” and then simplify that to doing right things with the right attitude, which only begins to touch that statement, we certainly do a lot of “worshipping that which we know not” (4:22). 
 
             So tell me, when you sing “A Mighty Fortress” and you reach the second verse, what exactly do you think you are calling the Lord when you sing, “Lord Sabaoth his name?”  No, it is not “Lord of the Sabbath,” which is what I thought for many years

              Sabaoth is the Greek transliteration of the Hebrew word Tzebhaoth.  I don’t even pretend to be a Greek or Hebrew scholar, but I can read English fairly well.  The word means armies or hosts.  In fact, it can even refer to a specific campaign the army might be involved in at any given time.  It is above all a military word.  So any time you see “Lord of hosts” in your Bible you are seeing the word Sabaoth or Tzebhaoth, depending upon whether you are reading the Old Testament or the New.

              I cannot find the actual Hebrew word un-translated in any English version of the Old Testament—it is always converted to “LORD of hosts” or “Jehovah of hosts.”  But you can find Sabaoth un-translated in the older versions of the New Testament in Romans 9:29 and James 5:4. 

              And Isaiah cries concerning Israel, If the number of the children of Israel be as the sand of the sea, it is the remnant that shall be saved: for the Lord will execute [his] word upon the earth, finishing it and cutting it short. And, as Isaiah hath said before, Except the Lord of Sabaoth had left us a seed, We had become as Sodom, and had been made like unto Gomorrah, Rom 9:27-29.

              This passage is twice as powerful when you understand the meaning of the word.  The Lord, who commands all the powers and armies of the universe, could easily have wiped Israel off the earth.  But in His mercy, He spared a remnant, Isaiah says.  Paul’s point is that God has in the past come close to obliterating the Jewish race, and He will have no trouble doing it again if necessary.  That’s the kind of power He has.

              Behold, the hire of the laborers who mowed your fields, which is of you kept back by fraud, cries out: and the cries of them that reaped have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, James 5:4.

              This passage makes you just as shivery.  Anyone who cheats the laborers of their hire should remember that the Lord of Sabaoth hears their cry and is there to defend them.  Do you really want the Lord of hosts with all His armies of angels and spiritual beings fighting you?

              Now look back at the song.  “For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe; his craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate, on earth is not his equal.”  That may well be said about Satan, but we have Lord Sabaoth on our side—the Lord of hosts, the commander of all the spiritual forces of good “and He must win the battle.” 
 
             We miss so much when we don’t care enough to research the songs we are singing.  In fact, I have heard people complain about “all this archaic language.”  If it’s in the Bible, people, we ought to care, and if we believe all those pet scriptures we always quote, we will want to “sing with the spirit and the understanding,” 1 Cor 14:24.  The context of that passage may be spiritual gifts, but the meaning in every context is that what we sing must be understandable and edifying, and that requires some effort on our parts, not simply deleting certain hymns from our repertoire because we don't understand them and won't work to find out what they mean.  All those "ignorant" people, as we call them, hundreds of years ago knew what they meant. 

              Let’s see if we can practice what we preach.
 
​The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. — Selah, Psa 46:7.
 
Dene Ward