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

It is easy to read a passage and go right past an important thought without catching the Holy Spirit’s intent. This is a major reason those of us who have been studying for years are still discovering new truths.

It is also the reason I do not mark up my Bible. When your Bible has underlines, highlights and notes, all you see when you return to a passage is the same points you marked the last time, or wrote. It is difficult to see or think anything else.

Such a verse is Heb 12:1-3, “Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of [our] faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising shame, and hath sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”  We often jump right to the cross and to our need to look to him for an example without considering his motivation.

“Who for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising shame”

What was “the joy set before him,” Jesus, that made the cross worthwhile? Years ago, I did a Lord’s Supper talk in which I stated the following position.

First, it cannot be Heaven, or returning to the Father. He had those before he came. If that were his goal, he need not have become incarnate in the first place. Or, as late as the betrayal night, he said that he could ask the Father and receive deliverance by legions of angels. No, the cross was not necessary for returning to the Father, neither was any form of death.

So what one thing did the cross gain? He endured the cross for us. We are the “Joy set before him”; the goal that kept him nailed there instead of crying out for the angels of deliverance. Considering him doing so is our motivation for perseverance, per vs 3. We see this more easily if we think about it in abstract terms--he endured for the church, his bride, his body. Otherwise, we must face things inside us that we hope no one else ever finds out, not even our spouses. We know that it is a joke to think that we personally could ever be a joy to the Lord sufficient for such a sacrifice.

But it is true, that is the Holy Spirit’s meaning. You, with all the warts, blemishes and faults that you have not overcome with grace yet (because you have not applied yourself to grace with sufficient devotion), YOU are so great a joy to Jesus that he died that shameful death willingly and with the joy of anticipation of having you for his friend. He is not ashamed to call you “family” (Heb 2:11).

If that is true for you, then I can hope that it is for me too, though, having known better for so long and having not gotten any better than this keeps me doubting.

Let us then “not wax weary fainting in [our] souls”.

Keith Ward

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven, Matt 6:10.

            All my life I have thought of this in a passive sense.  I pray for something, just as the Lord did in Matt 26:39, 42, and then add, “But thy will be done,” as if God is the only who expected to do His will.  Then suddenly one day I thought, “Doing God’s will is the simple definition for obedience.”  If I am praying for His will to be done, I have an obligation to do that will myself.

            I cannot pray, “Thy will be done” if I look at one of his commands and say, “But God wouldn’t mind if…”  I can’t expect an answer to my prayers if my answer to His will is, “I do well at everything else and this is such a small thing.”  If I do not obey in even one instance I am not doing His will.

            So I did a quick little study.  I may have thought that “God’s will” had more to do with what He does, but I was wrong.  Notice the following.

            “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven, Matt 7:21.  A lot of people out there go around doing “good deeds,” but if doing God’s will doesn’t come first, it isn’t worth a thing.

            For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother, Matt 12:50.  You are not in the Lord’s family if you are finding excuses for your disobedience.

            Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work, John 4:34    If you want to follow in his footsteps, doing the Father’s will must become an essential of life, every bit as much as food.

            If anyone's will is to do God's will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority, John 7:17.  You can’t go around claiming to know Jesus if you are not obeying the Father.

            Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect, Rom 12:2.  The only way to know God’s will is to change your life.

            For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality, 1Thess 4:3.  You are not doing the Father’s will if you are engaging in sexual sins of any kind.

            Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you, 1Thess 5:18. You are not doing God’s will if you are whining and complaining about your station in life, about your trials, about the suffering you must deal with, especially those due to your faith.

            For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised, Heb 10:36.  It isn’t always easy to do the Father’s will and the task is never completed.  One good deed doesn’t mean your work is finished.

            [God will] equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen, Heb 13:21.  No matter how hard it seems, he will see that you have whatever you need to do His will.  If you didn’t manage to do it, it was your fault, not His.

            The next time you end a prayer, “Thy will be done,” remember that you are as much responsible for that as He is.  If you aren’t willing to do His will in every aspect of your life, why should He believe you mean it when you pray?  And why should He do what YOU want, when you won’t do what HE wants?

Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for human passions but for the will of God, 1Pet 4:1-2.

Dene Ward

This is an old one, but the lesson is always current--for someone out there.

            Magdi is now eleven years old.  She was the first dog we ever had that would not only chase a ball and bring it back, but catch it in the air like a fly ball, or chase a ball on the bounce, leaping four feet into the air to catch it.  If you said, “Bring me a ball,” she ran to the nearest one, picked it up, and brought it to you.  If you said, “Give it to me,” she would drop it on the ground next to your feet or place it in your hands if you bent over.  It was almost as if she really understood English.

            She also loved to play “soccer,” chasing a soccer ball around the field, then guarding it when one of us ran up as if to take it away, and take off again after she caught her breath, even balancing it on her shoulders or head or nose as she ran.  She had a large exercise ball, nearly a foot higher than her shoulders, that she would treat the same way.  Once in awhile, it rolled so fast that as she tried to jump up to grab it, it threw her over the top.  She would simply get up and go again.

             Her bones and joints have steadily betrayed her this last year.  She drags one hind foot occasionally because it hurts too much to pick it up.  Her knees are swollen and stiff and some days she doesn’t even try to get up when we go outside; she simply looks up and gives one floppy tail wag—thump, glad to see you, boss.  She has stopped racing to the gate to greet us when we come home, but if we have been away awhile, she will slowly walk until she gets there.  I always feel so bad when we get the gate closed and start down the drive before she makes it.  She has to turn and retrace those several hundred steps, but if we stand and wait at the door, she will eventually make it for a pat on the head and the words she wants most to hear, “Good dog.”

            Pick up a ball, though, and her ears stand up even if she does not.  If you bounce it, she will rise to her feet, though a bit unsteadily, and stand poised ready to run.  We have learned to merely toss it now, rather than throwing it as hard and far as we can, and she hobbles after it, all thought of pain and age and weariness abandoned. 

            The other day Keith blew off the roof, leaving piles of leaves around the house, and wads of moss clinging in the topmost branches of the azaleas.  I spent the next morning trying to “rake” it down to the ground.  Magdi thought I had something--something that might be interesting, like a snake or a lizard--and she was up instantly, running from bush to bush, even standing precariously on her aching hind legs, trying to help me get whatever it was I didn’t want in those bushes.  She has “taken care of” many snakes and lizards over the years, as well as moles, tortoises, armadillos, and possums.  It’s her job, and since all these surgeries started, she has taken her duty as my protector much more seriously.  Despite her creaking joints she was ready to work and if necessary, rescue me from whatever monster lurked in the azaleas.

            I have been reading through the Old Testament laws concerning the elderly lately for some classes I have been teaching.  What has become most apparent is how carefully God made arrangements for those and other equally helpless people like orphans and strangers, to be taken care of.  Did you know that the penalty for oppressing a widow or orphan was death (Ex 22:22-24)?  Did you know that sin is listed in the same category as adultery and witchcraft (Mal 3:5)?  Truly we need to take this more to heart than we usually do.

            But I also noticed God’s expectations for those same people themselves.  The older men and women are to train the younger (Titus 2).  In times of struggle they should be fonts of wisdom, not buckets of bitter resentments and regrets.  In the midst of fiery disputes they should be sources of temperance and cooling thoughts not fanners of the flame.

            As to the widows indeed, widows with no family who had met certain qualifications and were still able-bodied, they were to pledge themselves to work for the church in return for monetary support.  All those women were over sixty mind you, yet God said if they could still work for Him, they should, (1 Tim 5:9-12).

            What about Anna?  She stayed at the temple, prophesying every day.  She might possibly have been one of those women who worked there (Ex 38:8), even though she was over eighty.

            Simeon, who was also elderly, was still actively searching for the Messiah when Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the Temple that first time.  The Spirit sent him that special day not only to see the answer to his many prayers, but to testify to the identity of the young babe.

            People of God work for God and serve Him as long as they possibly can.  Working for God takes one’s mind off himself, off her own problems and pains.  As long as I can, I should do what I can, perhaps adapting to new circumstances, but never sitting back and saying, “Well that’s it, I’m done.”  I have known mortally ill Christians who were still talking with people who needed help, still holding the hands of those who came to visit and cheering them up instead, while only days from death. 

            I know an old dog who still loves to play, who still wants more than anything to please her masters.  I think she will probably die with a ball in her mouth, trying to bring it back for one last throw.  I hope I never drop the ball for the Lord.

The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of Jehovah; they shall flourish in the courts of our God.  They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be full of sap and green to show that Jehovah is upright; He is my rock and there is no unrighteousness in Him, Psalm 92:12-15.

Dene Ward

            The little girl stuck her head inside the door.  Yep.  It was empty.  Stepping inside, she shut the door, turning the cast iron doorknob—nearly as big as her head—as quietly as she could.

            She panned the room slowly, her brown pixie-cut hair shining in the sunlight that shone through the tiny window near the ceiling.  It did look different now.  She shoved the thick glasses higher up on her pert nose and looked harder.  Now she could see the dust balls atop the army green footlocker, the dirt clods clinging to the ramshackle plow, straw poking out of the stacked crates, ropes looped over rusty nails jutting out of the wall, dark gray lines netting the sides of clanky buckets like veins, the ridges circling the cane fishing pole leaning against the wall, empty dust-frosted preserve jars lining the rickety shelves, the delicate weave of her grandmother’s flower basket sitting empty on the bottom shelf of a drawered table.

            She shuffled across the concrete floor, listening to the grit scrape with every step.  Stopping, she leaned over and studied it.  It glinted in the slanted sunlight like little slivers of glass.  A black ant crept up to one and shoved it along like a tiny bulldozer.  At first she was startled; she had never seen an ant before, but now…  She shoved her glasses up again.  A whole bunch of ants darted crazily around the center pole of the old garage.  She skipped over but it was only an old dead roach lying on its back, so she sauntered back to the corner.

            For a while she roamed around with her head up, gazing at the pine rafters and silvery spiderwebs until she tripped over an old footlocker and sprawled over the top on her poochy stomach.  It was too bad glasses didn’t go all the way down her face.

            With the footlocker before her, she had found a new interest.  The lock hung open and she took it off and lifted the metal latch.  Her grandmother’s lace garden hat lay on top, a pair of gloves under its floppy brim.  Red and yellow flowered aprons with gnarled strings, a caramel colored walking cane, a yellow-stained baptismal robe, a pair of steel rimmed spectacles wrapped in a once-white lace handkerchief; she fished beneath all these before she found what she wanted—a huge rusty cowbell whose clang sounded more like a clonk.  She held it up to her ear and listened two times, three and another just for good measure.  Then she held it up over her head and watched the clapper swing from side to side.  So that’s how it worked!  She knew there was a metal jobbie in there but how it made the clonk was beyond the comprehension of her four year old mind—until now.

            She closed the top of the locker and set the bell on top.  Taking a step back to gaze at it, her heel landed on the rake tines and the handle slammed against the back of her head.  It was too bad glasses didn’t go all the way around her head, too.

            She set it up against the wall and looked at the floor.  It was really dirty.  And that big, hairy janitor’s broom leaned against the opposite wall just itching to sweep some.

            She took it by the middle of the handle and lugged it across the floor to the back corner.  It was longer than she was and she had to stand on her toes to reach the end of the handle, but when she pulled it down the broom end slid out so-o-o far in front of her.  After a half dozen pushes, she was worn out.  She yanked up her striped tee shirt and wiped the sweat off her face, sticking her finger up under the bridge of her glasses to get to her nose.  It was too bad glasses had to sit on her nose.  She brushed her hands off on her red corduroy pants and reached up for another swoosh.  That pile of dustballs, dirt, sawdust, and spider webs wasn’t big enough for her to quit just yet, even though a big red blister was rising on the inside of her thumb.

            But she only had time for three more swooshes before she had to stop and listen.

            “Denie!” came the call again.

            Oh well, she had just as soon stop anyway.  Something else needed tending to.  She had seen lines in her grandmother’s face.

 

I wrote that when I was 17.  It won a couple of prizes, but that’s not why I have posted it today.

I doubt that as a four year old I had any sense of other people’s troubles, but as a 17 year old I must have begun to see one of the biggest problems a trial in your life can give you—an inability to see the pain others are going through.  All you can see is your own.  All you can feel is your own.  All you care about is your own.

Contrast that to our Lord.  He led a difficult life, a poor man with no belongings, ridiculed by others and in danger more than once, yet all he did was serve anyone who needed him.  As he anticipated what was coming the night before his death, he taught his disciples, concerned about how they would handle what lay ahead.  As he hung on a cross in hideous pain, he worried about his mother, seeing to her care. 

How do we do when we are suffering?  Is it all about us?  Can we even tolerate hearing that someone else might be going through something even worse?  Believe it or not, I have seen people become angry when the attention shifts to someone else who is suffering, perhaps even more.  Is that how a follower of Christ, one who walks in his footsteps behaves?  Of course it’s difficult.  Of course you are in need of help and service.  But an attitude of selfishness that denies others the same help they themselves crave is inexcusable. 

My new glasses helped me see more than a blur of moving colors for the first time in my four years of life, yet, as the story shows, they had their limitations.  You could only see what was right in front of you.  “It’s too bad they don’t---“ fill in the blank, I have thought all my life.  Now I think, it’s too bad glasses don’t help us look inside our own hearts too.

 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 2Cor 1:3-4

Dene Ward

A lot of folks think that there is no place for “order” in their religious lives, nor for orders, either.  Order, though, is an important concept in the scriptures beginning as early as Genesis.

            One would ordinarily think that when he reads, “Noah was 500 years old when he begat Shem, Ham and Japheth,” that the order in which the sons are listed is birth order: Shem was the eldest, the first of Noah’s “begetting.”  In fact, whenever Shem is found in any crossword puzzle I do, the clue is invariably, “Noah’s eldest.”  Not so fast—I can prove he was not. 

            Gen 5:32--And Noah was five hundred years old, and Noah begat Shem, Ham, and Japheth.  Noah had his first son at the age of 500.

            Gen 7:6--And Noah was six hundred years old when the flood of waters was upon the earth.  That means his eldest son would have been 100 at the time of the flood.

            Gen 11:10--Shem was one hundred years old and begat Arpachshad two years after the flood.  That means that Shem was only 98 at the time of the flood and could not have been the eldest.

            Then we have the case of Terah’s three sons, “Abram, Nahor, and Haran.”  Was Abram the eldest? 

            Gen 11:26--Terah lived seventy years and begat Abram, Nahor, and Haran.

            Acts 7:4--Then [Abram] came out of the land of the Chaldeans and dwelt in Haran, and from there, when his father was dead, God removed him to this land, wherein you now dwell.

            Gen 11:32--And the days of Terah were 205, and Terah died in Haran.  That means his oldest son would have been (205 minus 70 equals) 135 years old when he died.

            Gen 12:4--So Abram went as Jehovah had spoken unto him…And Abram was 75 years old when he departed out of Haran.  So since he left Haran after his father’s death, he was only 75 when the eldest son would have been 135.  Abram was certainly not the eldest son.  In fact, he could well have been the youngest.

            In the New Testament order is important as well.  We have “Barnabas and Saul” in Acts 12:25 and 13:2 and 7, until suddenly in 13:13 we have “Paul and his company,” and “Paul and Barnabas” from 13:43 on.  I think all those are enough to show us that in the Bible, people are listed according to their importance, and their amount of involvement in the activity in question.  Shem and Abraham, the ancestors of the Christ were certainly more important than their brothers, and Paul gradually took over as the leader of the missionary journeys.

            So why might that be important?  For one thing look at Acts 18:26, where we have a man named Apollos who was taught better by “Priscilla and Aquila.”  If the principle about order means anything, it means Priscilla did much more than just sit there and nod in agreement, and that of necessity means that it is possible for a woman to teach a man, at least in private, without violating the principle not to teach “over” a man, 1 Tim 2:12.

            “Order” meant a lot of things in the New Testament church.  They were commanded to do things “decently and in order,” 1 Cor 14:40.  Yet in the same context we find that they were shouting out hearty amens, 14:16.  That tells me we should be careful about imposing our own culture’s sense of order upon an order which God plainly approved.  If one reads the chapter carefully, we are once again talking about doing things in sequence—don’t let two talk at once, take turns; don’t let someone speak in tongues unless there is someone who can interpret afterward.

            Paul left Titus in Crete to “put things in order.”  Among other things that meant to appoint elders, Titus 1:5.  Think about this:  He had told Timothy that a new Christian was not suitable material for an elder, and he did not appoint anyone immediately upon that man’s baptism.  Yet, here is another sense in which “order” is important:  these men obviously set their lives in good order because in a relatively short amount of time, they had matured enough to take the leadership position.  Maybe the reason there are churches without qualified men today is that those men do not have their lives in a godly sort of order.  Everything—career, recreation, physical fitness, education--everything seems more important than time spent on spiritual growth, and that is the wrong order.

            Funny how many tidbits you can pick up by simply studying one word or concept in the scriptures, isn’t it?  Perhaps the most important tidbit today is this:  God expects us to put our lives in His order, to run our families in His order, to put the church, the body of His son, in His order; always His order, not ours.  Anyone who is “out of order” will be found in contempt of that righteous Judge.

For though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit, rejoicing to see your good order and the firmness of your faith in Christ.  Therefore as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving, Col 2:5-7.

Dene Ward

            Silas is afraid of dogs.  Who can blame him?  Most are as big or nearly as big as he is and the ones that aren’t have an attitude that is.  Dogs have big mouths full of pointy teeth.  They roar—which is what barks and growls sound like to a small child.  They nip when they play—which doesn’t keep it from hurting.  And licking you is just a little too close to eating you.

            So when he first saw Chloe, Silas’s reaction was to try to climb me like a tree.  No amount of reassurance that she wouldn’t hurt him sufficed.  But by the second day of watching her run away from him, his fear subsided.  In fact, he was no longer sure she was a dog.  One morning as he sat perched on the truck tailgate eating a morning snack and watching her furtive over-the-shoulder glance as she slunk under the porch, he said, “I’m afraid of dogs but I’m not afraid of that!”

            Yes, he decided, some dogs should be feared, but at only 5, his little brain had processed the evidence correctly:  this was not one of those dogs and he would not waste any more time or energy on it.

            Too bad we can’t learn that lesson.  We are scared and anxious about the wrong things.  “Use your brain, people” Jesus did not say but strongly implied in Matthew 6.  “God clothes the flowers; He feeds the birds.  You see this every day of your lives.  Why can’t you figure out that He will do the same for you?”

            Instead we waste our time and energy worrying about not just our “daily bread,” but the bread for the weeks and months and years ahead as if we had some control over world economies, floods, earthquakes, storms, and wars that could steal it all in a moment, as if we had absolute knowledge that we would even be here to need it in the first place.  And the kingdom suffers for want of people who give it the time and service it deserves and needs.  “God has no hands but our hands,” we sing, and then expect someone else’s hands to pull the weight while we pamper ourselves and our families with luxuries and so-called future security.

            And the things we ought to fear?  We go out every day with no preparation for meeting the roaring lion that we know for certainty is out there.  He is not a “just in case” or “”if perhaps.”  He is there—every single day.  Yet we enter his territory untrained and in poor spiritual condition, weaponless, and without even a good pair of running shoes should that be our only hope.  Why?  Because we are afraid of the wrong things and careless about the things we should have a healthy fear for; not because the difference isn’t obvious, but because we haven’t used the logic that even a five-year-old can.

            And what did Jesus say to the people who were afraid of the wrong things?  “O ye of little faith.” 

            What are you afraid of this morning?

“Do not call conspiracy all that this people calls conspiracy, and do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. But the LORD of hosts, him you shall honor as holy. Let him be your fear, and let him be your dread, Isa 8:12-13.

And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell, (Matt 10:28.

“Listen to me, you who know righteousness, the people in whose heart is my law; fear not the reproach of man, nor be dismayed at their revilings. ​For the moth will eat them up like a garment, and the worm will eat them like wool; but my righteousness will be forever, and my salvation to all generations,” Isa 51:7-8.

​The LORD is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me? Ps 118:6.

Dene Ward

Keith had to have some fairly serious surgery last year and since he is 90% deaf, the doctor arranged for me to be in his hospital room as his caregiver 24/7.  He does read lips fairly well, but lip reading is not the perfect solution to the problem.  He must “fill in the blanks,” so to speak, as his mind tries to interpret the sounds his ears miss, which is most of them.  It takes a lot of concentration, and when he is tired or does not feel well, he simply cannot hear at all.  But over the years I have learned how to communicate in all the various ways, from hand signals to pantomime to pointing at people or things to carefully wording without overdoing the mouth movements or using too many words. 

            So for six days we were both away from home and wouldn’t you know it, it was the height of garden season.  When we came home I had to do it all because he couldn’t even lift more than 10 pounds for two months, let alone bend over to pick vegetables or drag hoses.  That first week was the worst.  I picked every morning, sprayed the whole garden twice, (we’re talking an 80 x 80 garden here), pulled cucumber vines covered with blight, chopped out and hauled away the old corn stalks, placed folded newspapers under 50 cantaloupes so they wouldn’t rot on the ground (a very thin-skinned variety), cleaned out weed-choked flower beds, put up both dill and red cinnamon pickles, and picked and tossed 8 five gallon buckets of squash and cucumbers that did not have the grace to stop growing while we were in the hospital!

            Of course we all know that is not going to happen.  The plants continue to grow, the blossoms continue to set, and the fruit grows far larger than you ever imagined it could.  The back field looked like a marching band had gone through throwing out big yellow saxophones as they passed.

            It works that way with children too.  I can think of dozens of things we planned to do with our boys when they were little—things we never got to.  Sometimes it was a case of no money, but sometimes we just let life get in the way.  I wrack my brain trying to remember if there was anything we planned that we actually accomplished at all!  But just like gardens, children keep on growing.  They don’t stop to wait until you have more time to spend with them, or more resources to spend on them.  They won’t wait till you get a bigger house or an easier job or a raise.  They won’t wait until your life is exactly like you want it.  If that’s what you are waiting for, it will never happen.  You have to set your own priorities and make it happen.

            Every summer I made my boys a chore list.  I am sure they remember it fondly!  No, probably not, but on that list was this:  “Play a game with mom.”  Guess which “chore” they never skipped?  Sometimes it was checkers, sometimes it was monopoly, sometimes it was even pinochle, a game they learned with some of their dad’s commentaries set up on the table to hide their hands because they were too small to hold all the cards at once.  Sometimes it was one of the board games I made to help them with their Bible knowledge.  And every day we had Bible study of some kind, whether just talking about things between the bean rows as we picked together or a formal sit down study. 

            These are just some ideas to help you along.  We have all heard the old poem “Children Don’t Wait.”  It’s true, and last summer I thought about that even more as I looked out over the overgrown garden.  Maybe my grandsons will reap a little from the repeat of a lesson that is never taught enough.

And he said unto them, Set your heart unto all the words which I testify unto you this day, which you shall command your children to observe to do, even all the words of this law. For it is no vain thing for you; because it is your life...Deut 32:46-47.

Dene Ward

Shortly after we got Chloe as a 9 week old puppy, we had a pile of dirt delivered.  Eventually it became the base for our carport slab, but for several weeks it sat there as we dealt with one problem after the other, most notably eye surgeries.  Chloe loved that pile of dirt.  She sat on top of it every day.  I suppose because she was little, it made her feel bigger, especially with an older dog who was not too friendly at the beginning.

            But she has continued to love sitting up high.  We often catch her perched on the landscaping timbers surrounding our raised flower beds, surveying her domain.  It may only be six inches higher than the field, but that is enough for her. Chloe will always love to be on top of her world.

            But even the highest she can sit does not help her see through the woods to the next property.  All she knows of the world is our small five acres.  She cannot comprehend that other dogs live in other places far, far away.  Sometimes she hears the neighbor’s dogs barking across the fence, through the woods and over the creek, and she sits up to listen, but when they stop, she forgets they are even there.

            Chloe’s world is Chloe-centric.  Despite the fact that we have a consciousness of others, we are much the same.  What happens to us is what matters to us.  How my life goes is the important thing to me.  That can cause us big problems when things begin to go wrong, just as it did for Rebekah.

“Why am I even alive?” she asked God when she began to have trouble with her pregnancy.  For twenty years she had been barren.  It was almost cruel of God, she must have thought, to give her what she had asked for and then make it seen that he was taking it back.  But God told her that she was not losing her baby.  Far from it, she was carrying twins, and this pregnancy was more far reaching than just fulfilling her desire to have a child.  Two nations would come from her, he said, and the older would serve the younger, Gen 25:23.  Yet even with those encouraging words, Rebekah still got it wrong.  She thought the prophecy was about her children themselves, not the nations that would come from them, and in her zeal to help God make it happen, she deceived her husband when the time came to bless those sons.  She forgot something as basic as this—maybe blind Isaac could not see whom he was blessing, but God could.  He did not need her help to accomplish his purpose, and his purpose is what mattered.

            We cannot see over the fence to know God’s purposes.  What happens to me, no matter how large it is to me, may be completely insignificant in the plan of God.  That does not mean He does not care about me.  It does not mean He is not listening to me and answering my prayers.  But it may very well mean that I will not understand the answer I get, or even like it much.  Sitting on top of my little dirt pile will not give me God’s perspective.  I simply trust, believe, and obey.  God knows what is best.  He really does sit on high.  He really does see it all.  That should be all that matters.

Who is like unto Jehovah our God, who has set his seat on high, who humbles himself to behold the things that are in heaven and in the earth? Psa 113:5.

Dene Ward

            After a few years of working at it, my flower bed is now one mass of yellow every spring.  We planted a few of those daisy-style flowers known as rudbeckia several years ago and they have gradually increased over time.  The gallardia died off, the coreopsis moved to the back field, and even the “invasive” Mexican petunias have waned as the more commonly named black-eyed susans exercised dominance in the bed.  Even most of the weeds gave up.  These flowers are here to stay now, and they are gradually spreading, with just a little help from us, over other areas of the property.

            But come the end of June the stems turn gray and furry and the flower heads brown as they “go to seed.”  It’s a long couple morning’s work to pull them up and toss them out to the field southeast of the flower bed.  We’ve noticed over the years that things tend to spread to the northwest, and sure enough, if we toss things to the southeast we will get an even fuller bed the next year.  What would happen if we just left them?  Ugly, is what would happen, and that is not what flowers are for.  Something has to be done if we want them to continue to flourish.

            I’ve noticed the same about churches.  The longer you sit on your pews with no winds stirring, no rainstorms, no blight to kill off the weak plants, no insects to fight, no cultivating to uproot the weeds, the more likely you are to go to seed.  Every church needs a good stirring up once in a while if it wants to survive.  When a church starts to “go to seed,” it can get just plain ugly.

            I’ve seen a church become the property of one family, where visitors aren’t welcome and no one even thinks about reaching out to the community.  It’s just there for convenience as they “fulfill their Sunday duty.” (Amos 5:21-24)

            I’ve seen a church become so set in its ways that, while still claiming expediency, things are done in as inexpedient a way imaginable because it would upset anyone to change a tradition.  In fact, they come close to considering it a sin to even think of it. (Matt 15:7-9)

            I’ve seen a church become, not the pillar and ground of the truth, but a source of hatefulness and division.  They call it standing for the truth when it’s really just barring the doors to anyone who might need a little more help than the type of new convert they would prefer.  (I Cor 6:9-11)

            I’ve seen churches so interested in keeping peace, they sacrifice purity, or let an obstinate brother have his way, even if it hurts the mission of the church in that community, or a weaker brother. (James 3:17)

            I’ve seen so-called sound churches spout nothing but memorized catch-phrases and slogans with the requisite “proof-texts,” none of which they can explain or use in its true context.  They talk about “no creed but the Bible” while explaining to every visitor an unwritten creed of do’s and don’ts if you want to be accepted by “us.” (3 John 9,10)

            And I’ve seen many, many churches become so afraid of doing something wrong they never manage to do anything good.  (Matt 23:23,24)

            The first of July I start pulling up plants and tossing them to the southeast.  Then Keith will come along a day or two later and run the mower over those old plants to help disseminate the seeds for next year.  For a while my bed looks pathetic, but soon it will be a sea of bright yellow waving in the spring breeze once again, in fact, it will be fuller and brighter than ever.  That will only happen after I turn it upside down and inside out.  Maybe a few more churches need to do the same thing.

And the Lord said: “Because this people draw near with their mouth and honor me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me, and their fear of me is a commandment learned by rote, therefore, behold, I will again do wonderful things with this people, with wonder upon wonder; and the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the discernment of their discerning men shall be hidden,” Isa 29:13-14.

Dene Ward

 

            It came up in conversation the other day when we were discussing the catbird at my feeder.  Where did the expression, “sitting in the catbird seat,” come from?  So I looked it up.

            It is a distinctly American expression, probably because the gray catbird is a North American bird.  Catbirds like to sit in the highest branches of the trees to sing and display.  The expression has come to mean being in a superior or advantageous position.  One of the first uses found is in a story by James Thurber in which he talks about a batter in a baseball game being “in the catbird seat” with three balls and no strikes. 

            You know the problem with being “in the catbird seat?”  You can get a little too sure of yourself.  Obadiah prophesied against the nation of Edom, a country full of mountains, whose inhabitants lived high above any who would try to attack their nearly impregnable rocky dwellings.  The pride of your heart has deceived you, O you who dwell in the clefts of the rock, whose habitation is high; who says in his heart, Who shall bring me down to the ground?  Though you mount on high as the eagle, and though your nest be set among the stars, I will bring you down from there, says Jehovah, Oba 1:3,4.

            The Edomites, though they were brothers of the Israelites through their father Esau, had forgotten that Jehovah made those very mountains they counted on.  That meant that He could destroy them with a word if He were of a mind to, and He was.  The Edomites were subject to Israel off and on throughout history, and were finally run out of their land completely by the Nabataeans. 

            It is easy for us to perch ourselves high above others and “display.”  Like the Jews in John 8, we want to boast of our spiritual heritage and our quest to follow the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  We are Abraham's seed, and have never yet been in bondage to any man: how do you say, You shall be made free? John 8:33.

            They bring it up again in verse 39 and Jesus answers, If you were Abraham's children, you would do the works of Abraham.    Abraham would have denounced them all.  What would he say to us, who are supposed to be “Abraham’s seed, heirs according to promise?” Gal 3:29, when pride causes us to place ourselves above the rest of the religious world as if we were more deserving of salvation.  Jesus warns, For everyone that exalts himself shall be humbled; and he that humbles himself shall be exalted, Luke 14:11.  Just like those Edomites of old, God can bring us down off that catbird seat.

            He can do that because that is where He dwells.  Jehovah is exalted; for he dwells on high: he has filled Zion with justice and righteousness, Isa 33:5.  We count on Him, not on ourselves.  Jehovah also will be a high tower for the oppressed, A high tower in times of trouble, Psalm 9:9.  Just as the imagery in Obadiah, He is a high steep place where we are removed from danger. 

            And in a Messianic passage he tells us that He will take us to new heights. And Jehovah their God will save them in that day as the flock of his people; for they shall be as the stones of a crown, lifted on high over his land, Zech 9:16.  As children of the Most High God we have an exalted position nothing on this earth can possibly match.

            Sitting in the catbird seat is a good thing.  Just remember who put you there.

Yea, they shall sing of the ways of Jehovah; For great is the glory of Jehovah. For though Jehovah is high, yet he has respect unto the lowly; But the haughty he knows from afar, Psalm 138:5,6

Dene Ward