We live in a rural county.  We have no garbage pickup.  Instead we have dumpsites at several places with recycling bins and a dumpster for household garbage.  We have to haul our own trash.  Ask yourself how much trash and garbage your family generates in a day.  How many garbage cans do you have outside and how many times can you empty the trash indoors before your outside can is full?  Now, how often would you like to drive several miles to dump your trash, and how many of those big trash cans will fit in your car?  You now know one reason most of the folks out here have a pickup truck!
            But this also explains the burn barrel.  We keep two receptacles in the house—one for wet garbage and one for burnable trash.  The more we can burn, the less often we have to cart garbage cans down the highway.  We put everything we possibly can in that box of trash—junk mail, out-of-date documents, bills, and receipts, cardboard boxes, empty plastic containers and lids, plastic bottles and bags, old rags, irreparable clothes—everything that will burn, or melt and then burn.  Don’t talk to me about recycling.  We recycle in several other ways, and this practice saves gas.
            But let me ask you this. Would you ever put anything important in a burn barrel?  Of course not.  Do you know what God thinks of this world?  He has his own burn barrel, and this world is what He plans to throw in it.
            We need to remember that.  Too often we become enamored of the very things God will ultimately destroy.  Some of our favorite things in life are sitting in God’s burn barrel.  Even when we think we have our priorities straight, we often do not.
            I remember telling my little boys that one day we would take a month long camping trip out west.  We would show them all those beautiful national parks they had only heard about.  They could look across the Grand Canyon, watch Old Faithful erupt, and stand in a place where the mountains rose peak after peak after peak with no signs of modern man—no power lines, no sounds of traffic, not even a tangled skein of contrail in the perfect blue sky--a place where a thousand years before some native had stood and enjoyed the same view.  It never happened.  We never had the money or the time.  They are grown now and can understand the pressures of life, making a living, paying the bills, meeting one’s responsibilities to others, but I have always felt bad about missing that trip.  We managed one or two other things while they were still at home, but never that one.
            But remember this, no matter how good a plan it was, how good the values we were trying to instill with an appreciation of God as the Creator of all that majestic beauty, God Himself doesn’t think that much of it.  It’s temporary.  He plans to destroy it all.  The things God meant for me to teach those boys were things I could teach any time, any place, no matter how much money we did or didn’t have. 
The Bible is full of people who did not have the right priorities—Esau for one, who sold a birthright for one meal.  The Hebrew writer calls him “profane” (Heb 12:16).  Paul talks about having a “mind of the spirit” rather than a “mind of the flesh” (Rom 8:4).  And why?  Because Jesus’ kingdom is “not of this world” (John 18:36).  It is “not meat and drink” (Rom 14:17).  So many things we allow ourselves to become upset about simply do not matter.  Traffic jams?  Noisy neighbors?  Pet peeves?  Even the trials of life—precisely because it is this life we are becoming distracted with.
            For many walk, of whom I told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is perdition, whose god is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things. For our citizenship is in heaven; whence also we wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, Phil 3:18-20.  Yes, Paul says that when I let things of this life upset me to the point of distraction that my “god is my belly.”  I am not supposed to be minding those earthly things.
            So today, think about God’s burn barrel.  He has a place for the things He plans to destroy, just like I do, one that gets too full too fast.  God’s burn barrel holds things like wealth, possessions, awards, careers, opinions, irritations, Jimmy Choo shoes, stock portfolios, time shares on the beach, cabins in the mountains, camping trips out west—even this earthly tabernacle that so many try to keep looking young.  They all go in the barrel at the end of the Day.  And God will light the fire Himself.
 
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed…Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set on fire and dissolved, and the heavenly bodies will melt as they burn! But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you are waiting for these, be diligent to be found by him without spot or blemish, and at peace, 2Pet 3:10-14.
 
Dene Ward

I do not understand the recent fascination with cupcakes.  To me a special cake is huge, having three layers, interesting ingredients that make it moist and flavorful, and a filling as well as a frosting.  Then I found a recipe for dark chocolate cupcakes with chocolate ganache filling, and a sour cream chocolate frosting.  Okay, I thought, maybe these cupcakes are worth eating.
            I spent two afternoons working on these things, two wasted afternoons as it turns out.  Something happened to my chocolate ganache filling, and I still don’t know what it was.  Maybe I stubbed my toe when I measured the heavy cream and got a half teaspoon too much.  Maybe I crossed my eyes when I weighed the chocolate and used half an ounce too little.  Whatever it was, it ruined the cupcakes.  The picture showed a cupcake cut in half with a rich, creamy filling clearly visible.  Mine had a hole in the center where the filling was supposed to have been.  True, your taste buds could tell something else had once been there, but it was not there any longer, and we couldn’t find it anywhere.  It had simply disappeared, leaving me with just another cupcake, and I was supremely disappointed.
            I wonder if God does not sometimes feel the same about us.  Yes, we must live in a world of sin and evil and hatred and all sorts of villainy.  But He expects us to stand untainted, obviously different than those around us.  Too often we just melt into the crowd.  Maybe you could tell we had once been there—maybe someone remembers a person who was a little different than everyone else, but if he can no longer be found, how long will that influence last? Someone who disappears so easily will not be remembered long.
            We are the sweet filling in the middle of a sinful world.  We should be plainly visible.  We should make the world a better place to live.  Everyone should be scrambling to get to the good stuff—us!  Our speech, our actions, our forgiving nature and calming influence, the fact that we actually stand for something and stand firm in it, rather than going along with the popular notions of right and wrong which change with the seasons—those things ought to make us easy to see, not easily camouflaged. 
            Make sure you stand out.  Make sure you don’t become part of an amalgamation that makes you just another face in the crowd, a hole where something special used to be.
 
So then, my beloved, even as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you both to will and to work, for his good pleasure.  Do all things without murmurings and questionings; that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you are seen as lights in the world, holding forth the word of life…Phil 2:12-16.
 
Dene Ward

Today’s post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
Movies and TV series have been made about Gregory “Pappy” Boyington, the WWII ace in the Pacific, think “Baa, Baa Black Sheep.” I read the book before it was popular. One thing that stuck in my mind is a vignette about teaching. He related that he happened to mention that as he was constantly rotating his head looking for enemy planes, he would shut one eye and hold up his thumb the right distance from his face to blot the sun so he could see planes that might be coming from that direction. [We all know that the Red Baron ambushes Snoopy from the concealment of the sun.] It was a revolutionary idea to the pilots he was teaching. He had almost not said it because it was so obvious to him that it seemed to be a waste of time. This little trick spread and saved many lives, but he thought of those who died because he did not think to say it sooner.

In my work, I implement this by spreading new policies or labor saving ideas that I have discovered. I find that some knew and had not bothered to tell anyone else. Why? Others did not know and are grateful for the advice, but never tell anyone else. Why?

Paul said, “I am debtor both to Greeks and barbarians, both to the wise and the foolish.” He had grace that belonged to others.  So do we. Saving grace. If we keep it, we have kept the property of another which is a crime under law.

One need not be a great personal worker or speaker. He just needs to feel the debt. To weep for all those who have already died because he did not think to speak the thing that might have saved them. Then, he needs to return that which is not his, that which belongs to them in the first place, the grace of God.
 
Keith Ward

When I was a child we did not have a lot.  We always had enough, and our home was comfortable and above all happy, but we learned early on that happiness was not a product of wealth.  We did not eat out except on very special occasions, maybe the whole family once every other year and my parents only on their anniversary.  We never had a kitchen cabinet full of junk food snacks.  We drank water between meals and simply waited for the dinner hour if we wanted more.  But none of us even came close to starving.
 
           So Christmas morning was not a feeding frenzy of ripping open package after package.  Instead, we did this.  We took turns opening gifts.  And if it was a gift from you, you would have been the one to hand it to the recipient.  Then we all waited as the gift was opened and properly admired and thank-yous offered.  Then it was someone else’s turn.  Once again we all waited and watched.  Then again.  And again.  Until the gifts were all opened.

            So what did that do?  For one thing it made the whole process last much longer.  By the time we finished, our neighbors were outside playing with the customary, “Is that all?” expressions on their faces, as something they had looked forward to so long had ended far too quickly.  Usually they had more than we did, but it took us twice as long to get our little bit unwrapped, so Christmas lasted much longer for us than for them.

            Second it took the focus off “me,” not only on that day but all through the year.  We learned to pay attention to the needs and desires of others.  We learned to listen to them instead of just preparing our own replies to what they were saying.  We learned to think creatively.  “Dad can’t hear well enough to hear the words to his favorite CD.  What can I do for him?”  Answer:  find the lyrics online, print them out and wrap them in an appropriate sized box.  You might not think it was a gift, but he did.

Which leads us to the most important benefit, it taught us to appreciate the effect of our giving on others. When the gift was opened, we sat, eagerly waiting, not another toy for ourselves, but for their reaction to our gift.  When we really hit the jackpot, when sometimes a tear or two fell at our thoughtfulness, it was the best feeling in the world.  It took away the “gimme,, gimme,” and taught us what the Lord said so long ago, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

            That is what gift swapping should be about, not the grand free-for-all it has become.  We heard someone describe their annual gift opening frenzy , a five or ten minute process wherein no one ever knew what anyone else had gotten nor others’ reactions to the gifts they had given, ending it with, “But how do you stop them?”

            Well, for one thing, you don’t stand there passing them out one after the other after the other as fast as you can.  For another, you talk with your children from the time they can even begin to understand, about doing for others, about how good it feels to make them smile, to know you have given them something they really want, that really means something, even if it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.  You teach them about “priceless” gifts.  Then you exert the parental control you ought to have and direct the process, reminding them when they are still young what the point is—giving, not getting.        

            Lucas said to me one time, “My favorite part of Christmas is seeing people’s reactions to the gifts I’ve chosen.”  That is what you are aiming at.  If we want to make generous Christians out of our children, it takes a little effort, but God expects us to turn them into servants who serve not spoiled ingrates who demand.  This is just one way to help that process along.
 
​​​​​​​A generous person will be enriched, ​​​​​​and the one who provides water for others will himself be satisfied, Prov 11:25.
Dene Ward

When I was very young we lived in Orlando, but for this story you must remove present day Orlando from your minds.  In 1960 Orlando was a one horse town no one had ever heard of.  “Where is that you’re from?”  people would always ask, and I even had to spell it for them.  There was little crime, certainly no gangs or wholesale violence.  Some people still left their doors unlocked, and I don’t remember ever locking the car.  It was too hot!  You left the windows down just so you could tolerate it when you got back in.  It was still the day when stores and restaurants advertised in a little sign on the door, “Air Conditioned,” with carefully drawn snow caps perched on each letter.
         
So you can more easily understand that when we went “downtown” to see the Christmas parade, because I could not see over the crowd my parents sent me to sit on the curb with several other children.  They could see me from several “rows” back throughout the whole parade, and trusted me to “meet them by the light pole” when it was over.
           
But when it was over and everyone stood and started milling around, the light pole disappeared.  I was four feet tall and all those big people were in the way.  After a couple of panicky moments my good sense kicked in.  We had parked on the north side of Highway 50 three or four blocks from the parade site.  It was a straight shot to the car.  So I set off walking, and in short order found the car and stood by it.

About fifteen minutes later my parents found me.  “I couldn’t see the pole,” I told them, “but I knew where the car was.”  Of course I had no idea how frantic they had been, but they were not angry, just glad I had found my way back to a place where they could find me as well, and managed to hide what must have been overwhelming relief. 

I have many friends who, though they have raised their children well, have since lost them to the world.  I know they beat themselves up regularly, wondering what they did wrong.  Maybe nothing--God did give us free will after all.  I can find many godly parents in the Bible who raised hellions, and many ungodly parents who somehow produced some of God’s most faithful people. 
If you find yourself in that position today, here is something to comfort your tortured soul—if you did your best, then you have given them what they need to find their way back.  They may be in a confusing place right now, a place where all they can see are hip pockets and belt buckles, and the light pole they need to see is hidden from them.  But if you gave them a straight course while they were still with you, then, when they finally give up trying to make sense of a complicated world on their own, they can follow that course back where it started and find their way to God again. 

What is the hardest part of all this?  The waiting.  In fact, you may not live to see their return, but now it’s time for you to have that faith you tried so hard to instill in them.  You showed them the path, and if they have the heart, they will find it.  There will still be a Father looking down the road, waiting to welcome them home, even if you are gone and cannot do it yourself.  Hang onto that hope, and don’t ever let it go.
 
I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants." And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate.  Luke 15:18-24.
 
Dene Ward

I had heard of “Dutch cocoa” for a long time, assuming it was a special kind made in the Netherlands.  I finally discovered that “dutch” has nothing to do with its origin.  “Dutching” is a process which removes some of the acid from the cocoa, supposedly enhancing its browning ability and making the chocolate flavor more pronounced.  I found some a few years ago and proceeded to make all my usual chocolate recipes, expecting them to be transformed into something even more wonderful than before.  I was disappointed.  Everything turned nearly black, looking and tasting exactly like Oreos.  Aha!  At least I had discovered that Nabisco uses dutched cocoa to give those iconic cookies their signature flavor and color.
 
           I am afraid that, at least in this area, I remain plebeian and unrefined.  I do not want my Mississippi Mud Cake, my Texas Sheet Cake, my Wellesley Fudge Cake, nor even my plain old fudge brownies to taste like Oreos.  And the frosting on a chocolate cake should never be darker than the cake—it is just not right somehow.

            I find that is the way I feel about a lot of things.  Dumplings should be flat, not puffy, waterlogged biscuits; cookies should be chewy or crisp, never cakey; and tea should be sweet, not bitter, while coffee should be black, not sweet. 

            And in the spiritual arena, Bible classes should be classes.  I need to attend with a mindset to learn, not to show off how much I already know.  Would we ever allow our children to teach their own classes from their desks?  Yet for some reason we think that those old “read a verse and comment” classes are great.  The more people talk, the better the class, some say, when often the opposite is true.  When one verse is divorced from its context, all sorts of strange concepts arise.  The more people talk, the more confused the babes in Christ may become.  And really, shouldn’t what the teacher has spent hours preparing be far better than anything any of us can come up with off the cuff?  Discussion is one thing; allowing the students to teach the class is quite another.

            The word “class” necessarily involves hearing something new, or at least challenging.  It may mean I have to think deeper thoughts than usual, that I may actually need to go home and study on my own to fully appreciate what I have been told.  Yikes!  I might actually need to put in a little more effort than sitting on a pew for an hour.

            In the same vein, sermons should be sermons, not Rotary Club talks.  Once again that involves the idea of being challenged to be a better person, to change some area of my life, even, perhaps, to admit wrong at least to myself and God.  Can’t have that, can we?  Why, someone might be offended.  If no one ever goes away offended (in our use of the term, not the Bible’s), I think it is a safe bet that a real sermon has never been preached.  “Thou art the man,” is difficult to say without someone knowing he is being confronted.

            So stop expecting Oreos where there should be none.  They are fine in their place, usually with a glass of milk at the kitchen table, but don’t put them on the menu at a four star restaurant.   

            We should feel that way whenever anyone tries to insult our intelligence with Bible classes that are not classes and sermons that are not sermons.  We should want the pure, unadulterated word of God “in season and out of season,” which translates, “whether we want to hear it or not,” whether it is easy or not, and we should want to go deeper and deeper, applying it in our lives, finally transforming us into what God would have us be. 
 
And they read in the book, in the law of God, distinctly; and they gave the sense, so that they understood the reading.  And all the people went their way to eat and to drink, and to send portions and to make great mirth, because they had understood the words that were declared unto them, Neh 8:8,12.
 
Dene Ward

We had a long drive ahead of us that day, one on unfamiliar winding backroads, so we were both watching carefully for hairpin turns and highway numbers which seemed to rise up out of nowhere.  More than once we nearly missed a turn.

            At least the scenery was beautiful, hills carpeted in autumn colors, green valleys and lakes reflecting the clear blue skies, red barns, silver silos, white rail fencing snaking over the rolling pastures.  Then suddenly we passed an old homestead.  The barn had fallen in on itself, the fencing was obscured by weeds and grass.  Even the foundation lay in a heap of crumbled rubble—except for the red brick fireplace that stood straight and solid in the center of the home site.

            I couldn’t help but wonder how many fires had warmed the house when it stood, and how many generations had gathered around that hearth before the house was finally destroyed.  And wasn’t it intriguing that something big enough and strong enough to destroy a house would leave a fireplace completely unscathed?  No crumbling, no cracks, not even any smoke damage.

            Hearths have symbolized warmth, security and traditional family values for centuries.  Just as today our kitchens tend to be the center of the home, the hearth was that center in earlier times.  And just like that fireplace that stood alone after the destruction of the house, when our life takes a bad turn, the home and family you come from can be the reason you make it through those times.

            The values instilled by your parents can make you or break you.  Work ethic, determination, integrity, honesty, and above all, service to God and others—these are the things that will help you stand when others fall.  And these are the things your children need to see and hear in you for exactly the same reasons.

            The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, the old saying goes, but it’s actually a pair of hands, maybe 3 or 4 pairs—parents and grandparents that mold young minds through teaching and especially example.  God meant for us to be their role models, not some famous athlete, singer, or actor, not some politician or businessman, not even some big name preacher.

            Long after you are gone, that fireplace will stand in your child’s heart.  No matter what comes his way, what you have taught him will see him through.  Be sure you have laid the bricks well.
 
Things that we have heard and known, that our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done…which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments; Ps 78:3-7.
 
Dene Ward

This time of year we stuff a lot of things—turkeys, stockings, and all too often, stomachs.  However, there is one thing we ought to be stuffed with all the time—the Spirit.  Yet we too often judge one another about this very thing.  Is he filled with the Spirit?  No, you can just watch him during the services and tell, right?

            A long time ago, when Keith was still a young preacher, he caught sight of one of the elders frowning during his sermon.  Afterward, he asked the older man if he had a problem with the lesson.  He was surprised at Keith’s query.  “Of course not.  It was fine,” came the reply.  When Keith told him he had been frowning the man laughed and said, “Oh that.  I just had a little indigestion tonight.”

            We are too quick to leap to conclusions about one another when we ought to be paying attention to ourselves.  Was that elder filled with the Spirit?  Well he was obviously filled with something, but whether or not it was the Spirit had nothing to do with how he looked.  Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of Jesus’ admonition in John 7:24--Judge not according to appearance, but judge righteous judgment. 

            We are also too prone to judge ourselves this way.  When I see people with ebullient personalities, who hug everyone in sight, who sing loud and pray long, whom everyone gushes over as the “best example of a Christian I have ever seen” precisely because they are so “out there” with it, it makes me wonder about myself.  I don’t bubble, I am not demonstrative, and, though I often sing loudly, it’s more often because I am getting older so my range is shrinking, and I can’t get that high note on pitch at anything less than 80 decibels.  What is wrong with me?  Why don’t I have a Spirit-filled life after all these years?  Am I nothing but a fact-filled shell of a Christian?

            Paul tells us in Eph 5:18-21 how to tell if we are filled with the Spirit, and it has nothing to do with how loud we are and how many people we hug.

            And be not drunken with wine, wherein is riot, but be filled with the Spirit; [How?] 1) speaking one to another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord; (2) giving thanks always for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father; [and (3)] subjecting yourselves one to another in the fear of Christ.

            Yes, singing is the first thing on the list, but remember what we discovered about the “one to another” in this passage a couple of years ago.  It is not the usual “one to another” phrase that implies reciprocity.  In fact it is not a phrase at all, but a single word, a pronoun, often translated himself, herself, or yourself.  The context is not the assembly, but rather how I live my daily life.  The better translation is “singing to yourself.”  This is the singing I do throughout the day to edify myself and to praise God.  I often do that very quietly, especially if I am in the middle of an aisle at the grocery store.  Yes, people walking by probably hear a susurration of melodic noise, maybe even a word or two, but I am doing the singing for myself, especially if I have had a bad morning and need to calm down.

            A person who is filled with the Spirit “gives thanks always.”  Do I?  Or do I only thank God “for being so good” when I get what I want, and then rail at him with, “Why me?” when I don’t?  Do I recognize my blessings as easily as my problems?  A grumbling heart is not filled with the Spirit.

            Then there is the most telling factor, probably the most difficult one.  Do I submit myself to my brethren?  Notice, this is the same Greek word used of a wife’s submission to her husband (Col 3:18), and our submission to the government (1 Pet 2:13).  It is also the same word used of our submission to God (Jas 4:7)!  Do I give in to my brother or sister’s opinion even when I think this is not the best way to do it?  Based upon what I have heard about all-male business meetings, if the men there were as subject to one another as they expect their wives to be to them, in other words, if they were to obey the command in Eph 5:21 as well as they expect their wives to obey the command in Col 3:18, the vast majority of problems in the church would disappear.

            So don’t worry if you are a quiet person with a reserved personality.  You too can be filled with the Spirit, and you can know you are if you sing hymns during the day, if you thank God for all his blessings, and if you do your best to serve others, even giving in to the opinions of others when you disagree strongly.  Those are the things a Spirit-filled Christian does, sometimes loudly, but sometimes quietly too.  It really isn’t that difficult to tell.
 
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self-control; against such there is no law. If we live by the Spirit, by the Spirit let us also walk. Let us not become vainglorious, provoking one another, envying one another. Gal 5:22, 24-26.
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

In Acts 5, the Apostles are brought before the Sanhedrin who are enraged that they have turned Jerusalem upside down by teaching Jesus and the resurrection. After some deliberation, the Sanhedrin had the Apostles beaten and then ordered them not to continue preaching Jesus. Given Jewish custom each Apostle was probably beaten 39 times with a cane. This was not a minor punishment to shake off easily. Then comes Acts 5:41 “They therefore departed from the presence of the council rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the Name.”

I have never understood that verse. I mean, the words are easy enough to understand. I know what the sentence means, but I have never been able to grasp how they could feel that way. “Rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer”? It doesn’t make sense! One of the outstanding things about the Bible is how human it is. The people described in it act like people would normally act in those circumstances. Even when the cultures differ, we can understand why people with those cultures would act the way the Bible says they act. Except this verse. In all the Bible, this is the verse that has always rung untrue for me: these are supermen, not real people! I’ve heard sermons and sat in Bible classes about this bit of scripture and the preachers/teachers try their best to explain, but my biggest impression of those sermons/classes has always been that they don’t really fathom the idea either. Really, how can anyone think that it is an honor to suffer? Keeping the faith through suffering, yes. But to be counted (or considered) worthy to suffer is an honor? I don’t get it.

Or didn’t until after I had completed teaching my class on Job. A few weeks after I had concluded that class I thought of Acts 5 and a lightbulb went off. You see, in the class we had discussed how God had carefully picked Job as the person to go through these trials. Notice that in Job 1 it is God who calls Satan’s attention to Job by holding Job up as an exemplar of what a righteous person should be. By allowing Satan to persecute Job, God was proving that the righteous will love Him because of who He is, not because of blessings being showered down. Job lived that. Instead of cursing God, as Satan predicted, Job glorified God and worshipped. Satan was proven wrong and is not heard from again in the book. God had carefully picked Job as the one who could undergo suffering and triumph in his faith. Oddly, it was a compliment from God that Job was allowed to suffer.

Think about your job. Doesn’t the boss have certain people he goes to when really tough tasks come up? They are the best workers he has available. He isn’t punishing those people with hard work, he just knows that they are best equipped to handle it. The hard task shows his confidence in those employees and is, essentially, a compliment. So it is when we are allowed to suffer for the Name of Jesus. God understands that we can handle those trials and come through for Him. (1 Cor. 10:13). It is an honor to be chosen to suffer for Him.

Let me tell you, if God were to replay the events of Job today, He wouldn’t pick me as the person He held up to Satan. When I said that, most/all of my class nodded in agreement that they would not be picked either. It takes true spiritual maturity and deep faith to accept all that Job handled in those first two chapters and to then say “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord”. In picking Job, God considered him worthy to suffer for Him. I’m not sure there is a higher compliment God gives. And this is why the Apostles rejoiced that they had been considered worthy. It reinforced for them God’s faith in them. And that would make anyone feel good.

If I never find myself suffering for Christ, maybe it is because He has no confidence in me. In that case, I need to step it up so that I may join in the Apostles’ rejoicing one day.
Lucas Ward

I make a shopping list every week.  When you live thirty miles from town and the price of gas has risen so high, you learn to plan.  Running up to the store for a forgotten item is not in the works.
             I know what I am going to cook each night that week, what I need for each dish, what is missing from the staples in the pantry, and what is on sale where before I leave the house.  Keith and I also spend a few minutes the evening before trying to think of every other piece of business I can take care of in the same trip.  Used to be I had to make as many stops as the grocery store, the pharmacy, the dry cleaners, the bank, the discount store, the music store, and the office supply store, then fit the women’s Bible study in there somewhere, making certain I accomplished everything in time to be home, unloaded, dinner either in the oven or the crockpot or everything set out for a quick fix meal, and then the studio set up and ready for music students by 2:30 for four hours of instruction.
            I learned to use one of the reply envelopes supplied by all the credit card companies who want us to go into debt up to our ears.  I kept a stack in my kitchen drawer and each week listed all my stops, numbered for time and gas efficiency, and what I needed to do or pick up at each stop on the outside of the envelope.  Inside I put coupons and claim tickets.  When I came home those had been replaced with receipts and new claim tickets, depending upon what was happening that week.  I seldom forgot anything thanks to my “system.”
            The other day as I was talking to God, I realized that I had strayed into my shopping list format.  Very matter-of-factly I was telling Him what I needed when and how I would like it served.  I reminded myself of Captain Picard standing in front of the replicator in his ready room barking out, “Tea—Earl Gray—hot!”  Suddenly I remembered to Whom I was talking and shivered a little.  What in the world was I thinking? 
            God is not a grocery store.  He is not a waiter at the restaurant waiting for me to make my order, giving Him extra directions so it will be exactly what I want—pastrami on rye, pressed, extra mustard, hold the mayo, slaw on the side.  Yet isn’t that exactly how we treat Him sometimes?  Yes, I can tell Him all my desires; in fact, He expects me to do that, and He wants to satisfy me, His child.  But when I start expecting Him to parcel it out in only the way I want it, as if I can send it back with a reprimand if it doesn’t suit me, I have overstepped the bounds.
            We have all seen children make their lists for birthdays and for Christmas, but don’t we all think better of the children who have learned that wanting something doesn’t mean they ought to have it, that wanting for others is even better than wanting for themselves, and that they should be grateful for whatever they receive, not complain about it. 
            My parents taught me to never greet a guest, especially a grandparent or favorite aunt or uncle with, “What did you bring me?” 
            “They might think that is the only reason you want to see them, and that would hurt their feelings,” it was explained to me.  I think I need to relearn that lesson about God. 
 
And at the evening oblation I arose up from my humiliation, even with my garment and my robe rent; and I fell upon my knees and spread out my hands unto Jehovah my God, and I said, Oh my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my face to you my God; for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our guiltiness is grown up unto the heavens, Ezra 9:5,6.
 
Dene Ward