One morning on a camping trip to Stone Mountain Park in Georgia, we were awakened by acorn shells gently falling from the tree above us onto the taut surface of our tent.  A squirrel had picked that limb overhead as his breakfast counter.  In the early morning gray of pre-dawn it was mildly irritating—this was supposed to be a vacation, after all, sleeping in was part of the deal—but when you choose an outdoor venue for your vacation, you realize that encounters with nature should be expected.

              I was reminded of that trip this morning.  Our home sits under some monstrous live oaks.  They deliver cooling, and budget-saving, shade in the summer, but in the fall, they provide a handy pantry for the local fauna.  We have done our best to shoo those varmints away for the sake of the aviary we have set up around us, both feeders and houses.  That means more acorns remain to fall on our metal roof.

              About six-thirty, when the morning breezes pick up, the barrage began.  I do not know if it is the metal or if our acorns just happen to be heavier or larger than the average acorn, but it did not sound like pieces of shell gently falling from a limb above—it sounded like a bunch of monkeys throwing coconuts as hard as they could just to see what sort of trouble they could cause.  We were up early on a Saturday morning whether we wanted to be or not.

              I have some brethren like that.  Sometimes things need to be said, granted.  Souls are at stake.  The Word of God must be defended.  But do we have to throw coconuts at six AM?  Does a preacher need to be castigated on the church house doorstep in front of visitors from the community and new converts when we disagree with a sermon?  Do we need to waylay a sister at a potluck where, even in the corner of the room, everyone can see what's going on—especially if she runs out the door crying? 

               When we do what has to be done, some acorn pieces will inevitably fall on the tent roof and wake people up—but that's the point, isn't it?  Waking them up, not beating them down.  If time and opportunity are short we may need to take a deep breath and do what needs to be done no matter what others may think, but hurling coconuts as hard as possible just to cause trouble is a far cry from the empathy that does its best to reach another's heart with as little collateral damage as possible.  That is why so many preachers will dare to remind the wayward children at a funeral, "Your mother wants nothing more than to be with you again in Eternity.  Look at yourself and do what you need to do to make that happen."  Most of the time, the mothers have asked those preachers to say just that.  They are not monkeys with coconuts; they are doing their best to be a squirrel with an acorn.

              So today, ask yourself why you do what you do.  Are you really concerned for souls, or do you just want to be the center of controversy, the one who gets to show that sinner what's what?  Are you quietly eating your acorns, or are you just a monkey throwing coconuts as hard as you can?
 
Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. Keep watch on yourself, lest you too be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself. Gal 6:1-3
 
Dene Ward

It has been 2 or 3 years or maybe longer, so it was a little surprising.  Keith was headed for the equipment shed, the one furthest from the house.  We had a cold spell and now, two or three days after the coldest temperatures, the sky was ice blue but the surrounding air relatively mild, warming in the day, as long as you stayed in the sunlight.  Which is exactly what attracted that cottonmouth.  There he lay at the front of the shed, half in and half out of the sun.

             Keith returned to the house and picked up his .22 rifle, loaded with "rat" shot.  Usually one straight to the head leaves them so dead they don't even do their customary postmortem writhe, but this one turned around and headed to the shelter of the inner shed.  Keith was sure he had not missed.  After changing to his steel-toed work boots and clanging loudly around the riding mower which stood square between him and the direction the snake had crawled, he climbed aboard, started it and backed out.  There it was—right up against the back wall.  Another shot to the center of his body and it barely raised its head.  A final one to the head for the coup de grace. 

              A Florida winter is not bad by northern standards.  Even here in north Florida where we might have several frosts and freezes a year and occasional snow flurries, we still see Northern transplants in shirtsleeves, especially in the warmer afternoons, while we natives are still shivering in sweaters or windbreakers.  The cold-blooded reptiles feel the same way about it we do. 

               We always told our boys they could go out in the woods if the temperature was 50 or under—they would be safe from the snakes.  Any warmer made things much more dangerous.  Cold air makes snakes sluggish.  A bright sun is a much friendlier atmosphere for them.  They will crawl out of their holes to try to warm up their blood.  An open sunny field in the winter is much more dangerous to walk in than the cooler shadows.

              Have you noticed that Satan doesn't have to hide anymore?  Our culture has become much friendlier and hospitable to him than ever before.  Things that used to be hidden because everyone knew they were wrong, are done right out in the open.  Just turn on your television.  All you have to watch are the commercials to see Satan reigning everywhere.  No longer do you have to go to "the wrong side of town" or down dark alleys.  He is everywhere and everyone welcomes him like a long lost brother.  Maybe that's exactly what he is to our culture.  ​Were they ashamed when they committed abomination? No, they were not at all ashamed; they did not know how to blush…says the LORD. Jer 6:15.  Neither does our culture—they are downright proud of their sin.

              Suddenly the righteous man is the one who has to hide, who has to live in the dark alleys so he won't be persecuted for his godliness.  Suddenly our society is no longer hospitable to the good, but only to the evil. 

               So what should we do?  Be careful out there.  Don't fall prey to the desire for popularity or simple companionship.  Keep yourself holy in an unholy world even if it becomes dangerous, even if you must sacrifice for the Lord, the one who sacrificed for you.

              Snakes are crawling around everywhere.  Be careful where you step.
 
…“O my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift my face to you, my God, for our iniquities have risen higher than our heads, and our guilt has mounted up to the heavens. Ezra 9:6
 
Dene Ward

We have put up several new feeders and the bird population has exploded.  We see more new kinds and more of them than ever before.  We have also seen a few new bird antics as well.

              Yesterday we looked out in time to see two doves running around the pole one of the feeders hangs from.  While cardinals and titmice usually fly the four feet up from the ground to the feeders, the doves are content to peck off the ground what falls, and a great deal does.  Pick up the binoculars and watch the seeds fly every time one of the birds “on high” pecks at it.  Meanwhile, down below, the doves revel in the raining plenty.

              Except those two.  For several minutes they chased one another around and around and around that pole, the one trying to shoo the other away from the free meal.  Occasionally the one in front got far enough ahead to stop and peck a seed, but the one behind, running literally ankle deep in food, never got a bite.

              Kind of reminds me of a few Bible classes I have sat in.  Two men wrapped up in their own opinions, chase one another around in circles with their “logic,” and neither one of them get any of the spiritual nourishment being offered that morning.  Or one man desperately tries to have his meal while another of differing opinion cannot allow it and pursues him with “arguments about words.”  In fact, if the man isn’t careful, he will usually be cornered right after class as the chase continues.  Like those two birds I watched that day, neither one is fed, despite the banquet laid right in front of them.

              Paul calls that sort of behavior “carnal” and immature, 1 Cor 3:1-3.  He equates it with orgies and drunkenness, Rom 13:13.  James puts it on a par with “every vile practice,” 3:16.  All of them link quarreling with things like jealousy, envy, hostility, and selfishness.  James even adds murder and adultery to the mix, 4:1-4.  It is one thing to have a spirited discussion of the Scriptures.  It is another entirely to refuse to consider new ideas, clinging to beliefs out of pride or dismissing a point simply because of who presented it, all cloaked in concern for words and their correct meanings while patently ignoring basic spiritual concepts like Divine authority and holiness. 

              Our spiritual meals are presented to help us glorify God, not to exalt ourselves over others.  They are food for the soul, not ammunition for the spiteful.   They are nourishment for the kind, not fodder for the vindictive.  If all we can do is chase one another in circles with the Word of God, we don’t deserve to hold those sacred writings in our hands.

              I laughed at those two stupid doves under my feeder.  Then I just shook my head and sighed.  I have seen too many Christians just like them.
 
For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another. But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh, Galatians 5:14-16.
 
Dene Ward

Chloe doesn’t have much of a sense of smell thanks to her doggie allergies, which alternately cause congestion or a runny nose.  We can throw her a treat and then sit for several minutes unbothered while she searches for it in the grass.  But her sense of hearing must be amazing.

              She can distinguish our car engine all the way from the highway, almost a half mile.  I’ve seen her sit there and watch for Keith for several minutes before he even gets to the gate, before the dogs along the lane begin to bark at his passing because she hears “him” coming.

              And she can hear moles digging underground.  We will be walking along outside when suddenly she stands at point, looking at the grass just ahead of her, then pounces and begins digging, her snout in nearly to her eyeballs as she digs and sniffs (bless her heart, she tries) and searches.  Many times she has brought out the mole and disposed of it.  This year we have had plenty for her to work on.

              Moles are small mammals, insectivores, adapted to a subterranean lifestyle.  They have tiny or invisible eyes and ears.  They have developed the ability to survive in a low oxygen environment by reusing oxygen inhaled aboveground.  That also means they can tolerate the higher levels of carbon dioxide that would poison most mammals.  They avoid each other except in breeding season and fight whenever they do meet.  I couldn’t even find a word for a group of moles.  They aren’t herds or swarms or gaggles or flocks.  Maybe that’s because the word is unnecessary since they never get together.

              Think about all that.  Does it sound familiar?

              Do you know any people with small eyes and ears, many of whom are blind?

               Why do you not understand my speech? [Even] because you cannot hear my word, John 8:43.

              In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. 2 Cor 4:4.

              Do you know a group who reuses old oxygen, failing to bring in any new work to revitalize its heart, poisoning itself in the process?

              Thus making void the word of God by your tradition that you have handed down, Mark 7:13.

              Do you know a group that avoids each other except in season (Sundays) and then fights when they do meet?

              Whence [come] wars and whence [come] fightings among you? [come they] not hence, [even] of your pleasures that war in your members? James 4:1.

              But if you bite and devour one another, take heed that you be not consumed one of another, Gal 5:15.

              If all that sounds like a group you know, even if they call themselves the body of Christ, they are only pretenders.  That is not what he gave his life for.

              I am certain you could come up with other comparisons yourself.  But don’t waste your time on that or you are in danger of becoming one of those moles yourself, festering underground in your own poison.  Just do what you can by being what you ought to be.  Moles are ugly, in more ways than one.  It shouldn’t take much motivation to try not to become one.
 
"There are those who rebel against the light, who are not acquainted with its ways, and do not stay in its paths. The murderer rises before it is light, that he may kill the poor and needy, and in the night he is like a thief. The eye of the adulterer also waits for the twilight, saying, 'No eye will see me'; and he veils his face. In the dark they dig through houses; by day they shut themselves up; they do not know the light. Job 24:13-16.
 
Dene Ward

Did you see the video going around of the mother goose leading her babies up a set of two stone steps somewhere in an urban center?  (She might have been a duck, but I am not a poultry expert and it suits my purposes here to call her a goose.)  Those steps were twice as high as those goslings.  At first the mother waddled on, but soon she realized she was alone so she returned to the steps and watched as each baby leapt to the top of the next step over and over and over—and usually fell back.  It took no less than five or six tries per step for each one, and some many more.  The last little fellow almost had it but then fell onto his back, exhausted.  Did he give up?  No, he got up and kept on trying, and finally, several minutes after all the others had made it, he got to the top of the second step and ran to his mother, who then turned and led her tiny gaggle across the plaza.

              That mother had it easier than you and I do.  She had no hands and arms to be tempted to reach out and help.  All she could do was patiently wait, honking her encouragement.  Too many times we use those hands and arms when we shouldn’t, thinking we are doing the right thing, and our children grow up emotionally frail in the process, with a warped sense of their place in the world—usually the center, they think.

              What would have happened if you had never let go of those little hands as your toddler tried his first steps?  What would have happened if, when he tried to climb, you always came along, picked him up and put him where he was trying to go?  What would happen now if every time something wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it, you came along and made it that way?  Sooner or later he must find out that the world does not run to his schedule not his set of likes and dislikes, and the earlier he learns that the less painful it will be for all of you.

              In his work, Keith has come across many young people who finally found out that their parents could not get them out of trouble as they were hauled off to prison in manacles.  Once, a nineteen-year-old probationer thought he could bypass some of the rules of his sentence, namely his officer checking to see if he was home where he belonged, because “I have a mean dog.”

              “Lock him up,” Keith said.  “That’s your responsibility because I will be doing my job, which is your punishment for your crime.  If you don’t, I have authority to stop the dog any way it takes.”

              “Bbbbbbut you can’t hurt my dog,” he blubbered.

              “YOU will be hurting your dog,” his officer told him, and finally got through.  He did the crime because he thought he could get away with it—mama and daddy had always gotten him out of trouble before.  Now he had to pay the consequences.  I wonder if his parents ever did make him do something he did not want to do as a child. 

              God gave those goslings a goose, a mother who would stand there and patiently wait while her children tried and learned and grew stronger even with their failures.  He gave a goose who would honk her encouragement when they fell flat on their backs, urging them with “love” to get up and try again.

              Some parents don’t have the sense God gave a goose when they raise their children.  What do you think will happen if you fix every problem and adjust every situation to their liking?  As adults they will be persistently dissatisfied and miserable, or constantly in trouble and probably devoid of true friends who are tired of always having to do things their way.  Certainly love them, but “learn” to love them in the hard things (Titus 2:4).  Teach them, discipline them, tell them they can do it and cheer them on.  Add a more “tactile” form of exhortation when necessary.  Give them words of encouragement, of admonishment, of rebuke, of love.  That is why God gave them parents instead of a goose.
 
Hear, O sons, a father's instruction, and be attentive, that you may gain insight, for I give you good precepts; do not forsake my teaching…My son, be attentive to my words; incline your ear to my sayings. Let them not escape from your sight; keep them within your heart. Proverbs 4:1-2,20-21
 
Dene Ward

The Environmental Protection Agency was established on December 2, 1970, at the call of President Richard Nixon to seriously address, at a Federal level, the problems arising from factory pollutants, automobile emissions, overuse of pesticides, dangerous practices in waste disposal, and oil spills.  Most of us have benefited from its oversight in areas of which we are not even aware.  But occasionally, they do seem to get a little unreasonable, in the same ways as anyone who tries to make rules in places they have never been and do not understand.

            Campgrounds, for example, have a lot of aggravating rules.  Some of them are just plain ridiculous, obviously made by people who sit behind a desk and have never camped in their lives.  Yet, I understand the problem.  Too many thoughtless people have no concept of picking up after themselves while being careful where they dump things. 

              Most state parks have a place to dump “gray water.”  We aren’t talking about raw sewage.  Gray water, as defined, includes the dishpan of water you washed your dishes in.  Ever carry a couple gallons of water 500 yards in an awkward dishpan you must hold out in front of you, trying not to slosh it all over yourself in the cold?  Nearly impossible.  And who, living in the country, doesn’t know that wash water works wonders on the blueberries and flower beds?  At least the last park we stayed at had dispensed with the gray water rule.

              I think some of these things bother me because, as country people, we are always green.  We are careful what gets dumped where, even if it means having to load it up and cart it off to the landfill ourselves; you don’t want your groundwater polluted, especially uphill from the well.  We rotate crops.  We even rotate garden spots. We use twigs to dissuade cutworms rather than plastic rings or metal nails. We mulch with the leaves from our live oaks, which we then turn under to enrich the ground after the garden is spent.  We dump the ashes from the woodstove into the fallow garden.  I am sure Keith could add even more to this list.

              God expects his people to be “green.”  Good stewardship of his gifts has always been his expectation, from our abilities to the gospel itself.  You can even find sewage disposal rules in the Law.  Cruelty to animals was punished under the Old Covenant.  That same principle of stewardship follows into the New.

              At the same time, God said, “Have dominion over [the earth] and subdue [the animals],” Gen 1:28.  He said to eat of the plants and the animals, 1:29; 9:3.  God meant this to be a place we used for our survival, not a zoological and botanical garden where nothing can be touched.  When we carefully use the resources of the earth, it will continue to furnish us with the things we need.  So we eat sustainable seafood.  We hunt in season, and eat the meat we bring home.  We raise and eat animals fed with garden refuse.  We carefully sow and reap so the ground will continue to be arable.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of that.

              Sometimes, though, the people who claim to be green are no longer flesh-colored (in all its assorted hues).  They care more for animals than people.  I know that is true when I see a “Save the Whales” bumper sticker on the same car touting “The Right to Choose.”  Let’s save the animals, but the babies are fair game.

              Shades of Romans 1--Paul speaks of the Gentiles who had rejected Jehovah throughout the ancient days and eventually arrived at the point that they “worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator” 1:25.  Our culture has come dangerously close to that.  The environment has become the cause du jour, and while I certainly agree that we should care for the beautiful home God gave us and not be cruel to animals, it is because I am grateful to the God who made them for me, not because I have less regard for humans.  I have always been that way, not just recently, yet I still know that people are more important than sea turtles, and unborn children more so than polar bears.

              So let’s be green, just as God has always expected—but let’s be flesh-colored too, caring about the people, and their souls even more than the animals.  And let us also be as white as snow—an obedient people who worship and serve the God who created it all.
 
From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work. You cause the grass to grow for the livestock and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth.  The trees of the LORD are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. In them the birds build their nests; the stork has her home in the fir trees. The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the rock badgers. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they steal away and lie down in their dens. Man goes out to his work and to his labor until the evening. O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. May the glory of the LORD endure forever; may the LORD rejoice in his works, Psa 104:13,14,16-18,21-24,31.
 
Dene Ward
 

We have recently discovered phoebes on our property, seven inch gray birds with light olive bellies and a slightly darker head.  Even though we have been birding for twelve years now, this is the first we have seen of these.  Being insect eaters, seed-filled feeders hold no interest for them, so I have never seen one from my chair by the window.  They are strictly carnivores.

              Their behavior is what gives them away—their “hawking.”  They sit on a bare tree branch and watch the ground below.  When a bug catches their eye, they swoop down for the kill, then fly right back to the same branch, and wait for another.  Sort of bloodthirsty for such a cute little bird.

              They have been using the trees on the edge of the garden, a place where insects abound and we are happy to have their help ridding the plants of them.  Now we have a much smaller fall garden, a few peppers and tomatoes, and the cooler temperatures mean fewer bugs.  Maybe that is why they have moved in closer, sitting atop tomato posts, waiting for their prey to creep by.

              And last week we saw yet another new bug eater.  Keith planted about 70% of the garden in sorghum.  The huge seed heads on these plants attract both wildlife and birds.  That was his main intention—to help feed the seed-eating birds and perhaps attract even more to the feeders closer to the house.  That sorghum patch is where we saw the new bird, a five inch olive green bird, with a yellow throat, a black mask, and a long thin beak.  My bird books tell us he is a yellowthroat, one of the many varieties of warbler.  He, too, practices hawking and being smaller and lighter he can perch on the head of those thin-stemmed sorghum plants without bending them over.  He is not there for the seeds but, like the phoebes, to watch for any bugs that crawl by.  Sometimes he is lucky and one will be deeply imbedded in the seed head itself.  All he has to do is lean over and probe with that long thin beak deep between those seeds.  Lunch, without even having to dive for it.

              That is not why we planted sorghum.  It is not why we put posts by the tomatoes.  Yet right now, the phoebes and the yellowthroats are getting more out of the garden than we are.

              Sometimes Satan gets more use out of the good things we try to do than God does.  How many times has a healthy pastime become more important to us than our spiritual health?  I’ve seen women so concerned about their figures that they would no longer offer or accept meal invitations from other Christians, nor cook and take a meal to the needy.  I’ve seen Christian men spend more time toning up their physical muscles than studying to tone up their spiritual ones.  They won’t miss a work-out, but personal Bible study is a sometime thing.

              How many times has the job which was meant to support the family become an all-consuming career that robbed a home of involved parents or a spouse of a supposedly committed and devoted mate?  How many times has the money earned led to greed instead of generosity, and a dependence upon self rather than God?

              Just because something is not inherently sinful, doesn’t mean evil cannot come from it.  Just because you intend good from it, doesn’t mean the Devil can’t find a way to produce the opposite.

              One thing about those phoebes and yellowthroats—they make an excellent example of careful watching; their lives depend upon it.  Take a moment today to sit still and quiet and really look at the things in your life and what they are producing.  Your spiritual life depends upon it.
 
His beautiful ornament they used for pride, and they made their abominable images and their detestable things of it. Therefore I make it an unclean thing to them, Ezek 7:20.
 
Dene Ward

I saw him first in the early spring, the days still cool and breezy, the sun only barely warming the greening grass.  I am not sure exactly how he reached the feeder next to my window, but later I saw him hopping down one limb at a time to the ground.  His right wing was broken, dragging on whatever surface he stood; he was unable to lift it at all.  Yet by hopping upward one limb at a time, I surmised, he had managed to get to a plentiful food supply and ate as much as he needed.

              All spring he came, usually after the other birds had eaten their fill and left.  I made sure he had plenty and he seemed to appreciate it, eying me from the safety beyond the window where I sat as he pecked the seed.  Finally his wing began to mend.  After a couple of weeks he was able to pull it up a bit.  Gradually he pulled it closer and closer to his body, and suddenly one afternoon he gave it a try and flew to the feeders out in the yard, the ones on straight poles that he couldn’t reach before.  His flight was wobbly, swooping down toward the grass in a dive I thought would crash-land, but then he managed to flap a bit and rise to land on the red plastic perch.

              His wing and his maneuvers have both improved.  I can still tell which one he is, though, because that wing healed crookedly and still bows out from his body as if he has his hand in his pocket, elbow stuck out, but his flying is straight and sure now.  He survived what might have brought death to any other bird probably because of the free and easy meal he could still manage to reach while he healed.

              Isn’t that why God put us here together?  When one of us has a broken wing, the rest of us do what we can to help.  It may be physical—taking meals to the ill or injured or those recovering from surgeries.  But far more often it is a spiritual break, a soul in jeopardy from the pitfalls of life that have left him maimed and unable to care for himself.

              And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. 1 Thessalonians 5:14

              We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Romans 15:1

              Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2.

              In this way we follow the example of our Lord:  a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench…Matt 12:20.  Just as he healed so many broken souls, he expects us to do the same.

              Sometimes it is difficult to deal with these broken souls.  It takes time, it takes effort, sometimes it even takes heartache and tears. It means we might miss a planned outing, a meal, or maybe some sleep.  Taking care of those in pain can take up your life—but then, isn’t service supposed to be our life when we give it all to the Suffering Servant?  Service by definition is never convenient. 

              Look around for those broken wings.  God expects you to be His agent in taking care of His ailing children.  Feed them, care for them, listen, advise, and if necessary, correct.  Above all, be patient—healing takes time.  If you aren’t willing to do that, then maybe the broken wing is yours.
 
Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who have an anxious heart, "Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you." Isaiah 35:3-4
 
Dene Ward

Our bird watching has spilled over into our camping trips.  Somewhere along the way it dawned on us that we could see different birds in different areas of the country.  So we began carrying small bags of birdseed and scattering it around the campsites.  I saw my first savannah sparrow at Blackwater River, my first nuthatch at Cloudland Canyon, and on our latest trip, my first dark-eyed junco at Black Rock Mountain.

              That’s not all we saw.  We had laid the seed along the landscaping timbers that both defined the site and kept our little aerie from washing down the mountainside.  As long as we sat fairly still and talked quietly, the little gray birds with the white vests hopped closer and closer down the long chunk of weathered wood, pecking at the free and easy meal.  Suddenly a loud crunch behind us caused the birds to fly.  We turned and there sat a fat gray squirrel enjoying the free meal himself, and much more of it.

              “Shoo!” we yelled simultaneously.  He reached down and pawed another kernel.

              Keith hopped up and spun around his chair, clapping his hands with every “Git!” and every step.  Finally the squirrel hopped away, not nearly as scared as I wished.

              Since he was up anyway, Keith started the cook fire and I walked around the tent toward the back of the truck where we stowed our food supplies.  There on the other side of the tent sat the squirrel, once again noshing on the birdseed.

              “Scat!” I shouted, running right at him.  Again he turned and leisurely hopped away.

              After that we were up and around a bit and he kept his distance.  But soon Keith had stepped back into the woods to pick up some deadfall for a later fire in the evening while he waited for the flame to die down to coals, and I was in the screen tent setting the table and prepping the chops for grilling.  I looked up just in time to see that little marauder headed straight for the open screen door, gently waving in the breeze.  He had bypassed the birdseed and was aiming to score people food.

              Only my clumsiness and advancing years kept me from vaulting the table.  Instead, I ran around it, knocking both knees on the corner of the bench and nearly laming myself in the process, stomping, yelling, clapping, and every other noise I could manage.  For once he showed a little alarm and scooted through the brush surrounding us.

              Keith returned and we both bustled around the tents, the truck, and the fire, cooking and laying out the meal.  Half an hour later we sat down to inch thick, herb-rubbed, wood-grilled pork chops, Spanish rice, and skillet corn and red peppers.  Meanwhile, the squirrel sat down to more birdseed.  He crept up behind Keith, he crept up behind me.  He hopped along the timber behind the fire, then tried the one behind the tent.  Every time Keith jumped up and scared him off.

              After the sixth or seventh time that I touched Keith’s hand and pointed, he hung his head in defeat.  “Let him eat,” he said, ferociously stabbing a fork into his chop and sawing with far more exertion than necessary, “so I can.”

              That’s exactly the way Satan comes after us.  Do you need a Biblical example to believe this?  How about Potiphar’s wife (Genesis 39)?  She appealed to Joseph’s natural appetites first, by far the strongest appeal to a young man.  She made it look rewarding—she was the Master’s wife after all, imagine the extra privileges he might have received.  She spoke to Joseph “day by day,” a constant and growing pressure on him.  Even though he seems to have made it his business to avoid her, finally she managed to catch him alone—now it was even easier to give in.  And boy, did she make him pay when he didn’t.

              Satan is persistent.  He comes from every angle and tries every trick.   Sometimes he comes as often as every few minutes.  He will never give up.  Even just fighting him will cost you—time, comfort, convenience, security, wealth, friends, freedom, maybe even your life.  But if you give up, the cost is even worse.  If you say, “Let him eat,” he will—he will “devour” your eternal soul, every last bite.
 
Be sober, be watchful: your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, prowls about, seeking whom he may devour…Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Wherefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and, having done all, to stand…To that end keep alert with all perseverance…1 Peter 5:8; Ephesians 6:11-13, 18.
 
Dene Ward

I have had my bird feeders now for over ten years.  What began with one wooden trough and one hummingbird feeder is now that trough plus three hanging feeders and two hummingbird feeders.  If you have been with me long, you know all the lessons we have gleaned from all those birds.  I keep a list now of every type of bird we have seen and it has grown to 37. 

If you had asked me before I would have told you no, we don't have more than a dozen varieties here in the backwoods.  Part of that mistake came because all we offered our birds was bird seed.  We put out a block of suet after a couple of years, and suddenly we had a couple more kinds.  Finally I read that offering them water would increase the number you saw.  Not every bird is a seed-eater, but they all need water.  Suddenly instead of just cardinals, titmice, chickadees, wrens, sparrows, and catbirds, we had brown thrashers, blue jays, black and white warblers, bluebirds, grosbeaks, ovenbirds, buntings, and a host more.
 
             We need to think of these things in terms of offering our congregations to our friends and neighbors.  What are we offering our communities?  A place to "worship right"?  Or a vibrant, supportive community of believers, growing and active, constantly involved with each other and the work?  Which one do you think will inevitably attract more people?  Let's be honest.  A church that "worships right" won't mean a thing to most unbelievers, but a group that shows their care and devotion to one another and the Lord, and who reaches out to them, even and especially in their need, can break down walls that can eventually, with time and teaching, become an understanding of Truth and the Mission the Lord has left us with.  "Worshiping right" will take of itself.

              Stop throwing seed at the meat-eaters.  Put out some living water and watch them come!
 
Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.” (John 4:10-15)
 
Dene Ward