We raised pigs when the boys were growing up.  A pig a year in the freezer went a long way toward making our grocery bill manageable, everything from bacon and sausage in the morning to chops and steaks on the supper table, ribs on the grill, and roasts and hams on our holiday table.  The first time the butcher sent the head home in a clear plastic bag and I opened the freezer to find it staring at me nearly undid me, though.  After that Keith made sure to tell them to “keep the head.”

            We bought our pigs from a farmer when they were no more than 30 pounds.  That created a problem that usually the boys and I were the only ones home to deal with.  Once the pigs were over 100 pounds they could no longer root their way under the pen, but those young ones did it with regularity, especially the first week or so when they had not yet learned this was their new home and they could count on being fed.  More than one morning I went out to feed them and found the pen empty, spending the remainder of my morning looking for the pig out in the woods.

            One Wednesday evening when Keith had to work, the boys and I stepped outside to load us and our books into the car for the thirty mile trip to Bible study, only to see the young pig, probably 40 pounds by that time, rooting in the flower beds.  We spent the next forty-five minutes chasing it.  You would think three smart people, two of them young and agile and me not exactly decrepit in those earlier days, could corner a pig and herd him back to the pen.  No, that pig gave chase any time any one of us got within twenty feet of him, and they are much faster than they look.

            You see things in cartoons and laugh at the pratfalls exactly as the cartoonist wanted you to, knowing in your mind that such things never could happen.  When you chase a pig you find out otherwise. 

            Once we did manage to corner the thing between a fence post and a ditch and Lucas, who was about 12, leapt for him with his arms outstretched.  Somehow that pig managed to move and Lucas landed flat on the ground on his stomach while the pig ended up trotting past all of us on his merry way, wagging his head in what looked like amusement.

            Another time Lucas actually got his arms around the pig’s stomach, but even an un-greased pig is a slippery creature.  Nathan and I never had a chance to grab on ourselves before it was loose again and off we all ran around the property for the umpteenth time, dressed for Bible study by the way, which made the sight much more ridiculous, especially my billowing skirt.

            We never did catch that pig.  He simply got tired and decided to go back into the pen.  I had opened the gate and as he trotted toward it, we all gratefully jogged behind him, winded and filthy and caring not a hoot that it was his idea instead of ours.  Still, he had to have the last word.  Instead of going through the open gate, at the last minute he ran back to where he had gotten out in the first place and slunk under the rooted out segment of the pen.  Then he turned around and looked at us.  “Heh, heh,” I could almost hear with the look he gave us.  We shut the gate, filled in the hole, loaded up the feed trough, and went inside to clean up, arriving at Bible study thirty minutes late and too exhausted and traumatized to learn much that night.

            God is a promise maker.  He has given us so many promises I could never list them all here.  We have a habit of treating those promises like a pig on the loose, like something we can’t really get a good hold of, certainly not a secure one. 

            I grew up in a time when it was considered wrong to say, “I know I am going to Heaven.”  Regardless the fact that John plainly said in his first epistle, “These things I have written that you may know you have eternal life,” (5:13), actually saying such a thing would get you a scolding about pride, and a remonstrance like, “Let him who thinks he stands, take heed lest he fall!”  We were too busy fighting false doctrine to lay hold of a hope described as “sure” in Heb 6:19.  

            That word is the same one used in Matt 27:64-66.  The priests and Pharisees implored Pilate to make Jesus’ tomb “sure” so his disciples could not steal the body and claim a resurrection.  He told the guards, “Make it as sure as you can.”  Do you think they would have been careless about it?  Do you think there was anything at all uncertain about the seal on that tomb?  Not if you understand the disciplinary habits of the Roman army.  It is not quite as obvious because of the different translation choice, but the Philippian jailor was given the same order, using the same word, when Paul and Silas were put in prison:  “Charging the jailor to keep them safely [sure],” and he was ready to kill himself when he thought they had escaped.

            That is how sure our hope is—“an anchor…steadfast and sure.”  It isn’t like a pig we have to chase down.  It isn’t going to slip through our fingers if we don’t want it to.  Paul told the Thessalonians that “sure” hope would comfort them, 2 Thes 2:16.  How comforting is it to be fretting all the time about whether or not you’re going to Heaven?  How reassuring is it to picture God as someone who sits up there waiting for you to slip so He can say, “Gotcha!”  That is how we treat Him when we talk about our hope as anything less than certain.

            I never knew what to expect when I stepped out of my door the first few weeks with a new piglet.  If we hadn’t needed it, I would not have put myself through the anxiety and the ordeal.  Why in the world would anyone think that God wants us to feel that way about our salvation?
 
…in hope of eternal life, which God, who cannot lie, promised before times eternal, Titus 1:2.
 
Dene Ward         

In the country the power can go out for no apparent reason.  You expect it in a storm.  Limbs break and fall on power lines.  Ground becomes saturated with rain and the trees uproot themselves and fall over, taking the lines underneath with them.  Lightning strikes sub-stations and transformers.  All of that is understandable.  What is not is an outage on a calm, sunny day, something that happens far more often in the country than in town.

            When you are not expecting an outage, it can cause problems.  I once put a sour cream pound cake in the oven only to have the power go out twenty minutes later.  (Yes, the sun was shining brightly.)  I needed another 40-60 minutes of 325 degree heat.  I was afraid to take the cake out, but unsure how the residual heat would affect the cooking time, nor how the reheat time would affect it when the power came back on.

            I decided to leave it in the oven, thinking that it was less likely to fall from that than from suddenly moving it from the oven heat to room temperature when it wasn’t even half-cooked.  Two hours later, the lights came on and the oven began reheating itself.  I compromised on the time and with the aid of a toothpick was able to find the moment when the cake was done but not over done.  It was a little more compact than usual, but it didn’t fall, and it tasted fine.

            When you live in the land of unexpected outages, you really appreciate the consistency of God’s power.  Eph 1:19 tells us it is immeasurable, which means it cannot be contained and is therefore infinite.  Romans 1:20 simply mentions “the eternal power” of God.  Whenever we need it, it is there for the asking and nothing can deplete it.  Every time I hear someone say, “There are so many others with bigger problems, I hate to bother God with mine,” I wonder if they really understand the “eternal” power of God.

            God’s power guards us (1 Pet 1:5); it strengthens us (Eph 6:10; Col 1:11); it preserves us (Psa 79:11); it supports us in our suffering (2 Tim 1:8); it redeems us (Neh 1:10).  Paul prayed that the Ephesian brethren would know that power, the same power that raised Christ from the dead (1:19,20) and the same power that can answer any request we might possibly think of (3:20).  And, he says, that same power works within us as well.

            When the storms of life rage around you, you will not have to worry about the power going out.  In fact, that power will be stronger the more you need it.  Paradoxically, we are never stronger than when we need God the most because we are letting Him take care of things.  Counting on yourself is the weakest you will ever be, and that usually happens on the sunny days, the days when life is easy.  On stormy days, the days when we finally give up and lay it all before God, the power at our disposal is awesome. 

            The Light never goes out, or even dims in a brownout, when run by the power of God.
 
Ascribe power to God, whose majesty is over Israel, and whose power is in the skies. Awesome is God from his sanctuary; the God of Israel--he is the one who gives power and strength to his people.  Blessed be God! Psa 68:34-35
 
Dene Ward

A long time ago, when Keith preached for a small country church, he and I used to do our visiting on bicycles.  With two toddlers aged 3 and 1, we each had a child seat over the back wheel of our bikes and off the four of us would go for an afternoon or early evening of making the rounds to our elderly or ill brothers and sisters, or to make new contacts in the rural community whenever someone moved in. 

We rode sometimes as far as five or six miles one way.  We learned the roads far better than we would have by car.  The traffic on the highways was scarce so we could easily avoid the potholes.  We learned to use the center of the dirt roads.  You simply couldn't plow your way through the thick white sand on the corners and edges.  We also learned why lime rock roads are often called washboards.  Talk about vibrations—your teeth were still chattering a half mile after you turned off.

We found another good reason to avoid the edges of the roads—snakes!  More than once one of them jerked back from the road and slithered further into the grass it had been just about to leave.  Whenever we passed a flattened rattlesnake or moccasin in the road, we gave a little cheer.

And we also learned about wind.  I was reminded of it the other day when Lucas called and told me his experience with his bike and the wind.  It goes like this.  You are having the greatest ride of your life.  You feel great.  Your legs seem to fly on the pedals.  You can up the gears with impunity and virtually zip down the road.  Then you turn around to head back home.

Suddenly you understand why the ride out was so easy.  You are headed into a wind that had formerly been at your back.  You pedal harder in lower gears.  Your calves and thighs ache.  You begin to huff and puff.  Sometimes you wonder if you are making any progress at all.  And it takes you half again longer to get back home than the ride out.

When I see someone trying to navigate the trials of life without God that's what I think of—pedaling against the wind.  I cannot imagine facing problems without God.  What's the use of it all?  You can't count on help from anyone because, like you, they are all in it for themselves.  You don't believe that anything good will come from it.  You are pedaling into a headwind so strong you will be lucky to even stay in the same place instead of being blown backwards.  Who will listen to your cries?  Who will hold you up when things get even worse?  And why did it happen to you anyway?  Nothing makes sense.  And sooner or later, even if you get through this one, another problem will rear its ugly head and there you go again.

But with God on your side things are as different--the wind is at your back.  It may still be a rough ride.  Life can deal you some bad moments.  The French have a phrase:  c'est la vie.  Such is life.  You can't get through it unscathed.  But with God behind you, you know you have help.  You have someone to lean on, to talk to, and to count on.  Because you have His Word in your heart you can make better decisions.  Because you pray you can feel calmer and more content.  Knowing that He will send help through your brothers and sisters, through Providence, through his Holy Spirit, and because you believe He will answer your prayers, you can face the impossible and come through it far better than you might have otherwise.  You know there is a reason—be it learning or growing stronger or refining your soul, you know you will be better on the other side of this affliction.

Are you riding with the wind, or against it?  If you don't have that relationship with God, if you don't know Him through his revelation to us, and if you never bother to talk with him unless you want something, maybe you are headed in the wrong direction.  Just because you sit on a pew, you aren't necessarily on the right road.  It's easy to get bogged down in the sand corners.  Just because you were once baptized into the Lord's body, you aren't necessarily a part of it now.  There is a snake out there just waiting to strike at your ankles.  You need to turn that bike around.  He wants to help you, but He can't as long as you keep riding against the Wind.
 
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (Isa 40:28-31)
 
Dene Ward

We had chickens for a while and with the hens came a rooster.  Yes, they do crow in the morning, and not just at dawn.  Sometimes they are a little off—they anticipate the dawn and crow early.

              We had visitors once who were not used to roosters, city folk that they were.  Their three year old slept with them in the only extra bed we had, and that room was right next to the chicken coop.  About 5 am when the sky might have lightened to gray if you thought about it real hard, the rooster went about his act.  We usually slept through it, having been inured for a good while, but our guests said their small child sat bolt upright in the bad and said, “What was that Mommy?”  None of them ever got back to sleep.  The rooster did his thing about every fifteen minutes like a snooze button gone haywire until the dawn actually arrived, and that child came out of that bedroom with eyes as big as saucers.  Too bad you can’t muzzle a rooster.

              But maybe we shouldn’t muzzle those roosters after all.  Just as they woke the farmers to begin their day’s work, metaphorical roosters can wake us up.  Who doesn’t recall the real rooster that woke Peter from his self-deluded state?  And straightway the second time the cock crew. And Peter called to mind the word, how that Jesus said unto him, Before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. And when he thought thereon, he wept. (Mark 14:72)  He wasn’t the only one in scriptures who suddenly “awoke” to his sins.

              How about the lost son?  And he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. But when he came to himself he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish here with hunger! (Luke 15:15-17)  I can just see him leaning over the trough as I did so many times when we had pigs of our own, and coming face to face—almost nose to filthy running nose--with a hog.  He may have been awakened by a pig instead of a rooster, but the effect was the same.

              And then there were the exiled Jews whom Ezekiel spent his life trying to convert.  God said that when the Messianic kingdom began they would “remember and be confounded;” they would “remember…and loathe themselves” for their sins (Ezek 16:63; 36:31).  That wonderful new kingdom would be so much more than they deserved that it would shake them out of their complacency.

              In Acts 2, that crowd of Jewish worshippers were awakened by the events of the day and the convicting word that Peter spoke.  “And when they heard...they were cut to the heart…” (v 37).

              And who can forget the light dawning on David when Nathan the prophet looked at him and said, “Thou art the man?”  (2 Sam 12:7, 13) 

              If you’ve never had a rooster crow in your life, you may still be asleep in your smugness and self-satisfaction.  It almost hurts when you are roused out of a deep sleep, and it should hurt even more when you are roused out of a spiritual sleep. 

              Pray for a rooster today.  And pray that you will hear it.
 
But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Eph 5:13-14)
 
Dene Ward         

 

Neighbors are different out in the country.  First of all, they are a whole lot further away.  Instead of zero lot line houses barely five feet apart, they are 5 to 50 acres apart.  You seldom even see one another to wave, except maybe at the lineup of mailboxes out on the highway.  In the country, if you want to see your neighbors, you have to make it happen.

              In the city a good neighbor often boils down to this:  he’s quiet and doesn’t cause any trouble.  There may be a particular neighbor or two you really become friends with, taking turns having one another over for dinner, going fishing together, loaning your lawn mower and babysitting once in a while, but the rest are confined to a nod when you pass one another on the street and a quick word over the backyard fence if you both happen to be out at the same time.

              In the country, because you are so far out of town and away from help, “neighbor” takes on a much larger meaning.  The very lifestyle means you have far more need of one another.  You pull one another’s vehicles out of the mud.  You tag team generators when the power goes out for more than a couple of hours.  You feed one another’s livestock when the other one has to be out of town a few days.  You swap garden tilling for tractor mowing and tomatoes for blueberries.  You help one another shell peas and shuck corn, and then work together one hot afternoon to get it all put up.  You help load sick, but heavy, pets in the pickup for a trip to the vet.  You trade shooting lessons for help wiring the shed.  You loan cars when one is in the shop, or chauffeur a sick neighbor to the doctor if you need it yourself.  If a widow is alone, you load up her woodstove and get it set, ready to light on a cold night.  If a husband is away and there is a household emergency—like the refrigerator door falling off!—you head down the lane immediately and screw it back on.  When a storm passes through and leaves a live oak half out of the ground leaning over a house, all the neighbors drop everything and run with their tractors, chains and chainsaws to help.  There is something a little more primal about being a neighbor in the country.

            We’ve had neighbors like that and we’ve tried to be neighbors like that in return.  I think it’s the sort of thing Jesus had in mind when he told the story of the Good Samaritan.  This isn’t a matter of borrowing a cup of sugar.  It isn’t about keeping the TV low in the wee hours or not parking on someone else’s property.  It’s about real life and death matters, real trials and suffering, and aiding in whatever way you can.

            Maybe the Levite and the priest were used to city neighbors.  This guy on the side of the road certainly wasn’t being a good neighbor to them, causing them all sorts of trouble and a delay in their schedules if they had stopped to help.  But the truth is, you can be a bad neighbor anywhere, country or city, and the Lord expects a whole lot more from us than that.  He expects us to do just as that Samaritan did, helping beyond the expected—just think what a couple night’s lodging would cost today—and yes, for a perfect stranger.  Was he a good guy or a good-for-nothing?  We don’t know and that’s the point.  If someone needs our help, we help, even a stranger and even when we don’t have time to check and see if we are being good stewards of our money.

            “Love thy neighbor as thyself” was recognized by Jews as the second greatest commandment.  Yet they argued long and hard over who exactly their “neighbor” was.  It most cases it boiled down to a good practicing Jew.  We’re big on castigating those Pharisaical Jews who knew the Law but explained it away.  I think we have the same problem.
 
For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Gal 5:14)
 
Dene Ward

My neighbors have done it again.  I stepped outside a few weeks ago and saw flashing red and blue lights up the hill, far more than one vehicle’s worth.  Since the original neighbor died, his heirs have moved on to the property and begun tearing apart the old trailer he used as rental property.  First they peeled the metal off the sides and sold it for scrap.  Then they tore down the rest.  Insulation and paneling littered the yard.  The trailer itself was nothing more than a pile of rubbish about four feet high.  That day they decided to burn it.

           We have a new neighbor who lives right across from them, an older woman who raises goats and lives a quiet, orderly life.  She looked outside on what was probably the windiest day of the driest month of spring to see flames just across the lime rock drive from her own house.  So she called 911.

            That was by far a smarter move than the other neighbors had made that day, for quite soon the fire got away from them and started spreading.  Imagine that!  Then, to cap off the whole ridiculous escapade--evidently some ammunition was left in the old trailer and it suddenly started going off, at least one shotgun shell and half a dozen solid bullets.  Before it was over three fire trucks, an ambulance, a forestry truck, and two deputies were crowding my narrow little road.  Somehow, no one was hurt.

            No, my neighbors were not too bright that morning, starting a fire on a windy day in the middle of a drought and failing to make sure that all they were burning was wood and insulation.  What could we expect though?  These were the offspring of a man who, on another windy day in the middle of a drought 15 years ago, gave his children some matches to play with so they would stay out of his hair.  That time we were the ones almost burned out. We did lose a portion of fence when the firemen broke through it with a bulldozer while building a firebreak, but nothing else thanks to their hard work.

            You know what?  We often play with fire exactly the same way, with even worse consequences.  The Proverb writer says, Do not enter the path of the wicked, and do not walk in the way of the evil. Avoid it; do not go on it; turn away from it and pass on, 4:14,15.  We go where we have no business being, where temptation sits waiting to strike, and then wonder how we got into trouble. 

            We turn away from good advice and listen to the bad, avoid the righteous and hang around with the wicked, because we are certain we are strong and can handle the traps.   The teaching of the wise is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death. Good sense wins favor, but the way of the treacherous is their ruin.  In everything the prudent acts with knowledge, but a fool flaunts his folly, Prov 13:14-16.  I have always thought it amusing how little God cares for political correctness and tact.  He calls us fools when we act like one.

            God even told the Israelites not to covet the idols their neighbors had.  Why?  The carved images of their gods you shall burn with fire. You shall not covet the silver or the gold that is on them or take it for yourselves, lest you be ensnared by it, Deut 7:25.  God has always pictured wealth as a snare to his people.  Yet what do we always wish for?  What do we think will fix all our problems? But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction, 1 Tim 6:9.  Let’s not get on our high horses because we understand that a Christian shouldn’t play around with liquor, with drugs, with gambling, or with illicit sex.  For one thing, we are just as vulnerable as anyone in those areas.  For another, we are just as bad when we think money is the be-all and end-all.  We are playing with dynamite that could explode in our faces just as easily.

            Are you playing with fire in your life?  Are you too sure of yourself, so confident in your ability to overcome that you place yourself in harm’s way and practically dare the Devil to come get you?   Remember God’s opinion of such a person.  I don’t want him to call me a fool on the day it matters the most.
 
Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched? The fear of the LORD is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death, Prov 6:27,28; 14:27.
 
Dene Ward

“Do it myself!”  What parent has not heard these words from his toddler with mixed feelings?  Yes, he is learning to do things for himself, all by himself, without my help.  Good for him!  Yes, he is learning to do without me.  Some day he won’t need my help at all.  Some day he will experience his own Independence Day, and we will face it with pride in his accomplishment and tears for our own loss at the same time.

            And don’t we prize that independent feeling ourselves?  I have a good friend who is 93.  She and I have often bemoaned the fact that people no longer seem to understand the word “need.”  What they think they “need” is usually just something they “want.”  It worries us that we are becoming more and more dependent on wealth and the technology it buys.  We have said to one another, if someday there is a great catastrophe, most of the country won’t know how to survive at all.  She has a colorful way of putting it:  “They won’t even know how to go to the bathroom!”

            We have lived in the country for a long time, and I have learned a lot about doing things myself.  I don’t know when was the last time I bought a jar of jelly at the store.  Or pickles.  Or canned tomatoes.  Or salsa.  Or any sort of frozen vegetable at all.  I do it myself.

            For awhile we had chickens.  Until we finally figured out that we were barely breaking even between the cost of feed and the “free” eggs, we gathered jumbos every day, half a dozen or more.  Keith milked a cow, and I often had a sour cream pound cake sitting on the countertop, made with our eggs, our homemade butter, and our homemade sour cream.  I mashed potatoes we grew with our fresh cream and homemade butter.  The ice cream we churned was so rich we often saw flecks of butter in it.   I think maybe we gave up the cow the day we actually started feeling our arteries clog as we looked across the table at one another.

            A lot of people can and freeze vegetables, jams, and pickles, but it always gave me a little extra pride when I made things that most people never even thought about making, like ketchup from the tag ends of the tomato crop, and chili powder from the cayenne peppers I grew and dried.  Lots of folks make applesauce, but not many can their own apple pie filling to use later in the year.  Another friend I have makes her own laundry starch.  If anything dire does happen in the next few years, my two special friends and I promise to share.  I am sure the 93 year old will be happy to tell you how to dig an outhouse.

            But that sort of pride and independence can get in the way of our salvation, can’t it?  There really is nothing we can do to save ourselves.  And we must learn to depend upon God—he demands it.  He is to be the one we trust, the one we rely on, the one we go to for every need we have, even if our definition of need is really “want.” 

            As long as I think I can manufacture my own salvation and experience a spiritual Independence Day, I will never find myself in God’s good graces, or in His grace.  This is one case where self-reliance is disastrous.  This is one case where we celebrate Dependence Day instead.  Have you celebrated yours yet?
 
By grace have you been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, Eph 2:8

Dene Ward

A few mornings back Keith and I took our last cup of coffee to the carport and sat in our nylon lounge chairs, the kind with the attached pillow you can flip over the back if you do not care to use it. We did use them, both of us, and leaned back, watching the mockingbird flit back and forth to its nest in the bloom-laden rose trellis and the hummingbirds guard their two feeders like Fort Knox. A couple of squirrels ran along the “highway,” a route they use every day from one live oak top to another, down the limbs and across the fence.  Off in the distance a hawk screamed, a rooster crowed, and a wild turkey gobbled.  Occasionally we flipped a treat out for Chloe to chase.  It was still the middle of spring, cool and bugless, humidity low for a Florida morning, low enough that the scent of jasmine reached us from the vine a good 75 feet down the drive. 

After twenty minutes or so, we got up to start our morning. As soon as Keith stood, a snake slithered out from under his pillow, down the back of the chair and dropped onto the carport. Our chairs are only six inches apart. If that thing had stuck its head out between us from under the pillow, judging by the roar when he saw it, Keith might have had a heart attack, and I might still be running.  Talk about “Flight Paths”—I would have made a good one.

Guess what we do every morning now?  That’s right. We flip those pillows back and look under them before we sit down.  People say habits are hard to break.  We didn’t have a bit of trouble breaking ourselves of sitting down before we looked.  Depends upon the motivation, I guess.  Maybe that’s why we have such a hard time breaking ourselves of sinful habits—we enjoy them too much, or we just don’t think they are that important.

From another perspective, we didn’t have a bit of trouble creating a new habit either.  Same reason—motivation.  I really do not want to think about a snake lying under the pillow I am leaning my head against, or the possibility of it slithering down my back, do you?

So why can’t we make new habits to rid ourselves of that besetting sin in our lives?  Can’t I learn to pray for self-control before I leave the house when I know I have trouble behind the wheel?  Can’t I learn to recite a few passages about longsuffering and kindness just before I walk into a meeting with that particularly obnoxious colleague?  Can’t I learn to avoid situations that I know will tempt me instead of purposefully putting my soul in harm’s way?  Of course I can, if I care enough, if I believe God would want me to do so, if I think of Him instead of me and my stubborn will. 

AND, if I believe that Satan is real, that he is out there trying to find a way to make me fall.  He is, you know.  He is right under that pillow, waiting for you to sit down without a care in the world and lean your vulnerable neck back into reach of his fangs.

Change a habit today.  LOOK! before you sit down.
 
But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. Rom 13:14
 
Dene Ward

When we first moved onto this land, no one else lived on the parcels anywhere around us.  Everyone else bought for the investment and planned to sell later, and with the titles unclear (except for ours) the plots remained empty for a long time.  With no fences in place, the boys literally had their own version of the Hundred Acre Woods to play in. 

            When the first hard rains showed us how the land around here drained, and that we would soon be washed away if something weren’t done, the owners to the north of us plowed a ditch along that side to help us out.  It was required by law, but they were compliant and even stopped to make sure we were satisfied before their rented equipment went back to the store.  Yes, we were.  The ditch worked fine and we stayed dry.

            We assumed the ditch ran right along the northern edge of the property and used all the land up to it for our garden, for our yard, for flower beds, even for a post to hold guywires for our antenna.  When the land around us began to sell and people moved in, we finally had to put up a fence.  Imagine our surprise when we discovered that we had been using as much as five feet more land along the north boundary than was actually ours.  But of course, the surveyors were correct.  They had sighted along the boundary markers, white posts set on all four corners of our five plus acres.  I even had to dig up half of a lily bed one morning and transplant them elsewhere so they could put the fence along the correct line.

            The Israelites were aware of boundaries and the landmarks that outlined them.  “You shall not move your neighbor's landmark, which the men of old have set, in the inheritance that you will hold in the land that the LORD your God is giving you to possess. Deut 19:14.  It was a matter of honesty and integrity.  “‘Cursed be anyone who moves his neighbor's landmark.’ And all the people shall say, ‘Amen.’ Deut 27:17.  And this is just talking about land.  Imagine if someone moved a landmark that showed something even more important than that.

            The princes of Judah have become like those who move the landmark… Hos 5:10.  The wicked kings of God’s people had blurred the lines between right and wrong, between good and evil.  The standard became which will make me wealthier or more important among my peers, rather than which is right in the eyes of God?  Which is more convenient, which is easier, which do I like the best, which appeals to my lusts?  All of these have been used to move the boundaries of right and wrong in people’s lives for thousands of years.  When the government does it too, we have an instant excuse.  After all, it’s not against the law, is it?

            Do you think it hasn’t happened to us?  What do you accept now that you would never have accepted thirty years ago because you knew that the Bible said it was wrong?  Now people come along and tell you the Bible is a book of myths or the Bible only means what you want it to mean.  They have moved the landmark, and many have accepted it.

            God does not move landmarks.  What He says goes—then and now.  He may have changed the rituals we perform in each dispensation, but basic morality—right and wrong--has not and will not change.  Even Jesus used the argument, “But from the beginning it was not so…” (Matt 19:8). 
We can move the landmarks all we want, but we will still wind up on the Devil’s property, and God will know the difference, whether we accept it or not.
 
​Do not move an ancient landmark or enter the fields of the fatherless, for their Redeemer is strong; he will plead their cause against you. Prov 23:10-11
 
Dene Ward

And now we head east along the final, the north side of the property.  We used to drive in that way, straight down the drive and across the top of the property to the front door. That was before we had a summer so wet we kept getting stuck halfway up our hubcaps.  Somewhere along that north side is a spring that only appears during wet season and a neighbor had to pull us out of it with his tractor several times before we finally cleared a higher road we could count on that comes to the back door instead of the front.  I keep telling people I would never put my washer and dryer in my foyer, but few seem to get it.

            That wet weather helped us discover another problem.  The property directly north of us drained all over us.  We are on a slight grade, one you hardly notice until a summer downpour comes washing down from the neighboring land.  I will never forget the day I stood at the front door and watched a six inch deep torrent rush under the house, then raced to the opposite windows to see it come churning out.  I knew we were in big trouble.  The summer rains had barely begun and we were also in the middle of hurricane season.  In short order we would be washed away.

            We have a law, at least here in Florida, which says you are responsible for what your property does to neighboring property.  One of the neighbors found out the hard way when they did something on their property that left a neighbor in an undrainable, and undrivable, swamp.  The ones who caused the situation refused to fix it.  “It’s not our problem,” they said. The neighbors who could no longer access their home had to call the sheriff, who sent out deputies to make sure they had the mess they made repaired so their neighbors could once again get in and out of their land.

            The owners of the land just north of us, people who had bought it as an investment and did not live there, knew about that law, too.  All we had to do was make a phone call, and they sent out the equipment to dig a ditch along that north side that led straight to the run on the east where we started this walk, so their land could drain around us instead of through us.  Yes, it was a law, but at least we didn’t have to call the sheriff to get them to act.  In fact, they were quite nice about it and did not leave until they were certain we were satisfied.

            God has a law too.  It goes like this:  ​“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea. Mark 9:42.  Paul spent a couple of chapters in both Romans (14) and 1 Corinthians (8) telling us the same thing.  Everything we do has an influence on people who see or hear us, whether we know they see or hear us or not. 

            I’ve heard people say things like, “I can do whatever I want to do.  That’s his/her problem.”  No, it isn’t.  It’s your problem when you want to claim to be a disciple of Jesus but do not follow his example.  We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, “The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me.” Rom 15:1-3.

            We influence people for good or ill by what we wear, how we speak, how we react to others, especially the unkindness of others, and any number of other things. God expects us to be aware of how our speech and behavior effects the world, and not only that, to care.

            Wouldn’t it be a shame if they had to call “the Sheriff” on us?
 
So then each of us will give an account of himself to God. Therefore let us not pass judgment on one another any longer, but rather decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother. Rom 14:12-13.
 
Dene Ward