We first discovered pluots three or four years ago when we set about to try one new fruit or vegetable a week.  We have discovered many yummy treats, most too expensive to enjoy regularly or in any volume, but pluots, a cross between plums and apricots, are reasonably priced in season, and delicious.
              Pluots were developed by Floyd Zaiger, who owned Zaiger's Genetics, a fruit breeding business in Modesto, California.  Over 60 years ago he began working for Fred Anderson, "the father of the nectarine," a man whose hero was Luther Burbank, who himself developed the Burbank potato and the Santa Rosa plum.  Zaiger's first work involved breeding heat tolerant rhododendrons.  Then he moved on to stone fruits, working on various traits that would make them more sustainable and tolerant of weather conditions and disease.  He has received many awards, including one from France, where his techniques and accomplishments were appreciated more quickly than in this country.  Now he has a "bushel" of awards.
              The fruit he is best known for is the pluot, a 75% Japanese plum and 25% apricot.  He trademarked the name "pluot" but the various varieties were then patented.  The earliest patent I could find was granted on December 18, 1987 for the Flavor Supreme Pluot.  The pluot may not be the only fruit Zaiger developed, but it is the one he is most proud of since it is sold internationally.
              Hybrids can be a good thing, increasing size and yield, and creating resistance to certain plant diseases.  Hybrids can also be a bad thing, dulling flavor distinctions and, of course, making it impossible to save the seeds for next year, thus increasing the cost of gardening.  Heirloom varieties are becoming popular for a reason.
              Sometimes when we sow the seed, instead of creating “heirloom Christians,” we wind up with hybrids.  The best way to avoid that is to make sure we are good old fashioned New Testament Christians ourselves, with no trace of sectarianism in us. 
             Do any of the mainstream “isms” show up in your language and thinking? 
               “Lord, we know we sin all the time.”  Sounds like total depravity to me. 
             “I know I’m not living right, but at least I’ve been baptized.”  Am I hearing once saved always saved?
              “The preacher didn’t visit me in the hospital.”  You did say “preacher” didn’t you? Or do you mean denominational “pastor?”
            Allowing denominational practices to warp our understanding of the simple gospel can lead to all sorts of problems, not the least of which is a congregation that becomes far more like its denominational neighbors than like its first century sisters.  When we expect a preacher to spend more time holding hands than holding Bible studies, when our traditions and our language show signs of various manmade doctrines instead of the simple elements found in the epistles, we need to check our bloodlines.
           I pointed out how a certain activity was performed in the New Testament once, only to have someone say in a startled tone, “That would never fly here.”  If it’s simply a matter of expedience, fine.  After all, it is 2000 years removed.  But if it’s because we’ve allowed faulty understanding from a past of bad theology to taint our thinking, it’s not.
            God doesn’t want hybrid Christians, not even pluots.  He wants a people who approach His word and His divine institution with pure hearts and minds, unadulterated from years of false teaching.  In God’s eyes, there are no good hybrids, just defiled pedigrees.
 
Moreover all the chiefs of the priests, and the people, trespassed very greatly after all the abominations of the nations; and they polluted the house of Jehovah which he had hallowed in Jerusalem, 2 Chron 36:14
That he might present the church to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish, Eph 5:27.
 
Dene Ward

Seems like every August one of the morning network shows will have a spot on what to do with all those tomatoes.  Unfortunately, those shows usually air from New York City where they seem to think that everyone thinks like they do and lives like they do, and that even the weather follows suit.  New York City must be the center of the universe. 
 
             Down here in Florida our tomatoes are 1 to 2 months gone by the time those shows air, depending upon the year.  We eat and give away those perfectly formed, unblemished firstfruits from the last week of May till halfway through June.  Then I spend a week canning tomatoes with the plum varieties, and a few days on specialty items like salsa and tomato jam.  Another week using up the end of the year uglies on sauce, and that’s that.  It’s a rare year that I have tomatoes after the Fourth of July.

              And guess what?  In the south part of this long state, things are different still.  Tomato season Is different for every location and climate.

              It’s like that for Christians too.  Not only do different spiritual ages have differing levels of understanding, but even different locations fight different battles.  A long time ago, we moved north.  Talk about culture shock.  Not only did I see my first snow, we had to fight heresies that had been fought down south ten years earlier.  You can see those things happen in the New Testament too, as trouble travels from city to city. 

              We can also discover exactly how patient—or impatient—we are with our brothers and sisters.  I forget how long it took me to reach this point and expect it of them in a few short weeks.  I become annoyed with their failures and with their lack of understanding.  Somehow I expect them to leapfrog a few decades and catch up.

              That is not how it works, and we must make allowances.  It may mean we are more careful in our decision making, and it may mean we give up our liberties.  It’s one thing to be held hostage by the views of the stubborn who claim they are “offended;” it’s quite another to trample on the fragile souls of those new in the faith, who are still grappling with the baggage they have not quite left behind. 

              And let us not deter, or even discourage completely, their salvation with some manmade list of things they should know before we accept them into our congregations.  Smacks a little of catechism class, doesn’t it?  Just how much do you think that Philippian jailor knew when Paul baptized him “in the same hour of the night?”  Enough to understand his need for a Savior and how to contact that redeeming blood.  He had a lifetime to learn the rest.
 
             Tomato season for me is not tomato season for you, and my Christian age is not the same as yours.  If you expect a green tomato to taste like one that has been vine-ripened in a home garden, you are not as wise as you think you are.
 
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.
 
Dene Ward

At the end of the garden season, I dry out my hot chili peppers and make chili powder.  I have found a good formula, one part chili pepper, two parts ground cumin, one part dried oregano, and two parts garlic powder.  The first few times I made it, I used a blend of Anaheim and cayenne peppers.  This year Keith shopped for the chili pepper plants and came home with habaneros.  If you know anything about the Scoville heat scale, you know that cayennes, while not at the mild end of the scale, are a couple hundred thousand units removed from habaneros which sit at the hottest end.
 
           To make chili powder, you must first dry the chili peppers, then remove the stems and grind them up.  A lot of the heat is in the seeds, so I, being a wimp when it comes to hot peppers, shook out the loose seeds as well—habaneros are hot enough as is.  I had enough sense to wear latex gloves while handling these babies, but that is where good sense stopped.  When I took the lid off the grinder to see if any pieces remained intact, the cloud of chili powder, totally invisible to the naked eye, rose up into my face.  How did I know?  My nose started running, my lips started burning, and I sneezed nearly a dozen times.  I had pepper-maced myself.  I am so very glad I had reading glasses on.  I do not know what might have happened to these poor eyes!  I know people who don’t even use gloves to work with hot peppers, but next time I will reach for a gas mask!

            Sin and conscience work the same way.  Especially nowadays when sophistication is judged by how little one allows sinful behavior to shock him, we have a tendency to think we can sin indiscriminately and feel just fine about ourselves afterwards.  What was it Paul said about the idolatrous pagans?  For when Gentiles who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves even though they do not have the law.  They show that the law of God is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts either accuse or even excuse themselves, Rom 2:14,15.  You can’t get away from your conscience no matter how sophisticated you think you are.

            The scriptures are littered with people who suffered pangs of conscience.  Adam and Eve hid themselves after they had sinned.  The brothers of Joseph twice confessed their sin against their brother, attributing all the bad things that happened in Egypt with the hostile “Egyptian” ruler as their just recompense.  Pharaoh, of all people, said to Moses and Aaron, This time I have sinned.  The Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong, Ex 9:27.   David sinned more than the once we often focus on.  His “heart smote him” after he numbered the people in 2 Sam 24 and his psalms of repentance after the sin against Bathsheba and Uriah abound with overwhelming guilt. 

            Herod was so wrought with guilt after killing John that he thought Jesus was John coming back from the dead.  Peter’s denial caused him to “weep bitterly,” while Judas’s betrayal led to suicide.  Even Paul, a man who surely knew he was forgiven, called himself “the chiefest of sinners” to the end of his life.

            And we think we can get away with sin and have it not affect us?  Guilt is like that burning chili pepper cloud.  You can’t see it, but your conscience will still feel its effects, and if you don’t deal with it, you will lead a miserable life--at least until you burn that conscience out as if you had “branded it with a hot iron,” 1 Tim 4:2.

            Do you know how to get rid of the pain of burning chili peppers?  Dairy products.  If you forget your gloves and those oils get under your nails or in a nick or cut, soak your hands in milk.  That is also why there is usually a dollop of sour cream on most Mexican dishes. 

            Do you know how to get rid of the pain of a burning conscience?  Soak it in the blood of Christ.  It works wonders.
 
For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling them that have been defiled sanctify unto the cleanness of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish unto God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?  Heb 9:13,14.
 
Dene Ward

August in Florida—the grapes are coming in.  Every evening after dinner, Keith and I sit in the shade of the grape arbor in the green swing Lucas made in high school shop class, munching grapes.  In Florida grapes are large, thick skinned muscadines and scuppernongs, bronze or a purple so dark it looks almost black.  We spit out the more bitter skins, and Chloe and Magdi wander around under our feet scarfing them up like little furry scavengers.  When we are too slow to suit them, Chloe wanders back to the vine and picks her own.

            Sometimes I think grapes must be God’s favorite fruit.  The symbolism in the scriptures begins in Genesis where both Judah and Joseph are described as grapevines, and travels on throughout the scriptures.  The promise of the Messiah is pictured as a time when shall sit every man under his vine…and none shall make them afraid, Micah 4:4.  Both Old Testament Israel and New Testament spiritual Israel, the church, are called vineyards (Isa 5:1-7; Mt 20:1-16).  Jesus says, I am the vine in John 15, and in the memorial feast we partake of every first day of the week, we drink the fruit of the vine, grape juice, which symbolizes his shedding of blood—not that he simply cut himself and bled one day, but that he died for our sins.

            But the symbolism is not always pleasant.  In a prophecy about Judah’s coming destruction the prophet Zephaniah says, And their wealth shall become a spoil, and their houses a desolation; yes, they shall build houses, but shall not inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, but shall not drink the wine thereof, 1:13.

            One of the most terrifying prophecies in the Old Testament also contains the symbolism of grapes and grape juice.
           Who is this that comes from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah? He who is glorious in his apparel, marching in the greatness of his strength?  
            I who speak in righteousness, mighty to save.
            Why are you red in your apparel, and your garments like him that treads in the wine vat? 
            I have trodden the winepress alone; and of the peoples there was no man with me: yes, I trod them in my anger, and trampled them in my wrath; and their lifeblood is sprinkled upon my garments, and I have stained all my raiment   For the day of vengeance was in my heart.. . And I trod down the people in my anger, and made them drunk in my wrath, and I poured out their lifeblood on the earth.   Isa 63:1-4,6.
 
           Every evening I once again have the opportunity to reflect on how I want the symbolism of the grapes to manifest itself in my life.  Do I want it to be my blood sprinkling the robe of an angry God, who tramples the wicked like grapes in a winepress, or will I accept the blood of the spotless Lamb of God, who died for me, so I can sit under my vine and not be afraid? 

            Don’t ever forget that the choice is ours to make.
 
I am the vine; you are the branches.  He who abides in me, and I in him, the same bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.  If a man does not abide in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered, and they gather them and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.  If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask whatever you will, and it will be done unto you.  Herein is the Father glorified:  that you bear much fruit; and so shall you be my disciples, John 15:5-8.  
 
Dene Ward

We made a mistake this summer.  We planted climbing roses at either end of a fifteen foot long trellis, and then planted morning glories along it as well.  To fill up the blank spot in the middle, we told ourselves.  But as the summer progressed those morning glory vines wound their way not only up the trellis but across to the new rose canes and completely covered them.  They shaded the leaves from the already filtered sun in that area of the yard and even hid the few blooms the roses managed to put out.

              Enough, we decided, and Keith clipped the smothering vines one morning.  They were wound so tightly, I had to wait for them to begin to wilt before I could remove them without damaging the rose vines.  Do you know what happened?  For five days those clipped and wilted vines put on new blooms and not just a few.

              Finally on the fifth day, I grabbed some heavy duty scissors and began cutting and carefully unwinding them.  After a half hour of cautious work and quite a few bloody thorn-pricks, nearly all the morning glories were lying in a pile along the bottom of the trellis and I discovered more rose vines than I ever imagined trailing along nearly the entire fifteen feet of trellis.  I gathered the morning glories in an armful and tossed them out in the brushy field.

              The next morning we came out to look at the roses.  New red leaves grew on nearly every end, with half a dozen new buds.  Finally we can breathe, they seemed to be screaming at us.  Then we walked over to the field and out there in the thick grass lay those dead morning glory vines—with brand new purple, blue, pink, and magenta blooms on them!  The next morning we saw more new morning glory blooms.  It had been a week since they were cut and they had lain in the sub-tropical summer sun without even any rain. Yet there they were, putting on new blooms still, even though their vines were wilted and brown. 

              By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he had witness borne to him that he was righteous, God bearing witness in respect of his gifts: and through it he being dead yet speaks, Heb 11:4.

              How many hundreds of names do we know from the pages of Scripture?  Though they are long dead, their examples still speak to us and help us along our path. 

              Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily besets us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Heb 12:1.

              That great cloud of witnesses continues to speak as we read about their lives, as we study them in Bible classes and hear them spoken of in sermons.  We give our children great Bible heroes to pattern their lives after, and well we should.  But what is true of them is true of us as well.

              After we are gone, our deeds will continue to speak, maybe not to as many as those in the pages of Scripture, but to everyone who knew us.  What will they see in the field after we are gone?  Will we leave nothing but a wilted vine, or will colorful blooms still dot the ground?  Will the deeds we do continue to inspire others, or will our useless lives stand as an example not to follow?  Will people talk about us with words of blessing or will others need to come along and undo the damage we left behind?

              Think about my morning glories today.  Someday your stem will be snipped, too.  What will be left behind for others to see?
 
Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good works, and in your teaching show integrity, dignity, and sound speech that cannot be condemned, so that an opponent may be put to shame, having nothing evil to say about us, Titus 2:7,8.
 
Dene Ward

We have always had a large garden, mainly to keep the grocery bill affordable.  An 80 by 80 foot plot has been planted in three different places through the years as we came to know our land and which areas of it were best suited for what.
 
             But the past three or four years, we have downsized.  Half the original garden, now 40 by 80, is plenty of room for the little the two of us need, and we still have extra to give away on Sunday mornings.  But since the other half was already tilled, it seemed a shame to waste it.  So that first year Keith planted an entire pound of wildflower seeds in it.  If that does not impress you, consider that those seed packets you buy in the store containing 25 seeds are less than even a tenth of an ounce.  In fact, most of the weight, should you put them on a scale small enough to weigh ounces, is the paper packet itself.  So a pound of flower seeds is an enormous amount.

              As the spring and summer passed by, nothing came up.  What a disappointment.  Planting those seeds was a lot of work—tilling, sowing, rolling with a fifty gallon barrel, hauling hoses and setting up sprinklers to water it.  Too much work, he decided, to try it again. 

              Then one spring morning during the second year, he looked out on that side of the old garden space and saw what he had expected to see the year before.  Bright yellow fleabane in huge clumps, fire engine red, deep pink, and fuchsia phlox, orange gaillardia, yellow and maroon tickseed, and tall stems of black-eyed Susans and cone flowers.  It has been a delight all year long.  We just had to wait for it longer than expected.

              I planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase. (1Cor 3:6)

              Planting for the Lord is hard work.  It may be natural to want to see results immediately.  It may be understandable to become discouraged when we do not.  Stop whittling on God's end of the stick.  Our job is to plant.  Period.  God will give the increase in His own good time.

              So keep sowing that seed.  You sow it with your words, with your offers to hold a Bible study, with the example you set when life goes awry as it sooner or later will for everyone.  You sow it on purpose and you sow accidentally when you do not realize someone else is watching and listening.  You sow it formally with written invitations and flyers and you sow when you just happen to think to invite out of the clear blue.  One of these days you might see a few results.  But then again, you may never see one.  That does not mean they won't happen in a heart years removed from the time you sowed, long after you are gone.

              And when those seeds bloom, they will be some of the most beautiful blooms on the face of the earth—a heart where the gospel has taken root and formed a servant of the Lord.  Sow something today, on purpose, and think about my wildflowers as you do.  God will give that increase.  We must learn to stop counting and see it by faith.
 
For as the rain comes down and the snow from heaven, and returns not there, but waters the earth, and makes it bring forth and bud, and gives seed to the sower and bread to the eater; so shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. (Isa 55:10-11)
 
Dene Ward

Keith had major surgery a couple of springs ago and because of his profound deafness I was with him in the hospital as caregiver 24/7.  We don’t do real sign language, but it is easier for me to communicate with him after 45 years of gradually adapting to his increasing disability.  People who are not used to it simply do not know how, and reading lips is not the easy fix to the problem that most think.
              Unfortunately, this hospital stay coincided with the garden harvest.  The beans, squash, and cucumbers had already begun coming in.  While we were away that week, those vegetables continued to grow.  When we got home, the beans were a lost cause--thick, tough, stringy and totally inedible.  The squash looked like a brass band had marched through, discarding their bright yellow tubas beneath the large green leaves, and the cucumbers as if a blimp had flown over in labor and dropped a litter.  If we expected the plants to continue to produce, I had to pull those huge gourds.  That first morning home I picked and dumped 8 buckets full.
              Gardens are taskmasters.  They don’t stop when it doesn’t suit your schedule.  They don’t wait till you have a free moment.  You must reap the harvest when it is ready or you lose it.  Every morning in late May and early June I go out to see what the day holds for me.  Will I be putting up beans or corn or tomatoes?  Will we have okra for supper or do I need to pickle it?  Are the jalapenos ready for this year’s salsa?  Are the bell peppers big enough to stuff or do I need to chop some for the freezer?  Do I need to make pesto before the basil completely seeds out? 
              And then you look for other problems.  Has blight struck the tomatoes?  Do the vining plants have a fungus?  Have the monarch butterflies laid their progeny on the parsley plants?  Have the cutworms attacked the peppers?  Has the ground developed a bacteria that is killing off half the garden almost overnight?  Do things just need watering?
              Childrearing can be the same way.  Children don’t stop growing until it suits your schedule. They don’t wait till you have a free moment.  You must reap the harvest when it is ready or you lose it.
              God expects you to carefully watch those small plants.  He expects you to check for problems before they kill the plants, and nip them in the bud.  It is perfectly normal for a toddler to be self-centered, but somewhere along the way you must teach him consideration for others.  Are you watching for ways to overcome his innate selfishness and teach him to share? Do you have a plan to teach him generosity?  It won’t happen by itself--you have to do it.
              Are you examining your children every day for those little diseases—stubbornness, a hot temper, whining, disrespect, or the other side of the “leaf”—inordinate shyness, self-deprecation, pessimism.  God expects you to look for problems from the beginning and try to fix them so your child will grow into a happy, well-adjusted adult, able to serve Him without the baggage of character flaws that should have been caught when he was very small.  Parents who ignore these things, thinking they will somehow go away when he grows up, are failing in their duties as gardeners of God’s young souls.  Those things will not disappear on their own any more than nematodes and mole crickets will.
              He also expects you to make clear-eyed judgments.  He may be your precious little cutie-pie, but you need to take off your tinted glasses and take a good look at him.  If you ignore his problems because you are too smitten to see them, you do not love your child as much as you claim.  Whoever spares the rod, hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him, Prov 13:24.  When I ignore the blight in my garden, it’s because saving the garden isn’t important to me.
              Have you and your spouse ever just sat and watched your children play?  Have you ever given any thought at all to the things you might need to correct in them?  If your schedule is too busy for that, then you are too busy.  Period.  Your children will keep right on growing, and without your attentive care they may rot on the vine. 
              You are a steward of God’s garden.  The most important thing you can do today is take care of it.
 
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table… Psalms 128:3.
 
Dene Ward

My herb garden looks the best it has in years.  The perennials—tarragon, Italian oregano, parsley, and chives—have come up beautifully and were already well beyond the new plants I put in—the Greek oregano, sage, creeping thyme, lemon thyme, and a couple of new rosemary plants to replace my old one that looks like a gnarled old man.  I had a host of shades of green, and a variety of leaf styles in the rich, black loam Keith had created for me, not to mention a heady aroma when a breeze passed through.  But I had one empty spot. 
              I already had two Genovese basils in separate pots because they catch disease and fungus easily from other plants.  I had my spearmint plant in its own pot as well, because it will simply take over if you don't keep it corralled.  I seldom use any other herbs than those I already have, so I decided to plant some lavender.  Maybe I could make some sachets, I thought, thinking ahead to gift-giving time.  So I bought one and planted it.
              Two weeks later I came outside to a wilted lavender plant.  Everything else looked fine, putting on new thick growth and even threatening to bloom.  Keith kept the bed well-watered and fertilized, but neither overwatered nor over-fertilized.  What was the problem?  We did some research and found out.  Lavender does not like to be watered and fertilized and it despises rich soil.  It does best when it is left alone in poor dirt.  Imagine that!  We removed it from the herb bed and put it in a pot of dry dirt from the field, but it was too late.  It died within the week.  And that's when I thought of these verses:

              And as they were speaking to the people, the priests and the captain of the temple and the Sadducees came upon them, greatly annoyed because they were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead. And they arrested them and put them in custody until the next day, for it was already evening. But many of those who had heard the word believed, and the number of the men came to about five thousand. (Acts 4:1-4)
 
                When Ananias heard these words, he fell down and breathed his last. And great fear came upon all who heard of it…Immediately she fell down at his feet and breathed her last. When the young men came in they found her dead, and they carried her out and buried her beside her husband…And more than ever believers were added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women, (Acts 5:5, 10, 14)

              It seems like the early church was a lot like English lavender.  Under the worst conditions of persecution and poverty, and after a strong discipline from God, they flourished.  A lot of people have expressed their ideas about why this happened, but it seems simple to me.  Who would join a group they knew could get them beaten, imprisoned, or even killed, and would certainly cause them suffering of some kind in this world except those who were truly converted and devoted to the cause?  Those are the ones who stick and who spread the Word.
              I have heard it said by some that should we once again be persecuted as our ancient brethren were, that the rolls of the church would not decrease at all—we would simply know who really was a Christian and who was a hypocrite.  When the things we complain about have more to do with personal comfort, perhaps it is time to ask ourselves whether we are English lavender Christians or the other type, the fragile, high maintenance plants who need careful tending in order to bear the Lord anything remotely useful at all.
 
And when they had called in the apostles, they beat them and charged them not to speak in the name of Jesus, and let them go. Then they left the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name. And every day, in the temple and from house to house, they did not cease teaching and preaching that the Christ is Jesus. (Acts 5:40-42)
 
Dene Ward

I went out to water my flowers early one morning, grabbed up the two gallon watering can and headed for the spigot.  The temperature had already risen to the upper 70s, and the humidity had beaten that number by at least twenty.  It dripped off the live oaks, bonking on the metal carport roof as loud as pebbles would have, but I knew that soon the plants would fold their leaves against the heat in a bid to keep as much moisture in them as possible.  A morning drink was a necessity for them to survive the coming afternoon.
 
             I picked up the filled can and began the long trudge to the flower bed.  What was that?  Water was running down the leg that bumped the can as I walked, so I lifted the can and examined it.  A steady stream of water poured out a tiny hole not quite halfway up its side.

              After a moment’s thought, I picked up the pace and made it to the bed in time to pour most of the water on the flowers.  Ordinarily after watering, I keep a full can next to the bed to fill the small bird bath next to it as needed, but that can would no longer hold even half its normal capacity.  So after the watering, I returned to the well tank and filled it only halfway and sat it by the bath.  I would have to fill it twice as often now, but at least I could get a most of a gallon out of it.  Better than nothing.

               We are a lot like that watering can.  We should be filled to the capacity that God intended, but too often we don’t hold even half of it.  Paul tells us we each receive a different gift according to the grace of God, Rom 12:6; Peter tells us to use that gift as a good steward of God’s grace, 1 Pet 4:10.  Holes in the can mean we are not using those gifts as God designed, squandering His grace in the process. 

              Sometimes we deny the grace.  “I can’t do that,” we say, when God has clearly put an opportunity in front of us.  Have you ever given someone a gift and had them tell you that you didn’t?  Of course not.  Everyone knows that the giver knows what he gave, yet here we are being so ridiculous as to tell God He most certainly did not give us any gifts.  God does not put opportunities in front of us that He has not given us the ability to handle.  More than anyone else—even more that we ourselves—He knows what we can and cannot do.  Denying the His grace is simply disobedience.

              Sometimes we cheat the grace.  “I’m too busy,” we tell people when something comes up.  Never mind that the opportunity is squarely within my wheelhouse—if I don’t want to do it, being busy is the excuse of the day.  In fact, sometimes we make ourselves busy with things we prefer in order to avoid more difficult spiritual obligations.  It’s easier to work late one night than go visit a weak brother.  It’s more fun to work out with a peer (“keeping my temple healthy”) than learn how to study with an older Christian who wants to share his hard-earned knowledge.  Shopping must be done, but it is certainly less trouble—and a lot quicker--to go shopping alone than to take an older person who is no longer able to get out on her own.  And thus our busy-ness has kept us from filling ourselves to capacity.

              Sometimes we do our best to spoil the grace by poking the hole in ourselves.  God has a purpose for each one of us.  I can sabotage those plans by my own selfish choices in life.  Worldliness and materialism can diminish my capacity for the spiritual.  Bad habits can ruin a reputation and make me less effective.  Bad decisions can make me unfit for God’s original plan for me.  Even if I turn myself around and repent, I may never again have the same impact I would have if I had made better choices earlier in life.  I may very well have drilled a hole in the can so that it will only hold half or less what God intended it to hold.

              Take a good look at your watering can this morning.  God knows better than you how much it can hold.  Don’t deny the grace; don’t squander the opportunities.  Don’t drill a hole where one doesn’t belong.  Capacity is His business, not yours, and what He wants is an overflowing can.
 
Now in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver but also of wood and clay, some for honorable use, some for dishonorable. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work, 2 Timothy 2:20-21.
 
Dene Ward

My roses are gorgeous.  Besides the Knock-out bush rose, which will truly knock you out several times a year with thirty or forty pink blooms on a three foot high bush, I have three climbers on a wire trellis.  One is that old red standby, Climbing Blaze.  One is its cousin, the red-orange Blaze of Glory, and the third is a yellow variety I have long since forgotten the name of, with the largest blooms of any climber I have ever seen.  Then for something extra, we refused to prune off the limbs that came from the rootstock and now that yellow one also carries with it limb after limb of maroon blooms along the entire length of each branch.  One morning we counted over seventy-five blooms on those three plants.

              I keep the deadheads trimmed to promote blooming, but one week I was a little late getting to that chore and found half a dozen "rose hips," the fruit of a rose that grows where the pollinated flower bloomed, a swelling that gradually turns color as it ripens, usually red or orange, but sometimes purple or even black.  Although you have to be careful with preparation, rose hips can be used for tea, jelly, syrups, seasoning, and even fruit leather.  Occasionally, I have thought about harvesting some and trying the jelly, but here's the deal:  if you let the hips form, you will have fewer blooms.  Right now, I don't need any sustenance from rose hips.  What I want are the beautiful blooms.

              Ah, but while that may be fine for rose hips, it certainly isn't fine for my life as a Christian.  God wants something useful out of me.   He doesn't care how I look on the outside, but only how I act and the state of my heart on the inside.  If all I am is a pretty blossom on the outside, but I am bearing no fruit, whether by good deeds or spiritual growth, I am fit for nothing but to be "cast into the fire and burned" (John 15:6).

              We can take it a step further to whole churches.  The building may be an architectural marvel, as many ancient churches are, but what is going on inside?  Do they produce Christians?  If the pure gospel doesn't echo down their halls, and all they evoke is appreciation of their apses, naves, stained glass, painted ceilings, and sculpted icons, just exactly how is it that God is glorified?  Even so let your light shine before men; that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. (Matt 5:16)

              Most of the time we understand that the fruit is the important thing.  Here in Florida the orange blossom is the state flower and its smell, as you drive the rolling hills of Central Florida orange groves, nearly overpowering.  In my garden, those pale yellow, maroon-centered okra blooms are truly gorgeous.  But those things and others are grown for their fruit, not their blooms.  Don't let your beautiful rose bushes lead you astray on that.
 
And even now the axe lies at the root of the trees: every tree therefore that brings not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. (Matt 3:10)

Dene Ward