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

It happened again the last time I went in.  I got another new resident assigned to do the preliminary work-up.  Since it was a cornea appointment instead of a glaucoma appointment he had not even planned to check the pressures.  I mentioned that my vision was foggy and my eye felt a little different.  Could that be caused by higher pressures?
 
           “Oh no,” he confidently asserted. “Your pressure would have to be over 50 for that to happen, and you would be throwing up by now.” 

            I looked at him and said, “I’ve been at 70 before without symptoms.”  I am not sure he believed me until he went to the next hall over and pulled my other file, the four inch thick one with more notes than he had probably seen on any six patients put together.  He read for several minutes and discovered that the obvious course of action for most patients is the worst course for me, and quietly took my pressures.  They were indeed high.  If nothing else, that day he learned that not all patients follow the rules.

            We can be a little like that inexperienced young doctor when it comes to following God’s law.  We so badly want it all spelled out in black and white for every situation life hands us--it’s so much easier than having to think and examine our hearts.  That’s why we who have led sheltered lives, perhaps growing up in the church as second, third, or even fourth generation Christians who have never had a drink, never let a bad word slip, and never even considered breaking one of the “big” commandments, can be so judgmental about others who still struggle every day.  A young Christian who came from a rough background recently said to me, “People in the church look down on me when I talk about battling sin.  They say if my faith is genuine, it shouldn’t be that way.”  We carry our rule books, measuring everyone around us, instead of using the sense God gave us, and the love and encouragement he expects of us.

            Rule Book people have another problem as well. Despite their protestations of having a true faith because it does so many works, many never truly believe in the grace of God.  Some of these poor misguided people worry themselves silly wondering whether they are truly saved.  They second-guess every decision they make; they are never confident that they are doing well.  Someone has forgotten to read John’s first epistle to them, which he wrote “so you may know you have eternal life,” 1 John 5:13.

            Finally, those folks work so hard to get every little detail right that they often miss the point of the commandment they are trying to follow.  The Pharisees are the ultimate example.  Even though they began with the simple and righteous desire to follow God’s law exactly, they eventually reached the point that they totally missed the focus of the Law.  It became a study of minutiae instead of concept.  I once read a bit of one their documents discussing the passage, “I meditate on thee in the night watches,” (Psa 63:6).  The point of the passage is to be thinking on spiritual things all through the day and night, but the next four pages were devoted to various rabbis’ arguments about how many night watches there were so they could be sure to meditate exactly that many times! That is what happens when you focus only on the rules and never the heart.  Surely none of us wants to be in a group Jesus called “a brood of vipers.”

            Do not misunderstand me.  I believe God has a set of laws He expects us to follow to the letter, but life is not always simple.  Sometimes a situation arises that is not cut and dried.  We have to actually think about what the right course of action is and make the best possible decision.  Sometimes what I feel is right for me may not be what you feel is right for you.  It is not situation ethics.  It is simply a place where God has not spelled things out, but has left us as His children to pray and meditate, and make a decision from a heart of love and good intentions, and then to trust His grace if we have made a mistake.  To do otherwise, or to simply do nothing, would be the sin, and to judge otherwise, would be the self-righteousness Jesus despised.
 
And he spoke also this parable unto certain who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and set all others at naught: Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican.  The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank you, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I get. But the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me a sinner. I say unto you, This man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one who exalts himself shall be humbled; but he who humbles himself shall be exalted, Luke 18:9-14.
 
Dene Ward
 

We live on a hillside.  You don’t really notice it when you first drive onto the property.  The hill is shallow as hills go, dropping about twenty feet in five hundred.  In another climate one would seldom think anything of it.  But in Florida, in the summer, torrential downpours are common.  Not too long ago we had two and a half inches come down in less than thirty minutes.  Two or three days before we had six inches, but it took all day to accumulate that.  When nearly half that much pours out of the sky in such a short time, you feel like ten have fallen instead.

           It was as if a giant bucket were being upended over us.  We could hardly see the blueberries only hundred feet away.  The roar on the metal roof was deafening.  The rushing water overwhelmed the culvert in the drive and washed over the road and out to the garden where it ran against the berm in a narrow creek.  We had built that berm precisely because of rains like this one—we were tired of wading “downstream” to rescue washed away garden plants. 

            Eventually we left the porch which was not much shelter in a rain like that—the merest breeze left us damp and shivering, even in the summer.  So we stepped back inside and looked out the windows to the north.  Now you could really tell—we are definitely on a hill.  Water ran like a river across the entire width of the yard, from the front steps to the fence, ten to twelve inches deep.  We watched leaves, twigs, and moss float “downstream” to the run on the east side of the property.  After the rain stopped, it kept running, draining the whole hillside, for another hour.

            A week after that rain, I walked the path the water had taken.  Leaves were washed into piles a foot deep along the runnel.  Limbs hung up on some of the bushes but others, dragged by the running water, lay piled up against the fence which had acted as a sieve as the water ran through it.  Channels several inches deep marked the dried mud, and the grass was still bent over in the direction the water had flowed.  Running water is powerful.

            The flood continued forty days on the earth. The waters increased and bore up the ark, and it rose high above the earth. The waters prevailed and increased greatly on the earth, and the ark floated on the face of the waters. And the waters prevailed so mightily on the earth that all the high mountains under the whole heaven were covered. The waters prevailed above the mountains, covering them fifteen cubits deep, Gen 7:17-20.

            The waters of the great Flood “prevailed.”  Those waters not only covered the earth, they drowned every living creature on it that was not in the ark or swimming in the newly created worldwide ocean.  Have you ever seen a flash flood?  Have you ever heard the stories of one?  No one can win against those “prevailing” waters.  If you try to hang on to something, you simply wear out and are washed downstream. 

            The same word is used in Ex 17:11: So Joshua did as Moses told him, and fought with Amalek, while Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed.  We are talking about winning a war with that word; that’s the strength implied in its use.  It should be no surprise that “prevailed” is also translated “strong” and “mighty.”

            So why is that important?  Because the same Hebrew word is used in Psalm 117:2.  For great [that same Hebrew word] is His steadfast love toward us.  God’s love for us is strong; it is mighty.  It is like rushing water that carries along everything in its path.  It is like an army winning a war.  Sometimes we seem to doubt that.  “But I’ve been so bad,” we say, “how can God love me?”  He can love you because His love is great. It can prevail against the worst of sins.

            The next time you doubt it, think about flood waters, think about an army that can win a war.  God’s love is just like those things.  It prevails over all.
 
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, Rom 8:38,39.
 
Dene Ward

Have you heard the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin?  Well, it seems there may be a kernel of truth to it, but first let's go through it quickly.  One June day in 1284, according to the brothers Grimm, a colorfully dressed man arrived in Hamelin, claiming he could rid the town of its infestation of rats.  The town burghers agreed to pay him a sum for doing so.  He began playing a silver flute and lured all the rats to the Weser River into which they plunged and drowned.  The burghers then reneged on the deal.   The piper returned to the town on June 26 and began playing his flute again, this time luring away all the children over the age of 4. 

            Just a fairy tale, you say?  Maybe, or maybe not, especially since an actual date has now been attached to the event.  Manuscripts, paintings, even stained glass windows have been discovered depicting and describing the event as real.  What caused the children to leave?  You will find as many explanations as scholars studying it, and I will leave that to you.  But the part about the rats?  That was not added to the story for 300 years, so it is probably just legend.  Still, rodents are the issue today. 

            We have never had much trouble before now.  Barn cats do an excellent job.  Even after the second in a row went hunting one evening never to return, we had no trouble because a garter snake moved into the enclosed crawl space under the house.
 
             For four or five years that snake minded his own business, which was good for us—we seldom had a mouse in the house, in spite of living deep in the piney woods.  Sometimes we’d see him stretched out in the sunny yard, nearly four feet long thanks to his dark pantry beneath our floors, but we would turn and go the other way to keep the dogs off of him until he had returned home.

             One summer day, he ventured out while Keith was mowing.  He assumed the snake would turn and slither back into the flower beds as he approached.  Just as he passed by, the frightened reptile turned and darted toward the mower.  Keith groaned aloud as he rode right over him, scattering garter snake to the winds.

              The trouble started in the winter, of course.  I began hearing them gnaw on the bottom of the house.  So Keith crawled into that dark, dusty cavern with packets of poison, a flashlight, and a pistol, in case a less benevolent snake had moved in.  In a couple of days the noises stopped, only to start again three or four days later.  The packets of poison were empty.  More crawling, more packets, and once again quiet reigned in the night.  In about two weeks, we seemed to have the problem licked.

              Two months later, when Keith rose at 4:30 am to get ready for work, he found a mouse sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor.  We set out traps this time, as well as poison.  Sometimes I hear one in the middle of the night crunching the poison pellets.  Then we’ll have two or three nights of quiet before the next one arrives.  You see, where we live there is an endless supply of rodents.  Rats and mice will never make the endangered species list.

              Not all endless supplies are bad though.  The grace of God is a good case in point.  Christ told Paul, “My grace is sufficient” (2 Cor 12:9) to help you handle your problems.  It isn’t that you need to get rid of the problem, he told him; it’s that you need to trust that there is enough grace to help you through it.

              Paul told Timothy that God’s grace was “exceeding abundant,” 1 Tim 1:4.  The root word means “to abound,” a word that brings to my mind that Southern phrase “a gracious plenty.”  Yet in this passage Paul attaches an intensifier, huper (from which we get “hyper”). So it means “to abound exceedingly.”  Not just a lot, but a whole lot of a lot.  You simply can’t need more grace than God has to give, no matter how big a sinner you may think you are, nor how often you sin; no matter how big your problems are.  That means he’ll have enough for your neighbor too—you won’t lose out if you share.  Yes, in this case, an endless supply is a very good thing.
 
But not as the trespass, so also the free gift. For if by the trespass of the one the many died, much more did the grace of God, and the gift by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abound unto the many.  And the law came in besides, that the trespass might abound; but where sin abounded, grace did abound more exceedingly: that, as sin reigned in death, even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Rom 5:15,20,21.
 
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

Rahab was a harlot, what we would call a prostitute.  I have come across many commentators who have tried their best to turn her into an “innkeeper,” but the word just won’t allow it.

            The Hebrew word in Josh 2:1 is zanah.  It is also translated commit fornication, go awhoring, play the harlot, play the whore, whorish, whore, etc.  It is used in Lev 19:29; Hos 4:13; Ex 34:16; Isa 23:17 and many other places where the meaning is quite clear.  In the New Testament, the word is porne, in James 2:25 for example, and I do not imagine I need to tell you the English word we get from that Greek one.  This same word is translated whore in Rev 17:1,15,16; 19:2.  Rahab was a harlot, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

            So what is the problem with commentators who insist on “innkeeper?”  The same one the Pharisees had.  If Jesus was the Messiah, how could he possibly associate with publicans and sinners?  If Rahab was a harlot, how could she possibly be in the genealogy of Christ?  Yet they talk about the grace and mercy of God like they understand it better than we do.

            And sometimes we are no better.  Whom do we open our arms to when they walk through our doors?  Whom do we actively seek and label “good prospects for the gospel?”  Yet the people we choose to shun are the people who understand grace because they understand their need for it.  We are a bit like the rich, young ruler, who, though he knew something was missing in his life despite all the laws he kept faithfully, still thought his salvation depended upon something he could do.

            Rahab showed her dependence on God with a scarlet line she hung from her window.  Did you know that word is only translated “line” twice in the Old Testament, counting this occurrence in Josh 2:21?  The other translations are expectation (seven times such as Psa 62:5), hope (23 times, such as Jer 17:13; Psa 71:5), and the thing that I long for (once, Job 6:8).  I do believe it was a literal rope of some sort, but it seems more than passing coincident that the word most of the time has those other meanings.  I have often wondered what her neighbors thought of that cord hanging there, but every day Rahab was reminded of the salvation she did not deserve, that she hoped for, longed for, and expected to receive when those people marched into the land. 

            When we get a little too big for our britches, a little too proud of our pedigree in the kingdom, maybe we need to hang a scarlet cord in our windows to remind us what we used to be, and what we have waiting for us in spite of that.
 
But when the kindness of God our Savior, and his love toward man, appeared, not by works done in righteousness, which we did ourselves, but according to his mercy he saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit, which he poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, that being justified by his grace we might be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.  Titus 3:4-7
 
Dene Ward

I came across the phrase “for thy name’s sake” in Psalm 79:  Help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of your name; deliver us and forgive our sins for thy name’s sake. 

              The whole psalm bases its appeal on the fact that God is the one being scorned when His people are defeated by the nations.  The psalmist certainly had it right—those people who had slipped so far into idolatry and all its vile and attendant practices could not possibly think that God would save them based upon how faithful and righteous they had been.  The only possibility of salvation was to throw themselves on the mercies of their God, to remind Him that it was a personal affront to Him when His people were conquered. 

              The nations have come into your inheritance…your holy temple they have defiled…the dead bodies of your servants have they given to the birds of the heavens for food…render sevenfold into the laps of our neighbors the taunts wherewith they have taunted you.  And in keeping with that, the psalmist then asks for forgiveness, not for the people’s sake, but for God’s name’s sake.

              I looked up that phrase and found it several more times in the collection.  What was God asked to do “for His name’s sake?”  Pardon sins, 25:11; lead in paths of righteousness, 23:3; preserve life, 143:11; lead and guide, 31:3; deal on my behalf and deliver, 109:21.  Herein lies a lesson we need—all these things, including pardon and deliverance, God does, not because we deserve them, but because of Who He is.  We have nothing to bargain with any more than those fickle people of old.  We, too, have sinned against a loving Father, often in a rebellious and disrespectful way.  We may not bow down to an idol, but we love the world as much as they did, follow its example as if we fear to be different from it, and let it seep into our minds to the point we no longer even recognize sin.

              I hear too many brethren in the midst of a trial ask God, “Why, when I have tried so hard to be faithful for so long?”  We just don’t get it.  One sin forever makes us unworthy to be in the presence of God.  It breaks our covenant with Him as surely as a broken contract today.   God is Holy, He is righteous, He cannot tolerate sin.  But lucky for us, God is love, too, and because of Who He is, we have hope.

              When the trials come, when the fear mounts and the sorrow overwhelms, this is what we say to Him:  We know we do not deserve it.  We know you are far above us and our frail existence.  Please show the world your essence.  Please help us and comfort us and deliver us, not for our sakes, but for your name’s sake.  Otherwise we don’t have a leg to stand on, and we know it.
 
"I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins. Isaiah 43:25

"For my name's sake I defer my anger, for the sake of my praise I restrain it for you, that I may not cut you off. Isaiah 48:9

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved-- and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. Ephesians 2:4-7.
 
Dene Ward

In the winter sparrows invade my yard, swarming the feeders like ants.  It is nothing unusual for 15 or so to cover the trough by the window, while half a dozen more sit in the azaleas waiting for an opening.  Meanwhile, thirty to forty hop along the ground, flitting back and forth to the smaller hanging feeders, which sway from the impetus of their continual take-offs.  After several frosts the brown and black grass successfully camouflages their drab brown and gray feathers.  I can only tell they are there because frosted off grass doesn’t ordinarily move, but that grass literally writhes.
 
             Brown and gray—drab colors compared to the brilliant red cardinals, the bright yellow goldfinches, the contrasting red and yellow bars on the blackbird’s wing.  Even the brown of the Carolina wren is comparatively bright, and the stark contrasts of the zebra-striped black and white warbler perched pecking at the suet cage draws your eye far sooner than the mousy little sparrow.

              But someday you should sit at my window when one of them lands on the trough not six inches from your nose.  Up close the intricate patterns on their wings suddenly turn those drab colors into a source of wonder and delight.  Like delicate lace, the brown and gray sections, outlined by white and spotted with black, will keep your attention for a half hour or more as you struggle to discern the pattern God has placed in their tiny feathers.  No artist could have created anything so exquisite, especially using those colors.

              And what about you?  God can take your drab colors and create a creature far beyond your imagination.  He can take a miserable life and give it purpose, a sorrowful spirit and make it joyous, a selfish heart and tenderize it with compassion.  He can take a soul overwhelmed by the darkness of sin and make it bright with the reflection of its Savior.

              There is nothing drab about the life of a Christian.  God can make even the most ordinary person extraordinary.  We have no need for garish colors, for manmade ornament, or the laurels of worldly praise.  We know who we are—new creatures, “created in Christ Jesus for good works,” each of us beautiful in His glory.  If all you see are drab colors, you just haven’t gotten close enough.
 
…Put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and…be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and…put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness, Eph 4:22-24.
 
Dene Ward
 

I barely remember it.  It wasn't all that exciting so a toddler would hardly have sat down and watched it.  The humor was sometimes wry and certainly not slapstick or as in-your-face as today's.  Three couples competed in a series of questions.  They were always interesting couples, I am told, with different areas of expertise.  The emcee told them the category and the husband decided—before hearing the question itself—whether he would answer or his wife.  Thus the name of the show, "Who Do You Trust?"
              The original show debuted on January 3, 1956 with Edgar Bergen as host.  It lasted barely a year.  Then on September 30, 1957 the producers brought it back with Johnny Carson as host.  Johnny's career was lagging seriously at the time, but the show and the way he handled it, spending more time on the interviews than the actual questions and keeping the live audience entertained, kept it on the air for another 6 years, until Jack Paar retired and the Tonight Show came calling.  The rest, as they say, is history.
               Salvation is certainly not a game show.  The prizes at stake are far more than the $25, $50, and $75 for three questions.  But the question of "Who do you trust?" is still relevant.
              I grew up in a time when we were regularly told from pulpits all over the country that we should never say that we knew we were saved, we certainly shouldn't talk about Heaven as something we had a real expectation of.  "You can lose it any time," was the doctrine we were taught, and while that is certainly true, we were taught it so constantly and vigorously that we spent our lives looking over our shoulders wondering when death would strike, hoping we would have enough warning to throw up a quick prayer for forgiveness.  Otherwise, we were sure, all was lost—especially us.
              And what has this done?  It has created a generation without hope, one that lives in constant fear, one that doesn't trust God to save them.  We have done a fine job of aiding Satan in discouraging the saved to the point that they are indeed no longer saved.  They were told it was impossible and they believed it, and so they quit trying.  Or if, somehow, they are still out their knocking themselves out trying, uttering prayers for forgiveness every hour or so, their lives are not full of joy, they are full of insecurity and foreboding, afraid they might come across as arrogant enough to actually believe they have a chance.
              Would a God of love want us to live that way?  What do you think he feels when we talk about him like he is up there watching, just waiting to say, "Aha!  Gotcha!" and then zap us when we aren't looking?  I would be insulted if my children thought I would do that to them!  Why do we think it is "reverent" to think that of God?
              We have completely forgotten grace.  Grace is not only about your initial salvation.  Grace is there all your life.  God never expected any of us to know all the facts, understand all the doctrines, and have all our character flaws worked out the moment we were baptized.  We keep working on those things, sometimes struggling harder at one thing than another, looking at ourselves honestly and learning as much as we can about God and His Word, repenting when we find it necessary, and grace covers what we haven't yet reached.  God said he would do that.  He said he loves us and wants us to go to Heaven.  He gave up his Son so that could happen?  Don't you trust God?
              …for they cried out to God in the battle, and he granted their urgent plea because they trusted in him. (1Chr 5:20)  Won't God answer your plea to cover your errors if you trust him?  If you don't believe that, then you don't trust him.
              When we don't trust God's grace, just what is it we really trust?  Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. (Ps 20:7)  The chariots we trust in are works.  We keep thinking we have to be perfect and we must get that way now!  Nonsense.  Look how Jesus carefully brought Peter along.  Look how God dealt with Gideon as he gradually built his courage and faith.  He does that for all of us.
              But I trust in you, O LORD; I say, “You are my God.” (Ps 31:14)  Trusting God is a requirement for being his child.  No trust means no relationship with the Father.
              And here is the bottom line:  Therefore, when the LORD heard, he was full of wrath; a fire was kindled against Jacob; his anger rose against Israel, because they did not believe in God and did not trust his saving power. (Ps 78:21-22)
              When we don't trust in God's grace, we are trusting a doctrine of the Devil, a doctrine he puts out there through his own ministers to destroy our faith, our spirit, and our relationship with God.  Don't let anyone steal your trust in God and his power to save even the vilest sinner—even you.
              "Who Do You Trust" is not a game show—it is your life.
 
 I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life. (1John 5:13)

You would think after all these years that I would know better.  You should never take a brand new recipe to a potluck or try it out on guests.  There is a reason cooks talk about "tried and true" recipes.  But I saw this gorgeous "Chocolate Glazed Peanut Butter Filled Torte" in a magazine, one that is usually trustworthy, and wanted to make it.  Keith and I do not need rich desserts around the house for just us two, so taking one somewhere else means we seldom have more than a piece or two to splurge on when we bring the remains back home—which may sadden my heart, but not my waistline.  It looked good, the ingredients sounded good, and I had them all which was an added bonus.  So here we go…
 
             This was one of those uber-rich cakes with scarcely enough flour to hold it together.  When I read that I was to cut this two inch thick layer in half, fill it, and then put the top back, I should have known there would be trouble with so little flour.  And there was.  First, it sank about halfway in the middle.  That meant when I took my long serrated knife and tried to cut it in "half" there was nothing in the middle to cut.  What I cut off looked like a tire.  Calm down, I told myself as my pulse and respiration increased, the filling will show through there and it will look like it's supposed to be that way. 

              But then I tried to remove that top.  It came away in sections.  You would have thought a Lamaze class was going on I was panting so hard by then, but I carefully put the pieces on another plate and kept them all where they were supposed to go.  "There is a chocolate ganache glaze," I kept chanting.  "Ganache fixes anything!"

              I got the peanut butter filling on and learned immediately to be careful spreading it, otherwise the cake sticks to it and rolls right up over the knife.  More panting and chanting.  Finally I got the filling spread on the bottom layer.

              Now it was time to reassemble the jigsaw puzzle of a top.  Except the cake was so moist that a thin layer of it stuck to the plate the top was sitting on.  And the large sections broke into small chunks.  Gradually, I got all the pieces put back on top of the cake.  With the peanut butter filling, the torte was now nearly 3 inches high, in spite of losing a good eighth of an inch on that other plate, but it looked like a chocolate mosaic.

              No one has been happier to make ganache than I was that day.  This will cover all sins, I told myself.  It will be shiny and beautiful.

              Oh, it was nice and shiny all right, but underneath that glistening surface you could see every lump and bump, every nook and cranny, every place where anything underneath was not absolutely perfect.  Kind of reminded me of the last time I tried on a dress a size too small.

              So now what?  Do I take this monstrosity to our potluck?  Well, it was a tiny little potluck made up of one of my classes and their families and they always count on me for an entrée and a dessert.  I had no time left to make another after having spent not only two hours on this ugly thing, but another one on the entrée and another couple studying.  And besides that, this thing was expensive.  I sure couldn't afford to throw it away.

              So the next afternoon I took my so-called torte and apologized for bringing the ugliest thing on God's creation to our lunch.  For some reason, it didn't stop them from eating it, and one even asked for the recipe.  "Sorry," I told her, "I threw it away."

              Well, guess what?  Every one of us is an ugly cake.  God took beautiful ingredients and made us "in His own image," but for some reason we all eventually turned out just plain ugly.

              We have all sunk into the morass of sin and crumbled beneath its weight.  Even when we proclaim our commitment we often manage to stick to things we should have let go of.  We fall to pieces in trials and temptations instead of standing strong.  It took Him a few thousand years of piecing things together, fixing the things we made even more messes of, and spending the most awful cost to do it, but He made us into a cake that tastes pretty good when we follow His directions.  Oh, the lumps and bumps may still show through occasionally.  Our imperfections may leave scars that simply cannot be hidden, but He is ultimately satisfied when we forget about trying to fix things ourselves and just do it His way, not worrying what others might think about how we look.  He won't give up and throw us away, but will take us to the Feast he has prepared, and will not be ashamed of what an ugly cake we were to begin with.  After all, ganache—in this case, grace—can fix anything.
 
Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me. (Rev 3:20)
 
Dene Ward