Most of us know that America is named after Amerigo Vespucci, an Italian who voyaged to the New World first in 1497.  What we don't know is that he wasn't much of an explorer after all.  His claim to fame seems to be that he is the first one who realized that North and South America were two separate continents and that neither were part of Asia.  But many scholars believe he was a second-rate explorer at best, even if he was (we think) the first person to discover the mouth of the Amazon River.  Vespucci died on this date in 1512.
            What many knowledgeable people remember him for now is pickles (Mental Floss, "A Brief History of Pickles" by Michele Debczak, Sept 3, 2021.)  It seems that before he began exploring, he was a ship chandler, a supply merchant to ships and explorers.  It is said that Vespucci even furnished supplies for one of Columbus's voyages.  Crossing the Atlantic took a while, and without refrigeration, ordinary food would spoil.  So ships usually carried supplies of both dried and pickled foods to carry them through.  The pickled items were especially helpful in preventing scurvy.  Pickle sellers were indispensable in the Golden Age of Exploration.  In later times Ralph Waldo Emerson called Vespucci "the pickle dealer of Seville," which was meant to be derisive, but was not untrue, except perhaps in scope.
            Pickles have been important in history since about 4000 BC in Mesopotamia.  I have even read that the "cucumbers" in the Bible were really pickles.  Once again, it was a matter of storage, but also of nutrition.  You could pickle practically any fruit or vegetable and that meant a better diet for all those folks so long ago.
            I happen to like pickles, usually dill.  But once upon a time, I discovered something a little different.
          I first had one thirty-nine years ago in a rural community southwest of here.  The farm wife put them on the table in a clear gallon jar and we dug into the neck with a long skinny fork she must have found just for that job.  They were sweet, thin, crisp, gave a crunch as loud as a kettle-cooked potato chip and left a small twinge in your jaw right under your ear from the perfect amount of vinegar.  It was the first sweet pickle I had ever liked, and I was becoming more and more adept at canning and preserving and wanted to give this one a try since the whole family liked them.
            "Could I possibly have the recipe?" I asked her.
            She hesitated and I presumed it was one of her "secret" recipes that she did not like to share, but no, that was not the problem at all.
            "It's a really old recipe with strange directions," she said, "but if you can figure out what they mean and follow them carefully, it does work.  It is very important that you follow the directions carefully and don't change anything."
            My first thought was that she could easily write it so I could understand it, whatever the problem was, but when she handed it to me to copy for myself, I saw the issues right away.
            The recipe called for "a gallon of water and enough salt to float an egg." 
            "I've never measured it," she said.  "I just keep adding salt to a gallon of water until an egg floats."
            Oh, well, all right. 
           The next ingredient was "a ten cent tin of alum."  If you have bought any groceries lately, you have probably not seen anything for ten cents, and you probably haven't seen a tin of alum either.
            "Just find a small container of alum and buy it," were her not so helpful instructions.
            At least the rest of the directions were clear—sort of.  On day four when you layered cucumbers and sugar, you assumed it was granulated sugar and you also assumed that it needed to be enough sugar to form a real layer, not just a mere sprinkling.  She didn't really help me with that one.  "Until it looks right," doesn't help if you've never seen it before.
            But I took that recipe home and went at it.
            Day 1—Wash and slice enough cucumbers to fill a clear gallon jug.  Dissolve enough salt to float an egg in a bit less than a gallon of water (because of displacement), and pour over the cucumbers.  Put on the lid and set aside for 24 hours. 
            It must have taken me 15 minutes to get the salt right.  I kept adding it by the tablespoonful, determined to find a set amount and that stupid egg kept sinking right to the bottom of the pot.  Finally I tossed the tablespoon measure aside and just poured it in.  At something just over a cup, the egg sank under the water, then slowly rose so that a piece of shell the size of a quarter showed above the surface and the egg bobbed up and down freely when I jiggled the pan.
            Day 2—Pour out the salt water and rinse the cucumbers.  Dissolve the alum in the same amount of clean water and pour it over them.  Cover and set aside for another 24 hours.  I had finally found the alum at a small town grocery store just ten miles up the highway.  Even all those years ago, its price had risen nearly 700% to 69 cents.
            Day 3—Pour out the alum water and rinse the cucumbers.  Pour distilled white vinegar over them until covered.  By that third day, they had shrunk enough that the cucumbers no longer filled the gallon jar, and you needed nearly a gallon of vinegar to cover them.
            Day 4—Pour out the vinegar.  DO NOT RINSE.  Sterilize either a gallon glass jar or several pint jars.  Add a layer of pickles and then a layer of sugar, again and again until you fill the jar(s).  Put on the lid and set it in your pantry.  By this time, the pickles are so preserved, you don't even have to seal them!  In a week or two, the sugar will have dissolved and mixed with the vinegar that remains on the pickles and make the sweet pickle juice.  Chill before serving.
            My family loved these pickles.  Some days I put a new pint jar on the table with a meal and it was emptied by the time we finished eating.  And here is the thing I want you to think about today:  it was an old recipe.  It sounded a little odd.  In fact, I had to translate it here and there into something that fit today's ingredients, like a 69 cent tin of alum instead of a 10 cent tin.  But I still had to follow the recipe to a tee for it to turn out right—nothing was intrinsically different about what I did.  And it still worked.  Never have I seen another recipe like it.  No other pickle recipe tells me I don't have to seal them in a canner so that we don't all get botulism.  The procedure preserves them that well.
            God has a recipe too.  People today think it's odd.  They look at it and think it won't work anymore.  They think they can change it and it will still turn out fine.  Certainly no one's spiritual health will suffer if we just change this one little thing to suit us.
            Botulism is a pretty nasty disease.  So is sin.  So is disobedience.  Be careful when you decide that God's old recipe is too much trouble, too hard to understand, or no longer relevant.  I'd hate for you to get fatally ill over it.
 
Thus says Jehovah, Stand in the ways and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way; and walk therein, and you shall find rest for your souls: but they said, We will not walk therein.  And I set watchmen over you, saying, Hearken to the sound of the trumpet; but they said, We will not hearken.  Therefore hear, you nations, and know, O congregation, what is among them.  Hear, O earth: behold, I will bring evil upon this people, even the fruit of their thoughts, because they have not hearkened unto my words; and as for my law, they have rejected it. (Jer 6:16-19)
 
Dene Ward

There is no doubt historically that the first century church used only vocal music.
            “All the music employed in their early services was vocal,” Frank Landon Humphreys, Evolution of Church Music.
            “[Early church music was] purely vocal,” Dr Frederic Louis Ritter, Director, School of Music, Vassar.
         “While pagan melodies were always sung to instrumental accompaniment, the church chant was exclusively vocal.  Clement says, ‘Only one instrument do we use, the word of peace…’ Chrysostom: ‘Our tongues are the strings of the lyre, with a different tone, indeed, but with a more accordant piety.’  Ambrose expresses his scorn for those who would play the lyre and psaltery instead of singing hymns and psalms…Augustine adjures believers not to turn their hearts to theatrical instruments.  The[se] religious guides of the early Christians felt that there would be an incongruity, and even profanity, in the use of…instrumental sound in their…spiritual worship…the pure vocal utterance was the more proper expression of their faith.”  Edward Dickinson, Professor of Music History, Conservatory of Music, Oberlin, Music in the History of the Western Church.
            “[There was a time] when organs were very seldom found outside the Church of England.  The Methodists and Baptists rarely had them, and by the Presbyterians they were strongly opposed…even in the Church of England itself, organs did not obtain admission without much controversy,” John Spencer Curwin, Royal Academy of Music.
            From A History of Western Music by Donald Jay Grout:  Early Christian music was monophonic, meaning it had no harmony or counterpoint—everyone sang the same tune.
            Judaism had a huge influence on the singing in the early church.  Psalms were sung almost exclusively in the beginning, in several different ways.  Sometimes they sang in alternation between a soloist and the congregation.  This was called RESPONSORIAL PSALMODY.  Sometimes two parts of verses or alternate verses were sung by two groups.  This was called ANTIIPHONAL PSALMODY.  At still other times a SOLOIST sang a certain passage using melodic formulas which could be altered to suit the cadence of the text.  Because he was doing it ad lib, it was simply impossible for anyone else to sing with him.
            Early hymns were probably sung to folk tunes the people knew, and were eventually put into a book.  The oldest piece of church music found was a hymn of praise.  We have only the last few lines and it was so mutilated it could not be completely reconstructed.  It was found in Oxyrhynchos, Egypt and dated from the end of the third century (200’s).  It is known as the Oxyrhynchos fragment. 
            The emphasis of music in the early church was on ecstasy (Spirit-filled revelation) and individual liberty, 1 Cor 14:26.  It can be established absolutely that the early church sang without instrumental accompaniment.
           A capella does not mean unaccompanied music.  A capella is Latin for “in the style of the church.”  Everyone simply understood that sacred music in the church was to be sung without accompaniment because it always had been.
          When instrumental music was first introduced in the Catholic Church, it was fought vehemently, and only fully accepted several hundred years later, around the 11th century.  Even in the nineteenth century, some conservative denominations avoided it, calling it “Romanist,” as in "Roman Catholic.”
            The Greek Orthodox Church divided from the Roman Catholic Church in the 11th century.  (Today it consists of 13 branches, including the Russian Orthodox, Bulgarian Orthodox, Slavic Orthodox, etc.)  These native Greek speakers had two issues with the Romans, the use of the word baptizo and the word psallo.  They understood the original language and therefore rejected the introduction of sprinkling as baptism, and instrumental music in the singing of hymns.  They knew that the one word in the first century meant “immerse” and the other meant “sing” and nothing else.  To this day, the Orthodox Church still sings a cappella.
           
 A Personal Note
 
            Some of you might be surprised if I said, “Yes!  The early church had music.”  “They sang without music,” is a common error, and one of my pet peeves.  If you sing without music, you are a mighty poor singer!  Singing is music. 
            As someone who has been there, in college you study two types of music—instrumental or vocal.  Under the vocal division, you can sing with accompaniment or without--a capella.  So much for the piano being merely an incidental—it totally changes the type of music. 
            As a piano/vocal major, one of my music education professors reminded me not to be tempted to play the piano every time the children sang.  “They will never learn to carry a tune in a bucket,” she said, speaking of the crutch the piano would be to their ear development.  In fact, a capella choirs are considered the most elite because their singers must have a good ear to stay on pitch.  Any voice students I have had who were raised in the church singing a capella always had better aural capability than their friends in the denominations.  And I have always considered it a little presumptuous to think that a manmade instrument can improve on the one God made.
 
Dene Ward

The posts today and tomorrow will be a little different.  As a musician I am sometimes asked about our music practices in the church.  I hope these two posts will give you the information you need to answer similar questions.
 
I.  Characteristics of Language
           
            The first thing we need to understand is that words in any language change over the years.  What may have one meaning now, meant something else entirely a couple hundred years ago.
            Take the word “silly.”  We know it means “absurd, foolish or stupid.”  Did you know that it originally meant “happy and blessed?”  How about “lewd?”  It now means “sexually unchaste;” originally it meant “a common person as opposed to clergy.”  “Idiot” now has the specific meaning of “someone whose mental age does not exceed three,” and a colloquial meaning of “a foolish or stupid person.”  Originally it meant “someone in private station as opposed to someone holding public office.”  So five hundred years ago, most of us could have been described as silly, lewd idiots and we would not have taken offense!
            Be careful of root words too.  Do you know what the root word for “nice” is?  The Latin nescius.  Nescius means “ignorant!”  Think about that the next time someone tells you how nice you look on Sunday morning.  None of these English words’ early definitions have much of anything to do with the way they are used nowadays, so when you look up the definition of a Greek or Hebrew word you must be careful to find the definition for the time period of the original writing.  (The information for these two paragraphs come from Exegetical Fallacies by D. A. Carson.)
            “In the age of Alexander the Great…the Greek language underwent [a huge] change…a literary prose language was formed which was founded on the Attic dialect, yet differed from it by adopting a common Greek element…admitting numerous provincialisms.  A popular spoken language arose in which the previously distinct dialects spoken by the various Greek tribes were blended, with a predominance of the Macedonic variety.”  Dr George Benedict Winer, Grammar of the Greek Testament.
            “The usage of the classic Greek authors varies so much according to the time, place, subject, etc.”  Alexander Buttman, Grammar of the New Testament Greek.
            “…Gradual changes in the vocabulary were going on steadily through the whole period which [led up to the first century].  That force of spoken language which is always weakening old words and bringing in new expressions to be toned down in their turn, was acting powerfully in Greek as it does now in English.”  James Moulton, An Introduction to the Study of New Testament Greek.
            “The historical investigation of the language of the New Testament…has shown [it] to be…a specimen of the colloquial form of late Greek, and of the popular colloquial language in particular.”  Dr Adolph Deissman, New Light on the New Testament.
            “By far the most important changes…are those which refer to new or modified meanings given to already existing and current Greek words, whether in the old Classic or in the new Postclassical Greek.  It is these changes which especially concern us in the study of the New Testament.” Charles Louis Loos, Professor Emeritus of Greek Language and Literature, Christian Quarterly Review.
            Accordingly, psallo went through the following changes in meanings as the years progressed:
 
            To pull out one’s hair
            To pull the string of a bow
            To twitch a carpenter’s line
            To play a musical instrument
            To sing (any type of song)
            To sing praises
 
Psalmos went through these changes:
 
            Music of a harp
            A song accompanied by a musical instrument
            A song, sacred or secular, accompanied or a capella
            A hymn of praise
 
            I found the following definitions for psallo and its derivative psalmos as they were used in the first century AD:
 
Robinson—in later usage, a song of praise to God.
Pickering—a psalm, an ode, a hymn
Groves—a psalm or hymn
Donnegan—by later writers, a hymn or ode
Parkhurst—to sing, to sing praises or songs to God
Dunbar—to sing, or celebrate with hymns
Greenfield—to sing, to sing in honor or praise of, to celebrate in song; a sacred song
Cantopolous—to sing or celebrate
Maltby—to praise
Hamilton—to sing; a song or hymn
Thayer—to sing; to celebrate the praises of God in song; a pious song
Sophocles (Greek playwright)—to chant or sing religious hymns
Green—in the New Testament to sing; in the New Testament, a sacred song
 
            By the first century it is obvious that the word psallo had left behind any meaning having to do with strings and simply meant “to sing.”  Psalmos had become far more specific than its origins and was used to refer only to sacred unaccompanied songs.
            Tomorrow we will continue this study.
 
Dene Ward

Bear attacks in Florida are rare.  The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission had only reported 14 such attacks before January 13, 2022 (and since 1976 when they started keeping records), when a black bear jumped a woman in Debary, north of Orlando that day.  She was walking her dog when attacked, the bear coming at her again and again as she ran, and finally throwing her to the ground.  She kept fighting and was able to escape with scratches on her face and back, and a concussion.  When sheriff's deputies arrived, they spotted a mother bear in a tree with three yearlings, and there you have the probable reason for the attack—a Mama protecting her babies.
            God puts something in mothers that is fearsome.  There is a reason people say that the most dangerous creature is a mother who thinks her young are threatened.  All of us in the ladies’ Bible class call it “the mama bear” in us.
            Once we lived in a big old frame house on a rural highway, a dirt road running down the edge of the side yard to its north.  Lucas at four was already a tree climber and the small chinaberry in that section of the lawn was a favorite.  He could reach the lowest limb standing flat-footed on the ground, then swing his legs up to it to hang upside down, pull himself up to sit or even stand on that long sturdy branch.
            One afternoon he was playing in the tree when a group of boys came walking down the dirt road.  There were four of them, ninth or tenth grade teenagers, every one of them bigger and heavier than I.  They must not have seen me among the sheets and towels as I hung out the last load of laundry.  Surely they would have known better than to start teasing a small child with his mother present.  Very quickly the name-calling and threatening turned into all four of them coming at my little guy with arms raised.  What were they thinking?
            I emerged from the folds of flapping laundry breathing fire and probably screaming like a banshee—my memory of the event is just a little foggy.  I do remember that four young toughs wilted before my eyes, turned tail and ran.  I grabbed my baby, ran up the back porch steps into the kitchen and sank into a chair, rocking him as the slam of the screen door echoed through the old house.
            I was thoroughly shaken, not by the boys, but by my own actions.  Where in the world had that come from?  It came from God, the strength to overcome a timid nature and forget your own safety in order to protect your small, innocent child who is unable to protect himself.  We all have that Mama Bear somewhere inside us.  I doubt we could keep it hidden if we wanted to when the need for it arose.
            God put that feeling in us, so surely it must be in Him.  Yet somehow He managed to ignore it.  His Son’s life was not only threatened, but taken in a horrible, painful way, and He managed somehow to stifle that strong, boiling emotion that rises out of you in an almost uncontrollable manner.
            And do you know why?  Because when Satan came after us, his adopted children, He didn’t stifle it, but instead gave free rein to the Mama Bear in Himself.  He loved us so much He found a way to save us, even at an almost unbearable cost.
            Think about that the next time you want to rail at God for the pain you think He has caused you.  We caused Him much more pain and He loves us anyway.
 
Herein was the love of God manifested in us, that God has sent his only begotten Son into the world that we might live through him.  Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins, 1 John 4:9,10.
 
Dene Ward
 

On December 27, 1933, the Sinaitic Manuscript, one of the great ancient manuscripts of the Bible, arrived at the British Museum in London.  It had been purchased from the Russian Government for 100,000 pounds, which was then a little over half a million dollars.  More than half the purchase price was donated by the public.  It is said that the manuscript was greeted by a large crowd and that all the men removed their hats as it passed by them.  Respect.  For the Word of God.  Less than a century ago, by the way.
            The Sinaitic Manuscript is the earliest complete copy of the New Testament, and also contains a portion of the Greek Old Testament, the Septuagint.  It was originally found at St. Catherine's Monastery at what is believed to be the original Mt. Sinai.  Later it was sent as a gift to the Russian Czar, Alexander II.  Later of course, after Marxism took control (please note:  socialism does not like religion), first under Lenin and then Stalin, it became something they were happy to dispense with, especially at the price believers were more than willing to pay. (Lightfoot, How We Got the Bible)
            And what is happening today?  Even by people who study it as their career, it is called a book of ancient myths, full of errors, and certainly not authoritative for our lives.  You can find websites that regularly poke fun or ask ridiculous questions (that only show the askers' ignorance) designed to denigrate the Bible.  Moses did not write the Pentateuch.  Abraham never really existed.  The Gospel of John is anti-Semitic.  Daniel is history written to look like prophecy.  Isaiah was written in two or three sections, some much later than the other.  Those last two are supposed to undo the great evidence of prophecy in both of those books.
            When I was a child, I heard someone famous, I don't remember who, say on television that one day the Bible would be banned in America but eagerly read in Russia.  That was the height of the Cold War and an unthinkable idea.  Now I am not so sure.  So what do we do about it?
            People have denied, defamed, and even destroyed Bibles for a long, long time.  Stop, take a breath, and calm down.  This is the Word of God we are talking about, a Word He has kept safe for us through thousands of years in ways no one can legitimately deny.  It will not cease to exist no matter what happens in our time.   Heaven and earth shall pass away: but my words shall not pass away (Luke 21:33).  Show that Word the respect it deserves in your keeping of it, and in your speech about it.  Study it like it actually means something to you and follow it no matter what it costs. 
            Take off your "hat" in your heart whenever it passes by.
 
For all flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass.  The grass withers, and the flower falls, but the word of the Lord remains forever, 1 Pet 1:24.                        

 Dene Ward        

Although I was not a particular fan of hers, I do remember when it happened.  Sometime around midnight, November 29, 1981, the actress Natalie Wood fell off a yacht and drowned.  She had had dinner with her husband Robert Wagner, and fellow-actor Christopher Walken earlier in the evening.  That meal involved drinking.  Back on the yacht the two men got into some sort of argument.  At a later time, Wagner admitted that he and Natalie had also gotten into an argument.  Around midnight, Wagner noticed she was missing and called for help.  She was found floating a mile from the boat off Santa Catalina Island, with a beached dinghy close by. A new investigation was opened in 2011, but nothing much came of it.  Her death is still a mystery.
            When you live in Florida, you hear of drownings quite often.  In fact, in places where there are none, you will see the sign above—No Lifeguard, Swim at Your Own Risk.  Usually, just beyond the sign, dozens of people splash around in the water, regularly going out to depths over their heads.  The risk to their lives bothers them not one wit.  The fun is worth it.
            Every summer my boys took the risk and I willingly allowed it.  We splashed in Blue Springs, Poe Springs, and Ginnie Springs.  We tubed down the Ichetucknee River from the spring head to just before the first bridge, pulling out and picnicking at the state park on tomato sandwiches and cold watermelon straight from the garden.  We even swam in the Santa Fe River and Oleno State Park while alligators sunned themselves on the opposite shore.  We weren’t the only ones who took the risks.  Everyone did, it seemed, because we were always standing in lines.
            For some reason, the risks involved in Christianity scare people much more.
            In life, it might mean sharing your life preserver with someone else, someone not as generous as you.  Turning the other cheek means you might very well be slapped again.  Going the second mile might mean being forced to go five or ten more.  Being willing to be defrauded to avoid casting aspersion on the body of Christ might mean losing money or worse, it seems, losing face.
            In our Bible study, it might mean swimming in the deep waters of profound thought, opening minds that are already made up, accepting nothing without personally verifying it, and challenging our thinking—perhaps even admitting we have been wrong about something and changing.  Scary indeed!
            In our conversion, it means having the faith to step out of the boat in the middle of a storm, and walk wherever the Lord leads us, with or without a beloved mate, a good friend, or various members of the family.
            Christians always put themselves at risk for their Lord’s sake.  It is not as if we were not warned.  He posts the sign Himself:  Swim at Your Own Risk.  But there is one difference—there is a Lifeguard when we take the plunge, one who has already given His life to save ours.  Why not enjoy the swim when we have that guarantee of safety?
 
And he said unto them, if any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whosoever would save his life shall lose it, but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it, Luke 9:23,24.

Dene Ward

A landmark is defined as an artificial or natural object or feature of a landscape that stands out, is visible from a distance, and helps establish one's location.  If ever a landmark does that it is the St Louis Arch.  Officially called the Gateway Arch as part of the Gateway Arch National Park, it stands 630 feet high along the banks of the Mississippi River.  It was designed by Eero Saarinen, begun on February 12, 1963, and completed on October 28, 1965.
            Also called, "The Gateway to the West," it was designed to memorialize the pioneers who traveled to and civilized the West, and to denote St Louis as their official jumping off point.  Other notable events are also commemorated in the entire park, which stretches to the Old Courthouse—brave explorers, women's rights, and civil rights among them.  The arch is the most visited tourist attraction in the world.  All in all, the St Louis Gateway Arch amply qualifies as a landmark.
          Landmarks are important.  When we go on a one week camping vacation, we always stay Saturday night in a hotel in the closest town we can find with a church.  There are seldom any groups of God’s people within 50 miles of a mountain campground, and many of these are small groups.  A couple of times Keith has even preached for them.
            One time we were returning to the same area two years in a row and he was able to make those preaching arrangements ahead of time.  We wanted to be sure we were on time so those poor brethren would not be frantic, but we had accidentally left the directions at home.  So we asked the hotel desk clerk to Google the church website for the address and meeting times.  When he did, all three of us were in for a surprise.
            He gave us the address then said, “6429?  I grew up at 6425 on the same street.  I know where that church is.  It’s two doors down from my dad.”
            Yet he had not recognized the “name.”  He did not know the service times, which were posted on the sign when we got there.  He didn’t know they had a website, though a large banner promoting it hung outside the building.  So much for the importance of “signs.”  He was in his mid-20s, had grown up practically next door, and knew none of those things.  Do you know why?  Because he didn’t know the names of any who assembled in that building.
            The building does not draw people.
            The sign does not draw people.
            The website does not draw people.
            All those things are for people who are already looking, many of whom even know what they are looking for--like Christians traveling through on vacation.  Since when is the mission of the church to make sure that traveling brethren can find us? 
            The gospel is what draws people, but as Paul asks in Romans 10:14, how shall they hear without a preacher?  Since we no longer have miracles to “confirm the word,” the world has to know us and know our lives before they will listen.
            It took me years to learn to talk about my wonderful brothers and sisters instead of just spouting scriptures or waiting for someone to ask me a Bible question.  I have invited many to services and to Bible studies, but forgot to tell them that being with these people was half the reason for going and in the beginning, it might be their main reason for wanting to come back.  And I forgot to tell them how much better my life was simply for allowing the Lord to lead my way.  I was too busy making sure I had some scriptures memorized for appropriate occasions and waiting for those circumstances to somehow pop up on their own.
            What does your meetinghouse mean to the neighborhood it sits in?  Do they know anything about you?  Even if all they think is, “Those people believe you have to follow the Bible exactly,” that’s better than nothing.  It means they have had contact with a person, not just a sign or a building.
            Don’t let your meetinghouse be nothing more than a landmark.  The church is supposed to show people the way.  “Go past the church and we are the second house on the right,” is not what the Lord had in mind.
 
 From you has sounded forth the word of the Lord, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place your faith to God-ward is gone forth…1 Thes 1:8.   
The righteous is a guide to his neighbor…Prov 12:26.  
 
Dene Ward

Most people love them, and they have now become a health food, rich in antioxidants.  But if it weren't for Elizabeth Coleman White, you might never see them in your supermarket produce section, and only in a few roadside stands.  Blueberries are a native American crop, one you could only get wild.  Ms. White changed that.
            She was the eldest of four daughters, born on October 5, 1871, to Quaker parents who were cranberry farmers.  Elizabeth regularly left the house with her father and went to the bogs, learning how to grow cranberries, his only crop.  By age 22 she was an employee of her father's company, in charge of packing and shipping, and occasionally delving into agricultural research, working on eliminating the cranberry katydid among other things.
          But Elizabeth began wondering about growing blueberries.  Since cranberries were a fall crop and blueberries a summer crop, they would enlarge the growing season and the profits for the family business.  Commercial cultivation of blueberries had never been done successfully before.  Then she read an article called, "Experiments in Blueberries" written by a USDA botanist named Frederick Coville.  Her interest was piqued and, with her father's permission, she invited him to come to her farm and continue the experimenting with her. 
            She put out a call to all in her area to find whatever blueberry plants they could find in the wild.  Each one was named, usually after the man who found it.  Elizabeth and her crew chose the plants they thought could survive a transplant and produce.  In 1912, despite all the naysayers, White and Coville were successful, and in 1916, the team produced the first commercial crop of blueberries.
            Elizabeth eventually became known as "The Blueberry Queen" and in 1932, the state of New Jersey gave her an award for her "outstanding contribution to agriculture."  By the 1990s, blueberry production had reached 100,000,000 pounds a year (all information from New Jersey Monthly) and because of her work, we ourselves had twelve blueberry plants that served us well for three or four decades.
           All of which leads me to picking blueberries.  Every second morning in June I would step outside into the morning steam of dew rising off the grass—much different than Ms. White's New England climate--head and eyes shielded from the bright sunshine, carrying a five quart plastic bucket to our small stand of blueberry bushes.  It always amazes me how the morning temperature can be twenty degrees cooler than the afternoon’s, yet within minutes the perspiration is rolling from hairline to chin.  Even the dogs refused to accompany me, though a shade tree stands within mere feet of the blueberries.  They sat on the carport, their bellies flat against the still cool cement and watched, probably commenting to one another about how silly humans can be, especially Floridians.
            It was so uncomfortable one morning, and the blueberries so plenteous, their weight bending the boughs in deep arcs, that after the first half hour I became a little less careful in my picking.  Often as I reached deep into the interior of a bush where I had seen several plump, ripe, dusky blueberries hanging, I simply wrapped my hand around the clump and gently nudged each one with my thumb.  Berries that are ready to be picked will fall off the stem easily, and usually I pulled out a fistful of perfectly ripe ones.  Once in awhile though, a red one appeared in my palm, and even a white or green one.  Oh well, it certainly speeded up the process to pick that way, then toss out the bad ones, and it’s not like we had a measly crop.
            I wonder sometimes if we aren’t too careful in our attempts to reach the lost.  We have a bad habit of deciding who will listen before we ever start talking and our judgments are so different that the ones the Lord made.  He cast his nets into a polluted river, hoping to save as many dying fish as possible; we cast ours into the country club swimming pool, but that is another metaphor for another time.
            Sometimes we come across a blueberry bush with most of the berries still red, not quite ripe for the picking so we pass it by and leave a couple of big ripe ones, just begging to be put into the pie.  It is too much trouble to go after them one at a time.
            Other times we see a bush with quite a few plump ripe berries and instead of just reaching out and grabbing all we can, because there are a few not quite ready, we move to another branch.  No need picking a handful when we might need to throw out half of them.  And so we only reach for the easy ones, the ones that appeal to us because they look like the pictures in the cookbook and are easy to get to.  Those showing a hint of red at the stem end might take a little more effort, a little more sugar in the pie filling.  And because of that we miss some that would give our pie more flavor.
            In another figure Jesus told us to sow the seed wherever we could, not take the time to map it into suitable planting zones.  He said the world is ripe for picking.  “Don’t cast your pearls before swine,” is about people who have had their chance and rejected it, not about us judging another’s suitability to be our brethren.  Where would we have wound up if people had treated us that way?
            Go pick some blueberries.  Grab all you can and let the Lord decide which ones will make the best pie.
 
But when he saw the multitudes he was moved with compassion for them because they were distressed and scattered, as sheep not having a shepherd.  Then he said to his disciples, the harvest indeed is plenteous, but the laborers are few.  Pray therefore the Lord of the harvest that he send forth laborers into his harvest, Matt 9:36-38
 
Dene Ward

When I was a child, we lived under the threat of Communism and the Cold War.  There was not one German nation, there were two—East and West Germany, as well as East and West Berlin, a city within East Germany.  The Eastern halves of both were Communist.  It had been like that since before I was born, since 1949, in fact.
            Then Communism fell apart, one nation at a time, and that collapse hit East Germany in 1989.  Reunification suddenly became the topic of the day.  Some nations were against it.  After all, a unified Germany had killed an estimated six million Jews, "and might do it again."  They were also primed to become the dominant power in Europe with a robust economy.  In short, some did not trust them and probably never would.
            But on October 3, 1990, East and West Germany signed the necessary papers to make them once again one nation.  The legal matters are too complicated to discuss here, but it happened and it has remained so since then.  There is now one Germany called the Federal Republic of Germany.
            God believes that unity is a good thing.  He expects it of his people, and when something happens to ruin the unity, he expects us to do everything short of sin to repair it.  For example…
              I entreat Euodia and I entreat Syntyche to agree in the Lord. Yes, I ask you also, true companion, help these women, who have labored side by side with me in the gospel together with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life.  (Phil 4:2-3).
            One of the saddest things about having been part of many different congregations in my lifetime is seeing people just like those two famous women above.  These were good women who had worked hard for the Lord, but for some reason they just could not get along.  We have seen it in every church and it is never takes long to figure out who the two parties are.  Once we were only at a place for a week-long gospel meeting and we still knew who they were well before the week was up.  That time it was two men, by the way.
            A lot of people may say that it doesn't really matter as long as they don't gather up parties on either side or cause a ruckus because, after all, the Bible doesn't say we have to like each other.  Yet the older I get and the more I study, the more I believe it does matter for one very simple reason.  Let me show you quickly this morning.
            Grab your Bible and look up Ephesians 2:11-22.  Christ came here with a mission.  The first one was making peace between God and man (Rom 5:1-3).  But he also came to make peace among men.  Look at verse 12 in this passage.  What was happening before Christ?  As Gentiles we were separate from Christ, alienated from the Jews, strangers from the covenant of promise, had no hope, and were without God.  Do you see all those words of separation and disunity?
            But now that we are in Christ we have been brought near, are one new man, are in one body of the reconciled, have access to the father, have become one nation and one family, and are built into one spiritual Temple (vv13-21).  Notice the difference in the words—nearness, access, oneness.  And why did that have to happen?  Because (v 22) God, who is a God of peace (Phil 4:9) cannot dwell in a Temple where there is no peace.
            When we think we can hang on to our little peeves and animosities and have it not affect the church, we are sadly mistaken.  It isn't just the Jew/Gentile or black/white problem, though they are bad enough.  It took Christ coming and dying to fix that and make us one nation.  But we can still ruin the whole thing if an outsider can come in and see the disunity after just a few days, when one family fights another, when two men behave like children who want their way "or else," when two women avoid one another like the plague. 
When you just can't get along, and don't really even seem to care, you may as well hang a sign on the door that says, "God not wanted here."
 
I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, ​that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.  (John 17:20-21).
 
Dene Ward
 

Charles Edward Coughlin was one of the first to broadcast religious programming over the radio, beginning in 1925.  He eventually had up to thirty million listeners in the 1930s.  He was a Roman Catholic priest, but his programs were more about politics than religion.  He began with a series of attacks on socialism and Soviet communism and moved on to American capitalism.  He even helped found a political party—the Union Party.  Finally, due to some not-so-latent anti-Semitism, he was forced off the air, announcing it in his final program on September 23, 1939.
            Others have stuck with religion and fared much better, Vernon McGee, Oral Roberts, and Billy Graham among them.  Many went on to television, but for a couple of generations, a lot of folks got their weekly dose of religion from the hump-backed radio they carefully tuned in amid high-pitched whistles and static.
         When I was young, radio evangelists were fond of ending their broadcasts with the directive to “put your hand on the radio and just believe.”  That was supposed to instantly transform the person who did nothing but sit in his recliner with a cup of coffee (or a can of beer?) into a Christian, a true believer, a person of “faith.” 
            Most mainstream denominational theologians believe in this doctrine of “mental assent.”  Faith is nothing more than believing, no action required.  Surely that must be one of those things spawned by the itching ears of listeners who wanted nothing required of them.  Just look at a few scriptures with me.
            For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love. Galatians 5:6.  What was that?  “Faith working…?”  Faith isn’t supposed to “work,” or so everyone says.  Did you know that Greek word is energeo?  Can you see it?  That’s the word we get “energy” and “energetic” from.  I don’t remember seeing too many energetic people sitting in their recliners.
            Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, Philippians 1:27.  Striving for the faith?  Even in English “striving” implies effort.  In fact, the Greek word is sunathleo.  Ask any “athlete” if mental assent will help him win a gold medal or a Super Bowl ring and you’ll hear him laughing a mile away.
            Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all, Philippians 2:17, ESV.  Now that can’t be right.  Everyone knows faith has nothing to do with outward observances of the law like sacrifices.  Well, how about this translation?  The ASV says “service of faith.”  Anyway you look at it, whether sacrifice or service, it requires some sort of action on our parts.
            Fight the good fight of faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses,1 Timothy 6:12.  Faith is a “fight.”  That Greek word is agon from which we get our word “agony.”  If you are a crossword puzzler, you know that an agon was a public fight in the Roman arena.  Anyone who did nothing but sit there, with or without a recliner, didn’t last long.
            To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ. 2 Thessalonians 1:11-12.  And there you have it in black and white:  “work of faith.” 
            Nope, some say, the trouble is you keep quoting these men.  Jesus never said any such thing.  Jesus answered them, This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent, John 6:29.  If faith itself is a work, how can we divorce the works it does from it? 
            We do have examples of mental assent in the scriptures, three that I could find easily. 
            You believe that God is one; you do well: the demons also believe, and shudder. James 2:19
            But certain also of the strolling Jews, exorcists, took upon them to name over them that had the evil spirits the name of the Lord Jesus, saying, I adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preaches. And there were seven sons of one Sceva, a Jew, a chief priest, who did this. And the evil spirit answered and said unto them, Jesus I know, and Paul I know, but who are you? Acts 19:13-15
            Those first two examples are powerful.  The devil and his minions believe in the existence of God and the deity of Jesus.  In fact, they know those things for a fact.  They even, please notice, recognize Paul as one of the Lord’s ministers.  So much for not paying attention to his or any other apostle’s writings.  Then there is this one:
            Nevertheless, many even of the authorities believed in him, but for fear of the Pharisees they did not confess it, so that they would not be put out of the synagogue; John 12:42.  Those men believed too.  They would have been thrilled to know they could put their hands on something in the privacy of their homes and “just believe.”  They could have had their cake and eaten it too—become followers without actually following.
            And therein lies the crux of the matter.  It’s easy to sit in your recliner and listen.  It’s too hard to work, to strive, to sacrifice and serve, and way too hard to fight until you experience the agony of rejection, tribulation, and persecution.
            Guess what?  Some of us believe this too.  We just substitute the pew for the recliner.  It doesn’t work that way either.  God wants us up and on our feet, working, serving, sacrificing and fighting till the end, whenever and however that may happen.
 
Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?--unless indeed you fail to meet the test! 2 Corinthians 13:5
 
Dene Ward