Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
The feeding of the five thousand is the only miracle recorded in all four gospels.  Why?  It seems to be among the simplest of the miracles and we all learned it as children.  I have long wondered what I was missing.  Certainly John's gospel adds depth with Jesus' bread of life discourse which is not recorded in Matthew, Mark or Luke.  Is there more?  What about this miracle impacted the four so deeply that they all told it?  More significantly, why did the Holy Spirit deem it so important that he inspired three repetitions?
 
In the night after the miracle, but before the discourse recorded in John six, Jesus came walking on the water to the disciples who were under distress in the storm.  When he got into the boat, the winds ceased and the disciples, "were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened" (Mk 6:52).  What did they fail to understand?  What should they have concluded from having seen the miracle of the loaves?  Mark indicates that they should have known something that would have led them to accept the miracle of calming the sea with a sense of confirmation rather than astonishment.
 
Bread is first mentioned in Jesus' ministry when Satan tempted Jesus to turn the stones to bread.  Jesus replied, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God" (Mt 4:4).  Most of us note that the quotation is from Deut 8:3 but look no further.  In the first of his three farewell sermons to the Israelites, Moses actually said, "And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD" (Deut 8:3).   Jesus' quotation was not a statement revealed by God, but a conclusion that the Israelites should have drawn from the miracle of the manna.  Jesus touched on this when he said, "Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life," and, "For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world….I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst." (John 6:27, 33-35).  After the bread of life discourse, the disciples understood that Jesus had the words of eternal life, but they did not understand that he was the Word.  Just as the Israelites failed to understand the lesson of the manna until instructed by Moses, the apostles failed to understand the message of the feeding of the five thousand. 
 
But, Mark does not mention the disciples' hardness of heart and failure to comprehend the feeding of the five thousand until after Jesus calmed the sea.  Truly, as Matthew says, they worshipped him as the Son of God, and just as truly, Mark says they had already missed something that should have kept them from being shocked by this miracle.
 
In feeding the five thousand, Jesus took the role of God feeding Israel the manna.  The five thousand were in the wilderness just as was Israel.  Jesus replaced God in this event and fed the multitude the bread of heaven that appeared from nothing by the hands of God, just as had the manna.  Even before the calming of the sea, they should have seen that he was proclaiming himself to be God by this miracle.  Had they done so, they would not have been "utterly astounded" at the calming of the sea.  They would have seen it as just another proof of his identity -- certainly wonderful, but not something new.
 
 That Old Testament miracle was designed to teach Israel that man lives by the word of God, not bread.  We can say this.  We can even say, "Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?" (Matt 6:25).  But, when we begin to give account in the night watches, we often find that we have spent more time wishing for things than praying to God; we have spent more money on our pleasures than we have given to God and the poor; we have learned new skills to keep our jobs but cannot learn the words of li
 
A prophet would proclaim that we have not learned the lesson of the feeding of the five thousand that Jesus is to be heard as God and he is life, feed on him.  Our church-going souls are starving while the cushioned pews are littered with fish and manna.
 
Keith Ward

God makes it plain in the Old Testament exactly how He feels about human sacrifice, specifically sacrificing one’s children as a part of pagan idol worship.  It is “an abomination;” it “shall not be found among you;” it “defiles you;” it “pollutes the land;” it “did not even enter into [God’s] mind” to command such a thing” (Deut 12:31; 18:10; Ezek 20:31; Psa 106: 37,38; Jer 32:35).
              And I suppose most of us think we are past that—we would never participate in something so heinous; we would never be caught up in worshipping an idol to the point that our children no longer mattered to us.  Think again.
              How many people have sacrificed their children to their careers?  And don’t automatically jump to working mothers.  God holds fathers accountable as the spiritual leaders of their families, especially in raising their children (Eph 6:4).  Too many fathers delegate everything to the mother, expecting her to somehow communicate to his children that he loves them, even when he spends practically no time at all with them, when he regularly misses piano recitals, school programs, or ball games; when he has never drunk an imaginary cup of tea at a tea party; when he has never read a bedtime story; when he has never dried a tear or given a hug, changed a diaper or given a bath, helped with a science project or played catch.  Career-minded, status-conscious, money-grubbing parents need to give thought to what they are sacrificing.  When you chose to have children, you chose to sacrifice yourselves, not them.
              And we also have those who sacrifice their children on the altar of their own feelings and opinions.  The sermon hurt my feelings, the elders told me I had to change my lifestyle, this brother or that sister came and told me I needed to repent of my sins, so I won’t go back to that church ever again.  And guess what?  Your children miss growing up among godly people, attending Bible classes that would have helped you teach them about God, and at least hearing the gospel every Sunday, whether anything you did at home ever cemented it into their minds or not.  You may not have sacrificed them to Molech, the heathen god most often associated with child sacrifice, but you actually did worse—you sacrificed them to the maker of those “abominations”—Satan Himself.  He is the one who will swoop in and claim those young souls, who have now learned from you that God isn’t all that important after all.
              Then we have the big one, for on this day in 1973, in Roe vs Wade, the Supreme Court legalized abortion.  The blood of innocent children is being shed in the name of my body, my rights, and my choice.  Read what actually happens in an abortion and it will make you sick, especially late term abortions.  I am sure the numbers change, but as I write, 60,000,000 babies have been slaughtered, and that is not too harsh a word for it.  Abortion is nothing more than human sacrifice so I don’t have to bear the responsibility of my actions.  I, me, and mine are the biggest idols we have today, and precious souls are bearing the brunt of that pagan ritual to the idol of self.
              Interestingly enough, Norma McCovey, the original Jane Roe in this legal argument, changed her mind.  In her book, Won by Love, published in 1998, she writes:

I was sitting in O.R.'s offices when I noticed a fetal development poster. The progression was so obvious, the eyes were so sweet. It hurt my heart, just looking at them. I ran outside and finally, it dawned on me. 'Norma', I said to myself, 'They're right'. I had worked with pregnant women for years. I had been through three pregnancies and deliveries myself. I should have known. Yet something in that poster made me lose my breath. I kept seeing the picture of that tiny, 10-week-old embryo, and I said to myself, that's a baby! It's as if blinders just fell off my eyes and I suddenly understood the truth—that's a baby!
I felt crushed under the truth of this realization. I had to face up to the awful reality. Abortion wasn't about 'products of conception'. It wasn't about 'missed periods'. It was about children being killed in their mother's wombs. All those years I was wrong. Signing that affidavit, I was wrong. Working in an abortion clinic, I was wrong. No more of this first trimester, second trimester, third trimester stuff. Abortion—at any point—was wrong. It was so clear. Painfully clear.[3]

              While I am certainly thrilled for her change of heart, she had to live with the results of her actions for the rest of her life.  Her repentance on this matter did nothing to stop the continuing murder of children.
              Child sacrifice is alive and well in the world today, and too many of us are guilty in our own ways, too.
 
“Therefore say to the house of Israel, Thus says the Lord GOD: Will you defile yourselves after the manner of your fathers and go whoring after their detestable things? When you present your gifts and offer up your children in fire, you defile yourselves with all your idols to this day. And shall I be inquired of by you, O house of Israel? As I live, declares the Lord GOD, I will not be inquired of by you, Ezek 20:30-31.
 
Dene Ward
 

We live in a rural county.  We have no garbage pickup.  Instead we have dumpsites at several places with recycling bins and a dumpster for household garbage.  We have to haul our own trash.  Ask yourself how much trash and garbage your family generates in a day.  How many garbage cans do you have outside and how many times can you empty the trash indoors before your outside can is full?  Now, how often would you like to drive several miles to dump your trash, and how many of those big trash cans will fit in your car?  You now know one reason most of the folks out here have a pickup truck!
              But this also explains the burn barrel.  We keep two receptacles in the house—one for wet garbage and one for burnable trash.  The more we can burn, the less often we have to cart garbage cans down the highway.  We put everything we possibly can in that box of trash—junk mail, out-of-date documents, bills, and receipts, cardboard boxes, empty plastic containers and lids, plastic bottles and bags, old rags, irreparable clothes—everything that will burn, or melt and then burn.  Don’t talk to me about recycling.  We recycle in several other ways, and this practice saves gas.
              But let me ask you this. Would you ever put anything important in a burn barrel?  Of course not.  Do you know what God thinks of this world?  He has his own burn barrel, and this world is what He plans to throw in it.
              We need to remember that.  Too often we become enamored of the very things God will ultimately destroy.  Some of our favorite things in life are sitting in God’s burn barrel.  Even when we think we have our priorities straight, we often do not.
              I remember telling my little boys that one day we would take a month long camping trip out west.  We would show them all those beautiful national parks they had only heard about.  They could look across the Grand Canyon, watch Old Faithful erupt, and stand in a place where the mountains rose peak after peak after peak with no signs of modern man—no power lines, no sounds of traffic, not even a tangled skein of contrail in the perfect blue sky--a place where a thousand years before some native had stood and enjoyed the same view.  It never happened.  We never had the money or the time.  They are grown now and can understand the pressures of life, making a living, paying the bills, meeting one’s responsibilities to others, but I have always felt bad about missing that trip.  We managed one or two other things while they were still at home, but never that one.
              But remember this, no matter how good a plan it was, how good the values we were trying to instill with an appreciation of God as the Creator of all that majestic beauty, God Himself doesn’t think that much of it.  It’s temporary.  He plans to destroy it all.  The things God meant for me to teach those boys were things I could teach any time, any place, no matter how much money we did or didn’t have. 
               The Bible is full of people who did not have the right priorities—Esau for one, who sold a birthright for one meal.  The Hebrew writer calls him “profane” (Heb 12:16).  Paul talks about having a “mind of the spirit” rather than a “mind of the flesh” (Rom 8:4).  And why?  Because Jesus’ kingdom is “not of this world” (John 18:36).  It is “not meat and drink” (Rom 14:17).  So many things we allow ourselves to become upset about simply do not matter.  Traffic jams?  Noisy neighbors?  Pet peeves?  Even the trials of life—precisely because it is this life we are becoming distracted with.
              For many walk, of whom I told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end is perdition, whose god is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things. For our citizenship is in heaven; whence also we wait for a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, Phil 3:18-20.  Yes, Paul says that when I let things of this life upset me to the point of distraction that my “god is my belly.”  I am not supposed to be minding those earthly things.
              So today, think about God’s burn barrel.  He has a place for the things He plans to destroy, just like I do, one that gets too full too fast.  God’s burn barrel holds things like wealth, possessions, awards, careers, opinions, irritations, Jimmy Choo shoes, stock portfolios, time shares on the beach, cabins in the mountains, camping trips out west—even this earthly tabernacle that so many try to keep looking young.  They all go in the barrel at the end of the Day.  And God will light the fire Himself.
 
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed…Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set on fire and dissolved, and the heavenly bodies will melt as they burn! But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you are waiting for these, be diligent to be found by him without spot or blemish, and at peace, 2Pet 3:10-14.
 
Dene Ward

I have only seen it once and hope to never again.  We were guests of others on Christmas Day and their method of passing out gifts went like this:  One person starting picking up presents, read the name, passed it to its recipient and continued, about one every five seconds.  In five minutes it was over with.  Everyone else was sitting there panting with exertion amid piles of crumpled wrapping paper and snarled up ribbon, and no one knew who got what from whom.  Meanwhile, my poor boys were still opening up what were far fewer, far less expensive presents, and looking up at the folks around them with a look of befuddlement.  "That's not how it's supposed to be," was clearly written on their faces.
              So how was it supposed to be?  We never had much money growing up, but my mother was still careful to teach us the point of gift-giving—it was to do kind things for others, not amass things for oneself.  She taught us to listen to one another all year long, to make note—sometimes literally—of things different ones of us needed or mentioned wanting, usually something that would make life a little easier.  None of us ever wished for the expensive and unattainable.  What was the point?  And then a couple of weeks before Christmas, the four of us went to the Mall, my sister and I with money carefully saved from our allowances and birthday gifts.  We divided up and I went with my father to buy for my mother and my sister, while she went with our mother to buy for me and our father.  Then we met in the middle of the concourse at a predetermined time and switched companions in order to finish our shopping.  We were usually so excited about what we had gotten each other it was difficult to keep the secret.
              Then on Christmas morning each one in turn got to choose a gift to give to another.  We all sat and watched that person open the gift.  The joy, the excitement, the pleasure on the other person's face was as much a part of the gift to us as the gift to the receiver.  We had very few gifts under that tree, but that gift giving process lasted far longer than our neighbors' who were soon out riding new bikes or scooters and hauling out boxes of trash while we were still sitting there enjoying the process of giving as well as receiving.
              I passed that on to my boys.  We were in the same boat as my parents in their early days—not much money and few gifts.  But they have both told me that choosing the gifts and watching their opening was always their favorite part of Christmas.  I still see that in them as mature adults, looking to give, looking to see the needs of others, looking for ways to share what they have.  My mother did that for me and she has now done it for them too.  I think I see it in my grandchildren as well.
              Christmas does not have to be about materialism.  What it does have to be about is this:  It is more blessed to give than to receive, (Acts 20:35).  Don't let your Christmas morning be a feeding frenzy of piranha in the river "Gimme."  Make it a point to take time and savor your gifts to others.  My mother thought that was what it was all about, and that is a gift I truly treasure.
 
Dene Ward

For something that is supposed to be the pre-eminent “Sports Channel,” ESPN leaves me remarkably cold—or actually hot.
              I can count on CBS to replay nearly every play of any significance immediately.  Not just touchdowns either.  They will show the touchdown from several angles, then show the quarterback as he passed, or the line as they opened the holes for the runner, or any other contributing factor.  If there is a penalty, we see it happen.  If there was an excellent block we see the block.  If a defender made an amazing move around a lineman, we see the move.
              ESPN?  I doubt that even half the plays are shown again.  Instead, we get an interview with someone on the sideline who might possibly have something to do with the game, but more likely doesn’t—he just happens to be famous.  Or we get an update from a game we chose not to watch and have to watch a piece of anyway rather than a replay of our chosen game.  Most of the time, we never get the replay, even if it was a 50 yard run to set the team up with first and goal.
              On ESPN the commentators talk about every game except the one we are watching.  In fact, they sometimes talk about a different sport altogether.  We hear about other players, other coaches, and other schools—anything but the game we are watching.  We are told the records of every Heisman hopeful, even if they are not playing in our game.  We know which coach played for which other coaches, even if they are not coaching our team.  And they can’t even do it with good English.
              But sometimes we’re stuck.  It’s the only place we can see our team play—and win, we hope, despite not being able to see the instant replays in a timely fashion and at a meaningful angle.
              I guess a lot of people don’t mind.  They are putting up with the same things at the church they attend.  They say they are Christians but their preachers present sermons about societal ills—the ones deemed politically correct to talk about--about love and acceptance of everything and everyone no matter how many of Christ’s commands they break, and never once mention the name of the Savior they claim to worship—Rotary Club talks, inspirational talks, anything but a sermon.  (See yesterday's post.) They are handed pamphlets that some board somewhere else decided they needed to study rather than the Word of God, and certainly nothing actually relevant to that particular group and its needs.  If they learn anything, it’s about another game altogether, not God’s.
              Maybe these folks don’t know what to look for.  They expect entertainment rather than edification, emotion rather than instruction, famous people and rip-roaring religious fervor, along with a meal or two to keep the belly from growling.  Jesus had some choice things to say about people like that.  Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.  Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal” John 6:26-27.  It isn’t about the feel-good physical, he told them, it’s about ME!
              On Sunday mornings, I want to hear about my Lord.  I want to study the Word of God and learn more from it than I knew the day before.  On the other hand, I don’t mind a repeat of an old lesson, perhaps from a new angle, and certainly prefer that to an interview on the sideline with someone who is supposed to be “famous” in the religious world.  Big name preachers can sin the same as the rest of us. 
            And you know what?  We CAN turn this channel.  We can look for something else.  You can look for something else.  Give me the simple truth of the gospel and the quiet worship of those people long ago.  Why don’t you come with me so we can find it together?  Nothing else can fill your soul quite the same way.
 
I am the bread of life.  Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.  This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” John 6:48-51.
 
Dene Ward
 

Most of us are familiar with the history of the Pilgrims.  We know they left England looking for both religious and economic freedom.  We also know they arrived at land on November 21, 1620, though they spent most of that winter ferrying back and forth to the ship.  What I did not realize was the date they left England—September 16.  Why on earth would they leave just as fall was about to begin, knowing they would not arrive in time to build warm homes or plant anything?
 
             Turns out they originally left in July, but had to turn back twice.  Their sister ship, the Speedwell, leaked!  Eventually they went on without her.  In addition they were headed for Virginia and were blown off course by stormy seas.  All in all, this led to a disastrous winter, with over half the colonists succumbing. 

             It was the next fall that they celebrated that first Thanksgiving meal with their new Native American friends.  All of us know about the pilgrims, and can even recognize their dress.  I always have the famous Publix Pilgrim salt and pepper shakers on my holiday table with their buckled shoes, and brown clothing.  And that reminds me…

              Thirty years ago I saw a dress in a catalogue that I adored.  My style tends to be plain, tailored, and dark.  I generally like a blousy waistline because it makes me look like I have one, which I haven’t had since I was about two years old.  Every time that catalogue came, I salivated over that dress, a black shirtwaist with long button-cuff sleeves and a broad, white collar embroidered on the edges.  At that time we just couldn’t afford it.  Feeding two teenage boys and paying a mortgage on a state salary and music studio tuitions was almost more than we could handle.

              A couple of years ago I was wandering through a second hand clothing store.  You would be surprised the bargains you can find if you are careful.  I have bought name brands for literally one-tenth their original price, some of them with the original price tags still on them, the extra buttons still sealed in plastic. 

              That day I saw the black arms hanging out from the press of the rack; I saw the white collar.  Could it be?  I checked the neckline for the label and found the old catalogue name.  So I pulled it out and felt a thrill.  This was the dress I had wished for.  Twenty years ago it was a $45 dress.  This store wanted $6.00!  Then came the moment of truth:  I checked the size.  Yes!  Just to make sure, I tried it on, and then quickly shelled out my $6 and change for tax.  It almost made me believe in fate.

              This dress is long sleeved and a fairly heavy knit so it was just after Thanksgiving before I could wear it here in Florida.  I wore it to church that Sunday.  One of the first people I saw, a sweet five year old, came running up and exclaimed, “Mrs. Dene!  You look just like a pilgrim!”  I laughed a little, gave her a hug and thanked her.  Before I was halfway down the hall, another child came running up and said the same thing, word for word. 

              Okay, I thought.  I look like a pilgrim.  Maybe it’s too close to Thanksgiving to wear this.

              In the middle of January I wore it again.  A third sweet child gave me the same compliment.  It was enough to make me wonder, do they teach this phrase in the Bible classes these days?  But I suppose what capped it all was a good friend who came up to me and laughed, saying, “You look like a pilgrim!”

              I donated the dress to another thrift store.  All I could see when I looked in the mirror were the missing white cap, buckled shoes and white stockings.  It certainly isn’t what I thought of when I used to moon over that catalogue.

              I wonder if Abraham and Sarah had in mind the pilgrim life God had planned for them when they answered the call to “Go to a land I will show you.”  That doesn’t necessarily sound like they would always be nomads.  It doesn’t sound like they would never have an earthly home again.  When someone tells me to go, usually they have a specific destination in mind.

              Even if they didn’t understand that in the beginning, they finally did.  By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God, Heb 11:8-10.  Eventually they knew they would never have a home on this earth, that the real one was waiting beyond the border of physical life and death.

              We must eventually, and as soon as possible, learn the same thing.  Our culture is too caught up in the here and now, in instant gratification, in “if it feels good do it.”  We think this is what matters.  That’s why we let it bother us so much when things do not go right.  That’s why we become angry over the inconsequential and throw away the truly valuable, including our hope.  They made me mad and they are going to know it!  They took what’s mine, and I have a right to take it back.  They hurt me and now I am going to hurt them—usually in exactly the same low way they hurt me. 

              If I know what it means to be a pilgrim in this world, none of that matters.  I don’t need to throw a tantrum.  I don’t need to get even.  I don’t need to have more and more and more because everyone else has it.  I don’t even need an easy, carefree life with no trials.  It will never compare to Heaven no matter how wonderful it is, and it certainly isn’t worth giving up Heaven for.

              Maybe I should have kept the “Pilgrim” dress.  Maybe it would have reminded me of things I need to remember, when I need to remember them most.  Maybe you need to wear it, too.
 
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city, Heb 11:13,15.
 
Dene Ward

As for me, I said in my prosperity, “I shall never be moved.” Psalm 30:6.
 
              Several scholars believe Psalm 30 concerns the time David numbered the people of Israel and God punished them with a pestilence.  Before we get any further, let me caution you to read this in the 1 Chronicles 21 account and not just 2 Samuel 24.  You will get a much better portrait of David in Chronicles, one much more fitting a “man after God’s own heart.”
 
             But no matter when in David’s life this psalm was written, he tells us in verse 6 exactly what caused his problem.  In his prosperity he relied too much on himself.  Oh, he recognizes that his wealth and security came from God, v 7a, but he was so smug about it that God “hid His face.”  It was “my mountain,” not God’s, and if this is the time of the numbering, he was so full of himself that he sent Joab around not to take a full census, but to count “those who can wield a sword.”  He wanted to know how strong he was now that his foes were destroyed and his land was at peace, even though God told the people not to worry about such things, but to trust Him.  Even a man such as Joab knew that this numbering was not a good idea. 

              Here is what we as Americans steadfastly refuse to see, even Christians:  there is no temptation so great as prosperity.  Not just wealth, but security and peace along with it.  The scriptures are full of the warnings, but we heed them not.  What do we all want?  To get ahead.  What do we spend our lives doing?  Making money.  What do we dream about?  Being rich. 

              But hear this:  the New Testament does not speak of wealth in any way but as dangerous to our spiritual health. 

                Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth…For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  Matt 6:19,21.

              As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful, Matt 13:22.

              Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God, Matt 19:24.

              And he said to them, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions, Luke 12:15.

              But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils. It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs, 1 Tim 6:9,10.

              Why do we insist on standing in the rattlesnake’s nest?  I understand wanting your children to have more and better than you did, but I do not want their souls at risk, and from everything I see and read in the Book that really matters, that is what wealth will do to them.  If David can fall because of it, so can you and so can I and so can they.  Any time you feel secure in your wealth, in your preparations for the future or for “unforeseen circumstances,” be careful.  God may very well send you a reminder that you cannot count on anyone but Him, just as He did to David.  It may be the most painful reminder you ever get.
 
​​Do not toil to acquire wealth; be discerning enough to desist. When your eyes light on it, it is gone, for suddenly it sprouts wings, flying like an eagle toward heaven, Prov 23:4,5.
 
Dene Ward

Americans used to admire “the strong, silent type”—not someone who was uncommunicative, but someone who endured the hardships of life without complaint, a man who always kept a sane head on his shoulders when things got rough.  I don’t know what has happened, but nowadays strength seems to be measured by how loudly a man can rant and rave about his lot in life and anyone he can blame for it.
 
           Our culture has made whining a world class skill.  No, we do not call it whining, but that’s what it is.  We whine about our jobs, about our neighbors, about our families, about our health, about the government—they give all our hard-earned money to other people, but let them cut one of our entitlement programs and we whine even louder about that.  We whine about rising costs, about having to wait in line, about our lifestyles, about the driver in the car in front of us.  We whine about the church, about the singing, about the length of sermons, about the preacher, about the elders, and about how hot or cold the building always is.  Sometimes I feel like getting out Nathan’s violin and accompanying the dirge.  At least it would be easier on the ears—and I don’t even know how to play!

            Look at Numbers 11, the classic example of complaining in the Old Testament.  Every place it says weep, weeping, or wept, substitute whine, whining, or whined.  That is probably a perfect word for what was going on.  Look at Moses’ reaction in v 15.  Please allow me to paraphrase: “If this is the way it’s going to be, then do me a favor, Lord, and kill me.  I can’t take it any more.”  Why anyone would think that whining is a measure of strength is beyond me. 

            Whining impugns God’s goodness.  Think of all the things God does for us and gives to us, and still we whine.  Blessed is the man whom you choose and cause to approach unto you, that he may dwell in your courts.   How can we complain when we have that blessing?  We shall be satisfied with the goodness of your house, your holy Temple, Psa 65:4.  Because your lovingkindness is better than life, I will praise you.  So I will bless you while I live; I will lift up my hands in your name.  My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise you with joyful lips, Psa 63:3-5.  A far cry from whining, isn’t it?
            I may think that I am above the effects of my culture, that I am not influenced by the rampant materialism that often motivates this whining.  All I need to do is make a list of things I consider “necessities” to find out otherwise.  All I need to do is keep track of all the times I complain during the day to become thoroughly ashamed.  God destroyed those who whined against Moses.  Why will he accept my murmuring?  The poorest among us is wealthier than 90% of the rest of the world.  Imagine that.  And far beyond that, life is good, if for no other reason than I have a Savior.  In fact, do I need any other reason?
 
But even if you should suffer for righteousness’ sake, blessed are you; and fear not their fear, neither be troubled, but sanctify in your hearts Christ as Lord…1 Peter 3:14,15
Neither murmur as some of them murmured and perished by the Destroyer, 1 Cor 10:10
 
Dene Ward

One time when we kept our grandsons, twenty-month-old Judah usually climbed into my lap every evening as we sat at the table for a final cup of coffee.  It took me a minute the first time his little hand reached out in the air, but finally I realized he was trying to catch the steam wafting over my mug, and was completely mystified when it disappeared between his chubby little fingers.

              A lot of people spend their lives trying to catch the steam, vapors that seem solid but disintegrate in their grasping hands.  They do it in all sorts of ways, and all of them are useless. 

              Do they really think they can stop time?  Over 11,000,000 surgical and nonsurgical cosmetic procedures were performed in this country in 2013, and we aren’t talking medically necessary procedures.  The top five were liposuctions, breast augmentations, eyelid surgeries, tummy tucks, and nose surgeries.*

              Then there are the folks chasing wealth and security.  Didn’t the recent Great Recession, as it is now called, teach them anything?  Others are striving to make a name for themselves.  These are usually the same folks who tell Christians how pathetic we are to believe that some Higher Power would ever notice we even exist on this puny blue dot in the universe.  Yet there they all go looking for fame, fortune, notoriety, beauty, or even their version of eternal life.  All of it is nothing more than a dream.  It will disappear, if not in a natural disaster or an economic meltdown, then the day they die—and they will die no matter how hard they try not to.  They are the ones grasping at dreams which are only a vapor that disappears in a flash.

              Our dream isn’t a dream at all.  It is a hope, which in the Biblical sense means it is all but realized.  Sin and death have been conquered by a force we can only try to comprehend, by a love we can never repay, and by a will we can but do our best to imitate.  Yet there it is, not a wisp of white floating over a warm porcelain mug, but a solid foundation upon which we base our faith.  Heb 6:19 calls it “an anchor.”  Have you ever seen a real anchor?  If there is anything the opposite of a wisp of steam, that’s it—solid and strong, able to hold us steady in the worst winds of life.  Tell me how a pert nose and a full bank account can do that!

              The world thinks it knows what is real while we sit like a toddler grasping at steam.  When eternity comes, they will finally see that they are wrong.  Spiritual things are the only things that last, the only real things at all.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal, 2 Cor 4:6-8.

*Information from the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery

Dene Ward

We started out in a ten by fifty trailer we bought from another Florida College Bible student couple.  They had moved on to his first full time work.  The next year we did the same and passed the trailer on to yet another.

              That first move put us in a little shoebox of a house that the small Midwestern church supplied for us.  It was far superior to the trailer, even though it only had one bathroom and the third "bedroom" wouldn't even hold a double bed.  The huge pantry more than made up for those small inconveniences, especially since there were only the two of us anyway.

              Another move, another church, and we actually bought the only truly nice house we have ever lived in—a three bedroom, bath and a half, family room with fireplace, brick home on a half-acre lot full of climbing roses, irises, azaleas and dogwoods.  But it wasn't to last.

              Three years later we were on to another church.  This one owned a brand new 24 x 60 doublewide with a large built-on utility room.  It was plenty roomy, if flimsy, with thin walls, leaky pipes, and a low ceiling that made it so hot in the summer you wanted to just crawl through it, especially in the narrow kitchen.

              The next house I have written about before, just a few weeks ago, in fact (see 8/29/2019 in the archives).  That one may be the most memorable for the freezing temperatures—inside, not outside--and the faulty wiring that gradually ate up our appliances.

              But for the past almost thirty-eight years we have been in this house—another double wide, not as large as the previous one, but much better built, and carefully tended and mended by us.  We never really thought we would still be here, but God has a way of making plans that are different from yours.  Another thing I always thought was that someday I would have the nice home my mother and sister eventually had, and that it seems most of my friends did too—and the Lord laughed once again.  But let me tell you what I have learned about that.

              This little 1300 sq ft box was good enough to keep me and my family warm and dry, at least when there wasn't an active leak.  It was good enough to raise my boys in, and they were never too ashamed to bring their friends, even after one of the bathtubs developed a crack in the bottom and you had to straddle it while you showered so you wouldn't fall through to the ground underneath.  (Yes, we finally got it fixed.)

              It was large enough to take in several weary travelers whose car gave up the ghost in the wee hours one morning.  It was good enough to hold more than a few Bible studies in.  It was good enough to show hospitality to probably a hundred or more brothers and sisters, neighbors, family, coworkers, and friends over the years.  It was good enough to host a shower or two, a church small group meeting, singings, and several other meetings of various stripes.  It has been plenty good enough to counsel struggling souls many times.  It has even been good enough to share with complete strangers who needed a hot meal and a place to stay.

              None of my guests ever complained about the small accommodations, sometimes not even a room to themselves but an air mattress on the living room floor or a pillow and blanket on the sofa, and a shower as small as an old-fashioned phone booth—one Superman could not have even turned around in, much less changed clothes.  None of them complained about the meals—and they weren't all great, let me tell you, especially in the early days.  None of them acted like they were anything but satisfied with what we had to share. 
 
             So remember this:  It does not matter how little you have to offer.  It does not matter how small, how plain, how uncomfortable your house is.  We once ate a meal at the home of a church widow whose kitchen was so small that by the time we put the extensions in the table, we had to take turns going around it to our seats, and if anyone needed to get out, everyone had to stand up and move out first.  That sweet lady was not a bit embarrassed because she was so thrilled that someone would actually take her up on her offer of hospitality.  Maybe that has always been in the back of mind as I considered my duty as a hospitable hostess.  Sometimes we have to do some skillful maneuvering around my table too!

              All you really need is a place full of love, a spirit of generosity, and a warm welcome.  Whatever you have is enough to fulfill the command to serve others.  Don't excuse yourself because you think you don't have what it takes in physical comfort and wealth.  And don't judge others so shallowly either.  I bet they would be thrilled to take you up on your offer.
 
Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. (Heb 13:1-2).
 
Dene Ward