The Second Continental Congress met in May of 1775.  One of the many things that group accomplished was the forerunner of our current postal system.  It seemed obvious to everyone that there needed to be a reliable line of communication between the Congress and the armies.  Thus Benjamin Franklin was named the Postmaster General on July 25, 1775.  Since he was still serving at the Declaration of Independence in July 1776, he is considered the first Postmaster General of the United States of America.  The postal system may have changed some since his day, but we have come to take it for granted as we complain mightily about everything from costs to service.  But that system has meant a lot to me through the years.

           When we first moved over a thousand miles from my hometown, I eagerly awaited the mailman every day.  As the time approached, I learned to listen from any part of the house for that “Ca-chunk” when he lifted the metal lid on the black box hanging by the door and dropped it in.  Oh, what a lovely sound!
 
            My sister often wrote long letters and I returned the favor, letters we added onto for days like a diary before we sent them off.  My parents wrote, Keith’s parents wrote, both my grandmothers wrote, and a couple of friends as well.  It was a rare week I did not receive two or three letters.  This generation with their emails, cell phones, and instant messaging has no idea what they are missing, the joy a simple “clunk” can bring when you hear it.

              I was far from home, in a place so different I couldn’t always find what I needed at the grocery store.  Not only were the brands different—and to a cook from the Deep South, brands are important—but the food itself was odd.  It was forty years ago and the Food Network did not yet exist.  Food was far more regional. 

             The first time I asked for “turnips,” I was shown a bin of purple topped white roots.  In the South, “turnips” were the greens.  I asked for black-eye pea and cantaloupe seeds for my garden, and no one knew what they were.  I asked for summer squash and was handed a zucchini.  When I asked for dried black turtle beans—a staple in Tampa—they looked at me like I was surely making that one up.

             So a letter was special, a taste of home in what was almost “a foreign land,” especially to a young, unsophisticated Southern girl who had never seen snow, didn’t know the difference between a spring coat and a winter coat, and had never stepped out on an icy back step and slid all the way across it, clutching at a bag of garbage like it was a life line and praying the icy patch ended before the edge of the stoop.

            Maybe that’s how the Judahite exiles first felt when they got Jeremiah’s letter, but the feeling did not last.  They did not want to hear his message.  They were sure the tide would turn, that any day now God would rescue Jerusalem and send Nebuchadnezzar packing.  But that’s not what Jeremiah said.

            The letter…said: “Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare… For thus says the LORD: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. Jer 29:3-8, 10.

           You are going to be here seventy years, they were told.  Settle down and live your lives.  It took a lot to get these people turned around.  Ezekiel worked at it for years.  They may have been the best of what was left, but they were still unfaithful idolaters who needed to repent in order to become the righteous remnant.

            Which makes it even more remarkable that they had to be told to go about their lives, and especially to “seek the welfare of the city,” the capital of a pagan empire.  To them that was giving up on the city of God, the Promised Land, the house of God, the covenant, and even God Himself.  And it took years for Ezekiel to undo that mindset and make them fit to return in God’s time, not theirs.

           But us?  We have to be reminded that we don’t belong here.  We are exiles in a world of sin.  Yes, you have to live here, Paul says, but don’t live like the world does.  This is not your home.  Peter adds, Beloved, I beseech you as sojourners and pilgrims… 1Pet 2:11.  Too many times we act like this is the place we are headed for instead of merely passing through.

           How many times have I heard Bible classes pat themselves on the back:  “We would never be like those faithless people.”  But occasionally even they outdo us.
 
These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. Heb 11:13
 
Dene Ward

Not so very long ago, someone made a not-so-vague reference to this blog as being "cute stories about dogs" instead of spiritual lessons.  Well, I cannot deny that I occasionally tell cute stories about my dog, but sometimes I tell funny stories about my dog, or sad stories about my dog, or poignant stories about my dog, too.  And sometimes I tell stories about the birds at my feeders or the garden or the camping trips or the doctor appointments or a host of other everyday things.
 
             So yes, I do tell a lot of stories, but if people do not think I teach a spiritual lesson, they obviously quit reading before the end of each post.  If I cannot make a spiritual lesson, or at least a life lesson, I don't put it on this blog.  Anything else goes on my personal page, which might be every other week, counting blog links.

              But let's look for a minute at the teaching style of the greatest teacher who ever lived—Jesus.

              "A sower went forth to sow…"

              "A man planted a fig tree…"

              "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed…"

              "There was a man who had two sons…"

              "But that's in the Bible," you say.  Of course it is—now.  It was not a part of the scriptures Jesus and the people had when he spoke it.  I can just imagine someone saying about the parable of the sower, "What does that even mean?  Why doesn't that so-called rabbi use a story from the scriptures?" especially since the only people who ever got the interpretation were his disciples, later, when they were alone.

              And Jesus himself was just copying the prophets of the Old Testament.  He told a vineyard parable in Mark 12:1-12.  It was a little different from but closely akin to Isaiah's vineyard parable in Isa 5:1-7.  Close enough, in fact, that the priests, scribes and elders (Mark 11:27) realized he was comparing them to those faithless people God had sent into captivity.  And they were seeking to arrest him…for they perceived that he had told the parable against them (12:12).  Even those people, who eventually murdered our Lord, knew that parable from Isaiah, and recognized the power of stories in teaching.

              "But you aren't Jesus."  Of course not, but Peter tells us to follow in his footsteps, just as his disciples did.  The writers of the epistles may not have used full-blown stories but their writings are full of analogies from everyday life—about buildings, about boats, about athletes and soldiers, and a host of other things.

              And so, to be a disciple, too—to imitate Jesus--I tell stories about my garden ("A man planted a vineyard…").

              I tell stories about the birds outside my window ("Are not two sparrows sold for a penny").

              I tell stories about my children and grandchildren ("A man had two sons…").

              I tell stories about my doctor ("Those who are well have no need of a physician…").

              I tell stories about my flower beds ("Consider the lilies of the field…").

              I tell stories about cooking ("It is like leaven that a woman took and hid in three measures of flour").

              I do all those things--just like he did.

              And I do my best to never tell a story on this blog that I cannot make a spiritual lesson about.  You may not think it is much of a lesson, and indeed, sometimes it is small.  But you might be surprised how many times the lessons I thought the least valuable caused someone to write and tell me, "That is exactly what I needed today."  I'm so glad I was not too proud to post it when that happens.

              So let's be careful about our complaints, and a bit more tolerant when the preacher tells a story.  Or when the Bible class teacher begins class with an incident from his own life.  And let's be aware of the spiritual analogies we ourselves can make from our own lives, using them to learn and grow, thinking in an eternal way rather than a temporal, carnal manner.  I don't know about you, but I need all the lessons I can get to live as I should in a world full of sin.
The scriptures show us time and again teachers using everyday events to teach profound concepts.  Let's follow those "approved examples," as we tend to call them.  Above all, let us follow our Lord.
 
Then the disciples came and said to him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?”  And he answered them, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.​For to the one who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.  This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand.  Indeed, in their case the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled that says: “‘“You will indeed hear but never understand, and you will indeed see but never perceive.”  For this people's heart has grown dull, and with their ears they can barely hear, and their eyes they have closed, lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears and understand with their heart and turn, and I would heal them.  ’But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear.​For truly, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it. (Matt 13:10-17)
 
Dene Ward

Both of my grandsons loved the peek-a-boo game.  It didn't matter if I hid my face or their faces, smiles and laughter instantly ensued.  Judah especially disliked having his diapers changed, but I found out if I held his little feet up in front of my face and crooned, "Where's Grandma?" he would lie there perfectly content while I changed that diaper, moving his own little feet together and apart while we played the game.

              We all understand that a child's perspective is skewed by his inability to recognize any other perspective than his—in the peek-a-boo game, for instance, he thinks that if he cannot see you, then you cannot see him.  One mark of maturity is realizing that what someone else sees and hears in your words and actions is not necessarily what you intended, and that his own actions are largely dependent upon things in his life you may never have experienced.  Perspective is huge for a Christian.

              Paul told the Romans they needed to have the proper perspective about things in this life, or, as he might have called it, the proper mindset.  For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. (Rom 8:5).  Here he divides it into having a spiritual mindset or a fleshly mindset.

              He goes on to say:  For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.  For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot.  Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. (Rom 8:6-8).

          So let's make this easier to see by setting the two mindsets in opposition.  If you are a visual learner like I am, grab a sheet of paper and create two columns—the mind of the flesh on one side and the mind of the spirit on the other, as we go through those verses again.  Some of these things do not have an expressed opposite, but it is easy to see what that opposite should be.

              The mind of the flesh is death while the mind of the spirit is life and peace.  The mind of the flesh is hostile to God, so it makes sense that the mind of the spirit is friendly to God.  The mind of the flesh cannot submit, but the mind of the spirit will.  The mind of the flesh cannot please God, but the mind of the spirit will please him.  All of that is easy to see when you chart it out.

              So how do we go about telling which mind we have?  By the things that matter most to us.  Is it wealth, status, money, power, a life of ease and luxury?  Moses was willing to give up all those things.  By faith Moses, when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin.  He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward. (Heb 11:24-26)  This perfectly matches the "chart" in the previous paragraph.  Could I do that?  Could you?

              Let's just say this.  When the majority of my complaints about the church are the uncomfortable seats, the warm building, and the long sermons, then maybe my mindset is on the flesh, not the spirit.

              What would you be willing to give up for the Lord?  That doesn't just mean the big stuff, like your life.  That means the little things too—time for personal Bible study, prayer, and visiting; actually deciding to throw your favorite skirt out because you have come to realize it is too short for a godly woman to be wearing; missing a ball game because your neighbor is in distress and this might be an opportunity to reach him with the gospel.

              And what sort of difficult things would someone with a fleshly mindset find impossible to give up?  The praise of men; the humility of apology; being "right" in something that doesn't really matter; acceptance in the community; a good-paying job; an ungodly sexual relationship, just to name a few, and all with the reasoning, "God wouldn't want me to be unhappy."

              It's easy to play peek-a-boo like a child, thinking everything is about me and my pleasure.  But sooner or later we need to grow up.  The proper mindset will show me the true pleasure in serving God and looking to the good of others.  If I never learn that, I will always be nothing more than a baby with a blanket over my face, always blind to the truth of my situation and never able to fix it.
 
For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. (Gal 6:8)
 
Dene Ward

For the past few years wild blackberries have been rare.  The vines are there, full of their painful and aggravatingly sticky thorns, but the fruit dries up before it can fully ripen.  First the drought of the late 90’s, and then the following dry years of this regular weather cycle of wet and dry have meant that when the time is right, usually early to mid-June, there is nothing to pick. The few that might have survived are devoured quickly by the birds.
 
           This year Lucas found some on a nearby service road, and Keith picked enough for one cobbler for the first time in years.  Probably because it has been awhile, I think that was the best blackberry cobbler we ever had.  Maybe next year I can make jelly too.

            Blackberries are a lot of trouble.  The thorns seem like they reach out and grab you.  I have often come home with bloody hands and torn clothing—you never wear anything you might wear elsewhere when you pick blackberries.  But that is not the half of it.

            You must also spray yourself and your long-sleeved shirt prodigiously with an insect repellent, and tuck the cuffs of your long pants into your socks.  No matter how hot the weather, you must be covered.  Without these measures chiggers will find their way in and you will be revisiting your time in the woods far longer and in more unpleasant ways than you wish.  Ticks are also a problem.  Make sure you pick with someone you don’t mind checking you over after you get back home, especially your hair.  More than once I have had a tick crawl out of my mop of curls several hours later. 

            Finally, you must always carry a big stick or a pistol.  I prefer pistols because you don’t have to get quite as close to the snake to kill it.  Birds love blackberries, and snakes like birds, so they often sit coiled under the canes waiting for their meals to fly in.  Keith has killed more than one rattlesnake while picking wild blackberries.

            Because of all this, since I have Keith, I seldom pick blackberries any more—I let him do it for both of us.  Especially since I stand for hours in a hot kitchen afterward, it seems a fair division of labor.  When I am making jelly, straining that hot juice through cheesecloth to catch the plenteous seeds and ladling that hot syrupy liquid into hot jars isn’t much easier than picking them.  But wild blackberries are worth all the trouble.  Their scent is sweet and heady and their taste, especially in homemade jellies, almost exotic. The purple hands, teeth, and tongue blackberry lovers wind up with are worth it too.   If all you have ever had is commercially grown blackberries and store bought blackberry jelly, you really don’t know what they taste like.     

            Why is it that I can make myself go to all this trouble for something good to eat, and then throw away something far more valuable because “it’s not worth it?”  Why does teasing my taste buds matter more to me than saving my soul?  How many spiritual delicacies have I missed out on because it wasn’t worth the trouble? 

            Serious Bible study can be tedious, but isn’t having the Word of God coming instantly to mind when I really need it worth it?  When I have taken the time to explore deeply instead of the superficial knowledge most have, isn’t it great in the middle of a sermon or Bible class, to suddenly have another passage spring to life right before my mental eyes?  “So that’s what that means!” is a eureka moment that is nearly incomparable.  And while increased knowledge does not necessarily mean increased faith, faith without knowledge is a sham.  Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the word of God, Rom 10:17.  The more scripture you know, the stronger your faith because the more you know about what God has done for us, the more you appreciate it and want to show that appreciation by the service you willingly give.

            So many other things we miss out on because we don’t want to go to the trouble—cultivating an active prayer life, socializing with brothers and sisters in the faith, helping a new Christian grow, serving the community we live in simply because we care--while at the same time we go to all sorts of trouble for earthly pleasures—sitting in the hot sun on a hard bench amid crude, rowdy people to watch a ball game; searching for a parking space for hours then walking ten blocks in high heels for a favorite meal at a downtown restaurant; standing in long lines at an amusement park, while someone else’s ice cream melts on your shirt, and at the same time juggling your own handfuls of fast food, cameras, and tickets, and trying to keep up with rambunctious children.  All these things are “worth it.” Did you ever ask yourself, “Worth what?”  And how long did that pleasure, or whatever your answer is, last?

            I would never go to the same amount of trouble for rhubarb that I do for blackberries.  That doesn’t mean I don’t like rhubarb—I make a pretty good strawberry rhubarb cobbler.  But rhubarb cannot match blackberries. Spiritually, we too often settle for rhubarb instead of blackberries. You can always tell the ones who don’t “settle”—the “purple” fingers from handling the Word of God, and the “purple” teeth and tongues from taking it in on a daily basis and living a life as His servant, give them away.
 
As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life, 1 Tim 6:17-19..
 
Dene ward
 

My largest flower bed, a couple of hundred square feet, is about 75% volunteers.  Every year I plant a couple of new things, but by and large the plot reseeds itself with black-eyed Susans, zinnias, marigolds, and Mexican petunias.  Instead of planned formality it becomes a riot of color—orange, red, rust, pink, burgundy, purple, white, and tons of yellow.  About the first of June it is at its best, and has even been featured in the photos of friends and family.

              The black-eyed Susans have a way of coming up just about anywhere—in the field, in the yard, up by the gate, around the bird feeders.  I never know where one will shoot up during any given spring. A shallow ditch runs along the west side of my large riotous flower bed.  This year that ditch was full of black-eyed Susans—even more than in the bed.

              As the spring progressed, that ditch also became full of weeds and grass.  I spent over an hour one morning cleaning it out.  Along with it went some of those pretty, brown-centered, yellow flowers.  I thought about it long and hard, but I knew this:  those weeds would just get more and more entrenched and eventually choke out the flowers anyway.  And even if they didn’t, the flowers would just call attention to the tall grass around them, and all anyone would think would be, “Ugh.”  So I transplanted what I could back into the bed, hoping they would survive the rough treatment of having grass roots pulled out from among their own, and then just chopped out the rest along with all the weeds.  It’s not like I didn’t have a plethora of them anyway.  They are all over the property.

              Which brings me to this:  what we often think of as beauty can be completely overwhelmed by ugliness.  Why can’t our young men see that a beautiful young girl is anything but beautiful when she acts like a trollop and dresses like a harlot?  Why can’t a young woman see that a handsome young man spoils those good looks with the filthy words that come out of his mouth and the intemperate behavior of a drunk, or a lecher, or anything else he allows to control his life?  Why don’t they understand that if they are only attracted by outward beauty, their values are as shallow as a drop of water on a hot griddle, and just as likely to evaporate?  Maybe because we haven’t taught them any better.

              Many years ago I stood in the receiving line at a wedding and heard a few feet away a woman who claimed to be a Christian saying, “He’s such a good looking young man.  It’s a shame he couldn’t find someone prettier.”  Never mind the young bride in question had a beautiful and loving character, she wasn’t pretty enough on the outside.

              I have heard women getting excited over a new dress or a new pair of shoes and then bored about a conversion.  I have seen men eagerly discussing cars or guns or sports, and turning away in apathy at a spiritual discussion.  I have seen people happy to discuss their misfortunes to anyone who will listen, while ignoring their blessings.  Do you think our children don’t see these examples?

              We teach them what to care most about, and they follow our examples all through their lives.  If I want my child to develop a deep relationship with God, then it’s time I had one myself.

              Tell your children what true beauty is, and then show them.  Make yourself beautiful with your good works, with your kind demeanor, with your loving spirit.  If you don’t, they may never learn what constitutes true beauty until they are mired in a horrible relationship that eventually ruins their lives.  The flowers in the ditch may be beautiful, but is that really where you want them to spend their lives?
             
Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman with no discretion, Prov 11:22.
 
Dene Ward

Every Sunday afternoon I go through those colorful inserts in the Sunday paper and cut out coupons.  We don’t use much processed food beyond condiments and cereals, so I seldom clip the “hundreds of dollars worth” they brag about, but it’s always enough to pay for the paper and pull my shopping trip under budget, sometimes as much as 20%, so it’s well worth the effort.
 
             I regularly shake my head at a lot of the products I see these days.  Convenience foods have turned us into helpless klutzes in the kitchen.  Even at out of season prices I can buy a large fresh bell pepper and chop it myself into well more than a cupful for about $1, OR I can buy a measly half cup already chopped for $3 and save myself a whopping 2 minutes of chopping time at six times the cost.  Wow, she muttered, unimpressed.

              Then there is the “fun factor.”  For some reason we always need to be entertained.  As I flipped through those coupons last week, I came across a full page ad for a new cereal—“Poppin’ Pebbles,” which, I am told, offer “big berry flavor with a fantastic fizz.”  Evidently these out-fun the snap, crackle, pop of the old Rice Krispies I grew up with, judging by the amazed look on the child model’s face, her hands splayed over her cheeks in wonderment.  Now, I guess, our meals must entertain us before they are worthy to be eaten.

              Don’t think for a minute that this doesn’t reflect our spiritual attitudes.  “I can hardly listen to that man,” a sister told me once of a brother’s teaching ability.  The brother in question had one of the finest Bible minds I ever heard and regularly took a passage I thought I knew inside out and showed me something new in it, usually far deeper than its standard interpretation, one that kept me thinking for days afterward.  So what was the problem?  He didn’t tell jokes, he didn’t share cute stories or warm, fuzzy poetry.  He just talked and you had to do your part and listen—and THINK!

              Do you think they didn’t have those problems in the first century?  Pagan religion was exciting.  The fire, the spectacle, the pounding rhythms, the garish costumes, not to mention the appeal to sensuality, made it far more appealing to the masses than a quiet service of reverent, joyful a capella singing, prayers, and a simple supper memorializing a sacrifice.

              Some of those long ago brethren must have tried to bring in the fun factor.  When it came to spiritual gifts, they weren’t satisfied unless they could have the flashy ones.  The whole discussion in 1 Corinthians 12 begins with a group who thinks that their gift is the best because of that.  They have to be reminded that they all receive those gifts from the same source “as the Spirit wills” not as they will—it has nothing to do with one being better, or more necessary, than the other, or one brother being more important.

              They wanted to jazz up their services every chance they got, even speaking in tongues when an interpreter was not present.  Paul had to tell them to stop, to “be silent.”  It is not about entertainment and glory, he said, it’s about edification (1 Cor 14:26). 

              What did Paul call these people who wanted flash and show, who wanted entertainment?  In verse 14:20 he says that such behavior is childish.  In 3:1 he calls them carnal and equates that with spiritual immaturity.  Did you notice that breakfast cereal ad I mentioned is directed squarely at children?  It is assumed that when you grow up you don’t need such motivation to do what’s good for you, like eat your whole grains, and God assumes that as spiritual adults we will understand the importance of spiritual things. 

              And what about the friends we try to reach?  Do we pander to their baser instincts then expect to create an appreciation for intense Bible study, an ability to stand up to temptation, and a joyful acceptance of persecution?  When it’s no longer fun all the time, when it’s hard work and sacrifice, will they quit?

              People who want to be entertained are the same ones who want a physical kingdom here on this earth instead of the spiritual one that “is within you,” that is “not of this world.”  They are the ones who want a comedian for a preacher instead of a man of God who will teach the Word of God plainly and simply.  They want a singing group they can tap their toes to instead of songs they can sing from the heart with others who may be just as tone-deaf as they are.  Read the context.  “Singing with the spirit” is not about clapping your hands and stomping your feet to the rhythm.  It’s about teaching and growing spiritually.

              Being a Christian is always joyful, but when I believe that joy is always predicated on entertainment, I am no better than Herod who wanted Jesus to entertain him just hours before his crucifixion.  I am no better than the former pagans who tried to bring flashy rituals into the spiritual body of Christ.  I am no better than a child who needs coddling in order to behave himself. 

              Imagine what might have happened if Jesus had needed to be entertained in order to save us.
 
For it is a rebellious people, lying children, children that will not hear the law of Jehovah; that say to the seers, See not; and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto us right things, speak unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits…And for this cause God sends them a working of error, that they should believe a lie: that they all might be judged who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.  Isa 30:10,11; 2 Thes 2:11,12.
 
Dene Ward

On perspective:
"All of us interpret our encounters in life through a mental perspective colored by our own preconceptions; it is important that these preconceptions be constantly corrected by the Word of God, the Spirit of God, and the testimony of his works…Begin with a false premise, and with all the right facts and correct logic, we can still come to a wrong conclusion for all the right reasons!  God wants to correct and lift our spiritual vision so that we can see all life his way."  W. E. Pratney, The Nature and Character of God.

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. (2Cor 4:16-18)

Winter in North Florida brings a mixed bag.  We have warm temperatures, cool temperatures, and downright frigid temperatures.  We have dry fronts and wet fronts.  We have rain, sleet, flurries, and even enough snow to stick for a day—once every twenty or thirty years. One year we had a winter storm with 100 mph winds, several inches of rain, a freeze, and power outages for a couple of days.  All in Florida, "The Sunshine State." 

In the past two weeks we have had flood watches, wind advisories, and both frost and freeze warnings.  In the country we watch those things more than the city folks do.  Most of us have a fall/winter garden that might need covering, a well that needs to stay warm enough to run, and hoses and pipes "in the open."  And power is iffy, even on the sunniest of days.  All it takes is some lineman to sneeze for us to lose it for a few hours.  So we keep up with those advisories.

We will do that for this physical, temporal world.  Will we keep up with advisories for our souls?  The scriptures warn us again and again that the Devil is out there like a lion "seeking whom he may devour" (1 Peter 5:8).  He has tricks up his sleeve (2 Cor 2:11).  He sends out his own helpers disguised as "ministers of righteousness" (2 Cor 11:15).

We are told again and again, "Be sober," "Be watchful," "Be alert," "Be on guard,"  "Be vigilant."  How many times do we ignore those sin advisories and just let the Devil waltz on into our lives unchallenged?

A lot of people in Florida have tried to ignore hurricane warnings, treating them like a big joke.  Many of them have learned better the hard way.  Are we doing the same thing with our souls?
 
Give no opportunity to the Devil. Eph 4:27
 
Dene Ward

We have recently discovered phoebes on our property, seven inch gray birds with light olive bellies and a slightly darker head.  Even though we have been birding for twelve years now, this is the first we have seen of these.  Being insect eaters, seed-filled feeders hold no interest for them, so I have never seen one from my chair by the window.  They are strictly carnivores.

              Their behavior is what gives them away—their “hawking.”  They sit on a bare tree branch and watch the ground below.  When a bug catches their eye, they swoop down for the kill, then fly right back to the same branch, and wait for another.  Sort of bloodthirsty for such a cute little bird.

              They have been using the trees on the edge of the garden, a place where insects abound and we are happy to have their help ridding the plants of them.  Now we have a much smaller fall garden, a few peppers and tomatoes, and the cooler temperatures mean fewer bugs.  Maybe that is why they have moved in closer, sitting atop tomato posts, waiting for their prey to creep by.

              And last week we saw yet another new bug eater.  Keith planted about 70% of the garden in sorghum.  The huge seed heads on these plants attract both wildlife and birds.  That was his main intention—to help feed the seed-eating birds and perhaps attract even more to the feeders closer to the house.  That sorghum patch is where we saw the new bird, a five inch olive green bird, with a yellow throat, a black mask, and a long thin beak.  My bird books tell us he is a yellowthroat, one of the many varieties of warbler.  He, too, practices hawking and being smaller and lighter he can perch on the head of those thin-stemmed sorghum plants without bending them over.  He is not there for the seeds but, like the phoebes, to watch for any bugs that crawl by.  Sometimes he is lucky and one will be deeply imbedded in the seed head itself.  All he has to do is lean over and probe with that long thin beak deep between those seeds.  Lunch, without even having to dive for it.

              That is not why we planted sorghum.  It is not why we put posts by the tomatoes.  Yet right now, the phoebes and the yellowthroats are getting more out of the garden than we are.

              Sometimes Satan gets more use out of the good things we try to do than God does.  How many times has a healthy pastime become more important to us than our spiritual health?  I’ve seen women so concerned about their figures that they would no longer offer or accept meal invitations from other Christians, nor cook and take a meal to the needy.  I’ve seen Christian men spend more time toning up their physical muscles than studying to tone up their spiritual ones.  They won’t miss a work-out, but personal Bible study is a sometime thing.

              How many times has the job which was meant to support the family become an all-consuming career that robbed a home of involved parents or a spouse of a supposedly committed and devoted mate?  How many times has the money earned led to greed instead of generosity, and a dependence upon self rather than God?

              Just because something is not inherently sinful, doesn’t mean evil cannot come from it.  Just because you intend good from it, doesn’t mean the Devil can’t find a way to produce the opposite.

              One thing about those phoebes and yellowthroats—they make an excellent example of careful watching; their lives depend upon it.  Take a moment today to sit still and quiet and really look at the things in your life and what they are producing.  Your spiritual life depends upon it.
 
His beautiful ornament they used for pride, and they made their abominable images and their detestable things of it. Therefore I make it an unclean thing to them, Ezek 7:20.
 
Dene Ward

Twenty 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