I don’t know how many times I have had someone tell me that my other senses will all improve once I am completely blind.  I just smile and tell them I appreciate their concern.  It is the grateful, loving thing to do, while jumping down their throats and biting their heads off with a sharp retort certainly isn’t.  If they didn’t care so much they wouldn’t try to be helpful and I am just as responsible for my words as they are for theirs.

              As to that comment, it is just a myth.  It isn’t that suddenly your hearing will improve when you can no longer see.  It’s that suddenly you use it to better advantage.  When you could see who was approaching you, you didn’t need to hear the door open, judge the weight of the steps and length of the stride, and determine whose voice it was.  Now you must, so you do.  Even still sighted, I have always seen more than Keith has.  When you have poor vision, you concentrate harder and take care to notice more.  I see signs he never does.  I notice the color of cars and houses.  I know two oak trees flank a driveway, not just one, and I remember that when we go back to someone’s home the second time.  He just looks for the address, numbers I can never see from the car.

              All of that made me wonder about our spiritual senses.  Did you know you can find all five mentioned in a figurative context in the Bible?

              Jesus had a lot to say about people who are spiritually blind.  For judgment came I into this world, that they that see not may see; and that they that see may become blind. Those of the Pharisees who were with him heard these things, and said unto him, Are we also blind? Jesus said unto them, If you were blind, you would have no sin: but now you say, We see: your sin remains, John 9:39-41. 
 
             The prophets also talk about spiritual blindness.  It isn’t just that some people cannot comprehend God’s word—they blind themselves to it when they do not want to see what it says.  Peter also mentions people who are spiritually near-sighted in 2 Pet 1:9.  You can find more passages about spiritual blindness than any of the other senses, and they should scare us all to death.  Be careful when, in a spiritual discussion, you find yourself uttering the words, “I just can’t see that.”  It may be that you have become spiritually blind.

              You could make a similarly long list of passages commanding us to “hear,” “listen,” “hearken,” and “take heed.”  Jesus said in the context of the parable of the sower, “Take heed what you hear,” and also, “Take heed HOW you hear.” 

              Just as some are “hard of hearing” physically, the prophets and preachers dealt with those who were hard of hearing spiritually.  Jeremiah and Ezekiel both were told to go preach to a people who would “refuse to hear.”  Do you think it cannot happen to us?  The Hebrew writer warns, “See that you do not refuse him who speaks,” 12:25, and Paul warns of those who have “itching ears.”  Keith has special medicine for exactly that thing.  Too bad it doesn’t work on the spiritually deaf as well.

              Do you think you can’t have a spiritual problem with your nose?  For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? 2 Corinthians 2:15-16.  The point is exactly the same—if you don’t like what becoming a follower of Christ means, it will stink to you, but to those who understand, who comprehend, who hear and see the true nature of things, he will smell wonderful.

              The Hebrew writer talks about those who have “tasted the heavenly gift…and the goodness of the word of God” 6:4,5.  If you don’t know people who think the Bible is anything but good, who believe that it is, in fact, the source of human misery, you haven’t tried too hard to spread it.  Always there are some who take a taste and spit it out with disgust—the same people who cannot see, cannot hear, and cannot smell the sweet aroma of Christ.

              And always there are those who cannot feel, whose hearts will never be pricked by the gospel, who are numb to its appeals.  Paul told the Athenians at the Areopagus, And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, Acts 17:26-27.  Not many of those people groped their way to the Lord in the end, but a few did.

              Did you notice something about all those spiritual senses?  When a physical sense leaves you, you learn to make better use of the ones that remain.  Unfortunately, when a spiritual sense leaves, the rest seem to follow suit.  If you won’t see, then you won’t hear.  You won’t let the grace of God touch your heart.  You won’t enjoy the smell of his sacrifice nor the taste of his love--if you have tasted that the Lord is gracious, 1 Pet 2:3.

              Can you imagine a more miserable existence than never seeing a sunset, never hearing the sweet coo of a baby, never tasting a ripe strawberry, never smelling the yeasty aroma of bread fresh from the oven, or never feeling the warm sun on your back?  That’s exactly the kind of lives people live when their spiritual senses don’t work.  But you can fix them all with one easy cure—heal your heart.  God told Ezekiel that if the people repented he would give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:26.  Once your heart can be touched, the other senses will come flooding back into your life, almost overwhelming you with new sensations.

              The five physical senses are a wonderful blessing from God.  The spiritual ones are even better.
 
In that day the deaf shall hear the words of a book, and out of their gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind shall see. The meek shall obtain fresh joy in the LORD, and the poor among mankind shall exult in the Holy One of Israel. Isaiah 29:18-19.
 
Dene Ward

Most of the time people assume that because I am not in the middle of a crisis, everything is fine with these eyes of mine.  It is difficult to understand that they are surviving on “borrowed time,” that they have outlived the prognosticators, and that any day could be the beginning of the end for my vision.

              Occasionally someone still asks about the things I have been through, and I still answer them without thinking--until they begin to shudder, and I take pity and stop.  One experience in particular makes people shrink about half their size as their shoulders draw in and their chins drop to their chests with a groan.  Even the everyday isn’t pleasant.  Eye drops are some of the most painful medications in existence, and an evening headache is par for the course.

              “Is it worth it?” some asked.  In fact, one person tried to talk me out of any more surgeries.

              Is it worth it?  I began all these procedures before either of my grandsons was born.  Without them, I would never have seen those sweet, tiny faces.  Was it worth the pain and the terror I sometimes felt right before yet another sharp instrument or harsh chemical headed for my eyeballs?  Do I even need to answer that? My doctor thinks I am strong.  No—I was a grandmother in prospect, and a stubborn one at that.

              Some people obviously do not think the Lord is worth any sort of pain at all.  They give up when it gets difficult, and “difficult” can just mean they have problems with relationships, or they must give up activities they enjoy.  They have yet to encounter physical pain; the emotional pain was all it took.

              Keith and I have received threats in the mail, threats that the FBI took seriously enough to send an investigator to look into.  We have endured gossip and slander that spread a couple hundred miles.  We came within two days of being homeless because of, as Paul called them, “false brethren.”  Was it worth it? 

              As we enter old age, looking to the end is no longer a distant view, and that makes it comforting to know that we have a reward waiting for us precisely because we endured those things.  We have yet to face physical torture, and though I no longer consider that an impossibility in this country, I doubt it will reach that point before we are gone.  To have put up with any sort of pain for the Lord, emotional or otherwise, is a blessing.  Finally I understand how the disciples could “count it all joy” to give up or endure something for the Lord who gave up all for us, even if that something is trivial comparatively speaking.

              Was it worth it?  Yes, Heaven is worth it all, but gratitude should ultimately reach the point that merely being able to sacrifice for the Lord is worth even more.  True spiritual maturity revels in seeing our Lord and Savior, not in seeing Paradise; in the ability to serve a God we can see before us, not in being pain- and worry-free forever; in being beside the Father who loves us, not in enjoying one giant eternal party.

              Sometimes going through pain in life, pain that has nothing to do with your Christianity, opens your eyes to spiritual things.  Was that physical pain worth it?  Did it give you a longer life?  A better quality of life?  Did it give you more time with your loved ones?  Usually that is enough to make it “worth it.”  Now ask yourself, what can you make it through for the Lord?  Will it be worth it?  God has the ability to make it so, but only you can make the decision to endure.
 
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or an evildoer or as a meddler. Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name. 1 Peter 4:12-16
             
Dene Ward

But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing. (Jas 1:22-25)

              How many times has the above passage been used in sermons and articles?  I think I have even used it myself, at least once if not more on this blog.  We must constantly look at ourselves in the mirror of God's word and then we will see all of our faults and be able to fix them, right?  I recently had an experience that made me stop and rethink all of that.

              We had the privilege of keeping our grandsons for a while, and had taken them to their favorite eating joint.  Silas sat across from me in the booth and we were discussing school or piano or something of the sort.  He leaned down to get a sip of his soda then looked right at me and said, "Grandma?"

              "Yes?" I encouraged.

            "You have two different eyes, don't you?  One big eye and one little eye."
 
             It took a minute for me to realize what he meant.  So then I explained that I had very sick eyes (which is exactly what one doctor called them), and that the "little eye" had needed so many surgeries that I couldn't hold it open as well as I could the other one.  He was perfectly satisfied with the explanation and we went on to talk about other things.

              That night I looked in the mirror, wondering where was this "little eye" that he saw.  I had never noticed that much difference.  That's when I realized that every time I looked in the mirror I only looked at the other eye.  It has had surgeries too, and it is also "sick," but it has not been medically abused as much as the other.  When I made myself look at both eyes I was actually startled.  Since I always focus on the other eye, I had never really noticed exactly how different the two eyes look.

              Don't you suppose the same thing can happen when we look in the mirror James spoke about?    Simply looking in the mirror is not enough when we only look at the good we do and refuse to look at the very sick parts of our souls, the parts that really need spiritual medicine.

              So here is today's challenge:  don't just look at the big eye; focus on the little one, the one you really need to see.  I can't fix my "little eye," but you can fix yours right up, if you are brave enough to really look at it and honest enough to change.
 
How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother's eye. (Luke 6:42)
 
Dene Ward

On March 13, 2014, Walter Williams, a seventy-eight year old Mississippi farmer, died.  It was the second time.  On February 27, he had been declared dead when neither the coroner nor attending nurses could find a pulse.  He was declared dead and transported to the funeral home.  While workers prepared to embalm him, he suddenly began kicking in the body bag.  An ambulance was called and he was taken to the hospital.  He survived another two weeks before death finally claimed him.  What happened to this man is sometimes the stuff of my nightmares.

             Beta blockers are wonderful things if you have high blood pressure.  They block the effects of the hormone epinephrine, which we usually call adrenaline.  In doing so they lower both your pulse and your blood pressure and open the blood vessels allowing blood to flow more easily, at least that is what the Mayo Clinic website tells me.

              I do not have high blood pressure.  I do have narrow angle glaucoma, complicated by severe nanophthalmus and a handful of other things, so I take four eye medications, several of which contain beta blockers to help lower eye pressure.  So, because my blood pressure is not high, it is now very low, as is my pulse.  High these days is 100/70 and it often runs 90/60 with an accompanying pulse no higher than 60—and that’s when I am excited.  It usually runs much lower than that.  In my recent bout with kidney stones, the alarm they hooked me up to in the ER kept going off because my pulse kept dropping to 40.  Even experienced nurses have difficulty finding my pulse and it often takes two or three tries to get any blood pressure reading.  I told Keith a few weeks ago, if I ever pass out, please make sure they call an ambulance instead of the coroner’s van.

              Needless to say, I do not have much energy these days.  I wear out quickly and my vision begins to fade.  Doing anything in the evening when the usual weariness of the day compounds the problem is a major ordeal.  But do I mind?  Not on your life—I can still see well enough to function, something no one would have predicted 20 years ago.  But I do have to fight exhaustion constantly.

              Sometimes our spiritual vital signs sound an alarm to the people around us.  We may not notice, but they can see the flagging interest and sagging strength.  So I wondered what sort of spiritual beta-blockers we ought to be looking out for.

              The biggest may be distractions in our lives.  It is possible to be too busy—not with sinful things, but completely neutral things, maybe even good things.  Work, entertainment, exercise, travel, sports, the hours we spend on social media and keeping our eyes glued to a screen of some sort all rob us of time we could be spending on thoughtful meditation or  becoming more familiar with God’s word.  Shame on us, we do it to our children too, and often as yet another status symbol.  We enroll them in everything possible and rob them of their childhood by running them back and forth and driving them literally to exhaustion—not to mention the pressure on them to succeed in every single one of these activities.  Do children even know how to play anymore?  I remember having voice students nearly fall asleep standing up!

              Failure to communicate with God may be one of the biggest spiritual beta blockers.  How can we expect to know Him, to know how to please Him, to know why we should want to please Him, to know the direction He wants us to take when we ignore His Word and never speak to Him except at meals—if He’s lucky!  Of course our faith will weaken—our faith is in a Who not a what, and knowing that Who is absolutely necessary to keep from losing it.

              This one may sound a little strange, but bear with me.  Sometimes our busyness is not a busyness in worldly endeavors, it’s a busyness in good works, and even that busyness can weaken us. 

              In Twelve Extraordinary Women John MacArthur says, “It is a danger, even for people who love Christ, that we not become so concerned with doing things for Him that we begin to neglect hearing Him and remembering what He has done for us.  We must never allow our service for Christ to crowd out our worship of Him.  The moment our works become more important than our worship we have turned the true spiritual priorities on their heads…Whenever you elevate good deeds over sound doctrine and true worship, you ruin the works too.  Doing good works for the works’ sake has a tendency to exalt self and depreciate the work of Christ.  Good deeds, human charity, and acts of kindness are crucial expressions of real faith, but they must flow from a true reliance on God’s redemption and His righteousness…Observe any form of religion where good works are ranked as more important than authentic faith or sound doctrine and you’ll discover a system the denigrates Christ while unduly magnifying self.” 

              I have seen people literally work themselves to death for others, visiting, carrying food, taking the elderly to the doctor, cleaning houses and doing yard work and then when their lives take a tragic turn, fall completely apart.  In all their “doing” they had neglected to shore up their own faith with time for prayer, personal Bible study, and taking a real interest in the studies offered during the usual assembly times or extras on the side.  Their lack of theological understanding left them floundering for answers they had never taken the time to look for and learn, and then when they needed them, they had nothing to lean on.

              And so in all these cases, the blood pressure plummets and the pulse fades and soon they may be gone.  I am sure you can think of other spiritual beta blockers.  Today, for your own good, look for them in your life.  How long has it been since you gave yourself a good shot of spiritual adrenaline—zeal? 

            If you suffered a spiritual collapse, should we call an ambulance or a hearse?
 
…“Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Eph 5:14-16
 
Dene Ward

I had sat there for hours like I always do, occasionally undergoing a test or other procedure, waiting for the doctor to finally reach my chart, along with a dozen or more other patients who also sit for hours every time we go to the Eye Clinic at the University of Florida School of Medicine.  But this time was different.

              An older woman and her husband sat next to me.  As often happens, we began to talk, usually about how long we have been waiting, the longest we have ever had to wait, and the various distances we all travel to see this world renowned, and incredibly skillful doctor we share.  Then she said four words, “I have a shunt,” and everything changed.

              My head whirled around, riveted to her face and especially her eyes.  “You do?”

              “Yes, two actually.”

              “I have one, too,” I said, excitement creeping into my voice.

              Her eyes instantly lit up.  “You do?” and there followed an hour of, “Do you have trouble with depth perception?  Do you see circles?  Does it ache?”  One question followed another, both of us nodding to one another and saying, “Yes, yes. Me too!”

              Finally someone understands, finally someone knows how I feel (both of us were thinking). 

              Someone understands how odd your vision can be; how colors have changed, how light “gets in the way;” how you can’t tell when a curb is a step up or step down or any step at all; how riding in the passenger seat makes vehicles in front of you look much closer; how many strange things can go wrong with an eyeball after what seems to the world like an easy surgery—why, you didn’t even have to stay in the hospital so how could it be serious? Someone else understands how much pain eye drops can cause, and how all those beta blockers can wreak havoc with your stamina; how careful you have to be when doing something as simple as wiping your eye because of all the hardware inside and on top of it; how inappropriate the remark, “I hope you get better soon,” is because there is no hope for better, just a hope that it will not get worse too soon; and someone else knows the feeling that any day could be the day that it all blows up.

              We sat there talking like close personal friends.  Occasionally she looked over at her husband and said, “You see?  I’m not crazy after all,” and he nodded, a bit patronizingly I thought, but we had developed such a quick and strong bond that perhaps I was just feeling protective.

              We were both called to separate exam rooms but when I left, I waved across the hall and wished her well.  I never got her name, nor she mine.  Strange, I guess, but we never felt the need to ask personal questions—we felt like we had known one another for years, and all because we felt the kinship of understanding what each of us was experiencing when no one else did.

              No matter what you are going through today, you have a friend just like that.  God emptied Himself to become a man and experience what you experience, feel what you feel, and suffer what you suffer.  He did that precisely so He could understand.  I always knew that, but now I really know how quickly a bond can form simply because of that shared experience. 

              But what if I had never responded to the woman’s simple statement about a shunt?  What if I had just sat there and done nothing?  That bond would never have formed.  It takes a response to the offer to gain the reward.  It takes a willingness to open up and share with the Lord the things you are feeling.  Yes, He already knows, but you will never feel the closeness of that bond until you share with Him as well.

              That day it felt like I had found, not a new friend, but a long, lost friend from the past.  When it happens that fast, it can’t be a complete stranger, can it?  Why don’t you turn around and talk to the Man next to you today and find out for yourself?
 
Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery…Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted, Heb 2:14-18.
 
Dene Ward
 

When you have sat in the offices of doctors ranked in the top five worldwide in their fields, you often see some very sick or horribly injured people.  When they call the top gun out of surgery to look at you, or three of them squeeze you into their schedules at a moment’s notice, each running the same tests over and over, then staying late to discuss your case, you become more than a little frightened.  When two doctors have presented you at half a dozen medical conferences and another is writing a paper about your case for a journal, you are grateful not only for getting this far, but for every morning the light seeps through the blinds and you can see it.

When you need a specialist of that caliber you learn words with entirely too many syllables, and you enjoy instant name recognition at the clinic with a direct line to the doctor.  You find out just exactly what horrible things they can do to you while you are awake and still live to tell about it.  Once they put you to sleep, you really don’t want to know too much about what they are doing.  And you discover that no matter how tough your situation is, someone else always has it worse.

There is one disease we all suffer from, no matter how beautiful, how wealthy, how popular, how healthy we are; no matter how many times we manage to twist events so it looks like we are always right; no matter how many times we pat ourselves on the backs for keeping all the “rules;” no matter how many we visit or homeless we feed.  Sin has infected us all and only one Specialist has the medicine we need.

This is a time of year when we customarily take a moment to examine ourselves and try to become better people.  Take that time today to check your vitals, to honestly assess whether you need to see the Doctor.  The good news is that there is a 100% cure rate for those who take their medicine and alter their lifestyles as He orders.  You do not need insurance because His fee is more than reasonable—it’s free.  The same is true for those affected by a relapse-even a second or third—or hundredth.

As amazing as it sounds, not everyone takes advantage of His care.  Perhaps they do not understand that this is a terminal disease.  Maybe it’s denial, maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s sheer perversity.  Whatever it is, do not let it describe you.
 
As I live, says the Lord Jehovah, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn, turn from your evil ways; for why will you die, O house of Israel? Ezek 33:11.
 
Dene Ward

Getting old is the pits or, as is popular to say among my friends, it isn’t for wimps. 

              I remember when I used to run 30 miles a week and exercise another 5 hours besides.  I lifted light weights and did aerobics and the standard floor exercises for abs and glutes and those floppy chicken wings on the back of your arms—triceps, I think they’re called.  I didn’t like the notion of waving hello to the people in front of me and having those things wave goodbye to the people behind me at the same time.

              Now, due to doctor’s orders, I have to limit how much I pick up, how long I bend over, and how much and how strenuous the activity I participate in.  Good-bye slim, svelte body (as much as it ever could be with my genes), and hello floppy chicken wings.  Now I can only do a little and boy, does it show—and hurt!

              I was doing a little step work the other day (very little) when a knife-sharp stab stopped me in my tracks.  Yeow!  What was that?  So I stepped up again and found out immediately—it was something deep inside my knee.  I stopped and thought.

              In all that exercising over the years I have learned at least a little bit about it.  For example, if you change the angle of your body, suddenly you feel the work in a different muscle, sometimes on a completely different part of your body.  When I took that step up, I was using nothing but my knee, a very fragile joint—how many professional athletes have had their careers cut short with a knee injury?  Lifting that much weight over and over and over, even for just the ten minutes I allowed it, was too much for that little joint to bear alone. 

              So I focused on changing the working muscle.  All it took was putting the entire foot on the step instead of just my toes, and pushing up from my heel on each repetition.  Suddenly, the large muscle mass from my legs and up through the small of my back was doing all the work (especially that extra large muscle), and my knee scarcely hurt at all.  Ha!  I finished my allotment of sweating for the day with no pain, and only a mild ache where it really needed to be aching in the first place.

              That’s exactly what happens to us when we try to bear our burdens alone.  All we are is a fragile little knee joint, when what we need is a huge mass of muscle.  Cast your burden on the Lord and he will sustain you, David said in Psa 55:22.  Do you think that strong warrior didn’t need help at times?  But David was greatly distressed…[and he] strengthened himself in the Lord his God, 1 Sam 30:6.  David was not too macho to know when he needed help and where to get it.

              Too many times we try to gain strength from everything but God--money, portfolios, annuities, doctors, self-help programs, counseling, networking, anything as long as we don’t have to confess a reliance on God.  It isn’t weak to depend upon your Almighty Creator—it’s wisdom and good common sense.  The Lord is my helper, I will not fear; what can man do to me? asked the Hebrew writer in 13:6.  Indeed, not only is what man can do to you nothing compared to the Lord’s power, what he can do for you is even less. 

              When life starts stabbing you in the heart with pain, anxiety, and distress shift your focus.  Remember who best can bear the weight of sin and woes, and let Him make that burden easy enough for you to handle.  I still had to use my knees that day, but they certainly felt a lot better than they did before, and even better the next morning.  By yourself, you will do nothing but ruin your career (Eph 4:1) with a knee injury, but you and the Lord can handle anything.
 
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:6-7
 
Dene Ward

A few weeks ago we piled into the car and headed off for town.  As we reached the western end of the driveway, we saw a stack of pine limbs, 12-15 feet long and still green, as if someone had simply cut them off and laid them there.  Keith stopped the car and stared .

              "What happened here?"

              We went over it together.  I had been by the spot late the afternoon before and seen only the usual foot high field of grass shaded from the afternoon sun by the line of oaks and wild cherries along the west fence.  We had a few gray clouds that evening, as we do nearly every afternoon and evening in the summer, and maybe a quick shower, but no thunderstorm.  Once the evening deepened into pure night, all was still and warm and humid—nothing unusual at all.  It may be five acres, but the distance from the house near the eastern side and the pines on the west is not really that far.  How had this happened without us knowing it?

            Obviously, a small eddy had blown through the pines, and sixty feet above ground it was stronger than you might imagine had you been standing beneath.  I have seen those eddies before.  Sometimes they stir up the dust out in the field where there is no shelter from the trees, but where the trees are thick, they stay aloft.  For it to tear large green limbs meant it was a strong one, but also localized.  Spread out it would not have done any damage.  And so it left us with a neat pile of limbs that Keith hauled to the fire pit for the coming fall.

              When these eye crises first began to hit me, my whole world turned upside down.  I couldn't keep house or cook, I couldn't teach Bible classes, and I had to close my music studio.  Eventually I missed three months of assemblies because of the pain and the appointments and the surgeries and the medication schedule.  When I did make it back and the announcements began I had a bad moment or two.  That week was a baby shower.  The next week was a wedding.  In two weeks was a potluck.  My poor little me self said, "How can they keep on having fun like this?  Don't they know my world is a shambles?"

              Of course that didn't last, but it did come to the surface.  When you are having your own personal storm, you wonder how anyone else can remain unaffected.  Don't they see how miserable you are and how dire the situation?  Don't they care anything about you at all?  Something selfish inside you wants everyone to cry with you.  Maybe that's where the old saying comes from:  Misery loves company.  I was having my own little storm in a localized area and it wasn't affecting anyone downwind.  Or so it felt.

              Okay, so where do we go with this?  First, I am reminded of the injunction to "Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep" (Rom 12:15).  We are all to share in one another's burdens.  If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. (1Cor 12:26).  Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body (Heb 13:3).  Knowing that others care about what is happening to you makes the trials somewhat easier to bear. 

              But there is always, as I said above, the selfishness that must be overcome.  I may be having a storm in my life.  That does not mean that anyone who does not know about it and act like the same storm is ruling their lives doesn't care.  Too many times we act like we have been specially set up to judge others in how they offer their compassion and help.  If it doesn't come when I want and the way I want, they are unloving.  And that of course, can lead to the excuse so many use for leaving the church.  "You didn't come visit me when I was in the hospital.  The elders didn't call, the preacher didn't hold my hand and pray over me, none of the members sent me a card."  Yet, when pressed in the matter you will usually find out one of two things:  the problem wasn't ignored; it was unknown because it was not shared.  Somehow everyone should just "know"—if I have to say anything, they aren't caring enough.  Or, "no one" is a gross exaggeration.

              And it also insinuates that because no one helped me the way I expected and thought they ought to, that I am now excused for any bad behavior.  For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Heb 2:18).  That passage seems to imply that one of the purposes of suffering is so we can learn to help others who are also suffering.  That's what it did for the Lord I claim to be following.  I am supposed to be learning something here, not judging others.  And if I really do learn it, then it becomes my responsibility to do better than the ones I think left me high and dry--not castigating them or using them as an excuse for my own bad conduct, but showing them the way.

              Once my mind cleared that morning, I knew that others were affected by my storm.  They came in droves with hugs, welcoming me back to the assembly.  They had sent me off to difficult surgeries with hugs and money in my pockets for the expenses.  They had fasted and prayed during my scariest operation.  They had taken turns carrying me back and forth to the doctor after Keith ran out of leave time to do it.  That is usually the case when you let your brothers and sisters know your needs, when you share your fears and troubles.  If no one knows you are in a storm, that's your fault entirely.  Don't let a few moments of self-absorption steal the joy of brotherhood.
 
Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. (Gal 6:2)
 
Dene Ward

I just finished another field vision test—the one where you put your head in a bowl and press the clicker every time you see a light.  Although I don’t do as well as I used to, certainly not as well as someone with healthy eyes, the doctor is not unhappy.  “Considering what your eyes have been through,” he said while scanning the results, “this isn’t bad.”

              If you’ve had one of these tests, you know that the patient focuses on a central orange light while white lights of various sizes and brightness blink in different places around the bowl.  In spite of my optic nerve being over half destroyed, I still see light in most areas.  For me it is more about how large the lights are and how bright.  Most of what I miss are small and faint.  The damage from nearly two dozen surgeries of various kinds with bright lights shining down over the operating table for hours, chronic follicular conjunctivitis caused by strong medication, and pressure spikes makes those things difficult. 

              We must be careful not to damage our spiritual vision in a similar way.  When you’ve been hurt, especially more than once by people you have been taught to trust, it’s easy to view the world with something we call “a jaundiced eye.”  Innocence gives way to cynicism, but instead of fighting it we call it “maturity” or “hard-won wisdom.”  That makes it okay to expect the worst, assume the worst, and judge the worst.  It gives us permission to snap with sarcasm, snort with disdain, and view with contempt.  It makes a lack of trust not only justifiable but preferable.  After all, who wants to be called a fool for trusting the wrong person?

              Certainly God does not want us to be “children tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine,” Eph 4:14.  He doesn’t want us to lack common sense, 1 Cor 14:20.  He expects us to “grow up in all things,” Eph 4:15.  He expects us to be “wise as serpents,” Matt 10:16.  But none of that means he wants a people who are skeptical, suspicious and misanthropic by nature.  Does any of that describe the Savior we follow?  Like him, we are also to be “harmless as doves.”

              Do a field vision test on yourself this morning.  Do some situations raise your hackles?  Do certain topics push your buttons?  Do you find yourself unable to see anything good in certain people?  Maybe your vision has been damaged in those areas. 

              I cannot regain any of my lost vision—once it’s gone, it’s gone.  But all of us can regain our spiritual vision.  If you are blind when you view certain people and issues around you, you are probably blind to other more important things as well.  A man once said of Jesus, Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind, John 9:32.  That blind man had his eyes opened to more than just the world around him.  Suddenly he knew even better than his religious superiors that this man was truly the Messiah.  Why here is the amazing thing, he said to those men, you don’t know where he came from yet he opened my eyes, v 30.

              If you believe in him, as you have so often said you do, he can open your eyes too, no matter how many times you have been hurt, no matter how many times you have closed them against the light of his word.  All you have to do is let him.
 
Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, who keeps faith forever; who executes justice for the oppressed, who gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets the prisoners free; the LORD opens the eyes of the blind. The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down; the LORD loves the righteous. Psa 146:5-8
 
Dene Ward

Shortly after meeting some new people, word came back from mutual friends that their assessment of us was, “They do so well for a handicapped couple.”

              Handicapped?  We had never thought of ourselves that way.  No one else, even people who have known us for years, has ever described us that way.  Now Keith, who has reached the point of “profound deafness” may well be called handicapped, but he has never used that word of himself.  He just keeps on doing what needs to be done because it has to be done.  About the only thing I have taken over for him is the telephone.

              He has never used his handicap as an excuse.  Nothing disgusts him more than many of the felons he must deal with who blame society, their parents, their neighborhoods, their economic class and anything else they can for their lack of education and ambition, and their crimes.  He was raised in back hill poverty, without running water, with only a kitchen woodstove for heat in a climate where the water bucket in that same kitchen often developed a top layer of ice overnight.  He began going deaf in his early 20s and already had one hearing aid at 27.  He finished a college degree while supporting a wife and two children.  He continues to work, even now in his mid-60s, despite his ever increasing disability and one stroke already on his medical record.  He uses none of these “handicaps” as an excuse.  They are simply obstacles he must overcome.

              Too often we want to claim handicaps in our work for God.  I don’t have time.  I don’t have the money.  I don’t have the talent.  I am too young and inexperienced.  I am too old.  I am not popular.  I am too shy.  The same God who promised he would not tempt you more than you are able to bear, will not give you an opportunity you don’t have the ability to handle.

              He doesn’t lay out the opportunities like a multiple choice test, then let us choose the one we want.  “None of the above” is not on the list either.  He is the one who decides our handicaps and his decision is obvious in the things he places before us to do.  He expects us to choose “all of the above.”

              Handicaps will make you stronger, but not if you use them as excuses.  You must work your way through them.  Then God will decide whether you did as much as you were able to do.  He is the one who really knows.
 
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor 12:9,10.
 
Dene Ward