Whenever we whiz past workers on the interstate, I cringe, especially if they are not standing behind the "protection" of those concrete barriers.  What if one of them slipped and fell?  What if a couple of them were engaging in horseplay and a little shove propelled one into traffic?  What if…  My imagination can run overtime with those things, I'm afraid, but even if I were not to blame, I would feel terrible if he fell in front of my car.
            I know that is so because when I was a child, one of my parents' friends accidentally killed a child who was riding his bike around his neighborhood.  No, it was not the man's fault.  The boy was not watching where he was going and simply rode out into the middle of the street.  Maybe, as an inexperienced child, he thought a car could stop on a dime.  I don't know, but he was killed instantly.
            Our friend was a wreck.  Witnesses stood by him and he was cleared of all culpability, but he still had a hard time with it.  Over and over he kept thinking, "I killed an innocent child," and the word "accident" made no difference to him whatsoever.
            I would feel the same way, and I believe you would, too.  Being responsible for the death of anyone at all, much less an innocent, would be a terrible burden to bear.  Would there be anything we wouldn't do for that family to try to make amends?
            Yet we are all guilty of killing an innocent person.  Every one of us who has sinned even one sin—if that were possible—has murdered the Son of God.  Does it haunt you the way killing that child haunted our friend?  Would you do anything to make amends? 
            And the worst of it is this—for us it wasn't even an accident.  And in the words of the old hymn, every time we sin, we "crucify him once again."  If it made us feel as bad as it ought to, maybe we wouldn't have such a difficult time with temptation.  If we truly felt horrible about it, we might just be able to overcome.
            Something to think about this morning.
 
For as touching those who were once enlightened and tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the age to come, and then fell away, it is impossible to renew them again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame. (Heb 6:4-6)
 
Dene Ward

Someone once posted on Facebook about "the scariest day of his life."  That instantly made me wonder what mine was.  When you reach my age, you might have a variety to choose from.
            There was the day I found myself alone and cornered in an office by someone twice my size, who had evil intentions toward me.
            There was the day I found myself looking straight through the windshield into another windshield just seconds before we hit head-on.
            There was the day the telephone operator broke through my conversation with one of my piano student's mother with an emergency cut-in.  Within minutes I heard that my husband had been shot in the line of duty, and I jumped in the car for a sixty mile trip to the hospital, not knowing what I would find when I got there.
            Then there was the week afterward when, because he was under threat from the family of the felon who had ambushed him, and because he had five bullet holes in him and was certainly not able to do it himself, I sat up by the window, keeping watch every night.
            There was the day I received another phone call.  My husband had been found lying in the middle of the highway having convulsions.  I followed the ambulance to the hospital and sat for hours wondering how my life was about to change.
            There was the day I signed page after page after page, including handwritten clauses going up the side of the paper saying, "I understand that no one knows how this material will interact with human tissue."  Then I went into a first of its kind surgery with a surgeon who, though one of the best in the world, still had to practice two or three times (on pigs' eyes!) before he touched me, and I was wondering if I would ever see again.
            Yes, there have been many scary days in my life.  But I can think of nothing scarier than this:  facing my death knowing that I am not right with God.  I will do my best to see that that does not happen.
            How about you?
 
For the time is come for judgment to begin at the house of God: and if it begin first at us, what shall be the end of them that obey not the gospel of God? (1Pet 4:17)
 
Dene Ward

Then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the LORD, and Satan standing at his right hand to accuse him. And the LORD said to Satan, “The LORD rebuke you, O Satan! The LORD who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is not this a brand plucked from the fire?” Now Joshua was standing before the angel, clothed with filthy garments. And the angel said to those who were standing before him, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” And to him he said, “Behold, I have taken your iniquity away from you, and I will clothe you with pure vestments.” And I said, “Let them put a clean turban on his head.” So they put a clean turban on his head and clothed him with garments. And the angel of the LORD was standing by. And the angel of the LORD solemnly assured Joshua, “Thus says the LORD of hosts: If you will walk in my ways and keep my charge, then you shall rule my house and have charge of my courts, and I will give you the right of access among those who are standing here. Hear now, O Joshua the high priest, you and your friends who sit before you, for they are men who are a sign: behold, I will bring my servant the Branch. For behold, on the stone that I have set before Joshua, on a single stone with seven eyes, I will engrave its inscription, declares the LORD of hosts, and I will remove the iniquity of this land in a single day. In that day, declares the LORD of hosts, every one of you will invite his neighbor to come under his vine and under his fig tree.” (Zech 3:1-10)
            First, let's get some basic information out of the way.  Joshua here is not the Joshua of the Two Faithful Spies and Successor of Moses.  This is the high priest who returned from Babylon with the exiles.  Understand, that meant the exiles were careful to keep their genealogies intact.  This had to be an exciting time for Joshua.  Ezekiel and his colleagues had been priests without a Temple.  The only duty that a priest in exile could perform lawfully was teaching the Law.  Finally they have the opportunity to perform all the tasks they had trained for.
            However, in this vision, Joshua, the high priest, represents the people standing before the Accuser in a trial of sorts.  There is no doubt about his guilt—he is clothed in filthy garments, plainly identified as "iniquity."  Animal sacrifices are never mentioned.  It takes heavenly beings to remove the dirty clothing and only God himself can replace them with garments suitable for spiritual service as priests. 
            Then the Branch is introduced in the same vision, in the same context.  While he is not specifically identified here, in 6:12,13 we see that he will build the Temple of the Lord and rule as priest on his throne.  From many other passages, we are certain this is the Messiah.  And look what he is associated with in this night vision:  the removal of iniquity "in one day."  You can argue about whether that day is his crucifixion, his resurrection, or even the Day of Pentecost when "the land" (Isa 66:8) came into existence.  Whichever it is, we know that salvation is coming with this "Branch."
            And not only that, but every one of you will invite his neighbor to come under his vine and under his fig tree.  To those people, dwelling under your vine and fig tree symbolized peace and security.  With the trials these returning exiles continued to experience, with the arbitrary nature of the pagan kings they counted upon for provisions, with the droughts and crop failures, and the enemies who lived just over the rise, security sounded wonderful.  It was icing on the promised Messiah cake.
            And we, too, need this vision.  Sometimes we forget the wonderful thing our Savior has accomplished for us—saving us from sin—because we are so wrapped up in the trials of life.  We have security and peace too, not from persecution, not from the calamities of a physical world, but from the wrath of God.  Our sins have been removed.  That is what we have to share with our neighbors.  That is the peace we invite them to—peace with God.  But if they do not see the joy and peace it brings in our lives, even in the midst of trials, they won't think it is worth very much either.
 
​Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27)
 
Dene Ward

On this date in 1099, the man responsible for one of the most corrupt systems in the Catholic Church, Pope Urban II (Otho de Lagery), died.  Unfortunately, the corruption did not die with him.  He is the first pope to use something called indulgences, whereby one could supposedly buy their way out of the consequences of their sin.
            To attempt to make this simple, Catholicism teaches that God does not just forgive a sin and it's done with.  The sinner must also suffer temporal punishment, and then time in Purgatory.  But Urban was also the catalyst for the Crusades.  He needed soldiers.  So he declared that anyone who fought in the First Crusade was absolved of all sin.  If you could not go for some reason or other, you simply bought your way out with something called an "indulgence."  Partial indulgences were also offered, which presumably cost less, and a complex system developed wherein they claimed they could calculate to the day how many of your sins had been cancelled by the amount you paid.  Although in the beginning it was assumed one would also perform acts of penance, within a few centuries that part no longer mattered.  Plus, you could even buy a dead loved one out of Purgatory!
            This is one of the things that finally pushed Martin Luther to rebel.  When he hanged those 95 Theses on the church door, indulgences were squarely in his view as one of the worst kinds of corruption in the Catholic Church.  Finally, Pius V abolished them in 1567.  It had become obvious to even the bean counters how venal the whole system was.
            Of course we know that none of this is found in the Bible—not even a place called Purgatory.  God says that when we meet His conditions, He will forgive us.  Period.  Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, He promised as early as Isaiah (1:18).  Aren't we glad that with God things are so simple?  But today, you still see people creating indulgences, ways to make themselves and their sins not count against them.
            "The church is full of hypocrites."  In my experience that isn't even true.  Yes, we might see a few, but certainly not 100%.  Even the apostles weren't immune from that problem.  And just how does that make it okay to ignore God's commands even if it were true?  It will not cause God to "indulge" your little foibles.
            "It's the way I was brought up.  I can't help myself."  Well, Abraham was brought up by idolaters (Josh 24: 2), but somehow or other he overcame that upbringing and became "the Father of the Faithful" and "the Friend of God."  Both Hezekiah and Josiah were sons of wicked kings who worshipped idols and made treaties with the enemies of God, yet became two of the most righteous kings Judah ever had.  So now, what was that "indulgence" you thought you deserved?
            "The preacher preached a sermon that hurt my feelings."  Jesus hurt a few feelings himself and never apologized for it.  Then came the disciples, and said unto him, Don't you know that the Pharisees were offended, when they heard this saying? But he answered and said, Every plant which my heavenly Father planted not, shall be rooted up. Let them alone: they are blind guides. And if the blind guide the blind, both shall fall into a pit (Matt 15:12-14).  Jesus said that if they let themselves be offended and did not listen to his teaching and change, that they would be "rooted up," not excused.  Most preachers I know quote the Word of God.  Those words are the ones that "hurt people's feelings."  Jesus doesn't give "indulgences" that will absolve your sin when that happens.  You always have the choice not to be offended, but to repent and change.  Take heed how you hear, Jesus also said (Luke 8:18).
            And it is probably not unheard of for someone to tell a congregation, "I give a whole lot more than any of you.  That means you had better_______ (do things my way, stop preaching about things I (or my family) am doing, etc.), or we're leaving.  I do know of one who told the elders if they didn't get rid of a certain Bible class teacher they, and their contribution, would leave.  If that isn't buying indulgences, I don't know what is. 
          Even the Catholic Church finally realized the sleaze factor in indulgences and got rid of them.  We need to follow suit.  God is a loving and merciful parent, but He is never indulgent toward unrepented of sin.
 
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the LORD knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish (Ps 1:5-6).
 
Dene Ward

While the boys were still at home, we raised pigs and chickens.  The chickens we kept mainly for their eggs, but when one stopped producing well, it was time for chicken and dumplings.  The pigs were meant for meat from the time they were piglets.  We named the males Hamlet and the females Baconette to remind us.  You don’t want to get close to an animal destined for the dining table, but then adult pigs are so disgusting there isn’t much danger of that anyway.
            Slaughtering chickens is not quite as traumatic as slaughtering pigs.  They are birds instead of mammals, and they are small and don’t bleed as much.  We never shielded the boys from these things.  They needed to understand where our food came from.  I think there are some city people who must think meat is left in the meat markets in the night by elves the way they go on about the cruelty of ranchers and hunters.  When you understand where it comes from, you respect the animals and appreciate them much more than you would otherwise.  Both of our boys love animals and treat them kindly but they are strong-minded enough to understand necessity too.
            Lucas learned that respect in a more difficult way than we intended.  When it was time to put down a pig, Keith got up early, killed the animal and bled him as quickly as possible, and then loaded it on the trailer for the trip to the butcher.  Three hundred pounds of dead weight meant he needed help. 
            When Lucas was finally big enough to actually help load, he went out with his dad to the pigpen and soberly watched the proceedings.  Mindful of the effect it might have on him, Keith quickly poured sand on the blood.  Then he backed the truck and trailer over to the pigpen gate and Lucas crawled in on the other side to help load the pig—stepping right into that camouflaged pool of blood.  It rose around his ankles, warm and sticky.  After his dad left for the butcher, he came in to wash his feet, a little green around the gills and pale as a ghost.  He really understood the sacrifice that pig had made to feed our family.
            I suppose that is why the Lord intended for us to have a weekly reminder of the sacrifice he made for us, in all its gore.  Too often in asking forgiveness we are like the city folks buying meat at the grocery store, not really understanding all that made that purchase possible.  We need to come to grips with the fact that our actions caused a death, a particularly horrible death.  Even more than that, we are the reason for it yet again every time we sin.  The way we treat our failings as something to laugh about or shrug off as trivial, we probably need to stand beneath that cross and step ankle deep in the still warm blood of Jesus to jolt us back into reality. 
            Sin is just as horrible as slaughter.  In fact, it caused a slaughter which will prevent another one, but not if we don’t have enough appreciation for it to make ourselves do better.
 
He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, yet when he was afflicted he opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth…Yet it pleased Jehovah to bruise him; he has put him to grief: when you shall make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of Jehovah shall prosper in his hand. Isa 53:5-7,10

Dene Ward
 

So you're hungry and decide to make yourself a quick sandwich.  Do you realize what a luxury that is?  A hundred years ago you had to either bake your own loaf of bread or go buy a whole loaf and then come home and slice it yourself.  Bakeries did not have a machine that could slice warm bread or even slice cold bread evenly.  A man named Otto Rohwedder fixed that problem. 
            Born in Des Moines, Iowa, he later moved to Davenport as a child, and eventually entered the Illinois College of Optometry.  After graduation he became a jeweler in St. Joseph, Missouri.  But he always had the dream of a machine that could slice warm bread.  Everyone told him he was crazy and no one took him seriously.  But he never let go of his dream, working at it in his spare time, even building a small factory.  One day his factory burned down, destroying both the prototype and the blueprints for his invention; his idea was put off yet again.  Finally, he came up with another prototype, a machine that would slice bread straight out of the oven without squashing it.  But no one would buy the machine.  They didn't believe it would work.
            Finally, Frank Bench, the owner of the Chillicothe Baking Company in Chillicothe, Missouri, ordered one of the machines.  He sold his first loaf of sliced bread on July 7, 1928.  His bread sales increased 1000% in just two weeks.  Word spread and orders came in from across the country for Rohwedder's machine.  He had changed bread baking.  In fact, in 1943, President Roosevelt tried to ration sliced bread.  A vocal rebellion among homemakers changed his plan.  In 1951, comedian Red Skelton coined the phrase, "The best thing since sliced bread," showing just how momentous this invention was—the phrase has stuck since then.
            Indeed, change can be momentous, especially a change in thinking.  In ancient times, most people did their best to stay out of the limelight, avoiding anything that might make the gods notice them.  Gods, to the pagans, were beings who had no love for mortals and played with them like a cat with a mouse—just before pouncing for the kill.  So no one wished to be noticed by the gods.  In fact, the best life you could hope for was not to be noticed by the gods. 
          Then along came people like the apostle Paul, teaching them about a God who actually cared about them.  A God who loved them and wanted to help them and even be with them forever.  A God who would send His Son to die so all of those things could happen.  Is it any wonder that they flocked to hear about Him?  A God who would do this for you, and who promised you would live with Him in glory for Eternity, was a God worth devoting yourself to, spending your life serving, and even dying for.  And many did, in some truly horrible ways.
            To the Jews He was presented as a God who kept His promises to their father Abraham, and who would bring a kingdom that lasted forever and which no earthly kingdom could destroy.  And His Son, the promised Messiah, also died for a covenant that meant no more Day of Atonement, no more daily sacrifices, no more Passover, because, "Your sins I will remember no more."  No more weight of guilt in your life—another momentous change.
            And our grandmothers thought sliced bread was great?  Sliced bread shouldn't even be mentioned in the same breath as our God.  He can change your life in ways you never thought possible, and loves you far more than you deserve.  …remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me (Isa 46:9).
 
For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Rom 5:7-8).
 
Dene Ward
 
 
 

In case you don't really understand Irma's magnitude, from east to west, it was 650 miles wide—the Florida peninsula averages 130 miles in width.  15,000,000 people in Florida alone were without power.  25% of the homes in Key West were completely destroyed, another 65% incurred major damage.  70,000 sq miles were impacted by at least tropical storm force winds.  The highest winds recorded were 185 mph.  That speed was maintained for 37 straight hours.  Over six million Floridians were told to evacuate.  Another few million did so voluntarily.  The score calculated by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) when measuring the power of hurricanes was 66.8, compared to 11.1 for Hurricane Harvey, and we all watched the devastation from that one (statistics from "Breaking Down Irma by the Numbers" on architecturaldigest.com).
            That is what we Floridians had to look forward to as Irma approached our coasts.  In the past we have had Category 2 and 3 storms hit the coast and, by the time they reached us, diminish to Category 1 or even mere tropical storm force (which is not as "mere" as it sounds when you are in the middle of it).  This one was to hit as a 5.  Everyone told us it would still be a 3 by the time it reached us.  That is why we counted our home as lost, carefully packing what was most important to us in the car and truck and moving them as far from the trees as we could, out into the field. 
            That is also why we spent the night that Irma came through in the car.  Would the car be blown over with us in it?  Possibly.  But far better that than being crushed under a thousand pound limb falling on the house, or being injured or maimed by the flying glass and debris when the roof blew off.  So as darkness fell and the wind and rain picked up, we scampered out to the car and climbed inside. 
            The backseat was crammed with a cooler and two boxes, so lowering the seat backs for a better sleeping position was minimal.  We clasped hands and said our final "together" prayer, and then did our best to go to sleep, which amounted to me being quiet for Keith, who was being quiet for me, as both of us sat/lay there with our eyes wide open, each praying our own continuous private prayer all night long.
            We had left the porch light on for our trip out into the field.  We are used to utter darkness out here in the country, no traffic lights, street lamps, or passing headlights, so that light was intrusive, but it also gave us a small sense of security.  Imagining what was going on would have been much worse.  Finally we both drifted off out of sheer exhaustion from the days of preparation before as well as a cold we had shared that week, and when I woke again I had to use the flashlight to see my watch.  It was 2:30 and the porch light was out.
            We had no idea what was happening, where the storm was, how strong it was.  Several times in the night, the wind howled a bit more loudly and the car rocked.  What surprised me was that behind those thick clouds a full moon actually cast a soft gray light and it was no longer black as pitch as it had been earlier.  Still, we could not tell what was happening.
            After a couple of hours we drifted back off again, rocking in our metal cradle.  At seven, almost as if an alarm had gone off, we both opened our eyes to dim daylight.  We looked out the rain-dribbled windshield and saw a 35 year old manufactured home all in one piece.  No debris, no missing roof, no broken windows.  Lots of yard trash, but no monster limbs crushing anything.  Keith got out into the rain to start up the generator and I flipped on the car radio.  The storm had weakened much more quickly than expected.  If it passed over Gainesville as a Category 1, by the time it reached us, it was to the west and down to tropical storm force winds, something no one had dare predict. 
            Keith came back for me then, and we rolled up our pant legs.  The waters were running off all around us nearly six to eight inches deep as the property drained, but we stood there and hugged each other and shouted a thank you over the slackening wind and rain, tears running down our faces.  God had answered all those prayers, and if you think one thank you was all He got from us, you still don't understand hurricanes and the One who made them.  Even now, over a month later, we are still saying thank you.
            And what did we learn from that?  A question popped up in our minds.  How many times have we said thank you for the sacrifice our Lord made to save our souls in the same fashion we said thank you for his saving our physical home, and a humble one at that?  How many times have we grabbed each other in pure, unadulterated joy and wept real tears over our salvation?  Once, maybe, at our baptism; another time or two when a particular sermon or talk hit us right between the eyes.
            We've been mulling that over for several weeks now.  I hope this week has helped you consider it, too.
 
Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift. (2Cor 9:15)
 
Dene Ward

We woke Sunday, September 10, to the bluster of a nor'easter blowing in from the Atlantic to our east off the Jacksonville coast.  The wind tore at the tops of the trees and rain splattered against the house.  "Is this Irma?" I wondered at first, even though I knew it was too early, and soon discovered what it actually was.  From then on, things just got worse as Irma did approach us from the south.  Traffic on the highway ceased.  Children's voices as they played outside stopped.  I have never heard complete silence around this place.  Even before so many others moved in, something was always chirping, tweeting or crowing, mooing, bawling, or screeching.  But not that afternoon.  The birds knew what lay ahead, as did the animals.  Perhaps they even heard what I could not.
            Finally in the darkness we heard her come.  Rain didn't patter on the metal roof, it roared.  It came cruising across the field one white sheet at a time, crashing against the sides of the house like a giant had thrown an equally gigantic bucket of water against us.  It never came straight down.
            Then the winds began to out-roar the rain.  It seemed to start three or four sections over and come closer and closer and closer until it suddenly slammed us, only to start again.  That's when the whumps and thumps started.  The first time it was a limb, as big around as a man's thigh and about 8 feet long.  It missed the house.  The next time it was a slightly smaller limb and further from the house.  The third time it was a clatter as a green branch, the looks and size of a shrub hit the carport roof and bounced off. 
            It continued all night.  The house creaked, the metal screeched, and occasionally something we thought we had secured fell over or slid in the wind.  At 1:10 AM the lights flashed four times, but stayed on.  At 2:30 they went out completely.
            With all that going on, we did not get much sleep that night, but as the morning hours began to dawn, we both finally slept the sleep of exhaustion, hours of preparation and tension both bringing us at least a couple hours of rest.  We woke at 7 when the gray light finally gave us a view of the results.  And then the sounds completely changed.
            Chainsaws started almost immediately, clearing fallen trees from highways and driveways.  Generators roared to life all around us.  It isn't that we live that close to our neighbors, but generators are notoriously noisy monsters.  Big utility trucks rumbled by on the highways, surveying the damage and planning how to fix it.
            We got in the truck and tootled down the highway to check on our neighbors.  We passed mounds of sawdust where fallen trees had already been removed and then came to the Olustee Creek and heard another new sound—water lapping over the bridge.  It became apparent then that this would be a flood like we had never seen in our 35 years here.  Within a day the bridges over the Santa Fe River were inundated and round hay bales in normally dry fields bobbed like corks in the swelling currents.
            And gradually things returned to normal.  By September 12, the birds were back, tweeting in what seemed like joy, flitting through our trees in numbers larger than we had ever seen.  I filled the feeders and they came to celebrate with us—cardinals, chickadees, doves, titmice, blue jays and woodpeckers, and even a wild turkey that sauntered over from the woods to check out the remains of our now scraggly garden.  The storm that had taken so many days to arrive and had flummoxed so many meteorologists as to its path was finally over.
            It seems like nowadays everyone has something stuck in their ears.  If it isn't an earbud, it's a phone.  And at home, we seem afraid to let there be silence in our lives.  The television is always on, or the radio, or the stereo.  I wonder how many people hear what is happening in their world.  I wonder how many were completely freaked out by the things they heard when the power died.  This is life, people.   This is what you are missing. 
            Hearing is important.  Just ask my husband who began losing his at 24 and had his first hearing aid at 27.  Now labeled "profoundly deaf," he can no longer hear when the engine makes a funny noise in the car and assess it.  He cannot hear the smoke alarm or the ringing telephone.  We cannot whisper at night when the lights are out.  Once it's dark and he can no longer read my lips, we're done.  He would have loved to hear his children's voices and understood what they were saying.   And here the world goes, deafening itself to the sounds the Creator gave us to help us, to protect us, even to save us.
            And the Spirit bade me go with them, making no distinction. And these six brethren also accompanied me; and we entered into the man's house: and he told us how he had seen the angel standing in his house, and saying, Send to Joppa, and fetch Simon, whose surname is Peter; who shall speak unto you words, whereby you shall be saved, you and all your house. (Acts 11:12-14)
            So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ. (Rom 10:17)
            It isn't just modern electronics that steal our hearing, it's the machinations of Satan who lies to us, who uses our culture and our selfishness against us.  That passage in Romans is followed by something we need to hear as well.  "Haven't they heard?  Yes, they have.  Didn't they understand?" but the answer to the problem is given in verse 20:  All day long I have held my hands out to a disobedient and contrary people."
            Open your ears to the Word of God and listen.  Those verses may have been said about the Jews, but that doesn't mean they cannot be true about us as well.
 
“Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. ​Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may live; and I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. (Isa 55:1-3)
 
Dene Ward

Six days before Irma arrived, we stood in line at Publix with our usual week's worth of groceries.  It was 8 AM on a Tuesday.  Behind us a lady guarded her cart like a Doberman, a cart crammed and stacked with as many cases of water bottles as it would hold.  In the aisle next to us another did the same.
            The next day nearly every store of every type in town was out of bottled water.  We had to stop at one of them and a lady stood shouting frantically into her phone, "They're totally out!  What are we going to do?" 
After she hung up, Keith offered, "Ma'am?  There is still plenty of water from the tap in your kitchen sink."
            Which is exactly what we did—pull the 20 empty gallon milk jugs that we keep in the shed and fill them up, along with my umpteen-quart pressure canner for drinking water and tooth brushing.  Then we filled a dozen five gallon buckets outside, plus a forty gallon barrel to use for flushes, baths, and dishwashing.  All we had to do was filter them through a cloth to get our dirt and leaves when it was time to use them. 
            I have never seen Florida prepare for a hurricane like she did for Irma.  Maybe it was the pictures coming out of Houston from hurricane Harvey a few weeks before.  Maybe it was the 185 mph winds.  Or maybe it was the sheer size of the storm.  At one point it covered the whole state except for the far western panhandle.
           I have never seen so many empty shelves in the stores.  I haven't seen long lines at the gas pumps since the gas shortage of the 1970s.  I have certainly never seen the National Guard handling those long lines when only one station out of 5 was open at an exit, the waiting cars trailing back down the off-ramp to the interstate itself.  I have never seen the evacuations, with the interstate at one point being opened to northbound traffic on both sides.
       "This is the one we never wanted to see," I heard more than one meteorologist say.  "You'd better prepare, Florida."  And prepare she did, all 21 million of her.
           And somewhere along the way I couldn't help but wonder, "Shouldn't we be preparing for the Lord this way?"  You may think you have plenty of time, but listen—for you, the Lord comes the day you die.  Once your life here is over, there are no second chances.
          And that life can end in a flash.  I have lost two cousins to automobile accidents, one in his 20s and the other at 16.  I have lost several close friends to disease in their 40s and 50s.  You just never know.
           And then there is this:  every day the Lord doesn't come is a day closer to the day He will. 
           Be prepared.
 
“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a cry, ‘Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those virgins rose and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise answered, saying, ‘Since there will not be enough for us and for you, go rather to the dealers and buy for yourselves.’ And while they were going to buy, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went in with him to the marriage feast, and the door was shut. Afterward the other virgins came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ ​But he answered, ‘Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.’ ​Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour. (Matt 25:1-13)
 
Dene Ward

I suppose it has not escaped your notice that I do not write what I call, “Feel Good Fluff.”  I do my best writing when I am scolding myself, and unfortunately, that means you get scolded too.
            I am more concerned with becoming a better person than with feeling good.  Maybe that is because I seldom feel good physically any more, so I am not wedded to the idea that I must always be pumped up spiritually in order to become a more spiritual person. 
            I have written a few things that I hope have encouraged you.  I have written a few things that have made some of you cry, good tears, not bad ones.  However, a friend told me once, “I want something that challenges me,” and I found myself agreeing with her, and that is what I have tried to do more than anything else.  If I keep saying that you are just fine the way you are, will you even bother to try to improve yourself? 
            As a result, I have lost readers.  It makes me think of Ahab who described the prophet Micaiah this way, “I hate him because he does not prophesy good concerning me, but evil,” 1 Kgs 22:8, and who once greeted Elijah, “Is it you, you troubler of Israel?”  18:17. Too many folks ignore the fact that they are causing their own problems.  Like Israel of old they want preachers who say, “Peace, peace, when there is no peace,” Jer 6:14.  Like the Galatians’ behavior toward Paul, they make those who simply want to help them wonder, “Have I therefore become your enemy because I tell you the truth?” Gal 4:16.
            Pats on the back are good.  They serve a purpose.  A sermon that makes you shed a tear for the sacrifice that saved you is a helpful thing.  It might just sustain you through a temptation that comes your way soon after.  I think that is one reason we remember that sacrifice every week. 
            But emotion fades.  That pumped-up feeling can deflate quickly when the realities of life puncture your balloon.  You must often sustain yourself with the knowledge that comes from the hard, and often tedious, work of Bible study.  You must have the word of God saturating your mind so much that it bubbles up and out of you just when you need it most.  You must have prayed often enough that a quick one automatically comes to your lips in difficult circumstances.  You must believe because you know logically and with sound evidence that these things are true, not because someone sent you a piece of feel good fluff that won’t stand up to an argument by a knowledgeable minister of Satan.
            Most of all, you must be willing to listen to those who love you and care about your eternal destiny, whether you want to hear what they say or not—and, in fact, whether they have your good will at heart or not.  God has often used the wicked to send his message.
            Don’t be afraid to be challenged.  Don’t be afraid to examine yourself for your faults.  It will work wonders for your soul.
 
Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in the spirit of meekness; considering yourself, lest you also be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Gal 6:1,2.
 
Dene Ward