Church shootings have become too real for me.  The one in Fort Worth in December was only 4 miles from the place where my sister and her family were also worshiping that day.
              I am not a professional, but I am married to one.  I have picked up a lot of things from sitting next to him while I try to watch a crime drama on TV as he systematically picks it apart.  Maybe some of what I have learned will help you too.  (And he will add things to this to make it more legitimate.)

              1.  First, to get this little matter taken care of, we are not talking about people coming to persecute you for your faith.  We are talking about law-breakers.  I am not going to argue that point.  My point is saving lives not arguing theology.

              2.  Leave it to the professionals, if your church has any.  We are blessed to have a couple of troopers, a deputy, and some retired law enforcement officers, including my husband who has actually been in and won a firefight himself.  I know many of you are licensed to carry, and I have no problem with that.  I have heard too many validated stories of people saving their own lives because they carry, not to mention that where we live there are always poisonous snakes, packs of dogs attacking the livestock, and rabid foxes, possums, and coons.  The right to carry is perfectly fine with me, and I wouldn't be surprised if a good 20% of our congregation do so.

              3.  If you do not have any professionals among you, then do your best with the training you have, BUT—be aware that the training given for the average guy (or gal) to carry is minimal at best, and absolutely nothing like the intense training a professional gets.  At the shooting in Texas several who were not pros made errors that could have led to tragedy—like waving their guns around when there were still innocent people between them and the bad guy.  They must not understand that handguns are not all that accurate at any distance over a few feet.  Even allowing your wrist to veer just a fraction off-center when you pull the trigger can have you hitting something (or someone) a couple feet to the side.  And bullets go through bodies, people.  If there is someone behind the bad guy, you may get a two-for-one without meaning to.  Amateurs also have bad habits like keeping their finger in the trigger guard (as Lenny Briscoe of Law and Order was wont to do) before they have even acquired a target. 
              And think of this: what if you do accidentally hit a little old lady who just couldn't duck fast enough or a terrified child who dashed across the aisle at just the wrong moment?  Modern forensic science will find out which gun fired the fatal bullet and you will know without a doubt that you are the one who killed an innocent.  Can you live with that?

              4.  If the intruders are satisfied with the money—GIVE THEM THE MONEY!!!  In our age I have little doubt that each member could give the same amount again just by giving up a month of Starbucks or a couple Sunday dinners out.  Far better the criminals leave with the money than someone dies because of ineptitude.

              5.  Your security patrols need to be paying attention, not talking to one another.  They should also be young enough to move quickly, not some eighty year old sitting in an easy chair.  They need an eye on the parking lot and one on whichever door is within sight and there should be someone who can see each door in the place.  How do they worship, you ask?  Our sound system goes all over the building.  They can sing and look at the same time.  In fact, they are more likely to be worshiping then than when they are sitting there chatting with one another.  And alternate the patrol duty every so often so they won't become blasé about it.
              But notice—this guy got in the assembly with hidden gun because he was recognized by many as a man who had come begging several times before.  Just like Satan, bad guys don't always look the part, so always be on guard.

              6.  You need to have drills so that each teacher knows what to do if the bad guy comes into the building during class time.  We have a signal and a lockdown.  Figure out what is best for you, but practice it several times and have the procedure printed out in each classroom.
              "But won't that unnecessarily scare the children?"  I hear someone asking.  Maybe, but anyone who calls himself a parent ought to have figured out by now how to give important information to his child without terrifying him.  We had fire drills in our home.  We talked about stranger danger and even had passwords we gave out when we sent someone to pick up our children somewhere when plans suddenly changed.  I don't recall any of this terrifying my boys.  Instead it told them what to do if, which is far more comforting than leaving them imagining the worst and wondering what to do.  And who says it won't someday be necessary after all?  We can hope and pray, but don't let your children suffer because you didn't do what needed to be done.

              7.  Keep your eyes open, even while sitting in the pew.  The man in Texas knew when those people would be the most vulnerable, when he could kill more of them quickly—during the Communion.  Too many of us hang our hats on the vertical Communion we have with the Lord and ignore the horizontal Communion commanded in 1 Cor 10.  This is supposed to be a unifying act by the church when it "comes together."  We are supposed to be noticing each other.  Maybe this is one good side effect of this horrible situation—now we will get it right!  Even if you can't make yourself look around at your brothers and sisters, at least keep your head up instead of tucking you nose into your navel and thinking that makes you more spiritual than everyone else.  If all those young mothers out there can hold a squirming child, correct another on the seat next to her, and still keep her mind on the services, surely the men out there can keep their heads up and still worship during the Communion.

              Please don't even think about being a hero if it isn't necessary.  This is not a movie scripted so that all the good guys survive and "live happily ever after" with only a token "flesh wound" to show for it.  My husband will tell you, flesh wounds hurt, even 24 years later.  There isn't a day goes by that he does not have pain from one or the other of the five he suffered.
              Keith has written the policy letter for our congregation regarding carrying in services and the guidelines we expect all to follow.  We will be happy to email you a copy if you either leave your email address below or, for privacy's sake, contact Dene on the left sidebar and send her your address via her blog email.
               And let's pray together that all this is for nothing.
 
Dene and Keith Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Warren Berkley.
 
I was the visiting speaker at a large local church in a metropolitan area here in Texas last month. As the announcements scrolled across the screen, then prayers offered, there were those words I see over and over: Cancer, Heart Attack, Asthma, Parkinson’s, Surgery, Diabetes, Leukemia, Alzheimer’s, Brittle Bone, on and on.
             When we see or hear these words, we often feel disappointed, defeated and we grieve with the “sick and afflicted” and their families. Sometimes the word “terminal” is part of the reality.
                Here is another perspective. All these conditions are temporary! It is so hard to replace the word “terminal” with the word “temporary.” But when the full scope of existence is brought into view, that there is an existence after this life, “terminal” is overpowered by “temporary,” especially for those who build their lives on the foundation of active faith in Christ.
I            I was preaching from 1 Peter 1 at this church. I read their list of conditions/diseases and told them, “these are all temporary,” then I read 1 Pet. 1:6.
 
Truth Connection: “In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials.”
 
Warren Berkley
Berksblog.net

The first publication of Fahrenheit 451 occurred on October 19, 1953.  In this picture of a dystopian society (one that is unpleasant and dehumanizing, according to one definition I found), books are banned.  All books.  Firemen do not put out fires—they start them, burning down houses and buildings that contain books.  The title comes, not from the burning point of paper, but from the auto-ignition point—the temperature at which paper will catch fire without being exposed to an external flame, and even that varies according to circumstances.  Still, it makes for a catchy title.
 
             One fireman gradually becomes disenchanted with his job.  He begins to see that his society is obsessed with frantic consumption and shallow entertainment.  If all books are subversive, why is it that the secret book readers he comes across are the only people who can carry on intelligent and profound conversations?  Eventually he flees his life and becomes part of a group that preserves books by memorizing them. 

              How many ways can we go with this?  Far too many for one short post, so let's just keep it to a couple of obvious ones. 

               First, I checked to see how many places ban the Bible.  The answer is complex because there are exceptions to the laws, but the Gideons, the group known for handing out free Bibles, says they are not allowed to operate in Afghanistan, Algeria, China, Comoros, Djibouti, Iran, Iraq, Libya, Maldives, Mauritania, Morocco, North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Tunisia, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Yemen.  In some of those places churches can order Bibles but not individuals.  In some they can be printed but only in certain languages.  In some places you can import but not publish.  So the answer is not short and easy.  Still, it proves that ready access to the Word of God should not be taken for granted.
 
             Let's take a moment to caution everyone about articles on Facebook.  Many people jump the gun before they read the fine print and assume things that are false.  Evidently that happened with a proposed bill in California.  Someone posted that the bill would ban the Bible.  From my research, that does not seem to be the case.  However, there have been instances where students in various parts of the country were told they could not read their Bibles at school.  In some cases, the outrage brought an apology, but the Devil starts small until he weasels his way into our culture.  Look at the things that are now accepted that at one time everyone disapproved of.  When I was a child, I heard someone on television say that one day it would be a crime in this country to read your Bibles, but it would be legal in Russia.  At the height of the Cold War that seemed preposterous.  Now I am not so sure.

              Let's also consider this:  if it were to suddenly become illegal to own and read a Bible, if "firemen" did make their living burning the Word of God, how much difference would it make in your life?  If you don't read it now, why should you even be upset about it?  Seems a little hypocritical to me.

              And if you were to run away to find a group of Bible readers who had memorized the Scriptures so they would not be lost forever, how much could you offer them?  Yes, I know memorization is more difficult as you grow older—I forget words I have known for decades.  But I know my address, my phone number, my passwords, my social security number, and the last four digits of three or four credit cards.  Don't you?  It all boils down to what is important to us, doesn't it?  I have no right to become outraged with the premise of Bradbury's novel as it relates to the Bible, when the Bible doesn't mean enough to me to read it, to know it, or to live it.

              One of these days, Fahrenheit 451 may indeed come to pass for Christians.  Let's make sure there are enough people around who still care.
 
And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts ,knowing this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture comes from someone's own interpretation. For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit. 2Pet 1:19-21
 
Dene Ward

My grandniece has Spinal Muscular Atrophy Type 1.  SMA1 is a disease that causes progressive loss of motor neurons, leading to muscle weakness and atrophy.  Type 1 usually shows in babies 6 months and under.  The infants will have difficulty moving, eating, breathing, and swallowing.  They will be unable to lift their heads on their own and unable to sit up on their own.  Most victims of this disease do not survive past age 2 due to respiratory failure.  Abigail has already survived the odds, having turned four this year, but her life is not an easy one.
 
             Abigail must often be rushed to the hospital.  Even a simple cold could be the end.  She recently gave us a fright as she was once again loaded into an ambulance and carted off first to an ER and then a PICU.  Abigail takes it all in stride, and today she is going to teach us a lesson we all need to hear. 

              My niece, Abigail's mother, recently posted the following on Facebook:

             "Abigail's full name is Abigail Andreia (on-DRAY-uh) Saltz.
          [Her father] was very partial to "Abigail," and I...was not. He always wanted purely Biblical names for our children and I told him we could use Abigail IF he could think of a middle name that had three syllables, accent on the second syllable. He stretched his Biblical names rule by choosing a Greek word for her middle name meaning "brave," because it seemed a fitting descriptor for the queen we were naming her after and an admirable quality to live up to.
              Wow. The things you don't know.
            I have told Abigail what her middle name means so many times now that she thinks her *actual name* is Abigail Andreia Brave Saltz. When she has to do something scary she says, 'Gimme a minute. I' takin' away da Andreia and da Saltz so all I have is da Brave. Brave means being still even when you're scared.'
             Today the IV techs marveled at how still she was while putting in her IV.
           And this is what people mean when they say their children teach them far more than they teach their children."

              Abigail has always been the happiest child I have ever known.  I always suspected she was brave—children who have physical difficulties often are because of the things they experience from early on.  Now I know exactly how she does it.  She "takes away" the names that might be in the way so she can make use of the name that counts--Brave.
 
             Can I ask you this morning, what names do you need to take away?  The only name that should count for you is Christian—a child of God, a disciple of Christ.  That name will give you strength when temptations arise.  It will give you peace and contentment when you don't understand.  It will give you courage and steadfastness when trials beset your soul. 

            And why is that?  Because through that name we have life (John 20:31), we have hope (Matt 12:21), we have justification (1 Cor 6:11), we have remission of sins (Acts 10:43) and salvation (Acts 4:12).  We also have absolutely no excuse for failure because the one who wore that name left the example for us to follow, and said it was possible to do so.

              Four year old Abigail knows the power of a name.  Remember the name you wear.  Take away all the others and use that one to be faithful to the end.
 
Let them praise your great and awesome name! Holy is he! (Ps 99:3).

Dene Ward
 

The person who survives life is not the one who uses his misfortunes as an excuse to fail but rather uses his trials as the impetus, and reason, to succeed.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (Jas 1:2-4).

Just as I expected he would, Judah has long since conquered the scooter we gave him for his 5th birthday.  In fact, he wore that one out and is now, at six, on the next size up.  You should see that little guy as he rounds the cul-de-sac again and again, pushing off with his left foot, zooming around parked cars and navigating between the neighbor's trash cans on the edge of the road.  His older brother on his bike can barely keep up. 
 
             No one has to remind him to put on his helmet.  That's a good thing, because he has had his share of spills and the last time we were down, he had a doozy.  We saw him hit the road, but he waved us off as he stood up and lifted the scooter off the road, pushing it all the way to the driveway.  The blood was already pouring, so Granddad took him inside while I stayed with his brother.

              After a few minutes I was told that I was needed.  Granddad could do the cleaning, but Grandma was requested for the bandaging.  When I sat on the floor in front of his dangling leg I got my first good look at that knee.  A half dollar sized piece of skin was completely missing, as if someone had taken a grater and scraped it off, a nearly perfect circle.  Bright red and oozing blood, I knew that it needed some sort of antibiotic and I knew it would hurt.

              I looked up at those big blue eyes brimming with unshed tears, his little lips compressed into a straight line, trembling just a bit as he struggled to keep his composure.  "I will use the spray and blow on it to make it hurt less, okay?"

              "Okay," he managed to squeak out.

              A quick spray and Grandma nearly undid herself blowing as hard and long as she could until the walls around us began to spin.  Then a big bandage that barely covered that skinned spot and we were on to the next one, for the whole top of his foot and leg were scraped and bloody halfway to his knee.  Altogether we used five bandages, but that little guy never uttered a peep.

              "You were a very big boy!" I told him. 

              That seemed to ameliorate the still stinging wounds on his foot and leg.  He gave me a small smile and he was off to play again.  Later that evening when Mommy and Daddy came home, he was proud to show them his boo-boos and even prouder when I told them how brave he had been—"just like a grown up!"

              It must have been a week later before the irony struck me.  We told him how "big" and "brave" and "grown up" he had been.  I am not sure why, because many of the grownups I have seen are perfectly happy to whine and fuss and demand attention from everyone about every little thing that comes along.  Have you looked at Facebook lately?

              Yes, some things do need the concern and care of others.  Some things are so difficult to bear that we might very well topple without someone to lean on.  Those things, which are far worse than a skinned knee, demand our love and help and attention.

               But too many times a relatively minor trial is treated as if it were a life-threatening emergency.  Too often a "skinned knee" is used to judge our brethren as uncaring, or to excuse ourselves from serving.  Exactly what is "big, brave, and grown up" about that?

               Let this sweet little boy, who did his best to be "grown up," teach you what it means to be brave and mature.  Let him remind you that small things like skinned knees happen every day in the life of a Christian.  God expects us to doctor the wounds and then get back up and carry on, to dry the tears and act like an adult.  As a general rule, skinned knees won't kill you.
 
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, (2Cor 4:16-17)
 
Dene Ward

It is a culinary fact that fat tempers acid.  That is why some of the world’s favorite dishes combine a good helping of both.  Melted mozzarella offsets a tomato-y pizza sauce.  A cheese-stuffed calzone is almost unbearably rich without a small bowl of marinara to dip it in.  A homemade pimento cheese sandwich SCREAMS for a homemade dill pickle on the side.  The South’s favorite summer treat, a drippy tomato sandwich on high quality white bread, simply must be slathered with a glop of mayo.  Fat and acid—the perfect combination; it’s why we dip French fries in ketchup and chips in salsa; it’s why the favorite toppings for a hot dog are ketchup, mustard, relish, and chili.  It’s why we put whipped cream on strawberries and why a Key lime pie is just about the perfect dessert.

            Trials, tribulations, sufferings and afflictions are the acid tests for Christians.  No one wants to go through them, yet we all understand that is what makes us stronger, builds up our faith, keeps us able to endure till the end.  All of us would be spiritual wimps without them. 

            What we fail to realize is that God gives us plenty of fat to offset them.  How many blessings can you count in your life today, not even considering the most wonderful one of all, your salvation?  How many good things happened to you just this morning?  Did your car start?  Did you make it to work safely?  Are your children safely ensconced in a safe place?  Do you still have a roof over your head?  Is there food in your refrigerator?  Is the electricity on, the water running and the AC humming away?  Are their flowers blooming in your yard and birds singing in the trees?  Do you have pleasant memories to calm you in the midst of sorrows?  Is there a Bible in your home and are you free to read it whenever you want to?  Did you pray to a Father who loves you more than anything else?  How many more “fat” items can we come up with?  Probably enough to fill even the gigabytes of memory in our computers if we just took the time to think of them.  If you have trouble, just ask a three-year-old—they are pros at this.

            I don’t mean to make light of people’s problems with this little analogy—but then again, maybe I do.  Paul calls them “light afflictions” in 2 Corinthians 4, and he was including persecution to the death in that context.  Compared to the end result, compared to the reward, compared to our Savior’s sufferings so we could have that reward, our trials and tribulations are light indeed.

            So today, if you are in the middle of a struggle, if the acid is burning your soul, look for the fat God gave you to temper it.  Look for everything good in your day, in your life, no matter how small it may seem.  If that doesn’t work, and sometimes it doesn’t, remember the good that will result from your testing, and don’t let it be for nothing.  Don’t let Satan win.  The bigger the tomato, the more mayo God smears on, if you only know where to look.
 
Wherefore we faint not, for though our outer man is decaying, our inward man is renewed day by day.  For this momentary light affliction works for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of glory; while we look not at things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal, 2 Cor 4:16-18.
 
Dene Ward

On August 3, 1970, Mairiam Hargrave of Yorkshire, England passed her driving test.  So? you ask.  You passed yours too, I bet, and didn’t even consider it important enough to remember the date.  Why in the world would anyone remember someone else’s?  Because Mairiam passed her test on her fortieth try, that’s why. 
 
             After twenty tries she began to make the papers.  After thirty-seven she made the Guinness Book of World Records.  She kept trying and nine years after her first test, she passed.  And no, her examiner did not just take pity on her—he didn’t know anything about her previous failures until she told him, after he passed her.  This woman spent over $700 taking driving lessons.  Even though she became a laughingstock, she never gave up.

              How easily do we give up?  How many times do we have to fail before we say, “It isn’t worth it?”  If we’re talking about overcoming a sin, I hope we have the endurance of Mrs. Hargrave.  If we’re talking about praying, I hope we ask again and again.  If we’re talking about having a relationship with God, I hope persistence is our middle name.

              Remember the Syrophenician woman whose little girl was ill with a demon (Matt 15:22ff)?  The first time she approached Jesus he never even acknowledged her.  The second time he insulted her.  Yet still she kept coming and soon her great faith was rewarded.

              Remember the parable of the widow who pestered a judge to death until he finally gave her what she wanted (Luke 18:1ff)?  Just to get her off his back he relented.  Jesus’ point is if it works with an unrighteous man, surely it will work with a Holy Father. 

              Remember Paul’s admonition to the Galatians?  They seemed to be wondering if all their labor was worth it.  Paul reminded them of the law of reaping and sowing.  Sooner or later, he said, you will benefit from the good works you do.  Do not grow weary of doing good for in due season we will reap if we do not give up.  Waiting for God’s timetable may well be the most difficult thing He has asked us to do, and the greatest test of our endurance.  Don’t give up.

              The church at Ephesus may have had many faults, but the Lord does say to them, I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up for my name’s sake, and you have not grown weary, Rev 2:3.  Can He say that about us?  Or have we given up, whining about the pressures of temptation, not just bent but completely broken from the trials, deciding that being a disciple of Jesus’ simply isn’t worth the bother?

              What if He had decided you weren’t worth it?  What if he had told God that the cost was too high, that you weren’t worth the trouble, the pain, the anguish of taking on a human form and dying a hideous death after the spiritual torture of taking on every person’s sin throughout all history?  What would you say to him if you knew he had been about to quit?  How hard would you have begged him not to?

              Surely you have more grit, more tenacity, and more determination for spiritual things than a 62 year old grandmother had for a driver’s license.  Surely you won’t give up now.
             
Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted, Hebrews 12:3.
 
Dene Ward

When I was very small, my favorite song was “Wake Up, Little Susie.”  I am probably dating myself with that admission.  In case you are from a different generation, the song was about a young couple who fell asleep during their movie date, and were afraid of what people might think when they came home several hours late. 
 
             Psalm 103 is David’s version of the song—one he is singing to himself.  Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! ​Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, vv 1-2.  I found it difficult to see that “wake up” admonition, I admit.  But every commentator I checked, five of them, saw it clear as a bell.  One likened it to Psalm 42:5:  Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.  That one is much easier to see.  Why are you so depressed, he asks himself, when you have the salvation offered by God?  Now look again at 103:  Bless the Lord…and forget not his benefits.”

              For isn’t that exactly what we do?  We go along in our ordinary, normal lives, nothing important happens, nothing exciting happens, and we become complacent in our service and even a little despondent in our ordinariness, and forget what God has done for us.  But just think about this morning.  You woke up in your comfortable bed (check) in your comfortable house (check), possibly next to your beloved (check).  You ate a breakfast from a pantry and refrigerator full of possibilities (check).  You stood in front of a closet and chose from among all those clothes what you wanted to wear (check).  You might have gotten in your car (check) and driven to school or work or the store without mishap (check).  How many blessings is that already that you never even noticed?  How many more will you receive the rest of the day, and still not notice?

              “Forget not his benefits!” David reminds himself—and later on the people of Israel, and ultimately us.  Why is it that when something bad happens we will blame God, but never think to give Him credit for all the good we enjoy nearly every single minute of the day?  “Wake up and praise the Lord!”

              And then there is this:  while God gives us brethren to encourage us, David shows us that in the final analysis, we are responsible for our own rousing.  We cannot blame the church, we cannot blame the elders, we cannot blame our families if we fall into hopelessness and despair—it’s my business to see myself clearly, to notice when I need a nudge or a prod or even a kick in the rear.  And after I have awakened, then I will follow David’s example of leadership and wake others too. 

              Which is what this has been, I hope—wake up little Susie, or Joey, or Charlie, or Cathy, or whatever your name may be.  Do not forget the benefits of being God’s child.  Always count your blessings, no matter how trite that may seem.  David did.  He’s not a bad leader to follow.
 
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change, James 1:17.
             
Dene Ward

Chloe, our 12 year old Australian cattle dog, is not stupid.  She is, however, a little bit lazy.  She spends as much of her day as possible lying under the porch in the cool sand.  So several days a week I make sure she gets some exercise.  Keith has mown a path around the property that runs a half to three-quarters of a mile.  Chloe will easily follow me around once just to be with me, but if I try to lead her uphill and down, through thick grass and uneven ground, over armadillo holes and mole tunnels more than twice, she balks.  As soon as we come anywhere near the porch after the second lap, she is under it in a flash in her cool, damp haven.  She has had her fill of "healthy" for the day.
 
             In the summer she may not even last two laps, her tongue hanging nearly to the ground and her breath coming in heavy puffs after just a couple hundred feet, but as I said, she is not stupid.  Part of our jaunt lies in the bright, hot, direct Florida sun, and part in the deep, ten degree cooler shade of hundred year old live oaks.  Every time we hit a sunny spot, my furry redhead's pace picks up to a trot as she jogs through the heat.  When we reach the shade, she slows to a walk—the better to stay longer in the cooler shadows, head wagging back and forth with each heavy step, feet beginning to drag as she sees another sunny spot approaching.  If she finds a fresh hole to investigate or spoor to be sniffed, she will only do so in the shade.  In the sun, it just isn't worth it. 

              Winston Churchill supposedly said, "If you're going through hell, keep going."  (The attribution is an open question.)  Chloe would understand perfectly.  The only way to get out of the heat, out of the bad situation you are in, is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, the faster the better.  But what do I see?  People who lie down in the scorching sun and wallow around in the grass waiting for someone to come and pat them on the head and tell them everything will be fine.  Someone has been listening to too much health and wealth gospel.

               Everything will never be fine until you get up and get going, and then "fine" is still relative.  Life is hard.  That is what those curses in Genesis are all about.  "Thorns and thistles" is not about trying to grow a garden, it's about living a life of uncertainty, trials, illness, loss, pain, and suffering.  It happens to everyone, not just you.  If you went around the room and asked people to share, you would find that everyone is dealing with something.  The only way to handle it is to keep going until you reach some shade, even if only for a while. 

              If you need help to get out of the heat, get it.  Counselors and support groups should not be forbidden to Christians.  Find someone who has firsthand experience.  No one knows what you are going through like others who have been through the same things.  No "best friend" can help you like someone who has been trained to.  You are not being strong when you refuse this kind of assistance—you are simply making everyone who loves you suffer, too, by your stubbornness.  It's one thing to stumble and fall as you stagger through the scorching heat of affliction, and need a hand up; it's quite another to simply sit down in it and wallow like a pig in the mud.

              If a little dog knows better than to flounder in the heat, surely you should.  Get yourself up and walk—trot even--into the shade.  What will you find there?  Your brethren, a Savior who gave himself up for you in a truly horrible fashion, and God who allowed it for your sake, who listens to your cries, and who has promised that someday there will be no more scorching heat of suffering, just the cool, and Eternal shade of comfort and ease with Him.  But you will never reach it unless you keep on going.
 
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)
 
Dene Ward