It’s a classic kids’ comment, one Keith and I make to one another for laughs, but we never really had to deal with it when the boys were little.  Frankly, parents are their own worst enemies about things like this—your children know exactly what they can and cannot get away with long before they can even tell you in words.  If you don’t want to hear that particular whine, then do something about it.

              Yet still I thought of that question when I was working on Psalm 13.  “How long?” David asks, not once, but four times in the first two verses.  It was just as common then as it is now.  Habakkuk’s psalm begins, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help and you will not hear?” Hab 1:2. The martyrs pictured around the throne of God cry out, “O Sovereign Lord...how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Rev. 6:9,10.  “How long” is indeed a common complaint in the scriptures—I found it listed 52 times!

              And the point is this, these people are undergoing not just trials, but long, drawn out trials.  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” we often say, and that means it crawls when you aren’t.

              “It is not under the sharpest, but the longest trials that we are most in danger of fainting,” Andrew Fuller, in Spurgeon’s Treasury of David.  It is so true.  Just last week I nearly lost it over something small and inconsequential. 

              Being married to a deaf man can be extremely frustrating.  Three times in one hour Keith and I had a misunderstanding based totally on the fact that he could not hear what I was saying.  If he could have heard just three words, none of it would have even mattered, but because he couldn’t, it made the situation more and more complex, and more and more exasperating as it went on.  And the reason I couldn’t handle it that morning?  Not because it was three times in one hour, but because we have been dealing with it for forty years now.

              But who am I to complain?  The woman in Luke 8 had her issue of blood for 12 years.  The woman who had the spirit of infirmity in Luke 13 had been suffering for 18 years.  The man who lay at the pool of Bethesda (John 5) had done so for 38 years.  The blind beggar in John 9 had been that way from birth.  Sarah had waited for a child for decades.  The people of God waited for a Messiah for several thousand years!  These people had far more reason than I to ask God, “How long?”

              All of us are prone to ask, “Are we there yet?”  and sometimes the answer does not come in this lifetime.  That may be the most difficult thing to deal with.  Some are born into suffering and never get out of it.  Some, due to random accident or maybe even their own bad choices, suffer for the remaining years of their lives and never see a reason.  God has His plans and we are not always privy to them.    

              But one day we will receive the answer we want to hear: “How long? Now! We are there!”  The waiting will be over, no more suffering of any sort, even the petty little annoyances that no one else can understand, that drive you up a wall on a bad day, that fill you with guilt when your mind clears and you finally recognize just how blessed you truly are. 

              Some day we will arrive, and we won’t be going on any more long difficult journeys ever again.
 
It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. Deuteronomy 31:8.                                          
 
Dene Ward

Girls raised in the South, or GRITS as one of my coffee mugs calls them, are some of the strongest people on this earth.  These women were nurtured on grits, greens, cornbread and chores from the time they could chew.  They work hard and long without complaint.  They know that getting dirty is healthy and sweat is not a terminal disease so they don’t avoid either one.  They can hoe row after row in the hot sun, shell beans till midnight, can, blanch, and preserve in a steamy kitchen for hours, cook for an army every night, and then clean it all up and start over the next morning. 

              They show up like magic when others are hurting and do whatever needs doing.  They find their way in any kitchen, heating up casseroles seasoned with love and tears, stirring pots of vegetables flavored with fatback, slicing tall layer cakes and mile high meringue pies, sinking their arms in a sink full of suds, and grabbing up a basket of laundry on their way out the door to be returned clean, mended, ironed, and folded before the house of mourning even realizes the clothes are missing. 

              They will take anyone’s children in their laps and dry up tears, listen to sad stories, and tell a few funny ones to bring back the smiles.  They bandage skinned knees and aren’t too prissy to change a needful baby’s diapers, no matter who it belongs to.  They will even offer a little discipline on little bottoms that think since Mama’s not around no one else cares—they care.  They can play tag, hide and seek, and red rover, make mudpies and sand castles, and then go home and finish whatever needs doing, no matter how late it gets.  They will stay up all night with anyone who needs it, then get up and go again as if nothing has happened.

              How do they do it?  The women I grew up watching had one magic ingredient—love—love that involved selflessness, strength, and purpose, and was borne from the heat of life.  Maybe living in the South made that come more naturally, just as the southern heat and humidity makes the sweat pour more profusely.  But then I am sure that some of my Northern friends could tell stories about their mamas, too.  Maybe it's not the south that makes these women like this—maybe it's the fact that they are real women, not divas or prima donnas.

              God applies the heat to us as well.  In Isa 48:10, God told His people,   Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction. Affliction hurts.  It burns in a flash and roasts in constant pain and fear.  But eventually, the heat refines our souls and makes them pure and strong.

              What, you think it unfair that God would do this?  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 He would do it to His own Son, who are we to get some sort of special dispensation?  In fact, the special dispensation is in the trials.  If God never put us through these things, we would be weaklings, always babes, never maturing to spirituality.  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.

              There is another result from all this fiery testing, perhaps the best result of all.  God speaks of a group of His people in Zech 13:9, saying, And I will put this third into the fire, and refine them as one refines silver, and test them as gold is tested. They will call upon my name, and I will answer them. I will say, 'They are my people'; and they will say, 'The LORD is my God.'"  I will go through whatever it takes to have Him declare me His child and answer my call, won’t you?

              Even now, as the long hot summer approaches, I am ready for it.  It reminds me that just as the southern heat strengthens my body, the spiritual heat can work wonders on my soul.  I know from watching both of my grandmothers, and my mother and aunts.  I know from working side by side with other women as we toil for our families and neighbors, and for the Lord, too, as we serve our brethren. 

              You need to become comfortable with the fire.  If you can’t stand the heat, the kitchen is the least of your worries.
 
Each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. 1 Corinthians 3:13
 
Dene Ward

We sit on the carport most spring mornings with a last cup of coffee, looking for the first sign of spring green in the trees, patting Chloe on the head, and planning our day.  This morning a light breeze ruffled my hair and I shrugged my shoulders against the bit of chill left from the last cold front that had blown through earlier in the week.  A light tinkle made my eyes wander up to the new wind chimes hanging above my head, not your ordinary bong-y wind chimes, but a delicate, more musical note that had gotten my attention the first time I heard them.
 
             I have a friend, a sister in Christ, who crafts these things herself from antique flatware and keys, glass jar lids, beads, and anything else she can find as she wanders through flea markets and small dusty shops.  Mine has all these beauties hanging from an antique silver salt cellar, something I must explain to anyone younger than 60.  All of her creations are beautiful and unique, and mine has that particularly melodious sound that made me choose it from its fellows.

              Outward beauty does not determine the sound that a wind chime produces.  It can only make the sounds that its various elements make.  You won’t get the same sound from iron bars that you will from silver and glass.  Ever do the trick with your glassware, pinging an empty one to see if it’s truly crystal or just ordinary glass?  That’s the way it is with wind chimes, and that’s the way it is with you and me.  A stony heart will not produce the same fruit as a soft one.  An iron heart will not act the same way a heart of gold will.

              You also know this:  the harder the wind blows, the louder the chimes.  When it seems like the storms of life blow us about the most, those are the times that what we are becomes most obvious.  Those are the times that people see what we’re made of.  Even if they don’t really care about the faith you may have tried to share, it becomes so obvious they cannot miss it.  The wind blows where it will, and you hear the voice thereof, but know not from where it comes, or where it goes; so is every one that is born of the Spirit, John 3:8.  People will not see the Spirit within you personally, but they will see its effects on you.  You cannot disguise whether or not you are filled with the Spirit of God.

              If you would like one of these beautiful chimes, just get in touch and I will share my friend’s contact information.  But today think about this far more important thing—you are God’s wind chimes.  People will not be satisfied with your appearance.  The point of the chimes is the sound they make.  What sound does the Wind produce in you?
 
And they that are in the flesh cannot please God. But you are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwells in you. But if any man has not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his. And if Christ is in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the spirit is life because of righteousness. But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he that raised up Christ Jesus from the dead shall give life also to your mortal bodies through his Spirit that dwells in you, Rom 8:8-11.
 
Dene Ward

We live under a couple of huge live oaks, trees so big it would take half a dozen people holding stretched out hands to reach around them.  That means when I planted a flower bed on the west side of the house under one of those trees, the lee side so to speak, I had to be careful what I put there.  Anything with a “full sun” tag wouldn’t make it.  But it also means that I can grow things outside that others might need to take inside on a frosty morning.  The tree protects them with both the extra degree or two of heat it gives off and its shelter from the settling dew that crisps into frost on a winter morning.

              Isn’t that how we raise our children, on the sheltered side of life, and even on the sheltered side of the church?  That is as it should be.  Children shouldn’t need to worry about where their next meal is coming from.  They shouldn’t be concerned with the office politics their parents must put up with.  They certainly shouldn’t hear about church squabbles.  Your job as a parent is to protect them from those things. 

              But you can’t do that forever.  Sooner or later they need to learn about people, about their imperfections, maybe even the danger they pose to others.  That’s why we teach them that no one should touch them in certain places, that they should never get in the car with a stranger, or accept candy, or look for lost puppies.  It’s unfortunate, but we do it because we love our children.

              I am afraid we are not that smart about teaching our children about problems among brethren.  It isn’t just the false teaching wolves we need to teach them about, though more of that would be helpful.  We seem to have raised a generation that thinks everyone out there is harmless and means well because they speak in syrupy tones and sentimental mush-mouth.  No, the thing we must be most careful about is how they see us handling the disappointments with our brethren.  What they see us do and say can make or break their spiritual survival.

              When Keith was preaching full time, we saw people who claimed to be Christians acting in every way but that.  We saw couples at each other’s throats.  We saw family cliques.  We received physical threats.  We were tossed out on our ears more than once for his preaching the truth.  It may be that the only thing that kept us both faithful was realizing how these things might affect our children if we didn’t handle them carefully. 

              When they were old enough to understand what was happening, we never blamed the church.  We never blamed God.  We told them that sometimes people were not perfect, even good people--sometimes they just made a mistake.  I was NOT going to let what those people had done to us cost my children their souls.  They were what mattered. 

              As they grew older, we talked often about being faithful to God, not to a place or a group.  We reminded them about Judas.  What would have happened if the other apostles had let Judas’s monumental failure run them off?  What about Peter, their erstwhile leader?  If everyone had given up because of his denial there would have been nothing for him to return to upon his repentance.  The mission of the church depended upon those men staying faithful regardless.  God was counting on them.  We told them over and over, you never let what someone else does determine your faithfulness.  God expects you to do the right thing no matter what those people do.  I had to learn to control my depression and discouragement and not give my children cause to leave the Lord. 

              We planted our children on the sheltered side of the house, but then we moved them slowly one foot at a time to a place where the sun would beat down on them and the cold would leave frost on their leaves.  Finally they were as inured as possible from the effects of other people’s failures, including our own.  If they ever fall away, they know better than to blame someone else.

              Be careful what your children hear you say about your brethren.  Be careful what they see in your actions and attitudes.  Sooner or later they will need to stand the heat of the noonday sun and the bitter cold of a spiritual winter.  Don’t give them an easy excuse not to.
 
For there must be also factions among you, that they that are approved may be made manifest among you. 1 Corinthians 11:19
 
Dene Ward

When we describe our camping trips, people sigh and say things like, “That sounds heavenly.” 

             We cook over an open fire, the meat caramelized by the flames and flavored by the smoke.  At night we sit by a pile of crackling logs under a black sky of twinkling diamond stars and sip hot chocolate.  In the mornings we cuddle by a fire pulled together from the coals of the night before, and gaze on a view that ought to cost extra—mountain after mountain after green rolling mountain against a blue sky, or wrapped with frothy clouds like lacy boas, or peeking through a fine mist, or shining in the sun, covered with trees sporting all the fall colors along with a few dark evergreens.  We hike through wilderness forests unsullied by human rubbish, watching birds we seldom see flit from limb to limb, coons or deer or bears trundling off in the distance or standing stock still in shock staring at us, tiny rills splashing over rocks into larger brooks running to yet larger creeks and finally to the rivers in the valleys below.  We visit orchards and buy apples straight from the tree, not prettied up for the store, sporting a real blemish here and there, but full of flavor, juicy with a perfect texture.  That evening we peel and slice a skillet full, add butter, sugar and cinnamon, set them on a low flame on the propane camp stove and twenty minutes later eat the best dessert you ever had.

              Then we trot out the other side of camping to our friends:  a day long misty rain that, even inside the screen set up over the table, seeps into your clothes and leaves you shivering; carrying a loaded tote to the bathhouse a few hundred yards up or down a steep hill every time you want to brush your teeth or take a shower; stepping outside the tent in the morning to a thermometer that reads 27 degrees. 

              “I could never do that!” one says.  “I’d be headed for the first Holiday Inn!” another proclaims.  Unfortunately, you don’t get the good part without the bad part.  The good parts often happen after the day-trippers head for the hotel.  Their food doesn’t come close and they pay a whole lot more for it at a restaurant than we did at the grocery store the week before we left.  They see the view once, just for a few minutes before being jostled out of the way by the next person standing behind them at the overlook.  And most hotels would frown on a campfire in their rooms.

              Keith and I are snobs about our camping.  When we camp, we live outdoors.  We don’t hide when the weather turns cold, or even wet—we can’t in a tent.  So we just wrap up and tough it out.  Oh, so superior are we.  But we have our limits too.  You will never find us at a primitive campsite.  You certainly won’t find us at a pioneer campsite.  We want our water spigot and electricity.  How do you think we handle those nights in the 20s?  We handle them with a long outdoor extension cord snaking its way inside the tent zipper to an electric blanket stuffed in the double sleeping bag and a small $15 space heater that, amazingly, raises the tent temperature 20-30 degrees inside.

              So where am I when it comes to Christianity?  Am I sold on the health and wealth gospel?  As long as good things happen to me, I am perfectly willing to believe in God and be faithful to Him.  Do I recognize the need for a little bit of trouble to prove my faith, but NOT full scale persecution or trial?  Have I come through some tough tests and now think so well of myself that I can scream to God, “Enough!” as if I had the right to lay out the terms for my faithfulness?

              The rich young ruler thought he was pretty good.  He had kept the commandments.  But Jesus knew where this fellow drew the line—his wealth.  So that is precisely where Jesus led him. 

              Do we have a line we won’t cross?  Is it possessions, security, health, family stability, friendships, comfort?  Whatever it is, the Lord will make sure you come against that line some day in your life.  You may think you are fine—why I can stay in my tent when it’s 25 degrees out!  What if the thermometer hit zero?  What if it rained, not just one day, but every day?  What if I had no running water, no hot showers, no electric blanket?  Would I pack up and head for the hotel?  Or would I tough it out, knowing the reward was far greater than even the most torturous pain imaginable in this life?

              You can’t run to the hotel and hide when persecution strikes.  You can’t close the RV door and count on riding out the storms of life.  Sometimes God expects you to stay in the tent in the most primitive campsite available.  Sometimes he even takes away the tent.  But you will still have the best refuge anyone could hope for if you make use of it, and when the trial is over, you get to enjoy the good parts that everyone else missed.
 
And another also said, I will follow you, Lord; but first suffer me to bid farewell to them that are at my house. But Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God, Luke 9:61,62.
 
Dene  Ward

Recently I had occasion in a ladies' Bible class to use an event from a congregation "long ago and far away" as an example.  As usual, I mentioned no names or places or even exact dates.  Some concepts are difficult to convey without a real-life Illustration.  Unfortunately, I have had to do that more than once during the subject we are now studying and I realized what it might sound like to the class.  I hastened to add, "I know it sounds like we went through the mill in a lot of places,  so let me tell you this too:  we have also had some wonderful experiences that I would not have wanted to miss, and met some of the best people in the world, many of whom we still count as friends."  No place is perfect—and neither are any of their preachers.

              That led me to remember the times we have been asked to leave a congregation under less than ideal circumstances.  I was young, naïve, and far too full of myself, but somehow I did remember this:  The cause of Christ is not about my glory or my feelings or even a wrong done to me and my family.  I must not do anything, regardless the circumstances, to harm the mission of the church in a specific area.  So when neighbors or family who were not Christians asked me why we left, I was very careful in what I said.  Usually, it went something like this:  "We have been here a few years and the church felt it was time for a change."  No one ever questioned me more, and I was relieved.  The gospel was not going to suffer in this area because I felt a need to cry on someone's shoulder.

              Paul is the perfect example of this.  He talked about "false brethren" in his list of trials (2 Cor 11:26).  He mentioned preaching brethren who did their best to cause him trouble while he was in prison (Phil 1:17), but he always kept things "in house."  He didn't go around telling the people he was trying to convert how awful these people he wanted them to be a part of had treated him.  That would defeat the purpose of preaching, don't you think?

              He mentions in 1 Corinthians 7 that he wishes that everyone would remain unmarried.  No, not just in the case of persecution, but even before that in the chapter.  And why?  Because you have others to be concerned about.  Though the distractions in that chapter have to do with caring for a family and persecution that might affect that family, I can apply that in a host of ways, including this one.  If a church mistreats a preacher, it is not just mistreating him, but also his wife and children.  So, he says, make sure you can handle what might come not only your way, but theirs.  Not even innocent children have the right to harm the cause of Christ.

              Paul also mentions suffering at the hands of brothers in 1 Corinthians 6.  It is a "shame" to have outsiders see us squabbling, he said.  Better to choose to suffer wrong, or even be defrauded, than have the spread of the gospel harmed by insisting on my rights in the matter.  In fact, he says that when we put ourselves forward like that we are "defrauding" the church with the consequences it brings. (1 Cor 6:7,8)

              "Discretion is the better part of valor" comes from Shakespeare's Henry IV Part 1, (sort of) and is meant to be a joke.  Falstaff is saying that keeping his mouth shut has saved his life, NOT that being quiet is the most important part of bravery.  But I think in our case, it is not a joke at all.  We are being discreet about what has been done to us because we recognize that we are not the center of God's plan to save man.  To put ourselves in that position is nothing short of arrogance, but to be discreet enough that the cause of the gospel will not be hurt takes a special sort of selfless bravery.

              We all have that obligation, not just preacher's families.  We should be spreading the word about the good things the local group has done for us, not talking up the bad.  How do we ever expect our neighbors to want to be a part of a group that we have nothing good to say about?  It is far easier—and a lot more satisfying—to be the drama queen who can raise a ruckus about my mistreatment.

              Paul's example says, "Don't do it.  Be discreet.  Put the gospel before yourself and even before your children.  If you can't, then either don't get married or don't preach."  We would all do well to remember that.
 
Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” (Rom 12:17-19)
 
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, the droughts and crop failures, 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

And I lifted my eyes and saw, and behold, a man with a measuring line in his hand! Then I said, “Where are you going?” And he said to me, “To measure Jerusalem, to see what is its width and what is its length.” And behold, the angel who talked with me came forward, and another angel came forward to meet him and said to him, “Run, say to that young man, ‘Jerusalem shall be inhabited as villages without walls, because of the multitude of people and livestock in it. And I will be to her a wall of fire all around, declares the LORD, and I will be the glory in her midst.’” Up! Up! Flee from the land of the north, declares the LORD. For I have spread you abroad as the four winds of the heavens, declares the LORD. Up! Escape to Zion, you who dwell with the daughter of Babylon. For thus said the LORD of hosts, after his glory sent me to the nations who plundered you, for he who touches you touches the apple of his eye: “Behold, I will shake my hand over them, and they shall become plunder for those who served them. Then you will know that the LORD of hosts has sent me. Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion, for behold, I come and I will dwell in your midst, declares the LORD. And many nations shall join themselves to the LORD in that day, and shall be my people. And I will dwell in your midst, and you shall know that the LORD of hosts has sent me to you. And the LORD will inherit Judah as his portion in the holy land, and will again choose Jerusalem.” Be silent, all flesh, before the LORD, for he has roused himself from his holy dwelling. (Zech 2:1-13)

              If ever a night vision should be a comfort to us in this present age, it is this one.  Yes, it also reminded those people that as long as God was on their side they needed no other protection. The temple was the priority, but when the time was right, they built the walls under Nehemiah's leadership.  But the Jerusalem Zechariah pictures here is not that ancient city.  The Jerusalem in the vision is one that experiences a population explosion like none seen before.  God's children from every part of the world--from many nations--will come into it.  God will dwell in its midst, yet we know that the glory of God that had dwelt in the physical Temple never returned to their rebuilt Temple.  Zechariah is speaking of the New Jerusalem, the one where all nations, both Jew and Gentile, would be his people, the one in which His glory would again dwell.   And I will shake all nations, so that the treasures of all nations shall come in, and I will fill this house with glory, says the LORD of hosts. The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, declares the LORD of hosts. The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former, says the LORD of hosts. And in this place I will give peace, declares the LORD of hosts.’” (Hag 2:7-9)

              And that is us, folks, the kingdom of his son, the body of Christ, the church.  Because we are a spiritual city, we have no walls, but he is telling us that we won't need them.  He will be our "wall of fire about them, there's nothing now to fear" ("Lily of the Valley," lyrics by William C. Fry).  As we approach a new age of possible, and probable, persecution, that promise should mean even more.  People all over the world have suffered.  Our turn might be coming. 

              Understand, that does not mean we won't be harmed.  But it does mean that the promised kingdom will not be destroyed, and that our reward is sure.
 
O LORD, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me; many are saying of my soul, there is no salvation for him in God. — Selah But you, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head. I cried aloud to the LORD, and he answered me from his holy hill. — Selah I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the LORD sustained me. I will not be afraid of many thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around. Arise, O LORD! Save me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked. Salvation belongs to the LORD; your blessing be on your people! — Selah (Ps 3:1-8)

Dene Ward         

Florida has some strange weather.  As a teenager in Tampa I remember looking out the front door to sunshine and warm breezes, then out the backdoor to rain.  Honestly--raining in the backyard and sunshine in the front.  At our place now we can look up to the gate and see rain while the garden is still wilting in the sun. 

              I thought about that recently when Lucas told us how his little strip of land two blocks from the beach seemed to be a dividing point in weather systems as they passed through the panhandle from the west.  He could walk outside and look south to sunny blue skies, puffy cotton ball clouds and palm trees waving in the sea breeze.  Yet if he looked north, he saw billowing black clouds lit up by lightning that occasionally streaked its way to the ground.  Take your choice of weather:  look north or look south; go out the front door or go out the back.

              Which reminds me about the essential truth of happiness:  it’s a choice you make regardless of the conditions you find yourself in.  “I have learned in whatever state I am in to be content,” Paul says in Phil 4:11.  The disciples rejoiced that they were “counted worthy to suffer,” Acts 5:41.  If that doesn’t prove that happiness is a choice, what can?

              That doesn’t mean I can face every day with a smile—I haven’t gotten there yet.  But it does mean that when I am not in a good mood, I understand it’s up to me to change myself not my circumstances.  “I can do all things through him who strengthens me;” that old timeworn citation immediately follows Paul’s assertion that contentment is a learned behavior.  He understands that although happiness may be a choice, it isn’t always an easy one—it takes some help to manage when the outward man must face pain or illness or persecution or other suffering, whether physical or mental.  If it takes the help of Christ, it must be a difficult task.

              But it can be done, and while the doing may be difficult, the how isn’t.  All you have to do is face in the right direction, “looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith,” the Hebrew writer tells us in 12:2, and then goes on to tell us how our example did it:  looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising shame, and hath sat down at the right hand of the throne of God, Hebrews 12:2.  He looked ahead to the joy, not around him to the shame and pain, the hostility and the weariness. 

              What do they teach us in our Lamaze classes, ladies?  You focus on something besides the pain.  How many of you took a picture with you that they tacked on the wall?  Then you chose to look at it.  Even then you needed a little help—that’s what those men of yours were there for.  They helped you keep your focus and count your breaths.  You chose to listen to them and follow their instructions (when you weren’t grabbing them by the collar and telling them through gritted teeth not to ever touch you again!), but yes, it worked and you got through it, and you even wanted it again before much longer because you remembered the joy when that precious little bundle was placed in your arms, John 16:21.

              Do you want a happy marriage?  Do you want a good relationship with your family and your brothers and sisters in Christ?  Do you want to greet life every day with a smile instead of a sneer, laughter instead of tears?  The weather you can’t change, but you can change which door you leave by and which direction you look.
 
We look not at the 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 Corinthians 4:18.
 
Dene Ward

May I just make a small observation from years of experience on both sides of the equation?  When you are suffering, when you are broken-hearted, when you are in pain and anguish or full of fear, someone who loves you will inevitably make an insensitive comment, a tactless comment, a mind-numbingly stupid comment.  Do you think they do it because they don’t love you any more?  No, just the opposite—they do it because they hate to see you in such pain, because they want more than anything to comfort you, and in that love and zeal they don’t know what to say, so the wrong thing pops out.

              I can make you a list of things NOT to say in various circumstances.  Why?  Because I have had them said to me in an assortment of painful circumstances in the past several decades.  You are not the only one who has been left with a hanging jaw and a shaking head.  And second, I can make that list because I have said a few myself.  I have friends who have miscarried, who have lost spouses early, who have lost children to accident or disease, whose marriage has fallen apart, who have been the one to discover a mate’s suicide, who have suffered the pain of a horrible disease and its ultimate end, and probably every time I have said something I wished I hadn’t.  I try to remember those times when someone says something similar to me—they love me as much as I loved my friends or they would never have tried.  They would have simply walked away.

              And so I will never make one of those lists that regularly make the rounds—“What Not to Say When…”  In fact, I am getting a little fed up with them.  Those lists seem to imply that the person hearing those words has never said anything dumb themselves, that they would automatically do better.  Pardon my skepticism.  I have known some wise people in my many years, but none of them has ever managed to be perfect in their choice of words every time.  I doubt that anyone in their twenties or thirties or even forties has either.  Should we be willing to learn better?  Yes.  But most of what I have heard has come in a scathing, sarcastic tone meant more to lash out than help someone else learn.

              God expects me to act like a Christian no matter what I am going through.  Did Jesus bark at His disciples the night before His death, a death He knew would be so horrible that He “sweat drops as blood”?  Did He browbeat the women weeping before the cross while He hung there in agony?  If anyone could have been excused for snapping back, it would have been Him, but the example He left was one of grace under pressure. 

              As His disciple I must still be longsuffering, no matter what I am going through.  I must “forbear in love.”  I must “bear all things, believe all things, and hope all things.”  Certainly I must be willing to say, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do,” if the thing they do comes out of a heart full of love.  It is difficult when, as the Psalmist said, My days pass away like smoke, and my bones burn like a furnace. My heart is struck down like grass and has withered; I forget to eat my bread. Because of my loud groaning my bones cling to my flesh. I am like a desert owl of the wilderness, like an owl of the waste places; I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop, (102:3-7).  I have been there.  On those days, it is difficult to put up with other people’s blunders.  It is, in fact, difficult to deal with people at all.  I am ashamed of my failures and so grateful to my caring friends and family who still showed me their love, even when I didn’t show mine and probably made them wonder why they kept bothering to try.  But I am not going to excuse myself because of my despair by attacking them with a scornful list of their failures.

              God does not put in an exception clause for when we are hurting.  Like His Son, we must still exercise self-control and love, graciously accepting the comfort that those who care sometimes ham-handedly give.  Even afflictions that have nothing to do with suffering for His name can test us as much as persecution can, just in how we handle them.  Isn’t that, in fact, the real test?  Pain is never an excuse for sin.
 
For hereunto were you called: because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow his steps: who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth: who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered threatened not; but committed himself to him that judges righteously: 1 Peter 2:21-23.
 
Dene Ward