I will say this as kindly as I can:  Young people, please be careful when you utter the above comment to anyone, especially anyone older than you are.  I doubt you can find an easier way to put your foot in your mouth.

              A few years ago, I was cleaning up my room after a Bible class when a gentleman who was new to the congregation came in.  I am still not sure why he chose my classroom, unless it was the only one occupied, and he was looking for an ear.  I am always happy to be an ear.  I have done it many, many times.  I am not sure I have always helped, but sometimes being the ear is all the help needed, and it's one of the easiest ways to serve another.

              This was not a particularly young man, not many years younger than I, in fact.  But he began in earnest to tell me about his mother dying the year before.  I expressed sympathy, and that encouraged him to continue on.  He had been in the room with her when she died.  He was practically crying by then.  "You just don't have any idea how traumatic it is to watch your mother die."

              I continued making the appropriate comments as sincerely as I could, and finally his tears dried and he left me.  What I did not say to him was, "Yes, I do know what it's like—my father died just six months ago and I watched him take his last breath."  It would not have helped anything, in my judgment, and I soon found out I was probably right.

              We were sitting at a potluck meal not a month later, right across from this same man.  He began to talk about an incident in the service when, as a guard, he had to hold his weapon on another man.  "You have no idea what it's like to think you might have to make the decision to shoot someone," a sentiment that was made at least twice as he reran the story again and again in the next ten minutes.

              Neither Keith nor I mentioned that, as a law enforcement officer, he had to make that decision more than once, and that he finally had to act on it the day he was ambushed by a convicted felon who was under his supervision. 

              Here is the thing, people:  you have no idea what some people have been through in their lives, unless you have known them intimately from birth.  Most mature people do not go around talking about the traumatic times in their lives unless they are trying to help someone else.  Most of the time they are happy to put that part of their lives behind them and dwell on happier times.  Be careful what you think they have or have not gone through, and therefore, what they can and cannot relate to.  In my younger years I learned several hard lessons exactly this way.  Everyone has experienced hardship and trauma, and over the years they have learned to deal with it.  My experience may not be exactly like yours, but I bet our lists look similar.

               Perhaps I am wrong, but, "You just don't know what it's like" seems to serve two purposes.  First, it garners attention.  Suddenly, you are the one everyone feels sorry for and comforts.  Everyone gathers around you and for at least a few minutes, you are the only one who matters.  Second, it gives you an instant excuse for whatever misbehavior you have done.  People will instantly overlook it because of what you have been through, "poor thing."

               But I will tell you that "what you have been through" is the most invalid excuse there is for sin.  You have someone who has been through exactly what you have.  He most certainly does know what it's like.  In fact, he came here for precisely that reason.  He changed who and what he was just so he would know what you have been through.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. (Heb 4:15).  We have a tendency to focus on the cross when we consider his sacrifice, but here is every bit as painful another one, and he suffered this one every day of his life.  Any time we use the "you just don't know" excuse out of an immature desire for attention or to cover our faults, we are belittling the sacrifice he made in the most arrogant, self-centered way possible.

               No one gets off easy in this life, not even God's children.  To expect otherwise is to deny the curses of Eden.  It's supposed to be hard because we blew it.  The only way you can say otherwise is to claim to be sinless.  You don't get Heaven until this World is over and done with.  You may get a taste of it here and there in a good marriage, great kids, and loyal brethren, but then again, you may not.

              But we all have the best help imaginable.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you... (2Cor 12:9).  "Sufficient"—enough for any need you may have. 

               None of us has reason to say, "You just don't understand" to Him.
 
Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.  For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Heb 2:17-18)
 
Dene Ward

Psalms 74 and 79, along with the books of Lamentations and Habakkuk, which are also national psalms of lament over the destruction of Jerusalem, will make you cringe in their horrific detail of destruction.  Women and young girls raped, leaders hung up for all to see, the Temple in ruins, dead bodies lying everywhere, far too many for the few left alive to bury. 

              Psalm 74 lists sacrilege after sacrilege:  God’s enemies standing in the meeting place; the intricate and artistic carvings of the Temple chopped to pieces by heathen axes, the sanctuary on fire, the dwelling place of God razed to the ground.  Psalm 79 uses opposites to the same effect:  the holy defiled; Jerusalem in rubble; God’s servants as carrion; and blood flowing like water in the streets.  Imagine seeing all this one horrible morning and then speaking to God in these words:  Help us, O God of our salvation, 79:9.

              God of our salvation?  How could the psalmist possibly use that description?  Where in all this nightmare does he see salvation?

              The poet understood this basic truth:  even in this dreadful event, God is still seeking the salvation of His people.  He could still see a Father’s love behind the most severe discipline.

              Again in Psalm 74, the psalmist says, Yet God is my King of Old, working salvation in the midst of the earth.  Not just in the midst of the earth, but in the middle of all this horror, he can still see the true nature of God.

              Habakkuk in his lament ends with the same thoughts:  For though the fig-tree shall not flourish, Neither shall fruit be in the vines; The labor of the olive shall fail, And the fields shall yield no food; The flock shall be cut off from the fold, And there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in Jehovah, I will joy in the God of my salvation. Hab 3:17-18.

              What do we see when evil befalls us?  If all we feel is the pain, if all we see is the sorrow, Satan already has a foothold.  We must learn to use what happens in our lives as a steppingstone to Heaven, a lift to a higher plane of spirituality. 

              Surely it isn’t always punishment from God as it was for those people, but then it becomes even more important to see events in the correct way.  We are in a world that is temporary, that is tainted with sin.  Of course we will have problems.  Are we so naïve as to think that something Satan has poisoned will ever be good?  Jeremiah tells us in his lament, that if it weren’t for God there wouldn’t be anything good left in this world at all, Lam 3:22, and we have no right to expect it to be any different. 

              If I cannot see the salvation of God even in the midst of trials as Jeremiah did, I am blind to who He is.  He is there, helping us prepare for a world where those things will be no more.  If I rail against Him when the trials come, I do not know Him.  Illness and death are the tools of Satan to lure us away, but with faith and the proper perspective--seeing the God of our salvation instead of the God of our pain--we can use Satan’s own tools against him as a road to triumph. 

              It is better to depart and be with the Lord, Paul said, Phil 1:23.  To die is gain for a Christian, v 21.  “O death where is thy victory, O death where is thy sting?  The sting of death is sin and the power of sin is the Law, but thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” 1 Cor 15:55-57)  If I see death as the victor, I am giving myself away—showing that my perspective is indeed unspiritual, immature, and faithless.  

              Is it easy to have this perspective, especially in the middle of a traumatic life event?  No, because we are still in this flesh.  But while in this flesh the Lord Himself conquered all these things and expects us to follow His example, as difficult as it may be.  And He gives us the means to do it. 

              He is and always will be the God of our salvation.
 
But as for me, I will look unto Jehovah; I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me, Mic 7:7.
 
Dene Ward

We just bundled several services for a better price and more items.  In fact, the price we were quoted for four services was what we had before paid for two.  We asked every question we could think to ask.  Everything sounded good and we were thrilled.

              We just got the first bill.  I spent the next half hour on the phone trying to find out why this bill was 30% higher than I was told it would be.  Easy one, as it turns out.  The quote I got was the base price and did not include taxes, surcharges and all sorts of fees.   

             I was not happy. Yet, after I sat down and refigured everything, we were still getting four services for the price we had formerly paid for three.  We are still saving money, which was the reason for the whole switch.  Everything had become higher than our new retirement budget allowed and now, despite my disappointment, we are still under budget. 

              Don’t you just hate fine print?  I would much rather know what the total price is, not be surprised with it when the first bill arrives.

              Jesus did not believe in fine print either.  He laid it on the line. 
              “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.”
              “I came not to bring peace but a sword.”
              “Go and sell all you have and follow me.”
              “If any would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
              “You shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake.”
              “Some of you will be put to death.”
              “If you do not repent, you shall all likewise perish.”
              “Go thy way and sin no more.”

              Jesus told everyone what to expect.  He never sugar-coated it.  He never promised wealth and ease in this life.  What he did promise was a life of bliss and glory--in Eternity, not in Time.  And it isn’t a bait and switch.   

              He never said you won’t be persecuted.  In fact, he told his people to count on it.  He told them to rejoice when they were badly treated.  It puts us in good company.  “For so persecuted they the prophets before you.”

              He never said wealth would accompany our conversions.  In fact, he called wealth a danger to our souls. 

              He never said we would be healthy; that no trials of life would ever touch us.  He simply said, “I know how you feel.  I will not forsake you.”

              Jesus spelled it out.  We can know the final bill before it ever arrives.  If we are shocked because we have to suffer, then we just ignored what we did not want to hear.  He never tried to hide it.

              He also told us exactly what He will give us.  I am still getting a good deal on my little bundle, but it doesn’t compare to the deal I get with the Lord.  What the Lord offers is beyond our imaginations.  Even the words God uses for our frail intellect cannot express the glory that awaits a child of God.

              Go ahead and sign the contract.  You won’t have a nasty surprise in the mail.  And if you have signed already, remind yourself of the bundle that awaits you, especially if you are in the midst of trials now.  It is well worth the cost.
 
His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant: you have been faithful over a few things, I will set you over many things; enter you into the joy of your lord. Matthew 25:23
 
Dene Ward
 

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