Flight Paths

I certainly do not mean to be judgmental, but when people actually say it out loud, when they write it on facebook posts, isn’t it a matter of “by your words you will be condemned” (Matt 12:37)?
 
           Listen to the things people say about why they worship where they worship, or what makes that place appealing to them.
            “I love the singing there.”
            “The preacher is so easy for me to listen to.”
            “I feel so good when I leave.”
            “Everyone is so friendly and loving to me.”
            “They came to visit me while I was in the hospital.”

            Okay, so maybe a few of them are not terrible reasons, but do you see a common denominator in them all?  It’s all about me and how I feel.
Why is it you never hear things like this?
            “I go because my God expects me to be a part of a group worship and accountable to a group of brethren and godly elders.” 
            “I go so I can provoke others to love and good works as the Bible says.”
            “I go to study God’s Word and this group actually studies the Bible instead of some synod’s pamphlet.”     
“The sermons often step on my toes, but I want to be challenged to improve as a disciple of Christ.”

Can you see a completely different center of attention in those?  In fact, if the second list can be said to center on the object of our worship, what does that say about the object of worship in the first list?

I hear items from the first list often, but from the second seldom, if ever.  So here is my question:  If a person cannot find any items from the first list in a church, does that excuse him from the assembled worship in his area?  Of course not.

So why do we act like we are sacrificing something if the only place available has a preacher with poor speaking ability, no one who can carry a tune, and isn’t particularly outgoing?  If that is my idea of sacrificing for my Lord, I’d better hope our country never builds a modern Coliseum. 

Sometimes serving God is not a lot of fun.  Sometimes it isn’t very exciting.  Sometimes it is a lot of work with little appreciation.  Sometimes we will be ignored.  Sometimes we will be criticized.  Sometimes we will be the object of scorn and sometimes these things will come at the hands of our own brethren.  If I can’t take a boring sermon and off-key singing, what makes me think I can handle real persecution? 

If I would be ashamed for my first century martyred brethren to hear my griping about the church, why do I think it is acceptable for anyone to hear it?  Does it glorify God?  Does it magnify His church and His people?  No, I imagine it sends everyone else running from instead of running to “the pillar and ground of the truth,” the church for which “he gave himself up,” the manifestation of His “manifold wisdom” (1 Tim 3:15; Eph 5:25; 3:10).

And if somehow we could call it some sort of trial or persecution to worship with a group that is not exactly the ideal, what would the proper attitude be?  Certainly not griping about it, but rather “rejoicing that we are counted worthy to suffer,” (Acts 5:41).  Why, maybe we should actually go out and look for those places to worship! 

And if I did choose one of those places to hang my hat, would it really become any better with someone like me in it?  Make no mistake.  It isn’t about whether the kingdom of God, specifically the one I attend, is worthy of me and my commendation, it’s about whether I can ever be worthy of it.
 
For you know how, like a father with his children, we exhorted each one of you and encouraged you and charged you to walk in a manner worthy of God, who calls you into his own kingdom and glory, 1Thess 2:11-12.
 
Dene Ward

Keith and I met at college.  It took most of the first year for us to actually become an “item” because of a lot of things—mainly our differences.  Country boy vs. city girl, 24 year old ex-Marine vs. naïve 17 year old girl.  We lost count of how many people told us it would never work.   Even today, people who have met us separately and then finally see us as a couple say, “I never would have put you two together.”
 
           The campus was small so you parked and walked everywhere.  Few knew the extent of my vision problems back then.  I had learned to watch people move, and usually recognized them across campus by their walks. 

            I did not realize exactly how distinctive a walk could be until I met Keith.  I still can’t quite figure it out.  He keeps the top portion of his body completely still and swings his legs from the hips, at least that is the best way I can describe it.  Whatever it is, I recognized him from a farther distance than I ever had anyone before.  He says it has something to do with growing up on the side of a mountain.  I have seen that mountain and the remains of that old house, and it brings to mind the old joke about cows in the mountains having legs of different lengths.

            I wonder how people in the world recognize us.  Could it be that our walk gives us away? 

            John tells us that as followers of Christ, we ought to walk even as He walked, 1 John 2:6, and that would certainly make people notice.  If they don’t, then are we really behaving as we ought? If we use the same language, engage in the same activities, dress the same way, and react in the same way as the rest of the world, who exactly are we walking like?  Sounds like the rest of the world to me.

            People in the neighborhood, in the office, in the school, in the grocery store or doctor’s office should all be able to see a difference in how we behave and how the rest of the world behaves.  Yet it is not just a matter of being “different.”  They should know what that difference means.  They should be able to recognize the walk!

            It is not enough to just follow His footsteps—a lot of people do that with little or no thought.  It keeps them out of trouble, it keeps them in good standing with the elders, it satisfies them that they have fulfilled the commandments.  But a child can stand in one of his father’s footprints and then jump to the next without making a new impression in the sand.  Is he really walking like his father walks?

            What really needs to happen is the full body awareness, swinging your arms the same way, holding your head the same way, lifting your feet and setting them down the same way—everything exactly the same because now Christ lives in you.  You have reached a point where you no longer need to struggle to leap from footprint to footprint in order to stay on track.  Your walk actually fits into His.

            How are you walking this morning?  Is it a recognizable walk?  And exactly how would a stranger describe it?  If you are walking as He did, there should be no question about it.
 
If we say that we have fellowship with him and walk in the darkness, we lie, and do not the truth: but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin, 1 John 1:6,7.
 
Dene Ward

More than once I have been outside weeding and accidentally pulled up a fistful of thorns.  Usually it’s a blackberry vine, though stinging nettles are not far behind on the list.  Either one makes for pain and blood loss for at least a little while and I try hard to look a little closer before the next pull.
 
           Not too long ago I saw a picture of a plant called “Crown of Thorns.”  It’s an import to our country, a type of cactus, but one that is notoriously picky about its surroundings.  You can only grow it in Zone 10 or higher, but once you get it going, it’s nearly impossible to kill.  It is heat and drought tolerant.  Long after other houseplants would have died from neglect, it will even bloom.

            The photos I saw made me think of the crown of thorns we are familiar with as Christians, the one the soldiers wove and placed upon Jesus’ head.  I doubt it was the same plant, but it looked as I imagined that one would, a thick stem covered with long sharp spines.  I cannot even imagine trying to weave the thing without leaving yourself a bloody mess.
 
           We sing a song with these lyrics by William Featherston:

1. My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
   For Thee all the follies of sin I resign;
   My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
2. I love Thee because Thou hast first loved me,
   And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree;
   I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow;
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
3. I’ll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,
   And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;
   And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow,
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
   
4. In mansions of glory and endless delight,
   I’ll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright;
   I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow,
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
   

I missed it all my life until Keith pointed out the thirds lines of verses 2 and 4.  “I love thee for wearing the thorns on thy brow,” and, “I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow.”  Jesus wore a crown of thorns so I could wear a crown of glory.  If it was anything like those plants I saw, it was a bigger sacrifice than one might ever have thought, but the symbolism is profound because everything he went through that horrible night was for me.  And you.  Even that prickly crown.

Now, as his disciples, what sort of crown am I willing to wear for others?  Can I, as the Corinthians were chided to do, give up my liberties?  Can I concede a point even if I know I am right because in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter?  Can I stop an argument instead of continuing one?  Can I let someone else have the last word?

Can I give up my time and convenience for the sake of someone who needs an encouraging word?  Can I skip a meal to visit the lonely?  Can I miss a ball game to hold a Bible study?

Can I stay up a little later to pray a little longer?  Can I turn off the TV to spend some time in the Word?  Can I make teaching my children about God a priority instead of something we just try to fit in when we can?

None of those things will cause the kind of bloodletting those thorns did, but if I cannot even do those paltry things, how can I even hope to wear that “glittering crown on my brow?”  If that makes me uncomfortable and ashamed, good.  That’s why we sing those songs.  They are to teach and admonish, not produce feel-good pep rallies.

When I am weeding in the garden, I do my best to avoid the thorns.  Maybe in life, I should be out there looking for a few to wear.
 
And the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head and arrayed him in a purple robe, John 19:2

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing, 2Tim 4:7-8.
 
Dene Ward

In Thomas Wolfe's novel You Can't Go Home Again, George Webber concludes, "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood, ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time…"
 
           Whenever Keith talks about Arkansas, he says, “Back home.”  It used to bother me a little.  Home should be where I am, shouldn’t it?  Then I realized that I could never have the feelings of a place that he did.  I never lived in just one place as a child, and the place I lived longest is not the place I go to when I visit my parents.  They left that place a year after I married and have lived in nearly half a dozen places since. 

            It is ironic that one of my sons lives there now, the place I would have called home, but when I go visit him, it has been so long since it was home, and it has changed so much, that I never even think of it that way any more.  The longest I have ever lived in any one place is the place I live now, and as Keith and I head into our senior years, I can foresee a time, though I hope not too soon, when we will have to leave it.  Even as small a plot as five acres takes a lot of labor, and it is a long way from the folks we count on to care for us when we become too old and disabled to take care of it and ourselves.

            Christians should be careful about those feelings of “home.”  Home should never be about a place, but about people, and about Truth.  I have seen churches divide over doctrines, divisions that were necessary.  Yet people who should have known better stayed—they were converted to a place, a building, not to the Lord.

            And Christians in our society have another problem—one that the poverty stricken brethren in places like Nicaragua and Zimbabwe never have to deal with—we have become entirely too comfortable.  We are so “at home” in our rich lives that we don’t want to give them up.  Persecution, even simply the ridicule and criticism of others, is too much to bear.  There is always a good reason not to speak up when sin becomes accepted, and not to behave differently.   Even if there is no persecution, we have a problem singing, “This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through.”  This is home and we want to stay as long as possible.

            We must make ourselves see beyond the here and now.  We must force ourselves to realize that where and how we are living today is not our goal.  Eternity is difficult enough to comprehend without focusing on what is right in front of us as if it were the only thing that counted.  Here is the truth of the matter:  compared to Eternity our lives are not even a drop of water in the entire ocean. 

            Christians have the promise that one day we will never again be homesick.  Heaven is the home we have all been looking for, the place we will live forever.  We will never have to leave.  We will never sit pining and wishing for the good old days.  The “dreams of glory” Thomas Wolfe spoke of will be there and then.  But perhaps in Eternity “then” will no longer have a meaning.  It will be Now—a capital letter Now that never ends.
 
Being therefore always of good courage, and knowing that, while we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; we are of good courage, I say, and are willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be at home with the Lord, 2 Cor 5:6,8.
 
Dene Ward
 

We are well over a thousand now—and counting.  I have been writing up these little things so long I can’t watch something happen without thinking the phrase above.  In fact, more than once Keith and I have looked at one another after some oddball event and said it in unison: “There oughtta be a devo in that.”

            “Go to the ant, thou sluggard.  Consider her ways and be wise,” Solomon wrote.  “Look at the birds,” Jesus said, and, “Consider the lilies.”  Both of them taught valuable lessons from the things around them.  The parables were nothing more than every day occurrences with analogous meanings.  Parables were not uncommon in the Old Testament either, and many of the prophets taught lessons with the visual aids of their own lives or actions.  Hosea and Ezekiel come instantly to mind.

            Even the writers of the New Testament used athletic contests, farming truisms, and anatomical allegories to teach us what we need to know about our relationship with God, with one another, and in our homes and communities.  Telling stories is a time-honored and perfectly scriptural way of teaching God’s word.

            In fact, maybe if we started looking at the world that way, at the things that happen in our daily lives as if they had some meaning beyond the mundane, some deeper spiritual use, it might just be that our lives would change for the better.  It might be easier to see where we need to grow, maybe a place we need to make a one-eighty before we get much further down the road.  There is something about watching a dumb animal and thinking, “I didn’t even have that much sense,” that will straighten out your attitude.

            If I have done nothing else for you in all these years, maybe I have accomplished this.  Maybe you have learned to look at the things around you and say, “There IS a devo in that—I need to make a change.”
 
But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this? Job 12:7-9.
 
Dene Ward

But the LORD hurled a great wind upon the sea, and there was a mighty tempest on the sea, so that the ship threatened to break up. Then the mariners were afraid, and each cried out to his god. And they hurled the cargo that was in the ship into the sea to lighten it for them. But Jonah had gone down into the inner part of the ship and had lain down and was fast asleep. So the captain came and said to him, “What do you mean, you sleeper? Arise, call out to your god! Perhaps the god will give a thought to us, that we may not perish” Jonah 1:4-6.

            From what I’ve heard all my life, you’d think that the “big fish” in Jonah is the only thing worth talking about.  Our prophets class has found far more and this is just a quick overview class, nothing as detailed as verse by verse.

            The passage above may not be the first lesson we garnered from Jonah, but it is one we need more than we realize.  Here is Jonah, the only Jew, the only member of God’s covenant people, on this boat as a mighty storm threatens to engulf it and take them all to a watery grave, and he is the only one not praying.  In fact, a heathen captain has to take him to task to get him started.

            Have you ever been embarrassed by the zeal of a “heathen” friend or neighbor when that zeal should have come from you first?  Have you ever fallen to pieces while one of them calmly said, “Let’s pray about this,” and did?  Have you ever related a wonderful occurrence in your life without once mentioning the goodness of God only to have someone else “give God the glory” with every other word?  Have you ever had your door knocked on by someone looking to convert a soul when you have never even invited a friend to services?  We are Jonah, folks, far too many times.

            I would blame it on such a fervent desire to avoid false doctrine that we pushed the pendulum much too far.  I would do that except for this—nowadays I am not even sure we know which “false doctrine” we are trying to avoid.  It has simply become tradition.  We don’t do anything to call attention to ourselves, nor to God for that matter.  We want to be quiet and comfortable, certainly not “out there” with our religion, and so our God is not praised nor thanked nor acknowledged when He should be.  “We don’t do that,” I’ve heard it said.  And I, for one, would like to know why.

            None of those things is foreign to the scriptures.  You find all of them abounding in the epistles and saturating the Psalms.  God is everywhere.  What He does is always mentioned.  He is the reason for praise, for fear, for awe, and He expects us to acknowledge it. 

            Why didn’t Jonah do so?  Because he was trying to get away from God.  He was trying to avoid his mission.  He had God placed in a box in a town in a covenant land and thought if he got far enough away, God would forget about him. 

            Is that why we do it?  Are we trying to avoid God everywhere except the church building?  Is it far more comfortable to hide ourselves with silence than to proclaim our faith?   
When the world can shame my faith, can I even keep calling it that?
 
Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths, Prov 3:5-6.
 
Dene Ward

Before he was a year old, Silas started talking.  Sometimes I knew what he was saying and sometimes I didn’t.  For some reason he said, “Bear,” over and over and over.  He and another toddler at church carried on quite a conversation across the aisle with just that one word.  But there was no question at all what he meant when he looked across the room, spied Brooke, then smiled, held out both arms and said, “Mamamamamamama,” as he toddled across the floor.  No, he was not saying, “Mama.”  He was saying, “There is the most important person in the world.”  Then he looked at Nathan, pointed to the ceiling and said, “Up!”  No, that didn’t mean, “Pick me up.”  It meant, “Throw me up in the air as high as you can,” something he loved for his daddy to do.

            Mothers can decode better than anyone.  When Lucas was eleven months old, he had already been walking five or six weeks.  He often padded to the refrigerator, hung on to the door, and said, “Dee.”  That meant, “I want a drink, please.”  Nathan, at thirteen months, would hold out his biscuit half and say, “Buuuuh.”  (Pronounce that like the word “burr” but without the “r,” and draw the “u” out as long as possible.)  That meant, “Please put more butter on my biscuit so I can lick it off again.”  Needless to say, he only got a little dab of butter at a time.

            Marriages have special codes too.  “Are you wearing that?” could mean a lot of different things, depending upon the marriage.  In some it means, “I don’t like that outfit.”  In ours it means, “Oh, so I guess I can’t wear my blue jeans, huh?”  Relationships may be about communication, but that does not mean they are about hearing; they are about knowing what the words you hear mean.  Sometimes people decide they mean what they want them to mean instead of what they really do mean, and that can lead to all sorts of problems.

            Jesus is a specialist in decoding our words.  “He who searches the reins and the hearts” (Rev 2:23) can figure it out, no matter how awkwardly we phrase things.  We don’t have to worry about being eloquent in our prayers, about saying something that might be misunderstood or taken the wrong way.  People may do that, but our Lord never will.  He partook of humanity so he would understand the stresses we undergo and the turmoil they create in our minds.  He knows that things sometimes come out wrong, not because we are selfish or mean, but because we are anxious and distressed.  Isn’t that when we find ourselves talking to Him the most?

            Make a relationship with Him that will calm your worries.  Know that He is listening to your heart, not the inept words you sometimes utter.  Don’t worry about eloquence, just talk.  Let your prayers be a comfort to you today, not another source of worry.  That’s how a real relationship works.
 
Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God who justifies, who is he who condemns?  It is Christ Jesus who died, yes rather, who was raised from the dead, who is at the right hand of God, who also makes intercession for us…For there is one God, one mediator between God and man, himself man, Christ Jesus, Rom 8:33,34; 1 Tim 2:5.
 
Dene Ward

I was checking my stats last month.  It is helpful to know which posts receive the most pageviews, the most shares, and the most likes.  It is instructive to see which days of the week are most active and which are least.  It’s just plain interesting to see where my referrals come from—some strange places sometimes, real head-scratchers, but even accidental evangelism is evangelism I suppose.
 
           So in all that checking I discovered that on November 16, 2015, I had someone “unlike” a page, which I suppose means they had liked it in the first place and then changed their minds.  I think I must have hit a nerve.  Can I just say this at the beginning?  None of these posts is meant to make people angry.  I appreciate being challenged as a Christian.  I want to improve.  I simply assume that if you are bothering to read these, you do too.

            Why is it that people don’t realize what they are revealing about themselves when, as the old saying goes, “The hit dog howls?”  If the preacher’s sermon is about gossip and I become angry and show it, isn’t it obvious that I bear some guilt over that subject? 

            And here’s a novel idea—if someone steps on your toes, how about moving them?  A long time ago when I was young and extremely naïve, I actually thought that when you showed someone they were doing something wrong, they would quit doing it, especially brethren.  Now I know better. Only a few will take that high road.  Everyone else will find fault with you, tell others how mean you are, sometimes even spread lies about what you supposedly did to them.  Yes, even Christians—I use the term loosely.  Have I become your enemy then by telling you the truth? Paul asked the Galatians (4:16).  Evidently the answer is yes to some, unfortunately to many.

            And this is what they tell people about themselves:  Give instruction to a wise man and he will be still wiser; teach a righteous man and he will increase in learning, Prov 9:9.  Becoming angry over correction means a person is neither wise nor righteous, which is what that November post was all about.

            Which brings us full circle, and for all I know, will get me “unliked” again.  I guess we’ll see.
 
Let a righteous man strike me—it is a kindness; let him rebuke me—it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it…Ps 141:5.
 
Dene Ward

I have learned a lot of things over the years, among them these:  No matter how well you keep your house, the morning that you get busy with something early on and decide to finish before you dress and do the usual morning chores, will always be the morning the neighbor stops by and finds you still in your bathrobe at 11, the breakfast dishes scattered over the countertop, and the bed unmade—and the more you try to explain that this is unusual for you, the more unbelievable you will sound.  When someone tells you a joke you don’t “get,” you will suddenly comprehend the punch line and laugh raucously the next morning while standing at the checkout behind a woman who has just told the cashier that her mother has a terminal illness.  And your baby will always choose the moment after the preacher reads Hab 2:20, Jehovah is in His holy temple, let all the earth keep silence before Him, to fill his diaper as noisily as possible. 

            Part of learning how to live is learning how to cope with annoyances and embarrassments on an every day basis, realizing that you are not the only one this happens to.

            So why do we let disappointments ruin our faith so easily?  Yes, the church is God’s perfect institution, but as long as it is filled with people like you and me, it will not always behave itself perfectly.  Even the chosen twelve had a Judas among them.  Even the first Christians had a couple like Ananias and Sapphira, who gave for the praise they would receive rather than from a heart of love.  Even the first church had instances of social bias that caused uproar over the care of widows.  Yet they got over it, continuing to work and grow by leaps and bounds.  Why can’t we?

            It is good to have ideals, but be realistic as well.  God will never disappoint you, but His people will.  Until you can present to them a perfect example of righteousness, don’t expect them to do so for you.  Rather, understand that we are all growing together.

            Someone someday will lie about you, perhaps even a Christian.  Realize this—most of the time they don’t even know they are lying.  For some reason or other their attitude of depression or bitterness at that moment has put a winding road in their ear canals that twists everything they hear into something hurtful.  By the time they tell someone else what they “heard,” they really think that is exactly what you said.  You know what?  It won’t kill you.  People who know you (or the other person) will either dismiss the comment entirely or ask you about it, giving you a chance to set the record straight.  Anyone who believes it has their own problems to deal with.  In ten years, no one will care, because no one will remember.  I know.  These days it only costs me one night of sleep instead of a year’s worth of worry.  Progress!

            Stop expecting perfection where there is none.  Stop blaming God for the sins of His children.  Remember to whom you were converted—to the Lord, and not to a group of forgiven sinners who sometimes backslide.  Learn not to expect more than you can deliver yourself.  It’s a whole lot easier on your faith.
 
And he said unto his disciples, It is impossible but that occasions of stumbling should come; but woe unto him, through whom they come...For there must be also factions among you, that they that are approved may be made manifest among you. Luke 17:11; 1 Cor 11:19.
 
Dene Ward

Today’s post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
This morning as we snuggled, trying not to wake up and get up, my ear itched.  This happens more often for me than the average person because the hearing aids I wear 16 hours a day keep my ears from drying out properly so molds and mildews and other unpleasant things find a healthy habitat (for them).  I usually treat the itch with the old swimmers’ ear mixture of half & half alcohol and vinegar before it becomes an infection.  As I started to scratch my ear canal, I had a sudden insight.  When I told Dene, she said, “What?” and when I replied, “My ear itched and I scratched it and thought of Hebrews 10…”  That incongruity struck her funny bone and she laughed till the bed shook. I was so miffed that I did not tell her about it for 2 or 3 hours.

[Disclosure: This may prove there is a short-circuit in my brain instead of providing spiritual insight.]

Heb 10:5 quotes Psa 40:6 “Sacrifice and offering thou would not, but a body did thou prepare for me.” Instead of, “a body…” Psa 40 reads, “Mine ears thou hast opened” and the margin says, “Literally, ‘Ears thou hast digged for me.’ ”


Metonomy is the metaphor where a part of something is used instead of the whole, and we use it all the time.  “He’d give the shirt off his back” is not limited to clothing, much less to shirts.  Other such expressions are “a roof over my head” or, with pride, “There are my wheels,” (referring to a car).

So scholars have long recognized that in the Psalm, “ears” represents the whole body and the Spirit so interprets it by the quotation in Heb 10:5.  The insight as I dug in my ear to scratch the itch is, why did God choose “ear” to represent “body” instead of some other part such as feet or hands?

In the context of Hebrews 10, the Spirit had just pointed out that the blood of bulls and goats could not take away sins, and the next point is that Jesus is perfect to be the once-for-all sacrifice because he came to do the will of the Father.  As we learn earlier in the book, he is the perfect sacrifice and the perfect intercessor because he was made in all things like his brethren (Heb 2:17).  He did not come as a voice to command as the Son of God; he did not come as a mighty arm to rule with power, he came as ears to hear and to obey God and thus, to understand what it is to be a man so he could succor those who are tempted.
 
So, if He is to call us brethren, we must be like him, ears (Heb 2:11).   In this sense of a proper subservience toward God, it is appropriate that the whole body be an ear, for there is no place for speaking or seeing (1 Cor 12:17). 
 
Further, Jesus never commanded men: no armies, no servants.  He called, he instructed, he did not judge.  He was an ear of compassion toward sinners.  In regard to the word of God, Jesus instructed, “Take heed how you hear” (Lk 8:18).  But the example of his behavior challenges us to be cautious how we hear others.  Would sinners come to us?  Would the self-righteous accuse us of being friends of sinners?   How can we teach sinners if they see us as judges rather than compassionate ears?  Is it written by our lives that we are “come to do thy will, O God,” as it had been prophesied of Jesus?
 
Because he was meek and lowly, listening instead of commanding, we can find rest to our souls and we can rest the souls of others.
 
Keith Ward