Flight Paths

Our study of faith on Tuesday mornings continues to amaze us.  When I first handed out this 68 page, 15 lesson study that had taken me an entire summer of toil and sweat to produce, the women looked at me a little dubiously.  Faith is supposed to be easy, a first principle, so to speak.  How could you possibly come up with this much?
            Did you ever look up “faith” in a concordance?  All I did the first three days was write down scriptures.  I wound up with twenty pages.  I spent the next two weeks reading those scriptures and jotting notes about them that would jog my memory when it came time to organize them, which took another two weeks.  Then another week’s study gave me possible lesson titles, and in a few more days I sorted the scriptures I had found into those lessons.  Then I finally started writing lessons.
            In the process things changed.  Some lessons were divided in two.  Shorter ones were merged to create one longer one.  Questions were constantly in flux, created, edited, sometimes deleted altogether, other times expanded to two or three. 
            As I worked it became clear to me that we have shortchanged “faith” in our Bible studies.  It has become simply the first stairstep in the Plan of Salvation chart so many of us grew up memorizing.  When you really study it—I mean, twenty pages of scriptures, folks!—it is far more important.  In fact, I wound up calling our study, “Faith:  Stairstep or Staircase?” 
            As we ended lesson 8, “Faith in Hebrews 11,” which I bet you have never in your life studied the way we did, something else became apparent to me.  I had inadvertently put these lessons in a good order.  “Inadvertent” is not really accurate though; I did think about the order and rearranged them more than once, but as we have continued, it has become clear that the sequence has worked out beautifully.  I was certainly not inspired, but God’s providence has worked in its usual wonderful way, and through no fault of my own, these things are fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle.
            Can I share one “for instance?”  The lesson right before the Hebrews lesson was actually two, “Faith in the Book of Romans,” parts 1 and 2.  (Keith wrote those since Romans is one of his specialties.)  At the end of the lessons we drew this conclusion: our faith is not in a what but a who.  It is not in the promises of God, but in the God that made those promises.  Abraham believed God and it was counted to him for righteousness, Rom 4:3. 
            Do you see how much better that is?  When you believe in the who, the what automatically follows.  Of course the promises will come true—God made them!  [Abraham was] fully convinced that God was able to do what He had promised.  That is why his faith was counted to him for righteousness, 4:21.  Believing in the “Who” leaves no doubt at all about “what” you will believe.
            Then as we moved on into Hebrews 11 we took it a step further.  Our faith in God must eventually become a personal faith—we don’t just believe God; He becomes “our God.”  That increased depth in our faith makes God not only proud of us, but willing to be “our God,” and to have that personal relationship with us.  Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, the writer says in 11:16. 
            And what does that do for you?  It effects every action, every word, and every decision you make when the relationship between you and God is personal.  What did Joseph say to Potiphar’s wife?  “How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?” Gen 39:9.  He may not have said “sin against my God,” but you get the feeling nevertheless.  To sin against God would have been a personal affront.  You don’t get that motivation to stay pure if your faith has not reached that level of closeness with your Creator.
            Instead of just ripping through the list in Hebrews, we really looked at the actions of those great heroes. “By faith” Enoch walked with God, Isaac blessed Jacob and Esau, Jacob blessed his sons, Joseph mentioned the exodus before he died.  Wait--those are courageous and daring feats of faith?  No, they are just the words and deeds of men who believed God when He made His promises, and whose belief imbued every part of their lives.  Isaac, in recognizing that God had been in control when he (blindly) wasn’t, refused to change his blessing.  Jacob in his blessings to his sons embraced the entire promised future of Israel, from the conquest of the Promised Land to the coming Messiah.  Joseph spoke assuredly of the future exodus and his desire to be laid in that Land.  And Enoch?  He just lived every day as his God wanted him to, walking with his God in a personal relationship that made every action and decision obvious instead of an internal struggle.  Faith is believing God; faith is believing my God.
            And so we will continue on in our study.  It has become exciting to see each new aspect of an old and neglected issue. 
            “Faith only?”  Well, that depends.  Is it one step in your life, one instant of “Now I am saved,” or even, “Now I can move on to the next step,” or is it, as it was for those ancient patriarchs, the entire staircase that lifts you to Eternity?
 
For all the peoples walk each in the name of its god, but we will walk in the name of the LORD our God forever and ever. Micah 4:5
 
Dene Ward

Keith loves tomatoes, which accounts for the fact that we have 95 tomato plants in our garden.  In the summer, his supper is not complete without a heaping platter of sliced tomatoes, assorted colors and varieties—Better Boy, Celebrity, Big Beef, Golden Girl, Golden Jubilee, Cherokee Purple—all full sized, some even the one-slicers:  large enough for one slice to cover a piece of bread. 
            So when the first tomato ripened this year and he let me have the whole thing to myself everyone was amazed.  “What a generous husband!” some exclaimed.  Then I told them the rest of the story.  It was a Sungold Cherry tomato, more like a grape tomato, less than an inch in diameter.
            “What a generous husband!” they again exclaimed, with a slightly different inflection on the “generous.”
            It was a joke and everyone knew it, including Keith.  How sad that so many do not see the joke when it’s the tomato they’ve been offered.
            Do you want wealth and fame?  Here, have the whole tomato.
            Do you want career, status and power?  Here, enjoy this, it’s all yours.
            Do you want pleasure of every kind, fun, and excitement?  Here, it’s ripe and ready and yours for the taking.  Eat every bite.
            Isn’t life wonderful?  Isn’t the world an amazing place?  Isn’t the ruler of this world the most generous being there is?  Don’t bet on it. 
            Look at the size of that tomato again.  Now look at what you lose when you accept it:  family, love, redemption, hope, your soul.  My, how generous that offer was—one measly little bite that is gone in an instant for the price of everything eternal.
            That tomato may taste pretty good.  It may be the best one that ever grew in any garden anywhere.  But I’d rather take my Father’s offer—He has a whole garden to give me.
 
And he showed me a river of water of life, bright as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the midst of the street thereof. And on this side of the river and on that was the tree of life, bearing twelve manner of fruits, yielding its fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. And there shall be no curse any more: and the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be therein: and his servants shall serve him; and they shall see his face; and his name shall be on their foreheads. And there shall be night no more; and they need no light of lamp, neither light of sun; for the Lord God shall give them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever, Revelation 22:1-5.
 
For what shall a man be profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and forfeit his life? or what shall a man give in exchange for his life? Matthew 16:26.
 
Dene Ward

I don’t know what we would have done without hand-me-downs. 
            Lucas survived his infancy on borrowed baby clothes, but that young mother soon needed them again so there were no tiny clothes to pass down to Nathan.  At that point we were living by a children’s clothes factory and could go to the outlet store and buy seconds for as little as fifty cents each.  Each summer and each winter I dug my way through a mountain of irregulars and managed to find three shirts and three pairs of either shorts or long pants, according to the season.  Sometimes the colors were a little odd, like the “dress” shoes I bought for Lucas when he was two—maroon patent leather with a beige saddle—but they covered his feet for $1 and no one was likely to mistake them for another child’s shoes.
            Then, just as they reached school age, we found ourselves in a church with half a dozen little boys just three or four years older than they.  Suddenly my boys’ closet was bursting.  They were far better dressed than I was, and they had even more waiting to be grown into.  They didn’t mind hand-me-downs and neither did our scanty bank account.
            Keith and I have followed suit.  Probably 75% of my clothes are hand-me-downs, and the rest I picked up at consignment shops and thrift stores, with only a handful of things I bought new, always off a clearance rack.  Keith has more shirts than he could wear in a month—we didn’t buy a one of them.
            When you get a hand-me-down, sometimes you can’t wear it as is.  Sometimes it’s my own personal sense of taste, meager though that may be.  Sometimes it’s a size issue.  I have been known to take up hems or let them out if the giver was taller or shorter than I.  I almost always remove shoulder pads.  I have wide shoulders for a woman and shoulder pads make me look like a football player in full gear.  If the collar has a bow, a scarf, or high buttons, those go too—I hate anything close around my neck and it makes my already full face look like a bowling ball.  So while I gratefully accept those second hand clothes, I do something to make them my own.
            Which brings me to handed-down faith.  Being raised in the church can be both a blessing and a curse.  Being taught from before you can remember means doing right becomes second nature.  There is never any question where I will be on Sunday morning because I have always been there.  There is never any question what I will do when it’s time to make a choice that involves morals or doctrine.  There is never any question about my priorities—my parents taught those to me every day of my childhood, both in word and deed.
            Yet God will not accept any faith that is not my own.   Yes, He was with Ishmael for Abraham’s sake, Gen 17:20; 21:13.  To those who are dear to His children, but who are not believers, God will sometimes send material blessings, 39:5, and physical salvation, 19:29, but He will not take a hand-me-down faith until it becomes personal, Ezek 18:1-4.  I have to reach a point where I know not only what I believe, but why, and that faith must permeate my life as I lead it, in every situation I find myself in, in every decision I must make, but at the same time come from my heart not habit.  If I have not reached that point, what will I do when my parents are gone?  Will my faith stand then?  Or will I be like Joash, who did just fine as long as his mentor Jehoiada the priest was alive, but fell to the point of killing his cousin Zechariah, a prophet of God, when he was finally left on his own? (2 Chron 24) 
            Pass your faith on to your children, but your job doesn’t end there.  Help them make it their own.  Let them tear out those shoulder pads and lengthen those hems.  It really isn’t a compliment to your parenting skills if all they can do is mimic you while you are still alive to keep tabs on them.  You might in fact be limiting them by demanding exact conformity to every nuance of your own faith.  Their faith could very well soar farther than you ever thought about if you let them fly.
            But the real test comes when you are gone.  Can you rest well with the job you have done?
 
I think it right, as long as I am in this body, to stir you up by way of reminder, since I know that the putting off of my body will be soon, as our Lord Jesus Christ made clear to me. And I will make every effort so that after my departure you may be able at any time to recall these things. For… we have something more sure, the prophetic word, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts, 2 Peter 1:13-15, 19.
 
Dene Ward

A few years ago Keith dug up a plant he found out in the field far from the house, surrounded by stinging nettles and poison ivy.  He had thought it looked like something besides another weed.  When I rubbed the leaves between my fingers and sniffed, I discovered it was spearmint.  So I potted it and put it next to my herb bed, where it comes in handy every so often, and grows so bountifully I have to give it a haircut once in awhile.
            Imagine finding a useful herb in the middle of a patch of useless, annoying, and even dangerous weeds.  I thought of that mint plant a few days ago when we studied Rahab in one of my classes.  I have written about her before, and you can read that article in the Bible people category to your right, “The Scarlet Woman and Her Scarlet Cord,” but something new struck my mind in this latest discussion. 
            God told Abraham his descendants would not receive their land inheritance for another 400 years because “the iniquity of the Amorite is not yet full,” Gen 15:13-16.  The people of Canaan, the Promised Land, were not yet so wicked that God was ready to destroy them, but the time was coming. 
            If there is a Bible definition for “total depravity” perhaps that is it:  “when their iniquity is full.”  That had happened before in the book of Genesis—to Sodom in Genesis 19, and to the whole world in Genesis 6 when God saw that “every intention of the thoughts of [man’s] heart was only evil continually” (v 5), another fine definition for total depravity.
            Both times God brought about a complete destruction—except for a tiny remnant that we can count on our fingers in each instance. That means that when God finally brought the Israelites into their land, the Canaanites’ iniquity was “full” and those people must have been every bit as wicked as the people of Sodom and the world in general in Noah’s day. 
            Yet right in the middle of Jericho, the first city to be conquered, a harlot believed in Jehovah God.  A harlot.  Would you have bothered speaking to her if she were your neighbor, much less invited her to a Bible study?  But she outshone even the people of God in a way that made God take notice of her.
            Thirty-eight years before, when those first 12 spies came back from their scouting expedition in Numbers 13, ten of them, the vast majority, gave a fearful report.  Look at the words they used:  “we are not able;” “they are stronger than us.”  Look at the words Rahab used when she spoke to the two later spies:  “I know the Lord has given you the land;” “our hearts melted and there was no spirit left in any man…because the Lord your God he is God.”  The earlier Israelites raised “a loud cry,” “wept all night,” and “grumbled against Moses and Aaron” (Num 14:1-4).  Rahab sent the spies safely on their way and hung a scarlet cord in her window, patiently waiting for the deliverance promised by two men she had never seen before in her life, but whose God she had grown to believe in with all her heart.  The difference is startling.  If you didn’t know anything but their words and actions, which would you think were children of God?
            And a woman like this lived in a place determined for destruction because its iniquity was “full,” plying a trade we despise, living a life of moral degradation as a matter of course.
            Who lives in your neighborhood?  What kind of lives do they lead?  Rahab had heard about the God of Israel for forty years (Josh 2:10), assuming she was that old—if not, then all her life.  Have your neighbors heard about your God?  Have they seen Him in your actions, in your interactions, and in your absolute assurance that He is and that He cares for you, even when life deals you a blow?
            Do your words sound like the faithless Israelites’ or like the faithful prostitute’s?  Would God transplant you out of the weeds into the herb garden, or dig you up and throw you out among the thorns and nettles where a useless plant belongs?
            Don’t count on the fact that you aren’t a harlot.
 
Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” Luke 18:10-14.
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Laurie Moyer.

Your integrity is one of the most foundational elements of character that you can possess. To be known as a woman of your word creates a reputation that is a city on a hill and light in the darkness. This is the desire of Jesus (Matt 5:14-16) because it gives all who see your good works the opportunity to glorify God. A few verses later He said oaths are not needed for one who has proven that a simple “yes,” or “no,” is all that is required to establish the truth of what they say. How does this happen? It is grown over the course of experience and time. A reputation is not built overnight, and your integrity is also a cumulative reflection of the choices of your life.

The rain cloud in this picture is that it only takes one break of integrity to ruin your reputation. One moment of weakness and inconsistency will counter-act years of pattern behavior. Good habits reinforce making the right choices, but once broken, it is easier to lapse the next time. Praise God that He has said He will forgive our trespasses when we repent! Our mistakes do not need to define our future. Our reputation, however, may take a bit longer to regain. Our pride does not like to be reminded that we have sinned, but we must not ignore failures if we want to learn and grow from them.

You have a reputation with your children, as well. They trust and rely on you. When they are hurt or in distress they come to you for comfort. The accomplishments of their simple world are brought to you for display. “Look what I can do.” Do not tarnish that trust. Their hearts think in such simple terms that a broken promise is not so easily understood with lengthy explanations. When you tell them things you need to be determined to follow them through. I cannot count the number of times I have heard a parent threaten a child in public with punishment in some form and then watch in horror as misbehavior continues and nothing happens. Why do we lie to our children this way? Perhaps these parents never intended to carry out punishment in the first place, but thought the mere threat of pain or deprival would intimidate the child. Why should it? If a child has been conditioned to receive empty threats and wiggle out of them, why should they their parents ever mean what they say? Do not try to bully your child into obedience.

Sadly, when we, in good faith, give a consequence to misbehavior and then retract that punishment later for any reason we are saying the same thing. No, we are not perfect. We may fully intend to do something that circumstances prevent. Those moments we must deal with as they occur and perhaps the best method is to be more careful in what we say in the first place. To say, “We plan to go to Grandma’s house next week,” leaves room for changing circumstances and, more importantly, for the will of God to play out in the daily areas of our lives. James 4:13-16 warns us not to presume to be the one in charge of every future moment. Indeed, it is better not to make promises you cannot keep.

On the other hand, when we say, “If you don’t finish your dinner you don’t get dessert,” we have made a law that we both must live by. It does not matter that it was an impulsive thing to say or that it seemed easier at the time it was spoken. If you are going to dangle sweets as an incentive in front of your child, your “understanding” of why they did not comply does not remove the fact that it happened. Sympathize. Resolve not to be that rash in the future, but you must keep your word...

We have all made mistakes in setting standards for our children. When this happens, admit it to them. If you have wronged them, apologize. Tell them you want to do better. If your rules have changed tell them what the new rules will be from this time on, and resolve to work together to be a family that pleases God.

Laurie Moyer
Taken from Searching Daily a blog by Doy Moyer
 

I was "raised in the church" as we are wont to say.  It may not be a completely accurate way of expressing it, but we all know what it means.  My parents were Christians and I have been in a meetinghouse with the saints since I was old enough to be carried there.  I grew up going to Bible classes and memorized all the lists—the books of the Bible, the apostles, the judges, the sons of Jacob, etc.  And I grew up hearing various proof texts so often I could recite them to friends at school.  I will not demean any of that because, frankly, I wonder if I would have ever heard the Gospel any other way in our culture.  In fact, I know others who heard it the same way I did, but who left it as soon as they were adults.  That should tell us something—there is more to it than hearing it all of your life.  You have to see it every day in the ones who teach you and I certainly did.
            As I have grown older and more versed in the Scriptures, especially the context of passages I have always used completely out of context, I have come to a deeper understanding of things.  Some of those things might cause others to squint their eyes in consternation or even be ready to denounce my being a "true" Christian.  But really, if they would seek the context of who and what I am after all these years, surely they would be more charitable—or maybe not.  That is one thing I have realized over the years—we are not only uncharitable to people, we sometimes go out looking for things to be uncharitable about.  We are ready for a fight with anyone, even those who do not wish to participate in one.
            Remember this passage?  For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says Jehovah (Isa 55:8).  Of course you do.  Like me, you have probably used it to counter any and everyone who does not agree with us on any and every issue.  That is not what that passage is talking about.  Look at the immediate context.  My ESV uses the heading "The Compassion of the Lord" at the beginning of Isaiah 55.  Of course it is Messianic and is talking about the kingdom to come, which will no longer be Jewish only, but will contain peoples of all nations.  "Nations" is what the Jews called Gentiles, just as "goy" is the Yiddish word for Gentile and literally means "nations."  Verse 5 begins ​ Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know, and a nation that did not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, and of the Holy One of Israel… (Isa 55:5).  And in that context we have this:  Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. ​For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isa 55:6-9).  The higher thoughts God has are thoughts of mercy and forgiveness.  Ours are so often judgmental, even damning, instead.
            Before anyone jumps in, I do realize that this context also includes repentance (verse 7), but I have seen us set ourselves up as judge of whether even that is sincere or not.  We go on and on about whether a deathbed confession will work, about whether someone who has failed more than once in the same way truly means it "this time."  I passed on the good news of an apology once only to have it snorted at because "she didn't really mean it" when the "snorter" wasn't even there to hear it.  Unlike our Father, who is anxious and ready to forgive, who looks down the road hoping to see his lost child return, we are all too ready to chuck anything that doesn't meet our own specifications as a confession, a repentance, or an apology.
            I was taught all my life that it was wrong to think God could ever save anyone who was a sinner.  Why it took me decades to figure out that if such were the case it would mean not a single one of us, not even those of us who think we are doing fairly well, could be saved either, I am not sure.  Not a single Bible hero, as we call them, was without sin.  Some were pretty awful, in fact.  But because God is the one who decides these things, and His thoughts are higher than ours, we find that they are among the saved, the forgiven.  Look at the sermons in Acts.  Look at Hebrews 11 and Romans 4 and so many other places where those people are used as examples we should follow.
            And because of that, I am willing to pray for mercy toward those many would tell me I have no right to pray for.  If I am to have thoughts like my Father's shouldn't I do that?  Or will we continue to be so far beneath His thought processes that we pray for judgment instead?  Perhaps that is why so many of us think we have no chance at salvation unless we see death coming and can shoot off a fast prayer for forgiveness.  But even that proves we understand the point—God forgives when man so often does not.  Shouldn't we, as children of God, be better than that?
 
Remember your mercy, O LORD, and your steadfast love, for they have been from of old. Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for the sake of your goodness, O LORD! (Ps 25:6-7).
 
Dene Ward
 

We first encountered a coreopsis when we planted several packets of wildflowers and a few sprang up along the edge of our mown field.   These two foot high plants held bright yellow ray flowers on bare stalks above lance shaped leaves.  “Tickseed” I found as its colloquial name because its hard flat black fruit resembles a tick.
            Although they still spring up here and there nearly fifteen years after that original planting, they are sparse and tend to congregate on the southern edge of the field, shining like the occasional light bulb in a sea of green grass and weeds.  They had just started blooming in early May when I spent my entire morning walk with Chloe talking to God about a particularly thorny issue.  I had just asked for what seemed impossible. 
            It has taken me years to reach this point.  The church of my day spent nearly its entire existence fighting false doctrines, certainly a noble cause.  False teaching can steal souls as easily as the temptations of an increasingly carnal culture.  But we often forgot to balance those teachings with the truth, jumping far beyond it to a place of certain safety, where we were so far from the ravenous wolf in sheep’s clothing that we fell into the pit of despair instead.  Yes, miracles have ceased, but that doesn’t mean that God no longer works in the world or that my prayers will not be answered.  Yes, the Holy Spirit operates through the Word He inspired, but that doesn’t meant that I will not receive help from an avenue He has set in motion.  Providence, we call all of those things—normal natural occurrences that seem to come at the most opportune times.
            And so I was walking along the path, pulling my way with those now ubiquitous trekking poles of mine, along the back fence, probably fifty feet from the nearest--and loneliest--coreopsis, turning on its southwest side by a stretch where we had sown none of them, and none had ever before appeared.  When things do spread, they always go north-northwest, certainly never south, especially in the summer.  Yet suddenly, right there before me stood a bright yellow beacon where it should not have been.  It was so unexpected I came to a complete halt and called Chloe over, as if she too should have cared.  Coming as it did so surprisingly, just after that impossible request, I was instantly reminded that God can do the impossible, and my spirits soared.
            No, I am not a mystic, or a believer in such things.  But I am reminded of a sermon Jesus preached once, where it seems he glanced up and surely must have seen a flock of birds on the wing, so he said, “Behold the birds of the heavens,” and a few minutes later when he surely must have seen a nearby patch of flowers and said, “Consider the lilies of the field.”  Jesus had no problem at all using the natural world to teach His lessons.  Why can’t I use the natural world to remind me of lessons I need at a particular time?
            I have a friend who loves butterflies.  As she endures cancer treatment she often says, “God sent me a butterfly today.”  She had looked outside and seen one flitting around in her flowerbeds.  That butterfly reminded her that God cares for her, just as Jesus reminds us, Look at the birds of the heavens, that they sow not, neither do they reap nor gather into barns, and your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are not you of much more value than they? Matt 6:26. 
            God has created an amazing natural world to teach us if we will but pay attention.  Solomon used that natural world in the wisdom God gave him.  And he spoke three thousand proverbs; and his songs were a thousand and five. And he spoke of trees, from the cedar that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springs out of the wall; he spoke also of beasts, and of birds, and of creeping things, and of fishes. 1 Kings 4:32-33.  If we deny this creation of God its ability to edify and encourage, how are we any different from the pagan who denies that it proves God’s very existence in the first place?
            Pay attention to what lies outside your door today, the birds and lilies, the butterflies and the out of place, bright yellow coreopsis.  As it turns out, God did answer my impossible prayer that day, in almost exactly the way I had asked.  Who am I to try to explain that away?
 
Jesus looked at them and said, "With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God," Mark 10:27
 
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,” especially 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

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

When examining how Jesus spoke to people, there seems to be two reactions, neither of which promote growth.  The first follows this pattern:  "I know that Jesus spoke bluntly, but you aren't Jesus so you can't speak to people that way!"  This seems wrong on the face of it because of passages like 1 Cor. 11:1  "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" and 1 Thess. 1:6  "And you became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you received the word in much affliction, with the joy of the Holy Spirit".  No, none of us are Jesus, but we are told in multiple passages to imitate Him, so I should speak as He did, even if that means being curt.  However, some *ahem* plain spoken men like to declare that Jesus was often brusque to justify blasting away with no regard for the situation, the hearer, or anything else.  This also seems wrong because of passges like Col. 4:6  "Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person" and 2 Tim. 4:2  "preach the word . . . reprove, rebuke, and exhort"  Colossians teaches us to "know how you ought to answer" which surely implies that there are right and wrong ways.  Salt is used as a flavor enhancer in food, so words seasoned with salt means what I say is tailored to "taste" as good as possible to the hearer.  Paul is telling Timothy that there are times for reproval and rebuke, but also times for exhortation.  We must know the situation.  So, how do we follow Jesus' example?  Perhaps we should start by examining it more closely.

Jesus and the Religious Leaders.
          While we might expect Jesus to try to impress these men, or win them over to His side, Jesus does the opposite.  In John 3, when Nicodemus came for a private discussion, Jesus doesn't try to gain a political friend.  Rather, He challenges Nicodemus:  “Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things?  Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you do not receive our testimony.  If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things?" (vs. 10-12)  In John 6, when the religious leaders peppered Jesus with questions, a categorization of His answers shows His claims were intended to blow up the religious paradigm they clung to.  Famously, in Matthew 23, Jesus declares them all to be hypocrites.  Pretty rough stuff.

Jesus and His Followers.
          Was Jesus desperate to hold onto the disciples He had and to grow their numbers as quickly as possible?  Not if how He spoke to them is any indication.  In John 6, as many of the crowds are shocked and leaving because of the "hard saying", He turns to the Twelve and asks "“Do you want to go away as well?” (vs 67)  Surely, an unequivocal challenge.  Jesus uses the phrase, "O ye of little faith" four times.  Twice to the twelve and twice to the crowds that came to listen.  On at least two other occasions, He referred to the twelve as having "little faith".  Very stern.  (I betcha someone's feelings got hurt. *Gasp!!*)

Jesus and the Sinful Masses.
          Surely, these were the people who needed the stern rebukes.  And yet in Mark 2, Jesus eats with them and tells the Pharisees that it is the sick that need attention and He wasn't here to call the righteous.  In Luke 7, He shows great compassion to the sinful woman whom the Pharisee didn't even want nearby.  In John 4, in dealing with the Samaritan woman with five ex-husbands Jesus was frank, but kind.  He certainly didn't blast away. 
 
          So, what can we learn from this brief examination?  Jesus was often blunt, but His caustic comments were reserved for those who should have known better, and who had raised themselves up as leaders of God's people while ignoring the principles of God's law. He was stern with His followers who weren't keeping up due to lack of effort.  He was kind, compassionate, and merciful to outsiders who were beginning to seek a way out of their sinful lives.  As imitators of Christ, if we were to follow this example it would go along way to us being frank and kind as the situation merits. 
 
Matt. 9:15  "And Jesus said unto them . . ."
 
Lucas Ward

     "Can you tolerate these meds?" 
     I sat there a minute, stunned.  What did she mean, can I tolerate them?  Did I have a choice if I wanted to keep my vision?  No, I did not.  So, of course I could tolerate them.
      "Well, some people can't, you know," she probably added because I looked so confused.  I had always thought that if there were an easier way, then that's what they would have given me rather than these battery acid drops that made me climb Keith like a tree as I put them in.  "So they stop taking them," she finished.  And what? I thought.  Go blind in short order?  Evidently.
     Before one of these painful, complicated surgeries a few years back, the doctor looked at me and said, "You're going to have to be tough for this to work." We were just over two weeks into recovery when I found out what he meant.  But this is the bottom line.  Do you want to see as long as possible?  Yes, I do.  Then you will have to endure some difficult, extremely painful things, and for a good while.  And I have.  That’s how much it means to me to keep seeing, to be able to keep studying, writing, and teaching.  And that's how much it means to me to see my babies, to watch my grandsons grow up just as I watched my sons, to watch birds flit from tree to tree, to see the new blooms on the triple hibiscus, the rose, and the gardenia, even to watch that little anole blow up his red balloon of a throat.  I really do not understand anyone who cannot steel themselves enough to do what has to be done so that all those things can happen.
     Anyone who has endured an injury or stroke and the following physical therapy knows exactly what we are talking about here.  But do you want to walk again? Do you want to talk again?  Do you still want to be as independent as possible?  Then you have to hurt.  You have to push yourself and you have to be tough.  Whining won't make everything go away.
     I think we need to have that same mindset spiritually.  Too many times we jolly people into conversion, which turns out to be anything but because they give up at the first impediment—the first time any pain is involved.  We don't want it to be too hard, and then when it is we wonder why they left.  We don't want to run them off before they even get started, which it turns out, is just delaying the inevitable because they came in thinking everything in life would be perfect now.  But Jesus demands a commitment from the beginning that is on a par spiritually with any sort of painful physical medication and therapy we could imagine. 
     And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said to them, If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it (Mark 8:34-35).
     Notice, he wasn't just talking to the Twelve, people who had been with him for a while and understood.  He was talking to the crowd, the people who were just following him around, listening.  He did not limit this to people he felt would be better able to handle it.  He said, "Anyone."  He thought they should know from the beginning the commitment he expected.  Deny yourself, crucify yourself, lose your life.
     In another place, As they were going along the road, someone said to him, I will follow you wherever you go. And Jesus said to him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head. To another he said, Follow me. But he said, Lord, let me first go and bury my father. And Jesus said to him, Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God. Yet another said, I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home. Jesus said to him, No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God. (Luke 9:57-62).  What!?  Didn't Jesus know you have to gradually, carefully bring someone into the fold, not hit them in the face with reality?
     We need to toughen up, people.  When I won't listen because "I find that offensive," I am no better than a patient whining to his doctor because physical therapy hurts or the medicine stings.  "But you hurt my feelings when you tell me I have to give up these things and change."  These are the wounds of a friend, but we have no tolerance for anything but candy-coated platitudes (Prov 27:6) because that is what we were taught to expect by people who meant well, but were wrong.  Just like with this horrible eye medicine, you have to hurt (repent/change) before you can get well.  Do you want to get well, or not? 
     And we need to be honest with the ones we are trying to gain for the Lord.  Jesus demands a commitment, one that may mean sacrificing things that are precious to us.  But by not agreeing to those sacrifices, we are showing him that he is not that important to us.  Family is more important, friends are more important, status is more important, money and lifestyle are more important, and we just can't bear to lose all of that.  It just "hurts" too much.
     And just like those with a physical problem who will never heal, neither will those who are spiritually sick.  Yes, we all know that He says, Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.  (Matt 11:29-30).  But we completely ignore that there is still a "yoke" and a "burden."  It is lighter than Satan's load if we truly commit to it, but he never promised a life without pain.  
     Like my doctors have told me, the Great Physician also says, Do you want to be a disciple of Christ?  Then you will have to be tough.
 
After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him. So Jesus said to the Twelve, Do you want to go away as well? Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life,  (John 6:66-68).

Dene Ward