Flight Paths

            
     What you don’t know won’t hurt you. 
             
     I didn’t know that Keith had taken Chloe’s food pan and set it in my
chair on the carport when he blew the dust off a few Saturdays ago.  He didn’t notice that she had left a few kibbles.  Neither one of us knew that a few fire ants had gotten in there and they had migrated out to my chair when he disturbed them.  I didn’t know they had started crawling into my clothes when I sat down  there until a few minutes after we walked back into the house. 
Suddenly I was ripping off my clothes and slapping myself.  I wound up with bites on my chest, back, arms, and legs, and a ring of  them around my neck.  I felt lousy  for a day or two, not to mention the aggravating itch.  What I didn’t know did in fact hurt me quite a bit. 
             
     That seems obvious, but sometimes we act like ignorance is a iable excuse for most anything.  And indeed, sometimes it is.  A new Christian has a lot to learn.  As long as he is studying and praying and trying as hard as he can to learn what he needs to be and do, his prayer for the grace of God will keep him safe.  I believe that with all my heart. 
             
     But when I have been a Christian for years and years and have done
nothing to learn and grow, or have simply stopped, that is inexcusable.  
              
     Learning new facts can be difficult, especially as I grow older.  Trying to see past the superficial to the amazing depth of God’s word can mean I must try to comprehend things I have never even thought of before.  Yet how many times have I heard “I never heard of such a thing” as the instant dismissal of a new thought in a Bible class? How many times have I heard people complain because a class was “too deep?” What a shameful thing for a Christian to say. 
             
     Then we get to the crux of the matter, for applying principles to my life can be as painful as a shirt full of fire ants.  Who in the world actually wants to know what they are doing wrong?  Why, I’ve been a Christian forty years; I’m not about to admit I still have weaknesses I need to confront in anything but a general way. 
             
     That is, however, exactly what God expects of us. The shame is that usually the babes in the Word are hungrier to learn and grow than we old-timers.  But we had better shape up, sooner rather than later, or ant bites will be the least of  our problems. 
 
     Hear the word of Jehovah you children of Israel, for Jehovah has a controversy with the inhabitants of the land, because there is no truth or goodness or knowledge of God in the land.  My people are  destroyed for lack of knowledge. Because you have rejected knowledge, I will reject you…Hosea 4:1,6.
 
Dene Ward

Every August the grapes come in, muscadines and scuppernongs in this part 
of the country. Strong flavored, thick-skinned, acidic, and seedy, they are best for jelly and juice, though true Floridians enjoy noshing on them as is.  With the boys grown now, I go through fewer peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so the jelly production has dwindled and the juice making increased, and I have discovered the easiest method for making and canning grape juice.

Put a cup or so of clean grapes in each sterilized quart jar.  Add some sugar and fill the jars with boiling water.  Process and once the lids have sealed, put them on your shelf for at least two months.  The liquid and the sugar will leach the goodness right out of those grapes.  When you open the jar, strain them out and enjoy what’s left behind.  Perhaps not as much fun as jumping into
the vat with Lucy and Ethel, but far cleaner and easier.

One day I decided to taste one of those strained-out grapes just to see what was left in it.  I should have known—it was duller and several shades paler than its original shiny purple-black, and loose as a deflated balloon. How did it
taste?  Like sour nothingness.  Maybe that’s what happens to us when we steep ourselves in the world.  
                  
Is wealth consuming your thoughts?  “Just let me have enough,” is a lie we tell ourselves.  He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves wealth with his income, Eccl 5:10.  If you allow thoughts of riches to flood your life—even if you don’t have them--anything spiritual will be washed out of your heart.  Notice the prediction God made about Israel:  But
[they] waxed fat, and kicked: you have waxed fat, you have grown thick, you are covered with fatness; then he forsook God which made him, and lightly esteemed the Rock of his salvation, Deuteronomy 32:15. Their wealth (“fatness”) covered them so that it was all they could think about.  Any notion of serving God was completely forgotten.  If you think we aren’t at risk, just take a minute and look around.  What used to be a God-fearing nation has become a people who worship wealth, power, and celebrity instead. 
                 
Other times we allow the pleasures and conveniences of this world to permeate our lives so that the mere thought of sacrificing anything, whether comfort, ease, or even opinion, will be smothered out of us. “Self” will leach the good out of hearts and minds, and leave nothing but the emptiness of indulgence.  If your “rights” spring to your lips every time someone crosses you, you have stifled the spiritual character of yielding to others, whether your
neighbors, the man in the car in front of you, or the brother who sits next to
you on the pew.  You have suffocated the spirit of mercy that marks us as His
children.  For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh...
For to be carnally minded is death… Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God, Romans 8:5-8.

But sometimes we simply drown in “stuff.” What do you do all day long?  Run from this to that to another event, none of which is evil, but none of which is spiritual either.  How do you feel at the end of the day?  Drained, probably, and maybe even quicker to fall into the sins of impatience and intolerance simply because you are so tired.  And he that was sown among the thorns, this is he who hears the word; and the care of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and he becomes unfruitful, Matthew 13:22.

What are you floating in today?  Will it make you sweet and useful to the  Master, or will it leave you an empty, useless hull of a servant, one who will be strained out and thrown away?  Let me know if you need a jar of my grape juice to sit on your shelf as a reminder. 
 
My foot has held fast to his steps; I have kept his way and have not turned aside. I have not departed from the commandment of his lips; I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my portion of food…For zeal for your house has consumed me, Job  23:11-12, Psa 69:9.

(For this recipe go to "Dene's Recipes" page)


Dene Ward

Today’s post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

We have two excellent examples of prayer in the latter part of the Old Testament. Daniel is the more famous of the two, with his habit of praying three times a day, a habit which resulted in him being thrown to the lions from which God saved him. I like Daniel's example because it shows the devotion of a busy man. Remember, at the time of Daniel chapter 6, Daniel was the leader of a council that headed all the satraps of the kingdom of Babylon (which was subject to Persia at the time). He was, in effect, the number 2 man in the kingdom behind Darius. So he was busy.

But regardless of how busy he was, he set aside time every day to pray. This is a great example for us today with our busy lives. We always have more things that need to be done, too many things, in fact. We shouldn't (can't) allow our busy-ness to keep us away from time with our God.  If necessary, schedule an appointment with God and then keep it. It's your most important appointment of the day.

The second example is less well known: Nehemiah.  As I have studied through Nehemiah the thing I have noticed most is that he prayed constantly. The account doesn't mention a regular praying schedule like Daniel’s, but at every turn Nehemiah is praying. In chapter 1:5-11 he prays after hearing of Jerusalem's sad state. In 2:4 he says a quick prayer before asking the king for permission to repair the city. In 4:4-5 he prays that God will punish those hindering the work. In 4:9 he prays when he hears of them coming to attack. In 5:19 he prays for God to remember his good deeds. In 6:9 he prays for strength to continue in the work. In 6:14 he asks God to notice the evil his enemies are doing. So, he prayed when he was sad and troubled, when he was scared, angry, worried, when he wanted God to notice his good deeds, when he needed strength, when he wanted God to remember the evil deeds of evildoers. At every turn of his life, Nehemiah prayed.

Some of these prayers were lengthy. Many were short. At least one was internal and so short the king didn't notice an undue pause. Still, at every trying time, Nehemiah prayed. What would happen if we prayed every time we were scared and worried? Would our faith be stronger and our sense of peace unassailable? What if we prayed every time we were angry? Would we sin less often? If we prayed when problems arose, would the solutions seem easier? Nehemiah is an example of a man whose faith in God was so strong that he took everything—everything--to God in prayer.

So, combining the examples, we need to set aside time to pray, time to spend communing with God.  We can't allow our busy lives to estrange us from God.  We also need to turn to God when things happen between our "appointments". We need to take all our troubles to Him. They don't need to be long prayers, but if we cast our cares upon Him our lives will be easier and we will be better equipped to keep on the straight and narrow.

I love the LORD, because he has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy. Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live. Psalms 116:1-2

Lucas Ward

My grandmother crocheted a lace tablecloth for me many years ago.  She was quite a lady, my grandmother.  She was widowed in her forties, left behind with two of her five children still at home.  She met the bills by doing seasonal work in the citrus packing sheds of central Florida, standing on her feet 10-12 hours a day, 6 days a week in season, and then working in a drugstore, a job she walked to and from for nearly thirty years.  She delivered prescriptions, worked the check-out, even made sodas at the fountain.  
             
It was a small town and once, a woman whom my grandmother knew was not
married, came in looking for some form of birth control. My grandmother told her, “No!  Go home and behave yourself like a decent woman should."  No, she did not lose her job over that.  She merely said what every other person there wished they had the nerve to say back in those days.  She lived long enough to see the shame of our society that no one thinks it needs saying any more.
             
As to my tablecloth, most people would look at it and think it was imperfect.  She crocheted with what was labeled “ivory” thread, but she could never afford to buy enough at once to do the whole piece.  So after she cashed her paycheck, she went to the store and bought as much as her budget would allow that week and worked on it.  The next week, she went back and did the same, always buying the same brand labeled “ivory.”  Funny thing about those companies, though—when the lot changes, sometimes the color does too, sometimes only a little, but sometimes “ivory” becomes more of a vanilla or even crème caramel.  The intricately crocheted squares in my tablecloth are not all the same color, even though the thread company said they were.
             
Some people probably look at it and wonder what went wrong. All they see is mismatched colors. What I see is a grandmother’s love, a grandmother who had very little, but who wanted to do something special for her oldest grandchild.  I revel in those mismatched squares because I know my grandmother thought of me every week for a long time, spent the precious little she had to try to do something nice, and, as far as I am concerned, succeeded far beyond her wildest dreams.
             
If it were your grandmother, you would think the same I am sure.  So why is it we think Almighty God cannot take our imperfections and make us into great men and women of faith?  Why is it we beat ourselves to death when we make a mistake, even one we repent of and do our best to correct?  Do we not yet understand grace?  Are we so arrogant that we think we don’t have to forgive ourselves even though God does? Yes we should understand the enormity of our sin, repenting in godly sorrow, over and over, even as David did, but prolonged groveling in the pit of unworthiness can be more about self-pity and lacking faith in God to do what he promised than it is about humility.  The longer we indulge in it, the less we are doing for the Lord, and Satan is just as pleased as if we had gone on sinning. Either way helps him out.
             
The next time you look into a mirror and see only your faults, remember my tablecloth.  When you give God all you have, he can make you into something beautiful too.
 
And God is able to make all grace abound unto you, that you, always having all sufficiency in everything, may abound unto every good work,
2 Cor 9:8.  
  

Dene Ward

            I hardly ever go to the mall.  Because our finances have always been tight, I only shop for things when I need them, otherwise it seems to me an exercise in futility.  I can’t afford to get “tired” of something.  If it works, we use it.  If it hasn’t fallen apart yet, we wear it.  Yet sometimes I have to make that trip, usually once a year, twice at the most.  The first time I made it with a toddler and a babe in arms was almost disastrous. 
              
            Both my boys were obedient little boys.  Not that they came that way—it took a lot of effort and consistent training because they both had Ward blood in them, but eventually I never had to worry about taking them anywhere.  Two year old Lucas followed along as I traipsed from store to store looking for—well, I don’t even remember now.  I had Nathan in one arm, a diaper bag on the other, and my purse over one shoulder, so there was no hand to hold on to Lucas.  He was usually right by my side, and if he suddenly disappeared, I looked back and he had just lagged a bit as we went by a particularly eye-catching display.

            Then, just as we left one of the anchor stores on the far side of the mall, and stepped into the open area, I looked down and he wasn’t there, nor anywhere close.  My heart plummeted, my stomach heaved, and my mind screamed his name before I could even get it out of my mouth.  I ran back into that store, and there ten feet inside, he was standing by a display.  What had caught his interest I don’t know--I doubt I ever knew.  I called his name and he looked at me and smiled and came running.  Me?  I knelt on the floor and somehow with a squirmy four month old and a diaper bag and a purse, I managed to wrap him up in my arms and hug him so tightly that he started to pull away.

            “You need to be careful to stay with Mommy, okay?” I managed with a slight catch in my throat, and he nodded happily.  On we went to do the necessary shopping, but my eye was on him far better than it had been before.

            I doubt very many of you have not had something similar happen to you.  It is, perhaps, the worst feeling in the world to think your child might be lost.

            It amazes me when people do not have that same horrible feeling when their child’s soul is lost.  How can you not run around calling his name and asking people for help?  How can you not agonize about it?  I want to share with you two wonderful examples should you ever need them—which I pray neither you nor I ever do. 

            We have spoken with the lost child of a close friend more than once, offered to study the Bible, and just conversed about life in general at other times.  She appreciates everything we try to do for her child, whether it works or not.  She has even told her child, when that child was mildly disgruntled about one conversation, “Isn’t it wonderful that they care so much?” which effectively put that problem to rest. 

            I keep in contact with the child of another friend.  That child is not amenable to spiritual discussions these days, but he knows I will say something every time anyway, and probably because of his good parents, he accepts my overtures in a friendly way, tolerant when I leave him with a statement like, “You know what you need to do.”  She has told me she doesn’t care what I say to her child, “Just please keep saying something.”

            Neither one of these parents allow their children to complain in their presence about the ways we approach them.  Neither one of them blames us or anyone else for the decisions their adult children made, and their children know that too.  I carry great hopes for both of those children, and for those grieving parents.  I feel like their lost children will indeed be “found” some day, partly because of the attitude their parents have managed to keep throughout the whole ordeal. 

            If you have a lost child, follow their example.  As long as you allow that child to blame someone besides himself, he will never see the need for repentance.  As long as you allow her to make excuses, whether justified or not, she will think everyone else is at fault, not her. 

            When I lost Lucas for those few minutes, I didn’t care who helped find him, or what I looked or sounded like as I went running and hollering back into that store.  I just wanted my baby safe and sound.  Can you imagine someone saying, “No!  I don’t want you to look for my child?” 

            Your child may be standing right in front of you, but if his soul is lost, he might as well be a helpless toddler lost at the mall.  Do what you need to do, and accept the help of others without hamstringing them. I lost my little boy once.  I don’t want to ever go through that again, but if I do, rest assured, I will be calling you for help to find him, and I won’t care a bit how you go about it.

But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate, Luke 15:22-24.

Dene Ward

It’s been a year since I started this blog. I would be lying if I told you I always enjoyed doing it, that it was a simple matter of sitting down a few minutes a day, and that was all there was to it. I sweat over this thing, even if I am sitting in air conditioned comfort. I put two to four hours into each entry, edit it again and again, and never feel a sense of accomplishment because I just have to do it all again tomorrow. I fret over whether I can come up with something worth your while day after day, and many times the memories this brings back, especially the mistakes, stick with me long after I sign off the computer. I wonder then if I have the mental and emotional stamina to keep it up another year after all. Yet I do intend to and if I say I will do something, I believe I must follow through. That’s the way I was raised.

Commitment has become a rare commodity in our society. Maybe it is the prevalence of instant gratification through things like credit cards (no more waiting to save up the money for something) and society’s acceptance of sexual relationships outside of the marriage bond (no more waiting for the wedding). Perhaps it has something to do with the blame game—it’s never my fault if I do not have the self-control to see something through. If the teachers had been more interesting, I would have made better grades. If the boss were more reasonable, I could keep a job. If my wife had not been a nag, if my husband had been more responsible, this marriage might have lasted.  Jesus said we should think about it before we commit to anything. He said when you commit, then run out on your commitment, you become a laughingstock. Funny how our society does not see it that way any more. Jesus did not mean to say that you should think of every possible thing that might happen before you make a commitment. Let me tell you, as many things as I considered before Keith and I married, I never in a million years imagined half of what we have been through. Shooting snakes? Chasing pigs? Milking a cow? Living without running water for a month? Bandaging bullet wounds? Sometimes I think the Lord had me wired for a different century than I wound up in.

Making a commitment means that after you consider all the possibilities, you make up your mind that no matter what happens, you will follow through as long as you are physically able. It means the same thing when we commit our lives to Him. We may never face the kind of persecution that the first century Christians did, but how are we doing when people accuse us of being full of hate just because we have standards of morality and stick with them? Are we committed enough to take that?

So on this anniversary week I am making the commitment yet again. I will write again for a whole year. Since you are reading this, I assume you are making the commitment to read. The question is, can we both become better by doing this? Commitment is nothing if growth and change do not follow.

For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who behold begin to mock him, saying, “This man began to build and was not able to finish.” Or what king as he goes to encounter another king in war, will not sit down first and take counsel whether he will be able with ten thousand to meet him who comes against him with twenty thousand? And if not, while the other is still a great way off, he sends a delegation and asks for terms of peace. So therefore whosoever of you that renounces not all that he has, he cannot be my disciple, Luke 14:28-32.

Dene Ward 

In 1854 the United States bought a rock in the middle of San Francisco Bay called Isla de los Alcatraces—the Isle of the Pelicans, originally a seabird haven founded by Juan Manuel de Ayala. On August 11, 1934, 137 prisoners were installed there in what had been turned into a maximum security federal prison--Alcatraz. Al Capone spent time there, as well as George “Machine Gun” Kelly, and Robert Stroud, the “Birdman of Alcatraz.” 36 attempted to escape and were caught. In 1962 three men did escape, and were never found. To this day no one knows if they drowned in the cold bay waters or made it to safety and successfully hid.

We don’t like to think about being a prisoner. As Americans we bridle against anything that affects our freedom, our “rights.” As Christians we proclaim that we have “freedom in Christ,” Gal 2:4; 5:1,13. Maybe we were once “slaves of sin,” Rom 6:16-18, but no longer—we are free, free, free!

Let’s just assume that we are free from sin, that we overcome more often than not, that it certainly isn’t a habit any longer. Oh, if that were the only thing we needed to free ourselves of.  

Far too many I know are still slaves of others’ opinions, of some rigid sense of dignity, and of an overwhelming feeling of inadequacy when confronted once again with the mercy of a loving God.  

Being inordinately worried about what others think is simply a brand of egotism. We are placing our own expectations of them on a pedestal. We are afraid of what they think about us, when they probably don’t think about us one way or the other. Yet we hear one statement, view one action, and suddenly we concoct a whole scenario about their opinions of us that may or may not be—in fact, probably is not—true. It rolls around in our minds over and over to the point that we cannot sleep, cannot eat, or even make ourselves sick over it. What did Jesus say to Peter when he asked about John’s future? “What is that to you?” We would do well to remember that line far more often than we do. Stop being taken prisoner by others. Fulfill your obligations to them, but do not try to take responsibility for theirs. “What is that to you?”

And then we find ourselves in the prison of dignity. I vividly remember walking through the Philadelphia Zoo on the first weekend of our honeymoon. It started to rain, and I was busy trying to find shelter “so my hair won’t get wet,” I told Keith.  

“Who cares if your hair gets wet?” he asked as he grabbed my hand and we went running down the sidewalk in the rain. We found our way back to our midtown hotel drenched, but laughing all the way. When your dignity keeps you from enjoying life, from playing with your children, from worshipping your God, it’s time you let yourself out of prison.

But the most ironic slavery we have placed ourselves in is also the saddest. Here we have a God who loves us enough to die for us, yet we tie ourselves up in knots over our inability to repay Him. Instead of joy over our salvation, we cringe when we think of our unworthiness. We try and try and try to be perfect, always knowing it’s an impossible task, and so “hope,” instead of being the “full assurance” the New Testament teaches us, becomes a miserable “maybe.” We find ourselves praying that when we die we will see it coming so we can fire off one last frantic prayer for forgiveness.  

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom, 2 Cor 3:17. Funny how some of these people who spend so much time worrying about whether they “do” enough for the Lord are some of the very ones who talk the most about the Holy Spirit. My Bible says their fretting is a sure sign they don’t have the Spirit.  

The New Testament plainly teaches that we are to have self-control. That doesn’t just apply to alcohol, drugs, gluttony, sexual immorality, and the other “fleshly” sins. For whatever overcomes a person, to that he is enslaved, 2 Pet 2:19. Did you catch that? It can be anything, whether sinful or not. A relationship, an attitude, a habit, your upbringing, your past mistakes--whatever controls your life makes you its slave—its prisoner.  

Let it go. There is truly only one Master worth serving.

"All things are lawful for me," but not all things are expedient. "All things are lawful for me," but I will not be enslaved by anything, 1 Corinthians 6:12.

Dene Ward 

Twice now I have stood in an emergency room waiting for a doctor to tell me whether or not I would be a relatively young widow, 42 the first time, 48 the second. It is amazing what changes a few unexpected moments can bring about in your attitude. Suddenly you realize what is important. Suddenly the little annoyances of living together every day disappear. You would give anything to pick up after him one more time or put up with an annoying bit of male humor. There is nothing quite like the feeling when the doctor looks into your eyes and says, “He’ll live.”

When you get that reprieve something else happens as well. The next few days, weeks, even years if you allow it to last that long, are sweeter than ever. You revel in those evenings when you can still walk hand in hand around your garden, throw tennis balls for the dogs to chase, or pick wildflowers to fill an empty vase on the countertop. You understand that an exciting life has nothing to do with going places or having things, but rather in being together for as long as possible. And you find yourself bewildered when those around you don’t get it; when they magnify petty grievances or imagined slights into relationship-breaking arguments or silences. What is wrong with these people, you find yourself thinking. Why does it take a tragedy to make us behave like mature adults?

All of us face spiritual emergencies. All of us struggle with temptations, with suffering, and with trials. Sometimes we come through those trials in good shape physically. Other times we may suffer disabilities, the loss of status or worldly goods, the loss of loved ones, even the loss of our own physical lives.

Our souls often lie behind the curtains in a spiritual emergency room. The Great Physician stands over us, comforting us, assuring us that He understands and has, in fact, borne the same woes on His shoulders. He has everything we need to get through this, including the most wonderful prognosis of all.

It will keep us from bitterness because we know that these things are only temporal and fleeting, whether it feels that way right now or not. It will keep us from drowning in sorrow because we know we will see the one we have lost again. It will keep us from throwing our faith away in a moment of despair because, when we believe his words, hope rises to conquer even the forces of Satan.

There is nothing quite like the feeling when He looks into your eyes and says, “You’ll live.”

And the witness is this, that God gave unto us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He who has the Son has the life; he who has not the Son of God has not the life. These things have I written unto you that you may know that you have eternal life, unto you who believe on the name of the Son of God,  1 John 5:11-13.

Dene Ward            

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

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

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

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

So today, if you are in the middle of a struggle, if the acid is burning your soul, look for the fat God gave you to temper it. Look for everything good in your day, in your life, no matter how small it may seem. If that doesn’t work, and sometimes it doesn’t, remember the good that will result from your testing, and don’t let it be for nothing. Don’t let Satan win. The bigger the tomato, the more mayo God smears on, if you only know where to look.

Wherefore we faint not, for though our outer man is decaying, our inward man is renewed day by day. For this momentary light affliction works for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of glory; while we look not at things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal, 2 Cor 4:16-18.

 Dene Ward 

You can learn a lot about a word by looking at its Greek original, even if you aren’t a Greek scholar.  When you see that we are supposed to be “striving” for the faith (Phil 1:27), and you find out the word is sunathleo, how difficult is it to see the English word “athlete” there?  Immediately you know that striving involves hours of disciplined training, a ton of sweat, and a whole lot of determination.  How smart do you really have to be when you discover that “faith working through love” (Gal 5:6), which uses the word energeo, means that you are to work energetically, with an attitude of “do it or bust?”

So in our continuing study of faith I found this passage:  I made supplication for you that your faith fail not…Luke 22:32.  I looked up “fail” and found this Greek word, ekleipo. 

I’ll have to admit—I saw nothing at first.  Finally I looked up other uses of the word and found, just a page over in my Bible, Luke 23:45:  the sun’s light failing.  The context was the crucifixion when, according to the verse just above that one, darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour.      

“Aha!” my feeble brain said, “an eclipse,”--ekleipo.  The light of the sun failed because something overshadowed it.  Now how do I use that in my study of faith “failing?”

Eleven years ago I woke up with what I thought was an earache.  I called the doctor and he prescribed an antibiotic.  The next morning some of the ache was gone, but enough remained for me to discover the true source of the pain—it was a tooth.  I had developed an abscess and the pain had simply radiated to my ear, but the medication at least knocked it back to its original source. This time I called the dentist and left a message.  It was late on a Friday afternoon and I needed to see someone before the weekend. 

By that time, nearly 48 hours into this, I was moaning on the couch, totally unable to function.  I hadn’t even thought about dinner, much less started cooking it, even though I expected Keith home within the hour.  I hadn’t finished putting the clean sheets on the bed, or washed any dishes all day long.  I hadn’t accomplished any bookkeeping, or filled out the forms that were soon due for my students to enter State Contest.  Nothing mattered but that aching tooth and the sore lump now swelling on my jaw line.

A few minutes later the phone rang, and I eagerly snatched it up, expecting a dental assistant.  It was an ex-Little League coach of my sons’.  Keith had suffered something resembling a seizure while riding his bike the thirteen miles home from work, and was lying right in front of his house, in the middle of the rural highway. 

“The ambulance just arrived,” he said.  “I think if you hurry, you can be here before it leaves.”

What do you think I did?  Lie back down and moan some more?  I was out of that house in a flash and did indeed beat the ambulance’s departure for the hospital.  That “seizure” turned out to be a stroke, and I sat in the hospital for five days afterward. 

You can think your faith is important to you.  You can think you would never let anything “eclipse” it.  You can be positive that you are strong enough to handle the most intense trial or the most powerful temptation.  You can be absolutely wrong.

I have seen men who stood for the faith against the ridicule of false teachers commit adultery.  I have seen women who diligently withstood the long trial of caring for a sick mate become bitter against everyone who ever tried to help them, and ultimately against God himself.  I have seen families who were called “pillars of the church” leave that very group when one of their own fell and was chastised. 

Look to that passage I found:  I made supplication for you that your faith fail not.  Jesus was speaking to Peter, who subsequently declared, “I am ready to go both to prison and to death,” but not many hours later, he denied the Lord when those very things confronted him.  He was not prepared, and his faith was eclipsed by fear.

Just as surely as my worry over my husband’s health totally eclipsed a very real and intense pain in my physical body, just as certainly as fear eclipsed the faith of a man like Peter, the events of life can eclipse your faith, causing it to fail.  Carnal emotions can overshadow you—lust, bitterness, resentment, hurt feelings among them.  It’s up to us to keep those things in their proper place, to allow nothing to detract from our faith in a God who promises that none of those things really matter because of the spiritual nature of the life to come.  It is, in fact, up to us to be spiritually minded, instead of carnally minded, to put the physical in the shade and let the light of the Truth shine on the spiritual.

With a spiritual mind-set, nothing can eclipse your faith.  Your faith should, in fact, eclipse everything else.

 If then you were raised together with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated on the right hand of God. Set your mind on the things that are above, not on the things that are upon the earth. For you died, and your life is hid with Christ in God, Colossians 3:1-3.

Dene Ward