Flight Paths

"Micah underscores the passion for God’s word the nations will have (4.1–2) and indicates that Yahweh’s word is the instrument behind coming international transformation…If that will be the case then, should not this same word be at the center of the church’s ministry now? Is Zion despising her unique treasure in our day? Has the church traded her birthright for a mess of entertainment, kids’ clubs, quilting classes, and support groups for left-handers?"

D.R. Davis, "Micah," 83–84

What if I said to you, “He is as slow as a turtle,” and then a few minutes later added, “He’s moving at a snail’s pace.”  What would you say?  I’ll tell you what you would not say.
            You would not say, “Oh, he must have hard skin,” or, “He must be slimy.”  You would not look at me in exasperation and say, “Well which one is he?!  A snail or a turtle?”  Why is it then, that we do that to the Bible when the Holy Spirit uses figurative language? 
            Usually there is only one point to a figure, whether it is as small as a metaphor or as complex as a parable.  God can call the church a family, an army, a vineyard, a kingdom, and a bride.  There is a point of emphasis for each figure.  Most of us get that one, but then do crazy things with the parables, finding and binding points where there are none, or tying ourselves into knots trying to explain why both Jesus and the apostles’ teaching are called “the foundation.”  Bible study wouldn’t be nearly as difficult if we used the same common sense with it that we do with everyday language.  That’s why the Holy Spirit used common language—so we could understand
            Eph 6:16 says faith is a shield.  1 Thes 5:8 says faith is a breastplate.  Couldn’t Paul get it right?  Yes he could, and yes he did.  Faith is either one depending upon the point you are trying to make.
            The word for shield is used only that one time in the New Testament that I could find.  In its etymology, it originally referred to the stone that covered the door of a cave.  That immediately brings to mind the stones that covered both Jesus’ and Lazarus’s tomb-caves.  The door had to be heavy so a scavenging animal could not dislodge it.  It had to completely cover the opening so that after four days, as Martha reminded Jesus, the smell wouldn’t get out.
            The word was later used for a specific type of shield—a large rectangular shield that would completely cover the soldier just like that rock covered the cave door.  What did Paul say about the purpose of that shield?  “To quench all the fiery darts of the evil one.”  Did you get that?  It covers so well and is so heavy that none of those darts can get past it.  So whose fault is it when they do?  It’s ours because we stuck something out where it didn’t belong, or completely dropped the shield. 
            Now what about that breastplate in 1 Thes 5:8?  That word is thorax which is now our English word for “chest.”  No, it doesn’t cover the whole soldier like the shield, but it does cover all his vital organs, and it does another thing as well.  A thorax was a piece of armor with two parts, covering both the front and the back.  Faith is like that.  It will help you with the attacks you see coming—and sometimes you can see your problems rushing in head-on—but it will also protect you from surprise attacks from the rear.  Sometimes life deals you an unexpected blow—“didn’t see that one coming,” we often say--but your faith can protect you from even those sorts of things. 
            So is faith a shield or a breastplate?  Faith is both, depending upon the point you are trying to make.  The thing the two metaphors have in common is protection.  God has given us what we need to stay safe.  Don’t get so busy trying to explain things that shouldn’t need explaining that you forget to use it.
 
Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Ephesians 6:11-13
 
Dene Ward

The days of our years are threescore years and ten, Or even by reason of strength fourscore years; Yet is their pride but labor and sorrow; For it is soon gone, and we fly away (Ps 90:10).
 
At times your mind tends to wander to places it never has before, but probably should have.  When you reach that general rule the psalmist talks about, "threescore and ten," it suddenly dawns on you that anything can happen any day now.  Of course that is true for any age, but now it is true many times over.  I have known people who seemed perfectly healthy in their mid-70s, but who suddenly received a grim diagnosis and were gone in a few months.  Others have been felled by a sudden heart attack, and still others simply did not wake the next morning.
            Then you begin to think about the days ahead in a different way.  I just started a new women's Bible study group.  This study usually takes 2-3 years with a class that meets every week for an hour during the school year.  But this particular group meets once a month for 90 minutes.  It could take us 8-9 years to finish.  Who is to say that I will be able to finish it?
            And then you consider your grandchildren.  My son followed his father's example and did not have his first child until he was thirty.  If his son does the same, I am not likely to see any great-grandchildren.  And that led to some thoughts about the great characters of the Bible.  Abraham lived to be 175.  Isaac was born when he was 100 and had his two sons at 60.  So Jacob and Esau did know their grandfather Abraham, and were 15 at his death (Gen 25:7).  Somehow you never think of Abraham seeing his grandchildren, much less long enough to have developed any kind of relationship with them.
            In the same vein, you can figure out, if you start at his age at death and work backwards, that Jacob was 77 when he went to Haran and 84 when he married his two very young cousins.  Doesn't that put a wrinkle in the heel of your socks!?  And, you can also figure that his first eleven sons and at least one daughter were born in a span of no more than 10 years, maybe as little as 6 or 7.  That's what happens with four wives whose pregnancies can overlap.
            Yes, my mind wanders in strange places sometimes, and what in the world does this have to do with anything anyway?  Well, you may not be my age, but you certainly know people who are there.  Probably your elders and many of the Bible class teachers in your congregation, as well some of the pillars all of you depend upon.  Where will they be in ten years?  In twenty?  Probably gone, and will you be ready to take their places?  It took them many years to gain the knowledge and wisdom they have.  That means it's time for you to begin preparing to take their places.  It's time for you to begin serious study, and to start putting it into practice while they are still around to advise you.  And if you are one of those who thinks they don't need the old fuddy-duddies and their outdated way of doing things, it's time to get an attitude adjustment while you still have someone to fall back on when you make a serious blunder or two.
            And more than that, it's time to get your life before God aligned with his Word.  You may not even have threescore and ten.  I have known far too many young men and women die before they leave their forties, some without warning.  Yes, it can happen to you, too.
            Sometimes thinking rambling thoughts can be a little silly, a little ridiculous, even.  But sometimes they can lead you where you need to go for the sake of your soul.  Sit still long enough, quiet enough, with nothing else in your hands once in a while to think them.
 
It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart (Eccl 7:2).
 
Dene Ward
 

I knew a woman once, a faithful Christian, who believed that crying over the death of a loved one was sinful.  She bravely, some would say, faced the loss of a child to a dread disease with a smile.  No one ever saw a tear leave her eyes.  I know a lot of people who agree with her, a lot of people who would applaud her as “strong and full of faith.”  I don’t.  In fact, that erroneous belief of hers affected both her physical and mental health for the rest of her life.  It also made her unsympathetic to others she should have been best able to comfort. 
            God created us and He made within us the impulse to cry, just as He made other appetites and needs.  He never expected us not to cry, not to mourn, and not to grieve.  Do you want some examples?  Abraham cried when Sarah died, Gen 23:2.  Jonathan and David cried when they realized they would not be together again in this lifetime, 1 Sam 20:41, and David cried again when he heard that Jonathan, and even Saul, were dead, 2 Sam 3:32.  Hezekiah “wept bitterly” when he heard that he had a terminal illness, 2 Kgs 20:3.  Paul wept real tears when he suffered for the Lord, Acts 20:19, and he wept for those who had fallen from the way, Phil 3:19.  Where do we get this notion that righteous, faithful people never cry?
            1 Thes 4:13 does not say we sorrow not over the death of loved ones.  It says we sorrow not as others do who have no hope.  “As” means in the same manner.  Yes we sorrow, but not in the same way.  We know something more awaits us.  Our sorrow is tempered with the knowledge that we will one day be together again, but that does not mean the sorrow ceases to exist—it simply changes. 
            I cried often after my Daddy died, usually when I saw something he had made for me, or given me, or repaired that I had thought was a goner.  He was handy that way, and I miss the care he showed for me in those small gestures.  Even now, writing these things makes my eyes burn and water just a bit, several years after his passing.  But I do not, and I have never, let grief consume me and keep me from my service to God and to others.  I have not let it destroy my faith—my hope—that I will see him again and be with him forever.
            Anyone who thinks that crying is faithless sits with Job’s cold, merciless friends.  Job did cry.  Job did ask God why.  Job did complain with all his might about the things he was experiencing, yet “in all this Job sinned not with his lips” Job 2:10.  What did he get from his friends?  Nothing but accusation and rebuke.  “Have pity upon me, oh you my friends,” he finally wails in 19:21.  Paul says we are to “weep with those who weep,” Rom 12:15.  If weeping were sinful, shouldn’t he have told us to, as Job’s friends did, rebuke them instead?  No, God plainly says at the end of the book that Job’s friends were the ones who were wrong.
            And, of course, Jesus cried.  I have heard Bible classes tie themselves into knots trying to make it okay for Jesus to cry at the tomb of Lazarus.  How about this?  He was sad!  To try to take that sadness away from Him strips Him of the first sacrifice He made for us when He carefully and deliberately put on humanity.  Hebrews says He was “tempted in all points like us yet without sin.”  That means He experienced sadness, and people who are sad cry.
            Do you think He can’t understand our specific problems because He never lost a child? 
            And when he drew near he saw the city and wept over it…O Jerusalem, Jerusalem…how often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings and you would not, Luke 19:41; Matt 23:37.  When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. The more they were called, the more they went away; they kept sacrificing to the Baals and burning offerings to idols. Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk; I took them up by their arms, but they did not know that I healed them. I led them with cords of kindness, with the bands of love, and I became to them as one who eases the yoke on their jaws, and I bent down to them and fed them... How can I give you up, O Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender, Hos 11:1-4,11.
            Anyone who cannot hear the tears in those words is probably not a parent yet.  God knows what it is like to lose a child in the worst way possible--spiritually.  Don’t tell the Lord it’s a sin to cry.
            I have seen too many people nearly ruin themselves trying to do the impossible.  I have seen others drive the sorrowful away with a cold lack of compassion.  Grieving is normal.  Grieving is even good for you, and God knows that better than anyone since He made our minds and bodies to do just that.  How much of a promise would it be to “wipe away all tears from their eyes” if He expected us to do it now?  In fact, David asks God in a poignant psalm to collect his tears in His bottle—don’t forget that I am sad, Lord.  Don’t let my tears simply fall to the ground and dry up, keep count of them--“keep them in your book” Psa 56:8.  Do you think He would have preserved that psalm for us if crying were a sin?
            If you have lost someone near and dear, if you have received a bad diagnosis, if you have been afflicted in any way, go ahead and cry.  This isn’t Heaven after all.  But don’t lose your faith.  Sorrow as one who does have hope, as the father of the faithful did, as the “man after God’s own heart did,” as one of the most righteous kings Judah ever had did, as perhaps the greatest apostle did, even as the Lord did.  Let it out so you can heal, and then go on serving your Lord.  His hand will be on you, and one day—not now, but one day--He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4
 
Dene Ward

Some responsibilities are tougher than others.  Some responsibilities deserve the word “onus,” a responsibility that is so big it is almost terrifying.
            I imagine the first time you really understood that word was when they put that tiny, squirming baby in your arms.  Suddenly you understood that it was your responsibility to care for another human being, one who was completely helpless and dependent.  It wasn’t like a friend who was having a problem so you spent some time with her and then went home to your own life again.  This was a responsibility that completely changed your life—your schedule, your budget, your chores, even your habits. 
            I bet you said, “I have to stop (blank)ing now.”  You didn’t want your child to develop those same bad habits you were always fighting and suddenly, you had the motivation to deal with them.
            I bet you sacrificed a lot of things.  Suddenly, spending an hour to put on makeup wasn’t quite so important.  Suddenly, you forgot to watch a few ball games on Saturday.  Suddenly, you didn’t need to eat out quite so often, or see so many movies, or go shopping as much.
            I bet you suddenly felt a love you never even knew existed before then, something nearly overpowering in its strength.  While the word onus means a “burden” of responsibility, I bet you never thought of it that way once.  You were happy to do those things for that precious child. 
            I was studying a few weeks ago and came upon something that put another onus on me.  Once I really understood what I was reading, I actually shivered a little and felt a peculiar sensation in the pit of my stomach.
            …That they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive remission of sins and an inheritance among them that are sanctified by faith in me, Acts 26:18.
            We are “sanctified” by faith.  Okay, so we are “set apart,” (yawn).  What of it?
            Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, Matt 6:9. 
            The Greek word for “sanctified” is the same Greek word translated “hallowed.”  We are “sanctified” just like God’s name is “hallowed.”  Do you realize the burden that places on us in our behavior?  Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, Paul says in Phil 1:27.
            Suddenly, our lives should have changed.  We should have been anxious to rid ourselves of the bad habit of sin.  Worldly affairs should have found their correct place on the bottom of our priority list.  Sacrificing for a Lord who sacrificed Himself for us should have come naturally, and an overpowering love and gratitude should have overwhelmed us.
            That’s what should have happened.  Did it?  Maybe this little reminder will help.  God expects you to be as hallowed, as sanctified, as His name is.  We always told our boys, “Remember who you are.” 
            All of us need that reminder.
            As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, "You shall be holy, for I am holy." And if you call on him as Father who judges impartially according to each one's deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot. 1 Peter 1:14-19.
            Now read all those underlined phrases one after the other.  That is the onus that is placed upon you.
 
Dene Ward

I don’t remember exactly when it was, but I remember the light bulb that went off in my head.  I have taught women’s Bible studies for well over forty years now.  We never have the hen parties or gossip fests that many are accused of.  We study. We learn.  We grow.  I am so proud of my women I could burst.
            One of the biggest blessings of sitting in a good women’s class is finding out that many marriages are like yours, and so are many husbands, at least in some ways.  That is the light bulb moment I spoke of. 
            We were studying Hannah and shaking our heads at Elkanah, who was the typical oblivious man.  Despite the fact that the scriptures call Hannah and Peninnah “rivals,” the same word used in Num 10:9, “when you go to war against an enemy,” he either didn’t notice the obvious tension in the household or he thought it trivial. 
            “Why are you so upset?” he asked Hannah.  “Aren’t I better to you than ten sons?”  That was supposed to not only assuage a bitter conflict in his home, but overcome a cultural stigma that weighed on Hannah every hour of every day.  Really?
            My first inclination was to call him an egomaniac (“aren’t I better…?”), then unfeeling, or at best clueless.  But another woman pointed out that he obviously loved Hannah.  Look at the special way he treated her, and the point he made of doing it before others when the family offered sacrifices at the tabernacle.  A real jerk wouldn’t have done that.  He was simply being a man.
            So, over the years, we have learned to point out “man things.”  We say to our younger women, “He didn’t mean anything by it, honey.  It’s a man thing.”  The point isn’t that men do not necessarily need to learn to do better, but that women need to stop judging them unfairly, as if every time they do one of those things, they are deliberately setting out to hurt them.  Nonsense!  They have no idea they are hurting you.  They love you and if they did think it might hurt you, they wouldn’t do it.  That little bit of wisdom has brought a lot of us through some tricky moments in our marriages.
            Unfortunately, we do that to one another in the church too.  It can’t be that nothing was meant about us specifically when a comment was made—it simply must have been meant as an insult or a hurtful barb.  It escapes us that we are talking about people who love one another, and even though we are supposed to be loving them too, we automatically assume the worst.  It is the worst kind of egotism to imagine that every time anyone speaks or acts they have me in mind.
            I tried to look this attitude up in a topical Bible and do you know where I found it?  Under “uncharitable” and “judgmental.”  Isaiah talks about people “who by a word make a man out to be an offender” (29:20,21).  Isn’t that what we are doing when we behave in such a paranoid fashion?  It isn’t anything new.  People have been making false judgments, jumping to the worst conclusions possible, for as long as there have been people.
            What did the Israelites say to Moses?  “You brought us out here to die” (Ex 14:11,12).  Really?  He certainly put himself to a lot of unnecessary grief if that was his purpose.  He could have just left them in Egypt and they certainly would have died as oppressed slaves.
            Eli watched Hannah pray at the tabernacle where she and her family had come to worship and accused her of being drunk (1 Sam 1:14-17).   Talk about being uncharitable.
            Actions like those do not come from a heart of love.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, 1 Cor 13:7, which means I put the best construction on every word or action of another, not the worst.  It means I am concerned about how I treat them in my judgment of them, rather than being concerned with how they are treating me.  If I am not careful, I may be the one with the ulterior motives.
 
Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses, Prov 10:12.
           
Dene Ward
 

I put the cup of coffee down in front of Keith and he looked at it disdainfully.  “What are you?  A waitress?” 

You see, I hadn’t filled it to the brim.  Since, just like a waitress, I had to carry it from the kitchen to the table, to have done so seemed impractical to me.  Despite another snide comment about “a half-full cup of coffee,” it was plenty full for carrying, about a half inch from the top.

Everyone knows what happens when you fill something to the brim and then try to carry it—it sloshes out all over the place.  In fact, whenever Keith fills his own cup, I wind up wiping coffee rings off the table and counter, and splashes in the floor because he fills it to the top.  Filled to the brim is fine when you don’t plan on carrying it anywhere—for most things, anyway.

…And they chose Stephen, a man full of faith…, Acts 6:5.

Stephen is the perfect example of a man filled to the brim with faith.  It sloshed out all over everyone who came near him.  How can you tell?  Just look at Acts 6 and 7.

Because of being full of faith, he was also “full of the Spirit and wisdom,” 6:3.  Notice:  this was before the apostles laid hands on him, 6:6, so we don’t have that excuse for a lack of wisdom and spirituality.  We can have those things too if we are filled to the brim with faith.

Because Stephen was full of faith, no one could “withstand him” when he spoke, 6:10.  And how did he speak?  He knew the scriptures.  From start to finish, he told his listeners the history of Israel, 7:1-50.  Could we come even close?

He was unafraid of confrontation, 7:51-53.  He never ran from opposition, even when it became clear he was in physical danger.  Discretion, according to Stephen, was cowardice, not valor.  We are often full of excuses for not speaking, instead of enough faith to speak out.

Stephen was completely confident of his salvation, 7:59.  He knew the Lord was waiting to receive him.  He didn’t flinch from saying so, and certainly never hemmed and hawed around about “maybe going to Heaven if he was good.”  He kept himself so that there was never any question, and his faith was probably no more evident than in that one statement, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”  Can we make the same statement?

His faith also showed by his forgiving others.  Just like the Lord he followed to death as the first Christian martyr, he asked Jesus to “lay not this sin to their charge,” 7:60.  The disciples recognized their own need and begged for more faith when Jesus told them they had to forgive over and over and over, (Luke 17:3-5).  Here is the proof they were correct—a man “full of faith” forgave his own murderers.  Can we even forgive the driver in the next lane?

What are you spilling on people?  What completely fills your heart and mind every day?  Is it politics?  Is it the latest Hollywood gossip?  Is it the stock market?  Is it complaints about anything and everything?  Is it the weaknesses of your brethren, and any slight, imagined or real, they might have done to you? 

Whatever we are full of will slosh out all over everyone who comes near us.  If we are full of faith, our lives will show it.  Don’t be a waitress when you fill your cup.

Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope, in the power of the Holy Spirit. And I myself also am persuaded of you, my brethren, that you yourselves are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, able also to admonish one another. Romans 15:13-14

And thanks to my husband for being such a good sport!  Dene Ward

We have nearly finished with our front yard.  The blue evolvulus ("Blue My Mind") is going great guns bordering the schefflera under the front windows and Judah's tabebuias are growing what looks like an inch a day.  The desert rose out by the sidewalk has more blooms than leaves.  But we wanted something nice next to the front door.
            I remembered a red hibiscus by the first house in my childhood memory.  What made the memory more special was my mother telling how I, as a toddler, thoroughly misunderstood the name and, seeing a bloom down on my level one day, asked her if that one was a "low-biscus."  Then I began to see them around the neighborhood, and found myself wanting one even more.
            We were out exploring one day after a doctor appointment, went under an overpass and found a roadside stand—vegetables and flowers.  After buying a gorgeous tomato—a one-slicer, if you get my drift—the owner took us to a "triple hibiscus."  The plant was already three feet high and sported three colors of blooms, red, yellow, and pink.  For $15 we snapped it up immediately.
            It has bloomed every day since.  But Keith, having grown up in a different part of the country with a different climate, cannot seem to get the name right.  "Have you seen your hollyhocks this morning?" he asks on a regular basis.  Knowing what he means, I usually just answer yes or no.  However, if someone else were around, I might have to correct him or they would be hopelessly confused.  I am not sure if hollyhocks even grow in central Florida. 
            So here is the point this morning.  We can look at something and call it the wrong name all the time, but that does not change what that something is.  What matters is how the Word of God defines and labels things.  What exactly is a Christian?  What exactly is a church?  What is sin?  What is marriage?  We could go on and on.  We must always be willing to call things what God calls them, what His Word defines things as.  I can deceive myself by changing the names of things, but that will not make them right, or change what they are in any sense of the word at all.
           
Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter (Isa 5:20).
 
Dene Ward
 

Last week I gave you a list of conservative scholars that you could be relatively comfortable with.  I also mentioned a conservative scholar that you should just ignore, but didn't give his name.  If liberal scholars are dangerous because of their unbiblical beliefs, then so are conservative scholars who are inconsistent in their scholarship and offer nothing beyond what other, better, scholars have.  So let me give you an example.
            This particular scholar was, for a long time, the only one of "us" who had written a commentary series.  Preachers often carried his small set of books around with them from church to church and, I am told, one even kept it next to him on the front pew!  So let me give you an example of his "scholarship."  Let's look at Genesis 3: 16-19.
            To the woman he said, “I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children. Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” And to Adam he said, “Because you have listened to the voice of your wife and have eaten of the tree of which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed is the ground because of you; in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return (Gen 3:16-19).
            In his comments this scholar completely ignores the fact that the Hebrew word for pain in verse 16 is the same Hebrew word used of the man's pain in verse 17 (both underlined above).  Regarding verse 16 he says that it is wrong to use any pain reducing medications, procedures, or methods during childbirth because God has "ordained" the woman to have pain in childbirth!  This would mean no injections, no epidurals, not even any Lamaze breathing techniques, mind you.  I hate to think what he would say about absolutely necessary Caesarean sections. 
            Now, remembering that the same word is used in verse 17, to be consistent, that would mean that men could not use weed killer, John Deere tractors, and certainly no air conditioned harvesters because men are ordained to have pain (blisters, sore backs, etc.), to sweat, and to bring forth thorns and thistles.  If not, why not?  It's the same Hebrew word in the same context. 
            Can I say about this commentary, in a borrowed phrase from someone else, "it is Zerr-ifically awful?"  Just because a man believes in God and believes that the Bible is the Word of God, does not mean he is a scholar worth your time.  Good scholars interpret consistently.  Perhaps he did not know it was the same Hebrew word, making the two judgments the two sides of the same coin, but if not, why call himself a scholar?  So check these men out, even if you know them personally, or think they are good guys.  Good guys, even good Christians, are not always good scholars.
 
Dene Ward

I started my music studio when I was 16, teaching students my own teacher had chosen for me from her waiting list.  Every Saturday, 8 little faces showed up at my door for a half hour of piano time each.    
            Unfortunately, they were not the only little faces I saw.  Regularly, their parents would say, “I need to do a little shopping.  They can play outside,” and leave their other children in our front yard, usually far longer than a half hour.  I had been taught to respect my elders and couldn’t even imagine telling them no.  I simply sat there and watched both the small pair of hands at the keyboard and the ever increasing number of children running around the maple tree, jumping up occasionally to open the door and quiet an argument or forestall an accident.  How in the world did they ever expect me to do a good job at piano teaching?
            Once I married and moved into my own home, the free babysitting stopped.  I was an adult now, and it didn’t hurt a bit that my college professor helped us all fashion “studio policy letters” that spelled out what would and would not be tolerated.  “You are a professional with a college degree (soon, anyway) so act like one and they will treat you like one,” we were taught.  No longer was I a free babysitter for the siblings during piano lessons.
            I wonder if our poor preachers and elders need to make a policy letter.  Regularly, the members, who pride themselves on “knowing better” than the denominations about scriptural practices, expect “free babysitting” from the men God has given other duties to perform.  Read Acts 20 with me this morning. 
            Now from Miletus he sent to Ephesus and called the elders of the church to come to him, v 17.  Notice, we are talking about the elders.  In the same context, speaking of and to the same men, Paul says, Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you bishops (overseers), to feed (shepherd, pastor) the church of the Lord which he purchased with his own blood, v 28.  Did you catch that?  This is one of at least two passages where all the words for elder are used in the same context.  An elder is a pastor is a bishop is an overseer, and there were always more than one in a church.  The preacher is usually not a pastor and certainly not THE pastor of the church.
             I bet you knew that, didn’t you?  But guess what?  He is not THE minister either.  In fact, it’s a mighty sorry church that has only one minister in it.  That word is diakonos and it is used a couple of ways in the New Testament.  The word simply means “servant” but there was also an official position in the church, special “servants” who had specific duties and qualifications as well.  To make the distinction between that role and the other aspect of service, something every Christian is required to do, the translators created a new English word.  They Anglicized diakonos and made the new word “deacon.”  So sometimes that word refers to those specially qualified individuals who took care of the physical needs of the saints and the church as a whole. 
            Yet far more often, that word, and certainly that concept, is used of each individual Christian, as we minister to one another and to the world.  The problem is we don’t want to be ministers (servants).  We want everyone, especially the leaders in the church, to serve us!  How in the world can we expect them to do the job God really gave them when we want free babysitting as well?
            For God is not unrighteous to forget your work and the love which you showed toward his name, in that you ministered unto the saints, and still do minister, Heb 6:9,10.  The writer is not talking to preachers in this verse, and not talking about them in the next.  You know the house of Stephanas, that it is the firstfruits of Achaia, and that they have addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints, 1 Cor 16:15.  Could anyone accuse us of being “addicted” to serving?
            Anyone who serves is a minister.  Some seem to have special abilities and perhaps we could even say they have “a ministry.” And having gifts differing according to the grace that was given to us, whether prophecy, according to the proportion of our faith; or ministry, to our ministry; or he that teaches, to his teaching; or he that exhorts, to his exhorting: he that gives, with liberality; he that rules, with diligence; he that shows mercy, with cheerfulness. Rom 12:6-8.  Some have people in their homes more than others; some teach better than others; some have a special ability to relate to the young people; some seem to know exactly what to say when people are in trouble.  Some of us just do what needs to be done when we see the need.  All of us are supposed to be ministers in one way or another, and we should all reach the point that we don’t need a babysitter any longer. 
            When someone asks you who the minister in your church is, tell them it isn’t one man.  It isn’t even someone else.  It’s supposed to be YOU!
 
But Jesus called them unto him, and said, You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. Not so shall it be among you: but whosoever would become great among you shall be your minister; and whosoever would be first among you shall be your servant: even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many.  Matt 20:25-28.
 
Dene Ward