THE LAND BEYOND THIS POINT IS WILDERNESS—TRAVEL WITH CAUTION

This sign greeted us as we headed out that morning.  On the board next to it were other warnings about bears, snakes, poisonous plants and insects, and one that said, “Between October 11 and May 1 hikers should wear bright colors.  Whistling is also recommended.”  Various hunting seasons began and ended during that period, bow hunting, black powder, rifle and shotgun, used during the various game seasons.

Still we hiked on.  We had seen all these warnings before in the many years we have camped and hiked.  The only dangerous game we’d ever seen was the back end of a black bear as he plodded steadily away from us—the best view of a bear there is in my opinion.  Still we were careful.

The wilderness can be a scary place if you are careless or arrogant.  Besides the bears, snakes, and panthers, paths follow the edges of steep precipices with no guardrails should you lose your footing.  Limbs litter them, having died, rotted, and fallen at a slight breeze.  Once one fell not ten seconds after I had walked that particular spot.  Runs drivel down the slopes, ready to rush into a flash flood should a rain come up, as it often does.  It does not take much to remind you how helpless you are.

Keith says that one of the Louis L’Amour westerns tells of travelers leaving piles of rocks to the Native American gods of the trail.  No one with an open mind can spend any time in the outdoors without recognizing that it took Divine Intelligence to create it.  Twice we passed piles of stones laid on boulders or stumps, a hundred or more, some carefully positioned on end, so they did not just happen to roll there.  Our society, I have heard, has gotten more spiritual as of late, but why has that spirituality turned toward paganism like the gods of the trail, instead of Jehovah God?  Is it more interesting, more fun?  Or is it that paganism carries no moral responsibility to its gods other than a token nod to their supposed existence?

Jehovah God expects certain behavior from us.  He requires our service.  He demands our lives.  And He deserves so much more. 

Some day soon take a walk in the wilderness, or even just your backyard, and let it teach you all about Him.

For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hinder the truth in unrighteousness; because that which is known of God is manifest in them.  For the invisible things of him since the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even his everlasting power and divinity, that they may be without excuse; because that, knowing God, they glorified him not as God, neither gave thanks, but became vain in their reasoning, and their senseless heart was darkened.  Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for the likeness of an image of corruptible man, and of birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things.  Wherefore God gave them up…Rom 1:18-24

Dene Ward

Our hike took us to the top of a mountain and back, and several times over a creek or brook, none more than a foot or two deep, but plenty deep enough to get cold and wet if there had been no bridge.

The first bridge was a wooden plank affair with handrails, nothing fancy, but solidly constructed.  We walked across it without thinking about it one way or the other—it was a bridge, it filled the need.

The next “bridge” was a bit more challenging.  Large stones led across the brook and kept your feet dry as long as you kept your balance.  But the stones were solidly set and not slippery, so aside from having to think where to put your foot on each one, it was not too difficult.  Still, it did take some thought.

The next also had stepping stones, but these were wetter, which meant slicker, and one teetered when you put your weight on it.  If not for my trusty trekking poles, I would have had wet feet, if not something a bit larger wet as well.

Then came the fourth “bridge.”  Even Keith made a noise when he saw it up ahead.  The Georgia Department of Natural Resources had laid four logs across the brook.  Not flat planks, mind you, but rounded logs;  not large logs, but more like fence posts—small fence posts;  not tied together, but each about four inches apart, just far enough for a foot to slip through.  With my weak ankles and poor vision, they might just as well have asked me to walk a tightrope. 

Keith said, “Had you rather get wet?”

I did not dignify that with an answer.  I just started across—slowly sliding my feet an inch or two at a time.  Don’t tell me that the faster you go, the easier it is.  You are talking to a klutz, remember, a half-blind one at that!  Those seven or eight feet seemed more like seventy or eighty, but I only slipped once, and by then I was close enough to the other side that Keith could reach out and steady me. 

As we continued on I reflected on the fact that the “bridges” were getting less and less like real bridges, and was pondering what might come next.  One log that rolled as you walked?  I found myself praying, stepping stones please, even ones that teeter, but no more logs!

Funny how a hurdle you manage later in life makes the earlier ones seem so much smaller.  But which of us would begin weight training with a 200 pound weight or run a marathon the first time we ever jogged? 

Don’t you know that our Father is watching out for us?  A life without any trials would leave us weaklings.  But He is careful:  the first bridge we cross will make us strong enough for the second, and the second for the third, and so on throughout our lives.

As it turns out those four logs were the last bridge on our trail.  God knows which bridge is the most difficult we can manage at any given time.  Especially the last one.

There has no temptation taken you but such as man can bear; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that you are able, but will with the temptation make also the way of escape that you may be able to endure it, 1 Cor 10:13.

Dene Ward

The first day of our camping trip we warmed up with a one mile nature trail labeled “easy, a half hour walk.”  And it was.  The trail was wide and smooth, the grades so minimal you “stepped” up rather than climbing.  Many educational signs along the way gave you a natural respite as you stopped to read.  We were shocked when it ended so soon, and we—meaning me, mainly—had energy to spare.

So the next morning we set out on the trail labeled “moderate—four hours travel time.”  Either “moderate” has changed meaning or the past two years have taken more out of me than I thought.  Most of this trail ran either straight up or straight down, with stone “steps” matching the natural rise or drop of a six foot or more man, not a five-four or less woman.  Rocks and tree roots paved the way, except for a few places lined with slick wet leaves just begging for a big piece of cardboard so you could sled down them.  But for women my age, anything even resembling a fall is to be avoided at all costs no matter how much fun it might look like.

Three and a half hours later we emerged from the woods, puffing and panting.  Every muscle below waist level ached.  I hit the camp chair with an Aleve and a cold soda.  If this was their idea of moderate, I did not think I was quite up to the one labeled “strenuous, more than a full day’s hike.”

So why do I put myself through this?  I could give you a lot of answers.  After a hike like that, pure water tastes like nectar.  Food is delicious, even the simple fare cooked over a campfire.  Crawling into a warm sleeping bag is heaven and you sleep like the proverbial log.  When you stay busy and wear yourself out with it, you enjoy even the simplest pleasures far more, and griping about your lot in life is no longer even in your vocabulary, at least for a day.  I am sure you can make that application for yourself.

But also, I made up my mind several years ago that as long as I could, I would, because the longer you do, the longer you can.  I am trying now to apply that to everything, not just hiking.  It is one thing to grow old gracefully.  It is another to lie down and die at a time of my choosing instead of God’s, when there is plenty more for me to do, even if I must be a little creative and extra-observant to see it.  Growing old gracefully may mean that when you come steaming along behind me, I give you room to pass, but don’t expect me to completely step off the trail out of your way!

I find it unfortunate that the translators chose the word “talent” as in “The Parables of…” in Matthew 25.  It creates a mindset that has us deciding whether or not we are capable of doing things.  Those pieces of money do not represent “talents” as in abilities.  Jesus himself said the talents (money) were distributed “according as each had ability,” so they cannot be the same thing.  Those pieces of money represent opportunities.  God gives us opportunities according to our abilities.  He will not give us opportunities we do not have the ability to handle.  We have no right to say, “I don’t have the talent (ability) to take this opportunity.”  God knows we do or He would not have sent it.

The same is true as we age or become disabled, and grow physically weaker.  God may give us fewer opportunities, opportunities that are not as showy or public—like picking up the phone to call a shut-in, giving a word of encouragement, or simply being a consistent example of faith and endurance.  But whatever the opportunity, He expects us to take advantage of it.  God expects us all to live by this motto:  As long as I can, I do.     

And having gifts differing according to the grace that was given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of our faith; or serving, let us give ourselves to our service; or he who teaches to his teaching; or he who encourages to his encouraging, or he who gives let him do it with liberality; he who rules with diligence, he who shows mercy with cheerfulness, Rom 12: 6-8.

Dene Ward

We have just returned from the first “normal” camping trip we have been able to take in four years.  “Normal” means we camped in the mountains for five days and we hiked.  Those quotation marks mean we carried a pile of medications and a doctor’s letter explaining my problems, along with three cards detailing all the hardware in my eyes.  They also mean I was careful not to overdo it. 

Because of all this, Keith bought me a pair of trekking poles from an outfitter.  At first I thought he had spent an exorbitant amount of money for two sticks.  Then I used them.  With two repaired Achilles tendons and reduced vision, my usual klutziness on mountain trails has increased exponentially.  My ankles easily turn and twist on rocks and roots, and I trip over anything that sticks up even half an inch off the ground simply because I cannot see it.

But these poles made all the difference in the world.  The cork handles conform to your fingers with a knob that keeps them from sliding, and a flat top on which your thumb rests and from which you can help yourself with a little boost.  Two straps wrap around your wrists—if you somehow lose hold of a pole, you do not even need to bend over to pick it up.  With just a twist you can shorten or lengthen them, not just to suit your particular height, but whether you are going uphill or downhill as well.

I did not stumble once.  I did not twist either ankle.  Keith did not need to drag me up a single hill or catch me as I rolled down one.  And we made what was labeled a four hour hike in just three and a half.

I am not too proud to say I used trekking poles.  Should you make a habit of hiking even once or twice a year, you should get some too, especially if, like me, Grace is not your middle name.  It’s no shame to need a little help once in awhile.  In fact, I am told avid mountaineers who could hike rings around me backwards and blindfolded use these things.

So why are we so ashamed to ask for help spiritually?  Why is it such a big deal to admit we might be wrong about something or have a fault?  Why is advice from those who are more experienced seldom sought and even less often taken?  Why are we always letting our pride get in the way of our soul’s salvation?  Even the strong need a hand once in a while. 

Find yourself a pair of friendly poles to make the trek with you.  You will be glad you did, and much more likely to make the end of the trail.

Then came Amalek and fought with Israel in Rephidim.  And Moses said to Joshua, Choose us out men and go out, fight with Amalek; tomorrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in my hand.  So Joshua did as Moses had said to him and fought Amalek; and Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill.  And it came to pass when Moses held up his hands that Israel prevailed, and when he let down his hands, Amalek prevailed.  But Moses’ hands grew weary; and they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat thereon, and Aaron and Hur held up his hands, the one on the one side and the other on the other side, and Moses’ hands were steady unto the going down of the sun.  And Joshua overwhelmed Amalek and his people…Exodus 17:8-13.

Dene Ward

I mentioned once before a certain fifth grade class I taught, and the lesson we had on 2 Peter 1:5-7.  In trying to explain these characteristics, the requirements of being a Christian as they preferred to call them, I did a lot of word study.  Three of those words, and the way the children chose to make applications of them, have especially stuck with me after all these years.

Look up “virtue” in a Greek dictionary or lexicon and you are likely to find the phrase “moral excellence,” but this does not do a thing for a ten-year-old or for many adults either.  I finally came up with “doing right because it is right, not because someone is watching or you are afraid of the consequences.”  Or as the children put it, “Virtue is when you want to be good.”  They easily came up with example after example.  Probably my favorite was, “It isn’t virtue when you slow down to the speed limit because you see a police car.”  Children can be brutal!

Another word we looked up was “knowledge.”  We all feel so lacking here.  It was such a relief to discover that this use of the word signifies an active searching and desire for the truth—something even the newest Christian can have—and very often has more of than the one who has been sitting on his pew for forty years.  The children understood right away that this word was not a measure of knowledge but of devotion, and came up with examples even more easily than they had for “virtue.”  Just how often do we sit down for some real study, not just a read-through?  Do we spend more time in front of the TV than we do with our Bibles?  Are our Bible class lessons done as faithfully as our “homework?”

Then there was godliness.  How many times have I heard this defined as “a short form of godlikeness?”  Children these days are so worldly wise that even they understood that you cannot make an argument based on the construction of an English word when the word was originally written in Greek!  Godliness means my entire life is focused toward God.  Everything I say, think, or do must put Him first.  If I make any decision in life without first asking how it will affect my service to God, I am not godly. 

The children’s example?  If deciding to buy a new car means I cannot give as I should to the Lord, then I should not buy a new car!  Simplistic, you say?  Too much “this world?”  Well, they were only children after all, but doesn’t their example clearly show how godliness should pervade our everyday lives?  And isn’t that exactly what we adults have the most trouble with—applying spiritual principles to specific circumstances in our everyday lives, even when it hurts? 

Virtue, knowledge, and godliness:  hard to define?  Not to a ten-year-old.  Hard to do?  That depends on us.

Virtue: Servants, be obedient unto them that according to the flesh are your masters with fear and trembling, in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ; not in the way of eye-service, as men-pleasers, but as servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart, with goodwill, doing service as unto the Lord, and not unto men, knowing that whatever good thing each one does, the same shall he receive from the Lord… Eph 6:5-8.

Knowledge: Putting away therefore all wickedness, and all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and all evil speaking, as newborn babes long for mother’s milk, you long for the spiritual milk which is without guile, that you may grow thereby unto salvation.  1 Peter 2:1,2

Godliness:  For they that are after the flesh mind the things of the flesh, but they that are after the spirit, the things of the spirit.  For the mind of the flesh is death, but the mind of the spirit is life and peace.  Rom 8:5,6

Dene Ward

Living in the country has meant adapting.  In many ways it has been good for me.  The city girl found out she could learn and change, even though change is a thing I have never liked.  I love routine.  Now, after 32 years, it isn’t change, it’s just a new routine, and that helps when I have had many more changes in the past few years, and see more coming.

One of the things I learned quickly was to make sure I had everything I needed to get by for the week.  A sixty to eighty mile round trip, depending upon which side of town what I need is on and how many other places I have to stop as well, doesn’t happen more than once a week even if you did forget the bread or run out of milk.  You learn to do without. You don’t change your mind about the menu unless you already have on hand the things the preferred dish needs.  When an unexpected guest arrives and you want to offer a meal, you put another potato in the pot, double the biscuit recipe, and get out another package of frozen garden corn, and if you didn’t plan dessert that night, you put the home-canned jellies and jams on the table.  So far, no one has complained.

I have learned to be organized.  I do everything in one visit, and usually that coincides with a doctor appointment or a women’s Bible class.  I keep track of everything I run out of, or run low on, as the week progresses, and buy it all in the order that uses the least gas.  I keep staples well stocked.

I have also learned that I don’t have to have everything I think I do.  The only store close to us is a tire store, about three miles down the country highway.  The man has been in business for 40 years.  Our children went to school with his, and somehow he has made a good living selling tires in the smallest county in Florida just outside a village that might have a population of 100 if you count the dogs.   But as far as shopping, it doesn’t do much for me.  You can’t try tires on, they don’t do much for the home décor, and window shopping is the pits.  So I don’t “shop.”

Sometimes we become slaves to our culture.  We think we must wear certain things, go certain places and do things in a certain way because everyone else does.  We shop and buy because everyone does, not because we need it.  We go see the movies that “everyone” has seen.  We buy a cell phone because “everyone” has one nowadays—“it’s a necessity.”  We run down to the store every time we run out of something instead of carefully making a list of what we need and taking care of it in one, or at most two trips a week, wasting precious time and costing ourselves more money than we realize.  Everyone does, we say.  Maybe we should stop and think about that.

Why?  First, because it never crosses our minds to be different than everyone.  Is it sinful?  Maybe not, but then why does something have to be sinful before I am willing to look at it and decide whether it is best for me and my situation?  Why am I so afraid to be different?  A Christian should have a mindset that is always looking at things in different ways than the rest of the world.  If I decide this is the best way to live (and not sinful), then fine, but I should, at the least, think about it.  Christians who always act without thinking will eventually do something wrong some time in the future. 

Second, we are to be good stewards of everything God gives us, including time and money.  If we saved a little time, could we use it in service to God?  Could we offer help to someone in distress?  Would we have more time for visiting the sick and studying with neighbors?  If we saved those few dollars every week, could we give more to the Lord?  Could we help someone in need more often?  Could we be the ones who take a bag of groceries to a family in distress because that day we could buy for them instead of running to the store for yet something else we forgot?

But we aren’t really talking about running down to the store here.  We’re talking about attitude and priorities—about doing the best we can for our Master in more than a haphazard way.  Paul says we are to “purpose,” or plan, our giving.  I have no doubt that doing so ensures a larger donation than merely waiting till the last minute to see what’s left in the bank or the wallet.  The same thing will be true if we plan our prayer time, study time, and service time.  Instead of running out of time for any of it, we will find ourselves making a habit of the things God expects of us.

In a parable Jesus praised the steward who was “a faithful and wise manager,” who was always working, always serving, and able to get the appropriate things done at the appropriate time (Luke 12:42).  Those servants, he goes on to say, are always ready for the master’s return.  Are we ready, serving and working as many hours a day as possible as faithful stewards, or are we so disorganized that judgment day will find us at the checkout for the fifth time in a week, just to pick up a bottle of ketchup?

As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies--in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. (1Pe 4:10-11)

Dene Ward

Because of health circumstances, my teaching has been limited lately, but I remembered the other day a certain fifth grade Bible class—students who are now in college or out working in the world.  (My, how time flies!)  We studied a workbook that used that old standby phrase “the Christian graces,” describing the passage in 2 Peter 1:5,6. 

Although this phrase is nowhere found in the Bible, when one grows up hearing things over and over, one tends to accept them without question.  Before teaching that lesson I decided to check a dictionary.  Imagine my surprise to discover that use of the word “grace” meant “an embellishment, adornment, enhancement, or garnish.”  In other words, graces are something not essential to the entity in question, but which make it more attractive.  Like that parsley next to your steak dinner at a restaurant—it just makes the plate pretty.  The steak is still a steak without it.  Are we still Christians without these characteristics?  Is that what we want these children to believe about Christianity?

Even my fifth-graders were able to pick out these phrases in the context of the list:  they make you to be not idle or unfruitful, v 8; he who lacks these things is blind, v 9; if you do these…you shall never stumble, v 10; thus you shall be richly supplied…the entrance into the eternal kingdom, v 11.

And the traits which do this?  Virtue, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness, love.  Can one be a Christian without loving others?  Without controlling himself?  Without persevering to the end?

Maybe some of us treat these things like parsley on our plates of Christianity, but my fifth-graders decided that we should call them “the requirements of being a Christian.”  I think they are right.  Truly, out of the mouths of babes…

Yes and for this very cause adding on your part all diligence, in your faith supply virtue, and in your virtue knowledge, and in your knowledge self-control, and in your self-control perseverance, and in your perseverance godliness, and in your godliness brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness love.  For if these things are yours and abound, they make you to be not idle or unfruitful unto the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.  For he that lacks these things is blind, seeing only what is near, having forgotten the cleansing from his old sins.  Wherefore, brethren, give the more diligence to make your calling and election sure, for if you do these things, you shall never stumble, for these shall be richly supplied unto the entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  2 Peter 1:5-11.

Dene Ward

I never had much trouble sightreading piano music.  You read the note, you find it on the piano, and you play it.  I wasn’t perfect by any means—trying to read music and translate that to a mental keyboard in your mind and then have your hands immediately go to the correct place on the real keyboard in just a matter of milliseconds takes a quick mind and perfect eyesight, neither of which I had even then.  But for the most part I was a good music reader and got the job done, even if I did have to slow the tempo down so I could play in the correct rhythm too. 

Then I got to college theory classes and was expected to sightsing!  Now that is a completely different issue.  Looking at a page of notes and singing them seemed like an impossible task to me.  It takes a natural ear.  If you don’t have one, you have to train it.  I had to put mine through boot camp the entire first year of theory classes.  Eventually I learned to do it—I could look at a piece of music and sing the notes, without accompaniment of any kind, not even chords to keep you in the right key.  I wasn’t any more perfect at it than I was at the piano, probably less, but I was musician enough to pass my tests, classes, and juries, and to make two college choruses and a women’s sextet.

Most of the hymns in our books are written in standard major keys, with standard four part harmony.  They are nothing like the music I had to sightsing in college, so I can usually sightsing them without too much trouble.  It’s sort of like being asked to boil an egg when you have been making soufflés for four years--simple.  Most of the congregation, though, do not have the advantage of being trained musicians and they just sing it the way they first heard it, which in many cases was incorrect. That means that very often I stick out like a sore thumb (or a sour note).

I have tried to sing what everyone else is singing just so I won’t, but I have trained myself so diligently that I can’t.  I’m a musician—I see the note, I sing what I see.  We were singing “When We All Get to Heaven,” the other day, and every time (at least three) I sang it right I created a clash that was hard to go unnoticed.  “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” creates at least five such clashes.  With “Amazing Grace” the list is nearly as long as the song itself.

But you know what?  While I don’t want to cause those clashes, my training makes it nearly impossible to sing the songs wrong, and my desire to please God by obeying His commands to sing makes it completely impossible for me to stop singing.

Isn’t that the way life is supposed to be for a Christian?  You really don’t want to clash with your neighbors.  You really want to “live peaceably with all men.”  But you should have trained yourself so well that you find it nearly impossible to sin.  Sticking out like a sore thumb shouldn’t matter to you.  Yes, it may be difficult, but no one ever promised us “easy.”  We are supposed to be different from unbelievers.  We are supposed to “conform to the image of His Son,” not to the world. It should be a habit by now.

Sometimes when I sing things correctly, but differently, I get funny looks.  Once, a song leader even went to the microphone when that section came up on the next verse so he could sing the (wrong) note loud and clear.  I guess he heard my different note on the first verse and it bugged him. 

This coming Sunday morning, if you hear someone sing a different note than you are singing, maybe you should check the notes you are singing.  Then do something much more important.  Use it as a reminder to check your life.  Could anyone tell you apart from your neighbors, or do you blend right in?  Out there in the world, you should be sightsinging a completely different tune.

But the wisdom from above is first pure—then peaceable…James 3:17.

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed…Rom 12:2.

Dene Ward

I had a beautiful flower garden this year—brick red gaillardia, their blooms lined with yellow-gold trumpet-shaped petals; pink, magenta, white, and burgundy cosmos fluttering on feathery spring green plumes: hardy, yellow gloriosa daisies shining like beacons among the leaves; yellow, orange, and rust colored marigolds perched on the bushiest plants I had ever seen in that flower; bright purple Mexican petunias who, though they shed their blooms every night, never failed to greet me with another show of dozens every morning; and zinnias sporting every color imaginable--white, yellow, salmon, cherry red, fire engine red, bright orange (Gator orange NOT Volunteer orange), purple, pink, lime green, and even variegated colors, growing as tall as five feet before the summer was out.

Unfortunately, those zinnias began growing something besides blooms. It started at the bottom, with black-rimmed white spots on just a few lower leaves.  It spread from one plant to several in an area until finally it had touched every single plant.  Then it began its inexorable climb up until only the top few leaves remained green, and only the newest blossoms, barely opened from the bud, were clean.  It took me awhile to realize what was happening, and by the time I figured it out, it was too late.

Still, I didn’t want to pull the plants.  They did have a little green left at the top, and where there is life there is hope, right?  Finally after several mornings of looking out on what had once brought joy to my mornings and seeing instead a mass of black leaves and stems, I made a decision.  Why did I have these flowers anyway?   Because they were beautiful, and even I could see all that color from a distance.  Were they beautiful any longer?  No, they were about as ugly as they could be.  And the longer I waited, the further that fungus spread.  The gaillardia were already infected, and a few of the marigolds.

So the next day I went out and began pulling.  It wasn’t even laborious.  Those plants were so sick that they came right up out of the ground, and do you know what I found underneath?  New seedlings growing from the deadheads I had been cutting all summer.  If I had left those ugly things much longer, the baby plants would have been choked out by the much larger roots and then infected as well.  Now they can breath and grow, and the sunlight reaches their tiny leaves. I have already gotten out the copper spray, a fungicide that is even considered “organic,” not that I would care since my goal is to save those new flowers no matter what it takes, and they aren’t on the menu anyway.

Still, it was hard to make that decision.  I have trouble even thinning the rows in the vegetable garden.  It goes against my nature to pull up a plant that is still alive, even if it does mean better production from the ones you leave, and far more food on my shelves to last the winter.

Sometimes we have to make decisions like that with souls.  Give not that which is holy to the dogs, nor cast your pearls before swine, Matt 7:6.  Who wants to make that judgment call?  And whosover shall not receive you nor hear your words…shake the dust off your feet, 10:14.  It is difficult to give up on someone you have invested a lot of time in, someone you have come to care about.  But sometimes our refusal to do so is costing many more souls out there the chance to hear and accept the word while we waste time on the stubborn and rebellious.

Sometimes that decision must be made among ourselves too.  A little leaven leavens the whole lump, Paul warned about immorality in 1 Cor 5:7, and then used exactly the same warning about false doctrine in Gal 5:9.  If you know anything about cooking, you know that leaven is alive.  It may not be a fungus, but it creeps in exactly the same way and spreads.  No matter how small a chunk of it you use, that dough will suddenly react, and there is no going back when it does.  Speaking of false teachers in 2 Tim 2:17, Paul says, “Their word eats as does a gangrene.”  When gangrene eats away the flesh, it’s gone.

Yes, we have to make these tough decisions, but I have seen some people make it with a little too much zest.  God never enjoyed it.  I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, He said, Ezek 33:11.  God would have all men to be saved, Paul says, 1 Tim 2:4, and Peter reminds us that God is not willing that any should perish, 2 Pet 3:9.  He waited a long time before He finally punished His people, and even then it was with anguish:  How shall I give you up…how shall I cast you off…my heart recoils within me, my compassion grows warm and tender, Hos 11:8. 

God never meant for this decision to be easy, but sometimes it has to be made.  It isn’t compassion not to make it—it’s cowardice.  My medical book says that fungus spreads worst among very young children and those who are already ill.  We must look underneath those infected branches to see the reason for our decision—to save many more before they too are infected with a fatal disease.  The souls who were sacrificed in the arenas by the Roman persecution are depicted as asking God, How long until you will judge and avenge our blood? Rev 6:10.  Desperate souls may be out there asking us, "How long are you going to waste time on the unwilling, when we want it so badly?”

"Rejoice with him, O heavens; bow down to him, all gods, for he avenges the blood of his children and takes vengeance on his adversaries. He repays those who hate him and cleanses his people's land." Deuteronomy 32:43

Dene Ward

In the last few years, my life has really slowed down.  I am no longer able to teach piano and voice lessons because I cannot read the students’ music well enough, especially when it comes to sightreading aria and concerto accompaniments.  This means fewer teachers’ meetings, and no more competitions to prepare for, sweat over, and pray about--I had the usual bunch of cardiac kids who waited till the last minute to pull it off.

My jog has also become a walk, at times with a big sturdy walking stick to steady myself when I stumble over something I did not see.  Even something as harmless as a pine cone has taken me unawares at times, rolling beneath my feet.

It isn’t true that your other senses become better when one fails.  Your hearing doesn’t improve, nor do your taste buds suddenly wake up.  But you do learn to use them more, and that makes them seem like they have improved.  So I am suddenly paying more attention to the birds on our property when I am outside. 

Though I cannot always see them, I have learned many of their calls, and can now identify quail, doves, owls, whippoorwills, hawks, blue jays, crows, titmice, wrens, woodpeckers, and hummingbirds—and I don’t mean the pecking and humming of the last two, but their actual vocal sounds.  And now that I recognize all of those, the ones I have not yet identified are more distinct when I hear them.  There is one out there that sounds like a bad flutist.

My son thinks it is pretty amazing when I say things like, “There’s a wren in the live oak outside your old bedroom window.”  But would I know where it was if I could not hear it?  What is the most amazing thing of all is that my Heavenly Father knows where each and every bird is whether it sings or not.  And that means He knows where I am, both physically and spiritually.  He knows, not just because He is able to know, but because He cares to know.  And that is the greatest security a child of God can have.  “Yes for me, for me He careth.”

Are not five sparrows sold for two pence?  And not one of them is forgotten in the sight of God  But the very hairs of your head are numbered.  Fear not.  You are of more value than many sparrows.  Luke 12:6,7

Dene Ward