Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

Then he cried in my ears with a loud voice, saying, "Bring near the executioners of the city, each with his destroying weapon in his hand." And behold, six men came from the direction of the upper gate, which faces north, each with his weapon for slaughter in his hand, and with them was a man clothed in linen, with a writing case at his waist. And they went in and stood beside the bronze altar. Now the glory of the God of Israel had gone up from the cherub on which it rested to the threshold of the house. And he called to the man clothed in linen, who had the writing case at his waist. And the LORD said to him, "Pass through the city, through Jerusalem, and put a mark on the foreheads of the men who sigh and groan over all the abominations that are committed in it." And to the others he said in my hearing, "Pass through the city after him, and strike. Your eye shall not spare, and you shall show no pity. Ezek 9:1-5.

In Ezekiel’s vision did you notice who was marked out to be saved? Those "who sigh and groan" over the sins and wickedness they saw all around them in their society. Everyone else was killed. This implies that there might have been those who did not participate in the sins, but who turned a blind eye to the sin around them, who might even have found it entertaining.  They were not spared either.

This makes me consider my dedication to righteousness. No, I don't participate in the sins that go on around me, but when I hear about some wild party do I mourn the wickedness or am I leaning in to catch every word, laughing along with others at the stories about the drunks?  Do I turn off the television or am I one of Nielsen’s ratings?  Do I mourn the hedonism around me or do I silently wish I could join Jimmy Buffet in Margaritaville instead of joining my brethren in worship?

I think too often some of us wish instead of mourn. When we see the rampant sin around us we should, as a holy people, be repelled, not attracted. We should sigh and lament the judgment that is coming for those sinners, not idolize their lifestyles.

New Christians might have problems developing this attitude; it won’t come immediately. But for those of us who have been Christians for 20+ years the concept of being holy like God is holy should be pretty well imprinted on our brains.

"Blessed are they that mourn ...”

Lucas Ward

Jesus once made a statement that has always made me flinch.  After the parable of the sower, when listing all the various soils and what went wrong with each hearer, he added, as Luke records it, Be careful therefore, how you hear, 8:18.  In a society big on blaming everyone but ourselves for our problems, this is truly one of the biggest.  Unlike the early church, which seemed to thrive on helping each other overcome problems with confessions and exhortations, we seem to think that no one has the right to tell us anything that might even slightly indicate that we might need to change.  Or we “wear our feelings on our shirtsleeves,” as the old saying goes, so we can be offended at the least provocation.

Jesus makes it plain in this passage that how I take what people say to me is entirely up to me.  It only makes sense when you think about it.  If I had no control over my reactions to what others say, then it would be to my advantage for people to say hurtful things to me, wouldn’t it?  In fact, getting my feelings hurt would be the ideal way to go.  Then I could be angry and strike back with no qualms at all. 

I could ignore the rebukes others offered for my sins as long as I felt insulted, and could keep doing them, couldn’t I?  But Paul says in Rom 2:6 that God will render to every man according to his deeds, not according to how someone corrected me.

I could ignore the one who tells me I am wrong about what I believe if I thought he had evil motives and bad intentions, couldn’t I?  But Paul also says of those who preached with bad intentions, What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed and therein I rejoice, Phil 1:19.

I could hear false teaching and not have to worry about checking it out, right?  But Jesus said in Matt 15:14, they are blind guides and if the blind guide the blind, they both fall into a pit.

So here is my obligation:  Listen to what others say, and evaluate it based upon truth, not upon how they say it, who they are, and whether or not I like them or their teaching.  Judgment Day will not dawn with three groups of people, including a group who “got their feelings hurt,” or “didn’t like the preacher,” or “were provoked,” and because of that did not do what they should have done.

There will only be two groups:  the ones who did right and the ones who did not.  Let’s get out those Q-tips and clean out our ears.  Be careful how you hear.

     He who corrects a scoffer gets to himself reviling, and he who reproves a wicked man gets himself a blot.
     Reprove a scoffer and he will hate you; reprove a wise man and he will love you.
     Give instruction to a wise man and he will be even wiser; teach a righteous man, and he will increase in learning, Prov 9:7-9

     The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but he who is wise listens to counsel. Prov 12:15

Dene Ward

We plant a lot of tomatoes in our garden.  We have learned by trial and error that it is far better to plant more than you think you can possibly use of several different varieties.  Some years one type produces better than the others.  Some years one will be wiped out by a disease that doesn’t touch the others.  Usually there is neither rhyme nor reason for any of it.  By planting several types, we can be sure to have some, if not all, bear fruit, and by planting too many, if it’s a bad year, we still have enough.  On the other hand, if it’s a good year, we can be generous with friends and neighbors.

We have also learned which types work best in our area.  For a long time we could always find what we needed in plants, but gardening has become the fashion now, and just like clothes, certain types of tomatoes are popular, and practicality seldom has anything to with it.  You used to have to search far and wide for heirlooms.  Now you must search far and wide for the ordinary hybrids.  The problem with heirlooms, at least in our part of the country, is that they bear about 5% as much as the ordinary hybrid.  We usually plant 90-95 tomatoes to fill our needs in fresh tomatoes, canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, and salsa.  If we used heirlooms exclusively, we would need to plant nearly 2000.

If we can’t find the reliable varieties of plants in the garden shops any longer, we can find their seeds in at least one of the half dozen seed catalogues we receive.  It’s a lot more trouble.  In our small home, we have to use the entire back bedroom to lay out the seed sponges and set up the grow-lights.  When they outgrow the sponges, they are still too small and delicate to place outdoors and the weather still too cold, so we have to transplant each one into a larger cup—all 90, one by one.  Then, when the weather finally turns, we have to carry them outside every day, a little longer every day, to harden them for the final transplant into the garden where they will be prey to sun, wind, insects, birds, and animals.  Because of our careful preparation, most of them make it.  We seldom lose more than half a dozen.

All that because fashion has taken over in gardening instead of common sense and proven track records.  It happens in every area of life. 

Don’t get me started on the organic craze.  People had been eating organic foods for thousands of years when Jesus came along and there were still plenty of sick people for him to heal and raise from the dead.

Everyone knows how music changes.  As far as our songs in the assembled worship, we are seeing a whole lot more rhythm and a whole lot less depth in the words.  Or, “Wow!” someone says—usually someone with a music background—“this one actually uses Dorian mode!”  Yes, but can an untrained congregation sing it easily enough to focus on the lyrics and actually do some “teaching and admonishing?”

Teaching has its fads.  We gave up phonics and wound up with “Johnny Can’t Read.”  In Bible classes we stopped teaching Bible facts to our children because we wanted them to develop the “heart” and not just the knowledge.  So now we have ignorant people tearing churches apart over things they should have been taught as children.  We used to be known for our Bible knowledge—now many of us are as clueless as any unbeliever on the streets.

Yes, some things are changeable expedients.  However, those things should be carefully weighed not only for their rightness, but also for the sake of pure old common sense.  Do we want to do it because it will work better for this group of people, or because everyone else is doing it?  Some of us wind up planting 2000 tomatoes just so we look good to the world, when 90 of the right kind would do just fine, probably better, at fulfilling the need. 

The seed is the word of God, Jesus said.  Maybe it’s time we used the seed instead of chasing around looking for something new and exciting.  God’s way works, but only if you know it, and only if you use it.

Whoever is wise, let him understand these things; whoever is discerning, let him know them; for the ways of the LORD are right, and the upright walk in them, but transgressors stumble in them. Hosea 14:9

Dene Ward

We live in a mobile society.  The first eleven years of our marriage we lived in five places, and we fully expected that to continue.  Neither of us dreamed that our children would go through the same school system for their entire thirteen years of schooling, and we would one day look around and say, “We’ve been here nearly thirty years now!”

It isn’t much by worldly standards, just five acres half a mile off a county road with a “manufactured home” on it.  But it isn’t square footage and high end building materials that make a home.  Would you like a tour?

Over to the west sits the doghouse Keith and the boys built together. It has housed six dogs and three cats now—you see, it is an original design, the cats had the second floor of this special pet condo.  A bright green swing hangs under the grape arbor.  Keith built the arbor and Lucas made the swing in high school shop class.  I make muscadine jelly with the grapes—Welch’s doesn’t even come close.  A live oak shades us from the afternoon sun-- Nathan fell out of it one Saturday while on the rope swing and broke his arm.  Daylilies bloom bright as a yellow sun in a bed I dig up every five or six years, thin out by giving the excess bulbs to friends, and then replant.

Off to the southwest a blueberry patch furnishes us with pies, cobblers, jam, muffins, and pancakes every May.  Beyond it a wooded acre includes four huge live oaks growing so close together that two little boys can barely fit between them.  But this “fort” gave them plenty of cover from wild Indians and assorted other bad guys.

The open field lies to the south, a place that has seen hundreds of football, basketball, and baseball games.  Croquet played on a green tabletop lawn?  Forget it.  We played “ultimate croquet” with slopes, molehills, armadillo holes, paper plate sized sycamore leaves, pine cones, twigs, and other assorted obstacles.  It was a whole lot more interesting.

Off to the southeast sit the old pigpen and the site of the old chicken pen, where the boys learned how to take care of dependent animals, and where the food we eat really comes from.  They also learned that there is a good reason to keep the pigpen way out to the southeast!

The garden has moved a few times as we not only rotate crops but entire plots as well. It was another source of learning—about sowing and reaping, about growth, about hard work, about sharing.  To the east the creek, which is actually a run, now sits dry as a bone because of the several years of drought, but when the boys were young it always had water in it and they took a dip every so often on a hot summer afternoon. 

Isn’t it odd how something that is not that valuable to anyone else can mean the world to you?  I think we have lost that in a society that no longer even furnishes much of a yard for children to play in.  I hope that does not make us lose the impact of some of the descriptions of Heaven, especially those that depict it as a re-creation of the Garden of Eden. 

I will one day have to leave this place, but that will be a difficult day.  I once had some roses, big beautiful bushes weighed down with pink and white blooms all summer.  But between the Storm of the Century in March ‘93, the several years of drought, and the natural bacteria in the ground in this area, they have gradually faded and died.

You know that old song, “Where the Roses Never Fade?”  One day I will have my “roses” again, and they will never die, and neither will we.  And we will never have to leave.

And he showed me a river of water of life, bright as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb in the middle of the street;  and on this side of the river, and on that was the tree of life bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.  And there shall be no curse any more, and the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be there, and his servants shall serve him and they shall see his face, and his name shall be on their foreheads.  And there shall be night no more and they need no light of lamp, neither light of sun for the Lord God shall give them light. And they shall reign forever and ever.  Rev 22:1-5

Dene Ward

New Mexico State University had scheduled its first graduation ceremony ever for March 10, 1893.  That morning the ceremony was canceled.  The university’s first graduate, the only one scheduled to graduate that year, Sam Steele, was robbed and killed the night before.  No one graduated, so no one came.  Reading that brought back a flood of memories.           
Many years ago we were on vacation and had carefully looked up a local congregation so we could attend a mid-week Bible study with our brothers and sisters in that town.  We left our camp site in plenty of time.  We arrived to an empty parking lot at 7:15 pm on a Wednesday evening.  The sign in the yard said, “Wednesday Bible Study, 7:30 PM.”  We waited until 8:00, then finally gave up and went back to the campground—no one ever came.

Another time, another place, we walked into the building at 6:45.  We knew someone would be there this time—there were cars in the lot already.  Yes, they were there, and the Bible class was winding down, even though the sign outside said, “Tuesday evening Bible study, 7:00 PM.”  At 7 on the dot the final amen was said.  “We meet at 6 in the summer,” we were told.  We sure wish the sign had said so.

Yet another time, and another place, we arrived on Sunday morning at 9:15 AM.  The sign outside said, “Bible classes, 9:30 AM,” but there wasn’t another car in sight.  Finally about 9:28 one car drove up and parked.  The family took their time getting out and walking inside.  We followed, and watched as the man, who was the teacher that morning, began setting up.  At 9:35 another family arrived and sat with us.  At 9:40 two more walked in.  At 9:45 another man walked through the auditorium, waving and calling out to the teacher in front of us, who had not yet started his class.  A couple of minutes later we started, and what was billed as a 45 minute study became 25 minutes, less another five or so for opening remarks and prayer.  A twenty minute Bible study.  Obviously, they didn’t get too far in their Bibles, and we wondered why we had gone to so much trouble to be there on time.

I cannot help but wonder how many other visitors give up and leave places like this.  Do we think we have no obligation at all to them?  Paul talks about the effect our assemblies have on the unbelievers who have come in 1 Cor 14:23-25.  He obviously expected visitors.  It isn’t some sort of OCD to want things done “decently and in order.”  When I invite someone, I expect there to be someone besides me to greet them and interact with them.  So does God.

We can piously, and a little self-righteously, tsk-tsk the ones who want things to end on time.  Don’t be so quick to judge bad motives for that.  Do you know the first question anyone I have ever invited asks?  “What time will it be over?”  They aren’t Christians yet.  They have a life to live, and probably other commitments that day.  If I can’t tell them they will be out of there by a certain time, they might not come at all.  Especially in our culture, time and schedule are normal considerations if you want to make your services visitor-friendly.  Eventually they will reach the point that time doesn’t matter to them—but not if we never make it possible for them to attend in the first place with inconsistent scheduling and a supercilious refusal to consider their needs.

I could go on.  What about leaving them easy, un-embarrassing places to sit, especially if they arrive a little late?  What about parking places?

Paul says that our consideration for outsiders will convict their hearts and prove that God is really among us.  What do we prove when our selfish or lackadaisical attitudes keeps anyone from even coming in the first place?

If an unbeliever enters, he is convicted by all, he is called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed and so, falling on his face, he will glorify God and declare that God is really among you, 1 Cor 14:24,25.

Dene Ward

After an unseasonable two weeks in the month of January that left our azaleas and blueberries blooming, the live oak leaves falling by the bushel, and the air conditioner humming away instead of the woodstove, we finally had a night in the thirties and woke February 1 to frost on the ground—and on all those blooms.

Keith rose earlier than usual to start the sprinkler on the blueberries so when the sun hit them as it climbed behind the trees in the eastern woods, the frost would be washed off and the blooms left undamaged.  He also built a small fire in the fire pit beside them, pulled together from the remains of a fire we had enjoyed the night before with a cup of hot chocolate. 

Ever since we moved to this plot of ground we have had a fire pit for hot dog fires and marshmallow roasts.  Now with the boys gone, we still like to sit there on a cold night and talk.  We sit there in the mornings too, if coals remain, and some did that day, so, thanks to a considerate husband, I had a fire to warm me along with my second cup of coffee.

The world was waking up.  Wrens warbled loudly in the shrubs, in between perches on the suet cage.  The hawks cried out as they flew overhead, hunting breakfast.  A neighbor’s cow bawled so loudly I wondered if it needed milking or was just hungry.  Frosted off brown grass may be crunchy, but probably doesn’t offer much nourishment.

I watched the small fire and scratched Chloe’s furry head.  Suddenly the wood shifted, and the whole fire lowered a bit as the wood beneath completely lost its framework and became nothing but ashes.  Slowly and surely the rest began to burn and fall, and within a few minutes only a twig or two was left glimmering in the white debris beneath.

One morning recently, when we were sitting by a similar fire planning a camping trip, we suddenly realized that we could no longer plan “twenty years from now” with any reasonable expectation.  I suppose it hit me first when I did the math and thought, if Keith makes it twenty more years he will have outlived all of his grandparents and his father.  Twenty years will still have me five years short of my mother’s current age, and nearly forty years short of one of my grandmother’s.  Then I realized that I take after my other grandmother more and that would give me only fourteen more years.

I am not being morose.  After all, for a Christian, it means the reward is closer, but I think the day it hits you can suddenly change everything you say and do from then on.  It needs to hit you sooner rather than later—life is short, a breath, a wind, a shadow, the grass, the flowers—all of these things are mentioned in scores of places in the scriptures.

We are just like that small morning fire.  Only half the size of a normal campfire and built on the half burnt remains of the night before, it was gone in moments.  But it still accomplished two things. 

It provided some warmth in the early morning chill.  The thermometer next to the house said 37 that day, but Keith said the car thermometer, which was not next to a warm wall, registered between 29 and 33 as he drove to work.  In a nightgown, sweatshirt and denim jacket, I needed some warmth while I sat there.  So does the world.  It’s up to me to provide that warmth, which translates as comfort and compassion, to everyone I meet.  As Paul said in 2 Cor 1:3,4, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  God gives us spiritual life so we can give comfort to others, not just for our own joy.

The morning was still dim that day, and the fire provided me with the light to see around me.  God appeared as a pillar of cloud to lead the Israelites during the day.  What about travel after dark?  And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night. Exodus 13:21-22.  Isn’t it in the dark of trial, indecision, and despair that we need guidance most?  And when do our neighbors need our help the most?  God means for us to be a light, a city set on a hill, bright enough for all to see even at a distance.

And then we gradually burn down and the light and the warmth disappear.  Or does it?  Don’t you still remember people who have helped you along the way?  Don’t you still recall their wise and comforting words and their kind deeds?  It only looks like the fire has died, for underneath those feathery white ashes lie smoldering coals that will still warm you and give you light.

That’s what God expects of this small morning fire we call our lives, and the fire that keeps on giving will be the one that springs to life again on that bright and glorious morning to come.

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom, Psa 90:12.

Dene Ward

His name was Joseph.  He came from an island off the coast, but had family in the city, and had come to worship at the two feast days, probably staying with his close relative Mary.  While he was there he saw and heard amazing things:  people speaking languages they had never studied, something that looked like fire but wasn’t, something that sounded like a windstorm but wasn’t, and a sermon that both astonished and convicted him.  He wound up staying in town, along with several thousand others who had become part of God’s new kingdom, the one they had been waiting for so long. 

Despite their previous plans, they all chose to stay so they could learn, so they could grow, so they could mature before they went off on their own to spread the word in a world of sin, a world, they were told, that would reject them more often than accept them.  It wasn’t long till the practical needs of several thousand homeless people with no income could no longer be ignored. 

Those who lived in the city helped as much as they could.  They took people in and collected funds to buy extra food and clothing.  Men were chosen to see to these needs.  Joseph helped as well, selling off extra property he owned, and donating the full amount to the group. 

But that was not all he did.  Here was a man who excelled at encouragement, consolation, exhortation.  He was the first to give a pat on the back when it was needed, a hug, a kind word, a stern word, a teaching word, a “rah-rah” from the sidelines, a second chance to those whom others had given up on.  In fact, he became so good at it that the apostles gave him the nickname, “son of encouragement/consolation/exhortation,” whatever your version says in Acts 4:36.  And forever more in the scriptures, that is how we know him—Barnabas.  Did you even know that was not his real name?

Whenever I think of that man, I wonder what nickname the apostles would give me?  Whiny Winnie?  Gossip Gail?  My-Way Marian?  Grumpy Gert?  Cold-hearted Catherine?  Hotheaded Harriet?   Wondering about that will give your character a real shot in the arm.  I’d much rather have something like Generous Joyce or Compassionate Kate. 

Today, try to figure out what they would call you.  Be honest.  You can always change that name, just by changing yourself.

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold,  Prov 22:1.

Dene Ward

This was according to the eternal purpose that he has realized in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and access with confidence through our faith in him, Ephesians 3:11-12.

Ho-hum, I thought as I grabbed the concordance to look up yet another word in our study of faith.  Expecting to see that “boldness” was also translated courage, bravery, or some other obvious synonym, I found myself sitting up at attention instead. 

This word for boldness is not the usual word.  This one actually means boldness of speech.  In fact, the one Greek word is translated by those three English words more than once as in 2 Cor 3:12, “Having therefore such a hope, we use great boldness of speech.”  If you have a modern translation, as I did my ESV that day, you will miss it.  Pull out your old 1901 ASV and you will see the three word phrase.  Then pull out your King James, “ …we use great plainness of speech.”

That means, according to that verse at the top, you can talk freely—and plainly—to God.  You don’t have to worry that God will take things the wrong way.  You don’t have to worry that God will misinterpret your meaning.  You don’t have to worry that He will take offense like some people who make a career out of getting their feelings hurt.

When you are disappointed, you can talk to Him.

When you are depressed and discouraged, you can talk to Him.

When you are mad, you can talk to Him.

When you want to ask why, you can.

When you want to feel a little sorry for yourself, you can.

When you need to vent, you can.

God says, be plain, be bold, tell me what you need to tell me—I am here for you.

That verse in Ephesians says we can do this because of faith.  If you don’t believe God cares this much for you, that He will listen to anything and everything, that He actually wants you to feel free to talk to Him, then somewhere your faith is lacking. 

It isn’t faith to say, God doesn’t want to hear this.

It isn’t faith to say, my problems are too small to bother God with them.

It isn’t faith to say, God is busy with more important things right now.

Faith speaks.

Faith speaks freely.

Faith shares whatever needs to be shared whenever it needs sharing—just ask Job.

Tell God how you feel today.

A Psalm of David:  Hear my cry, O God; Attend unto my prayer. From the end of the earth will I call unto you, when my heart is overwhelmed: Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been a refuge for me, A strong tower from the enemy. I will dwell in your tabernacle for ever: I will take refuge in the shelter of your wings. Selah.   Psalms 61:1-4

Dene Ward

There are probably as many recipes for meat loaf as there are families who eat it.  Up until a few years ago, I thought the only excuse for making meat loaf was the sandwiches you made with the leftovers.  In fact, I was happy to forego eating it at all the first night, and use it only for sandwiches the next day. 

Then I found a recipe for Southwestern Meat Loaf.  It’s still meat loaf—ground meat, finely chopped vegetables, filler, binder of eggs and dairy, seasonings, and a tomato product on top. 

Instead of white or yellow onions you use scallions.  Instead of bell pepper, open a can of chopped green chiles.  Instead of bread crumbs or oatmeal, grind up corn tortillas in the food processor.  Instead of milk, sour cream fills the dairy bill with the usual eggs.  Along with the usual salt and pepper, sprinkle in chili powder, cumin, and chopped fresh cilantro.  Instead of ketchup, mix 3 tablespoons of brown sugar in a cup of salsa.  Pour a quarter cup of that over the top; save the rest for heating and passing with the finished loaf.  Fifteen minutes before it’s done, sprinkle it with Monterey Jack cheese instead of cheddar.  Voila! (Or whatever the Mexican word for that is.)

You know what?  It still looks like meat loaf, smells like meat loaf, and tastes like meat loaf, just with a different accent, one we happen to prefer.  But if someone else came up with a recipe using chunks of beef, broth, potatoes, onions, and carrots we would all think he was nuts to call it meat loaf.  It bears no resemblance to the meat loaf pattern—it’s beef stew.

For some reason, that made me think about God’s plan for the church.  We can find verse after verse where the apostles, particularly Paul, tell us that God expects us to follow a pattern in each congregation—1 Corinthians 4:17; 7:17; 16:1 and 2:Tim 1:13,  just to name a few.  But sometimes we mistake an expedient for a flaw in the pattern, and try to legislate where God did not.

Take the Lord’s Supper for instance:  grape juice and unleavened bread on the first day of the week.  What kind of grapes must the juice come from?  What sort of flour must the bread be made of?  Most of the time here in America, we use juice made from Concord grapes.  They did not have Concord grapes in first century Jerusalem.  The grapes they had in Corinth were probably different, too.  Today we use wheat flour, usually bleached, all-purpose, white flour.  Most likely the early Christians in Palestine used barley flour, and I bet there was nothing white about it—pure, whole grain was all most of them could afford.  (Funny how that is the expensive kind today!)  In Rome the Christians might have used semolina flour.  But there is one thing for certain—everywhere in the world, grapes of some sort are available, and everywhere in the world people eat bread.  All they have to do is press the grapes and remove the leavening from the bread recipe.

Following a pattern does not mean we make rules God did not.  Two women can each make a dress from the same pattern.  One uses satin and trims it in lace; the other can only afford gingham and trims it with rickrack.  Did they both follow the pattern?  Are the sleeves the same length in the same place?  Is the neckline the same?  Do they both have a gathered skirt, or is one A-line?  Oops.  That one changed the pattern.  It’s really not that hard to tell, is it?

And that is how we tell if a church is following the pattern.  Sometimes we try to force every church into satin and lace, when they are really more suited to gingham and rickrack.  But the essentials are there.  It is not my job to go around making judgments about details (cultural expedients) as long as the basic pattern is sound. 

But that pattern does matter.  It has always mattered with God.  Read about Nadab and Abihu, Uzzah, or King Uzziah.  Then let’s make sure we have found a group of people who do their best to follow God’s pattern, and who do not add their own rules to God’s.  After all, meat loaf is meat loaf is meat loaf.  But beef stew isn’t!

…even as Moses is warned of God when he is about to make the tabernacle, See, said he, that you make all things according to the pattern which was shown you in the mount,  Heb 8:5.

For the recipe accompanying this post, click >> Dene's Recipes page


Dene Ward

The bulk of our winter this year was warm, so warm the blueberries began to bloom in January.  Not good, for up here in North Florida we could be sure more frosts and freezes awaited us.  But there was nothing we could do about it, so we went on about our business, and one morning as I pulled myself along with the trekking poles, walking Chloe around the property, I suddenly came upon a yellow daisy right in the middle of a patch of green grass, another product of the warm spell.  It sat there only four inches off the ground and a little scraggly.  Still, it made me smile.

Then I had the flu and found myself in the sickbed for over a week.  Finally, the chest congestion drained, the ears stopped aching, and the nose could suddenly breathe again, so after one more day of recovery, I took Chloe on another walk.  As I came around the blueberries I saw it again, still hanging on in spite of the now cooler temperatures--and once again I smiled.

I wonder if we aren’t supposed to be like that lone little daisy out in the world.  Do we make anyone smile?  Or are we just like everyone else, hurrying along, consumed with ourselves and our business, impatient, or even angry, with the ones who get in our way and slow us down?  We have an obligation to others we pass along the way. 

You shall not see your brother's donkey or his ox fallen down by the way and ignore them. You shall help him to lift them up again. Deuteronomy 22:4

That one is pretty easy, we say.  Who wouldn’t stop for a brother on the side of the road whose donkey (or car) was broken down?  Keith stood by the side of the road next to a disabled car one night, and watched brother after brother pass him on the way to the gospel meeting that was being held just a mile or two down the highway, so don’t be too sure of yourself.

Yet the law also says this:  "If you meet your enemy's ox or his donkey going astray, you shall bring it back to him. If you see the donkey of one who hates you lying down under its burden, you shall refrain from leaving him with it; you shall rescue it with him, Exodus 23:4-5.  How many of us feel any obligation at all to bear the burden of an enemy, or just a stranger? 

Let’s not make it one of those situations where we excuse ourselves by talking about crime and good sense.  How about this?  Did you make the cashier’s day a little brighter or a little tougher when you went through the line this morning?  Did you stop and help the harried young mother who dropped her grocery list and sent coupons scattering across the aisle, or did you sigh loudly at the inconvenience of her, her cart, and her three rowdy children because you were in a hurry to get home?  Did you make small talk with the waitress who poured your coffee, or did you treat her like a piece of furniture?  Did you slow down and make room for the car that cut you off in traffic, or did you talk and gesticulate and lay on the horn long enough for someone to think we were in an air raid?  Did you make anyone smile this morning?

At my first defense, no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me, Paul said in 2 Tim 4:16.  Nearly impossible to imagine, isn’t it?  Yet the night before Keith was scheduled to testify in a trial where we knew the only defense was to try to discredit him, a brother decided he needed to call him up and castigate him for an imagined slight, something that he had simply misunderstood.  When all we can think about is ourselves instead of bearing one another’s burdens, Gal 6:2, instead of helping the weak, 1 Thes 5:14, instead of comforting one another, 2 Cor 1:4, that’s exactly what happens.

Yes, we get comfort from God, but guess how that often happens?  But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus, 2 Corinthians 7:6.  We are the comfort that God gives.  We are the help that He provides. It’s up to us to pay attention and think of someone besides ourselves.

Today, be a January daisy, something lovely and unexpected in the life of someone who needs it, whether a brother, or an enemy, or just a stranger.  Make someone smile.

Anxiety in a man's heart weighs him down, but a good word makes him glad. Proverbs 12:25
I rejoice at the coming of Stephanas and Fortunatus and Achaicus… for they refreshed my spirit... 1 Corinthians 16:17-18

Dene Ward