We first encountered a coreopsis when we planted several packets of wildflowers and a few sprang up along the edge of our mown field.   These two foot high plants held bright yellow ray flowers on bare stalks above lance shaped leaves.  “Tickseed” I found as its colloquial name because its hard flat black fruit resembles a tick.

Although they still spring up here and there nearly ten years after that original planting, they are sparse and tend to congregate on the southern edge of the field, shining like the occasional light bulb in a sea of green grass and weeds.  They had just started blooming in early May when I spent my entire morning walk with Chloe talking to God about a particularly thorny issue.  I had just asked for what seemed impossible. 

It has taken me years to reach this point.  The church of my day spent nearly its entire existence fighting false doctrines, certainly a noble cause.  False teaching can steal souls as easily as the temptations of an increasingly carnal culture.  But we often forgot to balance those teachings with the truth, jumping far beyond it to a place of certain safety, where we were so far from the ravenous wolf in sheep’s clothing that we fell into the pit of despair instead.  Yes, miracles have ceased, but that doesn’t mean that God no longer works in the world or that my prayers will not be answered.  Yes, the Holy Spirit operates through the Word He inspired, but that doesn’t meant that I will not receive help from an avenue He has set in motion.  Providence, we call all of those things—normal natural occurrences that seem to come at the most opportune times.

And so I was walking along the path, pulling my way with those now ubiquitous trekking poles of mine, along the back fence, probably fifty feet from the nearest--and loneliest--coreopsis, turning on its southwest side by a stretch where we had sown none of them, and none had ever before appeared.  When things do spread, they always go north-northwest, certainly never south, especially in the summer.  Yet suddenly, right there before me stood a bright yellow beacon where it should not have been.  It was so unexpected I came to a complete halt and called Chloe over, as if she too should have cared.  Coming as it did so surprisingly, just after that impossible request, I was instantly reminded that God can do the impossible, and my spirits soared.

No, I am not a mystic, or a believer in such things.  But I am reminded of a sermon Jesus preached once, where it seems he glanced up and surely must have seen a flock of birds on the wing, so he said, “Behold the birds of the heavens,” and a few minutes later when he surely must have seen a nearby patch of flowers and said, “Consider the lilies of the field.”  Jesus had no problem at all using the natural world to teach His lessons.  Why can’t I use the natural world to remind me of lessons I need at a particular time?

I have a friend who loves butterflies.  As she endures cancer treatment she often says, “God sent me a butterfly today.”  She had looked outside and seen one flitting around in her flowerbeds.  That butterfly reminded her that God cares for her, just as Jesus reminds us, Look at the birds of the heavens, that they sow not, neither do they reap nor gather into barns, and your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are not you of much more value than they? Matt 6:26. 

God has created an amazing natural world to teach us if we will but pay attention.  Solomon used that natural world in the wisdom God gave him.  And he spoke three thousand proverbs; and his songs were a thousand and five. And he spoke of trees, from the cedar that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springs out of the wall; he spoke also of beasts, and of birds, and of creeping things, and of fishes. 1 Kings 4:32-33.  If we deny this creation of God its ability to edify and encourage, how are we any different from the pagan who denies that it proves God’s very existence in the first place?

Pay attention to what lies outside your door today, the birds and lilies, the butterflies and the out of place, bright yellow coreopsis.  As it turns out, God did answer my impossible prayer that day, in almost exactly the way I had asked.  Who am I to try to explain that away?

Jesus looked at them and said, "With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God," Mark 10:27

Dene Ward

 

 I may have mentioned before the black and white cat we had many years ago, Abby.  It was not long before he developed the reputation of a scoundrel for the way he treated our gullible lab Bart, and Nathan called him “the devil cat” for he had many devilish ways.

 Sometimes I like to take a break from gardening or housework and sit in the swing under the grape arbor.  Truly I plan to sit for only a few minutes!  But Abby would seize the opportunity, jump into the swing beside me and start purring.  Once that purring started I could not help but pet him, and he would creep closer, often placing one paw in my lap.  Then he would look up with that sweet furry face, purring even louder.  Do you know how relaxing it is to pet a purring cat?  Before I knew it, he was in my lap, and a half hour had gone by, along with all my good intentions.

He also liked to pretend he was a lion.  Our garden was the Serengeti.  Whenever I went out to pick he would creep along, hidden in the pea and bean rows, stalking my feet.  When he decided that the gazelles were least aware that he, the king of the beasts, was upon them, he would attack.  The first time it happened, my instant reaction was to kick, and he landed about twenty feet away in the cucumbers.  Talk about clueless; the look on his face was almost worth the blood he had drawn.  After that he learned to be gentler in his play, but I also learned to keep an eye on the moving shadows among the beans.

 This leads me to that other lion, who goes about seeking whom he may devour, 1 Pet 4:8.  James tells us to resist the devil and he will flee from you, 4:7.  Try booting him across the garden and see if he doesn’t leave you alone for awhile.  If you are lucky he will land in the okra patch and itch so much for the next few days that you will be the last thing on his mind!

But watch out--just like my little lion, he will try a new tack and visit you again.  There may come a time when you have to flee instead of fighting, 1 Cor 6:18; 2 Tim 2:22.   Other times he will get you because he is so cute or handsome or personable or comfortable, and before you know it, you are doing something you had no intention of doing. Even Satan fashions himself as an angel of light.  It is no great thing therefore if his ministers also fashion themselves as ministers of righteousness, 2 Cor 11:14,15.  (Have you ever seen a really ugly false teacher?)

Our world likes to view Satan as a laughable boogey man made up by irrational fanatics.  It is easy to forget he is real.  He is out there.  Like a hungry lion, he wants you!

 Finally, brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of his might; put on the whole armor of God that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.  For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.  Wherefore take up the whole armor of God that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Eph 6:10-13

 Dene Ward

A few years ago Keith dug up a plant he found out in the field far from the house, surrounded by stinging nettles and poison ivy.  He had thought it looked like something besides another weed.  When I rubbed the leaves between my fingers and sniffed, I discovered it was spearmint.  So I potted it and put it next to my herb bed, where it comes in handy every so often, and grows so bountifully I have to give it a haircut once in awhile.

Imagine finding a useful herb in the middle of a patch of useless, annoying, and even dangerous weeds.  I thought of that mint plant a few days ago when we studied Rahab in one of my classes.  I have written about her before, and you can read that article in the Bible people category to your right, “The Scarlet Woman and Her Scarlet Cord,” but something new struck my mind in this latest discussion. 

God told Abraham his descendants would not receive their land inheritance for another 400 years because “the iniquity of the Amorite is not yet full,” Gen 15:13-16.  The people of Canaan, the Promised Land, were not yet so wicked that God was ready to destroy them, but the time was coming. 

If there is a Bible definition for “total depravity” perhaps that is it:  “when their iniquity is full.”  That had happened before in the book of Genesis—to Sodom in Genesis 19, and to the whole world in Genesis 6 when God saw that “every intention of the thoughts of [man’s] heart was only evil continually” (v 5), another fine definition for total depravity.

Both times God brought about a complete destruction—except for a tiny remnant that we can count on our fingers in each instance. That means that when God finally brought the Israelites into their land, the Canaanites’ iniquity was “full” and those people must have been every bit as wicked as the people of Sodom and the world in general in Noah’s day. 

Yet right in the middle of Jericho, the first city to be conquered, a harlot believed in Jehovah God.  A harlot.  Would you have bothered speaking to her if she were your neighbor, much less invited her to a Bible study?  But she outshone even the people of God in a way that made God take notice of her.

Thirty-eight years before, when those first 12 spies came back from their scouting expedition in Numbers 13, ten of them, the vast majority, gave a fearful report.  Look at the words they used:  “we are not able;” “they are stronger than us.”  Look at the words Rahab used when she spoke to the two later spies:  “I know the Lord has given you the land;” “our hearts melted and there was no spirit left in any man…because the Lord your God he is God.”  The earlier Israelites raised “a loud cry,” “wept all night,” and “grumbled against Moses and Aaron” (Num 14:1-4).  Rahab sent the spies safely on their way and hung a scarlet cord in her window, patiently waiting for the deliverance promised by two men she had never seen before in her life, but whose God she had grown to believe in with all her heart.  The difference is startling.  If you didn’t know anything but their words and actions, which would you think were children of God?

And a woman like this lived in a place determined for destruction because its iniquity was “full,” plying a trade we despise, living a life of moral degradation as a matter of course.

Who lives in your neighborhood?  What kind of lives do they lead?  Rahab had heard about the God of Israel for forty years (Josh 2:10), assuming she was that old—if not, then all her life.  Have your neighbors heard about your God?  Have they seen Him in your actions, in your interactions, and in your absolute assurance that He is and that He cares for you, even when life deals you a blow?

Do your words sound like the faithless Israelites’ or like the faithful prostitute’s?  Would God transplant you out of the weeds into the herb garden, or dig you up and throw you out among the thorns and nettles where a useless plant belongs?

Don’t count on the fact that you aren’t a harlot.

Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” Luke 18:10-14.

Dene Ward

I bought groceries the other day, and as I wandered down the produce aisle, I went past a cart in which the worker had stacked a pile of lettuce heads that were obviously past their prime, rusting and wilted.  Meanwhile, the line in front of the bagged salads stretched halfway across the produce section.  I was headed that way myself—only because they are on sale and I have a coupon, I salved my frugal conscience, certainly not because they are easier.

As I waited my turn, I eased my way past containers of pre-chopped peppers, onions, celery, and garlic.  I had seen tubs of already mashed potatoes earlier, and when I scoured the freezer section for shrimp to cook in my bouillabaisse, I had to dig to find some that were not peeled, deveined, and pre-cooked.  Everyone wants the easy way these days.  Even the last few years I taught piano, it was not unusual for a parent to ask.  “How long will it take for my child to learn how to do this?”  After 45 years I was still learning!  No wonder you hear so much about easy-lose diets, an easy way to a toned body, and easy-read Bibles. 

When I was a child, older folks often said, “It’s only worth the effort it cost you.”  God never says being His child will be easy.  Even when Jesus says, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light,” He is talking in relative terms—it is still a yoke and a burden.  But, unlike sin’s, His yoke and burden do not come with the built-in weight of guilt, an overriding, insurmountable millstone that will crush your spirit long before it destroys your soul for an eternity.  Paul says we will be a servant to something, either to sin unto death or obedience unto righteousness…But now being made free from sin and become servants to God, you have your fruit unto sanctification, and the end eternal life., Rom 6:16, 22.  Unlike the fatal weight of sin, this yoke and burden we can “live” with!

The next time I want a salad, I will try to think about that, and buy the whole head, then relax and enjoy the chopping.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me thoroughly from my sin…Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean; wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.  Make me to hear joy and gladness...Restore unto me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with your free spirit…Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, Oh Jehovah, the God of my salvation, and my tongue shall sing aloud of your righteousness.  Selected lines from the 51st Psalm.

Dene Ward

I was the only teacher in the county who could do it.  I was the only teacher in the county who had ever done it herself.  It’s the reason I charged more than any other teacher in the county:  I alone could prepare a student for a college audition.

The school of music is not like most other colleges in a university.  You can walk into practically any other with only your high school education and do fine.  You can say, “Turn me into a teacher,” and they can.  You can say, “Prepare me for law school,” and they can.  You can say, “Make me a nurse,” and they can.  But if you are not already a musician of at least some caliber with as many years of private teaching behind you as possible, the school of music will not take you.

My college audition consisted of two tests, a performance, and an interview.  One test was four pages of written theory that taxed my knowledge to the limit—keys, chords, terminology, the ability to analyze a page of written music and then writing four part harmony, both notated and not—in other words, writing out music that was playing in my head instead of my hands.

Another was aural theory.  What’s that, you ask?  “Given a steady beat, notate this rhythm,” at which point the examiner tapped out a complex pattern containing every different kind of note he could fit in, plus dots and triplets.  Then followed a melody of which I was only told the first note and had to write the rest from ear alone, including correct rhythm—eight bars worth.  Then followed several chord progressions which I had to identify by ear, half a dozen or so. 

Then the performance:  a major original piece by a recognized composer.  Mine was the Chopin Polonnaise in C minor, all 7 pages from memory.  But that wasn’t all.  I had to perform “on demand” any of the 13 major scales, four octaves in sixteenth notes at an appropriate tempo with the correct fingering, and all three forms of any of the 13 minor keys the same way, with accompanying cadences, using common tone progression.  Which were “demanded”?  E Flat Major—not too bad—and F Sharp Minor (think, girl, think!).

And the interview?  Who is your favorite composer and what do you like about his music?  (Translation:  do you know anything besides how to play it?)  Who have you played?  (Are you a one-hit wonder—the pet student of your studio teacher because you were the only one who could learn the first movement of the Pathetique Sonata; otherwise “Fur Elise” was the pinnacle of your student career.)          

What’s the point of all this?  When James says, “Be not many teachers, my brethren, knowing we shall receive heavier judgment,” (3:1), he wasn’t just blowing smoke through his hat.  When God listed the teaching objectives in His Son’s body, he included the perfecting of the saints, ministering, building up the body, attaining unity, becoming knowledgeable, becoming stable, learning to love, and growing up to the same height as Christ (Eph 4:11-16).  That’s what he expected teachers in the church to accomplish with their students.  If you think those do not apply to you, especially not if you only teach the preschool class, you are sorely mistaken.

The preparation for my college audition began at my first lesson—when I learned the fundamentals of keeping a steady beat, playing one note with one hand and one note with the other, back and forth, back and forth, while my teacher played an accompaniment that made it sound like real music.  You are doing the same thing when you teach a two year old, “God made me.”  Everything else will lie on that one fundamental principle.

How are your women’s classes?  Are you really studying the Word of God or just exchanging opinions?  Do you know more today than you did last year?  Have you changed your mind about anything?  And the most telling of all—do you handle life better than you used to?  Has your behavior in certain circumstances completely changed based on the growth of your character, or do you still fight the same old battles against sin, and most of the time, lose?

All Bible teachers should be preparing their students to pass one final audition.  If you think those old “read a verse and comment classes” were doing that, maybe you should think twice about your ability—and responsibility—as a teacher of the Word of God.  You are not there to fill the time, to check off the fact that this church has today met it’s obligation to “study.” 

Teaching the Word is an awesome and frightening privilege.  I pray about it before I do it because God will hold me accountable when the time comes for the audition.  If my students don’t pass, then neither do I.

Let a man so account of us, as of ministers of Christ, and stewards of the mysteries of God. Here, moreover, it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful. 1 Corinthians 4:1-2

Dene Ward

“They didn’t come see me when I was sick.”

You’d think by now I’d be used to it.  I’ve heard it everywhere I’ve been, but it still amazes me that people who have been Christians for decades still view suffering the wrong way.  Yes, we suffer in this life.  All of us suffer in one way or the other.  So why do those few think that the reason for their suffering is so they can be “Queen for a Day?” 

Probably only a few of you remember that show.  I was very young myself.  Originally it aired on a local radio show in LA, but it was picked up for national broadcast by NBC on January 3, 1956.  It has been called the first “reality show” and it was roundly criticized even in its day.  It went like this:  three or four women showed up to tell their stories of woe and suffering and the audience voted on who was suffering the most and that one “lucky” woman received a robe, a crown, a bouquet of roses, and several prizes, in effect being treated like a queen for one day.  A contest to see who is suffering the most?  Really?  But isn’t that what so many in the church do?  “I deserve more attention than so-and-so because I have more problems than she does.”

People who constantly complain about not getting enough attention are giving themselves away for, as Jesus says, “Out of the heart the mouth speaks,” Matt 15:18.  Indeed, if my suffering were as severe as my “Woe is me!” attitude, I wouldn’t be thinking about the attention I do or don’t get, but about the trial itself.  But all that is beside the point.  Suffering is not about being served.

Peter tells us that suffering refines us, makes us pure and stronger (1 Pet 1:6-9).  James seems to indicate that suffering brings wisdom (Jas 1:2-6).  But I think that even those things don’t reach the ultimate reason we suffer.  Suffering is about discipleship.  A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher, Luke 6:40.  Why do we think we can be a disciple of a suffering servant and never suffer like he did?

So why did Jesus have to suffer?  Hebrews tells us that because he suffered he is able to help those who also suffer (2:18), and that as a high priest he is able to sympathize with us (4:15.).  He learned obedience by the things he suffered “with loud cries and tears,” (5:8).  Yes, he really suffered and the whole purpose of his suffering was so he could help others who are suffering the same way.

So why do I suffer?  Doesn’t it make sense that as a disciple of Christ, I am suffering for the same reason he did, so I can accomplish the same thing he accomplished?  We neither suffer so we can be the center of attention nor so we can stand as judge over others who give that attention.  We suffer so that we can better serve those who are suffering similar things.  Even the purity, strength, and wisdom that come from suffering helps us accomplish those ends.  As with everything else in a Christian’s life, my suffering is not about me, it is about others. 

Have you been forsaken by an unfaithful spouse?  Be willing to talk openly to those who are going through the same things.  You may well be the only one who understands the thoughts that go through one’s head, the looks you get from others, the ordeal of custody battles and the instant poverty that sometimes accompanies this betrayal.

Have you survived cancer?  Look for new victims who feel the constant pressure of wondering not if it will return, but when.  Look for still others, not just cancer victims, but anyone with a bleak prognosis.  No one understands the axe hanging over their heads like you do.

Have you been the victim of violent crime?  No one understands the constant terror that one lives with after that, the burden of overcoming paranoia—seeing a boogeyman behind every face in a parking lot, in a grocery aisle, passing you in a car as you walk to get the mail.  No one else can understand the embarrassment of once again becoming a little child who is afraid of the dark.

Have you lost a child?  Have you lost a child to the world?  Have you faced financial ruin?  Have you lost everything to a fire, a hurricane, a tornado?  Are you facing disability or the caregiving of a spouse who no longer knows who you are?  Everyone has faced something, and God expects you to use that experience, and the strength and wisdom you have gained from it, to help someone else.  You are the Lord’s agent on this earth.  Don’t let all your pain go to waste.

None of this can be accomplished if I am still whining about a loss that occurred years ago.  No one can be helped if I am still expecting everyone to pat me on the back for every little thing that comes along.  At some point God expects me to get over it.  Some afflictions are more difficult than others.  Some trials need a longer recovery period, but mature Christians eventually grow past the selfish need for attention. 

We don’t suffer so we can be “Queen for a Day.”  On the contrary, suffering makes us both eligible and obligated to help others.  God expects me to search out those who need my special experiences and serve.  Just when has He ever expected anything less of His people?

So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through his own blood. Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured.. Hebrews 13:12-13

Dene Ward

I used to jog.  As my vision has decreased, my exercise regimen has changed as well.  The jog became a walk, then a walk with trekking poles as support, and now an indoor elliptical machine.  But I miss that outdoor time---six laps of a ½ mile plus each.  No, I did not get bored walking around in circles every day.  I have learned more about wildflowers, trees, and birds than ever before, and my dog and I have a game we play that I am positive she has made up rules for.  The walk is also an excellent time for prayer and meditation. 

About the only thing I did not like about the path was the occasional spider web, especially when I was surprised by a face full of one.  Like all predatory traps, they are practically invisible.  If I were a fly instead of a human, I would have been snared and eaten a long time ago.

One morning as I came east across the north end of the property, I passed through a shaft of sunlight shining on a web ahead of me, turning it into spun gold.  Just in time I was able to stop, grab a twig from the ground, and wipe the web out of my path.

Satan is never called a spider, but his traps are exactly like those spider webs.  They are invisible.  Unless you shine the light of God’s word on them, you will walk right into them.  They may even look attractive, like the beautifully intricate web I saw that day.  We must never forget that they are as deadly to us as a spider web is to a fly.

The opening of your word gives light;
            It gives understanding to the simple.
I opened wide my mouth and panted,
            For I longed for your commandments.
Turn unto me and have mercy on me,
            As you do to those who love your name.
Establish my footsteps in your word,
            And let not any iniquity have dominion over me.
Psalm 119:130-133

Dene Ward

It takes us three days to pack for a camping trip.  I have a list saved on the computer that I print out every time—three pages.  Yes, I said three pages.

Just for meals, for instance, I pack cups, mugs, plates, soup bowls, a measuring cup, grill tools, saucepans, skillets, the coffee pot, propane stoves, matches, gas canisters, coffee filters, a griddle, a folding grill, a mixing bowl, silverware, mixing spoons and spatulas, foil, Ziplocs for leftovers, a bacon drippings can, paper towels, dish soap, a dish pan, dish towels, hot pads, and trash bags, and that doesn’t count the food!  Now imagine things you need for every part of your day, from brushing your teeth, to hiking, to showering, to sitting around after dark reading, to going to bed, and you begin to see why the list is three pages long.

We use this list because I have found that if I don’t have it to cross off, I will invariably forget something.  From time to time we delete something on the list or add something as our situation changes.  When we were young we didn’t need to take two boxes of medications. 

We keep a backup disk of items saved on the computer.  That list is on it.  Should we ever lose it, I might even be tempted to never go camping again.  I cannot imagine having to remake the list from memory.  More likely, we would remake it around the fire the first night after discovering all the things we forgot.

When we had boys with us, I had other things on the list that were equally important.  In fact, I was probably more careful about their things than mine.  I wanted them to have enough clothes, especially enough warm clothes.  I learned that lesson the hard way when we woke up by a mountain stream one June morning to fifty degree temperatures and they had nothing but shorts and tee shirts to wear.  Fifty degrees in June?  As a Florida native I didn’t even know that was possible, and I felt horrible, quickly mixing up some warm oatmeal and hot chocolate while Keith built a campfire for them to huddle around as they ate.

We are all on a trip every day of our lives.  What have you packed for your children?  Too many parents just let life happen without a plan.  Do you teach them?  Do you talk with them every chance you get about a God who loves them, who made them, and who expects things of them?  Do you discuss the things that happen in their lives and the decisions they made, or perhaps should have made?  Do they know that those decisions will affect their eternal destiny?  Do you allow them to pay the consequences for their mistakes, or do you shelter them?  Do you tell them what the world is really like out there, how to recognize the traps, the enemies in disguise and the true values of life?  Are you sure you have everything they could possibly need to assure their eternal destiny?

Maybe you need to make a list.

We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done. He established a testimony in Jacob and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments; Psalms 78:4-7.

Dene Ward

One of my favorite ways to cook vegetables, especially fresh summer vegetables, is to roast them.  Cut in similar sized chunks squash, zucchini, sweet peppers, onions, eggplant, and anything else that suits you, carrots, fennel, and leeks maybe, sprinkle with salt and pepper, drizzle with olive oil and roast on a baking sheet at 425 degrees for 30-45 minutes, depending upon your oven and the size chunks you cut.  About halfway through, throw in sprigs of fresh marjoram, oregano, rosemary, and thyme, and some minced garlic.  Stir every 15 minutes.  Yummy!

Without water to dilute the flavor, and with high direct heat to caramelize the outsides, the natural flavor of each vegetable concentrates and sweetens.  Dieticians can probably tell you the scientific processes that cause the sugars to creep to the surface and brown, but I don’t need a dietician to tell me this is the best way to eat fresh vegetables.  And every summer when the garden is producing more than we can possibly keep up with, it is also the healthiest.

A few years ago, a good brother teaching 1 Peter 1: 6,7, if need be you have been put to grief by many trials, that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold that perishes, though it is proved by fire…, said that when Christians are tried by fire they are “purifried.”  I think that was a slip of the tongue, but his accidentally coined word has stuck with me ever since. 

I used to pray for God to keep my children from trials in their lives, but I got to thinking one day about some of the things we have been through.  I bet you have a similar list, things so traumatic at the time you can even put a date on them—September 2, 1988, March 16, 1996, February 22, 2002, February 8, 2005.  And that doesn’t count the lesser ones—November 1981, June 1984, and so on.  Do you know what?  We made it through all of them, and we are not the same people today that we would have been if we had never experienced them.

So, to our three precious children, I no longer pray that God will spare you from trials.  But I do pray that your faith will be strengthened to see them through, that you will grow as servants of the Lord, and that your wisdom will increase with each experience.  As your Mom, I can’t help but add, though, “Please, Lord, don’t make them too hard.” 

This is the only way to account for passages such as James wrote in 1:2-4, Count it all joy, my brothers, when you fall into many trials; knowing that the proving of your faith works patience, and let patience have its perfect work that you may be perfect and entire, lacking in nothing.  Those people understood the value of pain.  We all want to lose weight without dieting, slim down and tone up without exercising, grow knowledgeable with studying, but it just won’t happen.  Nor will growth in faith occur without experiencing some difficulties in life. 

How many clichés do we have about this?  “No pain, no gain.” “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”  They are clichés for a reason:  they are true.  All I have to do is look at my garden and my flower beds.  All those carefully tended, watered, and fed plants will die when the drought comes.  Those tough old weeds will grow regardless. 

As to my roasted vegetables, cooking them under high heat sweetens them.  I need to pray that the roasting I undergo will “purifry” me as well.

Wherein you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been put to grief in manifold trials; that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold that perishes, though it is proved by fire, may be found unto praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ; whom not having seen you love, on whom though now you see him not, yet believing, you rejoice greatly with joy unspeakable and full of glory; receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls. 1 Pet 1:6-9

Dene Ward

When I was a city girl, nearly forty years ago, I was scared to death of snakes.  I still don’t like them.  The difference is I can tolerate a non-poisonous one on the property now, trusting they will pay their way with all the rodents they keep out of my house; and when a poisonous one comes along I don’t freeze or run around in circles, screaming in hysteria--I just dispose of the thing.

You know the best way to kill a snake?  Well, it may not actually be the best way, but the city girl in me thinks it’s perfect—a shotgun full of number one shot.  For those of you who are still city folks, that’s a load for large animals, like deer.  We had a rattler once when Keith was at work, and even though I kept from freezing or panicking to the point of uselessness, I still forgot to unload the larger shot and replace it with number four, a load for smaller animals.  That means when I shot that snake with that huge shot, I blew it to smithereens.  As I said, I was extremely satisfied.

Well—mostly satisfied.  The thing kept right on writhing.  Yes, I know all about their reflexes and that they thrash about after death.  But that thing was flexing and re-flexing entirely too much to suit me.  So I got the .22 pistol and put a few more shots in it.  Then, I was satisfied.  When I picked the thing up with the tines of the rake to throw it into the burn barrel, it hung in chunks connected only with a few strings of skin—and it didn’t wiggle at all.  Best looking rattlesnake I ever saw.  The boys can make fun of me all they want, and laugh about it as they have for the past twenty-something years, but that snake was dead and there was no question about it.

Some of us don’t make sure the snake is dead.  In fact, we not only leave it writhing, we put it somewhere for safe keeping just in case it isn’t dead after all.  That’s how we treat repentance.  I know I shouldn’t be indulging, so let me put it up on the shelf instead of down here on the counter top where I can see it every day.  No!  Let’s get it out of the house altogether!  Whatever it is.

It doesn’t have to be a huge sin of the flesh.  It doesn’t have to be a bottle of booze or a stack of pornography.  Sometimes it’s a gossip-fest.  I know that my friend always dishes the dirt, but I still make plans to see her every week.  If for some reason I must see her, then I go with no plan for how to avoid the sin, and yesiree, it pops up and, I just couldn’t help it, Lord.  You know how she talks—and how I listen. 

Whatever it is, God expects me to kill that snake and make sure it’s dead.  Another one may come my way, but there is really no good reason for the same one to be making an appearance over and over.  If it does, I didn’t use the buckshot--I just shot a BB and missed.

Don’t cuddle up to a rattlesnake.  Kill the thing, and make sure it’s dead.

Besides this you know the time, that the hour has come for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. The night is far gone; the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us walk properly as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality, not in quarreling and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. Romans 13:11-14

Dene Ward