A few years ago, we had the coldest winter in years.  While it never went below 20 on my back porch thermometer, we had more consecutive nights in the 20s than I can remember in a long time, and twice had snow in the forecast.  We didn’t get any, but towns not too far north and south of here did.  For nearly two weeks in January the high temperature never climbed over 40.  That is NOT normal in Florida.

            More than any winter in recent times I was glad to have my wood stove sitting in the middle of the house.  When I came in chilled from being outdoors a little too long or damp from the many winter rains, or when I drank just a little too much iced tea for supper, I had a place I could back up to and get warm again. 

            On July 17, 1902, Carrier invented the first air conditioner, which later became central air, and then central heat and air.  As big a boon as that was, especially in the heat of a Florida summer, it lacks something in the winter—no place to go to get warm.  You don’t really want it that warm everywhere in the house.  Washing a sink full of dishes, or baking for a couple of hours in the kitchen would be too uncomfortable.  And who can afford the heating bill if you actually put the thermostat at something over 70?  But having every place in the house under 70 is uncomfortable.

            I remember dressing for school on winter mornings in the warm center hall of our little house, draping my clothes over the door to the oil heater to warm them, and huddling up to it while I waited.  It may have been chilly in the bedroom, but there was always somewhere to go to get warm.  Every home should have a center of warmth somewhere, a place where you feel like you are wrapped in a warm embrace. Every soul should have one too.

            Think about the scenes of comfort and acceptance the Bible speaks of.  Jesus took the little children “into his arms,” (Mark 9:36); John was “reclining in Jesus’ bosom,” (John 13:23); Lazarus died and went to Paradise and lay “in [Abraham’s] bosom,” (Luke 16:23).  It speaks of an intimacy we can only imagine, as Christ was before time in Heaven “in the bosom of the Father,” (John 1:18).  I cannot remember how many times I held a sick child in my lap, wrapping him up in my arms, a blanket over the both of us to keep him warm.  That often made him feel better than the medicine did, if not more so.

            The Lord’s bosom is where we go when the world seems a little too cold; when a spiritual fever wracks our souls and gives us chills; when even a friend greets us with an icy stare, when we are alone and need close contact with someone who loves us.

            God always provides a center of warmth for His children.  Run into His arms and get warm again.
 
He will feed His flock like a shepherd, He will gather the lambs in His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those that have their young, Isa 40:11.
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

Sometimes I hate my parents.

They taught me to be self-analytical, self-critical, and brutally self-honest. And being that way when I’ve just taught a two sermon series on anger is painful. Something at work doesn’t go quite right and I’ll let everyone know that I’m not exactly happy about it. Then I’ll remember “A fool's vexation is presently known; But a prudent man conceals shame.” (Prov. 12:16); and I’ll think to myself “Well, fool, everyone has seen your shameful vexation now, haven’t they?”

The lesson I taught on love isn’t any kinder to me. The old phrase ‘He doesn’t suffer fools gladly’ could probably apply to me. There are a few of my co-workers who could be lumped into the category of fools. Know-it-all teens who don’t know anything and can’t even recognize a logical argument because they don’t know what clear reasoning is. I’ll get so frustrated that I’ll stop trying to help them and let them fall on their faces. Then I’ll think “Love suffers long and is kind. . . is not provoked. . . bears all things. . . endures all things.” When those thoughts run through my head I shout back at myself, “Yeah, but I don’t love this person, I don’t even like this person. He’s never done anything for me and usually is against me.” Then I sigh as I remember “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matt. 5:43)

It’s really easy to “Amen” the preacher on Sunday mornings or nod my head as I read the Bible. Maybe I even think “That’s something I can work on and get better at.” But recognizing the moments in my life when there's a chance to do better is harder. Actually living the Christian life as taught in the Bible on a day-to-day basis is hardest yet. Changing from a hot-headed fool whose vexation is known into a wise man who conceals his shame isn’t something that’s going to happen just because I read those passages or even taught them at Church. It takes daily effort and awareness. It may become more natural in a few years, but I doubt it will ever be easy. The same is true of showing love (as taught in 1 Cor. 13) to people I don’t like. Sometimes acting that way towards people I claim to love isn’t easy! I have to make a decision and then follow-through, with constant self-analysis.

Amen-ing the preacher on Sunday morning is easy. Living the Christian life day-to-day is hard. It requires me to change who I am, to grow into a new (and better) person. It takes a lot of effort. Luckily, God has promised to give me all the strength I need.

Eph. 1:19-20 “and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places”

So, God has promised to help with the same power He used to raise the Lord. Which is good because the more I read the Bible, the more things I find that I need to change. Self-analysis can be painful. Yeah, thanks Mom and Dad.

No, really, thanks.

Lucas Ward

I had a bad spell earlier this spring, a time when I had more pain and could see even less than my new “normal.”  So I sat by the window and watched the birds.

            The sparrows, which usually prefer to fend for themselves in the summer, still flitted and darted by, or sat right down in the trough full of birdseed, being too short to reach from the sides of the feeder.  One little fellow was having a terrible time keeping his balance, though.  More often than not, he fell over in the seed, fluttering and scattering grain up and around, “stoning” his companions with their meal.

            The second time I saw him, he was on the wooden ledge of the feeder, right next to the window on what should have been flat, even footing.  Still, he could barely stand up straight, and often rested on his stomach, heaving great sighs of exertion that puffed up his little breast like a pair of overwrought bellows.  The next time he stood I leaned as closely as I could to the glass and finally saw his problem.  He only had one leg. 

            This little fellow was severely handicapped, despite his wings.  He couldn’t hop just an inch or two without teetering dangerously.  He couldn’t get from one side of the feeder across the trough to the other without flapping his wings and causing consternation among his closest dining companions.  Perhaps the worst problem, he could not fly up to the suet cage and hold on with just one foot.  He kept falling off.  So he tried to hover a couple of times, flapping his wings as hard and fast as he could but was unable to get high enough to reach it. 

            I understood why he didn’t just nestle in the seed and eat to his heart’s content.  The bigger birds often flew low across him, trying to scare him away, and his fellow sparrows would jump at and peck him.  In the animal kingdom compassion is nonexistent.  So this little guy had to fend for himself and do the best he could.  I looked for him every day, wondering how long he would last before a bigger, stronger bird decided it wanted what he had and didn’t care what it took to get it.

            All of us have been one-legged sparrows at times.  We have problems.  We experience trials, pain, and suffering, both physical and emotional.  Just like that little sparrow, we often try to fend for ourselves, refusing to admit when we need help.  I don’t want to let someone close enough to find out what’s going on in my life.  It would make me look bad.  I might have to admit I am not perfect. 

            It’s humiliating to admit my marriage is in trouble.  It’s embarrassing to admit I have a weakness that is about to cost me my soul.  I am ashamed to tell people that I have a problem with my attitude, to communicate my feelings in an intimate manner.  You know what?  Most of the time they know it already, but we cannot get the help we need if we won’t let people in.  Refusing to admit weakness may be the biggest sign of weakness there is--it takes strength to admit we need help.

            I have a theory about all this.  If I cannot ask my brothers and sisters for help, I probably don’t have a real relationship with God either.  The same humility that allows us to go to others also allows us to admit our sin and ask God for grace and forgiveness. 

            A sense of independence may be the worst thing for your spiritual life because Christians must realize they cannot do it alone—whatever “it” is.  God expects them to trust and rely on him.  He has given us a spiritual family designed to help each other.  Christians understand that hopping around like a one-legged sparrow doing his best to survive on his own will ultimately lead to destruction.
           
Behold my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved with whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles. He will not quarrel or cry aloud, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets; a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory, Matt 12:18-20.
 
Dene Ward

My back and feet were aching and my hands cramped from peeling by the time I finished.  The seals on the pint jars of apple butter popped and I started the clean-up of unused jars and lids, the large pot covered with sticky residue, and the measuring cups and spoons.  Finally it was over. 

            The apple tree had borne far more than ever before.  I had made several pies, a couple dozen muffins and a cake, and canned two dozen quarts of applesauce, a gallon of apple juice, a dozen pints of apple jelly, half a dozen quarts of apple pie filling, and finally a half dozen jars of apple butter.

            As I stood over a sink full of soapy water I muttered, “I hope I never see another apple as long as I live.”  The next spring my apple tree died.

            When it became apparent that we couldn’t save the tree, Keith looked at me and muttered something about not really knowing what that might mean—the fact that I could curse a tree and it up and die for no obvious reason so soon afterward.  Just exactly who, or what, was he married to?

            The county agent saved my reputation.  The tree was planted too close to an oak, he said.  Oaks carry a disease that kills fruit trees, especially apples and peaches.  Sure enough, we soon lost our peach tree too.

            All these years later, the story came up again, and with it a new perspective.  Here I had cursed a tree that bore too much, while the Lord cursed one that bore too little. 

            And seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see if he could find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. And he said to it, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again." And his disciples heard it.  And as they passed by it in the morning, they saw the fig tree withered to its roots, Mark 11:13,14,20.

            You might do as I did at first and wonder why the Lord would expect to find figs when it wasn’t fig season.  Yet every commentator I read said that figs produce their fruit before they leaf out.  When the Lord saw a fig tree fully leafed out, he had every right to expect to see some fruit, even if it was small and green.  As a gardener I know that nearly every plant has at least one “early-riser”—a tomato or pepper or blueberry that ripens before the others.  Even if there was nothing ripe, there should have been plenty of fruit hanging there, gradually ripening on the leafy branches.

            Now how about us?  Is anything ripening on our branches?  Is the fruit of the Spirit perhaps still a little green, but nonetheless visible as we become more and more what he would have us be?  Or are we nothing but leafy show: lots of pretty clothes on Sunday morning but behavior like the rest of the world throughout the week?  Lots of talk in Bible class, but no good works in the community?  Quoting catchphrases to our neighbors, but never opening the Book in our own homes?  More concerned with winning arguments than winning souls?

            The Lord will come looking for figs in our lives, more than likely at a season in which we are not expecting him.  He told us we would recognize false teachers by their fruits (Matt 7:16-20).  What will he recognize about us from ours or will there even be any for him to see?
 
And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God, Col 1:9,10.
 
Dene Ward
             
 

Gardeners know about ladybugs.  These tiny beetles can eat up to 50,000 aphids each in their two to three year lifespan.  That isn’t all they eat.  Leaf hoppers and mites and even some types of plant mildew make a meal for them.  You can buy a supply of ladybugs if you want.  I forget the exact numbers, but you can get several thousand for about $25.  Or you could let a bunch of dandelions grow up between the rows of your vegetables.  Evidently those attract ladybugs, but dandelions in the garden?  I don’t think so. 

            We have never had many ladybugs that I have noticed.  A few days ago though, as I bent to weed the okra yet again, I suddenly noticed on the leaf right under my nose an oval orange bug with black spots on it.  A ladybug!  I looked them up afterward, and I think the most interesting discovery was how they fend off their predators.  They give off a stinky secretion from their joints.  They are the skunks of the insect world.

            Several times in the Old Testament you see the phrase, “They became a stench in the nostrils…”  More than once God’s people began to stink up the place, either to the enemy they defeated by the hand of God, or to God himself when they began to live like their enemies.

            The same thing can happen to us.  I remember when we lived in town and occasionally had one of those knocks on the door.  Usually those folks never came back—not because we were rude, but because we obviously knew the word of God and were not afraid to answer the questions they pose to get your interest.  I think the fact that we had an answer to begin with threw them off track.  One time we saw the same people come down our street a few weeks later.  When they got to our property line, they actually crossed the street so they wouldn’t be walking any closer to us than they had to, then crossed back to get to our next door neighbors.  I guess we had begun to smell.

            Funny how the same thing can smell good to one and not the other.  Paul said, For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life, 2 Cor 2:15,16.  When Paul and his entourage preached, some people liked it and some didn’t.  When we live the word of God in front of people, especially when we speak it, the same thing will happen to us.

            Maybe that makes us ladybugs, saving the world from the pests with the sword of the spirit, the word of God, and saving ourselves the same way—repelling our foes with a smell they simply cannot stand—the sweet aroma of redemption.  Isn’t that a good enough reason to get out your vial of God’s perfume this morning, and become a little more familiar with it?  God is counting on us ladybugs.
 
But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.  2 Cor 2:14.
 
Dene Ward

David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the LORD.” And Nathan said to David, “The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” 2Sam 12:13.

            I imagine you recognize the above scripture.  David’s statement immediately follows Nathan’s indictment, “Thou art the man.”  But do you know what immediately follows David’s confession?

            Because God through Nathan declares that David’s punishment will be the death of his child, David immediately begins a week long vigil asking God to spare his son.  “Who knows,” he says, “whether the Lord will be gracious to me that the child may live?”

            How many times have you found yourself sorrowing over a sin in your life, even after a heartfelt repentance, but then felt it presumptuous to even ask God for the smallest thing in your prayers that same day?  How many times have you said, “Not now.  I need to show some real fruit of repentance before I ask God for anything at all.”   How many times have you thought, “Surely He won’t listen to me yet?”  Or even worse, “How can God forgive me?”

            David knew better than that.  He not only recognized his sin and his utter unworthiness (Psalms 32 and 51), he recognized the riches of God’s grace.  We may sing about “Amazing Grace,” but David knew about it.  Maybe it takes just as much faith to believe about grace as it does to believe in God.  I know this:  if you deny that God will forgive you and answer your prayers, you may as well deny Him.
 
But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ— by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. Eph 2:4-7
 
Dene Ward

As morning dawned, the angels urged Lot, saying, “Up! Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, lest you be swept away in the punishment of the city.” But he lingered. So the men seized him and his wife and his two daughters by the hand, the LORD being merciful to him, and they brought him out and set him outside the city. Gen 19:15-16
 
              Here the Lord offers salvation to Lot who, by what we have previously seen, truly believes in the coming destruction and truly hates the sin in Sodom.  But what does he do?  “He lingers…”  And finally, and only because God is merciful and that probably because of Abraham (Gen 19:29), the angels grabbed them all by the hands and pulled them out of the city. 

              How many times do we linger where we have no business being, even after we know we should be gone?  Sin has a pull of its own, and if God were not pulling in the opposite direction, many of us would be gone without a fight.

              But we have talked much about sin in this short series.  How about things that are not necessarily sins?  How about those resolutions we make, not just at the New Year’s dawn, but when suddenly we realize we are not what we should be?  When a lesson suddenly slaps us in the face and we recognize our failures.  How many times have I heard things like, “I am going to start studying more.  In fact, I am going to come to your classes.”  But when reality hits, when they find out it takes work and commitment and maybe canceling a few other things that are a lot more fun, suddenly it is not a priority.

              Most of the members of my classes are older women.  Don’t tell me, “Well, they have the time.”  When we started this class almost thirty years ago, they were the young women with families, and some had jobs too.  Yet they also had their priorities in order.  It is as simple, and as damning, as that.
​
              So you need to make a change of some kind, be it more study, more prayer, more service, or some other neglected virtue.  Then make it, but recognize from the get-go that you will have to leave some things behind in order to make the time.  Don’t “linger” in Sodom.  It will only make the transition more difficult. Jump in with both feet, whatever the change you want to make, and don’t look back.  Before long you will love the new you.
 
When I think on my ways, I turn my feet to your testimonies; I hasten and do not delay to keep your commandments. Ps 119:59-60
 
Dene Ward

So Lot went out and said to his sons-in-law, who were to marry his daughters, “Up! Get out of this place, for the LORD is about to destroy the city.” But he seemed to his sons-in-law to be jesting. Gen 19:14
 
            “And the second is like unto the first,” as the scripture says in another place.  Lot told his sons-in-law of the coming destruction and they laughed in his face.  I can just hear them saying, “Are you crazy, old man?” 

            And that is not the first time that accusation was wielded.  Noah comes to mind.  Maybe this reaction is even older than the one we discussed last time.  Peter warns against it in 2 Peter 3.  “Mockers” will come and make fun of your belief in a final judgment and the end of the world.  Any time you preach something that demands accountability of the sinner, you are a lunatic, an old fuddy-duddy, a spoilsport, a prude, or any of a dozen more rude epithets.  It is yet another universal and timeless attitude, another instance in which we are living in Sodom today.

           But we can ask the same question we did last time.  Has anyone called me those names lately?  Have I talked about God, my Lord, my salvation, my church family, and my hope of Heaven enough that it bothers them?  Have I mentioned Hell at all?

           God expects people to know who we are.  He does not want us hiding in plain sight.  What is important to us should be in our hearts and on our tongues.  Maybe that is the problem:  those things are not really that important to us.  Our faith is an embarrassment.  Remember what Jesus had to say about that?
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So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven. Matt 10:32-33.

           At least Lot acknowledged God, the reality of His authority over us, and our accountability to Him in the coming destruction to those sinful people.  Do we?
 
Dene Ward

What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Eccl 1:9
 
           I was reading through Genesis 19 preparing for a class on Lot’s wife and daughters when suddenly the verse above sprang to mind.  Over and over I saw things I have seen all my life and the thought came unbidden, “We are living in Sodom.” 

            No, I was not thinking about modern issues.  None of the things that I noticed in the text that afternoon had anything to do with that, at least not specifically.  In fact, the things I noticed had been happening through my entire life, even as far back as the 1960s when everyone thinks we were still innocent and relatively godly.  Let’s see if you see what I did.
 
Lot went out to the men at the entrance, shut the door after him, and said, “I beg you, my brothers, do not act so wickedly…But they said, “Stand back!” And they said, “This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge!” Gen 19:6-9
 
           Whenever any moral issue comes up, if you express any sort of disapproval--even if all you do is refuse to participate—suddenly you are accused of “judging.”  Never mind that is exactly what is done to you by this accusation.  That does not matter.  It happened all those thousands of years ago and it happens now.  People have not changed.  If you behave differently than others, you are “judging.”  No one can tolerate being seen as less than righteous, even when righteousness is the last thing on their minds.

            Since it is such a universal, and timeless, reaction, maybe we should ask ourselves this:  Has anyone accused me of being judgmental lately?  If not, why not?  Is it just that I only associate with Christians, with good moral friends and neighbors?  Or is it that I have not expressed any disapproval lately, nor refused to participate, whether it be in gossip, slander, drinking, pornography, foul language, immodest dress, or any other acts a Christian needs to abhor. 
 
           Paul said:  and have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather even reprove them; Eph 5:11.  We do a whole lot better with the first half of that command than the last.  I think it is because we do not want even the mild persecution that comes along with it.  We want to be liked—by the world.  We don’t want to be accused of “judging.”

           Even “righteous Lot” was accused of judging.  Peter says he “was greatly distressed by the conduct of the wicked” (2 Pet 2:7).  Given the rest of his life, do we really want to be viewed as less righteous than he?
 
Being filled with all unrighteousness, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malignity; whisperers, backbiters, hateful to God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, without understanding, covenant-breakers, without natural affection, unmerciful: who, knowing the ordinance of God, that they that practice such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but also consent with them that practice them. Rom 1:29-32
 
Dene Ward

We love this season.  You never know what will pop up where.

            Several years ago we started planting wildflowers, a patch here one year and a patch there the next, babying them for exactly one summer, then letting them do their own thing.  Every spring we eagerly await the results.  Last year black-eyed Susans sprang up where we had never planted them.  This year rain lilies rose in a larger clump and farther from the original bed than you would have thought possible.  The year before a bright yellow coreopsis suddenly bloomed way out in the field amid nothing but grass.  It’s exciting to see what can happen over the years from just one seed sown in the middle of five acres.

            I have had the same experience lately with my old Bible class literature.  Suddenly I received a drop ship order from one of the Bible book stores to an address nearly 2000 miles distant.  Yet the last name, an uncommon one especially considering the relatively small size of the brotherhood, was familiar.  It was the first name I didn’t know.  Was this the daughter, or maybe the daughter-in-law of a woman I taught thirty years ago?  Imagine that.

            Don’t you think the apostles had the same feelings when, years after they had sown the seed in a rough Gentile town, they had news of another group of disciples, or maybe several groups, in the same vicinity?  The power of God’s word screams out from the growth of the church in the ancient world and the way it changed history itself.

            I have had people who knew my parents in their younger years tell me of the things they did for them, things they still remembered and that obviously meant a lot.  Keith has had people come up to him and say, “I still have that letter you wrote me years ago.  It changed my life.”  And, “I remember that class you taught.  It helped me through a rough time.”

            We have opportunities every day to make a difference in someone’s life.  Too many times we ignore them because we don’t believe anything we say or do will make that much difference.  Let me tell you something.  It isn’t yourself you are demeaning by thinking that way—it’s God’s word and His power through that word.  When you help someone, when you speak a word of encouragement, when you act with kindness in a situation where no one else would have bothered, you are tapping into that power yourself and spreading the grace of God to others.  It may be just the “cup of cold water” Jesus mentions in Matt 10:42, but that cup can change a life. 

            I have lost count of the times people have said to me, “I remember when you…”   You know what?  Most of the time, I don’t remember it, but I thank God for sending some small amount of inspiration for me to say the right thing, even though I was perfectly oblivious at the time.  Truly He helps us in every circumstance.   

            When our lives are over, we should be able to walk out into the field and find little patches of grace that came from some seed we sowed, however inadvertently, years before.  Yellow daisies, white rain lilies, blue bachelors’ buttons, pink phlox, red cypress vines—you never know what you will get when you spread the word with an act of kindness or word of compassion--no matter how small it may seem to you!

            So put on your gardening gloves this morning and start planting.
 
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isa 55:10,11.
 
Dene Ward