A chance remark by an acquaintance has never affected me quite so much.
 
             These were new neighbors, mostly just nodding acquaintances over the south fence line.  But the wife was a social creature who had been uprooted from her friends and moved thirty miles into the country by her husband's retirement dreams.  As soon as I introduced myself, she was ready for a new friendship.

              He, on the other hand, was a bit aloof and quite full of himself, quick and eager to list his life's accomplishments, most of which involved making money, and we didn't have any so we couldn't be too important.  Still, she had talked enough about us to him that he knew the basics. 

              I had traipsed through the woods one morning for a cup of coffee, and as we sat there, he came in from an early morning golf foursome.  To his credit, he sat down for a bit of conversation.

              "Did you see the movie…" he began, but quickly stopped and amended, "Oh no, you're a Christian.  You wouldn't have seen that movie."

              That has stuck with me for years.  Too many times I hear my brethren arguing about what is or isn't a sin.  Most of the time, it's something one of them wants to do, or already is participating in that the other one has questioned.  Isn't it odd that the world knows exactly what a Christian ought not to be doing while some Christians seem mystified?

              Of course I understand that "what the world thinks" is NOT to be our barometer of authority.  But Paul told the Corinthian church they were accepting something "that is not even tolerated among the Gentiles," 1 Cor 5:1.  When he lists the works of the flesh in Gal 5:19-21, he begins with, "The works of the flesh are obvious," and ends with "and anything similar."  The way some argue, you would think that what is and isn't appropriate behavior for a Christian is some nebulous, hard to decipher principle.  God, through his apostle, says that anyone with an ounce of brainpower can figure it out.

              What does it say about us when we cannot?
 
“Therefore thus says the LORD: Ask among the nations, Who has heard the like of this? The virgin Israel has done a very horrible thing.  Does the snow of Lebanon leave the crags of Sirion? Do the mountain waters run dry, the cold flowing streams?​  But my people have forgotten me; they make offerings to false gods; they made them stumble in their ways, in the ancient roads, and to walk into side roads, not the highway, making their land a horror, a thing to be hissed at forever. Everyone who passes by it is horrified and shakes his head. (Jer 18:13-16)

Dene Ward

It must be a sign of age.  I find myself reminiscing a lot more lately.  When we walked the property with Lucas last Thanksgiving we talked more about the past than the present.  Certainly more than the future—which for us is suddenly so much smaller than the past.

              “Remember the wild myrtles by the fire pit?”

              “Yes, we sometimes hung a tarp on the branches so we could scoot under it and have a hot dog roast even in a drizzle.”

              “Remember the pine tree in the field?”

              “Yep.  That was first base.”

              “Remember how small these oak trees used to be?”

              “Yes.  I used to climb up limbs that are too rotten to trust any longer, what there are left of them.”

              I remember wondering what it would be like after the boys were grown, when we were living here alone in a quiet house and an empty yard.  No more wondering, only remembering.

              I have said to more than one who came seeking advice that looking back on our past can be helpful.  If you despair at ever becoming the Christian you ought to be, look where you were ten years ago.  Can you see any improvement?  Can you say to yourself, “I don’t act that way now,” about anything at all?  God meant for us to be encouraged, and I find nothing in the scriptures telling me I can’t take a moment every now and then to check my progress and use it as a gauge, both to spur myself on if I see none, and to invigorate my growth with any positive impetus it gives me.

              Many times we quote Paul’s comment to the Philippians, “Forgetting the things that are behind…” (3:13). In fact, I have heard preachers say we shouldn’t think about the past at all.  But Paul didn’t believe that.  He remembered all his life where he started, “the chief of sinners,” 1 Tim 1:16.  He used that memory to keep himself humble before others and grateful to God for the salvation granted him. It bolstered his faith enough to endure countless hardships and persecutions.  As a “chief sinner” he could hardly rail against God for the tortures he suffered when he knew he deserved so much more.

              God has always wanted his people to remember the past.  I lost count of the passages in Deuteronomy exhorting Israel to remember that they were slaves in a foreign country, and that God loved them enough to deliver them with His mighty hand.  Here is a case, though, where the reminding didn’t work as it did for Paul.  Still, God tried.  What is the Passover but a reminder of their deliverance from Egypt?  What is the Feast of Tabernacles but a reminder of His care for them in the wilderness?  What was the pot of manna in the Ark of the Covenant, the stones on the breastplate of the ephod, and the pile of rocks by the Jordan but the same?  “Remember, remember, remember!” God enjoined.  It’s how we use that memory that makes it right or wrong.

              Paul says we are to remember what we used to be.  “And such were some of you,” he reminds the Corinthians in chapter 6, after listing what we consider the worst sins imaginable.  You “were servants of sin” he reminds the Romans in 6:17.  You once walked “according to the course of this world,” “in vanity of mind,” “in the desire of the Gentiles,” and in a host of other sins too numerous to list (Eph 2:2; 4:17; 1 Pet 4:3; Col 3; Titus 3.)  Those memories should spur us on in the same way they prodded Paul.  Nothing is too hard to bear, too much to ask, or too difficult to overcome if we remember where we started.  Be encouraged by your growth and take heart.

              And then this: let your gratitude be always abounding, overflowing, and effusive to a God who loves us in whatever state we find ourselves, as long as that growth continues.
 
Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called "the uncircumcision" by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands-- remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ, Ephesians 2:11-13.
 
Dene Ward

Air plants are epiphytes, which means they grow without soil.  They grow naturally on tree limbs or trunks, and can easily be grown in a terrarium indoors—usually those clear round balls people hang in their windows.  They do need watering once a week, and then they need to be allowed to dry out before they are watered again so they won't rot, but otherwise it is pretty hard to kill an air plant.  Some garden shops even call them "unkillable," which is surprising since it looks like we have managed to kill one.
 
             A neighbor gave us a staghorn fern.  It is large, probably weighing in at about forty pounds.  No, we did not kill that one, which would have amounted to burying good money in the ground.  Those things are worth a pretty penny.  Our neighbor has been offered several hundred dollars for her hundred pound specimen.  But we did remove two of the babies from ours, place them in nylon netting and then hang them on one of live oak trunks.  One is doing great, already producing more fronds, but the other is on its last legs, so to speak.  It has been that way for at least two months, which tells me this:  air plants may not be unkillable, but they certainly take a long time to die.

              I think I have seen a few air plants on the pews on Sunday mornings.  I guess they take in enough nutrients from the "atmosphere" they sit in to hang on for a good while.  Yet they never grow, they never bloom and put out new growth, and eventually they turn brittle and gray.  Finally they starve to death and completely dry up.  You would, too, if you only ate one small meal a week. 

              Those spiritual air plants may take years to finally give it up.  The thing is, even a dry, gray air plant can be revived with a good soak in the water.  If we find ourselves at death's spiritual door, we need a good soak in the Living Water to revive us.  After that, it's up to us to keep on growing, taking in what we need to not only survive, but thrive.  Then we can truly be "unkillable."
 
Be horrified at this, heavens; be shocked and utterly appalled. This is the LORD’s declaration.  For My people have committed a double evil: They have abandoned Me, the fountain of living water, and dug cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that cannot hold water. (Jer 2:12-13)

​Jesus said, “Everyone who drinks from this water will get thirsty again.  But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never get thirsty again — ever! In fact, the water I will give him will become a well of water springing up within him for eternal life.” (John 4:13-14)
 
Dene Ward