I looked in the pantry the other day for a box of pasta.  Know what I found?  Spaghetti, penne rigate, orzo, linguini, lasagna, shells, and elbow macaroni.  I stood there at least five minutes trying to figure out which one I wanted to use.  Then I needed vinegar.  There was apple cider vinegar, white vinegar, balsamic vinegar, rice vinegar, white wine vinegar, red wine vinegar, and homemade rosemary vinegar.  That took even longer. 
            I remember the old days when I had spaghetti and macaroni, apple cider vinegar and all purpose white.  I didn’t have enough money in the grocery budget to play around with anything else.  We still aren’t rich, but we are certainly better off than thirty years ago, and being better off has cost me a lot of time lately, trying to figure out what I want to use instead of just grabbing the only thing available and throwing it in the pot.
            That made me wonder what this economy and this culture is costing the Lord’s body.  Things may be changing, but we can still worship without fear.  So what do we do?  Since we don’t face actual physical persecution, we find silly things to fight about among ourselves.  Since we have plenty in the coffers due to our more affluent membership, we argue about what to do with it, and often wind up “burying our money” in bank accounts. 
            In the very old days, the brethren were too busy fighting pagan culture and hostile government to fight among themselves.  In the more recent old days, money was hard to come by for everyone so when they got a little they were quick to share it.  I’ve seen that in secular organizations.  I was involved with a local music teacher’s group that regularly emptied its bank account giving to needy students for lessons and school music programs for supplies.  Then we put together a community cookbook, made $1000 in one month and had to practically pry anything past several members who, once they had gotten a taste of financial security, didn’t want to give it up.
            We often say, “Be careful what you wish for.”  When we can read in the scriptures of churches so poor they didn’t have enough themselves but still begged to be a part of the giving, I think I understand why wealth is such a dangerous thing.  When things are so easy for us that we look for petty things to fight about, Satan is using that wealth, that security, that life of ease to tear us apart and make us ineffective at the mission God has set before us. 
            Maybe that’s why persecution is looked at favorably in so many passages.  Maybe that’s why wealth in the New Testament is never pictured as anything but dangerous. 
            I just looked in my pantry again.  I have all-purpose flour, cake flour, bread flour, almond flour, semolina flour, 00 pizza flour, and whole wheat flour.  Despite my protestations, I am too wealthy. 
            It’s time to go fix dinner.  I don’t know whether to use the basmati rice, the brown rice, or the Arborio rice.  Do you know what to do with the blessings you have?
 
We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God that has been given among the churches of Macedonia, for in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part. For they gave according to their means, as I can testify, and beyond their means, of their own accord, begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints-- and this, not as we expected, but they gave themselves first to the Lord and then by the will of God to us.
2 Corinthians 8:1-5
 
Dene Ward

Too many couples make this one sad mistake.  Things might seem to be going along smoothly, but finally, one day they will realize what they did wrong, and what they have lost in the process, and it might be too late to get it back.
            I remember exactly what we were doing.  We were on the way home, my mother driving while my sister and I sat in the backseat.  She pulled into the left turn lane on 56th Street and as we sat there waiting for the traffic to clear so we could head home, she said, "Girls.  You know I love you both very much.  You are my sweet girls, and I am so proud of you.  But you also need to know this one important thing:  your Daddy will always be first to me.  It doesn't mean I don't love you.  It just means he is the most important part of my life and that's the way it's supposed to be. Okay?"
            I was a young teenager at the time, no more than 14, and my sister about 10.  Somehow, probably her voice and demeanor—in spite of the fact that she was driving—told me that this was important and I should remember it.  Here I am over five decades later and now I know.  Yes, it was important, and it was important for us to hear it because within six years I had a husband and I needed to make certain that no matter how much I loved my children—and I was a fierce mother, let me tell you—I needed to know that he must come first. 
            The marriage must be the center of the family, not the children, for so many reasons.  First, one of these days those children will fly the nest.  In fact, that is a parent's job—to make sure they do, and that they know how to.  What happens when they are all gone if you have neglected your marriage?  You find yourself married to a stranger.  I have seen marriages disintegrate at that stage for exactly that reason.  "We have grown apart."  Nonsense—you just neglected your relationship.  Marriage is high maintenance.  If you do not take care of it, it will die.
            Second, you are supposed to be showing your children how to run a home, and that means showing them a strong marriage at its center.  This is how to keep the relationship alive in spite of growing responsibilities and the stresses of life.  You rely on one another and you support one another.  If she has a down time, he lifts her up.  When he has trials and struggles, she is there to help him.  When you show them these things, you insure that their own marriages will work better.
            Third, the children need to learn early on that they are not the center of the universe.  No one else will treat them that way, so if you do, you are setting them up for a hard fall.  Their teachers, their bosses, even their friends (if they have any) will not treat them that way.  It will be a very hard lesson to learn.  I have seen fathers give up a chance for a promotion because their children did not want to move away from their friends.  I have seen mothers nearly run the family bankrupt trying to get everything a child thinks s/he simply "must" have.  Here's a clue:  no one likes entitled, ungrateful people.  If you want your children to grow into good and kind people, do not let them run your home.  It will cause a disaster sooner or later.  Teach them, instead, how to be part of a loving group that works together for the good of all.          
            And then there is this simple fact.  The marriage is the center of the home because it is the foundation of it all.  If the marriage is stable, no matter how catastrophic the ordeal the family is going through, it is far more likely to survive.  Your children should know that they always have you to look up to when things get tough.  That you will show them how to get through hard times.  They need to see the two of you leaning on one another, while at the same time welcoming them into your sheltering, but tightly clasped together, arms. 
            My mother was right.  Yet, even though I knew my Daddy came first with her, I never doubted that she loved me.  Your children need to know that too.
 
And Jehovah God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof:  and the rib, which Jehovah God had taken from the man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.  And the man said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.  Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh, Gen 2:21-24.
 
Dene Ward

Our bird watching has spilled over into our camping trips.  Somewhere along the way it dawned on us that we could see different birds in different areas of the country.  So we began carrying small bags of birdseed and scattering it around the campsites.  I saw my first savannah sparrow at Blackwater River, my first nuthatch at Cloudland Canyon, and on our latest trip, my first dark-eyed junco at Black Rock Mountain.
            That’s not all we saw.  We had laid the seed along the landscaping timbers that both defined the site and kept our little aerie from washing down the mountainside.  As long as we sat fairly still and talked quietly, the little gray birds with the white vests hopped closer and closer down the long chunk of weathered wood, pecking at the free and easy meal.  Suddenly a loud crunch behind us caused the birds to fly.  We turned and there sat a fat gray squirrel enjoying the free meal himself, and much more of it.
            “Shoo!” we yelled simultaneously.  He reached down and pawed another kernel.
            Keith hopped up and spun around his chair, clapping his hands with every “Git!” and every step.  Finally the squirrel hopped away, not nearly as scared as I wished.
            Since he was up anyway, Keith started the cook fire and I walked around the tent toward the back of the truck where we stowed our food supplies.  There on the other side of the tent sat the squirrel, once again noshing on the birdseed.
            “Scat!” I shouted, running right at him.  Again he turned and leisurely hopped away.
            After that we were up and around a bit and he kept his distance.  But soon Keith had stepped back into the woods to pick up some deadfall for a later fire in the evening while he waited for the flame to die down to coals, and I was in the screen tent setting the table and prepping the chops for grilling.  I looked up just in time to see that little marauder headed straight for the open screen door, gently waving in the breeze.  He had bypassed the birdseed and was aiming to score people food.
            Only my clumsiness and advancing years kept me from vaulting the table.  Instead, I ran around it, knocking both knees on the corner of the bench and nearly laming myself in the process, stomping, yelling, clapping, and every other noise I could manage.  For once he showed a little alarm and scooted through the brush surrounding us.
            Keith returned and we both bustled around the tents, the truck, and the fire, cooking and laying out the meal.  Half an hour later we sat down to inch thick, herb-rubbed, wood-grilled pork chops, Spanish rice, and skillet corn and red peppers.  Meanwhile, the squirrel sat down to more birdseed.  He crept up behind Keith, he crept up behind me.  He hopped along the timber behind the fire, then tried the one behind the tent.  Every time Keith jumped up and scared him off.
            After the sixth or seventh time that I touched Keith’s hand and pointed, he hung his head in defeat.  “Let him eat,” he said, ferociously stabbing a fork into his chop and sawing with far more exertion than necessary, “so I can.”
            That’s exactly the way Satan comes after us.  Do you need a Biblical example to believe this?  How about Potiphar’s wife (Genesis 39)?  She appealed to Joseph’s natural appetites first, by far the strongest appeal to a young man.  She made it look rewarding—she was the Master’s wife after all, imagine the extra privileges he might have received.  She spoke to Joseph “day by day,” a constant and growing pressure on him.  Even though he seems to have made it his business to avoid her, finally she managed to catch him alone—now it was even easier to give in.  And boy, did she make him pay when he didn’t.
            Satan is persistent.  He comes from every angle and tries every trick.   Sometimes he comes as often as every few minutes.  He will never give up.  Even just fighting him will cost you—time, comfort, convenience, security, wealth, friends, freedom, maybe even your life.  But if you give up, the cost is even worse.  If you say, “Let him eat,” he will—he will “devour” your eternal soul, every last bite.
 
Be sober, be watchful: your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, prowls about, seeking whom he may devour…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…To that end keep alert with all perseverance…1 Peter 5:8; Ephesians 6:11-13, 18.
 
Dene Ward

One of the most challenging aspects of studio teaching is switching horses midstream.  Every forty-five minutes I not only had to rev up the excitement when greeting a new student, I had to change my perspective.
            I had one voice student who could scarcely carry a tune.   We spent a good deal of the lesson practicing matching pitches.  The next student was singing Italian art song and learning to trill.  One I applauded for simply getting through the song in key, the other I reprimanded for breathing in the middle of a word.  A five year old piano student would walk in with her eight bar tune, followed by a senior in high school working on a concerto.  One I praised for playing the right rhythm while only missing two notes.  The other I castigated for poor phrase shaping and improper execution of an appoggiatura.  It would have been unfair to expect a five year old to understand an appoggiatura when he didn’t even know key signatures yet.  It would have been cruel to try to teach a voice student with a challenged ear to trill.
            So I should not have been surprised at what I found in this study of faith that has consumed the past year of my life, but I was.  I wonder if it will surprise you too.  Every time Jesus said, “O ye of little faith,” he was talking to his disciples.  Sometimes other people heard it too, but if you check every account, he was addressing those who followed him daily—“ye of little faith.”  Yet the only times I could find people praised for their “great faith” they were Gentiles!
            That tells me a lot.  First, faith isn’t just a one-time first principle.  If even those who had enough faith to “leave all and follow” could be told their faith was “little,” then faith is something alive and growing.  Jesus expected it to carry them through their lives and become an asset to them, not a burden that might be “lost.” 
            Perhaps the most important thing we learn is something Jesus said in another context:  To whom much is given, of him much shall be required, Luke 12:48.  Those men had been with Jesus 24/7 for a year or more and he expected them to have matured.  I know a lot of people who like to claim they have “strong faith.”  Be careful when you do that.  God may just test your claim: “and from whom they entrusted much, they will demand the more.” 
            So examine your faith.  Is it growing?  Can you handle more adversity today than you did a decade ago?  God expects quick growth.  The people in the first century committed their lives to Him, knowing they might be thrown to the lions the next week.  I worry that too many of us commit our lives to Him expecting all of our problems to disappear in a week.  It’s supposed to be an instant fix to all earthly woes, instead of what He promised--an instant fix to our sins. 
            What exactly are you expecting of your relationship with God?  Some of us try to hold God hostage with our expectations.  “I have faith that God will…” and then we sit back confidently waiting for him to do our will, instead of waiting on His will. 
            Which would the Lord say to you:  “O ye of little faith,” or “I have not found so great faith, no not in Israel?”
 
But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. 1 Timothy 6:11-12.                                              
 
Dene Ward
 

The 1930s were famous for more than one disaster.  Besides the Great Depression they were also known as the Dirty Thirties.  Drought, over-farming, and over-grazing turned the once fertile land of the Great Plains into the Dust Bowl.  100 million acres of farmland were affected.  Dozens of massive dust storms blew through every year of that decade. 
            Those storms were far more dangerous than we realize.  All during that decade, schools were often closed to prevent "dust pneumonia" in those traveling back and forth.  If the children were already at school when a storm began, they were often kept overnight to keep them out of the filthy air. Cars drug chains behind them to ground them due to the high voltage static electricity that the dust caused and which led to several electrocutions.  People knew to sweep the dust off their roofs, but they forgot that dust seeps into cracks and many attics collapsed on the families beneath.
            After reading all that I knew that my incredibly dust-producing house was not as bad as I always thought.  Still, though, it is the dustiest place we have ever lived. A few weeks ago I got out the dust rags and the polish and went to work.  It had been over two months since I had dusted anything at all and it was showing, not just on the furniture, but in my nose and lungs—I have a dust mite allergy. 
            I knew it would take awhile and it did, dusting every flat surface and every item on them, including a large dinner bell collection, vases from Bethlehem and Nicaragua, and those porcelain bootee-shaped vases that flowers had come in when the boys were born, figurines inherited from grandmothers and great-aunts, a wooden airplane Keith’s grandfather whittled inside an empty bottle, candles, telephones, a small piano collection, a metronome, fan blades, jewelry boxes, and beaucoup picture frames.  I dirtied up four rags in an hour and a half, sneezed a couple dozen times, and required a decongestant in order to breathe the rest of the day.
            When I finished I looked around.  The pictures all reflected brightly in the wood they sat on, the porcelain shone, the candles looked a shade brighter, and the brass gleamed.  What a difference it made to dust things off.
            So what do you need to dust off in your life?   Sometimes we become satisfied with our place in the kingdom, happy with where we are in our spiritual growth, comfortable in our relationships with others and our ability to overcome.  Sometimes we sit so long in our comfortable spot, be it a literal pew or a figurative one, that we soon sport our own layer of dust.  Maybe we aren’t doing anything wrong exactly, we have just stopped stretching ourselves to be better and do more. 
            “Dusting off” seems a good metaphor for “renewal.”  Paul tells the Colossians we have “put off our old selves” (past tense) but that the new self is “being renewed” (present tense), Col 3:9,10.  Being renewed has not stopped and never should.  Every day is a new beginning for the child of God.  When we forget that, the dust starts to settle, and our light is dimmed with a layer of uselessness that builds every minute.  Soon, as the light weakens, no one will notice us, or is that the point?
            When did you last dust yourself off and get to work, “transforming yourself by the renewing of your mind?” Rom 12:2.  That layer of dust will build and build until it collapses on your unsuspecting spirit, giving you a case of dust pneumonia from which you may never recover.
 
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me, Psalms 51:10.
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by Robert F, Turner

Alone! Alone! What a stark, bleak, terror-filled word. Solitary confinement is one of man's most dreaded and destructive punishments. Who has not felt the agony of being excluded and left alone? Bold and strong Elijah wilted under its lash and cried out, "It is enough; now, 0 Lord, take away my life; ... I have been very jealous for the Lord God of Hosts ... and I, even I only, am left" (1 King. 19:4,10) No wonder God examined his creation and said, "It is not good that man should be alone" (Gen. 2:18). Nor is it surprising that Jesus gave special attention to his disciples when it was time to leave them. He assured them that they would not be left alone — orphans (Jno. 14:18). "I will pray the Father and he will give you another comforter" — one called to the side — "that he may abide with you forever" (Jno. 14:16).

God provided for man so that he would not have to be alone. First, he put man in the family. To Adam he gave "a help meet for him." — or a helper suitable to his needs. Family was endowed with the strongest and closest human ties — a refuge against being alone. Likewise, God gave the nation to meet man's social needs for "no man lives to himself." Finally the local church was designed to put together men of like faith and hope in God. God knew that in spiritual matters "it is not good that man should be alone." Few — if any — can make it alone. We are members "in particular" but solidly joined to the other members. None stands alone.

By design, the family, nation, and the local church should support and protect a man as he strives to serve God. Often that is not the case. The Lord prepared his disciples for being outcasts from family and society. And churches run by men like Diotrephes "cast out" righteous men. Even so, he is not alone. "At my first answer no man stood with me... notwithstanding the Lord stood with me:" (2 Tim. 4:16). We always have an advocate — a friend by our side.

When "all men forsake" us, we must not allow that to distort our values and perspective. Elijah did. Things were not as black as he painted them. "I only am left." There were seven thousand who had not bowed to Baal. His perspective was warned. "Take my life" shows his values are out of focus. Many decide to go to hell with a crowd rather than stand alone.

Yet there are places we must go alone. No comrade can stand at our side. In the garden, Jesus prayed alone; the disciples were left behind. They could not share his pain or his prayer. He was alone in his sorrow. We also must meet sorrow alone. Our friends encourage; they want to help. They weep with us, but it is ours alone in the last analysis. We say, "There is nothing you can do." Again, duty stands us alone. Brethren exhort but I alone can do my job -- "For every man shall bear his own burden" (Gal. 6:5). And at last consider the final judgement where I stand alone even in so great a crowd. Churches and crowds are not judged here, but "every man ... receiving the things done in his body ... good or bad" (2 Cor. 5:10).
 
Robert F Turner

I still have fond memories of Silas’s first solo visit with us out here in the country.  He was not quite four and stayed three nights alone, no mom and dad to get in the way and spoil the fun!  The first morning we had to assure him that walking outside barefoot was not a capital crime, but once his toes hit the cool green grass, he giggled delightedly.  “I like bare feet!” he instantly proclaimed, and took off running. 
            He was used to being inside all day, playing with his Matchbox cars, putting together puzzles, reading books, and watching his “shows,” educational though they might be.  Yet he found out there were a lot of fun things to do outside, especially when you have five acres to romp around in instead of a postage stamp-sized yard.  That’s all they give you in the city these days. 
            He and Granddad whacked the enemy weeds with green limb “swords.”  They pulled the garden cart up the rise to the carport and rode it down.  They dug roads in the sandy driveway and flew paper airplanes in the yard.  They played in the hose and threw mud balls at one another.  Every night this little guy went to bed far earlier than he usually did at home—it was that or pass out on the couch from exhaustion as we read Bible stories.
            My favorite memory is watching him as we walked Chloe every morning.  He begged for one of my walking sticks and I adjusted it to his height.  Then he ran on ahead, hopping and skipping along, holding granddad’s too-big red baseball cap on his head with one hand so it wouldn’t fall off, the walking stick dangling from the other upraised arm, singing and laughing as he went.  That picture of sheer joy will forever be etched in my memory.  He may have been too little to remember it himself, but someday I will tell him about it, someday when he needs a reminder of joy at a not so joyous time. 
            I remember that time nearly every morning when I walk Chloe, especially when we reach the back fence where Silas’s little feet suddenly took off on the straightaway and his laughter reached its peak.  And I wonder if God has anything etched in His memory, anything from that time in Eden when everything was perfect and his two children felt joy every day in their surroundings, in each other, and in Him.  Surely, the God who knows all has special memories of how it used to be.  Can you read the end of Revelation and not think so? 
            Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever, Revelation 22:1-5.
            Maybe God has recorded that so we, too, can be reminded not of what we have lost, but of what we have waiting for us.  Maybe He put it there for the times when life here is not so joyous, a picture of hope to carry us through.  It may not be etched in our memories—not yet—but the fact that He still remembers it and wants it, means someday we won’t have to count on etchings any longer.  Some day it will all be real once again.

Dene Ward
 

We just spent a week with the grandkids.  When it comes to food, they are just like mine were at that age.  They prefer their oranges out of a can, their macaroni and cheese out of the blue box, their chicken cut into processed squares, and their potatoes long and fried.  Forget the complex and strong flavors of Parmagiana Reggianno, feta, and bleu—they want American cheese, thank you.  And all their sauces must be sweet—about half corn syrup.  True, these two enjoy olives—but they need to be canned and black.  A strong, briny kalamata is summarily thrown across the table.
            Children have immature palates.  For the most part strong flavors are out and bland ones are in.  Sugar, salt and fat make up their favorite seasonings.  And it must be easy to eat.  When you can barely hold a spoon and get the food on it and into your mouth, you prefer things that are solid without being hard and which fit the hand.  We would never give a child a fresh artichoke to eat, with instructions like “Peel off the leaf, dip it into lemon juice and melted butter, put it between your teeth and pull it out of your mouth, scraping the good part off as you pull, then discard the leaf.” 
            One day they will understand the pleasure of different tastes and textures.  Their palates will become educated to appreciate different foods and even different cuisines.  Even the pickiest of childhood eaters usually learn as adults to eat new things, if for no other reason than to be polite or keep harmony in the home.  When a woman spends hours a day cooking, she wants more than a grunt and food being shoved around the plate in an attempt to disguise the fact that very little of it was eaten. 
            But sometimes people become set in their ways.  They decide they don’t like something, even if they have never tried it.  They won’t entertain the possibility that their palates have changed, and so won’t keep trying things as they become older.  When I was a child I hated every kind of cheese, raw onions, and anything that contained a cooked tomato.  Now I eat them all.  Imagine if I had never found that out.  No pizza!
            What about your spiritual nourishment?  Are you still slurping down canned oranges and packaged mac and cheese?  Do you still think instant mashed potatoes are as good as real ones, and Log Cabin as good as real maple syrup?  What if the Bible class teacher taught a book you had never studied before?  Would you learn with relish or complain because you actually had to read it instead of relying on your old canned knowledge?  What if he showed you a different interpretation of a passage than you usually hear?  Would you chew on it a little and really consider it, or just dismiss it out of hand because it wasn’t what you already thought you knew?
            Keith and I have both experienced complaints from people because our classes were “too deep” or “too hard” or “took too much study time.”  Really?  It’s one thing to have an immature palate because you are still a babe.  It’s another to have one because you haven’t grown up in twenty, thirty, forty years of claiming discipleship. 
            The spiritual palate can tell tales on our spiritual maturity in every other area.  Jesus expected his disciples to mature in just a few short years.  “Have I been with you so long and you still do not know me?” he asked Philip (John 14:9).  If we don’t know his word, we don’t know him.  If we don’t know him, we have no clue how to behave as Christians.
            An educated palate for spiritual food is far more important than whether you have learned to like liver yet.  Become an adventurous spiritual eater.  You will find this paradox: though you become hungrier for more, you are always satisfied with your meal.
 
For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil. Hebrews 5:12-14.
 
Dene Ward

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 converts 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

I was a college girl, just a year older than Patricia Hearst, the heiress to the Hearst publishing empire, when a group calling itself the Symbionese Liberation Army kidnapped her from her off-campus apartment in San Francisco.  Two months later, on April 15, 1974, she appeared on grainy black and white security camera footage helping those same captors rob a bank.
            She was eventually captured and sent to prison for awhile because the jury could not accept the psychiatrist’s diagnosis of Stockholm Syndrome, a malady officially named after a bank robber kept hostages in a Stockholm bank vault for 131 hours.  Like Patty Hearst, they emerged from the ordeal exhibiting sympathy for their captors.  The mind does strange things when under stress. 
            Doctors say this happens when the abductors constantly tell the victim there is no hope, that no one knows where he is and no one will rescue him.  They spin lies about their own “mistreatment,” while abusing the victim at the same time.  They tell the victim he is going to die, repeating it not just once, but over and over.  Then for some unaccountable reason they do something nice for that same victim.  The victim grows not only to depend upon his captor, but to identify with him as well.  That is Stockholm syndrome, and anyone who has struggled with sin should recognize the symptoms.
            But I see a different law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity under the law of sin which is in my members, Romans 7:23.
            In meekness correcting them that oppose themselves; if peradventure God may give them repentance unto the knowledge of the truth, and they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, having been taken captive by him unto his will, 2 Timothy 2:25-26.
            Sin abducts a man and tells him lies like the one Satan told Eve—“God is just selfish, you won’t die--you’ll be just like him.”  It tells him he’s stupid to listen to anyone else.  It tells him that no one else cares, that no one can save him, and that he will die anyway, so why not die having fun?  Satan, the father of all lies, tells the captive that he is the only one who really cares and the only one who can do anything for him.  Satan is the one who started Stockholm syndrome, not that bank robber in Sweden.
            We tell people over and over that sin is deceptive, that once you are in you may never get out.  Sooner or later you reach a point where you won’t listen to anyone.  …being darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God, because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the hardening of their heart; who being past feeling gave themselves up to lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness, Ephesians 4:18-19.
            What scares me is this doesn’t have to be heinous sin to work.  People who spend their days gossiping will become impervious to any sermons on the subject.  Satan has told them, “You’re only trying to help,” and they believe him.  People who begin every sentence about a person with, “I’ll never forget when he did [this] to me,” will never heed the lesson about the unforgiving servant who was handed over to the torturers for his lack of mercy.  “That’s different,” Satan tells them, and they believe that too.  Any sin can deceive you.  Any sin can take you captive, even the smallest.
            What can we do?  Never excuse sin in yourself.  Look to Jehovah, the Psalmist says in 25:15, and he will pluck you out of the net—he’ll rescue you from those abductors.  Exhort one another, the Hebrew writer says in 3:13, so that you won’t be so easily deceived.  Prove the spirits, John tells us in 1 John 4:1, and look for the way of escape Paul adds in 1 Cor 10:13. 
            Don’t open the door when Satan knocks.  Don’t let yourself be taken captive.
 
But I see a different law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity under the law of sin which is in my members. Wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me out of the body of this death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord...There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus made me free from the law of sin and of death. Romans 7:23-8:2
 
Dene Ward