You think Black Friday is bad?  I was reading through some historical trivia and found this:  one day in 1944, guards and floorwalkers at a Chicago department store were trampled by 2500 women storming the store doors for 1500 alarm clocks that had been announced for sale.  Alarm clocks?  In March?  What in the world was that about?  I did a little checking but with my severely limited equipment I was unable to find the exact store and the exact price on those clocks, or what made them so special.  It must have been some sale, though, or some alarm clock.
            Isn’t it a shame that the doors of meetinghouses all over this country aren’t stormed in a similar way every Sunday?  Isn’t it heartbreaking that we can hardly get a neighbor to study with us until he experiences some sort of horrible tragedy in his life?  Isn’t it a travesty beyond measure that God can say, “I have something for you that is absolutely free,” and hardly anyone cares? 
            Buy the truth and sell it not, the Proverb writer says in 23:23, adding yea, buy wisdom, instruction, and understanding.  Don’t you wish they were for sale?  What I wouldn’t give for the wisdom to better handle this life, for direct instruction from God when I am floundering about, wondering what to do, and to know the truth about every question I have or am asked. 
            The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it. Matthew 13:44-46.  I have brethren who won’t even give up their time on the weekends much less be willing to sell everything they own for a place in that kingdom.
            We may have a good head for numbers and be able to plan what we think of as a secure future for ourselves, but our definition of security is wrong.  God told his people in Isa 55:2 and 3, Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may live; and I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.  Moses even earlier had said, Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God, Deut 8:3.
            As smart as we think we are, one of these days we will learn unequivocally that we have placed value on the wrong things.  Real faith does not “rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God,” and “surpassing power belongs to God and not to us,” 1 Cor 2:5; 2 Cor 4:7.
            Not so, we say with our deeds, if not our words: “God has no idea how to handle money!”  We may boast of our faith, but our actions often belie it and at the same time accuse God of being a fool.
            For what would you be willing to camp outside all night in the cold in order to buy at first light?  For what would you pound on the doors of the store?  For what would you pay a jacked-up price because you want it so badly, or tear out of another’s hand at the risk of losing your own?  Why are we so enamored of “things” and think so little of the spiritual wealth God offers for free every day?
 
I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth. For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see. Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent. Revelation 3:15-19
 
Dene Ward

A few years ago. after an unseasonable two weeks in the month of January that left our azaleas and blueberries blooming, the live oak leaves falling by the bushel, and the air conditioner humming away instead of the woodstove, we finally had a night in the thirties and woke February 1 to frost on the ground—and on all those blooms.
            Keith rose earlier than usual to start the sprinkler on the blueberries so when the sun hit them as it climbed behind the trees in the eastern woods, the frost would be washed off and the blooms left undamaged.  He also built a small fire in the fire pit beside them, pulled together from the remains of a fire we had enjoyed the night before with a cup of hot chocolate. 
            Ever since we moved to this plot of ground we have had a fire pit for hot dog fires and marshmallow roasts.  Now with the boys gone, we still like to sit there on a cold night and talk.  We sit there in the mornings too, if coals remain, and some did that day, so, thanks to a considerate husband, I had a fire to warm me along with my second cup of coffee.
            The world was waking up.  Wrens warbled loudly in the shrubs, in between perches on the suet cage.  The hawks cried out as they flew overhead, hunting breakfast.  A neighbor’s cow bawled so loudly I wondered if it needed milking or was just hungry.  Frosted off brown grass may be crunchy, but probably doesn’t offer much nourishment.
            I watched the small fire and scratched Chloe’s furry head.  Suddenly the wood shifted, and the whole fire lowered a bit as the wood beneath completely lost its framework and became nothing but ashes.  Slowly and surely the rest began to burn and fall, and within a few minutes only a twig or two was left glimmering in the white debris beneath.
            One morning recently, when we were sitting by a similar fire planning a camping trip, we suddenly realized that we could no longer plan “twenty years from now” with any reasonable expectation.  I suppose it hit me first when I did the math and thought, if Keith makes it twenty more years he will have outlived all of his grandparents and his parents.  One of my grandmothers lived to 97, but then I realized that I take after my other grandmother more and that would give me only ten more years.
            I am not being morose.  After all, for a Christian, it means the reward is closer, but I think the day it hits you will suddenly change everything you say and do from then on.  It needs to hit you sooner rather than later—life is short, a breath, a wind, a shadow, the grass, the flowers—all of these things are mentioned in scores of places in the scriptures.
            We are just like that small morning fire.  Only half the size of a normal campfire and built on the half burnt remains of the night before, it was gone in moments.  But it still accomplished two things. 
            It provided some warmth in the early morning chill.  The thermometer next to the house said 37 that day, but Keith said the car thermometer, which was not next to a warm wall, registered between 29 and 33 as he drove to work.  In a nightgown, sweatshirt and denim jacket, I needed some warmth while I sat there.  So does the world.  It’s up to me to provide that warmth, which translates as comfort and compassion, to everyone I meet.  As Paul said in 2 Cor 1:3,4, Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.  God gives us spiritual life so we can give comfort to others, not just for our own joy.
            The morning was still dim that day, and the fire also provided me with the light to see around me.  God appeared as a pillar of cloud to lead the Israelites during the day.  What about travel after dark?  And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night. Exodus 13:21-22.  Isn’t it in the dark of trial, indecision, and despair that we need guidance most?  And when do our neighbors need our help the most?  God means for us to be a light, a city set on a hill, bright enough for all to see even at a distance.
            And then we gradually burn down and the light and the warmth disappear.  Or does it?  Don’t you still remember people who have helped you along the way?  Don’t you still recall their wise and comforting words and their kind deeds?  It only looks like the fire has died, for underneath those feathery white ashes lie smoldering coals that will still warm you and give you light.
            That’s what God expects of this small morning fire we call our lives, and the fire that keeps on giving will be the one that springs to life again on that bright and glorious morning to come.
 
So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom, Psa 90:12.
 
Dene Ward

Do you remember the book I reviewed over three years ago, The Problem of God--Answering a Skeptics Challenges to Christianity?  This is another book in that vein.  Ms. McLaughlin answers most of the same questions Mark Clark did in that book, plus a few more that seem endemic to our own peculiar culture, but in a deeper, more complete way.  She rattles off statistics that will shock you.  Like the fact that as of 2010 there were more than 68,000,000 Christians in China and that the number of Chinese Protestants has grown by 10% a year since 1979.  It is even possible that Christians in China will outnumber Christians in the United States within another decade or so.  Christianity is not a Western religion, nor has it ever been intended to be by God.  Around the world, the majority of Christians are, in fact, "women of color."  In this politically correct culture of ours, she warns that we need to be careful who it is we are really mocking when we mock Christianity. 
               She points out things that should be self-evident if we weren't so gullible in accepting the numbers and assertions skeptics readily spout.  For instance, science has not proved Christianity wrong.  In fact, it was Christian scientists who, when noticing the order God has placed in nature, first came up with the scientific method that all scientists now use.
               In practically every question she answers, she sets the questioner on his ear with answers that I have seldom, if ever, heard before.  In the process, she deepens your faith and corrects a few shallow understandings and platitudes.  When it comes to "Isn't Christianity Homophobic?" she truly sets the reader back a notch while carefully showing exactly what the Bible—and the Lord himself—teach.  (I won't spoil the surprise.)
               In every question, McLaughlin turns it upside down and inside out, leaving no stone unturned.  Every chapter covers its topic as completely as possible.  While being relatively easy to read, it is as scholarly as one could hope for in its reasoning, data, and citations.  You need to read this, and give it to your teenagers to read as well.  It will be an immense help to them as they try to make their way through an educational system, and a culture, that lies without blushing and does its best to make every believer into an object of ridicule.
               Confronting Christianity is published by Crossway.
 
Dene Ward

This week I will be taking a long weekend to share time with my family and, we hope, with others who need a place for a Thanksgiving meal.  (If you are in the area and find yourself alone, let us know!)  We have much to be thankful for, including a good report  last week that showed very little damage from the past eye surgery with all of its ups and downs.  Please join us in thanking our Father for His constant care and especially for the sacrifice of our Lord so we could some day live with them both for eternity. 
              And thank you for being faithful readers, even when what I have to say seems insignificant to your life, and hardly worth spending time on.  You keep giving me another chance and I appreciate it.  Please check in again next Monday and we will have another post for you and Happy Thanksgiving to you and all of yours.

Dene 

I don't know what we would have done without a garden when we were raising our boys.  Some of it went in the freezer—blueberries, strawberries, tomato sauce, corn, pole beans, white acre peas, blackeyes, and limas—but quite a bit filled the shelves of the back pantry in those clear sturdy Mason jars: two kinds of cucumber pickles, squash pickles, okra pickles, pickled banana peppers, pickled jalapenos, tomatoes, salsa, ketchup, tomato jam, strawberry jam, pepper jelly, pear preserves, muscadine juice, and muscadine jelly.
            The first time I ever canned I was scared to death.  First, the pressure canner scared me.  I had heard too many stories of blown up pots and collard greens hanging from the ceiling like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, but once I had used it a few times without incident, and really understood how it worked, that fear left me. 
            I may be an old hand at the pressure canner these days, but I still follow the rules.  If I don't, it will blow up.  No amount of sincerity on my part will keep that from happening if I let the pressure get too high. 
            I also follow the sterilization rules and the rules about how much pressure for how long and how much acidity is required for steam canning.  Botulism, a food poisoning caused by foods that have been improperly canned, is a particularly dangerous disease.  Symptoms include severe abdominal pain, vomiting, blurred vision, muscle weakness and eventual paralysis.  You’d better believe I carefully follow all the rules for home canning.  I give away a lot of my pickles and jams.  Not only do I not want botulism, I certainly don’t want to give it to anyone else either.
            Some folks chafe at rules.  Maybe that’s why they don’t follow God’s rules.  They want to take the Bible and pick and choose what suits them.  “Authority?” they scoff.  “Overrated and totally unnecessary.”  Authority does matter and a lot of people in the Bible found out the hard way.  Whatever you do in word or in deed, do all in the name of {by the authority of} the Lord Jesus…Col 3:17.  You might pay special attention to the context of that verse too.
            God’s people were warned over and over to follow His rules, to, in fact, be careful to follow His rules, Deut 5:1.  I counted 31 times in the Pentateuch alone.  Not following those rules resulted in death for many and captivity for others.  When Ezra and Nehemiah brought the remnant back to Jerusalem, once again they were warned, at least five times in those two short books.  Maybe suffering the consequences of doing otherwise made the need for so much repetition a little less.
            David had a way of looking at God’s rules that we need to consider.  For I have kept the ways of the Lord, and have not wickedly departed from my God.  For all his rules were before me, and from his statutes I did not turn aside, 2 Sam 22:22,23. Many of David’s psalms talk about God’s rules, but the 119th mentions them 17 times.  David calls those rules good, helpful, comforting, righteous, praiseworthy, enduring, hope-inducing, true, and life-giving.  How can anyone chafe at something so wonderful?
            People simply don’t want rules, especially with God.  God is supposed to be loving and kind and accept me as I am.  No.  God knows that the way we are will only bring death.  We must follow the rules in order to live.  We must love the rules every bit as much as David did.  I will praise you with an upright heart when I learn your righteous rules…My soul is consumed with longing for your rules at all times…When I think of your rules from of old, I take comfort, O Lord…Great is your mercy O Lord, give me life according to your rules, 119:7, 20, 52, 156.
            I get out my canning guide and faithfully follow the rules every summer.  I never just guess at it; I never say, “That’s close enough.”  I know if I don’t follow those rules someone could die, maybe me or one of my good friends or one of my precious children or grandchildren.  I bet there is something in your life with rules just as important that you follow faithfully.  Why then, are we so careless with the most important rules we have ever been given?
 
For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome, 1 John 5:3.
 
Dene Ward
 

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

Life is seldom fair-- the wicked prosper; justice is not done; sickness and death strike down the good.  Each of us can easily make a long list of things that have gone wrong in our lives and in the world.  Yet, all about me, I see the beauty and hear the echoes of God’s grace.
            Adam sinned.  We have also sinned and are accustomed to sin, and therefore do not understand exactly how horrific this sin was.  In a perfect world, a man who took a walk with God every evening chose his selfish desires over that fellowship with God.
            God is holy. We who, like Adam, have chosen momentary pleasures over holiness, can barely begin to understand His loathing toward evil and his disgust at sin.  In an hour or a day when we have been pure, our disgust with ourselves over the things we have done gives us a glimmer of a poor reflection of the absolute abhorrence that God feels toward sin.
            Jesus defined God’s hatred of sin, first by telling us of the punishment and then by his sacrifice.  Jesus revealed more about hell than all others combined.  Sin is so appalling that hell’s fire and darkness and worms and beatings and weeping are its just punishment, even the “little” sins you and I do.  Sin is so awful that only the agonizing death of the Son of God could bring about forgiveness.
            God cursed the ground as punishment for sin; He changed creation from the beginning when “it was very good.”  The wonder is that all creation is not thorns and deserts and ugly and foul smelling and nasty tasting, which would certainly be less punishment than sin deserves.  But all around me I see the grace of God – the beauty of flowers, the songs of birds, crickets & brooks, the stars in a clear sky, the sound of music, the wonderful taste of fresh fruit.  All around God has left hints of how beautiful heaven must be.  Yes, our roses have thorns, the winds that fly kites can destroy houses, the bees that make honey can sting. But all around, in the beauty and sweetness, I see the grace of God calling to a better life in hope of a better world where no sin exists and the curse of thorns and ugliness is banished.
            Having been granted such mercy as this, even in our sins, we can but exclaim, “Surely, if you miss heaven, you’ve missed it all.”
 
     And he showed me a river of water of life, bright as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the midst of the street thereof.  And on this side of the river and on that was the tree of life, bearing twelve manner of fruits, yielding its fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.  And there shall be no curse any more: and the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be therein: and his servants shall serve him and they shall see his face; and his name shall be on their foreheads.  And there shall be night no more; and they need no light of lamp, neither light of sun; for the Lord God shall give them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever.  Rev 22:1-5
 
Keith Ward                        
 

     I have been in waiting rooms a lot lately.  When you have a rare condition, you tend to be there more often and when your doctor treats only the difficult cases, the wait is longer—the corporation tends to schedule appointments much more closely than he can possibly keep up with in a timely manner—in this case, every 10 minutes.  So I regularly sit two to three hours before I even see the man, but when I finally do, he is friendly, good-natured, but serious about my problem and gives me all the attention he thinks I require, which has been up to an hour.  So he gets even more behind because of me.
     I was in that waiting room recently, along with about two dozen others.  It tends to get more and more crowded as the day wears on and the doctors lag more and more behind.  Across the room a young child, maybe 3, was obviously tired of waiting.  He was out of his chair, whining, and stamping around on his little red sneaker clad feet.  His father sat on one side and his mother on the other.  Each parent was busy with a phone.  In fact, the mother also had her laptop open.  All they did was hiss at him to be quiet and sit still and immediately return to their devices.  He was three years old!  He had been sitting fairly still for at least 20 minutes!  What did they expect?
     Parents!  Please put your phones away.  Do it right now just to prove that you can!  But more than that, put it down and pay attention to what is going on with your children.  I have no doubt you will have plenty of time to look at the thing sometime during the day, but being a parent to your children is the most important part of your day, not being a parent to your phone.  That is exactly how it looks sometimes—like the phone needs more care than the child.
     I am not unsympathetic.  My poor boys have sat with me for hours in waiting rooms because grandparents lived hundreds of miles away and we could not afford babysitters and food for them and eye medicine for me.  I did not expect them to sit absolutely still and quiet.  We took bags of Matchbox cars, books, and favorite stuffed animals.  Occasionally we all played together, but usually they did fine with each other.  I also had a couple of non-messy snacks for them, and bottles of water or juice.  When time became long, I told the receptionist I would be in the parking lot should they call me, and we went out to walk around and explore so they could get some fresh air and enough exercise to kill the antsy-ness.  The people in the office were always understanding and complimented them when finally we left.   Most of the time, all your children want is a little attention.  They want to know they matter to you. And then they can be happy by themselves a little while longer.
     I walk past mothers in the supermarket who are looking at their phones, or even talking on them.  A few times the child in the seat of the cart was about to stand up and reach for something and mom had no idea until I pointed.  Once, I was ready to make a mad dash to catch a falling child even if the mother was far closer than I was.  Put down your phone.  If it's someone who really matters, who is truly a friend, they will understand.  Talk to your children.  Listen to your children. 
      I have about had it with moms and their "me time."  When you decided to take on the privilege of raising a soul to God, you sacrificed a lot of things, including regular "me time."  Please don't resent it, don't resent the children who are causing it.  In a few very short years they will be gone, and what will they remember of their childhood and their parents?  Watching them look at their phone all the time?  Trying to ask a question only to be met with, "Shhhh," over and over?  Needing a hug and getting a glare instead?
     Think of it this way:  you are learning to be the servant God wants you to be.  Suddenly, you won't be spending an hour putting on make-up when you go out.  You will find that instead of shopping for yourself, you are spending the available income shopping for children who outgrow clothes faster than ice cream melts in a Florida summer.  By the time those precious souls have left you, you will have grown into exactly the kind of servant God wants you to be, still serving others, even looking for ways to serve others, because you have finally grown up spiritually and understand the secret of true happiness—serving others, not self and certainly  not a phone.
     That won't happen if you look at your phone longer and more often than you focus on your child.  Nothing on that contraption is more important than they are. 

And he said unto them, Set your heart unto all the words which I testify unto you this day, which ye shall command your children to observe to do, even all the words of this law. For it is no vain thing for you; because it is your life…(Deuteronomy 32:46-47).

Dene Ward

Florida has some strange weather.  As a teenager in Tampa I remember looking out the front door to sunshine and warm breezes, then out the backdoor to rain.  Honestly--raining in the backyard and sunshine in the front.  At our place now we can look up to the gate and see rain while the garden is still wilting in the sun. 
            I thought about that recently when Lucas told us how his little strip of land two blocks from the beach seemed to be a dividing point in weather systems as they passed through the panhandle from the west.  He could walk outside and look south to sunny blue skies, puffy cotton ball clouds and palm trees waving in the sea breeze.  Yet if he looked north, he saw billowing black clouds lit up by lightning that occasionally streaked its way to the ground.  Take your choice of weather:  look north or look south; go out the front door or go out the back.
            Which reminds me about the essential truth of happiness:  it’s a choice you make regardless of the conditions you find yourself in.  “I have learned in whatever state I am in to be content,” Paul says in Phil 4:11.  The disciples rejoiced that they were “counted worthy to suffer,” Acts 5:41.  If that doesn’t prove that happiness is a choice, what can?
            That doesn’t mean I can face every day with a smile—I haven’t gotten there yet.  But it does mean that when I am not in a good mood, I understand it’s up to me to change myself not my circumstances.  “I can do all things through him who strengthens me;” that old timeworn citation immediately follows Paul’s assertion that contentment is a learned behavior.  He understands that although happiness may be a choice, it isn’t always an easy one—it takes some help to manage when the outward man must face pain or illness or persecution or other suffering, whether physical or mental.  If it takes the help of Christ, it must be a difficult task.
            But it can be done, and while the doing may be difficult, the how isn’t.  All you have to do is face in the right direction, “looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith,” the Hebrew writer tells us in 12:2, and then goes on to tell us how our example did it:  looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising shame, and hath sat down at the right hand of the throne of God, Hebrews 12:2.  He looked ahead to the joy, not around him to the shame and pain, the hostility and the weariness. 
            What do they teach us in our Lamaze classes, ladies?  You focus on something besides the pain.  How many of you took a picture with you that they tacked on the wall?  Then you chose to look at it.  Even then you needed a little help—that’s what those men of yours were there for.  They helped you keep your focus and count your breaths.  You chose to listen to them and follow their instructions (when you weren’t grabbing them by the collar and telling them through gritted teeth not to ever touch you again!), but yes, it worked and you got through it, and you even wanted it again before much longer because you remembered the joy when that precious little bundle was placed in your arms, John 16:21.
            Do you want a happy marriage?  Do you want a good relationship with your family and your brothers and sisters in Christ?  Do you want to greet life every day with a smile instead of a sneer, laughter instead of tears?  The weather you can’t change, but you can change which door you leave by and which direction you look.
 
We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal,. 2 Corinthians 4:18.
 
Dene Ward

I’ve heard it all my life:  you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.  Imagine my surprise to find out you can catch quite a few flies with vinegar after all. 
            I read it in a cooking magazine.  Most gnats are fruitflies.  If you are having trouble with gnats in your kitchen, fill a small dish with vinegar, squeeze a drop of two of dishwashing liquid on it and set it out where you have the most gnats.  What interests a fruitfly is the vinegars formed in the rotten fruit, and that bowl of vinegar spells “rotten fruit” to their little sensory receptors.  Because of the surface tension on water, a fruitfly can land and not sink, but that drop of dishwashing liquid breaks the tension.  They land and sink, drowning immediately.
            I put one of these dishes out one day and an hour later found 18 little black specks lying on the bottom, never to buzz in my house again.  Now, every summer, I have two or three custard cups of apple cider vinegar lying around my house, and far fewer gnats than ever before.
            One of the cups sits on the window sill next to the chair that overlooks the bird feeder.  That bird feeder attracts more than its fair share of gnats in the summer too, and I have a suspicion that most of the gnats in the house sneak through the cracks around that window.  The screen is gone so I can see the birds better and the double window is up a foot so I have a place for my coffee cup on the sill.  That lack of triple protection means they can get in easier than anywhere else in the house except an open door.
            So the other afternoon I sat down to rest a bit after canning a bushel of tomatoes.  Keith was emptying the residual garbage pails of skins and seeds, and dumping the heavy pots of boiling water outside so the house wouldn’t heat up yet more from the steam.  I had just replaced the vinegar in the dish a few minutes before. 
            A gnat suddenly buzzed my face and I shooed it away.  He came back, but this time he headed straight for the window.  “Aha!” I thought.  If I just sat still I could see how it actually happened.  It was a real life lesson.
            He had gotten “wind” of the vinegar somehow and flew over to check it out at a prudent distance of eight or ten inches, which is several thousand times the body length of a gnat I imagine, and was certainly safe.  He flew away, but within a few seconds he was back.  This time he flew a little closer, maybe half the distance he had before.
            That happened several times with the gnat coming in closer and closer on each pass.  Finally, he landed on the window sill a couple of inches from the custard cup.  I could just imagine him sitting there tensed up and waiting for something to happen, then finally relaxing as he discovered that whatever danger he had imagined wasn’t there. 
            He flew again, but not away.  This time he hovered over the cup, doing figure eights two or three inches above the surface of the vinegar.  Then he landed on the lip of the custard cup.  At that point I imagine the fumes from the fresh vinegar were nearly intoxicating.  All that rotten fruit right down there for the taking, and besides, he had never had trouble before landing on a piece of bruised, decaying fruit, and this one was obviously an apple, one of the best.
            So he flew yet again, circling closer and closer to the surface.  “Now,” he must have thought as he landed on what he was sure was a solid chunk of overripe Macintosh, or Jonathan, or Red Rome, and promptly sank into the vinegar.  He didn’t even wiggle—it was over that fast, his drowning in what he thought was safe, in a place where nothing bad had ever happened to him before. 
            It works this way for humans too, you know.  What are you hovering over today?
 
Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, When it sparkles in the cup, When it goes down smoothly: At the last it bites like a serpent, And stings like an adder. Proverbs 23:31-32.
Thorns and snares are in the way of the perverse: He who keeps his soul shall be far from them, Proverbs 22:5.
 
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.  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 not get over it—that may never happen—but to get past it, to no longer be paralyzed by grief but ready to serve.  Some afflictions are more difficult than others.  Some trials need a longer recovery period, but mature Christians eventually grow beyond 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