Out here in the country, just about every man has a pickup truck.  Most of them are several years old, caked in mud, a little rusty, and dented here and there.  That’s because those trucks are used. 

              We have one too.  It’s twenty years old, usually wears a coat of dust, and sports a bed with scrapes, dings, and lines of orange rust.  It has hauled wood for our heat and leaves and pine straw for mulch.  It has carried loads of dirt to landscape the natural rises and dips of our property.  It has toted lawn mowers and tillers to the shop for repair.  It has gone on several dozen camping trips, filled to the brim of its topper with tents, sleeping bags, coolers, suitcases, firewood, and food.

              Whenever we go to town, it always amuses me to see a man in a tie get out of a pickup truck, especially if that truck is clean, polished, and less than two years old.  I asked such a man once why he needed his pickup.  “To drive,” he said.  What?  Isn’t that what far more economical cars are for?  He actually took better care of his truck than his car, polishing it to a high enough sheen to blind the driver in the next lane, and vacuuming it almost daily.  Obviously, his pickup was for show.  “A man ought to have a truck after all.”  Why?  Because it makes him a man?

              Before you shake your head, consider that this happens with many more things than pickup trucks.  Why do you have the type of car you do?  Not a car, but that particular one.  I know some people who think the brand is the important part, that somehow it says something special about them.  Why do you live where you do in the type of house that you have?  Is it a big house because you have a big family, because you use it to house brethren passing through who need help, because you show hospitality on a regular basis?  Or is it because someone of your status ought to have a house that size in that neighborhood?

              I suppose the saddest thing I have seen is women who have children because “that’s what women do.”  Their careers or busy schedules or social standing is far more important than the child, who is raised by someone else entirely, with mommy making “quality time” whenever she can spare a moment or two.

              The Israelites of the Old Testament had similar problems.  They wanted a king “like the countries round about them.”  Somehow they thought it made them a legitimate nation.  Do we do similar things in the church?

              Why do we have a preacher?  I have heard people say we need one to look valid to the denominations around us.  Why do we have a building?  “Because that would make us a real church.”  Neither of those things is wrong to have, but our attitudes show us to be less than spiritual, not to mention less than knowledgeable, when we say such things. 

              Why do you have elders?  “Because a church this size ought to.”  That may very well be, but you don’t fix the problem of a church that hasn’t grown enough spiritually to have qualified men by choosing men who are anything but just so you can say you have elders.

              A lot of us are just silly boys who think that having a pickup truck makes them real men.  Let’s get to the root of the problem.  What makes you a Christian, what makes a church faithful, is a whole lot like what makes you a man, and outward tokens have nothing to do with it.
 
"As for you, son of man, your people who talk together about you by the walls and at the doors of the houses, say to one another, each to his brother, 'Come, and hear what the word is that comes from the LORD.' And they come to you as people come, and they sit before you as my people, and they hear what you say but they will not do it; for with lustful talk in their mouths they act; their heart is set on their gain. And behold, you are to them like one who sings lustful songs with a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument, for they hear what you say, but they will not do it. When this comes--and come it will!--then they will know that a prophet has been among them." Ezekiel 33:30-33
 
Dene Ward

We first met Ermon Owens and his family over 30 years ago, when our boys were still in grade school.  His family became some of our dearest friends.  They ate at our table many times and our children played together and grew up together.  Keith and Ermon cut wood together.  They raised pigs together.  They sat together and talked Bible for hours.  In fact, you couldn't sit with Ermon for long without talking about spiritual things.

              At one of those dinner visits, Keith talked to him about becoming an elder.  True to his humble nature he seemed a bit aghast.  "Me?" he asked and was instantly assured that not only was he qualified, he had a talent for watching over people.  With just a little more persuasion from others, he finally accepted that heavy responsibility and flourished at it.

              Ermon had a way about him.  He made it his business to find out about people and their problems.  He knew who needed a kind word or a pat on the back, and he gave them freely, searching out needy souls as he wended his way through the crowd on Sunday mornings, or as he made visits during the week.  Yet he could answer a fool according to his folly with a few words that left that man speechless and ashamed—but seldom angry.  Ermon knew that waiting "for a better time" could be the advice of the devil because you never know what opportunity could be your last to try to save an erring brother or sister.  Last week Ermon taught us that lesson himself with his sudden, tragic passing

              Maybe it was that broad smiling face or the twinkle in his eye, but Ermon had a special way with children.  Many of us found out after his death that he had been a tutor and mentor to elementary school students.  We shouldn't have been surprised.  In our family alone he showed up at recitals, school musicals, ball games, and graduations.  He bought my Lucas some cleats when he was on the high school baseball team.  We hadn't even known he needed them, assuming the school provided such things, but not so in the smallest county in Florida.  He often sat in my classes to watch me teach the children, an elder watching over the new lambs in the flock to make sure they were being fed properly.  That was Ermon.  Always on duty, always watching out for others.

              Ermon was one of the finest men I have ever known.  He was the big brother I never had, even if I did have a couple of years on him.  When we lost Ermon, we lost much more than a simple man—we lost a hero.

              Ermon's children played with mine, went to Bible class with mine, and they often spent time in one another's company outside of church time, though they lived in different counties a good twenty miles apart.  Ermon's son Leron stood up with my Nathan when he married and because of the closeness we had shared for so long, we had Ermon and Brenda seated in the family section that night.  It seemed fitting.

              One evening, a dozen or more years before that, the Owens had come over for yet another dinner.  When it was time for them to leave, our boys were not ready to say good-bye to their young friends.  "Can't they spend the night?" Lucas implored. 

              "But they have school tomorrow," Ermon reminded him.  At this point I need to tell you, if you don't already know, that Ermon and Brenda are African-Americans.

              "They can come to school with us," Lucas immediately replied.  "We'll tell them they are our cousins," and then stood there waiting for his "obvious" solution to be accepted.

              Ermon's eyes widened.  "I don't think they would believe you," he finally managed.

              "But why?"  Lucas asked in all innocence. 

              None of us answered, and finally Lucas, who was about 12 at the time, figured it out.  "Oh," he said, shoulders drooping in disappointment.

              At that point Keith spoke up.  "Well Ermon, we are brothers aren't we?  And that makes our kids cousins, I think."

              Ermon cocked his head as he considered the thought.  "I guess so," he finally allowed with a smile and a chuckle, "but they still can't stay, Lucas.  Maybe another night."

              And there were many more nights. 

           Ermon came to lunch about a month before his passing.  It was the usual—talk about spiritual things for a good two hours.  When he left, he said, "This has been good," and he wasn't talking about the food.   Yes it had been good, and one day we will get together again, but if I had known the hug I gave him that day would be the last, I would have never let go.

             One of Ermon's favorite things to say was, "I know where I'm going, and I'm ready to go.  Are you?"  I promise you, he's saving you a seat in his Father's house, waiting with that beautiful smile and that precious twinkle in his eye.
 
For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me! (Job 19:25-27)
 
Dene Ward

New Mexico State University had scheduled its first graduation ceremony ever for March 10, 1893.  That morning the ceremony was canceled.  The university’s first graduate, the only one scheduled to graduate that year, Sam Steele, was robbed and killed the night before.  No one graduated, so no one came.  Reading that brought back a flood of memories.  

             Many years ago we were on vacation and had carefully looked up a local congregation so we could attend a mid-week Bible study with our brothers and sisters in that town.  We left our camp site in plenty of time.  We arrived to an empty parking lot at 7:15 pm on a Wednesday evening.  The sign in the yard said, “Wednesday Bible Study, 7:30 PM.”  We waited until 8:00, then finally gave up and went back to the campground—no one ever came.

              Another time, another place, we walked into the building at 6:45.  We knew someone would be there this time—there were cars in the lot already.  Yes, they were there, and the Bible class was winding down, even though the sign outside said, “Tuesday evening Bible study, 7:00 PM.”  At 7 on the dot the final amen was said.  “We meet at 6 in the summer,” we were told.  We sure wished the sign had said so.

              Yet another time, and another place, we arrived on Sunday morning at 9:15 AM.  The sign outside said, “Bible classes, 9:30 AM,” but there wasn’t another car in sight.  Finally about 9:28 one car drove up and parked.  The family took their time getting out and walking inside.  We followed, and watched as the man, who was the teacher that morning, began setting up.  At 9:35 another family arrived and sat with us.  At 9:40 two more walked in.  At 9:45 another man walked through the auditorium, waving and calling out to the teacher in front of us, who had not yet started his class.  A couple of minutes later we started, and what was billed as a 45 minute study became 25 minutes, less another five or so for opening remarks and prayer.  A twenty minute Bible study.  Obviously, they didn’t get too far in their Bibles, and we wondered why we had gone to so much trouble to be there on time.

              I cannot help but wonder how many other visitors give up and leave places like this.  Do we think we have no obligation at all to them?  Paul talks about the effect our assemblies have on the unbelievers who have come in 1 Cor 14:23-25.  He obviously expected visitors.  It isn’t some sort of OCD to want things done “decently and in order.”  When I invite someone, I expect there to be someone besides me to greet them and interact with them.  So does God.

              We can piously, and a little self-righteously, tsk-tsk the ones who want things to end on time.  Don’t be so quick to judge bad motives for that.  Do you know the first question anyone I have ever invited asks?  “What time will it be over?”  They aren’t Christians yet.  They have a life to live, and probably other commitments that day.  If I can’t tell them they will be out of there by a certain time, they might not come at all.  Especially in our culture, time and schedule are normal considerations if you want to make your services visitor-friendly.  Eventually they will reach the point that time doesn’t matter to them—but not if we never make it possible for them to attend in the first place with inconsistent scheduling and a supercilious refusal to consider their needs.

              I could go on.  What about leaving them easy, un-embarrassing places to sit, especially if they arrive a little late?  What about parking places?

              Paul says that our consideration for outsiders will convict their hearts and prove that God is really among us.  What do we prove when our selfish or lackadaisical attitudes keep anyone from even coming in the first place?
 
By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. John 15:8
 
Dene Ward

Things change so rapidly these days it seems impossible to keep up.  I had carefully collected a library of classical music LPs for my students to listen to.  By the time my studio was large enough, with students advanced enough to get much use out of them, I was collecting cassettes.  Before long I had to switch to CDs.  At least I don’t have a collection of 8 tracks collecting dust as well.  Somehow I missed that phase.
              The same thing is happening in the church, and I don’t mean changing doctrine to suit the situation, I mean changing the means by which we teach that unchangeable Word, and the ways we edify one another while still clinging to the constraints of obedient faith.
              Gone are the charts drawn on white bed sheets and the overhead projectors flashing carefully covered up lists, revealed one line at a time when the speaker moves the sheet of paper he laid on top.  Now we use power point and remotes.  Even at the age of three my grandson Silas knew to pick up something rectangular and point it at his make-believe screen when he pretended to preach like Daddy.
              We must beg people to use the carefully selected library of books we have in the back hall—they are happier with the internet and Bible study programs, not to mention Kindle and Nook.  Even the riffling of Bibles during the sermon has decreased—many now have all 66 books on something the size of a wallet.  You are more likely to hear beeps or electronic “plops” than the quiet shuffling of pages.
              Now the preacher doesn’t just have to raise his voice when an infant begins to cry; he has to raise it when someone forgets to turn off his cell phone.  Now the song leader must wrestle with an audience who not only wants to sing at their own pace regardless of his direction, but with the ones who cannot for the life of them understand or “feel” syncopation.  Fanny Crosby would never have set words to a syncopated tune.
              But some things will always be the same.
              Children whose parents tell them to “Listen!” will still come up with ways to keep their wandering minds on the sermons, counting how many times the preacher says certain words or writing down every passage he uses, and in that play will begin to memorize scriptures that stay with them for a lifetime.
              Someone will still sniffle a bit during the Lord’s Supper, and someone else will momentarily hold up the collection while he tries to persuade his two year old to put the coins in the plate, and the children will learn what is done and why.
              A deacon will stand in back and count while another one makes last minute notes for the closing announcements, those precious words that help us “weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice.”
              Serious men, in khakis and open neck shirts instead of suits and ties, will still listen carefully to the preacher while their wives juggle their own listening with trying to decide if a requested potty trip is really necessary or just a ploy to get out of this boring seat for a few minutes.
              People will still ask for prayers when life deals them a harsh blow, and brothers and sisters will gather round with hugs and tears, and offers of help.
              Excited new converts will still sit closer to the front than old ones, listening with rapt attention, diligently taking notes to study at home, and thinking up questions that will keep the elders busy for weeks.
              Young parents will be suddenly motivated to attend regularly for the first time in their lives by the responsibility of the small souls God has placed in their hands.
              Widows will contentedly sit, patiently waiting for the time when they can meet their mates “at the gate,” as my mother asked my daddy to do just moments before his passing.
              Older couples will do as I do, looking around at all the new but still seeing the old in spite of the new, comforting themselves that God’s way still works, even in this perplexing age of technology and unparalleled advancement.
              As long as there are people to hear it and hearts to believe it, planting the seed will make Christians spring up out of any plot of good soil.  It has worked for nearly two thousand years now and we, in spite of the wow-factor of our inventions, will never outdo the results God can get with one Book.  If you ever forget that, then look around some Sunday morning, not for the differences, but for the things that never change, and that never will as long as faith exists on the earth.
 
"O my God," I say, "take me not away in the midst of my days-- you whose years endure throughout all generations!" Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you will remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but you are the same, and your years have no end. The children of your servants shall dwell secure; their offspring shall be established before you. Psalms 102:24-28
 
Dene Ward

I have heard it two ways, seen it written three ways, but in every case it was ascribed to Mark Twain as, if not the actual person involved, the one who relayed the story.  A neighbor came asking to borrow an axe.  Twain—or an acquaintance of his—said he couldn't loan it because he was having soup for supper (or needed a shave).  When asked what that had to do with an axe the reply came back, "Nothing.  But any excuse will do when you don't want to do something."

              Having recently had to deal with a person who always has an excuse for not doing something she had an obligation to do, this little story really hit home.  I have just about stopped asking or suggesting anything of this person now.  It's obvious she is having soup for supper, or perhaps needs a shave.  Why should I allow myself to become frustrated over someone who just doesn't care? 

            Jesus made the same point with his parable about the great feast (Luke 14:15-24), and in a similar parable about the wedding feast (Matt 22:1-10).  All those he had invited had an excuse, and all about as silly as needing an axe to eat soup with.  So the host took back his invitation and offered it to those who would take him up on it, those who obviously felt it was worth the trouble and disruption of their evening schedule.  They would certainly receive far more in return.
 
             We usually apply this to the salvation Jesus is offering, which is a valid and perhaps even primary application.  But let me offer you a few more.

              Has anyone ever asked you to go visiting with them?  Maybe the person is new to the congregation, maybe he is simply new to recognizing his obligations as a brother in the Lord.  Having you along would help with his nervousness, aid him in keeping a conversation going, and it would also create a new bond between you.  Did you manage to find an excuse not to go?

              Has anyone ever offered to study with you, perhaps an older brother well-versed in the Scripture who is anxious now to pass on what he has learned in all his hard work through the years, especially the process of learning on one's own?  How many excuses did you come up with before he gave up on you?

              Has a sister invited you to the Ladies' Bible Class, assuring you it is a learning opportunity, not a gabfest?  How many things did you find that absolutely had to be done during that one hour of the week rather than any other?

              Has your family been invited into the home of another, not only as simple hospitality, but also as a way to develop a closer relationship?  Did your always busy schedule make it impossible to "pencil them in?"

              See what I mean?  We are oh so good with the excuses.  And let me tell you, the more of them you make, the more obvious it is why you are making them.  If for some reason you simply cannot do something, just say so.  If you just don't want to, say so.  Are you worried about hurting feelings?  Trust me, people are not as naïve as you seem to believe.  They know what's going on.  I have far more respect for honesty than excuse after excuse after excuse. 

              If I can see through them, so can God.  It isn't even a super-power, people.  And just like I have given up on that one I have had to listen to, God will give up on excuse-makers too.  Just what do we think that parable was all about anyway?
 
Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding feast is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore to the main roads and invite to the wedding feast as many as you find.’ (Matt 22:8-9)
 
Dene Ward

But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing. (Jas 1:22-25)

              How many times has the above passage been used in sermons and articles?  I think I have even used it myself, at least once if not more on this blog.  We must constantly look at ourselves in the mirror of God's word and then we will see all of our faults and be able to fix them, right?  I recently had an experience that made me stop and rethink all of that.

              We had the privilege of keeping our grandsons for a while, and had taken them to their favorite eating joint.  Silas sat across from me in the booth and we were discussing school or piano or something of the sort.  He leaned down to get a sip of his soda then looked right at me and said, "Grandma?"

              "Yes?" I encouraged.

            "You have two different eyes, don't you?  One big eye and one little eye."
 
             It took a minute for me to realize what he meant.  So then I explained that I had very sick eyes (which is exactly what one doctor called them), and that the "little eye" had needed so many surgeries that I couldn't hold it open as well as I could the other one.  He was perfectly satisfied with the explanation and we went on to talk about other things.

              That night I looked in the mirror, wondering where was this "little eye" that he saw.  I had never noticed that much difference.  That's when I realized that every time I looked in the mirror I only looked at the other eye.  It has had surgeries too, and it is also "sick," but it has not been medically abused as much as the other.  When I made myself look at both eyes I was actually startled.  Since I always focus on the other eye, I had never really noticed exactly how different the two eyes look.

              Don't you suppose the same thing can happen when we look in the mirror James spoke about?    Simply looking in the mirror is not enough when we only look at the good we do and refuse to look at the very sick parts of our souls, the parts that really need spiritual medicine.

              So here is today's challenge:  don't just look at the big eye; focus on the little one, the one you really need to see.  I can't fix my "little eye," but you can fix yours right up, if you are brave enough to really look at it and honest enough to change.
 
How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother's eye. (Luke 6:42)
 
Dene Ward

On March 4, 1865, Alexander Gardner photographed Abraham Lincoln at his second inaugural.  “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right,” Lincoln said that day, “let us strive on to finish the work we are in—to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for his widow and his orphans; to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations.”

             There in the photo behind him stands his betrayer, John Wilkes Booth, the man who would shoot him in the head at Ford’s Theater just over a month later on April 14, right after the intermission ended and the play, “Our American Cousin” began again.  It seems ominous that Booth would have been in that picture--some speculate the he had intended to do the deed that very day--but by definition, betrayers are always somewhere close to the ones they will betray, looking for an opportunity.

              If there had been a camera invented that Passover night 2000 years ago, don’t you think you would see Judas there, dipping his bread with Jesus, perhaps sharing a smile or warm word with a fellow apostle?  I am not certain when Booth made his plans to murder his leader, but Judas that night already had his plans made.  In fact, Jesus sent him off to carry them out.

              Usually we don’t have cameras going on Sunday mornings, but if we did, I wonder how many betrayers would be caught communing with their fellow disciples and their Lord?  Do you take the Lord’s Supper planning to go out and continue in sin the next week?  Do you already have it on your calendar?  Will you leave His presence and refuse to confess your faith in Him before your friends and acquaintances?  Will you sigh and give in just because the fight is long and hard and you don’t like what it will cost you to win?  Do you simply approach the week with absolutely no plans of how to thwart the enemy and his lures, stumbling like a fool straight into his hands?

              How many of us take the bread that represents “the body” God “prepared” for Him to live in an ignominious life (Heb 10:5), then refuse to present our own bodies in a living sacrifice every day?  How many of us take the juice that represents the horrible death He died, then refuse to crucify ourselves so He can live in us?  How many of us sit with Him weekly in this family meal, then go out and act like someone else’s brothers instead of His?

              If God took a picture of us all on Sunday mornings, which ones of us would be called the Betrayers?
 
A man who has set at nought Moses’ law dies without compassion on the word of two or three witnesses: of how much sorer punishment, do you think, shall he be judged worthy, who has trodden under foot the Son of God, and has counted the blood of the covenant wherewith he was sanctified an unholy thing, and has done despite unto the Spirit of grace? For we know him that said, Vengeance belongs unto me, I will recompense. And again, The Lord shall judge his people. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Hebrews 10:28-31
 
Dene Ward

Marion Morrison was born on May 26, 1907.  While a student at the University of Southern California, he did odd jobs on a movie lot.  A film producer saw him and became friendly with him, finally offering him the lead in a western called "The Big Trail" in 1930.  The movie was a flop, but the young man managed to support his family for the next nine years with Grade C westerns, 52 of them, in fact.  Then in 1939, that same producer gave him the role of the Ringo Kid in another western called "Stagecoach."  That movie, which premiered on March 2, 1939, was a hit, and the movie star John Wayne became an "overnight" success.  He and his producer friend, John Ford, created the quintessential American—strong, quiet, and independent.

               We are proud to be known for “the American Spirit of Independence.”  That independent spirit is what made those original settlers leave everything behind and cross the ocean for a new start.  It’s what made them rebel against England and start their own country.  It’s what made them push westward across the whole continent. It helped capitalism defeat communism and made our armed forces invincible.  It’s how we got to the moon before the Soviets.  It’s the reason John Wayne is still an icon in American cinema—he played that independent American at least one hundred times and made us love it.

              That spirit is also the reason we have a difficult time turning our lives over to God.  It’s the reason our faith suffers when we can’t fix things ourselves.  It’s the reason we despair when times are difficult, instead of exulting in the grace of God.  But He said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that power of Christ may rest upon me, 2 Cor 12:9.  Weakness?  We want nothing to do with it!

              We must overcome the American spirit of independence if we ever hope to endure the trials of life.  Everything we have, everything we boast about, can be lost in an instant.  When that is all we have to live for and all we count on to make us feel worthwhile in this life, we really aren’t worth very much at all.  Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal.  But lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroy, where thieves do not break in and steal, Matt 6:19-20.  People who count on only themselves are the ones who jumped off bridges during the Great Depression.  They relied on their own strength, ingenuity, and accomplishments, but something came along and showed them how frail those things really were.

              We must overcome the American spirit of independence if we ever hope to achieve eternal life.  We cannot save ourselves.  There is nothing we can do that will ever make us worthy of salvation.  We must give it all, and still we are not worthy.  We must recognize our own helplessness and surrender it all to the only one who can possibly save us.  We surrender our will to his law.  We surrender our lives to his plan.  We surrender our “American spirit of independence” and, instead, trust and rely only on Him.  Relinquishing that control is more than some people can bear.

              Perhaps the trick is to turn that spirit of independence into another source of strength.  Am I strong enough to hand over the reins and trust someone else with my life and my soul?  Am I strong enough to risk it all for the greatest pay-off there could be?  Or am I weakling who can do nothing unless I can see the end right in front of my eyes? 

              If I cannot do that, I am really not very strong at all.  And I have lost one of the greatest sources of strength there is:  hope.  For in hope were we saved; but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for that which he sees? But if we hope for that which we see not, then we with patience wait for it, Rom 8:24,25.

              God expects His children to depend on Him and only Him.  He expects their absolute trust in his good will toward them, and their willingness to accept His decisions, even when they don’t understand them.  Our “spirit of independence” may have made us a strong country, but if we do not learn to overcome that cultural mindset and control it, we will never be anything but the weakest of Christians.
 
I will declare your righteousness and your deeds, but they will not profit you.  When you cry out, let your collection of idols [the things you rely on] deliver you!  The wind will carry them off, a breath will take them away.  But he who takes refuge in me shall possess the land, and shall inherit my holy mountain, Isa 57:12,13.
 
Dene Ward
 

What if I said to you, “He is as slow as a turtle,” and then a few minutes later added, “He’s moving at a snail’s pace.”  What would you say?  I’ll tell you what you would not say.

              You would not say, “Oh, he must have hard skin,” or, “He must be slimy.”  You would not look at me in exasperation and say, “Well which one is he?!  A snail or a turtle?”  Why is it then, that we do that to the Bible when the Holy Spirit uses figurative language? 

              Usually there is only one point to a figure, whether it is as small as a metaphor or as complex as a parable.  God can call the church a family, an army, a vineyard, a kingdom, and a bride.  There is a point of emphasis for each figure.  Most of us get that one, but then do crazy things with the parables, finding and binding points where there are none, or tying ourselves into knots trying to explain why both Jesus and the apostles’ teaching are called “the foundation.”  Bible study wouldn’t be nearly as difficult if we used the same common sense with it that we do with everyday language.  That’s why the Holy Spirit used common language—so we could understand

              Eph 6:16 says faith is a shield.  1 Thes 5:8 says faith is a breastplate.  Couldn’t Paul get it right?  Yes he could, and yes he did.  Faith is either one depending upon the point you are trying to make.

              The word for shield is used only that one time in the New Testament that I could find.  In its etymology, it originally referred to the stone that covered the door of a cave.  That immediately brings to mind the stones that covered both Jesus’ and Lazarus’s tomb-caves.  The door had to be heavy so a scavenging animal could not dislodge it.  It had to completely cover the opening so that after four days, as Martha reminded Jesus, the smell wouldn’t get out.

              The word was later used for a specific type of shield—a large rectangular shield that would completely cover the soldier just like that rock covered the cave door.  What did Paul say about the purpose of that shield?  “To quench all the fiery darts of the evil one.”  Did you get that?  It covers so well and is so heavy that none of those darts can get past it.  So whose fault is it when they do?  It’s ours because we stuck something out where it didn’t belong, or completely dropped the shield. 

              Now what about that breastplate in 1 Thes 5:8?  That word is thorax which is now our English word for “chest.”  No, it doesn’t cover the whole soldier like the shield, but it does cover all his vital organs, and it does another thing as well.  A thorax was a piece of armor with two parts, covering both the front and the back.  Faith is like that.  It will help you with the attacks you see coming—and sometimes you can see your problems rushing in head-on—but it will also protect you from surprise attacks from the rear.  Sometimes life deals you an unexpected blow—“didn’t see that one coming,” we often say--but your faith can protect you from even those sorts of things. 

              So is faith a shield or a breastplate?  Faith is both, depending upon the point you are trying to make.  The thing the two metaphors have in common is protection.  God has given us what we need to stay safe.  Don’t get so busy trying to explain things that shouldn’t need explaining that you forget to use it.
 
Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Ephesians 6:11-13
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

It seems that some fail to grasp figurative language and some apparently are unaware that it exists, though they use it every day. Many have correctly condemned the attitude behind having "Born to Lose" as a motto for life. But, in the song the phrase is wrested from, it means something else entirely. There might even be a lesson there about Bible study.  If you never heard the song, which was old when Ray Charles sang it, the quotes below are from that song.
 
A favorite preacher often says, “If you have missed heaven, you have surely missed it all.  It would matter nothing if you were successful on every other level and happy every day of your life."

Is there nothing in your life that had you missed it, then your whole life would seem a loss?  “Born to Lose” expresses that idea.  Had I missed Dene, “every dream would bring me only pain,” and I would feel that, “I’ve lived my life in vain,” and, “All my life I’ve always been so blue.”  It would color my life so that no success, no joy would truly be happy or good.

“Breathes there man with soul so dead” (or woman) who has no one that means that much?  Have you told her lately?  [Scott, "My Native Land"]

If everyone who knows you does not know that about you, is it true?
 
With the idea in mind that “Born to Lose” refers to an event that so alters one’s perspective in life in a negative way that it seems that he was born that way, let us examine a couple of Bible phrases.
 
“Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.” Psa 51:5 (ASV)
“Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me. “ (ESV) 
 
At a moment when you perceived the depth of the wickedness that you have done, maybe a recent one or in a wakeful moment in the night reviewing your life, have you never felt that way?  In other words, “My whole life has been sin to the bone?”  It seems to me that such passages as these have nothing to say about the state of one at birth or conception. They express in a strong way, a poetic way, the depth of awareness of one’s own sinfulness that he has done.
 
"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations."  Jer 1:5
 
Having seen this on a number of billboards along the interstates expressing opposition to abortion, and with my thinking supercharged by the adrenaline of dodging all the idiots for whom the hope of arriving a few minutes less late is worth the risk of their lives and ours, I realize that as used, literally, it expresses the Mormon view that souls exist prior to conception.  Instead, when the passage is seen figuratively, God is expressing the depth to which he knows Jeremiah’s character and the confidence with which he appoints him to the prophetic office.  It is not intended to express any truth regarding birth.
 
And, so with these and numerous other instances, we realize that God communicates with us the way we do with others, by figures of speech. And yes, the Bible means exactly what it says, it just does not always mean the literal dictionary meaning of the words used.  When we say a man would "give the shirt off his back," we are not even talking about shirts!  Nor was Jesus talking about eye problems when he said to remove the beam from your own eye so you can see to take the mote from your brother's.
 
Many a false doctrine and unsound interpretation is based upon the foolishness of making God's figures of speech into literally exact dictums.
 
We need to lighten up.  Because it is "THE BIBLE" does not mean that we do not use normal means to understand it. That is the way God communicates.
 
But we received, not the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is from God; that we might know the things that were freely given to us of God. Which things also we speak, not in words which man's wisdom teaches, but which the Spirit teaches; combining spiritual things with spiritual words. (1Cor 2:12-13)
 
Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. (Eph 5:17)
 
Keith Ward