Most are familiar with the life of King Hezekiah, the last good king of Judah.  When he was thirty-nine, he became ill “unto death,” the prophet Isaiah told him.  Yet because of his good life and his fervent prayer to God, he was granted a fifteen year reprieve (2 Chron 32).

            Hezekiah was grateful.  He wrote a psalm of thanksgiving, ending with, For Sheol does not thank you; death does not praise you; those who go down to the pit do not hope for your faithfulness. The living, the living, he thanks you, as I do this day; the father makes known to the children your faithfulness, Isa 38:18,19.

            I wonder how he felt on his fiftieth birthday, twelve years later.  I wonder what was running through his mind in year fourteen, and as the fifteenth year dawned, was he still grateful for the extra time God had allowed him, or was he bitter, knowing the end was in sight?  If it were the same illness returning, he had to know this was it, even if he was only 54 years old.  Did he ruin the time he had left by railing about how badly God had treated him, completely forgetting the gift of fifteen extra years?  How would you have acted?

            2 Chronicles gives us a lot of information about how he used those fifteen years, some of it not too wisely, in fact.  Yet he seems to have finally reverted to his former self—a man who worshipped God and did what was right in leading God’s people.  We don’t know, though, how he met his death, whether with a smile of gratitude or a groan of bitterness.  I would like to think the former.

            Has God given you a reprieve?  Sometimes he gives it just as he did Hezekiah, a few more years to live following a major illness or accident, even when the doctors thought it was over.  Sometimes the reprieve is about an increasing disability, yet we still function far longer than anyone ever expected. 

            Sometimes it’s a second chance with our finances—an opportunity to show good stewardship with what the Lord has given us instead of once again running ourselves into the ground with a lack of character and self-control. 

            Maybe he has given you an opportunity to repair a relationship and enjoy years of fellowship with an old friend or family member.  Perhaps, most important of all, he has given you the chance to mend your relationship with Him, to come back from a dalliance with the world and serve him as you ought.

            God gives reprieves every day.  Some are obvious, others not so much.  Look at your life today and instead of seeing a bitter end, see if you can find a second chance you might have missed.  Be grateful for the opportunity instead of resenting the new limits you must live with, and the knowledge that the end might be near. 

            Hezekiah knew exactly how long his reprieve would last.  We don’t.  Today might be the last occasion you have to tell a friend you’re sorry, the last opportunity to make amends for a wrong done long ago.  It might be the last time you get to tell someone you love him.  It might be your final chance to return to God. 

            In all things live like your reprieve is over, for it may very well be.
 
Therefore the LORD waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the LORD is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him, Isa 30:18.

Dene Ward

For their seventh and fourth birthdays, which we celebrated together, we gave our grandsons scooters.  They were small scooters, starter scooters, I called them, about like a skateboard with a handle.  But they were thrilled.  If ever we got a gift right, we seem to have that time.  Before long they were zooming around like little speed demons.

              Of course, four year old Judah was not quite up to his older brother’s antics.  He tried his best to follow him in the same places, at the same speed, and usually wound up losing it on a curve.  Finally he stopped, turned down his little lip and said, “I can’t do it good.”

              Of course he could; he was doing just fine for his age.  He just couldn’t do what his big brother could.  While there isn’t much difference between forty-four and forty-seven, there is a lot of difference between four and seven.

              And too often that’s what we do.  We judge ourselves against people who are older, wiser, and more experienced.  I see this woman handling a life threatening illness like cancer and I can’t even handle the flu without getting grumpy and complaining.  One man sees another teach an outstanding class on Zechariah and he can’t even give a decent five-minute Wednesday night talk.  And both become so depressed they stop doing what they can do.

             And if we aren’t careful, instead of gradually growing and learning how, we give up too.  Or we blame it on God for our lack of talent, or on our parents for not making us do our lessons as children, or for not taking us to church, or on the church for not using us as we “ought to be used,” regardless of what we can and cannot do.  Any of those is our handy alibi for sitting down and doing nothing.

             The day that Judah complained was a Sunday.  “Guess what?” I asked him. 

             His big blue eyes turned up to me as he said, “What?”

            “Tomorrow is Monday and Silas will be at school.  That means you can practice your scooter all day if you want to and before long, you will be as good as he is.  And by his age, maybe even better!”

            He gave me a lop-sided grin like he wasn’t sure about that.  “Really?” he asked.

            “Really!”  I said.  And he hasn’t given up.  He knows he needs to work at it, but he also knows that he will get better.  He already has.

            And that’s what we need to remember.  Plus this: God doesn’t compare us to brother or sister Whozit.  He knows what we can and cannot do.  He is the one who decides what we are capable of—not us!  And if we keep on trying, we will “do it good,” good enough to please a gracious Father.
 
So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander. Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation— if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. (1Pet 2:1-3)

Dene Ward         

Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

Member: Lord, have mercy!

Jesus: But you left my body, quit the church.

Member: But, Lord, you know what they did….

Jesus: Yes, and I will deal with them in their time, but you left me, abandoned me.

Member: but, but….

Jesus: I know: They were judgmental when they should have been helpful; They stepped on your fingers when you were trying to claw your way back; When you needed a helping hand, they slapped you down for the shortcomings you were trying to ask for help to deal with, but YOU left me, quit on ME.

Member: but, they built walls when I needed bridges, and I did not want to be part of them.

Jesus: But, I was asking that you be part of me, not part of them.  You know, I never allowed any temptation too great for you; I had the belief in you that you would overcome and be there, in my body, for the next one who was reaching. That you would be the compassionate hand helping instead of criticizing, that the lessons of your own hurt would teach you how. YOU abandoned MY body to those who hurt you and left them to hurt others and were not a balm for those others. Every one lost was like a crucifixion nail in my body and you were the hammer.

Member: Please, Lord…

Jesus: And who knows that your example might have saved some of the “them” that hurt you. But, you let YOUR hurt, your emotions, your feelings dominate your connection to me and your concern for others. You were all about yourself. It seems that you never knew me or what I was about, So…..

This was written for those who quit going to church. But, it could well apply to many who attend.

That there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it. (1 Cor 12:25-27).
 
Keith Ward

We usually think of enablers in a negative sense—people who allow others to engage in destructive behaviors by their avoidance of the issues.  But enablers can be positive influences as well.  Teachers and coaches are enablers.

            I once had a student who, by the time she reached her high school years, had convinced herself that she could not memorize music.  We discussed the various types of memory—muscle memory, aural memory, visual memory, and intellectual memory, all of which are involved in memorizing music.  All of our competitions involved memorizing, and though I always gave my students a choice about participating, she wanted to do so, even though the process of memorizing seemed to elude her. 

            She would only attempt one type of memorizing—muscle memory.  “That’s the only way I can do it,” she said, over and over as if it were a mantra.  The problem with relying on muscle memory alone is that when you are nervous, you tense up and suddenly everything “feels” different.  She wouldn’t even try to work on the other methods.  So I took things into my own hands to prove to her she could.

            Every quarter we had a class instead of a private lesson.  For that quarter class I arranged learning stations.  The students moved from station to station, accomplishing tasks in the various areas of music, keeping track of their scores as they went.  As one student left a station, another took his place. 

            At one station I placed an eight bar piece from a beginner book on a music stand.  They were to sit and study the music making mental note of beginning notes, the way the music moved, and the rhythm pattern, then try to play it without the music, having made use of both visual and intellectual memory.  I stood at this station since I had to be the one to look at the music and tell them if they got it right.  If it was correct the first try, they got 10 points, the second try they got 5 and the third they got 3.  If they still did not play it correctly, they got 1 point for trying and then moved on.  This was a class of teenagers, students who performed at the moderately difficult level in the state competition, so playing this simple five finger melody with a two chord accompaniment was like asking a college math professor to do the multiplication tables.  Only one student took 2 tries and it was NOT the young lady in question.  She accomplished the task on her first attempt.

            “I know what you were trying to do,” she said afterward, “but you’re wrong.  I can’t memorize that way.”  I wanted to scream at her stubbornness.  I had just proven that she had the intellectual capacity for more than basic muscle memory and she was still arguing with me.

            I imagine God must feel the same way about us sometimes.

            May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, Col 1:12.

            To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, 2 Thes 1:11.

            For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. 2 Tim 1:7.

            Who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. 1 Pet 1:5.

            “Yes, but…” I hear you saying.  It isn’t me you are saying that to—it’s God.  It’s his power that has been granted to you, to endure, to overcome, to fulfill every good work, to last until the end.  It’s the same power, Paul says in Eph 1:20, which raised Christ from the dead.  That power will enlighten you, give you hope, wisdom, knowledge, and a rich inheritance; it is “immeasurable” (vv 14-19).  To deny it with a “yes but” is to call God a liar.

            Maybe the problem is that we want God’s power to do it for us, with no effort required on our parts.  It doesn’t work that way.  We must patiently endure.  We must do good and stay faithful no matter how difficult it becomes.  That is what God’s power, not our own, enables us to do.  And that means, “I can’t,” is no longer a valid excuse.
 
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Eph 3:20,21.
 
Dene Ward
 

During the last presidential term I heard a lot about “the debt ceiling.”  A lot of my brothers and sisters are outraged over having it raised.  It makes no sense.  We all want this country on sound economic footing again.  How in the world can going even deeper into debt do that?

            Yet we ask God to raise our debt ceiling to him again and again.  Instead of coming to grips with sin and learning to overcome it, we whine about being “only human” and how we “just can’t help it.”  “Just a little more forgiveness today, God,” we ask, and the day after, and the day after, with no sign of effort on our parts to improve.

            The problem may be that we really don’t want to repent.  Peter says that in the times past we lived like we wanted to, immoral and fulfilling every sinful desire.  Now we are to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for human passions but for the will of God, 1 Pet 4:3. Enough is enough, he says (“times past suffices”).  Change!  You can’t “make Jesus the Lord of your life” without repentance.

            Or maybe the problem is laziness.  It is hard to fight the Devil.  God never promised otherwise.  He calls it a war in more than one place.  Take up the whole armor of God that…having done all, you may be able to stand, Eph 6:13.  “Having done all,” he says.  That means when the battle is over, not when I get tired or even wounded.  You keep on, even when you wonder if you can take another step or land another blow.  Just exactly how tired do you think the Lord felt after a night of torture?  Resist the devil, James says, and he will flee from you.  He won’t run away if all we do is stand there waggling our fingers in our ears chanting, “Nanny nanny boo boo.”  He won’t run away if we give up after the first time he knocks us down.  You have to fight, really fight, and keep on fighting until the end.

            But just maybe our biggest problem is that we don’t trust God to do what he says he will.  Pray that you enter not into temptation, Jesus told his apostles, Luke 22:46.  The Lord knows how to deliver the godly out of temptation, Peter reminds us, 2 Pet 2:9.  With every temptation he will make also the way of escape that you may be able to endure it, Paul says, 1 Cor 10:13.  Don’t we believe that? Maybe if I don’t pray those prayers I can say there was no escape and excuse myself once again.  Maybe I can say that God made the escape route even more difficult than the temptation.  Maybe I can say he hid it too well.  Maybe, maybe, maybe…

            So, which is our problem?  Are we unwilling to repent?  Are we a bunch of spoiled children who want it all handed to us on a silver platter?  Or do we just not believe like we say we do?  How high do we expect God to make that debt ceiling?  Do I want it higher and higher so I can sin as long as I want to? Do I want to excuse my sin instead of working hard to grow up in Christ, to endure the trials, and to control myself! 

            Every time we sin, we are asking God to raise our debt ceiling.  If anything, the debt ceiling we want is far more outrageous than anything Washington could ever come up with.
 
For the death he died he died to sin, once for all, but the life he lives he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions. Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and your members to God as instruments for righteousness. Rom 6:10-13.                                                                       

Dene Ward

I suppose it started when they were little.  Even though it was not yet mandatory, we bought our babies a car seat and put them in it every time we got in the car. 

            We actually had someone say to us, “How do you get them to sit in the car seat?” 

            We looked at each other, more than slightly appalled.  Finally Keith said, “I’m bigger than they are.”  Funny how these parents can manage to get it done now when they would get in trouble with the law if they didn’t.

            So our boys knew that they were always to be buckled in when we got in the car.   When they could finally do it themselves, they did.  It reached the point that I no longer checked on them.

            A little over twenty years ago we had a head-on collision.  It could have been much worse than it was.  Keith has a plastic eye socket to show for it, and I have a neck that gives me grief on a fairly regular basis. 

            The boys are fine, but when I turned around to check on them after the crash, I had a moment of shock.  Nathan was sitting in the middle of the back seat instead of his normal place behind his dad.  The seat belt on his side had not worked so he simply moved over to one that did.  He never said anything, never asked what to do, never thought about sitting there without a seat belt.  I never knew about it until that moment.  Because of his training, that ten-year-old had a sense of ought—“I ought to be buckled in”—and that may have saved his life, and certainly saved him injury.

            Christians should have a sense of ought born of integrity and diligence.  They do what needs to be done without being told—in fact they look for things that need to be done.  A Christian would never see a problem and say, “that’s So-and-So’s job,” and leave it undone when he is already there and could take care of it quickly and easily.

            A Christian does not have to be coerced or cajoled into doing right.  It should shame a church when the elders must beg them to save seats or parking spaces for the visitors. It should make us cringe to think we need some sort of metaphorical carrot (or stick) to do what anyone with a little thoughtful consideration would do, whether he was a Christian or not.

            A Christian does right whether anyone else does it or not.  “They don’t do it, so why should I?” would never enter his thoughts.  “He gets away with it,” would make no difference to him because he does what he should simply because he “ought” to do it.

            My little boy found another reason for doing what he ought to do—it kept him safe.  I doubt he has ever forgotten that lesson.  Our true test of spirituality is this—can we see that the “oughts” in this life will keep us safe in the next?  They all stem from a deeper perspective than self.  Maybe sitting in a certain pew won’t really send us to hell, but the attitude that our conveniences and preferences are more important than a lost soul surely might.
 
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed. Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness? 2 Pet 3:10,11.
 
Dene Ward

This time of year we see a lot of birds passing through on their migration back north.  Sandhill cranes fly right over us following the same flight path as the jets, helicopters, and blimps, from our southeast corner to our northwest boundary post.  You can hear them coming from miles away.  A couple of goldfinches visit our feeder for two or three days in the spring and fall.  Their bright yellow is hard to miss, even for me.  A painted bunting thrills us with his lightning quick “here and gone” visits.  A blue grosbeak couple spent a few weeks with us last spring.  They actually take the time to nest and breed before moving on.

              A few weeks ago we had another two day visitor—a woodcock.  He’s an odd-looking fellow, a foot long or less, with a chunky body, a striped head and a long thin bill.  He looks a bit like a bent old man with a cane.  I watched as he walked around the foot of the feeder, poking that bill into the ground again and again like a baker checking for the doneness of her cake.  Suddenly he plunged his beak to the hilt, then began pumping away.  He’s found something, I thought, and sure enough he began to pull up a long black worm.  The worm did its best to hold onto the last clod of dirt, stretching like melted cheese on a pizza, but eventually he popped out and the woodcock downed him in the blink of an eye.  The next day the woodcock was gone too, another sojourner on his way home.

              We sing a song:  “This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through.”  Is that how we really feel?  Those migrating birds have no problem leaving behind feeders full of seeds that magically replenish themselves.  They’re here and gone without a thought for what’s left behind.  Even the grosbeaks who stay long enough to build a nest and raise a few chicks will up and leave as soon as the task is accomplished.

              And what do we do but spend our time, money, and effort on the temporary with little thought for the eternal.  We don’t just build a nest, we build a monument.  “This is where someone like me ought to be living and this is the type of house I ought to have in the neighborhood I ought to have it.”  Would we spend that much time, money, and effort on a motel room?  Because that’s all this world is.  How about spending that much time, money, and effort on the treasure in heaven?

              You’re just a goldfinch passing though for a couple of days.  Even the birds know where home really is.

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. (Heb 11:13-16)

Dene Ward

I remember those exciting mornings when, as a child, our parents woke us for an early start on a vacation trip.  It was dark and, even though it was summer in Florida, cool and damp.  Those were pre-seat belt days and often I would be carried straight out of bed and laid on the back seat, while my little sister got the back window.  Then we drove for several hours before the light finally woke us and we stopped for breakfast.

We didn’t do much in the way of vacations—we couldn’t afford them.  Usually they were visits to distant family.  My parents left early so we had more driving time and avoided a motel bill, but those trips were still exciting.  We could not afford weekends away or trips to resorts or amusement parks, so any sort of trip was special.  And that breakfast out was special too because it was rare.  But we weren’t unusual—everyone lived that way.  Rising early for something that special was common to us all.

We still have things we rise early for—work, school, a hunting trip, tailgating before a ball game, Black Friday, and yes, even leaving early for a vacation.  But do we ever rise up early for God?  Did you know that one of the hardest things for people to give up is their Sunday mornings?  At least it would seem that way when they skip the Bible study hour or at best swarm in at the last minute so they can get every extra minute possible of sleep.

We are not living up to our heritage.  God’s people have always risen early to pray, to meditate, to worship.  Abraham (Gen 19:27), Jacob (Gen 28:18), Moses (Ex 24:4), and Job (1:5) all rose early to make sacrifices and meet with God.  Elkanah and his family rose early to travel to the tabernacle for the feast days (1 Sam 1:19).  Jesus rose early to go to the Temple (John 8:2) and so did the crowds who went to hear him.  It may not have been early when Jesus went to pray, but it was by the time he finished, having “prayed all night” (Luke 6:12). 

David woke early to pray.  My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise. (Ps 119:148).  The Jews recognized three night watches, beginning at sunset the night before and ending at dawn the next morning.  It may have been a bit hyperbolic but if not, David evidently awoke before each one began just to pray.  How many times have you or I ever interrupted our sleep to pray as often as that?  How many times have we done it even once?

Obviously, their prayers and their worship meant a lot to those faithful people.  Neither was viewed as a duty, but as a privilege and a pleasure, just as much a pleasure as that long awaited vacation trip that has us up and at it and ready to go before dawn.

More than that, we should be gratefully rising early to serve a God who rose early to save us.  And now, because you have done all these works, says Jehovah, and I spoke unto you, rising up early and speaking, but you heard not; and I called you, but you answered not: (Jer 7:13)  Those words to a faithless people can apply to us too.

Maybe the problem isn’t attitude, but a simple lack of preparation.  Maybe Saturdays should not be for wearing ourselves out and staying up late.  Maybe they should be, at least a little bit, about preparation for our worship together on Sunday mornings.  God went to a lot of trouble to prepare things for us.  It seems a small thing to ask to prepare ourselves physically and mentally for Him at least one day a week.
 
And…evening had come, since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the day before the Sabbath, (Mark 15:42).

Dene Ward

I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. Phil 4:11
 
            As many times as I have read that verse it has only been recently that I noticed something about it.  Some people seem content whereas others are never satisfied, always ambitious, trying to fly higher, live higher, and be higher than they are at any given moment.  It’s just a basic personality difference, right?  No, Paul says that contentment is something you learn.
 
           Paul was certainly on the fast track that day as he walked toward Damascus.  He had had a prestigious education and was highly esteemed by the Jewish leadership even as a young man.  He almost certainly would have wound up on the Sanhedrin and lived life in at least the upper middle classes if not the aristocratic upper class.  And he gave it all up.  But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, Phil 3:7-9.
 
           So how did he learn to be content with less money, less comfort, less esteem, less of just about everything than he had planned and expected out of life?  He tells us himself.
 
           Paul rejoiced, not in fame and fortune, but in the Lord (3:7; 4:4).  He found happiness in his relationship with God and Christ, and with the knowledge of his salvation.  That is also why he considered dying to be “gain” (1:21).  Is there anything that should cause us more joy than knowing we will live with our God for eternity?  And being happy is perhaps the greatest key to contentment.
 
           He used the avenue of prayer (4:6,7).  That prayer gave him peace of mind because he was no longer anxious.  He had turned everything over to God and trusted him to provide.  It is easier to be content when you know someone else is in control.
 
           He was careful what he thought about (4:8).  I learned a long time ago to avoid looking at house plans and stop walking through model homes.  I never window shop for things I cannot afford anyway.  I never indulge in “What if I won a million dollars?” daydreams.  Those things don’t bother some people, but they are exactly the kinds of things that make me discontent.  As long as I avoid doing those things I am perfectly happy with my life.  What kinds of things do you need to avoid thinking about?   Fill your mind instead with Paul’s list:  whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
 
           Paul learned the lessons that life had to teach him (4:12).  Too many times we go through situations and events, completely missing the abundance of wisdom we could be learning and stowing away for the future.  We may be going through a particular trial for exactly that reason—God wants us to learn something.  Maybe it’s learning the relative importance of things.  Maybe it’s how to handle a problem so we can help others later on who have the same trial.  Pay attention to what’s happening and use it to grow, not to fail the test of faith.  When you know there’s a reason, even if you cannot figure out exactly what it is, it is much easier to be content.

            Paul also took advantage of the help he was given, not just any help, but Divine help.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me, (4:13).  With that kind of help you can learn to handle anything, or don’t you believe Christ is more powerful than the devil?  It’s one or the other.

            Paul tells us that we can learn the same contentment he had.  What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me--practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you, (4:9).  He says you can do it.  He says I can do it.  We can all learn to be content no matter what life throws at us, and in that learning, gain the peace that only the God of peace can give.
 
Now there is great gain in godliness with contentment, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content, 1 Tim 6:6-8.
 
Dene Ward

Shortly after we married, my new husband informed me that to be a real Ward I needed to learn to play pinochle.  Pinochle marathons were standard family entertainment throughout the whole clan.  So he patiently taught me one of the most confusing games I ever learned how to play.

            First, you only played with part of the deck—nothing below tens.  Second, the ten was higher than the king.  What?  Who ever heard of such a thing?  Plus, you played with two sets of each suit, not one.  And that was just the beginning.

            There were two point systems you had to learn, how to count meld and how to count the playoff.  A jack in every suit was worth 4 points in the meld, but if you wound up with all of them after the playoff they were worth nothing.  Two kings in every suit were worth 80 points meld, but was not a particularly good thing to have in your hand.  You wound up giving about half of them to the other team—four points lost in the playoff.  A “pinochle,” from which the game gets its name, is a queen of spades with a jack of diamonds.  If you have one, it’s worth 4 meld points.  A double pinochle is worth, not 8, but 30 points, far more than triple the single.  Yet a triple pinochle is worth 90, exactly triple the double.  And in the playoff?  All three are worth nothing!

            And the bidding!  Figuring out how high to bid, especially when your partner was bidding too, was nerve wracking.  You practically had to learn a secret language.  Standard opening bid was 50.  If you were the one who opened and you said 55, it meant you had 50 meld points and you did NOT want to call trump.  If you had an ace in every suit plus another 20 points meld, you said “3,” which really meant “53,” unless someone bid before you, in which case you added three to his bid and left off the “fifty.”  Once you passed 60, you had to increase your bid by fives.

            And then there was the trump suit, which only the winning bidder could call, and he usually called his strongest suit, which was often his longest suit too, but not necessarily, because you could only count the meld points for a run in the trump suit, and if your meld was low, that was more important than how many were in the suit. 

            Here is the important thing about trumps:  a trump card, even just a jack, beat anything else in the other suits, including aces.

            Sometimes Christians stoop to playing what they believe is the trump card.  “That offends me,” has become the sure-fire way to get what you want when others want something else.  I wonder if people would do that if they realized what they were saying about themselves.

            First, “offend,” sometimes translated “stumble,” doesn’t mean “I don’t like it,” or, “That hurt my feelings.”  It means “to sin.”  If you are being offended, you are sinning.  That’s what the Greek word means, and that is why Jesus said if your hand “offends” you it would be better to cut it off than to go into hell with both hands.  You are much better off without anything that causes you to sin.  So if you are going to use “the trump card” you must admit that you are actively sinning about the issue under discussion.

            Second, the strong must always yield to the weak, so if you expect everyone to yield to you, then you must admit that you are the weaker, less knowledgeable brother.  I have yet to see any of my troublemaking brethren admit any such thing.  God was eminently wise (are we surprised?) to put it exactly that way—the strong must always yield to the weak.  Who is going to stand up and say, “I am weak and ignorant?”  No, everyone will want to be the wise one, whether he is or not, and thus everyone will be yielding to everyone else--at least that is the way it is supposed to work.

            So the next time you get your ego out of joint, or your feelings hurt, or you find yourself wanting things done your way and only your way because, after all, you are smarter than everyone else, remember those two things.  “That offends me” may be a trump card, but you only get to play that card if you admit that you are sinning and that you are weak and ignorant of the scriptures.  Any takers?
 
We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, "The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me." Rom 15:1-3
 
Dene Ward