Today's post is taken from Doy Moyer's blog, Searching Daily.

Don’t pretend you don’t have it. When reading Scripture there are people, events, and laws that make us gasp and, think, “really, how? Why?” and they cause repulsion. If they don’t, then I’d think there is a problem with us. How can we read about what Cain did with Abel, what Ham did with Noah, what Judah did with Tamar, what David did with Uriah and Bathsheba, what Amnon did with his sister Tamar, and on we can go, without getting a bit of that “ugh, this is nasty” feeling? 

Then, there are laws given under Moses that we look at and think, “I don’t get it. Why this? Why would God accommodate that? Aren’t some of these laws a bit brutal? Why didn’t God just do it another way?” We feel uneasy, especially when unbelievers point to some of these laws as proof that the Bible is flawed and promotes evils like slavery and hatred of women. Do we just walk away at this point? 

Then, we feel badly for getting that “ugh” feeling. Aren’t we supposed to delight in the word of God? Isn’t it supposed to be edifying and helpful? What are we missing here? 

I’m going to suggest something here that may seem a bit odd, but here it is: we are supposed to feel this way about these things. 

Yes, we are supposed to get that “ugh” sense when reading these things. Why? 

Because all of it is a reminder of what sin does. The Bible is not intended just to make us feel good. It’s not a nice little “have a good day” self-help book. It’s gritty and shows the reality of evil. It opens up the wounds of life and we can see the gashes, the gore, the blood and guts of why sin is so bad. We naturally are going to resist. We don’t want to see it. We think God’s message ought to be roses without thorns, but that’s not reality. Not even close. 

I believe one of the primary purposes of the Law was essentially to say, “This is what it’s like to be under sin. This is the best you get when sin has split asunder the fabric of creation. This accommodates a corrupted world, and it’s not pretty.” It’s meant to cause people to think that this is a burden they cannot bear. Isn’t that what Peter indicated in Acts 15:10 when he spoke of the “yoke” that “neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear”? 

Even though the Law contained glimpses of God’s grace, and though many still found delight in that aspect of it (Psalm 1), the reality is that it was not the ideal at all. The Law wasn’t meant to make everyone feel good. It wasn’t meant to set the entire world straight. It wasn’t meant to be the fix to a world of evil and corruption. It was meant to show sin for what it was. It was meant to be incomplete. It was meant to cause people to think that there must be something better. It was meant to keep the wound open for all to see so that they would long for a better way. That’s one of the reasons I’m so amazed some of the people wanted to hang on to the Law so tightly. They weren’t willing to give up what clearly was not ideal for the solution offered by God. 

When we get that “ugh” feeling, the ugliness of sin is exactly what we are seeing and feeling. And we should feel it. The Law shows us the despair of sin, not the solution to it. Read Romans and Galatians. 

However, when people see the Law isolated from the rest of the story, they see the broken, torn, wrecked visage of God’s image, but they don’t see the goal or purpose for which it was made. They don’t see the ending. It’s like watching a movie or reading a book part way in, just enough to see the plot go bad, and thinking that’s all there is. The solution may not have presented itself yet, so they assume it’s not there and they turn it off. People do that with Scripture. They fail to connect the dots and see how it all comes together in the end. God was not giving laws that we’re going to be left that way. They were temporary, until the seed promise would come. 

The whole point was to show that there was indeed a need for something better and greater. The Law was not meant to be an end in itself. The people and events we see that demonstrate over and again how ugly sin is were not meant to present an idyllic setting that we are supposed to fall in love with. It’s meant to be ugly so that we see the need for the greater solution. 

God’s plan was not complete in the Law or in the people who acted so badly. God’ s plan was to bring about Jesus Christ so that in Him that ugly monster of sin and its consequences can finally be buried in its own stench and ruins. Christ came to redeem and renew. He is the solution. 

And the cross? Here is the culmination of what the horror of sin does. The One who came in the flesh, the perfection of God’s image, is marred more than any man (Isa 52:14). Through His death, the image of God may be reclaimed and renewed, and we may share in it. Sins are forgiven. Purpose is renewed. 

Do not think for a moment that the way Scripture is given is without purpose. Sin is presented before us in all of its ugliness, and the people and the Law reflect that. Yet it was all part of the plan to get people to see the need for a real solution. That solution would not be found in more laws. It would be found in Christ, where the grace and love of God is fully revealed. That uncomfortable feeling we get is meant to bring us to Christ. 

Doy Moyer
From the blog Searching Daily

I hardly ever go to the mall.  Because our finances have always been tight, I only shop for things when I need them, otherwise it seems to me an exercise in futility.  I can’t afford to get “tired” of something.  If it works, we use it.  If it hasn’t fallen apart yet, we wear it.  Yet sometimes I have to make that trip, usually once a year, twice at the most.  The first time I made it with a toddler and a babe in arms was almost disastrous. 
            Both my boys were obedient little boys.  Not that they came that way—it took a lot of effort and consistent training because they both had Ward blood in them, but eventually I never had to worry about taking them anywhere.  Two year old Lucas followed along as I traipsed from store to store looking for—well, I don’t even remember now.  I had Nathan in one arm, a diaper bag in the other, and my purse over one shoulder, so there was no hand to hold on to Lucas.  He was usually right by my side, and if he suddenly disappeared, I looked back and he had just lagged a bit as we went by a particularly eye-catching display.
            Then, just as we left one of the anchor stores on the far side of the mall, and stepped into the open area, I looked down and he wasn’t there, nor anywhere close.  My heart plummeted, my stomach heaved, and my mind screamed his name before I could even get it out of my mouth.  I ran back into that store, and there ten feet inside, he was standing by a display.  What had caught his interest I don’t know--I doubt I ever knew.  I called his name and he looked at me and smiled and came running.  Me?  I knelt on the floor and somehow with a squirmy four month old and a diaper bag and a purse, I managed to wrap him up in my arms and hug him so tightly that he started to pull away.
            “You need to be careful to stay with Mommy, okay?” I managed with a slight catch in my throat, and he nodded happily.  On we went to do the necessary shopping, but my eye was on him far better than it had been before.
            I doubt very many of you have not had something similar happen to you.  It is, perhaps, the worst feeling in the world to think your child might be lost.
            It amazes me when people do not have that same horrible feeling when their child’s soul is lost.  How can you not run around calling his name and asking people for help?  How can you not agonize about it?  I want to share with you two wonderful examples should you ever need them—which I pray neither you nor I ever do. 
            We have spoken with the lost child of a close friend more than once, offered to study the Bible, and just conversed about life in general at other times.  She appreciates everything we try to do for her child, whether it works or not.  She has even told her child, when that child was mildly disgruntled about one conversation, “Isn’t it wonderful that they care so much?” which effectively put that problem to rest. 
            I keep in contact with the child of another friend.  That child is not amenable to spiritual discussions these days, but he knows I will say something every time anyway, and probably because of his good parents, he accepts my overtures in a friendly way, tolerant when I leave him with a statement like, “You know what you need to do.”  She has told me she doesn’t care what I say to her child, “Just please keep saying something.”
            Neither one of these parents allow their children to complain in their presence about the ways we approach them.  Neither one of them blames us nor anyone else for the decisions their adult children have made, and their children know that too.  I carry great hopes for both of those children, and for those grieving parents.  I feel like their lost children will indeed be “found” some day, partly because of the attitude their parents have managed to keep throughout the whole ordeal. 
            If you have a lost child, follow their example.  As long as you allow that child to blame someone besides himself, he will never see the need for repentance.  As long as you allow her to make excuses, whether justified or not, she will think everyone else is at fault, not her. 
            When I lost Lucas for those few minutes, I didn’t care who helped find him, or what I looked or sounded like as I went running and hollering back into that store.  I just wanted my baby safe and sound.  Can you imagine someone saying, “No!  I don’t want you to look for my child?” 
            Your child may be standing right in front of you, but if his soul is lost, he might as well be a helpless toddler lost at the mall.  Do what you need to do, and accept the help of others without hamstringing them. I lost my little boy once.  I don’t want to ever go through that again, but if I do, rest assured, I will be calling you for help to find him, and I won’t care a bit how you go about it.
 
But the father said to his servants, 'Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to celebrate, Luke 15:22-24.
 
Dene Ward

"... church gurus will insist that we should have no negativism in our message—no guilt, no wrong, no justice, no judgment. We must not make people feel bad about themselves. But then the cross becomes a charade, for then there is no wrath of God that falls upon the Son of God, who took my hell as his portion. If you do not hear of your sin, your guilt, your ruin, how can the cross of Christ become the shelter of Christ from those very curses? But the current preference is to hear of the bland benevolence of a non-existent, spineless deity."

(D.R. Davis, "Micah," 50)
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Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

Matt. 8:1-4  "And when he was come down from the mountain, great multitudes followed him.  And behold, there came to him a leper and worshipped him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.  And he stretched forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou made clean. And straightway his leprosy was cleansed.  And Jesus saith unto him, See thou tell no man; but go, show thyself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded, for a testimony unto them."
            This man who came to Jesus was an outcast.  Moses taught in Numbers 5:2 that all lepers were to stay outside the camp.  When the people came to the promised land, lepers were kept out of the cities (2 Kings. 7:3-8).  If one touched a leper, he became unclean (Lev. 22:4-6).  Because of that, anytime they were around anyone, they had to annouce themselves as unclean.  (Lev. 13:45-46).  Lepers were generally looked down upon as being cursed by God.  They were shunned.  Faith certainly wasn't expected from those people.  And yet, see his faith:  "If you will, you can make me clean."  There was no doubt at all in this leper regarding the power of the Lord.  When one compares him to the "good" Jew in Mark 9:22-23 who said "If you can" do anything to help, who comes out ahead? 

Matt. 8:5-13  "And when he was entered into Capernaum, there came unto him a centurion, beseeching him, and saying, Lord, my servant lies in the house sick of the palsy, grievously tormented.  And he said unto him, I will come and heal him.  And the centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant shall be healed.  For I also am a man under authority, having under myself soldiers: and I say to this one, Go, and he goes; and to another, Come, and he comes; and to my servant, Do this, and he does it.  And when Jesus heard it, he marvelled, and said to them that followed, Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel.  And I say unto you, that many shall come from the east and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven:  but the sons of the kingdom shall be cast forth into the outer darkness: there shall be the weeping and the gnashing of teeth.  And Jesus said unto the centurion, Go your way; as you have believed, so be it done unto you. And the servant was healed in that hour."
            Here we have a gentile, a 'faithless, uncircumcised dog!'  No one would expect great faith from such a one.  And yet his faith in the power of Jesus was such that he believed His authority stretched far enough to heal his servant.  Contrast this with the Jews, all of whom asked Jesus to come to the sick person.  In fact, in the very next chapter it is a ruler of the Jews who begs Jesus to come when his daughter is "at the point of death" (Matt. 9:18).  Even Jesus is shocked at this gentile's faith. 

            So often in the stories told in the Gospels it is the people from whom the least is expected that the greatest faith is seen.  It is the outcasts, those looked down upon who amaze even the Lord with their faith.  Jesus taught in the synagogues, yes, but He also taught in the marketplaces, on fishing boats, atop mountains, along roadways and in homes.  We should never limit ourselves in preaching the Gospel only to those we expect to respond.  We might just be surprised at who has the greatest faith, and who actually has very little.
 
Mark 16:15  "Then he told them, "As you go into all the world, proclaim the gospel to everyone."
 
Lucas Ward

I have a feeling that some of Bella and Chloe’s playtime might have been a little unsettling to Bella’s youngest master.  Young wild animals learn survival skills through play—how to hunt and how to fight.  Even domesticated animals learn some of these things.  Puppies always engage in rough and tumble play, including baby nips and growls.  Chloe and Bella did the same, and being larger and older, it looked much fiercer.
            Teeth bared, growls ferocious, their muzzles tilted back and forth as if trying to find the best place to lock onto one another.  Larger Bella ran at Chloe and broadsided her, sending her rolling, then pounced on top.  In seconds, more experienced Chloe had her legs wrapped around Bella and flipped her over, like a wrestler reversing a pin.  Sometimes they ran headlong into one another like charging bulls and as they met, the saliva flew in all directions.  I learned to stand way back.
            How did I know this wasn’t real, that it was simply an older dog teaching a younger through play?  Because they never drew blood.  If you watched their mouths, neither ever closed tightly on the other dog’s body anywhere.  And when they finished, they stood panting for a few moments, energy spent, both tongues dangling toward the ground, looking at one another.  Often they would touch noses, then walk shoulder to shoulder back to the shade, Chloe under the truck and Bella under a tree—lesson for the day over.
            I remember a time when brethren could discuss things, even differing views on a passage, and each come away having learned something.  They could trust one another, not only to have each other’s best interest at heart, but also to listen and consider fairly, and never to become angry.  Even if voices rose, no blood was drawn, spiritually speaking, respect continued, and both left with more knowledge and insight.
            What has happened to us?  If someone disagrees with me, it makes me mad or it hurts my feelings, and either way I don’t like him any more.  It is no longer about learning and growing—it about winning arguments and putting people down.  Instead of being able to trust a person because he is a brother, one must try to find a brother he can trust, and it isn’t easy.  That’s not just a shame, it’s a tragedy.  If a man say, I love God, and hates his brother, he is a liar: for he that loves not his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment have we from him, that he who loves God love his brother also. 1 John 4:20-21
            God meant us to learn and grow together, honing our skills and building one another up.  It might make us occasional sparring partners, but in that sparring we learn how to handle the word more accurately, we learn how to defeat the gainsayers who deny the Lord, and the false teachers who might be after our souls.  And after that sparring match, we “touch gloves” and leave with our love and respect intact.
            At least that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
 
Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17
 
Dene Ward

We had a second stint of puppysitting recently and this time Chloe adapted more quickly.  By the end of the first day, she and now six month old Bella were romping together in the field.  Chloe was still the boss and called the shots—including the play schedule—but play they did, especially in the evenings when Chloe would crawl out from under the porch, stretch, look over her shoulder at Bella and scamper off with a toss of the head—an open invitation to “catch me if you can.”
            Bella also came with us when I gave Chloe her morning walk around the property.  Chloe usually accompanies me in a steady trot, stopping here and there to sniff at an armadillo hole or a depression at the bottom of the fence where a possum makes its nightly excursions.  Bella preferred to run everywhere, usually in the meandering lines of Billy, the little boy in the Family Circus comic.  Then when she suddenly looked up and found herself behind, she would come bulling her way past us in a brown blur.
            It was one of those times that particular morning and I heard her overtaking us like a buffalo stampede.  The path at that point was narrow, just room for me, my two walking sticks, and Chloe.  As Bella drew near, I just happened to be looking down when she very neatly leapfrogged over Chloe without disturbing a fur on her head.  In a few seconds she was around the bend and out of sight.
            I wonder how many we leapfrog over every day and leave in the dust behind us because we’re too impatient to wait, too unconcerned to care, too impulsive to even notice?  Sometimes the young with their new ideas, scriptural though they may be, have too little respect for the old warriors who need time to consider and be sure.  Sometimes the more knowledgeable become too arrogant to slow their pace for the babes or those whose capacity may not be as deep.  Sometimes the strong forget that God expects them to help the weak, the ill, the faltering.  All these people are just obstacles in our way, things to get past in our rush.
            When you leapfrog over a brother and leave him behind, how do you know he will make it?  God didn’t expect us to walk the path alone.  He meant for us to walk it together.  When you lack the love to walk it with your brother, you may as well not walk it at all.
 
Now we that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each one of us please his neighbor for that which is good, unto edifying. For Christ also pleased not himself; but, as it is written, The reproaches of them that reproached thee fell upon me. Romans 15:1-3.
 
Dene Ward

We are puppysitting for some friends, a four month old chocolate lab named Bella.  She is already taller than our full-grown Australian cattle dog, though not as heavy, a long-legged gangly dog still with a puppy mindset—which means faster is better than slower, all things are meant to be chewed upon, and play time is the only time. 
            Chloe, on the other hand, is middle-aged, 6½, or about 45 in dog years.  To her the best things in the world are a belly scratch, a chewy treat, and a nap, and one of the worst things in the world is a puppy being foisted upon her carefully controlled domain.  She learned quickly that Bella has difficulty getting under the truck—something about all those long knobby leg bones getting in the way—so she spends the vast majority of her day there while Bella roams about being a curious puppy.  Someone I know well has learned not to leave things lying about outside if he doesn’t want them ventilated with puppy-teeth holes, something I consider an unexpected benefit to Bella’s visit.
            Chloe is not a purely sedentary lap dog, though.  She enjoys nosing around some, and will run back and forth to the gate to greet us.  She walks around the property with me and often leaves me in the dust when she spies something interesting in the corner woods.  Bella is walking with us now.  Her nose is always in the air, and her ears cocked for any sounds that might drift our way—one neighbor’s baying bloodhound and the other’s crowing rooster, for example.  But she doesn’t listen long.  As soon as she determines the direction, she is off in a shot while Chloe listens a bit more, making a studied determination about whether the sound needs investigating or not.
            Bella thinks everything is a game.  She has no ability to distinguish when it’s time to be serious.  Chloe will stop for a drink and Bella will be all over her, standing in the water, stepping on the edge of the pan, causing it to tilt and spilling the water everywhere.  When a frog jumps in the old tubs Keith uses to soak his hickory wood for smoking meat, she jumps right in after it, NOT looking before she leaps, landing belly deep with a splash.  Reminds me of the puppy we had once who thought the rattlesnake next to the woodpile was a toy and tried to play with it.  We managed to get him away before he was bitten, but when we left for a camping trip, the neighbor found him one morning with fang marks in his neck.  Lucky for him, the skin there was loose and that’s all the snake got, not the muscle in his neck.
            Yet despite their own preferences, both of these dogs are adapting.  Chloe finally learned to quit running away and stand up for herself.  After a nip or two on the nose, Bella knows who the boss is now and she will actually “bow” before Chloe, lowering her height by crouching on her belly in front of her.  Chloe will now stand nose to nose with her, sniffing, and then suddenly take off in a run, looking behind to make sure Bella is chasing her.  Bella has learned to be a little more discreet and Chloe has learned that fun is still—well, fun, and it’s worth having some once in awhile.
            Older and younger people—older and younger Christians, no matter their physical age—need to learn from one another in the same way.  We teach our children not to go running down the halls, especially among older people who have issues with balance and might be knocked over.  A fall for the elderly could easily lead to a broken bone, and how many broken bones have led to a fatal case of pneumonia?  That’s not something a child would ever think of, which is why the adults must teach them.  In the same way, babes in Christ mustn’t go running helter-skelter down our spiritual halls with no concern about the fragile souls we might encounter.  Yet, the older ones need to learn that we must go out into those halls and encounter those souls, not sit quietly and safely in our pews.
            The younger must learn the need for wisdom and discretion and the value of quiet reverence, but the older must learn that “emotion” is not a four letter word. 
            The younger must learn respect for those they label “nay-sayers.”  They must realize that those old “fuddy-duddy” cautions come from concern for their younger souls’ safety and good, not from cowardice or a lack of faith.  The older must remind themselves that God called them to take a risk, to exercise their faith not to sit in dusty rooms discussing it.
            The younger in the faith and the older in the faith—we learn from each other, but not if we’re too busy putting one another down, refusing to listen to one another, with attitudes full of disrespect and disdain. 
 
The glory of young men is their strength, but the beauty of old men is their gray hair, Prov 20:29.
 
Dene Ward

     How many times have I heard people read about Abraham and Sarah's subterfuge, "She is my sister," and then say something like, "How could 'the Friend of God,' 'the Father of the Faithful' do such a thing?  Where is all that faith he is so renowned for?
     The problem is, we judge them by what they eventually became, forgetting that they did not start there, any more than we started where we now are in our journey of faith.  We don't allow them to grow.  The Abraham and Sarah in Genesis 12 were not the Abraham and Sarah in Genesis 22.  So where did Abraham and Sarah really come from?
     Ur, of course, but what was that?  Ur was a city-state in an alliance of other Sumerian city-states.  We have already seen that it was a thriving metropolis.  Besides that, it was thoroughly pagan.  Every city in the alliance had a ziggarut at its center, devoted to the pagan god it worshipped.  (All of this comes from the Holman Bible Atlas.)  Abraham grew up not only in a pagan culture, but also in a pagan family.
     And Joshua said to all the people, “Thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, ‘Long ago, your fathers lived beyond the Euphrates, Terah, the father of Abraham and of Nahor; and they served other gods (Josh 24:2).  The real wonder is that Abraham and Sarah came to have any faith in God at all.  Yet they did, which is a clear vindication of Paul's statement in Romans 1 that the pagans were "without excuse" in their failure to recognize God (Rom 1:18-22).  Somehow that couple believed and God got them out of that culture where He could carefully cultivate their faith over the last half of their lives.
     And so here is the lesson: in our society it has become the rule to blame our culture, our parents, our community, whatever else we can blame for our failure to live righteous, godly lives, or at least a law-abiding, productive life that recognizes a standard of goodness toward others.  Even people in the government are ready to excuse criminals "because they don't know better."  If they do not know better, it is their own fault.  At least that is what God says about it.  Anyone in any culture can pull themselves out of it and do right.  In fact, it you were to find people who did that and ask them about it, they would be the ones who most staunchly deny that how you are raised is an excuse that counts for anything at all.  Is it difficult to get yourself out of the mess you find yourself in?  Of course it is, but life is never easy.  When we teach our children that it should be, we are setting them up for failure every time.
     Even the people who came out of Ur with Abraham and Sarah never really lost their cultural baggage.  Laban had gone to shear his sheep, and Rachel stole her father's household gods (Gen 31:19).  But Joshua told their descendants, as they came to the Promised Land, that the choice was theirs—they were not bound by their raising.  And if it is evil in your eyes to serve the LORD, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers served in the region beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD (Josh 24:15).
     We always have a choice.  No one can take it away from us.  It may be difficult, but that has never constituted a valid excuse to God.  He wants us to serve Him.  He may have given Abraham and Sarah a little boost by removing them from their culture, but why can't we do exactly the same thing?  We can, if we truly want to.  No one is ever forcing us to do otherwise.

I have Your decrees as a heritage forever; indeed, they are the joy of my heart. I am resolved to obey Your statutes to the very end (Ps 119:111-112).

Dene Ward

     A few months ago I fell.  It was not an "old lady" fall; anyone else would have fallen under the same circumstances.  The x-rays showed no breaks, no cracks, no bone bruises, nor any other problem, but I landed hard on the side that seems to have had a lot of some of the worst arthritis out there.  We assumed it would heal in a couple of months and all would be well.  Here we are over five months later and not only has it not healed, it hasn't even improved. 
     Every morning it takes me about two hours to be able to walk through the house without holding on to furniture and countertops.  Then it takes an hour and a half of physical therapy exercises to be able to get through the day, not without pain, but without making noises when I move.  Often I need to stop halfway from the parking lot and the church house or doctor's office or grocery store and lean over for a while to make the pain bearable.  No longer does Keith wheel the grocery cart for me as I shop; instead, I hang onto it so I can make it through what used to be an enjoyable part of my routine.  It may not have been an "old lady" fall, but it has certainly turned me into an old lady almost overnight.
     I seldom sleep well any more.  I have found only one position I can lie in without considerable pain.  I start out that way and then, in the night, when I move the pain wakes me.  It takes a few minutes to get back into position and then wait out the pain until it settles down and I finally drift back to sleep.  It will happen again and again as the night wears on.  What ought to be an eight hour rest is seldom more than five or six.  Then, after a week of that, I will finally have a decent sleep just because I am so exhausted that I can sleep through the pain.
     On nights when that happens and I wake fairly well rested, my mind thinks all is well.  Then I try to stretch or roll over and suddenly I realize that nothing has changed.  The pain is still there.  It will never stop.  It is, in a word, relentless, and that is the worst part.  I have had worse pain, especially in my eyes—battery acid drops in an eye with a fresh incision or on a freshly abraded (scraped) cornea.  But at least that pain always stops eventually, the one after 10 or 15 minutes and the other after three or four days.  After all these years, I know that and can put up with it.  Nothing, however, has stopped this hip pain that radiates up and down my whole leg, and after trying so many things it appears that nothing will.
     Jesus spent a lot of words trying to describe Hell in a way that would horrify us.  He wants us to avoid that place at all cost and doesn't mind using some negative reinforcement.  Now I have found something that will motivate me like nothing else.  Eternity is difficult to describe too, but I think the Eternity of Hell is now easy for me to comprehend.  It is relentlessness.  Whatever you use as your picture—fire, pain, dark, all of those things and more—it will always be there, without a break, without even a moment's relief.  Now I understand the rich man in Jesus's parable—just a drop of water on my tongue, he asked for.  Just a few minutes without this relentless pain, I think.  But Hell has no tomorrow, just the ever-present Now that never ends.
     I tried to find an antonym for relentless, something positive that never ends.  Nothing really suited me, either in online dictionaries or Merriam-Webster.  Then I asked myself what would make this pain just a little more bearable, and came up with "hope."  You see, the doctor did make one suggestion that I tried and the pain actually went away for 5 days.  But there is one insurmountable problem.  That medication also worsens my eye problems.  Which would I rather have, no pain or eyesight?  I am sure you know the answer to that!  Even if I reach the point that I can no longer move at all, I still want to see—flowers, sunsets, rainbows, and all the beautiful faces of the ones I love.
     But we have come up with a compromise—I can take that medication for one week every four months.  That means that three weeks out of the year I will have no pain!  Do you know how marvelous that sounds after the last six months?  That sounds like "hope."  You better believe I am looking forward to that week and more than that, I know it will happen because we have already tried it once.  I trust that it will work again. 
     Hope is the thing that should carry you through your life, no matter how bad things get.  What did we expect anyway?  This world is cursed by sin and death and we brought it on ourselves.  But God gives us hope.  Our eternity does not have to be relentless.  Because God gives us the hope of the resurrection, we can look forward to relief from the pain and suffering we all live with.  No, hope is not "a thing with feathers."  It is a strong and heavy anchor that will keep us from drifting if we hang onto it with all our might.
 
So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek (Heb 6:17-20).

I’ve seen it all my life, everywhere I’ve ever been—a brand of false teaching that even the best of us participate in, that even the best of us fall prey to.
            Over and over we teach people to follow the examples of Herod and Herodias, of Ahab and Jezebel, of practically every evil king ever mentioned in the Bible.  We teach that example and we follow it ourselves.  The examples of Simon and David are left ignored, at least in that one area.  What am I talking about?  How to accept correction, how to appreciate the one who loves us enough to rebuke us or try to teach us better. 
            What did Simon the sorcerer say when Peter rebuked him? “Pray for me that none of the things that you have spoken may come upon me.”  Simon was only interested in being right before God, not in saving face or somehow turning the rebuke back on Peter because he was so angry or hurt by it.
            What did David say when Nathan stung him with the simple words “Thou art the man,” and followed it with a horrifying list of punishments, including the death of a child?  “I have sinned against the Lord.” And what did he do later?  He named a son after Nathan (1 Chron 3:5).  Every time he saw that child for the rest of his life, he was reminded of his namesake, the man who rebuked him and prophesied such devastating punishment.  All you have to do is read his penitent psalms to understand David’s attitude.  He was grateful to Nathan, not angry; heartbroken over his sin and joyful that God would even consider forgiving him.
            Simon and David set the bar high for us, a brand new Gentile convert and a king who could have lopped off his accuser’s head at a word. Yet how often are we counseled to follow their examples?  Instead, we are coddled by people who blame the rebuker for being so hard.  Never have I heard anyone say the kinds of things that Peter and Nathan said.  “Your money perish with you.”  “You are in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity.”  “Your heart is not right before God.”  “You have despised the word of God.” 
            What examples do we teach instead?  We may not throw people into prison for their words as Ahab and Herod did, but we isolate them from others by spreading tales of “how mean they were to me,” allowing their name and reputation to be chewed up in the rumor mills.  We may not have them murdered as Herodias and Jezebel did, but we do a fine job of character assassination.  We follow faithfully in their evil steps and teach others to do the same when we pat them on the back and agree with their assessment of the one who dared tell them they were wrong.  In other words, we do it out of “love.”  I imagine Herod said the same as he turned the prison key on John, and then signed off on the death warrant.
            Why is this example of how to accept correction so neglected?  Why do we reinforce the examples of evil people instead?  Is it because someday it might be us receiving that rebuke?  Someday it might be our turn to feel the hot embarrassment spreading like a fire across our faces and the acid churning in our stomachs? 
            God meant us to love each other in exactly this way.  Brethren, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, looking to yourself lest you also be tempted, Gal 6:1.  We all take turns at this.  We all need it.  And I have an important piece of information for you, one that should be obvious but apparently is not:  it never feels “gentle” when you are on the receiving end.  I have knocked myself out prefacing correction with “I love you” statements, with praise for the good in a person’s life, only to have to endure a cold shoulder for weeks or months or even years, only to hear later from others how “mean” I was.  I have also felt that sting of conscience when it was my turn to listen, and even when I knew the person speaking loved me.  But the good God meant to come from these things will be completely lost if all we do is tell the erring brother or sister that it’s just fine to be like Herod and Herodias.
            So you think this isn’t false doctrine?  Then tell me what it is to teach others to be like evil men and women.  Whatever you come up with, it still isn’t right.
 
My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. James 5:19-20.
 
Dene Ward