Uh-huh.  Sure.  I have heard that way too many times in the last few weeks.  As much as I like and trust my doctor, he might as well ditch that line.  I automatically cringe when I hear it.  What follows almost invariably does hurt, at least “a bit,” and often more.

What would you expect when they insert six inch sticks halfway into the top of your eye socket and mash all along the top of your eyeball trying to reposition things inside your eye?  Or when they insert a syringe into the front of your eye and pump in a gel that makes eye pressure increase by 50% in just a second or two?  Or when they put a needle deep into your eye to ream out a blocked shunt?  Or when they laser an eye the size of a marble over 300 times, leaving black burn marks that last for years?  And all of this happens while you are awake, with only a couple of numbing drops to deaden the surface of your eye, which also has a fresh surgery incision, and a raw cornea the resident describes as “road rash of the eye.”

Sometimes I would like to watch my doctors undergo all of these things, then tell me it doesn’t hurt, not even “a bit.”  I think every patient going through any sort of procedure has those daydreams, especially when they hear, “This won’t hurt a bit.”

And isn’t that why our Savior and High Priest is so precious to us?  He does know that life can hurt, that Satan is a frighteningly strong power, that it is not easy to endure this world’s sorrows.  


Since then the children are sharers in flesh and blood, he also himself in like manner partook of the same, that through death he might bring to naught him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and might deliver all them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.  For truly not to angels does he give help, but he gives help to the seed of Abraham.  Wherefore it behooved him in all things to be made like unto his brethren that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.  For in that he himself has suffered being tempted, he is able to succor those that are tempted, Heb 2:14-18.

So when He says it won’t hurt, we know it won’t.  When He says we can overcome, we know we can.  When He says the struggle is worth it, we know it is.  Not only has He been through it Himself, but He will go through it again with us. 

            Hallelujah!  What a Savior!


For we have not a high priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but one who has been in all points tempted like we are, yet without sin.  Let us therefore draw near with boldness to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy, and may find grace to help us in time of need.  Heb 4:15,16

Dene Ward

We had our first opportunity for an overnight with Silas a few months ago.  It was better than a trip to Disneyworld, better than a vacation in an exotic place, better than dinner in a five star restaurant, better than just about anything you could possibly think of.  Do I sound like a doting grandmother yet?

When he woke the next morning, he remembered that it was the two of us who put him in the crib the night before and he called out, “Granddad!  Grandma!”  And there was that smiling face and those big blue eyes under a head full of tousled blond curls. 

My one concern that weekend was understanding what he was saying.  He has been talking since he was one, but sometimes in a language we can’t quite figure out.  It sounds for all the world like a real tongue.  It comes complete with hand motions and facial expressions and he is quite fluent in it.  Unfortunately, we aren’t.

The last year he has gained more English and less of his personal argot.  For two years old, as he was then, he had quite a vocabulary.  We were looking at a book about shapes, and he pointed to one and said, “That’s an oval.”  I hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of that when he added, “And that’s a rhombus.”  I quickly flipped through my own mental file card, trying to remember that one from high school math classes. 

That morning after we got him out of bed, he turned to me and said, “Can I have bussenwuddy?”

I was stumped.  Maybe I didn’t hear right, I thought.  So I asked, “Bussenwuddy?”

His little eyes brightened and he started jumping in my lap.  “Yes, yes!  Bussenwuddy!”

Okay, now what?  Bussenwuddy...  I flipped through those file cards in my mind once again.  What have I heard him talking about that sounds like bussenwuddy?

Finally it came to me.  “Buzz and Woody?” 

Another excited little bounce.  “Yes, yes!  Bussenwuddy.  Can I?”  He wanted to watch the Toy Story DVD.  I felt like a successful grandmother--I had figured out what my two year old grandchild wanted.  Do you think anyone but a grandparent would have tried so hard?

God is trying to talk to us every day.  He has put it down in black and white.  All we have to do is pick it up and read it.  Some of us won’t even be bothered with that.  Then there are the ones that will pick it up, but then put it back down in frustration.  “I can’t understand this.”  Well, how hard are you willing to try?

I have had women leave my classes because “They’re too much work.”  Keith has had people complain about his classes because, “They’re too deep.”  Really?  I would be embarrassed to say such a thing if I had been a Christian for two decades or more. 

Don’t I care enough about my Father in Heaven to put a little effort into it?  It isn’t that He expects us all to be scholars, who love to put our noses in books for hours on end.  But He does expect us to care enough to spend a little time at it.  He expects us to be willing to push ourselves some. 

No, it isn’t all as simple as, “Do this,” or “Do that.”  Sometimes He throws a bussenwuddy in there (Matt 13:10-13; 2 Pet 3:16).  But if you really care about communicating with your Father, if talking to Him really excites you, if He is the most important thing in your life, then you will exercise that file card memory of yours and flip through it occasionally, striving (a word that denotes effort, by the way) to learn what He expects of you. 

You don’t have to be a genius with a photographic memory, but you do have to love your Father enough to be willing to work at building a relationship with Him.  Pick up your Bible today, and show Him how much He means to you.

And he said to me, "Son of man, go to the house of Israel and speak with my words to them. For you are not sent to a people of foreign speech and a hard language, but to the house of Israel-- not to many peoples of foreign speech and a hard language, whose words you cannot understand. Surely, if I sent you to such, they would listen to you. But the house of Israel will not be willing to listen to you, for they are not willing to listen to me: because all the house of Israel have a hard forehead and a stubborn heart.

Ezekiel 3:4-7

Dene Ward

 

I do not mean to leave you discouraged, so let me share some success stories with you.  After all these years, we have a few, and I do believe God meant us to share them (Acts 14:27) with one another. 

I remember a lot of baptisms.  Keith has baptized in swimming pools, sunken bathtubs, and ponds.  I remember standing right at the shore, cold water lapping at my feet on a chilly January night as a young woman came up out of the water with him, and wrapping her in blankets as quickly as I could.  I remember him coming home one night, sticking his legs out of the truck door to show me the damp hems because a Bible study had resulted in the birth of a babe in Christ.  I remember the night we stood on the edge of a swamp, bullfrogs croaking a bass chorus and headlights shining over the weedy waters, as he baptized a young man he had studied with for several weeks.  I believe it was May and I remember thinking, surely God will keep the snakes at bay tonight!

I remember some neighbors up the street in another state, who had started coming to services, and her to our women’s class, and who wanted so badly to be baptized one Sunday morning, they wouldn’t even change into robes.  “We came in these clothes, and these clothes are going down with us, right now!” the man said.  I think we did persuade him to remove his wallet and take off his shoes.

I remember another young man who faithfully completed the correspondence course, asking good questions along the way, and then sent back his final lesson with the note, “I’m ready to be baptized.”  He attended faithfully until he moved away.  I remember another young man whose commitment was restored after a long talk, who brought his wife to us, and has gone on to begin a church in an area where there was none, still faithful after thirty years

God sends you other encouragements if you just pay attention.  One neighbor had seen us leave every Sunday morning, and when suddenly she had custody of her three grandchildren, she called, wanting us to take them to church with us.  We certainly would have loved to have her as well, but we didn’t look down on the opportunity.  For two years those children were dressed and waiting every Sunday morning at 8:00.  I have no idea if that has borne fruit, but I do know this—when the woman died, her children asked Keith to speak at her memorial.  Something had been planted and it did have some effect.  That’s all God asked us to do. Perhaps you would like to share a few stories of your own below to encourage others.

Sowing the seed is not a part-time job.  For a Christian, it’s a career.  Get on with it.  No one will be judged by the results.  Just remember that every person you come across is a potential field and everything you do can affect the results of your planting.  That is what you will be judged on, not the number of splashes.

God wants sowers.  He wants waterers, and, we hope, plenty of harvesters.  The seed will yield its crop, but don’t get so busy counting ears of corn that you forget to plant the next row.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:10-11

Dene Ward

I have nearly lost count of the number of eye surgeries I have had.  After each one, it takes awhile to get back into the swing of things.  One of my regular activities is walking and after an eye surgery, the challenge is to see where I am going.  I use an old rake handle as a walking stick to steady myself when I stumble.

My 6 year old red heeler, a type of Australian cattle dog, has figured out that I have some sort of a problem, and she has become my “protector.”  When our neighbor to the west came down a few weeks ago with his brush-hog to mow the majority of our 5 acres, I was out walking.  Magdi usually walks the first lap of six on my 1/2 mile plus loop, scares up all the critters—especially the snakes—then sits in the shade, watching, while I finish.  That day, she stayed with me for the entire walk, and any time I got within 100 feet of the tractor, she went after that mower with a vengeance.  We were afraid she would get hurt, so I altered my walk to stay on one side of the property and the neighbor worked the other half until I finished.  Then my canine bodyguard retreated under the porch till the next time I came outside.

One Saturday, I was walking while Keith used the little rider on the acre we keep mown around the house.  Every time our paths started to intersect, she would charge across the field from wherever she happened to be, cut between us, and bark and nip at his wheels, even though she is scared to death of the mower, and runs from it otherwise.  (I wonder if she thinks it has already eaten Keith.) 

Today, another neighbor was using his brush-hog on his side of the south fence, and we passed one another three or four times along the fence while I walked.  Magdi headed for him every time we got close and barked and jumped at the fence until I was safely by.   Then she followed after me, and stayed at my heels until the next lap brought us back to the fence, where she repeated her performance.  Once he lifted the front bucket right at her, and she slowly rose on her hind legs, barking even louder, till he put it back down.  The way my forty pound red-headed protector takes such good care of me warms my heart, especially since she is so afraid herself of those vicious green monsters that inhabit our fields and woods!  I don’t know how she knows that I am not quite up to par, but she is making it her business to watch out for me.

As heartwarming as all that may be, it is nothing compared to the assurance I have that my Heavenly Father looks out for me.  The evidence I have in the past few years alone is amazing, but all I have to do is open His Word to see the most astonishing care of all—He gave His Son for my soul.

For I am persuaded that neither death, not life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.   Rom 8:38, 39.

Dene Ward

I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase, 1 Cor 3:6. 

We should probably talk some more about that discouragement issue because it never goes away.  You teach and teach and teach; you invite at every opportunity that comes along; you serve and reach out, and yet it seems like nothing comes of it.  If you aren’t careful, you stop trying.  It isn’t doing any good, is it?  That is not for us to say. 

I told you before of the young woman I tried to reach so long ago.  Just because I have no contact with her now, doesn’t mean nothing came of it.  I remember having discussions during free periods in high school.  I took friends to Bible study with me.  I wrote essays in English class that I knew would be passed around the class for comment.  I have never seen anything come from any of that, but as Keith often says, I don’t need to be whittling on God’s end of the stick.  He is the one who gives the increase.  When I start meddling in His affairs, I become disheartened.  If I stick with my own end, I will stay too busy to worry about the results.

I suppose my biggest dose of discouragement came a couple of years ago.  Some new neighbors had moved in a few years before and she and became friends.  I easily recruited her to a local community service club, but anything religiously oriented was a different story.  So I invited her to a coffee at my home where she met some of my church family.  So far, so good.  I invited her to our women’s Bible study, and immediately she distanced herself.  Too much too soon, I thought, so I had a church friend whose decorating ability she had shown interest in, invite her to lunch at her home, along with another church sister.  An instant yes, but then as the day approached my neighbor suddenly developed something else she had to do.

So I backed off again.  I still mentioned the church to her as often as possible, telling her how wonderful they were.  I made sure she knew about all the help I received after all the surgeries, and she was genuinely impressed so I invited again, including a written invitation.  Still nothing. 

Then one day, her husband called to tell me she had died without warning.  No one even knew she had been sick.  In fact, we had talked on the phone just three days before.  It was like a kick in the stomach.  I do not believe I have ever felt quite so discouraged in my sowing duties.

That is exactly what the enemy wants, and that is exactly why you need to stop worrying about God’s end of the stick.  When the depression is accompanied by grief it is especially debilitating.  All you need to remember is this:  Just. Keep. Sowing! 

Since that time I have suddenly had more opportunities to speak to people.  God is encouraging me, I thought, so I have tried to do my part as well.  I am anything but the Great Evangelist, but here are a few things I have tried.  Perhaps you could add a few more tips at the bottom.

When I have the car maintenance done, I purposely make the appointment right before ladies’ Bible class so I can use the shuttle service to the class if it is available.  You would be surprised how many drivers want to know what I will be teaching, and then ask about the church.  I have even managed to give out a few tracts.

When I buy my groceries I do it before Bible class and then have the bagger put the cold things into my cooler.  “I have to teach a Bible class before I go home,” I explain, and that has led to conversations too.

I carry my Bible and my notebook to doctor’s appointments and write these little essays there.  As many appointments as I have, surely someone will be interested some day.  Even the cleaning lady recognizes me now.

I have no idea if any of these things or others I do will bear fruit, but I do “consider him faithful who has promised,” Heb 11:11, and He promised to see to the growth of the seed if I just sow it.

Don’t become depressed when you don’t see results from your work.  That part is none of your business.  Just keep sowing the seed.  You do your part, and He will do His.

What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. He who plants and he who waters are one, and each will receive his wages according to his labor. 1 Corinthians 3:5-8.

Dene Ward

Last spring we watched a hawk couple build a nest right over our garden.  Every day we were out planting and watering, they were carrying twigs trailing Spanish moss up to the lowest fork, thirty feet up the pine tree just east of the plowed plot of dirt we work all summer.  By the time our plants were poking up through the dirt, the mother was sitting on the nest.  She sat so low and blended in so well, it took a pair of binoculars and a steady hand to see her at all.  The father faithfully brought her food every evening, and would often sit on the branch next to the nest as she sat on her eggs. 

About four weeks later, I saw the mother hop off the nest one morning and a day or so after heard tiny cheeps as I stood under the tree.  In a few days, a white downy head appeared, and soon another one.  The next three weeks we watched as the parents brought them food, kept them warm, and at times sat on the rowdy babies so they would not fall out of the tree!  Soon both babies were sitting up in the nest, at times peering over at me while I picked, hoed, watered, and all the other chores involved in gardening.  They were getting so big it took both parents to bring enough food, and their white down was turning brown.

And then one morning, one of them was gone.  At first it did not go far.  It sat in the trees across the fence from the nest-tree.  It was bigger, but had more muted coloring, so we assumed it was a female, and big sister would call out to her little brother all through the day, telling him he could fly too, or so I anthropomorphically presumed.  Then big sister and parents were gone most of the day, mom and dad teaching the first one how to hunt, and only coming back in the evenings to feed the smaller one in the nest, who always greeted them with the most pitiful little squeaks of happiness. 

He seemed so lonely I started talking to him every morning when I was out, and he usually sat up, cocked his head back and forth, and peered over the edge of the nest at me, until I went inside.  I assumed he would be flying in a day or so, but no, after a week, he was still there.  He often flapped his wings, big, strong wings I knew could carry him easily, but he seemed afraid.  In fact, one morning he hopped out of the nest onto the limb and lost his balance.  It was funny to see him wave his wings like a human waving his arms in circles, trying to catch his balance—and he did, and hopped back in that nest as quickly as he could.

Then about ten days after his big sister flew, I went out to the garden and the nest was empty.  I felt like his mother, not knowing whether to cheer or cry.  I was sure he was gone forever.  Then suddenly I heard him, and there he sat in the same tree, but fifteen feet higher!  He stayed there the whole time I was out in the garden, but in the evening he was gone. 

The next morning, I walked my path and heard him again.  High in the air he circled over me then settled on a limb only 7 or 8 feet off the ground, and directly across the fence from where I stood, calling to me.  As soon as I reached that point in my walk and started talking, he hushed and sat there cocking his head again, until I told him it had been nice talking with him, but I really needed to finish my walk and today’s garden work.  He called awhile longer while I walked, sometimes changing trees to be nearby, but eventually flew off. 

Every day that summer he would come back in the mornings and find a tree near me so we could talk awhile.  He eventually figured out where I disappeared and once landed on the roof of the porch where we could see him and he could see us through the window while we ate.  Then things happened.  I had some surgeries, some complications, and for a few weeks was unable to walk.  He disappeared and winter came.  Now I knew he was gone for good.

Late in January I heard him outside one morning.  Yes, when you have heard one hawk often enough, you can actually tell him apart from the others.  I ran outside and called out to him.  He stopped and listened, then flew away.  It had been long enough, I suppose, that his natural fear of man had taken over, but it was still a nice moment in the day.  But ever since that day, if I am late getting outside to walk, I hear him calling from high in the sky, and he flies overhead for most of the time I am walking.  He will not let me get close, but he will land in trees close to the house to call at least, until I come outside.

I think God allows natural things to happen when we need them—things that encourage us, that help us overcome a temptation or get past a bad moment in the day; brethren we see in our day in unusual places, paths that cross when they can most help one another.  I am a long way out and not likely to have those sorts of things, but maybe God has sent me this hawk.  I know he reminds me of one of my favorite passages in the Bible—even though he is a hawk and not an eagle.  But we will never get the benefit of those providential things if we are not paying attention. 

So be aware today of the things that happen, the people you see, and the thoughts that cross your mind—maybe even that hymn that goes round and round in your head like a broken record.  Maybe it was Heaven sent.

They that wait on Jehovah shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint.  Isa 40:31 

Dene Ward

A long time ago a young woman I had met in the small town where we lived, asked me for some advice.  Her marriage was suffering and she didn’t know what to do. 

I was too young for her to be asking me, but she had found out I was “a preacher’s wife,” and thought that automatically made me a font of wisdom.  When she finally asked her question, my answer came easily (and with a sigh of relief).  The problem was a perfect fit for a scripture in Corinthians and I simply had her read what the inspired apostle said about it.  I didn’t have to say a word.

Her mouth hung open in shock.  “That’s the answer,” she said.  “But why haven’t my own church leaders been able to show me this verse?”  It was not a difficult passage to find.  Anyone who has grown up attending Bible classes in the church would know where to find it. 

The fact that men who called themselves her spiritual leaders could not help her with the same passage gave me an opening, and we began a Bible study that lasted several weeks.  I was far too idealistic.  I thought when people saw it in black and white, they would instantly change, and that left me wide open for hurt and discouragement.  We finally reached a point where her conscience was pricked and she was floundering about, wondering what to do. 

“Would you come again next week and talk to my church leaders too?” she asked, and what could twenty-two year old me say, but “Of course, if you don’t mind if my husband comes with me.”  She agreed enthusiastically.

All of us met the next Tuesday evening at her home, me with all sorts of great expectations, and an hour long discussion ensued.  To make a long story short, they simply told us that they had more faith than we did because they would accept a piece of literature as inspired which contained neither internal nor external evidences, the kind of evidences that make the Bible obviously true.  I was flabbergasted, and learned my first lesson—some people will believe what they want to believe, not what is reasonable to believe.

The next week I went to her home on Tuesday morning for our usual study.  She met me at the door and, with tears in her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry.  They told me I can’t study with you any more.”

“But don’t you want to?  I helped you when they couldn’t.” 

“I know,” she said.  “But they are my leaders, and I have to obey them.”

Talk about discouraging.  What do you do when someone who is good-hearted and clearly sees the truth allows herself to be taken in by people who obviously cannot—or will not--even help her with her problems?  It isn’t just the stubborn and willful who reject the word of God, another new lesson for me to learn.  In fact, it takes strength of will to accept it when it means you must stand against friends and family, and when your life will experience an instant upheaval. 

So here is the main lesson today:  Be careful whom you trust.  Be careful whom you allow to direct your path, and have the gumption to take responsibility for your own soul.  If someone who wanted the truth could allow it to slip through her fingers so easily at the word of people who were never there for her until it became obvious their numbers might go down, it could happen to you too.  The religious leaders in Jesus’ day looked down on the people with scorn (John 7:49), yet those very people followed them right down the road to Calvary, berating a man who had stood up for them more than once to those same leaders, pushing him to his crucifixion. 

And here is another lesson:  don’t let your idealism make you vulnerable to discouragement.  I will always remember that young woman.  We moved far away not long afterward. As far as I know she stayed where she was religiously, and never found her way out of it.  But I do have this hope—I planted a seed.  God is the one who sees to the increase, 1 Cor 3:6.  Don’t ever in your mind deny God the power to make that seed grow.  I am not as idealistic as I used to be, but I still hope that someday I will meet her again, standing among the sheep.

But false prophets also arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you, who will secretly bring in destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them, bringing upon themselves swift destruction. And many will follow their sensuality, and because of them the way of truth will be blasphemed. And in their greed they will exploit you with false words. Their condemnation from long ago is not idle, and their destruction is not asleep. 2 Peter 2:1-3

Dene Ward

We eat a lot of soup.  It’s cheap, filling, and healthy.  Even a 400 calorie bowlful is a good meal, and most are far less fattening.  You won’t get tired of it because of the nearly infinite variety. 

We have had ham and bean soup, navy bean soup, and white bean and rosemary soup.  We’ve had cream of potato soup, baked potato soup, and loaded baked potato soup.  I’ve made bouillabaisse, chicken tortilla, pasta Fagioli, and egg drop soups.  For more special occasions I have prepared shrimp bisque, French onion, and vichyssoise.  We’ve warmed our bones with gumbo, mulligatawny, and clam chowder.  I’ve made practically every vegetable soup there is including broccoli cheese soup, roasted tomato soup, and lentil soup.  And if you want just plain soup, I have even made chicken noodle.  You can have soup every week for a year and not eat the same one twice.

Not only is it cheap to make, it’s usually cheap to buy.  Often the lowest priced item on a menu is a cup of soup.  I can remember it less than a dollar in my lifetime.  Even now it’s seldom over $3.50.  So why in the world would I ever exchange a bowl of soup for something valuable?

By now your mind should have flashed back to Jacob and Esau.  Jacob must have been some cook.  I have seen the soup he made that day described as everything from lentils to kidney beans to meat stew.  It doesn’t really matter.  It was a simple homespun dish, not even a gourmet concoction of some kind.

Usually people focus on Jacob, tsk-tsk-ing about his conniving and manipulation, but think about Esau today.  Yes, he was tired and hungry after a day’s hunt, but was he really going to starve?  I’ve had my men come in from a day of chopping wood and say, “I could eat a horse,” but not only did I not feed them one, they would not have eaten it if I had.  “I’m starving,” is seldom literal.

The Bible makes Esau’s attitude plain.  After selling his birthright—his double inheritance—for a bowl of soup, Moses writes, Thus Esau despised his birthright, Gen 25:34.  If that inheritance had the proper meaning to him, it would have taken far more than any sort of meal to get it away from him.  As it was, that was one expensive bowl of soup!

The Hebrew writer uses another word for Esau—profane--a profane person such as Esau, who for one mess of meat sold his own birthright, Heb 12:16.  That word means “unholy.”  It means things pertaining to fleshly existence as opposed to spiritual, things relevant to men rather than God.  It is the exact opposite of “sacred” and “sanctified.”  Jacob understood the value of the birthright, and he also understood his brother’s carnal nature.  He had him pegged.  So did God.

What important things are we selling for a mess of pottage?  Have you sold your family for the sake of a career?  Have you sold your integrity for the sake of wealth?  Have you sold your marriage for the sake of a few “I told you so’s?”  Have you sold your place in the body of Christ for a few opinions?  Have you sold your soul for the pleasure you can have here and now?

Examine your life today, the things you have settled for instead of sacrificing for, the things you have given up and the things you gave them up for.  Have you made some really bad deals?  Can you even recognize the true value of what you have lost?  Don’t despise the blessings God has given you.  Don’t sell your family, or your character, or your soul for a bowl of soup.

Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us. For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, Phil 3:17-20.

Dene Ward

I live in rural north central Florida.  Snakes are a fact of life.  Poisonous snakes are a big fact of life.  You learn to take precautions, but even then, if you have not seen one in awhile, you become careless.  Last summer we were reminded of where we live.

One morning I was walking the mown path around our property, as I do every day, six laps for 3 ½ miles.  Suddenly the weeds to the left of me buzzed.  If you have ever heard a rattlesnake in person, you know it does not sound exactly like the ones on TV.  It sounds like an angry June bug, a really big, really angry June bug.  I leapt sideways about 10 feet—in fact, if sideways leaping were an Olympic event, I would have won the gold medal that day. 

We never found that one, but not ten days later, the dog alerted us to one in the yard, which Keith shot.  Four days later, she found a cottonmouth which escaped her by flattening itself enough to get under the house.  Keith had to crawl under there with a flashlight and a pistol for that one.  A week later another rattler in the yard met him as he returned from the neighbor’s.  Four days later a black racer crossed my running path about thirty feet ahead.  Two days after that a coachwhip met me at the fence behind the old pigpen when I walked.  This was beginning to get eerie.  We had never had this many snakes in this short a time, not even the first summer we set up house in this old watermelon field in the piney woods, half a mile off the highway. 

Five days later I was folding clothes in the family room and happened to look out the window right next to me.  Not five feet from my face, a racer was winding itself up around the TV tower.  No, racers are not poisonous.  Yes, it was outside and I was inside with not one, but two, glass panes between me and it.  But something about that one sent chills up my spine.  It was almost more than I could do to go outside that day at all.  Somehow I expected to see dozens of snakes slithering up the porch steps and clinging to the screen just waiting to strike when I opened the back door. 

But when it was time to walk, I took a deep breath, got the .22 rifle loaded with number 12 shot, leaned it against the tree and set off, with my trusty canine bodyguards bounding up ahead of me to sniff out the critters and, more important, scare away the snakes.  Still, I was a lot more alert than usual. 

This was a good spiritual reminder as well.  We live in a stable society.  No natives on the warpath.  No marauders on the borders.  No wars fought on our home ground.  Have we forgotten to be careful?  There is still an enemy out there who is REAL, and he will kill our souls if we are not alert.  Are we to be so afraid that we shut ourselves away from the world?  No, for how could our lights shine and our faith be told?  But being cautious never hurt anyone. 

When you go out there today, pay attention, stay safe, and when you see the lion, who at least once has masqueraded as a serpent, either shoot him down right there or run!

Be sober, be watchful, your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walks about seeking whom he may devour; withstand him, steadfast in your faith, knowing that the same sufferings are accomplished in your brothers who are in the world.  And the God of all grace, who called you unto His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, shall Himself perfect, establish and strengthen you.  1 Pet 5:7-10

Dene Ward

When I was teaching piano and voice, my students often participated in an evaluation day at the university with judges rating their performances—superior, excellent, very good, good, and fair.  When I was a child I participated in the same event and the words given as ratings were exactly what they said they were.  Even a “very good” was very good. 

By the time my students participated we were well into the philosophy of promoting self-esteem by never telling a child he was wrong about anything.  The vast majority of the 1000 entrants received a superior, which simply meant he didn’t play or sing more than one or two wrong notes.  It had nothing to do with his musicianship or his artistry.  If a judge handed out more excellents than superiors, he was taken aside and enlightened.  As a result only a small handful of “very goods” ever hit the rating sheet, and news of a “good” spread like the plague, with exactly the same reception.  Everyone knew that a “very good” wasn’t, and a “good” was just plain awful.  Judges were actually forbidden to even look at the “fair” rating, much less circle it.

That sort of philosophy may be why “good” means little to us these days.  It is probably why we just read right over it when Luke calls Joseph of Arimathea and Barnabas “good” men.  Luke did not use that term lightly; those were the only two times I found that particular Greek word used of a man. 

So can we ever hope to become so good that term can be used of us, the same term that Jesus used of God?  Only if, like God, that goodness becomes an intrinsic part of us, a goodness that exists no matter what happens on the outside, no matter what anyone else says or does. 

Jesus seemed to expect it.  You brood of vipers! How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The good person out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure brings forth evil. Matthew 12:34-35.  There is the word, agathos.  A good person can only do good things if his heart is good, so if I am not doing them, something in my heart needs to be changed.

“But that’s just not who I am,” won’t cut it with the Lord.  He expects us to change who we are.  He expects us to turn that evil heart into a good one, one that is good the way God is good, simply by its nature.  But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Luke 6:35.  There it is again, that same word, or a compound of it in this case, a “do-gooder.”  If you want to be a child of God, that’s what you have to be.

Jesus makes it even plainer a little later.  Becoming “good” is not an option. It is not something we can do on the outside, while harboring a heart of evil or malice towards others.  It is not something we can do by rote without compassion.  It is the thing that will determine our destiny.  Well done, good and faithful servant.  Enter into the joy of your lord, Matt 25:21. 

“Good” is a very special word in the Bible.  It isn’t passed out profligately so we can keep our self-esteem intact.  It isn’t bandied about simply because of good deeds or loud hallelujahs.  It is a quality so deep that if one ceases to exist in this life, so does that much goodness in the world.  “Only one is Good,” Jesus said, in the absolute sense.  That doesn’t mean he doesn’t expect us to become good as much as is humanly, with a little help from God, possible.

And let us not grow weary of well doing, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith. Galatians 6:9-10

Dene Ward