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

We had just returned from a long camping weekend. We started camping only after I discovered tents that were completely self-enclosed.  Even the floor was sewn into the walls and ceiling.  Nothing could get in there but us!  For a city girl this was very important.  Our first tent was a hexagonal dome.  It was put out by a company called Camel, and the brown tent did look a little something like a camel’s hump.

            Most of the time, we would pack up to come home from a camping trip with the tent still wet from the morning’s dew.  That meant we had to set it up out in the sunny field once we got home to let it dry out.  We never bothered to stake it since it usually dried in under a half hour.  As it dried, one of us crawled inside with the portable vacuum to get all the dirt out as well.  My younger son Nathan was enjoying that chore once while I hung out sleeping bags and tarps to dry and air out.  A little breeze came up and suddenly I heard this little voice saying, “What’s going on?  Hey!  HELP!!!”  I looked up in time to see that self-contained, flat bottomed dome, rolling on its sides across the field in the wind, with my little boy evidently tumbling around inside—and from the sounds of it, not nearly as gracefully as a hamster on its wheel.

            Nathan blossomed late.  At that time he was about 11, still under 100 pounds, and only about 4 and a half feet tall.  Add to that the fact that the tent was not grounded with stakes, and you had someone ready to be easily tossed around in the wind.

            I cannot think of any better reminder to ground myself in the doctrine of Christ.  Too many people out there are willing to expound in beautiful moving words that sound good but which could easily upset my faith.  Too many times I rely on what I have always known, or on some brother I respect to tell me what to believe.  I sit in Bible classes sometimes and shake my head.  Whenever a certain topic comes up, I can almost always tell you who will say what, because few have bothered to look at things from a new perspective, to dig a little deeper, to ask questions, to even think it is all right to ask a question without being looked at skeptically.  Too many times I have visited women’s classes in other places and looked at the cotton candy lesson being studied, wondering if these empty calories are doing anyone’s soul any good at all.  We call them classes because we are supposed to study deeply and learn new things, not splash around in the shallow end of the pool with the children, trying not to get our hair wet.

            The only way to avoid confusion is to ask questions; the only way to grow—and we should all be growing, no matter how long we have been Christians--is to search the scriptures diligently; the only way to build a solid foundation is to learn how to study on my own; the only way to remain steadfast is to gain enough spiritual weight to stake down my tabernacle with stakes I have discovered myself, and hammered deeply into the ground.

Till we all attain unto the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a full-grown man, unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ; that we may be no longer children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the slight of men, in craftiness, after the wiles of error, but speaking truth in love, may grow up in all things into him, who is the head, even Christ. Eph 4:13-15.

Dene Ward

I imagine many of us grew up using that phrase in the first prayer we ever uttered at the table.  Maybe that is why we are so prone to say, “God is good,” and indeed He is.  We will shout it to the world.  When?  When we get exactly what we want.  When what we pray for comes to pass.  When life is easy and carefree and comfortable.  And that means we have absolutely no understanding of the goodness of God.  We are, in fact, showing ourselves to be those same immature little children uttering a memorized grace. 

Jesus said in Mark 10:18.  Why do you call me good?  There is none good except God alone.  That Greek word is agathos.  I am not a Greek scholar and at this age, never will be, but I can tell when one Greek word is used and when another is simply by looking at the letters.  Here is the difference in this one.  God is good whether I get what I want or not.  God is good whether life is easy or not.  God is good even in the midst of storms and trials and disease and pain.  The goodness of God never changes because it is intrinsic to His nature.  That’s what that word means.  Nothing on the outside of Him affects that goodness.  It always is because it is part of who He is.  God is good because He is God.

We too often mean a different Greek word when we shout, “God is good.”  Kalos means something is good only when it is beautiful, valuable, or useful to the person judging it so.  It is an extrinsic quality, affected by circumstances on the outside of it.  Thus a person would cease to be “good” in another’s judgment if he became disabled or too ill to work, or if she were no longer beautiful due to age.  If the only time I utter the phrase, “God is good,” is when my prayers are answered in a positive way, then that is exactly what I am saying about God.  If I were a first century Greek, I would be calling him kalos instead of agathos.  He is only good when He is useful to me, just like children who “love” their parents when a wish is fulfilled, but say, “You’re so mean,” when they get a “No.” 

So how do we feel about God?  Do we understand that He is good simply because He is, or do we feel the right to judge His goodness based on our own desires?  The real test of my understanding of the nature of God comes when, in the wake of disaster, I can say along with Job, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord” (1:21).

Moses said, "Please show me your glory." And he said, "I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name 'The LORD.' And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy…The LORD passed before him and proclaimed, "The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children's children, to the third and the fourth generation." And Moses quickly bowed his head toward the earth and worshiped. Ex 33:18,19; 34:6-8.

Dene Ward

Due to my congenital eye problems, I grew up reading in my room instead of playing outside with the other kids. That may sound odd—reading when one has an eye problem—but, you see, reading was safe. As long as I had my coke bottle glasses I could sink back into my imagination and see the world. Whenever I tried to play with the other children, I always tripped over something I did not see, fell and skinned my knees, or got hit in the face with whatever ball we were playing with at the time because I could not see it coming, sometimes breaking those expensive glasses.

Then I married a man, and had two boys. Here I was with a house full of men and had absolutely no experience either playing sports or watching them. Well—I tried to watch football once when I was about 10. It looked to me like two bunches of men who every minute or so ran into each other and fell down. I did enough of that myself, and could not see the attraction at all.

But I wanted a close relationship with my family, so I started sitting with them on Saturday afternoons, watching what they watched—football and basketball. Although I still do not have any idea what a “pick and roll” is, or why in the world they call a guy a tackle and then forbid him to do exactly that, I can now identify a naked bootleg and tell when a charge is not a charge, but a blocking foul. The boys got a big kick out of teaching these things to Mom.

I went to that trouble because I cared about my family relationships. Do I care for my neighbors as well? Or have I bought into the egocentric American notion that the world should operate on my schedule and according to my desires, and no one else has any legitimate problems, or any other rationale for what they do other than to aggravate me and get in my way?

Will I ask the man next door about his golf game, while studiously avoiding the old joke about golf being “a good walk ruined?” When I meet the lady across the street at the mailbox, will I ask to see her latest crocheted creation, even though I don’t know the name of a single stitch, and can barely sew a straight line on a machine? If I want to develop the kind of relationships that will become closer and deeper, and perhaps eventually lead them to the Lord, I hope I will. These things may seem insignificant, but they pave the way for things that are anything but.

          What lives will you and I try to touch today?

For though I was free from all men, I brought myself under bondage to all, that I might gain the more. And to the Jews I became as a Jew that I might gain Jews; to them that were under the law, as under the law, not being myself under the law, that I might gain them that are under the law; to them that are without law as without law, not being without law to God but under law to Christ. To the weak I became weak, that I might gain the weak. I have become all things to all men that I may by all means save some. And I do all things for the gospel’s sake, that I might be a joint partaker thereof. 1 Cor 9:19-23

Dene Ward

Out here in the sticks we are surrounded by hundreds of acres of pine woods planted by the paper companies.  Do not let anyone tell you that we are depleting our forests by using so much paper.  Old growth forests are not used for paper goods; they are used for that pretty furniture you own.  The paper companies regularly plant the trees they eventually send to the mills. 

I always get a start when I pass a wooded section that has been standing for several years, and find that it has been taken down, soon to be replanted with small saplings.  And I have noticed several times that when the trees are removed, a rundown wooden shack sits in the open, formerly hidden by the rows and rows of sixty foot tall pines.  The porch sags, the roof waffles, the windows are paneless, with dangling shutters or none at all.  There are no power lines and no well tanks.  These dilapidated houses may have been empty nearly a hundred years.

I find myself wondering who lived there.  None of these places could be more than twenty by twenty, many smaller, probably with one or two rooms, three at the most.  Kitchens were often on the back porch because of the heat and humidity in this area; families bathed in wash tubs in the kitchen or on the back porch, and outhouses were the plumbing of the day.  Did a young couple raise a family there?  In those days, they often had as many as nine or ten children.  When it rained they all had to play inside! 

And when it rained the roof leaked.  When the winter wind blew, it seeped in between the board or log walls.  And no telling what might crawl in through the cracks in the floor boards—if there was even a floor.  Yet I know happy families lived there, and good citizens grew up from such poverty.  I know some of those elderly people and they talk of those days with a lot of smiles and chuckles.

Yet here I sit, complaining because sometimes on a clear, still day in the country your electricity goes out for no apparent reason, and if the wind blows at all you can count on it.  No electricity means no air conditioning and no well pump.  Whenever a new neighbor moves in between me and the highway, the phone company will inevitably cut my line when they put in the new one.  And I don’t have a thing to wear!  Well, if I lost ten pounds I might.  I wonder if those folks who lived in that shack had enough food to even worry about getting too heavy. 

These little shacks are reminders to me to be grateful for what I have, and not to covet the material blessings of another.  I can be happy anywhere.  I can raise godly children anywhere.  I can make a good marriage anywhere.  I can be a child of God no matter where I live or how.  But no mansion on earth will make me happy if that is all I care about. 

Godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into this world for neither can we carry anything out; but having food and covering we shall with that be content. 1 Tim 6:6-8.

Dene Ward

When we lived in another state many years ago, we had two hydrangeas, one flanking each side of the patio steps.  I loved those plants.  They took little care and for that meager effort produced huge balls of blue blooms all summer.  So I decided a few years ago to plant a couple here.
           
I understand that there are white hydrangeas that are supposed to be that way.  They are often used in weddings, which seems appropriate and lovely.  But most hydrangeas are not supposed to be white.  Instead, the color of their blooms depends upon the pH of the soil.  If there is plenty of aluminum in the soil, you get blue blooms.  If aluminum is lacking, you usually get pink. 

If you do not get the color you want, you can change it yourself.  Mix one tablespoon of aluminum sulfate per gallon of water and use it during the growing season.  (Be sure the plant is well-watered beforehand or you could burn your plants.)  If you prefer pink blooms, use dolomite.  I really don’t care if I get pink instead of blue, but I did not want white.  White is what I got.

Some people can’t seem to make up their minds about serving God.   They show up on Sunday morning, but you would never know it if you saw them the rest of the week.  Their dress, language, recreation, and opinions match the world around them.  Like God’s people of old, they “fear the Lord, but serve other gods,” 2 Kings 17:21.  Instead of being either pink or blue, they try to be neutral, thinking it will help them get along with both sides.

Jesus addressed their descendants in Matt 6:24—“You cannot serve two masters,” something we often try to do ourselves, giving our time and energy to the material and only the leftovers, if there are any, to the spiritual.  That is why our prayers are often useless.  We know we aren’t pink or blue, so we pray with “doubt,” like the “double-minded man, unstable in all his ways,” James 1:6-8.

That wasn’t the end of passages I could find.  “How long will you go limping between two sides?” Elijah asked in 1 Kgs 18:12.  “Choose this day whom you will serve,” Joshua demanded, 24:15.  The Lord doesn’t want white hydrangeas any more than I do.  He wants people who can make a decision and stand by it, people who care enough to go all out, not just dabble.  We cannot be wishy-washy.  “If you aren’t with me you are against me,” he told the disciples, Luke 11:23. 

One of my hydrangeas has finally developed a light blue tint.  Then I got my acid and alkaline colors mixed up and had Keith put hydrated lime on it.  So tomorrow it may turn pink.  But it really doesn’t matter—one or the other, pink or blue, just not white.  I didn’t plant it to get some neutral color, and that isn’t why God put us where he did either.

I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth. Rev 3:15-16

Dene Ward

Rahab was a harlot, what we would call a prostitute.  I have come across many commentators who have tried their best to turn her into an “innkeeper,” but the word just won’t allow it.

The Hebrew word in Josh 2:1 is zanah.  It is also translated commit fornication, go awhoring, play the harlot, play the whore, whorish, whore, etc.  It is used in Lev 19:29; Hos 4:13; Ex 34:16; Isa 23:17 and many other places where the meaning is quite clear.  In the New Testament, the word is porne, in James 2:25 for example, and I do not imagine I need to tell you the English word we get from that Greek one.  This same word is translated whore in Rev 17:1,15,16; 19:2.  Rahab was a harlot, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

So what is the problem with commentators who insist on “innkeeper?”  The same one the Pharisees had.  If Jesus was the Messiah, how could he possibly associate with publicans and sinners?  If Rahab was a harlot, how could she possibly be in the genealogy of Christ?  Yet they talk about the grace and mercy of God like they understand it better than we do.

And sometimes we are no better.  Whom do we open our arms to when they walk through our doors?  Whom do we actively seek and label “good prospects for the gospel?”  Yet the people we choose to shun are the people who understand grace because they understand their need for it.  We are a bit like the rich, young ruler, who, though he knew something was missing in his life despite all the laws he kept faithfully, still thought his salvation depended upon something he could do.

Rahab showed her dependence on God with a scarlet line she hung from her window.  Did you know that word is only translated “line” twice in the Old Testament, counting this occurrence in Josh 2:21?  The other translations are expectation (seven times such as Psa 62:5), hope (23 times, such as Jer 17:13; Psa 71:5), and the thing that I long for (once, Job 6:8).  I do believe it was a literal rope of some sort, but it seems more than a passing coincidence that the word most of the time has those other meanings.  I have often wondered what her neighbors thought of that cord hanging there, but every day Rahab was reminded of the salvation she did not deserve, that she hoped for, longed for, and expected to receive when those people marched into the land. 

When we get a little too big for our britches, a little too proud of our pedigree in the kingdom, maybe we need to hang a scarlet cord in our windows to remind us of what we used to be, and what we have waiting for us in spite of that.

But when the kindness of God our Savior, and his love toward man, appeared, not by works done in righteousness, which we did ourselves, but according to his mercy he saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit, which he poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, that being justified by his grace we might be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.  Titus 3:4-7

Dene Ward