Malachi is not a difficult book to understand.  In fact, it, along with Jonah, may be the two easiest of the prophets to grasp.  The difficulty in Malachi is that you do understand it.  Talk about a hard sermon, I haven't heard anyone of our era preach one like it—not even Keith!
            “A son honors his father, and a servant his master. If then I am a father, where is my honor? And if I am a master, where is my fear? says the LORD of hosts to you, O priests, who despise my name. But you say, ‘How have we despised your name?’ By offering polluted food upon my altar. But you say, ‘How have we polluted you?’ By saying that the LORD's table may be despised. When you offer blind animals in sacrifice, is that not evil? And when you offer those that are lame or sick, is that not evil? Present that to your governor; will he accept you or show you favor? says the LORD of hosts. And now entreat the favor of God, that he may be gracious to us. With such a gift from your hand, will he show favor to any of you? says the LORD of hosts. Oh that there were one among you who would shut the doors, that you might not kindle fire on my altar in vain! I have no pleasure in you, says the LORD of hosts, and I will not accept an offering from your hand. For from the rising of the sun to its setting my name will be great among the nations, and in every place incense will be offered to my name, and a pure offering. For my name will be great among the nations, says the LORD of hosts. But you profane it when you say that the Lord's table is polluted, and its fruit, that is, its food may be despised. But you say, ‘What a weariness this is,’ and you snort at it, says the LORD of hosts. You bring what has been taken by violence or is lame or sick, and this you bring as your offering! Shall I accept that from your hand? says the LORD. (Mal 1:6-13)
            If you just skimmed over that passage above, stop right now, go back and read it carefully.
            My sisters and I trod very lightly as we read through this first chapter in our prophets class.  We put off the pain as long as possible, talking about whether Malachi was really a prophet named Malachi or an anonymous writer called "Malachi," which means "my messenger."  We decided Malachi was indeed the prophet Malachi.  After all, every name in Hebrew means some sort of ordinary word.  Just because we choose to give our children names that are a conglomeration of syllables and sounds that we have no clue what means doesn't mean everyone does.
            Then we spent more time discussing when Malachi was written, which, due to the nature of the similar problems in both Malachi and Nehemiah, seemed a no-brainer.  And after that came an explanation of the disputation method of speaking, which several of the prophets employed.  Only Malachi uses it throughout an entire book.
            Finally we could put it off no longer.  "How," the question in our study began, "can we apply this passage to ourselves?"  "How can we," someone asked, "when we live in such different times?"  Ah, but do we?
            Those people had returned from captivity to restore the nation of Israel and its true worship.  They had built the altar first, so they could begin their worship immediately.  Then they built the Temple and finally the walls of the city.  Here they are about 100 years after the return, going about the daily sacrifices and annual feasts, yet still God has not brought about the glorious kingdom he had promised.  Still the Messiah has not come.  They are in a waiting period and, as they wait, their worship has become dull, meaningless routine.  Their heart is no longer in it.  They are bored in their assemblies and snort at the rituals rather than remembering the reason for them.
            Let's see… Aren't we in a waiting period?  Jesus promised his return 2000 years ago, but here we sit, going through the same routines, forgetting why we worship and neither giving it our best effort nor our best sacrifice.
            So how are we like those people sometimes?  Hang onto your hats as we go through those verses above from our perspective!
            1)  Worship has become all about our entertainment and approval rather than obedience and reverence.  We have completely forgotten that we are not the audience—God is—and He expects us to worship to the best of our abilities even if the preacher is boring and we don't like the songs.  It doesn't matter—AT—ALL—what we think about the services, only what God does.
            2) We treat the Lord's Supper like some kind of magic potion.  As long as we "make it in time for that," we are okay.  Never mind that we have missed singing with our hearts to our Creator.  Never mind that we have not taught and admonished each other.  Never mind that we have not been there to provoke one another to love and good works.  That teensy bite and sip (where did that come from?) will keep us safe for another week.  We fail to treat this precious opportunity as a grateful memorial and unifying communion with the Lord and our brethren.
            3) We offer God skimpy or exhausted leftovers, not only in the plate, but in our time and energy for prayer, study, and service.  ("Study?  I read my chapter every night.  What more is there to do?")
            4) We compartmentalize our religion to Sunday at the meetinghouse and forget that we are to offer our "living sacrifice" every day of the week.  When we wake in the morning, it should be with an eye how to best serve God that day—not ourselves.
            5) We fail to teach what is unpopular with the world.  Why, we will just run them off if they know we believe that! (2:7,8)
            How are your toes feeling now?  Malachi hits the nail on the head and never apologizes for it.  Could it be that he knows this truth:  God won't be happy with us either if this is the way we serve him.  We may be waiting a long time yet.  The world may last another millennia or two, but maybe not.  Let's not get as bad those people.  Wouldn't it be awful if God said of us as he did of them, "I wish there were one among you who would close the meetinghouse doors, that you no longer worship me in vain?" (1:10)
​
Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes. Truly, I say to you, he will set him over all his possessions. But if that servant says to himself, ‘My master is delayed in coming,’ and begins to beat the male and female servants, and to eat and drink and get drunk, the master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he does not know, and will cut him in pieces and put him with the unfaithful. (Luke 12:43-46)
 
Dene Ward

John does not mince his words.  If how a person behaves contradicts what he says, he is a liar.  To claim to know God and have fellowship with God while we walk in the darkness of disobedience is to lie (1 John 1:6; 2:4).  To claim to possess the Father while denying the deity of the Son is to lie (2:22-23).  To claim to love God while hating our brothers is also to lie.  There are the three black lies of the letter:  moral, doctrinal, and social.  We may insist that we are Christian, but habitual sin, denial of Christ or selfish hatred would expose us as liars.  Only holiness, faith and love can prove the truth of our claim to know, possess and love God.

L A Mott, Jr., Thinking Through John's Epistles

Whenever we whiz past workers on the interstate, I cringe, especially if they are not standing behind the "protection" of those concrete barriers.  What if one of them slipped and fell?  What if a couple of them were engaging in horseplay and a little shove propelled one into traffic?  What if…  My imagination can run overtime with those things, I'm afraid, but even if I were not to blame, I would feel terrible if he fell in front of my car.
            I know that is so because when I was a child, one of my parents' friends accidentally killed a child who was riding his bike around his neighborhood.  No, it was not the man's fault.  The boy was not watching where he was going and simply rode out into the middle of the street.  Maybe, as an inexperienced child, he thought a car could stop on a dime.  I don't know, but he was killed instantly.
            Our friend was a wreck.  Witnesses stood by him and he was cleared of all culpability, but he still had a hard time with it.  Over and over he kept thinking, "I killed an innocent child," and the word "accident" made no difference to him whatsoever.
            I would feel the same way, and I believe you would, too.  Being responsible for the death of anyone at all, much less an innocent, would be a terrible burden to bear.  Would there be anything we wouldn't do for that family to try to make amends?
            Yet we are all guilty of killing an innocent person.  Every one of us who has sinned even one sin—if that were possible—has murdered the Son of God.  Does it haunt you the way killing that child haunted our friend?  Would you do anything to make amends? 
            And the worst of it is this—for us it wasn't even an accident.  And in the words of the old hymn, every time we sin, we "crucify him once again."  If it made us feel as bad as it ought to, maybe we wouldn't have such a difficult time with temptation.  If we truly felt horrible about it, we might just be able to overcome.
            Something to think about this morning.
 
For as touching those who were once enlightened and tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the age to come, and then fell away, it is impossible to renew them again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame. (Heb 6:4-6)
 
Dene Ward

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, Eph 5:25

Our culture gets in the way of our Bible study far too often.  It is a lesson taught to me by a younger woman about twenty years ago.  During that class we were discussing the wives of David and the problems that might have caused—all of them being wives of the same man.  Naturally the idea of jealousy and resentment came up first, and we discussed that for several minutes. 
Finally this young woman spoke up and said, "I don't think we have any idea how those women felt.  They grew up with the idea of polygamy.  It was all around them, especially in the neighboring countries, and even among the richer Israelites.  They knew from the beginning that they might find themselves in this situation.  Their own mothers might have been in that situation.  How can we who are used to monogamy even imagine what they were feeling?"
            I knew immediately that she was correct.  We carry our cultural baggage into our Bible study when we need to be dropping it off at the study door.  The only way to know how these women might have felt is to talk to a woman who has experienced it.
            And because of our cultural baggage we miss a lot of other examples in the Biblical text.  How about the marriage of Abraham and Sarah?
            Abraham married his half-sister Sarah.  Period.  He was surrounded by polygamy.  His friends and neighbors were likely polygamists. He was wealthy and polygamy was far more common among the rich.  It took money to support several wives and a few dozen children.
            And—Sarah had not given him an heir.  That alone would have been cause for the men of that place and era to find a second, or even third wife.  I can just imagine a neighbor stopping by and saying, "Abraham, my daughter is marriageable now.  She is healthy and could give you the children Sarah has not."  I can even imagine that happening several times. 
            But Abraham did not succumb for decades.  He was 85 when Sarah finally prevailed upon him to take Hagar as a second wife, a concubine since she was a servant.  It took Sarah's great love for her husband and great faith in the plan of God—that there had to be an heir for the promises to come about—before he would even think of doing so.
            Somehow, this man of God had learned the Divine Plan of God for marriage—one man for one woman for one lifetime—and had lived up to it, even among rampant, and culturally acceptable, polygamy.  This man had learned to love his wife "as his own body" thousands of years before Paul put it into words.
            We miss all that because none of us would have ever even dreamed of polygamy to solve the problem.   We miss it because monogamy is second nature to us.  We miss the love this man had for his wife, even after she had grown old and unable to bear him a child, a child God said had to be born for all those promises He made to come about.  Still he was willing to wait, willing to be satisfied with the woman he had originally chosen, when no one else he knew would have.
            And how many of us become dissatisfied over the trivial, dissatisfied enough to trade one in for a new model, as the old saying goes?  How many of us can match the devotion these two people had for each other through thick or thin, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse?  How many of us jump at the first "worse" there is to get out of it?
            See what you miss when you don't study the culture of the times?  See what you miss when you think we are so much smarter, so much wiser, so much more knowledgeable about God than those ancient people were?  Drop your luggage at the door and see what they have to teach you.
 
In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.  For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body. “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” (Eph 5:28-31)
 
Dene Ward

You would probably be as surprised as I was to learn that vichyssoise, a cold potato leek soup, is an American invention.  Chef Louis Diat of the Ritz Carlton in New York City, was reminiscing one day about a potato soup he and his brother had enjoyed in their childhood.  As boys, they would cool it off during the hot summer by adding milk.  So the chef decided to give his customers a similar experience the summer of 1917, except that what began as potatoes, onions, chicken broth, and milk for peasants became potatoes, onions, leeks, chicken stock and cream, much more suited to a wealthier clientele.  Something similar happened to bouillabaisse.  What began as a stew made by sailors with fish scraps now goes for as much as $75 a bowl in French restaurants.  Talk about an expensive bowl of soup.  Yet most soup is exactly the opposite.
            We eat a lot of soup.  It’s cheap, filling, and healthy.  Even one as high as 400 calories a bowlful is a good meal, and most are far less fattening, coming in at about 200 per serving.  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 about 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 working 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
 

Here is an issue that arose with "The David Game," and if you use it, you may have this happen as well.  In fact, this happens to everyone sometime or other in their lives.  It just struck quicker as we were studying that great man of faith with our grandsons.  As the first week of lessons wore on, you could see David growing into a bona fide Superhero in their eyes.  Every day they eagerly awaited the next adventure.
            Then we reached 2 Samuel 11.  As I went through the narrative in terms I thought they could understand—David stealing both a man's wife and then his life—they became quieter and quieter.  Their little blond heads dipped until their chins nearly touched their chests as they wrestled with the concept of a good guy who acted like a bad guy. 
            "Uh-oh," I thought.  "Have I ruined everything?" 
            As it turns out, I hadn't.  We were able to talk about good people making bad mistakes and how God always forgives and takes us back as long as we are truly sorry, willing to say, "I was wrong," and try our best not to sin again.  Their spirits lifted.  After all, they got in trouble now and again too, didn't they?  Here was proof that they were still loved.  David was once again a Bible hero.
            The story of David—of Judah and Peter, too—is an inspiration and a warning to every Christian.  No matter how well you have done for how long, you can still fall, but no matter how far you fall, God will take you back.  But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. (1John 1:7)  We all hunger for that forgiveness and revel in its comfort.
            Yet I have seen too many adults who, when they realize their heroes are not perfect, refuse to give that same forgiveness.
            All children grow up thinking Mommy and Daddy are Superheroes.  Sometime around middle school the luster begins to fade.  By high school, parents are so often "wrong," in their eyes at least, that they can barely be tolerated.
            And the truth is, parents are ordinary people.  They do make mistakes, sometimes big ones.  They have annoying habits and less than stellar character traits--just like every other human on the planet.  The larger problem is they have children, sometimes grown children, who won't accept anything less than perfection.
            When God tells us to forgive one another (Col 3:13 among a host of others), that goes for parents too, and any other person we have expected perfection from—mentors, teachers, preachers, elders, etc.  We have no right to sit in judgment over their apologies, deciding whether or not they are sincere based upon nothing but our own arrogant expectations.  We certainly have no right to ruin a relationship they might have with someone else.  I have seen grandparents have no opportunity for a relationship with their grandchildren because their unforgiving children hold on to grudges from the past.  Meanwhile, those same unforgiving children are making their own mistakes as parents because no parent does it all right—no, not even them, no matter what they might think otherwise.  I have seen the same things happen to elders and preachers by an unforgiving congregant who spreads his ill will everywhere at every opportunity.  Ruining another's perspective somehow validates his own.
            Forgiveness isn't just for strangers or people we aren't particularly close to.  The mistakes of a parent, mentor, or teacher may be more difficult to bear, but an unforgiving child or student or spiritual dependent is devastating to everyone.
 
Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. (Eph 4:31-32)

Dene Ward

Someone once posted on Facebook about "the scariest day of his life."  That instantly made me wonder what mine was.  When you reach my age, you might have a variety to choose from.
            There was the day I found myself alone and cornered in an office by someone twice my size, who had evil intentions toward me.
            There was the day I found myself looking straight through the windshield into another windshield just seconds before we hit head-on.
            There was the day the telephone operator broke through my conversation with one of my piano student's mother with an emergency cut-in.  Within minutes I heard that my husband had been shot in the line of duty, and I jumped in the car for a sixty mile trip to the hospital, not knowing what I would find when I got there.
            Then there was the week afterward when, because he was under threat from the family of the felon who had ambushed him, and because he had five bullet holes in him and was certainly not able to do it himself, I sat up by the window, keeping watch every night.
            There was the day I received another phone call.  My husband had been found lying in the middle of the highway having convulsions.  I followed the ambulance to the hospital and sat for hours wondering how my life was about to change.
            There was the day I signed page after page after page, including handwritten clauses going up the side of the paper saying, "I understand that no one knows how this material will interact with human tissue."  Then I went into a first of its kind surgery with a surgeon who, though one of the best in the world, still had to practice two or three times (on pigs' eyes!) before he touched me, and I was wondering if I would ever see again.
            Yes, there have been many scary days in my life.  But I can think of nothing scarier than this:  facing my death knowing that I am not right with God.  I will do my best to see that that does not happen.
            How about you?
 
For the time is come for judgment to begin at the house of God: and if it begin first at us, what shall be the end of them that obey not the gospel of God? (1Pet 4:17)
 
Dene Ward

Recently I had occasion in a ladies' Bible class to use an event from a congregation "long ago and far away" as an example.  As usual, I mentioned no names or places or even exact dates.  Some concepts are difficult to convey without a real-life Illustration.  Unfortunately, I have had to do that more than once during the subject we are now studying and I realized what it might sound like to the class.  I hastened to add, "I know it sounds like we went through the mill in a lot of places,  so let me tell you this too:  we have also had some wonderful experiences that I would not have wanted to miss, and met some of the best people in the world, many of whom we still count as friends."  No place is perfect—and neither are any of their preachers.
            That led me to remember the times we have been asked to leave a congregation under less than ideal circumstances.  I was young, naïve, and far too full of myself, but somehow I did remember this:  The cause of Christ is not about my glory or my feelings or even a wrong done to me and my family.  I must not do anything, regardless the circumstances, to harm the mission of the church in a specific area.  So when neighbors or family who were not Christians asked me why we left, I was very careful in what I said.  Usually, it went something like this:  "We have been here a few years and the church felt it was time for a change."  No one ever questioned me more, and I was relieved.  The gospel was not going to suffer in this area because I felt a need to cry on someone's shoulder.
            Paul is the perfect example of this.  He talked about "false brethren" in his list of trials (2 Cor 11:26).  He mentioned preaching brethren who did their best to cause him trouble while he was in prison (Phil 1:17), but he always kept things "in house."  He didn't go around telling the people he was trying to convert how awful these people he wanted them to be a part of had treated him.  That would defeat the purpose of preaching, don't you think?
            He mentions in 1 Corinthians 7 that he wishes that everyone would remain unmarried.  No, not just in the case of persecution, but even before that in the chapter.  And why?  Because you have others to be concerned about.  Though the distractions in that chapter have to do with caring for a family and persecution that might affect that family, I can apply that in a host of ways, including this one.  If a church mistreats a preacher, it is not just mistreating him, but also his wife and children.  So, he says, make sure you can handle what might come not only your way, but theirs.  Not even innocent children have the right to harm the cause of Christ.
            Paul also mentions suffering at the hands of brothers in 1 Corinthians 6.  It is a "shame" to have outsiders see us squabbling, he said.  Better to choose to suffer wrong, or even be defrauded, than have the spread of the gospel harmed by insisting on my rights in the matter.  In fact, he says that when we put ourselves forward like that we are "defrauding" the church with the consequences it brings. (1 Cor 6:7,8)
            "Discretion is the better part of valor" comes from Shakespeare's Henry IV Part 1, (sort of) and is meant to be a joke.  Falstaff is saying that keeping his mouth shut has saved his life, NOT that being quiet is the most important part of bravery.  But I think in our case, it is not a joke at all.  We are being discreet about what has been done to us because we recognize that we are not the center of God's plan to save man.  To put ourselves in that position is nothing short of arrogance, but to be discreet enough that the cause of the gospel will not be hurt takes a special sort of selfless bravery.
            We all have that obligation, not just preacher's families.  We should be spreading the word about the good things the local group has done for us, not talking up the bad.  How do we ever expect our neighbors to want to be a part of a group that we have nothing good to say about?  It is far easier—and a lot more satisfying—to be the drama queen who can raise a ruckus about my mistreatment.
            Paul's example says, "Don't do it.  Be discreet.  Put the gospel before yourself and even before your children.  If you can't, then either don't get married or don't preach."  We would all do well to remember that.
 
Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” (Rom 12:17-19)
 
Dene Ward
 

Lydia McGrew has written four evidences books that I know of.  This is the second I have read, and it is every bit as good as the first one.  Her aim every time is to prove that the Gospels are reliable reportage about what happened in first century Palestine with Jesus and his apostles.  Most of her books are accessible to the average reader and this one is no exception.
            Ms. McGrew makes new arguments and revives older ones that have been abandoned to show why we can trust the "four evangelists," as scholars call Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.  And she shows without much regret why modern critical scholars, some of whom she names, are "all wet."  Her chapters include things like Undesigned Coincidences, Unnecessary Details, Unexplained Allusions, and Unexpected Harmonies among others, to prove that what the gospel writers have left us is absolute truth, not made up stories.  Some of these are things you and I take for granted, never realizing their value as evidence material.  You will be emboldened by her arguments and ready to face your skeptical friends with new vigor.  And you will learn more about the gospels than you ever have sitting in an auditorium Bible class!
            Testimonies to the Truth is published by DeWard Publishing.
 
Dene Ward

If you "grew up in the church," if you have been a Christian for 20 years or more, you certainly know Hebrews chapter 11.  Some people call it the Faith Hall of Fame, as good a description as any, I suppose.  If I asked you to list the names in that chapter, you probably could.  But even though we are all familiar with it, I am not sure very many of us really understand what it means to our lives.  After all, we aren't great heroes of faith are we?  We certainly ought to be!
           So I have taken a liberty or two—or three, or four—and with your kind indulgence present the following, hoping it will help not only me, but you also.

            By faith the young mother arises to another day of endless chores, sick babies, and not enough time to handle it all, knowing in her heart the importance God has set on her managing her home and teaching her family, and willing to work hard at it even when it seems to present no immediate rewards.
            By faith the father returns to a job he doesn't really like, among people who are godless, immoral, often foul-mouthed and intemperate because he realizes that God has given him a family to support and children to raise.  He won't quit because he doesn't enjoy the work or the boss doesn't treat him right, but will keep on working "as unto the Lord."
            By faith the teenager takes the mean teasing of his so-called friends and still refuses to participate with them in their filthy language, immodest apparel, drinking, drugging, and sexual immorality, valuing his purity as a vessel fit for God's use rather than his own comfort among his peers.
            By faith the single child of God serves even those who constantly pester him about his choices in life, making him feel useless or immature as a Christian, simply because he has not married.  He takes it all with equanimity and grace, accomplishing just as much or more than they do for the God he loves.
            By faith the widow arrives at the meetinghouse on Sunday morning, sits where she has always sat with an empty place next to her, and sings with even more spirit the songs of a loving Savior and the promises he has given us, planning to meet her life's love at the gate where she is sure he is waiting.
            By faith the woman whose husband has forsaken her, who now faces a life of hardship and perhaps even poverty, understands that she still has children to raise, and who, despite a life that has completely fallen apart, a broken heart, and endless, but hidden, tears, raises them to be good citizens, good servants, and even to respect a father who has deserted them because that is what God expects her to do.
            By faith the man who receives a terminal diagnosis faces it with strength because he believes in the hope God has promised, and sees it as his responsibility to set the example for others.
            By faith the couple who lose a child, despite the most horrible pain imaginable, teach their remaining children about a God who loves them and a sibling who will be with them again someday if they will only be as true and faithful as the example their parents are setting before them.
            I will let you supply the names to these people.  I know them all.  Some of them are you.
 
And what shall I more say? for the time will fail me if I tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah; of David and Samuel and the prophets: who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, from weakness were made strong, waxed mighty in war, turned to flight armies of aliens. Women received their dead by a resurrection: and others were tortured, not accepting their deliverance; that they might obtain a better resurrection: and others had trial of mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment: they were stoned, they were sawn asunder, they were tempted, they were slain with the sword: they went about in sheepskins, in goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated (of whom the world was not worthy), wandering in deserts and mountains and caves, and the holes of the earth. And these all, having had witness borne to them through their faith, received not the promise, God having provided some better thing concerning us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect. (Heb 11:32-40)
 
Dene Ward