I am a crossword puzzle enthusiast—a cruciverbalist, but that is not the extent of the word games I enjoy.  One of my favorites involves making as many words as possible out of one larger word—not anagrams exactly, which use every letter of the word and are small in number, but using the letters of the word only as many times as the original word uses them and making as many other words as possible, three letters or larger, not counting plurals, past tense, or other obvious derivatives. 

            For example, how many other words can you make out of the word “jealousy?”  Sea, use, you, soul, say, aloes, lose, louse, yea, seal, joules, lea, sole, jay, lay, say, soy—and that’s just off the top of my head typing as fast as I can.  But how about this one—joy?  Seems a little ironic, doesn’t it, that you can make joy out of jealousy?

            A lot of people get those two mixed up.  In times where we should be “rejoicing with those who rejoice,” we find ourselves feeling just a tinge of jealousy.  Why did he get that promotion and not me?  Why is she being lauded from the pulpit and not me?  Why do people run to them for advice when I am just as smart/experienced/knowledgeable/ wise, etc.?  And that green-eyed monster gradually takes over, turning us into its willing minion.  We can easily think of reasons that other person does not deserve this and spread it to whomever will listen, causing us to ignore our own blessings, steeping ourselves in ingratitude that gradually becomes bitterness, not just against the other person, but at life in general. 

            Elizabeth is the best example I know of someone who got it right.  She took what could have been a cause for jealousy and changed it into a cause for joy.

            Zacharias and Elizabeth had made it to old age without having children.  According to Lenski, Elizabeth was probably looked down on as someone who had somehow displeased God—that was the general attitude toward barren women.  Finally, after years of waiting, probably with a multitude of prayers, Zacharias came home with the good news—albeit written down, since he could no longer speak:  “We are going to be parents!”  And not only that, but this child will be special—he will be the promised Elijah spoken of in Malachi.

            Then lo and behold, six months later, along comes her teenage cousin with even better news.  She too, is pregnant, and is blessed to bear the Messiah.  What?!  Elizabeth has been waiting for decades.  She is older and wiser.  She has been the faithful wife of a priest, and borne the ridicule of an ignorant culture, blaming her for her own misfortune.  And she gets the Forerunner while this child who has scarcely lived long enough to even be considered faithful, who is fertile (in this culture the family would know her menstrual history) and will probably (and ultimately did) bare more than half a dozen children, this girl gets the Messiah?  How fair is that?

            But Elizabeth had the grateful attitude and the abiding Messianic hope of a faithful child of God.  In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, and she entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? Luke 1:39-43.

            Not only is she excited for Mary, she humbles herself before a younger woman, one with far less experience and far less service on her record—she simply hadn’t lived long enough to do much yet.  And her joy?  It was not a feigned, polite joy, but a joy so overwhelming that “the babe leaped in her womb for joy” v 44.  I am told that “leap for joy” is one Greek word, the same one used in verse 40, quoted earlier.  It is a sympathetic joy.  In other words, Elizabeth was so moved with joy that it caused her unborn child to move within her.  Every mother understands how her own emotions can affect her unborn baby, in the last trimester especially.  Elizabeth’s joy for her young cousin was that deep and moving.  Jealousy never entered her heart for a second.

            How does that match with statements like, “He gets to lead singing more than my husband;” “My husband hasn’t been asked to teach in a long time;” “How can he be an elder when my husband is just as good as he is and no one has asked him.” 

            Oh yes, it happens.  And it should not.  If we are all members of the same body, then if one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. 1Cor 12:26. 

            Love “envies not” 1 Cor 13:4.  When you do envy, you do not love as you are commanded to.  Jealousy and envy are works of the flesh (Gal 5:20,21).  Those who practice them “will not inherit the kingdom of God.”  Check yourself on this.  Has your speech given you away?
T
            oo many of us get this backwards.  We rejoice when bad things happen to others and weep when good things happen to them.  What about you?
 
If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another. Gal 5:25-26
 
Dene Ward
 

I don’t need to tell you the story of the Prodigal, or Wasteful, Son.  I am sure you have heard the lesson so many times you might shut this book if I tried.  All I want you to think about this morning is the point that young man had to reach before he could truly repent.  He had to hit rock bottom.  He had to wake up and find himself completely alone with nothing but the pigs for company and the food he fed them for sustenance. 

            We raised pigs when the boys were still with us.  Every fall we put a new one in the freezer and it kept us well fed for a year.  But after raising them, I can say with authority that it was a brave man who first ate one.  Leaning over to put the feed in the trough and coming face to face with a snorting, muddy, ugly, animal whose head was twice as big as mine, and who nose was always running and caked with a mixture of dirt and feed was nothing short of disgusting.  I never had a bit of trouble come slaughtering day, despite the fact that we named them all—either Hamlet or Baconette, depending upon gender. 

            When we have sinned against God, we need to reach the point that young man did, bending over and finding himself face to face with a filthy, reeking, disgusting animal.  We need to understand how low we have sunk.  For some it may not take as much.  Their “rock bottom” may be a realization that comes from private study and its conviction, or someone’s chance comment in a Bible class that hits the mark.  That may be enough to turn their hearts.  But for the stubborn, the arrogant, and the foolish, it will always take more.  They have to have their noses rubbed in the mud of the sty to realize that they are indeed eating with the pigs.

            But we must not think this is only for those who have “left” and then returned.  This needs to happen every time we sin, not just the “big ones.”  Why do you think those little sins keep plaguing us?  Because we have never seen them as anything but “little.”  We have let our culture and our own pride keep us from comprehending the enormity of sin and what it does to our relationship with our God.  Nothing that caused the death of the Son of God is “little.”  For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, Rom 3:23.  We don’t understand “glory” if we think that even the tiniest amount of sin can stand in its presence.  We have to, in the words of Ezekiel, remember your evil ways and your deeds that were not good, and loathe yourselves for your iniquities and your abominations, 36:31.

            So the next time you pray for forgiveness, ask yourself first if you recognize how far you have fallen; if you understand that any sin is horrible; that even the tiniest sin, as men count them, makes you forever unworthy to stand in the presence of an Almighty God.

            Ask yourself if you realize that you have been eating with the pigs.
 
For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. For see what earnestness this godly grief has produced in you, but also what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what fear, what longing, what zeal, what punishment! At every point you have proved yourselves innocent in the matter, 2 Cor 7:10,11.
 
Dene Ward

1 Kings 14 tells of Jeroboam sending his wife to Ahijah, the prophet of God, to ask whether his son would recover from an illness.  Shortly before, another prophet had condemned Jeroboam’s unauthorized methods of worshipping God and prophesied the end of his kingdom, but Ahijah was the one who had foretold his taking of the northern kingdom from Solomon’s dynasty.  Ahijah would certainly give him a better prediction, he must have thought.

            Yet what did he do?  Ahijah was old and could not see well.  (Perhaps he had cataracts.)  Still, Jeroboam told his wife to disguise herself.  He told her to take gifts to the prophet.  Surely he must have felt some trepidation to take such measures.  But think how ridiculous those precautions were.  If he believes that Ahijah is a prophet of the God who controls all, how will this prophet not know who is standing before him?  Sin can make you do stupid things.

            And sure enough, when Ahijah heard the sound of her feet, as she came in at the door, he said, "Come in, wife of Jeroboam. Why do you pretend to be another?” 14:6.

            The scriptures tell other tales of people trying to disguise themselves—Saul when he went to the necromancer at Endor, and Jacob seeking the blessing of his father Isaac, among them.  But in every case, God knows who is standing before him and his purpose is fulfilled. 

            We often act like we are better than those foolish people, but, sadly, that is not the case.  It isn’t just the obvious cases we often mention—Sunday morning Christians who seem to think that God will not know what happens the rest of the week, pew sitters whose worship is only in form while their hearts are elsewhere, the disobedient and presumptuous who think that as long as they sing loud and pray long that their deviation from God’s commands won’t matter.  Sometimes we try to hide behind other methods of anonymity.  It’s an easy thing to do these days.

            When you talk to someone on the phone, it’s easy to be someone else isn’t it?  It’s easy to say hard things because you aren’t looking someone in the eye, maybe even because they are out of arm’s reach.  When you write a letter it’s easy to go on a tirade—no interruptions, no one to gasp at your audacity or become angry at your hyperbolic accusations.  When you sit behind the steering wheel, the other guy can’t hear you curse him.  It’s easier to blast away on the horn or do unto him as he did unto you because that tinted glass gives you a feeling of security and facelessness. 

            Be careful that you don’t do just as Jeroboam did and forget that there is no anonymity with God.  There is no rationalizing with him either—he can see right through your excuses just like he can phone lines, mailboxes, and windshields.  He sees every tyrant in the letter, every harridan over the phone, and every bully behind the wheel.

            What he had rather see is our doing right.  Nineteen times in the Old Testament I found the phrase “he did right in the eyes of God.”  Jesus told us we should give in secret, pray in our rooms, and do our best not to let others know when we are fasting for religious purposes (Matt 6).  Just as God will see the wrong we try to hide, he will see the good we don’t brag about—one just as easily as the other.  Give him something nice to look at today.
 
The eyes of the LORD are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good, Prov 15:3.       Dene Ward

And it fell on a day that Elisha passed to Shunem where was a great woman, 2 Kings 4:8.
 
            Shunem was a town in the tribal lands of Issachar, three and a half miles north of Jezreel, the home of the summer palace for the kings of Israel.  If you have a newer translation, you already know that, at least in this passage, “great” means “wealthy.”  Yet this woman was great in our own vernacular as well.

            The very fact that she recognized Elisha as a man of God and wanted to help him was amazing in itself.  Israel was headed headlong into rampant idolatry and immorality.  Jehoram reigned, a son of Ahab, a king of whom the scriptures say, and he did that which was evil in the sight of the Lord.  Although he put away Ahab’s pillar to Baal, nevertheless he clung to the sin of Jeroboam the son of Nebat which he made Israel to sin; he did not depart from it (3:2,3).

            This woman in the midst of an apostate people managed to remain faithful to Jehovah, to recognize his servant and to offer him a permanent room on his journeys.  This was not a spare room in the house, but one she added, increasing the expense of it.  It began with her invitation to a meal, then another, and another any time he passed by.  He couldn’t offer her a schedule or phone ahead.  The terms were always “whenever.”  Thus it began and grew to the greater commitment of a furnished room.

            Unlike so many other examples of Biblical hospitality, she was the instigator, not her husband, and she did it without looking for a return.  Indeed, when a thank you gift was offered, she was surprised.  I dwell among my own people, she said, indicating she did not think herself special or worthy at all.  This utter humility of a wealthy person is amazing when you see the opposite in so many today.  And how many of us would be expecting not only a hostess gift, but the singing of our praises to others as well?  She seemed to view Elisha as the worthy one, not herself.

            Truly, her greatness was about her faith.  She served Elisha, not to gain glory but because he was “a man of God.”  She recognized that wealth was to be used in service to God not to self.

            Several years later Elisha did her a great favor, warning her of a coming famine.  Arise and depart with your household and sojourn wherever you can, he told her.  It will come upon the land for seven years (8:1).

            How many of us would have the faith to leave everything at one word, not knowing whether we would ever get it back?  Wealth was measured in belongings in those days, land and crops and flocks and herds, not in bank accounts, investments, and stock portfolios.  She could take none of it with her.  When she left, she virtually impoverished herself.  Would we do the same, or does it all mean just a little too much to us?

            God in his providence took care of this faithful woman.  When she returned to the land seven years later and made petition to the country’s wicked king, Elisha’s old dishonored servant Gehazi “just happened” to be there, entertaining the king with stories about his days with the old prophet.

            “Why look here!” he told the king.  “This is the woman I told you about,” and being in a generous frame of mind, the king restored her land along with all the produce of the fields from the day she left till now (8:3-6).

            That “great” woman had no idea she would get it all back.  Elisha had never promised her anything except her life and her family’s lives if she left.  But she was so “great”—wealthy—in faith that God chose to reward her.

            Don’t make any mistake about it.  We fit the bill; we are the wealthy ones the scriptures talk about.  How is our faith these days?  Is it “great” or impoverished?  Are we rich toward the world or “rich toward God” (Luke 12:21)?  We show the answer by how we use our monetary wealth.  We show it by how we expect to be treated by others who are less fortunate.  We show it by the importance we place on it.

            How would we measure up against this “great” woman?
 
As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life. 1 Tim 6:17-19
 
Dene Ward
 

In the old days buttermilk was simply the liquid left over after churning butter.  It was thin and watery, and not sour at all, unless you allowed your cream to “ripen” a few days before churning, something high end butter makers still do today.

            Nowadays buttermilk is skim milk to which cultures have been added to develop flavor and to thicken consistency.  Buttermilk has its place in the baker’s refrigerator.  It adds tang and helps the rise, especially when used with baking soda.  You will have the highest and fluffiest biscuits and pancakes you ever made.

            The word “culture” has several meanings.  A culture can be a special nutrient in which things are grown, usually in laboratories.  In agriculture it can refer to tillage to prepare the land for planting.  It can apply to a specific community of people and their shared beliefs and customs, and also the things they produce like art, music, and literature.  Can you see in all these cases a relationship to growth and improvement?  In the kitchen it certainly produces better baked goods.  But culture can be negative as well.  The culture of Sodom and Gomorrah produced a sinful lifestyle that led to its destruction.

            Ruth understood the effects of a culture.  This brave young widow was willing to leave behind her culture and embrace another just so she could worship Jehovah.  In her world, no matter the culture, widows could look forward to only two things—either a new husband to support her, or poverty for the rest of her life.  “Orphans and widows” were the symbol of helplessness throughout the scriptures.  Ruth’s best bet for a happy and prosperous life was to stay in her homeland among her own people and find that new husband. 

            But something was more important to her than her comfort zone, as we so often call it.  She completely changed her culture.  She left home for a place where she had to learn a new language, new customs and traditions, and new laws.  She left her family and her friends for a people not known for accepting strangers with open arms.  Why do you think the law is full of reminders to take care of “strangers and sojourners?”  We know the end of the story, but Ruth didn’t.  She had nothing to look forward to but a life of hard work and poverty, dependent upon whether or not these new people she was willing to claim as her own followed the laws God set up to support widows.  I think it is obvious that even if they had not, her conversion was to Jehovah, not them, and she would have continued on anyway.

            How about us?  Do we have the strength to give up our culture?  Language, fashion, music, literature, entertainment, and what passes as art these days is often completely opposed to the righteousness God expects of his people.  Can you give it up?

            I find it helps to think of it like this:  I am not giving up my culture to stand alone.  I am giving up one culture for another.  Our citizenship is in Heaven, Paul reminds us in Phil 3:20.  Just as Ruth was willing to embrace a new culture, we should too, and in that embracing we find support from those who are just like us.  We are no longer standing alone against the crowd.

            Which culture do you live in this morning?
 
But Ruth said, "Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the LORD do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you." Ruth 1:16,17.

Dene Ward

David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the LORD.” And Nathan said to David, “The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” 2Sam 12:13.

            I imagine you recognize the above scripture.  David’s statement immediately follows Nathan’s indictment, “Thou art the man.”  But do you know what immediately follows David’s confession?

            Because God through Nathan declares that David’s punishment will be the death of his child, David immediately begins a week long vigil asking God to spare his son.  “Who knows,” he says, “whether the Lord will be gracious to me that the child may live?”

            How many times have you found yourself sorrowing over a sin in your life, even after a heartfelt repentance, but then felt it presumptuous to even ask God for the smallest thing in your prayers that same day?  How many times have you said, “Not now.  I need to show some real fruit of repentance before I ask God for anything at all.”   How many times have you thought, “Surely He won’t listen to me yet?”  Or even worse, “How can God forgive me?”

            David knew better than that.  He not only recognized his sin and his utter unworthiness (Psalms 32 and 51), he recognized the riches of God’s grace.  We may sing about “Amazing Grace,” but David knew about it.  Maybe it takes just as much faith to believe about grace as it does to believe in God.  I know this:  if you deny that God will forgive you and answer your prayers, you may as well deny Him.
 
But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ— by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. Eph 2:4-7
 
Dene Ward

As morning dawned, the angels urged Lot, saying, “Up! Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, lest you be swept away in the punishment of the city.” But he lingered. So the men seized him and his wife and his two daughters by the hand, the LORD being merciful to him, and they brought him out and set him outside the city. Gen 19:15-16
 
              Here the Lord offers salvation to Lot who, by what we have previously seen, truly believes in the coming destruction and truly hates the sin in Sodom.  But what does he do?  “He lingers…”  And finally, and only because God is merciful and that probably because of Abraham (Gen 19:29), the angels grabbed them all by the hands and pulled them out of the city. 

              How many times do we linger where we have no business being, even after we know we should be gone?  Sin has a pull of its own, and if God were not pulling in the opposite direction, many of us would be gone without a fight.

              But we have talked much about sin in this short series.  How about things that are not necessarily sins?  How about those resolutions we make, not just at the New Year’s dawn, but when suddenly we realize we are not what we should be?  When a lesson suddenly slaps us in the face and we recognize our failures.  How many times have I heard things like, “I am going to start studying more.  In fact, I am going to come to your classes.”  But when reality hits, when they find out it takes work and commitment and maybe canceling a few other things that are a lot more fun, suddenly it is not a priority.

              Most of the members of my classes are older women.  Don’t tell me, “Well, they have the time.”  When we started this class almost thirty years ago, they were the young women with families, and some had jobs too.  Yet they also had their priorities in order.  It is as simple, and as damning, as that.
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              So you need to make a change of some kind, be it more study, more prayer, more service, or some other neglected virtue.  Then make it, but recognize from the get-go that you will have to leave some things behind in order to make the time.  Don’t “linger” in Sodom.  It will only make the transition more difficult. Jump in with both feet, whatever the change you want to make, and don’t look back.  Before long you will love the new you.
 
When I think on my ways, I turn my feet to your testimonies; I hasten and do not delay to keep your commandments. Ps 119:59-60
 
Dene Ward

So Lot went out and said to his sons-in-law, who were to marry his daughters, “Up! Get out of this place, for the LORD is about to destroy the city.” But he seemed to his sons-in-law to be jesting. Gen 19:14
 
            “And the second is like unto the first,” as the scripture says in another place.  Lot told his sons-in-law of the coming destruction and they laughed in his face.  I can just hear them saying, “Are you crazy, old man?” 

            And that is not the first time that accusation was wielded.  Noah comes to mind.  Maybe this reaction is even older than the one we discussed last time.  Peter warns against it in 2 Peter 3.  “Mockers” will come and make fun of your belief in a final judgment and the end of the world.  Any time you preach something that demands accountability of the sinner, you are a lunatic, an old fuddy-duddy, a spoilsport, a prude, or any of a dozen more rude epithets.  It is yet another universal and timeless attitude, another instance in which we are living in Sodom today.

           But we can ask the same question we did last time.  Has anyone called me those names lately?  Have I talked about God, my Lord, my salvation, my church family, and my hope of Heaven enough that it bothers them?  Have I mentioned Hell at all?

           God expects people to know who we are.  He does not want us hiding in plain sight.  What is important to us should be in our hearts and on our tongues.  Maybe that is the problem:  those things are not really that important to us.  Our faith is an embarrassment.  Remember what Jesus had to say about that?
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So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven. Matt 10:32-33.

           At least Lot acknowledged God, the reality of His authority over us, and our accountability to Him in the coming destruction to those sinful people.  Do we?
 
Dene Ward

What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Eccl 1:9
 
           I was reading through Genesis 19 preparing for a class on Lot’s wife and daughters when suddenly the verse above sprang to mind.  Over and over I saw things I have seen all my life and the thought came unbidden, “We are living in Sodom.” 

            No, I was not thinking about modern issues.  None of the things that I noticed in the text that afternoon had anything to do with that, at least not specifically.  In fact, the things I noticed had been happening through my entire life, even as far back as the 1960s when everyone thinks we were still innocent and relatively godly.  Let’s see if you see what I did.
 
Lot went out to the men at the entrance, shut the door after him, and said, “I beg you, my brothers, do not act so wickedly…But they said, “Stand back!” And they said, “This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge!” Gen 19:6-9
 
           Whenever any moral issue comes up, if you express any sort of disapproval--even if all you do is refuse to participate—suddenly you are accused of “judging.”  Never mind that is exactly what is done to you by this accusation.  That does not matter.  It happened all those thousands of years ago and it happens now.  People have not changed.  If you behave differently than others, you are “judging.”  No one can tolerate being seen as less than righteous, even when righteousness is the last thing on their minds.

            Since it is such a universal, and timeless, reaction, maybe we should ask ourselves this:  Has anyone accused me of being judgmental lately?  If not, why not?  Is it just that I only associate with Christians, with good moral friends and neighbors?  Or is it that I have not expressed any disapproval lately, nor refused to participate, whether it be in gossip, slander, drinking, pornography, foul language, immodest dress, or any other acts a Christian needs to abhor. 
 
           Paul said:  and have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather even reprove them; Eph 5:11.  We do a whole lot better with the first half of that command than the last.  I think it is because we do not want even the mild persecution that comes along with it.  We want to be liked—by the world.  We don’t want to be accused of “judging.”

           Even “righteous Lot” was accused of judging.  Peter says he “was greatly distressed by the conduct of the wicked” (2 Pet 2:7).  Given the rest of his life, do we really want to be viewed as less righteous than he?
 
Being filled with all unrighteousness, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malignity; whisperers, backbiters, hateful to God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, without understanding, covenant-breakers, without natural affection, unmerciful: who, knowing the ordinance of God, that they that practice such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but also consent with them that practice them. Rom 1:29-32
 
Dene Ward

He never gets any attention; she gets it all.  Any sacrifice on his part is not mentioned.  Any responsibility placed on his shoulders is not recognized.  You would think he was unnecessary to the plan, but you would be wrong.

            In a Jewish family, the man was definitely the head of the house.  He was responsible not only for providing for his family, but for their protection and their religious upbringing. This man did it all, without complaint and without receiving any glory, other than an almost casual mention.  He evidently died young and never even saw the promise come to pass, even after a lifetime of bearing ridicule or shame, depending upon who was talking about him, in order to help it happen.

            Like another Joseph before him he was the son of Jacob (Matt 1:16).  He thought he had chosen well, a young lady--very young by our standards--from a good family, also in the lineage of David.  The kiddushin had begun, the year of betrothal, and suddenly his world turned upside down.  His wife, for so his betrothed one was called though they as yet were not married, had turned up pregnant, at least three months by the time he found out.  Now what?

            He was a kind man who would not shame her, so he was ready to seek a quiet divorce (1:19), the only way to end a betrothal.  But God sent the angel Gabriel to reassure him.  Mary was not lying, she was not hallucinating.  She really was pregnant, but not by another man.  She had not been unfaithful to him.  God was the father of this unborn child, and he was putting that child’s safety and well-being into the hands of Joseph.

            So Joseph was faced with this horrible shame for the rest of his life.  Either people would think he had no self-control, that he and Mary had committed fornication as many were still saying thirty-three years later (John 8:41), or they would think he was a cuckold, too weak to put her away.  Joseph could have been consumed with pride in either case and simply said no, but he didn’t.  He took Mary as his wife.

            Almost immediately he found himself in danger of King Herod, a cruel and ruthless man who had no problem killing his own sons, much less someone else’s.  Joseph found himself fleeing to a land several hundred miles distant to save the life of a child that not only delayed his marriage but put his own life in danger, a child that was not even his.  Yet he fulfilled his duty to protect and provide, finally returning to his home town Nazareth, where all the gossips lived, and working his whole life to provide food, clothing, and shelter, and teaching this child a trade, just as if he were his own.  Somehow he managed to overlook the problems this woman had caused him, and raised a large family with her, at least four more sons and uncounted daughters (Mark 6:3).

            They tell women that men have fragile egos, that we should be careful of the things we say and do, things that might make him feel less a man.  No one watched out for Joseph’s ego.  He took it all, evidently without a word, simply because he was a righteous man who lived by faith.  He fulfilled his duty, never expecting and never receiving any glory in this life.  He took care of a child who changed the world.  He kept him safe, and helped raise him to be able to fulfill his own duty, one even harder than Joseph’s. 

            We often point out the great humility of Jesus.  Seems to me he “got it honest” as we so often say.  He had a great example in his “father.”  What kind of example are you leaving your children—that of someone who needs praise in order to feel manly, or someone who simply fulfills the obligations God has laid on his shoulders, regardless the inconvenience and pain, and whether anyone else notices or not?
 
For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned, Rom 12:3.
 
Dene Ward