The first time he said it I was confused.  The second time I was a little miffed. 

            “We’re going home,” Keith told someone of our upcoming visit to his parents’ house in Arkansas.

            Home?  Home was where I was, where we lived together, not someplace 1100 miles away.

            I suppose I didn’t understand because I didn’t have that sense of home.  We moved a few times when I was a child, and then my parents moved more after I married.  I never use that phrase “back home” of any place but where I live at the moment.  But a lot of people do.  I hear them talk about it often, going “back home” to reunions and homecomings, visiting the places they grew up and knew from before they could remember.

            But what was it the American author Thomas Wolfe said?  “You can’t go home again.”  Wolfe died on September 15, 1938.  His book of that title was published posthumously on September 28, 1940, and those words have come to mean that you cannot relive childhood memories.  Things are constantly changing and you will always be disappointed.

            Abraham and Sarah and the other early patriarchs did not believe that. 

            These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things make it manifest that they are seeking after a country of their own. Hebrews 11:13-14.

            That phrase “country of their own” is the Greek word for “Fatherland” or “homeland” or “native country.”  Those people believed they were headed home in the same sense that Keith talked about going back to the Ozarks.  Some question whether the people of the Old Testament believed in life after death.  They not only believed they were going to live in that promised country after death, they believed they had come from there—that it was where they belonged.

            That may be our biggest problem.  We do not understand that we belong in Heaven, that God sent us from there and wants us back, that it is the Home we are longing for, the only place that will satisfy us.  We are too happy here, too prosperous in this life, too secure on this earth. 

            Try asking someone if they want to go to Heaven.  “Of course,” they will say.  Then ask if they would like to go now and see the difference in their response.  It is good that we have attachments here, and a sense of duty to those people.  It is not good when we see those attachments as far better than returning to our homeland and our Father and Brother.  Paul said, For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. But if to live in the flesh, - if this shall bring fruit from my work, then what I shall choose I know not. But I am in a strait between the two, having the desire to depart and be with Christ; for it is very far better: yet to abide in the flesh is more needful for your sake. Philippians 1:21-24.   Paul knew the better choice.  Staying here for the Philippians’ sake was a sacrifice to him, a necessary evil.

            Heaven isn’t supposed to be like an all-expenses-paid vacation away from home—it’s supposed to be Home—the only Home that matters.

            How do you view Heaven?  The way you see it may just make the difference in how easy or difficult it is for you to get there.

 
Being therefore always of good courage, and knowing that, while we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord (for we walk by faith, not by sight); we are of good courage, I say, and are willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be at home with the Lord, 2 Corinthians 5:6-8.

Dene Ward

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            Did you see the video going around of the mother goose leading her babies up a set of two stone steps somewhere in an urban center?  (She might have been a duck, but I am not a poultry expert and it suits my purposes here to call her a goose.)  Those steps were twice as high as those goslings.  At first the mother waddled on, but soon she realized she was alone so she returned to the steps and watched as each baby leapt to the top of the next step over and over and over—and usually fell back.  It took no less than five or six tries per step for each one, and some many more.  The last little fellow almost had it but then fell onto his back, exhausted.  Did he give up?  No, he got up and kept on trying, and finally, several minutes after all the others had made it, he got to the top of the second step and ran to his mother, who then turned and led her tiny gaggle across the plaza.

            That mother had it easier than you and I do.  She had no hands and arms to be tempted to reach out and help.  All she could do was patiently wait, honking her encouragement.  Too many times we use those hands and arms when we shouldn’t, thinking we are doing the right thing, and our children grow up emotionally frail in the process, with a warped sense of their place in the world—usually the center, they think.

            What would have happened if you had never let go of those little hands as your toddler tried his first steps?  What would have happened if, when he tried to climb, you always came along, picked him up and put him where he was trying to go?  What would happen now if every time something wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it, you came along and made it that way?  Sooner or later he must find out that the world does not run to his schedule not his set of likes and dislikes, and the earlier he learns that the less painful it will be for all of you.

            In his work, Keith has come across many young people who finally found out that their parents could not get them out of trouble as they were hauled off to prison in manacles.  Once, a nineteen-year-old probationer thought he could bypass some of the rules of his sentence, namely his officer checking to see if he was home where he belonged, because “I have a mean dog.”

            “Lock him up,” Keith said.  “That’s your responsibility because I will be doing my job, which is your punishment for your crime.  If you don’t, I have authority to stop the dog any way it takes.”

            “Bbbbbbut you can’t hurt my dog,” he blubbered.

            “YOU will be hurting your dog,” his officer told him, and finally got through.  He did the crime because he thought he could get away with it—mama and daddy had always gotten him out of trouble before.  Now he had to pay the consequences.  I wonder if his parents ever did make him do something he did not want to do as a child. 

            God gave those goslings a goose, a mother who would stand there and patiently wait while her children tried and learned and grew stronger even with their failures.  He gave a goose who would honk her encouragement when they fell flat on their backs, urging them with “love” to get up and try again.

            Some parents don’t have the sense God gave a goose when they raise their children.  What do you think will happen if you fix every problem and adjust every situation to their liking?  As adults they will be persistently dissatisfied and miserable, or constantly in trouble and probably devoid of true friends who are tired of always having to do things their way.  Certainly love them, but “learn” to love them in the hard things (Titus 2:4).  Teach them, discipline them, tell them they can do it and cheer them on.  Add a more “tactile” form of exhortation when necessary.  Give them words of encouragement, of admonishment, of rebuke, of love.  That is why God gave them parents instead of a goose.

Hear, O sons, a father's instruction, and be attentive, that you may gain insight, for I give you good precepts; do not forsake my teaching…My son, be attentive to my words; incline your ear to my sayings. Let them not escape from your sight; keep them within your heart. Proverbs 4:1-2,20-21

Dene Ward

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Neither will I offer burnt offerings unto Jehovah my God which cost me nothing.

            2 Samuel 24 relates the numbering of the Israelites as commanded by David.  To make a long story short, this sin caused a pestilence sent from God as punishment.  God then told David to offer up a sin offering at a threshing floor owned by Araunah. 

            Aranauh saw the king’s entourage headed his way and went out to greet them, wondering what he could do for his king.  When David explained and asked to buy the property so he could offer the sacrifice, Araunah said, “Oh no, lord.  Everything is yours for the taking, including the oxen for the burnt offering.”

            Then David uttered those words above, “I will not offer burnt offerings to the Lord which cost me nothing.”  It isn’t worship, David meant, when it isn’t mine to give.  It isn’t worship when it’s an extra I keep on the shelf for emergencies.  It isn’t worship if it isn’t something I need for myself.  Service to God should cost me something.

            I wonder what David would say were he alive today.  I bet I know some things he would not say.

            “We have a gospel meeting this week?  I’ll go if it’s convenient.”

            “The price of gas has gotten too steep to make that extra Bible study this week.”

            “That’s just too early for me to have to get up in the morning.”

            “It’s a song service tonight?  I don’t like to sing anyway.”

            “It’s on the way to my activity, so I can stop by the hospital for a quick visit, otherwise...”

            “My neighbor mentioned wanting to ask me about some problems he is having, and I wanted to watch that ball game.  Maybe tomorrow night.”

            It doesn’t have to be inconvenient to count as service; if it did, the most pious time to assemble would be 2:00 AM.  However, if convenient service is all we ever give, you wonder if it truly deserves that description, “service.”

            Did you ever offer assistance and have someone say, “Well, only if it isn’t any trouble?”  Have you said it yourself?  Don’t deny someone the right to “pay” for the offerings they give.  It is often trouble to help someone out—it’s supposed to be!  How much trouble they go to for someone else is a measure of their commitment to the Lord (Matt 25: 40).  The same standard is a measure of your commitment as well. 

            Since we do operate our assemblies on a system of expedients, it is too easy to think that everything should be convenient.  Surely God doesn’t really expect our service to Him to cost us time, money, or pleasures and recreation that are good and wholesome.  We may understand the concept of sacrificial giving on the first day of the week, but how much do we understand the concept of sacrificial giving every day of our lives?

            Because of all He has done for me, I should be willing and anxious to say, “I will not offer to the Lord that which costs me nothing.”

Wherefore, receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us have grace, whereby we may offer service well-pleasing to God with reverence and awe: for our God is a consuming fire. Heb 12:28,29.

Dene Ward

I am getting tired of this.  Too many times lately I have heard that we should not worry about the examples left to us in God’s word—we can’t do it anyway.  It’s just a bunch of idealism.  We should be content with what we can do so our self-esteem won’t suffer; so we won’t have to deal with guilt; so we won’t push ourselves beyond our limits.  We should stop looking to Biblical role models and just be ourselves.

            Maybe it’s the generation I came from.  Maybe it’s the family work ethic I grew up with.  I can just hear my grandmothers both saying, “If you have time to whine, you have time to do a little more work.” 

            Those women just did what had to be done, when it had to be done, how it had to be done, and never expected praise for it.  They never suffered a lack of self-esteem either.  They were both happy women, content with their lots in life despite the real sweat they sweated and the long hours they kept, both in the home and in the workplace.  One grandmother, widowed from her 40s, was still walking to work in her 70s.  In Florida.  Even in the summer.  If you had told them they were strong women, they would have laughed in your face.

            I am tired of having Biblical examples held up as impossible.  I am tired of hearing how we should just ignore them and not worry about being like them, because we can’t anyway.  God has always given His people examples to follow.  Moses, Aaron, Miriam, Abraham, Samuel, and David were always held up for the Israelites to emulate throughout the chronicles, the psalms and the prophets.  What?  Should He have given them a reprobate to imitate?

            The Hebrew writer gives us a whole list of people to model ourselves after.  And guess what?  Not a one of them was perfect—yet they all did at least one amazing act of faith, something we probably think we “just can’t do.”  Shall we ignore them because, after all, God would not want us to experience a feeling of failure? 

            Paul told the Corinthians in 1 Cor 11:1 to follow his example.  Yes, it was a specific example the context of which begins in chapter 8, but still—can we imitate Paul at all?  Or shall we claim disability and dispense with his advice?  “After all, we’re not Paul…”

            I am tired of having women who began in the depths of sin held up as the example to follow as if they had never changed.  Jesus told the adulterous woman in John 8, “Go thy way and sin no more.”  Wasn’t that an impossible task?  But I bet that forgiven woman tried to accomplish it a whole lot harder than we do and succeeded far better for the trying. 

            If we are asking too much of people to strive for the ideal, then how could Peter have ever written:  For to this you have been called because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example so that you might follow in his steps, 1 Pet 2:21.  How could Paul have said we are to be “conformed to the image of His son,” Rom 8:29; and “walk in love as Christ loved us” Eph 5:2; and “Have this mind in you which was also in Christ” Phil 2:5?  How could John have dared write “If we abide in him we should walk as he walked” 1 John 2:6?

            Certainly following Christ’s example perfectly is a difficult task.  But tell me, how can you ever become better if the goal you have set before yourself is easily attainable?  If I wanted to become a long distance runner, surely my goal should be something more than running down to the mailbox and back—even my mailbox which is nearly half a mile away.  Surely if it is frustrating to model ourselves after a high example, we should avoid using the Lord as one.  That is what follows from the logic I have been hearing lately:  the only thing that will come from me trying to be like my Lord is self-doubt and feelings of unworthiness, so I shouldn’t even try.

            God must think otherwise.  He places high expectations in front of us, and He expects us to use them as goals, not ignore them because they are impossible.  Do you know why?  Because He gives us the tools to reach them.

            1 Pet 4:11—We serve by the “strength which God supplies,” not what we supply.

            Eph 3:20—His power “works in us;” His power, not ours.

            2 Tim 3:17—He equips us “for every good work;” not just the ones we find easy.

            God does expect a lot from us.  Here is the key:  stop picking at it like a sore.  Just do what is set before you every day, that much and no more.  If you have time to sit down and cry about it, you’re wasting one of the few precious commodities you can control, and that for only the moment.  Remember where your power comes from, and do not doubt it for an instant. 

            Will it be easy?  No—maybe that is another one of our problems.  We expect God to make it comfortable.  We expect it to be fun.  We expect it to never hurt.  We think if we have to sweat it isn’t fair.  God never promised any of that.  He did promise all the help we could possibly need.

            Here is where you find your sense of self-worth:  not in what you alone can do, but in recognizing that with a loving Father’s help, you can do more than you ever dreamed possible.

 And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work, 2 Corinthians 9:8.

Dene Ward

            Now, now--I can see those eyebrows.  No, I don’t know her name, but I sure know a lot about her, and so do you, if you think about it.

            We need to start back a few generations.  Luke tells us that Mary and Elizabeth were close relatives, 1:36.  If one is from the tribe of Judah, a descendant of David, and the other a “daughter of Aaron” from the tribe of Levi, how could they be “close?”      
           
            Under the Jewish system, unless there were no sons to inherit property, daughters were allowed to marry outside their tribe and were absorbed into their husbands’ tribes.  Luke’s genealogy shows that Mary was a direct descendant of David.  Yet he also says she was a “near kinswoman” of Elizabeth, a “daughter of Aaron.”  For Elizabeth to be past child-bearing age, she must have been at least two generations older than Mary, the same generation as Mary’s grandmother.  Thus it is likely that a sister from the previous generation married into the tribe of Levi, the family of Aaron.  The mother of those two earlier sisters must have been a righteous woman to raise two daughters who then raised yet more generations of righteous Jews, one of whom bore John the forerunner of the Messiah, and another the grandmother of the Messiah himself.

            This brings us to the woman in question—Jesus’ grandmother.  We know she had at least two daughters, Mary being the more famous.  Now get a sheet of paper, if your mind needs to see this in black and white like mine usually does.  Read Matt 27:56, Mark 15:40, and John 19:25.  List the women who stood at the cross and start matching them up.  Matthew says they were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.  Mark says they were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the Less and Joses, and Salome.  John says that besides Jesus’ mother Mary, they were Mary Magdalene, Mary the wife of Cleopas (or Clopas or Cleophas), and Jesus’ mother’s sister.

            Look how much you learn from such a simple exercise.  Besides finding yet another Mary, we find out that James the Less had a brother named Joses.  We find out that his father Alphaeus (Matt 10:3) was also called Cleopas.  He was probably the Cleopas on the road to Emmaus in Luke 24:18.

            More to the point, we find out that James and John, the sons of Zebedee, were also the sons of Salome, and that she was Mary’s sister.  If John were the “baby cousin,” no wonder he was especially dear to Jesus.  This might also mollify any bad feelings some have toward Salome.  She really wasn’t all that presumptuous.  She was His aunt after all, and her sons were Jesus’ only blood relatives among the apostles.  Why not think they should be His first and second lieutenants? 

            So following those righteous women down the line we have one branch of the distant family bringing about the Forerunner of the Messiah, the Elijah of the New Testament, a martyr for the Lord’s cause.  In the other branch we have two twigs, one bringing forth the Messiah, the writers of two epistles (James and Jude, two of Jesus’ brothers) and an elder in the Jerusalem church (the same James); and the other bearing two of the apostles, one of whom would be the first apostle martyred (James in Acts 12) and the other who would write one gospel, three epistles, and the final Revelation—the apostle John.

            I have often thought of Mary and her dilemma when she discovered that she would be a pregnant virgin.  At that point she was a young teenager, poor and unmarried.  Imagine having to tell her parents.  Would you believe your daughter?  Of course, in this age things like that no longer happen, but when was the last miracle these people had seen?  How long had they been living with the promise of a Messiah who had yet to come?  They knew how they had raised their daughter.  They knew she was telling the truth.  Or maybe God “helped” them know as He helped Joseph, and their faith kept them strong through what must have been a difficult and awkward time with the rest of the community.

            I wonder if God could find such a family today, especially one whose righteousness He could count on to continue through several generations.  What about the family I raised?  What about yours?  What will happen two or three generations from now?  Did we give our children enough ammunition to fight Satan that long?

            One of the reasons God said he could trust Abraham, one of the reasons he was chosen was I have known him to the end that he may command his children and his household after him, that they may keep the way of Jehovah to do righteousness and justice to the end that Jehovah may bring upon Abraham that which he has spoken to him, Gen. 18:19.

            Jesus grandparents and great-grandparents, poor, uneducated by our standards, and living in a vassal nation, still accomplished what even the wealthiest and most powerful could not.  They probably never knew the end result during their lifetimes. We may never know what our efforts have accomplished either, but it may be something wonderful.  Don’t ever think that teaching your children won’t matter to the rest of the world.  Your influence, for good or bad, could go on for generations.

 

Therefore we said, Let us now build an altar, not for burnt offering, nor for sacrifice, but to be a witness between us and you and between our generations after us, that we do perform the service of the Lord in his presence with our burnt offerings and sacrifices and peace offerings, so your children will not say to our children in time to come, “You have no portion in the Lord,” Josh 22:26,27.

Dene Ward

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            When I was 14 a new young doctor came to town, one who was not afraid to “think outside the box.”  My older doctor turned me over to him and he decided to try contact lenses on me.  I had been wearing coke bottle glasses since I was 4 and my vision declined steadily year after year with the bottoms of the coke bottles getting thicker and thicker.

            In those days, hard, nonporous contact lenses were all they had.  Usually they were the size of fish scales.  Mine were not any broader in circumference but they were still as thick as miniature coke bottle bottoms and nearly as heavy on my eyes.  Most people who wore normal lenses could only tolerate them for six to eight hours.  Now add a cornea shaped like the end of a football, a corrugated football at that, and these things were not meant to be comfortable on my eyes, certainly not for the 16-18 hours a day I had to wear them.

            So why did I do it?  My prescription was +17.25.  The doctor told me there was no number on the chart for my vision.  (“Chart?  What chart?  I don’t see any chart.”)  He said if there were, it would be something like 20/10,000, a hyperbole I am sure, but it certainly made the point.  Hard contacts were my only hope.  If they could stabilize my eyesight, I would last a bit longer.  When I was 20, another doctor told me I would certainly have been totally blind by then if not for those contact lenses.

            Then soft contact lenses were invented and their popularity grew.  But they were not for me.  They would not have stabilized my vision.  I lost count of the number of times people who wore soft lenses said to me, “I tried those hard ones, but I just could not tolerate them.  You are so lucky you can wear them.”

            Luck had nothing to do with it.  My young doctor was smart.  He sat me down and said, “The only way you will be able to do this with these eyes is to really want to.  You must make up your mind that you will do it no matter what.”  That was quite a burden to place on a fourteen year old, but his tactics worked.  Despite the discomfort, I managed, and managed so well that most people never knew how uncomfortable I was.  Finally, when what seemed like the 1000th person told me they just could not tolerate hard lenses, I said, “You didn’t need them badly enough.”  Most of us can do much more than we ever thought possible when we really have to.

            Need is a strong motivation.  A couple of thousand years ago, it motivated a woman to go where she was not expected, normally not even allowed, and certainly not wanted. 

            Simon the Pharisee decided to have Jesus for dinner.  I read that it was the custom of the day for the leading Pharisee in the town to have the distinguished rabbi over for a meal when he sojourned there.  While the man would invite his friends to eat the meal, an open door policy made it possible for any interested party to come in and stand along the wall to listen--any interested man, that is.  Of course, it was assumed that only righteous men would be interested.

            In walked a “sinful” woman.  Luke, in chapter 7, uses a word that does not in itself imply any specific sin, but it was commonly used by that society to refer to what they considered the lowest of sinners, publicans and harlots.  The mere fact that she was a woman also caused someone in the crowd to exclaim, “Look!  A woman!” in what we assume was horrified shock.

            The men were all lying around a low table with their bodies resting on a couch and their feet turned away from the table in the direction of the wall, while their left elbows rested on the table.  The woman came into the room, walked around the wall, and began crying over Jesus’ feet.  Immediately, she knelt to wipe his feet with her hair.  I am told that this too was unacceptable.  “To unbind and loosen the hair in public before strangers was considered disgraceful and indecent for a woman,” commentator Lenski says.  We later discover that these were dirty, dusty feet from walking unpaved roads in sandals.  How do we know?  Because Simon did not even offer Jesus the customary hospitable foot washing. 

            Then she took an alabaster cruse of ointment, a costly gift, and anointed his feet—not just a token drop or two, but the entire contents--once the cruse was broken open, it was useless as a storage container.

            What did Simon do?  Nothing outward, but Jesus knew what he thought, and told him a story. 

            One man owed a lender 500 shillings, and another owed him 50.  Both were forgiven their debts when they could not pay.  Who, Jesus asked him, do you think was the most grateful?  The one who owed the most, of course, Simon easily answered.

            And so by using his own prejudices against him, Jesus proved that Simon himself was less grateful to God than this sinful woman.  His own actions, or lack thereof toward Jesus was the proof.  This man, like so many others of his party, was completely satisfied with himself and where he stood before God.  And that satisfaction blinded him to his own need, for truly no one can stand before God in his own righteousness.  His gratitude suffered because he did not feel his need.  Would he have gone into a hostile environment and lowered himself to do the most menial work a servant could do, and that in front of others?  Hardly.

            So how much do I think I need the grace of God?  The answer is the same one to how far I will go to get it, how much I will sacrifice to receive it, and how much pain I will put up with for even the smallest amount to touch my life.  Am I a self-satisfied Simon the Pharisee, more concerned with respectability than with his own need for forgiveness, or a sinful woman, who probably took the deepest breath of her life and walked into a room full of hostile men because she knew it was her only chance at Life? 

And turning to the woman, he said unto Simon, See this woman? I entered into your house; you gave me no water for my feet: but she has wet my feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss: but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss my feet.  My head with oil you did not anoint: but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  So I say unto you, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  And he said unto her, Your sins are forgiven… Your faith has saved you; go in peace, Luke 7:44-48,50.

Dene Ward

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            We too often impose our standards, our culture, our way of life on those people who lived thousands of years ago in a place far removed in both custom and time.  I have often heard that if Bathsheba had only been a modest woman, David would never have fallen, making her the primary offender, an evil seductress who brought down a man of God.  When I did some study, then placed myself in the correct time frame and civilization, I learned a thing or two, and today I am going to be brave enough to share it with you.

            First, there was no running water in those days.  Now that may seem so obvious as to be ridiculous to mention, but it changes the customs.  I discovered in books about social customs in Bible times that it was not at all uncommon for people to bathe outdoors in good weather.  Homes had center courtyards and screens were set up to shield the bathers from the eyes of those in the house and on the street.  The sexes bathed separately, the women at the same time, then the men.  I know that I can still find today people who bathed on the back porch of their homes before they had running water and an indoor bathroom.  They took appropriate precautions for modesty too, and were never censured for their actions.  Likewise, Bathsheba’s actions were socially acceptable and appropriate.  There were probably other homes where the same thing was happening.  David was the only one at fault here.  No one could shield the bathers from someone on a rooftop.  Society expected men to be “on their honor.”  If their actions put them in a place they did not belong, it was up to them to leave, just as it would be today if a man accidentally wandered into a ladies’ room by mistake.

            Here is another thing we always miss.  In those days young women were married off at puberty.  The Law made it extremely difficult for a woman who was at all fertile not to conceive soon and often (Lev 15:19-28).  Uriah and Bathsheba still had no children and we know in hindsight that Bathsheba was able to conceive.  I believe that makes a good case for Bathsheba being very young, probably still a teenager.  So the king calls for you—not just any king, but the country’s hero, a warrior king, and a man over 40 by the way.  Even if she were 18 or 19, even if she were 25, the intimidation factor had to be huge.  Unless you are a woman over 50 who was sexually harassed by a boss back in the days when turning a man in was not common, when it was, in fact, not quite acceptable, don’t even talk to me about how Bathsheba should have had the courage to say no.  You cannot possibly understand how she must have felt.  Yes, I have been there.

            When you really study the situation and think about it in its proper time frame and cultural setting, the higher probability is that Bathsheba was not a temptress.  More likely, she was a scared young woman who probably felt she had no choice.  As it turns out, David was capable of murder, and she was the one looking into his eyes, not us.

            Or perhaps there was some ego involved.  David was the king and he was handsome. Maybe that excited her, but even if that is true, that intimidation factor just will not go away—David was the final authority in the land.  And this was a man who was so cold-blooded about it that he checked to make sure she was “clean” by the Law’s standards before he even touched her. 

            My problems with Bathsheba have more to do with her naiveté.  This was a woman who, though she lived in a political milieu, was totally ignorant of how things worked.  Her affair with David was just the first time we see this trait, and though we might understand it then if she were indeed a very young teenager, it never seemed to get any better, no matter how long she lived in the palace.

            Read the first few chapters of 1 Kings.  David is dying and Adonijah is conniving to take the throne, even though it has been promised to her son Solomon.  It takes Nathan the prophet to wake her up to what is going on right under her nose.  Then a few verses later, after David is dead and Solomon is king, Adonijah asks her for Abishag.  Abishag was probably the last of David’s concubines.  Everyone in the kingdom knew that claiming a king’s wife was a claim to the throne.  That is what Absalom did in the sight of all after he ran David out of the country.  But Bathsheba takes the request to Solomon as if it were a simple matter of a request from brother to brother.  Solomon understands immediately that his kingdom, God’s kingdom, is in danger and has Adonijah killed.  Bathsheba should have known too.

            So we are back once again to Jesus’ command that we are to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.  This is not just a matter of learning to study better and being careful not to place our own values on a time and place far removed from us, making judgments that may not be valid.  There is something to be learned from Bathsheba’s behavior, though perhaps not the behavior we always condemn.  God is not pleased when we act like simpletons, when we fail to see the obvious.  He will not save us when we fall into traps that should have been avoided. 

            Bathsheba did become a faithful wife to David.  She did see to his wishes when he became old and physically unable to, even if it did take a nudge from Nathan.  Maybe after Adonijah was executed she finally gained a little wisdom in the affairs of her world.  It certainly took her long enough.

Brothers, be not children in your thinking.  Be infants in evil, but in your thinking be mature, 1 Cor 14:20.

Dene Ward

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            Had anyone ever the right to shout, “At last! He got his,” it was David at the death of Saul.  It would seem appropriate for David to dance a jig on Saul’s grave and remove his name from the inscriptions and history books.  Instead, David mourned and fasted the rest of the day and then raised a heartfelt lament for Saul and Jonathan. Jonathan was his friend, but Saul had personally tried to kill him at least twice.  Further he had repeatedly led the armies of Israel after David when those armies were desperately needed to fight the Philistines.  

            To call Saul a brother in error does disservice to the concept of brother on every level except the most remote biological one which cannot be denied.  Saul offered the sacrifice against the commandments of God.  Saul refused to obey God to destroy the Amalekites.  Saul with brute force refused to yield to God’s right to remove him from the kingship.  Saul neglected all the duties of a King to pursue God’s anointed.  When God refused to answer him, he went to a necromancer to summon up the ghost of Samuel in brazen defiance of God.  Surely, here is a man who has yielded every right to treatment as a brother (2Sam 1, 1Sam 15, 28).

            In his first official act as king, David questioned the Amalekite who had completed Saul’s failed suicide attempt, “How is it you were not afraid to put out your hand to destroy the LORD’s anointed?”  Then, he ordered him executed.   Jehovah’s anointed--REALLY? After all that Saul had done?

            How quickly we cut off a brother in error, declare him to be out of fellowship.  Do we forget that God chose this one and anointed him as His child?  

            David played and sang for Saul to comfort him in the torments that resulted from his sin.  Did we do aught for our brother who has sinned?  David could have rejoiced, “At last! At last, God has given me what He promised and removed this rebellious sinner.”  How many laments and prayers did we offer for the one who erred?  

            David tried again and again to comfort Saul and had to dodge spears for his thanks.  What did we risk for the erring before we wrote him off?

             Some so-called “defenders of the faith” seem to have the mindset to seek erring brethren simply to attack and destroy before they might harm the body of Christ.  Is that the admonition from this thing written aforetime for our learning? (Rom 15:4).

Keith Ward