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

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          We heat with wood.  A thirty-two-year-old Ashley wood stove sits in the heart of our home—the kitchen and family room area.  Our boys grew up watching their father labor with a chainsaw, axe, and splitting maul, eventually helping him load the eighteen inch lengths of wood into the pickup bed and then onto the wood racks.  Every time a friend or neighbor lost a tree or several large limbs fell, the phone rang, and the three of them set off for a Saturday’s worth of work that kept us warm for a few days and the heating bill down where we could pay it.

            At first those small boys could only carry one log at a time, and a small one at that.  Wood is heavy if still unseasoned, and always rough and unwieldy.  By the time they were 10, an armful numbered two or three standard logs, even the lighter, seasoned ones.  They were 16 or older before they could come close to their father’s armload of over half a dozen logs, and grown men before they could match him log for log.  Even that is a small amount of wood.  In a damped woodstove, it might last half the night, but on an open fire barely an hour.

            So I laugh when I see pictures of an 8-10 year old Isaac carrying four or five “sticks” up Mt Moriah behind his father Abraham.  To carry the amount of wood necessary to burn a very wet animal sacrifice, Isaac had to have been grown, or nearly so, not less than 16 or 17, and probably older and more filled out.  In fact, in the very next chapter, Genesis 23, Isaac is 37 years old.  In chapter 21, his weaning, he is somewhere between 3 and 8, probably the older end, so all we can say for certain is he is between 3 and 37 at the time of his offering.  Our experience with wood carrying tells me that he was far older than most people envision.

            Do you realize what that means?  This may well have been a test of Abraham’s faith, but it also shows that Isaac’s faith was not far behind his father’s.  He could easily have over-powered his father, a man probably two decades north of 100, and gotten away.  He, too, trusted that God would provide, even as he lay himself down on that altar and watched his father raise his hand.

            How did he know?  Because he watched God provide everyday of his life.  He saw his father’s relationship with God, heard his prayers and watched his offerings, witnessed the decisions he made every day based solely on the belief in God’s promises, and his absolute obedience even when it hurt, like sending his brother Ishmael away (Gen 21:12-14). Isaac did not know a time when his family did not trust God, so he did too.  “God will provide” made perfect sense to him.

            When that young man carried that hefty load of wood up that mountain, he went with a purpose, based upon the example of his father’s faith and his Father’s faithfulness.  Would your children be willing to carry that wood?

The living, the living, he thanks you, as I do this day; the father makes known to the children your faithfulness. Isaiah 38:19

Dene Ward

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         Have you discovered panko yet?  Panko is Japanese bread crumbs, an extra light variety that cooks up super-crunchy on things like crab cakes and shrimp.  They also cost more than regular bread crumbs, but in certain applications they are worth it.    On the other hand a chicken or veal Milanese needs a sturdier crumb to stand up to the lemony butter sauce, an oven fried pork chop needs melba toast crumbs that will cook to a crunch without burning in a high heat oven, and my favorite broccoli casserole needs the faint sweetness of a butter cracker crumb to really set it off.

            Although none of these dishes are the food of poverty, using the crumbs and crusts of food rather than tossing them out certainly grew out of the necessity of using whatever was at hand to feed hungry bellies for thousands of years, and now we all do it, even when there is plenty in the pantry.  Pies and cheesecakes with graham cracker crumb crusts, anyone?  Dressing to stuff your poultry?  Bread pudding on a cold winter night?  Streusel on that warm coffee cake in the morning?  Bread-infused peasant food has even shown up on gourmet cooking shows in the form of panzanella (salad) and ribolita (soup), both of which use chunks of stale bread to bolster their ability to satisfy appetites.

            That reminds me of a woman 2000 years ago who understood the value of leftovers.  Her little daughter was demon-possessed, so ill she could not travel, but her mother had heard of someone who might be able to help, who even then was in hiding from the crowds on the border of her country.  It took a lot for her to seek him out, first leaving her sick child in someone else’s care, then approaching this Jewish rabbi, a type who had either reviled or ignored her all her life; but a desperate mother will make any sacrifice to save her child.

            Sure enough, even though she addressed him by the Messianic title, “Son of David,” he answered her not a word, Matt 15:22,23.  Still she persisted, and this time she was insulted—he called her a dog.  Oh, he was nicer about it than most, using the Greek word for “little pet dog,” kunarion, rather than the epithet she usually heard from his kind--kuno, ownerless scavenging dogs that run wild in the streets, but still he made her inequality in his eyes obvious.

            This woman, though, was ready to accept his judgment of her, Even the dogs get the crumbs, sir.  Moreover, she understood that was all she needed.  This man, whose abilities she had heard of from afar, was more than just a man, and even the tiniest morsel of his power was enough to heal her child, even from a distance.

            Do we understand that?  Do we realize that one drop of God’s power can fix any problem we have, and more, do we have the humility to accept our place in His plan, even if it is not what we have planned?  Yes, every day I ask for more—more grace, more faith, more of His power to change me and use me, but do I really comprehend His strength?  I would say it was impossible to do so, except for the example of this desperate Gentile mother who, like a widow of her nation hundreds of years before her, had more faith, trust, and humility than the religious men of God’s chosen people (I Kgs 17, Luke 4:25,26).

            And for this, perhaps, God chose her to foreshadow in the Son’s life the crumbling of the barrier between Jew and Gentile, and the inclusive nature of the gospel which had been foretold from the beginning: in thy seed shall all nations of the earth be blessed, Gen 22:17. 

            Do I have the faith and humility to accept God’s plan for me?  One thing is certain—this Gentile mother knew she had nowhere else to turn, and neither do we.

            Even God’s crumbs are enough to satisfy our every need.

For this cause I bow my knees to the Father…that you…may be strong to apprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God…him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think…Eph 3:14, 17-20.

Dene Ward

The Lord has made everything for his own purpose, yes, even the wicked for the day of trouble, Prov 16:4.

            Think about that for awhile.  If I do not allow the Lord to use me for good, he will use me for evil instead.  I cannot refuse to be used; it’s one or the other.

            A long time ago I studied as many women in the Bible as I could find and tried to discover how they fit into the scheme of redemption.  I managed to find a use for every one of them.  Then I came to Jezebel and found myself stymied.  The only thing I could think was God used her to test his prophet Elijah, and to eventually send him back to his work in Israel with a renewed spirit. 

            I would hate to think that the only use God could find for me was as a thorn in the flesh of his righteous people, testing their faith.  So how do I avoid that?

            As in the case of Elijah, discouragement can hamper the work of God.  After what seemed like an amazing victory on Mt Carmel, Elijah awoke the next morning to find that Jezebel was still in charge and his life was still in danger.  Now Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had slain all the prophets with the sword.  Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah saying, So let the gods do to me, and more also if I make not your life as the life of one of them by tomorrow about this time.  And when Elijah saw this, he fled, 1 Kings 19:1-3.  What a let-down that must have been.          If that great victory had not changed things, what could?

            So Elijah ran away to the wilderness where he rested, where an angel fed him, and where God proved to him that Jezebel was not the one in charge, and there were still righteous people to stand with him.

            Am I just another Jezebel, discouraging God’s people in their mission?  Do I have a chip on my shoulder that makes me easily offended?  Do I sit like a spectator on the bleachers, watching and waiting for the least little thing, quick to complain, unashamed to make a scene, ready to pass judgment on every word and action, and worse, spread that slander to others?  Do I march up to the elders, the preacher, the class teachers as if they had to answer to me for anything I find disagreeable, which can be anything and everything, depending upon my mood at the moment?

            What purpose do I think that serves other than to try the patience, faith, and endurance of those who must put up with my spitefulness?  Why do I think that kind of behavior will help anyone?  Would I accept it from anyone toward me? 

            Every church I have ever been a part of has one of these thorns hidden among them.  Don’t let it be you.  Remember today that God is using you.  Make sure that everything you do and say will in some way help His plan to save the world.  Your brothers and sisters need your encouragement.  Your neighbors need your example of love and service.  That is what God expects of you—to choose to be a rose instead of a thorn.

A fool shows his annoyance at once, but a prudent man overlooks an insult.  There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing, Prov 12:16,18. 

Dene Ward

           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

“Do you love me, Peter?”

“Lord, you know I love you.”

“Feed my sheep.”

Most of us are familiar with the scene on the seashore recorded in John 21.  I think we make a lot of fuss over the word “love” in its various permutations because we have read a Greek dictionary and think we have suddenly become scholars with great insight.  In reality there is considerable disagreement about what Jesus and Peter may or may not have intended. 

However, most people agree that Jesus repeats the question three times because of Peter’s three denials.  Peter had already repented in bitter tears and was surely forgiven, but this gave him the opportunity to make amends in another, more direct way.

Peter takes a lot of grief for his failings.  I have heard many say, and have more than likely said myself, “Peter gives me hope.  If the Lord will take him, surely he will take me.”   Why do we think we are any better than Peter? 

Is it any less a denial of the Lord as the master of my life when I fail to act as He would?  Is it any less a denial when I fail to speak His word in an age of political correctness?  Is it any less a denial when I fail to follow His example in forgiving my neighbor, my brother, my spouse, or simply the other driver or shopper or the waitress or store clerk?  Is it any less a denial when my life matches the world instead of my Savior’s?  I may stand up and confess His name on Sunday morning, but it’s how I live my life the rest of the week that truly tells the story, and neither the circumstances nor the provocation matter.  All of my reactions to the circumstances of life and to other people are either a confession or a denial of Jesus as the Lord of my life.

How many times should the Lord ask me, “Do you love me?”  How many second chances do I need?  How many will I need just today?

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.  All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. Isa 53:5,6.

Dene Ward