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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

I married a firebug and raised two more.  All the camping we have done, I am sure, was just an excuse to build and sit around campfires, and since we moved to the country we have had a fire pit from the beginning.  Once the weather began to turn, we kept the hot dog and marshmallow industries in business almost single-handedly, sometimes with all the trimmings—chili, beans, slaw—other times with just a bag of chips on the side.  After the boys went away to college, any weekend they came home, they expected a hot dog roast at least once.  From October to April my grocery list always included those all-American sausages, “Nathan’s” hot dogs, of course.

Now that the boys are gone, Keith still likes to build a fire on cool nights.  Our partially wooded property always produces enough deadfall to keep the fires going, and even here in Florida, the weather is cool enough to make a fire pleasant, rotating yourself like a rotisserie, warming each side in turn. 

Keith will often throw a carefully collected and dried pile of Spanish moss on the flame.  At first the fire appears smothered, but the heat gradually burns through, producing thick billows of gray smoke that seem almost tactile, finally burning clear and shooting sparks and cinders up toward the sky.  We lean our heads on the lawn chair backs to see which will travel highest and glow longest before burning out in the cold blackness above the treetops.

Do you realize that is all an atheist believes life is? We are cinders in a bonfire.  Some of us simply dissolve in the fire.  Others rise on the updraft, some burning higher, larger, and longer than others, but burning out nonetheless, just like everyone else.  How can they survive believing this is all there is to it?  Some use that as an excuse to do whatever they want, regardless of who it hurts and the harm it causes.  Even then, as they grow older and realize the brevity of life, the pointlessness of it all takes its toll.  When a wicked man dies, his hope perishes; all he expected from his power comes to nothing, Prov 11:7.

But children of God know better. We are not just nameless cinders in the updraft of a brief blaze.  We have not only an eternal existence to look forward to, but a purpose here as well.  Very few of us will rise high enough and burn long enough for many to notice and fewer to remember, but we can all give warmth and light in a cold, dark world.  Maybe working so hard that we dissolve in the flame without ever rising above it is the better end.  How much warmth and light did you ever get out of a single spark anyway?

What are your plans for today?  Are you so busy you get tired just thinking about it?  And at what?  Is it something that will warm someone’s heart and light their way?  Even things that don’t seem likely can be made into an opportunity to do good.  If they cannot, maybe we should think twice about doing them.  We are all sparks in the fire, or else we are just trying to put it out.

You are the light of the world.  A city set on a hill cannot be hid.  Neither do men light a lamp and put it under a bushel, but on the stand, and it shines unto all who are in the house.  Even so let your light shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven, Matt 5:14-16.

Dene Ward

            If you read through the histories of the early church, especially during the persecutions, you will see that everyone found the behavior of Christians totally inexplicable.  Despite pain and death, they never acted the way people expected them to act.  They did not denounce their Savior, and the ones who survived did not try to avenge their mistreatment.

            God’s people did not suddenly become pliant and merciful in the first century.  It began long before.  David is a prime example in his careful treatment of Saul, a mad king who was out to destroy him.  Maybe that is where the little maiden learned her first lessons about mercy.

            We do not know exactly when, how, or where, but a band of Syrian soldiers raided an Israelite town and took many people captive, among them a little girl.  Eventually she wound up in the home of Naaman, the captain of the very army who kidnapped her and possibly even killed members of her family, serving his wife.  I don’t know how old she was, but she was probably far older in mind and actions than children her age nowadays because of what she had been through.  She was old enough to remember her homeland and to know about the power of God and his prophet Elisha.

            Soon she discovered that her new master had leprosy, a disease so dreaded in her own country that the people who had it were sent away and quarantined.  What would you have thought?  “Good!  Serves him right.  Get him, God.”  I can easily see those thoughts going through my mind, especially if the last view I had of my home was painted with the blood of my family.  What was the last thing you wanted to “get even” with someone about?  Can it even hold a candle to what this girl must have experienced?

            But no, she tells her mistress, Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy, 2 Kings 5:3.

            Excuse me?  This man is an enemy of God’s people, at that time a physical kingdom with physical enemies.  God’s standing orders often included wiping out those enemies.  Yet she wants to save this man, who could easily kill more of God’s children?  She was obviously too young to know what she was doing.

            But Elisha wasn’t.  And God certainly knew whom he was healing as Naaman dipped himself into the Jordan River.  This was no mistake caused by a naïve child.  The mercy she showed was exactly what God wanted of her.

            And so the unexpected result, mercy from a captive toward her captor, made for yet another unexpected result.  Naaman, the heathen army captain, said, Behold now I know that there is no God in all the earth, but in Israel, v 15.

            Sometimes in our zeal to fight for God, we forget that He knows best.  When will we ever learn that with God, we should expect the unexpected?

You have heard that it was said, you shall love your neighbor, and hate your enemy: but I say unto you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you; that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven: for he makes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.  For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the publicans the same?  And if you salute your brethren only, what do you more?  Do not even the Gentiles the same?  You therefore shall be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect, Matt 5:43-48.

Dene Ward

Because of double sessions in the later years, I missed them in high school, but I did have one year in a small town where grades 7-12 were packed into the same school.  Every Friday afternoon during football season, our three afternoon classes were each cut 10 minutes short so we could meet for the final thirty minutes of the day in the gym, cheer with the cheerleaders and their shaking pompoms, clap along with the band until our eardrums nearly burst and our hearts beat in rhythm with the bass drums, and get a gander at those beefy young men—16, 17, 18 years old, bigger than even my own daddy.  As a chubby, frizzy-haired 12 year old, it was the closest thing to a riot I ever experienced.  We all yelled and screamed and applauded and hooted at renditions of the opposing team mascot.  We were going to win, we were sure, and we screamed, “We will WIN, WIN, WIN, WIN,” till we all went home hoarse and hyped up on school spirit.

Sometimes we won, sometimes we lost, but we all showed up again Monday morning, bleary-eyed and less than thrilled to be in our first classes of the day, a long week ahead of us and all thought of football and “Our Great School!” a distant memory.  Pep rallies have their place, but if emotion is all that keeps the spirit going, it isn’t much of a heart is it?

Elijah found that out on Mt Carmel.  Everyone pictures this great contest as his ultimate victory, perhaps the biggest in the prophet’s life.  They forget to turn the page in their Bibles. 

Yes, the crowd saw an amazing miracle.  The prophets of Baal called all day to a deaf god made of metal.  They tried to get his attention with loud cries, with dancing and with self-mutilation.  No one answered. 

Elijah on the other hand, made the request as difficult as possible, soaking the sacrifice and the wood and filling up a trench with water till it overflowed.  Did you ever wonder what those poor three-year-drought-stricken people thought as all that water ran off onto the ground?  But none of it mattered when Jehovah sent fire from Heaven that licked it all up in a flash, and consumed the sacrifice.

Then the pep rally began in earnest.  The people fell on their faces and said, The Lord, he is God.  The Lord he is God, 1 Kgs 18:39.  Can’t you hear it now?  The chant probably continued on, over and over and over, louder and louder, as Elijah called for the prophets of Baal and slew them all.  The exhilaration he felt must have been amazing.  “We did it, Lord!” he must have thought.  “Finally your people realize that you are the one true God and they will worship you again.”

Turn the page. 

Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, "So may the gods do to me and more also, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by this time tomorrow." Then he was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life...1 Kings 19:1-3.

Our assemblies have a small element of the pep rally in them.  It is good to cheer one another on, in the same way the men of Antioch laid their hands on Saul and Barnabas, prayed, and sent them on their first preaching trip, Acts 13:1-3.  It is wonderful to encourage a weak soul who has come to us for help.  It fills the heart to sing praises to God and to commune with one another around the Lord’s Table.

Yet Paul does not spend much time on that emotional aspect of our assemblies in 1 Cor 14, about the clearest picture we have of a first century assembly.  Instead, his constant reminder is “Let all things be done unto edifying,” v 26.  It is, he said, the only thing truly profitable, v 6.  Paul understood that the pep rally aspect of an assembly wouldn’t last beyond the echo of the amen, but good solid teaching would carry one through life.

If your idea of “getting something out of the services” is that excited, heart-pounding feeling that comes with emotion instead of deeper insight into the Word of God through good teaching and hard study, you are stuck in high school.  Mature people can remain motivated without the hype.  The understanding wrought by hours spent with God in quiet runs deep in their hearts. It keeps them encouraged when times are rough, wise when Satan does his best to deceive, and controlled when temptation pulls every string and pushes every button.

Pep rally religion doesn’t last, but the Word of God in one’s heart abides forever.

Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth." What shall I do with you, O Ephraim? What shall I do with you, O Judah? Your love is like a morning cloud, like the dew that goes early away...For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings...If you abide in my Word, you are truly my disciples,  Hosea 6:3-6; John 8:31.

Dene Ward

I’ve seen it all my life, everywhere I’ve ever been—a brand of false teaching that even the best of us participate in, that even the best of us fall prey to.

Over and over we teach people to follow the examples of Herod and Herodias, of Ahab and Jezebel, of practically every evil king ever mentioned in the Bible.  We teach that example and we follow it ourselves.  The examples of Simon and David are left ignored, at least in that one area.  What am I talking about?  How to accept correction, how to appreciate the one who loves us enough to rebuke us or try to teach us better. 

What did Simon the sorcerer say when Peter rebuked him? “Pray for me that none of the things that you have spoken may come upon me.”  Simon was only interested in being right before God, not in saving face or somehow turning the rebuke back on Peter because he was so angry or hurt by it.

What did David say when Nathan stung him with the simple words “Thou art the man,” and followed it with a horrifying list of punishments, including the death of a child?  “I have sinned against the Lord.” And what did he do later?  He named a son after Nathan (1 Chron 3:5).  Every time he saw that child for the rest of his life, he was reminded of his namesake, the man who rebuked him and prophesied such devastating punishment.  All you have to do is read his penitent psalms to understand David’s attitude.  He was grateful to Nathan, not angry; heartbroken over his sin and joyful that God would even consider forgiving him.

Simon and David set the bar high for us, a brand new Gentile convert and a king who could have lopped off his accuser’s head at a word. Yet how often are we counseled to follow their examples?  Instead, we are coddled by people who blame the rebuker for being so hard.  Never have I heard anyone say the kinds of things that Peter and Nathan said.  “Your money perish with you.”  “You are in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity.”  “Your heart is not right before God.”  “You have despised the word of God.” 

What examples do we teach instead?  We may not throw people into prison for their words as Ahab and Herod did, but we isolate them from others by spreading tales of “how mean they were to me,” allowing their name and reputation to be chewed up in the rumor mills.  We may not have them murdered as Herodias and Jezebel did, but we do a fine job of character assassination.  We follow faithfully in their evil steps and teach others to do the same when we pat them on the back and agree with their assessment of the one who dared tell them they were wrong.  In other words, we do it out of “love.”  I imagine Herod said the same as he turned the prison key on John, and then signed off on the death warrant.

Why is this example of how to accept correction so neglected?  Why do we reinforce the examples of evil people instead?  Is it because someday it might be us receiving that rebuke?  Someday it might be our turn to feel the hot embarrassment spreading like a fire across our faces and the acid churning in our stomachs? 

God meant us to love each other in exactly this way.  Brethren, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, looking to yourself lest you also be tempted, Gal 6:1.  We all take turns at this.  We all need it.  And I have an important piece of information for you, one that should be obvious but apparently is not:  it never feels “gentle” when you are on the receiving end.  I have knocked myself out prefacing correction with “I love you” statements, with praise for the good in a person’s life, only to have to endure a cold shoulder for weeks or months or even years, only to hear later from others how “mean” I was.  I have also felt that sting of conscience when it was my turn to listen, and even when I knew the person speaking loved me.  But the good God meant to come from these things will be completely lost if all we do is tell the erring brother or sister that it’s just fine to be like Herod and Herodias.

So you think this isn’t false doctrine?  Then tell me what it is to teach others to be like evil men and women.  Whatever you come up with, it still isn’t right.

My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. James 5:19-20.

Dene Ward        

WED An Unfair Fight
            She took him into her home.  She fed him.  She offered him a place to rest, a place he felt safe.  Then, when he was sound asleep, she knelt next to him and pounded a tent pin through his temple. 

            Many times I have heard Jael, the wife of Heber, described as a sneaky, devious, blood-thirsty woman.  We in our civilized, politically correct, white collar world decry any ancient blood-letting as barbaric, even though people of our own era commit atrocities, from the mega-massacres of Stalin and Hitler to the mob mentality that runs rampant in both the inner cities and suburbia at the lowest flashpoint, be it outrage or fear.  So, in our blindness to our own hidden savagery, we read the account in Judges 4 with a jaundiced and arrogant eye.  If we had spent any time at all on the song of Deborah in Judges 5, we would have avoided contradicting divinely inspired opinion about Jael’s actions.  Blessed above women shall Jael be, v 24.

            Certainly that should settle the matter.  Just for the added emphasis of common sense, though, let’s ponder this question:  What was this nomadic shepherd woman, alone at home, supposed to do?  Should we require that she meet a trained warrior, the captain of a mighty army, in a fair fight?  Indeed, I read that the customs of the day said for a man to force his way into another man’s tent, or to merely enter that same tent when the man was not at home, was an action worthy of death. 

            But how do we reconcile this type of behavior with Jesus’ teaching.  I say unto you, love your enemies, do good to them who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who despitefully use you.  To him who smites you on the one cheek, offer the other also; and from him who takes away your cloak, withhold not your coat also.  Give to everyone who asks and from him who takes away your goods, ask them not again.  And as you would that men should do to you, do also unto them likewise, Luke 6:27-31.  Some would say, “Jael was under the old law. Things are different now.”  While that is so, it only skims the surface of the matter.

            Old Testament Israel was a physical kingdom with a physical king sitting on a physical throne.  They fought physical wars using physical weapons.  Isaiah prophesies a coming kingdom where they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more, 2:4; a kingdom that would have no physical boundaries, but would encompass the whole world, one into which all nations shall flow, 2:2.  Jesus established that kingdom, the church, his throne not on this earth but in Heaven.

            Yet we still fight battles.  Paul spent a good amount of time detailing our armor (Eph 6), our weapons and battle tactics (2 Cor 10), and the characteristics of a faithful soldier (2 Tim 2). 

            Every time we overcome temptation, we win a battle; every time we speak of our faith to others, we take an enemy captive; every time a Christian leaves this world, having been faithful to the end, we pound a tent pin into the temple of Satan.  If we are too politically correct to fight a battle, if we are too finicky for hand-to-hand combat, if we are too “civilized” to pick up a sword and slash our way through the enemy forces, we don’t have what it takes to be a follower of Christ.

            Make no mistake about it.  You are going to war today.  Be prepared to fight in it.

Suffer hardship as a good soldier of Christ, for no soldier on service entangles himself in the affairs of this life, that he may please him who enrolled him as a soldier, 2 Tim 2:3,4.

Dene Ward