Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.
Refrain:
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!

Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone;
Yet in my dreams I’d be nearer, my God, to Thee.
(Refrain)

There let the way appear, steps unto Heav’n;
All that Thou sendest me, in mercy giv’n;
Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee.
(Refrain)

Then, with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I’ll raise;
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee.
(Refrain)

Or, if on joyful wing cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I’ll fly,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.
(Refrain)

There in my Father’s home, safe and at rest,
There in my Savior’s love, perfectly blest;
Age after age to be nearer, my God, to Thee.
(Refrain)
 
              If you know your Bible, you will recognize that this song was written about Jacob's trip to Haran as he fled his angry brother Esau (Gen 28:10-22).  "My rest a stone," and "in my dreams…steps unto Heaven," are anything but vague.  We too often think of the Jacob who stole his brother's birthright and connived the blessing of the genealogy of the Messiah from his father, while steadfastly ignoring that the Hebrew writer calls Esau a profane man who for one bowl of soup sold what he later claimed to be so important.  He may have been hungry from a long day hunting, but he was not about to starve any more than we are when we say, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."  And as far as the blessing, Isaac may have been blind, but God was not.  He knew who was receiving this most important blessing and He was perfectly happy with the choice, and that was someone other than a man whose god was his belly.  Even Isaac later recognized that.  And why?
              Read the verses above in your Bible and this is what you will see.  Jacob may have been less than we with our judgmental attitudes want our Bible heroes to be, i.e., perfect, but he learned from this dream to be mindful of God in his life, no matter where he was, not just in the Promised Land.  (How do we do outside the church building on a weekday?)  He was confident enough of this relationship that he took the initiative in making a vow.  Not even Abraham did that.  And God was confident enough in him to pass the Abrahamic covenant on through him (Gen 28:13-15).
              Jacob not only learned that God was always with him, he longed to be even closer.  How about us?  Can we truly sing this hymn and mean it?  Can we understand the "good" that comes from trials, or do we declare God to be "good" only when we get what we want?  Look at verse 4, one we never sing because I have never even seen it in any of our hymnals. 
              "Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise."  Bethel, the "house of God"—Jacob was fleeing for his life, yet he realized that in that flight, he had become closer to God and raised an altar to him.  In other words, he recognized God's presence even in that time of trial.  And us?  "So by my woes to be nearer my God to thee."  Are we?  Do the struggles and trials—the "woes"--of this life bring us nearer to God, or do they chase us away, putting a dagger through our faith with statements like, "Why me?"  Do we think God owes us a life of ease and plenty because we have been faithful?  The Health and Wealth Gospel has struck again!
              Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (Jas 1:2-4)  I may not jump up and down with glee when I suffer, but can I see beyond this all too present world to the strength I will gain through successfully enduring trials?  The enduring is the key, along with its growth in wisdom.  If we do not endure and become stronger, even the trials are a waste.  You can sit around in a gym full of barbells and never gain anything from it until you pick them up and actually exercise your spiritual muscles.
              Then they left the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name. And every day, in the temple and from house to house, they did not cease teaching and preaching that the Christ is Jesus. (Acts 5:41-42)  These people were not the sometimes neurotic sounding masochists that certain ancient Christians were, who thought physical pain was cleansing.  They knew that pain itself was not the goal, but that being worthy enough to even suffer for Christ was far superior to being honored by the world.   And they were willing to bring on even more suffering by continuing in their faithful obedience.
              And so their woes brought them "nearer to God."  How are you faring with your woes?  Are your trials working steadfastness (commitment) or do you give up at the first difficult thing that comes your way?  Are we even as good as this fellow Jacob whom we all want to malign as being less than godly?  Are we recognizing God in our lives and trying our best to grow closer to him day after day?
              Would you be willing to ask your song leader to add verse 4 to the song and sing it this coming Sunday?
 
Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Rom 5:2-5)
 
Dene Ward

I wonder if it means as much to us.  I wonder if it would have even gotten our attention.  We take so much for granted, so many things people have not always had access to, things they would marvel at were they alive today. 
            Noon on a hot, dusty day saw a thirsty man sitting by a well after a long walk.  A woman trudged up, not during the normal hours of drawing water; a woman, we would later discover, who was on the fringes of her society, a society that was on the fringes itself, especially to people like this man, who sat where she had hoped to find no one.  To her utter amazement, he asked her for a drink.  It was not just that she was from a hated caste, but she was a woman, and men seldom talked to women in public, especially not one with her background.  And not only that, but he offered her something wonderful--she would never have to come draw water from this well again.  She was so excited she ran to tell the others in the town, even the ones who before would not speak to her because of her questionable morals. 
            He stayed for two days, teaching about this miraculous water, water they eventually realized was not wet or even real, as the world counts reality, but far more real in the dawning light of a spiritual kingdom that would accept them all, not just those other people who hated them.  Soon, everyone would have this living water available, and no one in that kingdom would be considered “second class.”
            I wonder if Jesus would have gotten my attention with this talk?  I don’t have to draw water from a well in the heat of the day—enough water to clean, bathe, cook, and stay alive.  But one day, 30 years ago, that little story meant a whole lot more to me than it ever had before.
            We came home from a trip to discover that our well had collapsed.  We did not have the several hundred dollars it would have cost at the time to fix it.  Keith had to dig a new well himself.  For a month, every night after he finished the studying and home classes he conducted as a preacher, he worked on that well, even in the cold January rain, even running a fever. 
            A farmer neighbor filled and carted a five hundred gallon tank outside our door.  That tank had held things not good for human consumption, so we used that water to carry in five gallon buckets for flushes, and pressure canners full for bathing.  Every morning I went to another neighbor’s house to fill up gallon jugs for the water we used to brush teeth, make tea and coffee, and wash dishes.  The boys were 5 and 3, way too little to help cart water.  I learned the value of carrying a bucket in each hand—balance was everything if you wanted to slosh as little as possible all over your carpets.
            We learned to conserve water without even thinking about it—no more water running in the lavatory while brushing teeth, shaving, or putting in contact lenses!  Suddenly, carrying water was a time-consuming, back-breaking job. Modern homes are simply not geared to anything but running water.  It would have been much simpler to have had an outhouse in the backyard, and a pump handle in the kitchen.  The amount of water that needed hauling would have been cut in half.
            And after a month of that, I understood what this woman must have thought, what a luxury the concept must have seemed to her hot, weary body.  Do we feel that way about “living water?”  Is salvation such a luxury that we marvel at it and run to tell others?  Or do we take it for granted like running water in our kitchens and bathrooms?  I would not wish the month we endured on anyone else, but you know what?  I think it was good for all of us.
 
Therefore with joy shall we draw water out of the wells of salvation.  And in that day shall you say, Give thanks unto Jehovah, call upon his name, declare his doings among the peoples, make mention that his name is exalted, Isaiah 12:3,4      
 
Dene Ward

I have studied Abigail for a few decades now but, just like always, I noticed something new this time through. 
 
             Most everyone knows the story:  a bad man married to a good woman, a woman who dares to stand against him and do right.  But let’s speculate a little—and it really isn’t much speculation at all.

              1 Sam 25:4 calls Nabal “a churlish and evil” man, or, in the ESV, “harsh and badly behaved.”  That is not the half of it.  Look at the way those two words were translated in other places.  “Churlish” is also “obstinate, hard, heavy, rough, stubborn, and cruel.”  “Evil” is “grievous, hurtful, and wicked.”  This man wasn’t just a grouch, he was mean and cruel, and it came from a wicked heart.

              Now imagine a “beautiful and discerning woman” married to such a man.  It almost had to be an arranged marriage—she certainly didn’t fall in love with him.  Since he is extremely rich and she is still in prime childbearing age (we find out later), he is probably older than she.  This is also a time when no one would have said anything about physical abuse.  As you keep reading in chapter 25, the man’s servants are clearly terrified of him.  I do not doubt for a moment that they had all suffered physical punishments from him, probably many unjust.  I wouldn’t even be surprised if Abigail hadn’t suffered the same.  God’s Law protected women from men in every way possible, but for a man like this the Law meant nothing. 

              So along comes David’s army, men who had protected Nabal’s servants from passing raiders by the way, which means his livestock--his wealth--were also protected, and David is now in need of provisions for several hundred men.  Surely this “very rich” man who was already in the middle of a celebration time when the food would be plenteous, v 4, 8, could spare some for them. 

              David carefully instructed his men exactly how to approach Nabal.  If you have one of the newer translations you will miss this.  ESV says they “greeted” him, v 5.  But that word is one that means far more than saying hello.  It can also be translated salute, praise, thank, congratulate, even kneel.  All those words involve respect and honor.  Yet Nabal drives them off with exactly the opposite attitudes—disrespect, dishonor, and ingratitude for their service to him.  “Who is this David?” he asks, accusing him of rebellion (v 10, 11), though Abigail knew exactly who he was (v 28, 30), the anointed of God.

              Abigail knows nothing about this event, but Nabal’s servants know plenty about her.  They come running, afraid for their lives for the way their master has treated a warrior and his army.  And Abigail saves the day, gathering up as much as she can and sending it on to David, riding up herself to reason with him and beg for their lives.  When she asks David to remember her, she isn’t asking him to save her from her lot in life.  She goes back to the man and the responsibilities she sees as hers.

              Now think about this.  What would happen today if something similar occurred to a beautiful young woman, stuck in a loveless marriage to a horrible man, a cruel man who probably beat his servants and maybe her as well?  Do you think she would have had any concern for anyone else? 

              Abigail was not so wound up in her own misery that she couldn’t see the misery of others.  She probably cared for the servants her husband abused.  She didn’t whine about not deserving this kind of life.  She didn’t expect everyone to wait on her hand and foot or bend over backwards for her because she was mistreated, nor did she fall into a useless heap of flesh because life was “unfair.”  She just “dealt with it.”  Instead of being a drama queen focused only on her own problems, she looked for ways to help others as the opportunity arose.  She did not allow her misery to blind her to the needs of others. 

              We could talk about her “going behind her husband’s back,” but let’s quickly notice this—she saved his life too, at least until God came into the picture and took it Himself.  “Looking to the good of others,” we call that nowadays and label it the highest form of love.  Abigail did this for everyone, including the undeserving, and regardless of who did and did not do it for her.

              Abigail understood this, and so should we:  it’s not about me, it’s about Him.
 
[Doing] nothing through faction or through vainglory, but in lowliness of mind each counting other better than himself; not looking each of you to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others, Phil 2:3,4.
             
Dene Ward
 
 

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, early in our marriage.

              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

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

David’s sin with Bathsheba and his subsequent murder of her husband Uriah is found in 2 Sam. 11 and is one of the better known stories in the Old Testament. Instead of being a boring rehash, I hope to help you see some new things in this old story.

In 2 Samuel 11 we find David, having already conquered all the other surrounding kingdoms, sending his army to conquer Ammon. I’ve heard some decry the fact that David stayed behind, saying that if only he had been where he should have been – at the head of his army – none of this would ever have happened. This may be true, but it is equally plausible that David had legitimate reasons for staying behind. We just aren’t told. All we know is that he stayed behind. Then this happens:

2 Sam. 11:2-5 “It happened, late one afternoon, when David arose from his couch and was walking on the roof of the king's house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful. And David sent and inquired about the woman. And one said, "Is not this Bathsheba, the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?" So David sent messengers and took her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she had been purifying herself from her uncleanness.) Then she returned to her house. And the woman conceived, and she sent and told David, "I am pregnant."”

Now, first things first, let’s put to bed an old, tired, erroneous narrative. BATHSHEBA WAS NOT BATHING ON THE ROOF!!! Sorry to shout, but I get so tired of hearing people say that. Read the Bible again, it nowhere says that she is bathing on the roof. There is no mention of her on a roof. DAVID was on the roof and from the roof he saw her. Ten minutes of research into the historical context would show anyone who cares to look that most houses back then were built with a small courtyard in the center. They bathed in this court yard – they had no running water, remember – and were shielded from view on three sides by their house and on the fourth by an erected screen. No one could see them bathe, unless he happened to be on the roof of the house next door. If that happened, it was the responsibility of the accidental voyeur to turn away and not become a purposeful peeping tom. This kind of thing isn’t so far back in our own past, by the way. My father, who likes to say he was raised so far back in the Arkansas hills that they had to pump in the sunshine, didn’t have running water in his house until he was 12. His whole family, including his mother and two sisters, would take turns bathing on the back porch in warm weather. If you knew someone was taking a bath out back, you just didn’t go out back. If a visitor somehow stumbled back there when a bath was being taken, it was on him to skedaddle, and fast, too, or Granddad might start grabbing after the buckshot. So it was David at fault here, for not looking away, not Bathsheba for innocently taking a bath.

Now notice who Bathsheba was. When David asked, he is told she is “the daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah”. These names meant something to David; Bathsheba wasn’t just a random woman. In 2 Samuel 23, where David’s mighty men are listed – these are the 37 greatest warriors in David’s employ and David’s power was built on their strength and loyalty – we see both of these men listed. Uriah is the last listed, in verse 39. Eliam is mentioned in verse 34 and we are told that he is the son of Ahithophel. In 2 Sam. 15:12 we find out that Ahithophel is David’s counselor and in 16:23 we learn that he was so wise that his counsel was like God’s counsel. He was, in his way, as important to David’s continued rule as were the mighty men. So, David was considering adultery with a woman who was the daughter of one of his most trusted warriors, the granddaughter of his most important advisor, and the wife of another important warrior. Basic common sense should have told him to back away from her, but David was apparently feeling pretty full of himself. After all, he was David the mighty and he could have whatever he wanted.

We know how the story goes: David’s carnal desires get the best of him. When Bathsheba winds up pregnant, he tries to get Uriah to go home to her so that all would think that the child was Uriah’s. When Uriah refuses to enjoy the comforts of home while his brothers are fighting, David has him killed and marries Bathsheba. The last line of 2 Sam. 11:27 is one of the bigger understatements in scripture: “But the thing that David had done displeased the LORD.”

So, Nathan confronts David with his sin and David repents. Most people focus on 2 Sam. 12:13, where Nathan tells David that God has forgiven him and that he will not die. God’s incredible mercy is the theme of these sermons, as well as the redemption of the fallen disciple of the Lord. Truly, this is a great example of those qualities of God. We can study this and have hope, knowing that if God will forgive David of adultery and murder He will forgive us of our sins. However, that is not the only thing being taught in this passage. We shouldn’t forget what else God says through Nathan, nor the rest of the history of David’s life recorded in 2 Samuel. Read all of what Nathan says:

2 Sam. 12:10-14 “Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, because you have despised me and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife.' Thus says the LORD, 'Behold, I will raise up evil against you out of your own house. And I will take your wives before your eyes and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this sun. For you did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel and before the sun.'" David said to Nathan, "I have sinned against the LORD." And Nathan said to David, "The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the LORD, the child who is born to you shall die."”

David was forgiven of his sins, but he’d still have to face some consequences. David was forgiven, but his life would not be as pleasant as it would have been had he not sinned. If you list the consequences Nathan names and keep that list before you while you read the remainder of 2 Samuel you will find that almost everything that is recorded after 12:14 is David living through one of these consequences. Here is the list:

1) The sword will not depart from your house.
2) I will raise up evil against you out of your own house.
3) Your neighbor will sleep with your wives in the sight of all.
4) The son born to you (by Bathsheba) will die.

The last listed consequence is the first one to be fulfilled as we see in 12:15-23. David’s son is struck ill and dies one week later. Then, in chapter 13, David’s son Amnon rapes his half-sister Tamar (evil from out of your own house) and Tamar’s full brother Absalom kills Amnon for that rape (sword not departing your house, evil against you from your own house). Chapters 15-18 detail Absalom’s revolt against David, which was so serious that David had to flee across the Jordan to avoid being killed (sword not departing, evil from own house). To show how serious he was in trying to overthrow his father Absalom set up a tent on the roof of the palace and had relations with the concubines David left behind when he fled (Your neighbor sleeps with your wives in the sight of all). This was done at Ahithophel’s suggestion (16:20-22) who had joined Absalom’s revolt. Do you think that Ahithophel might have joined Absalom because he was still angry with David for forcing his granddaughter? Seems likely. Then, as soon as Absalom’s revolt is quashed and David returns to Jerusalem, another revolt arises (chapter 20) headed by a man named Sheba (the sword will not depart).

Even though he was forgiven, David had to deal with the consequences of his sin for the rest of his life. Interestingly, when he wasn’t running for his life David was planning to build the temple of God. While he was told he couldn’t build it, he did draw up the architectural plans, gather all the materials needed (including a personal donation that would be measured in the billions of dollars in today’s money) and plan the order of worship in the Temple, all at the direction of God by His prophets (1 Chron. 28:11-19, 2 Chron. 29:25). In other words, he was still the man after God’s own heart whose life was devoted to serving his God in every way he could. And he STILL had to suffer the consequences of his sins! Even though he was forgiven. Even though his life was devoted to God, because of his sins the final years of his life weren’t as pleasant as they might have been.

And that is a lesson we can all learn from. If we truly repent, God will forgive us of all our sins. 1 John 1:9 “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” However, we may still have to live with life-changing consequences. God will forgive you your fornication, but you might still have to deal with an STD, some of which still can’t be cured. Or maybe you get her pregnant (or you become pregnant) and that will certainly upset your life plans. God will forgive you for getting drunk, but if you drive and get caught, you will have to deal with the DUI. If you drive and kill someone, there are longer, more stringent consequences. You can be forgiven, you can devote the rest of your life to God, but those consequences still aren’t going away.

The first reason I should want to overcome temptation is because of my love for God. He sacrificed His Son so I could be washed free of my sins and stand clean before Him. I should love Him and want to maintain that holy state. I should be willing to fight hard to maintain my purity. God also offers us another incentive to remain pure: the threat of Hell. When my fleshly desires are almost overwhelming me, the threat of eternal torment in a lake of fire combined with my desire to please God might help me defeat the temptation. However, if you find all of that to not be enough, remember the last 20 years of David’s life. I don’t want the last years of my life to be anything like David’s. There will be consequences in this life for your sins, even if you are pardoned in the next life. Those consequences hold the potential to be bad enough to scare most anyone straight. I hope the thought of those consequences helps you overcome your next temptation.

“Jehovah also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die. Howbeit, because by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of Jehovah to blaspheme, [there will be consequences].” (2 Sam. 12:13b-14)

Lucas Ward

And Jehovah said unto Moses and Aaron, Because you believed not in me, to sanctify me in the eyes of the children of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this assembly into the land which I have given them. (Num 20:12)
 
             I grew up hearing about Moses' not being allowed into the Promised Land.  It made a great point about obedience in scores of sermons I heard as a child.  While I was absolutely positive back then about the reason, it has become a little more obscure to me as an adult who has studied these things for so long from so many angles at the feet of so many great preachers.  But that is not my point today.

              I recently finished reading Deuteronomy.  I want you to notice something with me this morning.  If you have not read that book lately, please take the time to read the following passages:

               Even with me the LORD was angry on your account and said, ‘You also shall not go in there. (Deut 1:37)
              And I pleaded with the LORD at that time, saying,‘O Lord GOD, you have only begun to show your servant your greatness and your mighty hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do such works and mighty acts as yours? Please let me go over and see the good land beyond the Jordan, that good hill country and Lebanon.' But the LORD was angry with me because of you and would not listen to me. And the LORD said to me, ‘Enough from you; do not speak to me of this matter again. (Deut 3:23-26)
              Furthermore, the LORD was angry with me because of you, and he swore that I should not cross the Jordan, and that I should not enter the good land that the LORD your God is giving you for an inheritance. For I must die in this land; I must not go over the Jordan. But you shall go over and take possession of that good land. (Deut 4:21-22)
 
             Did you notice something about those three passages?  Moses was not bashful at all about blaming the Israelites for his predicament.  He says God was angry with him "on your account" or "because of you."  After reading that book myself in about five days' time, I understand exactly where Moses was coming from.  I would have been frustrated, disgusted, and angry myself.  In fact, since I read those first four chapters on the same day, I almost felt like Moses was trying to lay a guilt trip on them.  He reminds them again in chapters 31, 32, and 34 that he cannot go where they can.  And I am not sure I blame him.

              Yet still God held Moses accountable for his actions no matter the provocation.  He still had to pay the price for his "unbelief."  A sin "in the passion of the moment" as some of our laws describe it, is still a sin to God.

              The same is true for everything else we want to blame our sins on—our culture, our community, our parents, our circumstances.  God expects us to overcome, and we are held responsible for the things we do no matter what or who the causes.  Ezekiel said it plainly:  The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself. (Ezek 18:20)  Just as our God will never change, that principle of his judgment never will either.

              We are all responsible for what we do.  Period.
 
For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil. (2Cor 5:10)
 
Dene Ward

The first time I received a bushel of pears from a neighbor out here in the country I was disappointed.  I was used to the pears in the store, especially juicy Bartletts, and creamy, vanilla-scented Boscs.  As with a great many things here in this odd state, only certain types grow well, and they are nothing like the varieties you see in the seed and plant catalogues or on the Food Network shows.  We always called them Florida Pears, but recently learned they were Sand Pears, and in this sandy state that makes good sense.  They are hard and tasteless.  In fact, Keith and I decided you could stone someone to death with them.  We nearly threw them away. 

              Then an older friend told me what to do with them.  They make the best pear preserves you ever dripped over a biscuit—amber colored, clear chunks of fruit swimming in a sea of thick, caramel flavored syrup.  Then she made a cobbler and I thought I was eating apples instead of pears.  No, you don’t want to eat them out of hand unless they are almost overripe, but you most certainly do want to spoon out those preserves and dig into that cinnamon-scented, crunchy topped cobbler.  They aren’t pretty; they are hard to peel and chop; but don’t give up on them if you are ever lucky enough to get some.

              A lot of us give up on people out there.  We see the open sin in their lives and the culture they come from and decide they could never change.  Have you ever studied the Herods in the New Testament?  If ever there was a soap opera family, one that would even make Jerry Springer blush, it’s them.  They were completely devoid of “natural affection,” sons trying to assassinate fathers, and fathers putting sons and wives to death.  Their sex lives were an open sewer—swapping husbands at a whim; a brother and sister living together as a married couple; leaving marriages without even a Roman divorce and solely for the sake of power and influence.

              Yet Paul approaches Herod Agrippa II, the son of Herod Agrippa I who had James killed and Peter imprisoned, the grandnephew of Antipas who took his brother's wife and then had John the Baptist imprisoned and killed, great-grandson of Herod the Great who had the babies killed at Jesus’ birth, a man who even then was living with his sister, almost as if he expected to convert him.  Listen to this:

              I consider myself fortunate that it is before you, King Agrippa, I am going to make my defense today against all the accusations of the Jews, especially because you are familiar with all the customs and controversies of the Jews. Therefore I beg you to listen to me patiently, Acts 26:2,3.

              Yes, I am sure there was some tact involved there, but did you know that Agrippa had been appointed advisor in Jewish social and religious customs?  Somehow the Romans knew that he had spent time becoming familiar with his adopted religion—during the time between the Testaments the Herods were forced to become Jews and then later married into the family of John Hyrcanus, a priest.  No, he didn’t live Judaism very well, but then neither did many of the Pharisees nor half the priesthood at that point.  But Agrippa knew Judaism, and Paul was counting on that.

              Paul then spends verses 9 through 23 telling Agrippa of the monumental change he had made in his own life.  Here was a man educated at the feet of the most famous teacher of his times, the rising star of Judaism, destined to the Sanhedrin at the very least, fame and probably fortune as well.  Look at the list of things he “counts as loss” in Philippians 3.  Yet this man gives it all up and becomes one of the hated group he had formerly imprisoned and persecuted to the death, forced to live on the charity of the very group he had hated along with a pittance from making a tent here and there.  Talk about a turnaround.  Do you think he told Agrippa his story just to entertain him?  Maybe he was making this point—yes, you have a lot to change, but if I could do it, so can you.

              In verse 27, he makes his final plea--King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you believe!  Paul had not given up on changing this man whom many of us would never have even tried to convert.  And it “almost” worked.

              Who have you given up on?  Who has a hard heart, a lifestyle that would be useless to anyone but God?  Who, like these pears, needs the heat of preaching and the sweet of compassion?  Who could change if someone just believed in them enough?

              Sand pears seem tasteless to people who don’t work with them, who don’t spend the time necessary to treat them in the way they require.  Are we too busy to save a soul that is a little harder than most?  Who took the time to cook you into a malleable heart for God?  It’s time to return the favor.
 
And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules. You shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God. And I will deliver you from all your uncleannesses... Ezek 36:26-29.
 
Dene Ward

Rahab was a harlot, what we would call a prostitute.  I have come across many commentators who have tried their best to turn her into an “innkeeper,” but the word just won’t allow it.

            The Hebrew word in Josh 2:1 is zanah.  It is also translated commit fornication, go awhoring, play the harlot, play the whore, whorish, whore, etc.  It is used in Lev 19:29; Hos 4:13; Ex 34:16; Isa 23:17 and many other places where the meaning is quite clear.  In the New Testament, the word is porne, in James 2:25 for example, and I do not imagine I need to tell you the English word we get from that Greek one.  This same word is translated whore in Rev 17:1,15,16; 19:2.  Rahab was a harlot, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

            So what is the problem with commentators who insist on “innkeeper?”  The same one the Pharisees had.  If Jesus was the Messiah, how could he possibly associate with publicans and sinners?  If Rahab was a harlot, how could she possibly be in the genealogy of Christ?  Yet they talk about the grace and mercy of God like they understand it better than we do.

            And sometimes we are no better.  Whom do we open our arms to when they walk through our doors?  Whom do we actively seek and label “good prospects for the gospel?”  Yet the people we choose to shun are the people who understand grace because they understand their need for it.  We are a bit like the rich, young ruler, who, though he knew something was missing in his life despite all the laws he kept faithfully, still thought his salvation depended upon something he could do.

            Rahab showed her dependence on God with a scarlet line she hung from her window.  Did you know that word is only translated “line” twice in the Old Testament, counting this occurrence in Josh 2:21?  The other translations are expectation (seven times such as Psa 62:5), hope (23 times, such as Jer 17:13; Psa 71:5), and the thing that I long for (once, Job 6:8).  I do believe it was a literal rope of some sort, but it seems more than passing coincident that the word most of the time has those other meanings.  I have often wondered what her neighbors thought of that cord hanging there, but every day Rahab was reminded of the salvation she did not deserve, that she hoped for, longed for, and expected to receive when those people marched into the land. 

            When we get a little too big for our britches, a little too proud of our pedigree in the kingdom, maybe we need to hang a scarlet cord in our windows to remind us what we used to be, and what we have waiting for us in spite of that.
 
But when the kindness of God our Savior, and his love toward man, appeared, not by works done in righteousness, which we did ourselves, but according to his mercy he saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit, which he poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, that being justified by his grace we might be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life.  Titus 3:4-7
 
Dene Ward

I find Job to be one of the most perplexing books in the Bible.  After trying many years to understand it, I have come up with this:  the book of Job does not answer the question of why bad things happen to good people; it is merely God saying, “You do not need to know why.  You just need to trust me no matter what.”
 
           We all know the story.  In an attempt to make Job renounce God, Satan took away every good thing in his life.  What did he lose?  Seven sons, three daughters, seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred female donkeys (remember, wealth was measured mainly by livestock in the patriarchal times), many servants, standing in the community, and even his health.  About the only things he didn’t lose were his house (42:11), his wife, and his closest friends--if you can call them that.  In fact, when you think about it, Satan probably knew those people would be a help in his own cause, and that is why he left them.  He certainly would not have left Job with a support system if he could have helped it.

            And that brings us to Mrs. Job.  Now let’s be fair.  When Job lost everything, so did she.  And as I have grown older I have learned to be very careful about judging people who are going through any sort of traumatic experience. 

            Keith and I have been through a lot together.  I have had to take food off my plate and put it on my children’s plates because they were still hungry and there was no more.  We have dug ditches next to each other in a driving rainstorm to keep our house from washing away.  I have held a convulsing child as he drove 90 mph to the emergency room thirty miles away.  We have carried all the water we used in the house back and forth for a month because the well collapsed and we could not afford to repair it.  I have bandaged the bullet wounds he sustained as a law enforcement officer.  We have both endured threats on our lives and scary medical procedures.  But all that happened over a period of forty years, not in one day.  And never have I lost a child, much less all of them.  What I would do if I were Mrs. Job, I do not know.  What I should do is easy to say, but however glibly it rolls off my tongue, that does not mean I would have the strength to do it. 

            She was suffering just as much as her husband.  But somehow, Job hung on, while his wife let her grief consume her.  Job actually lost his wife in an even more painful way than death because she failed the test of faith.

            So what happened to her afterward?  Job did have a wife or he would not have had more children (42:13).  Without further evidence to the contrary, the logical assumption is that it was the same wife.  Since they had a continuing relationship perhaps he is the one who helped her, and she repented both of her failure to be a “helper suitable” and of her faithlessness.

            So what should we learn about sharing grief as a couple?  What I hope we would all do when grief and suffering assail our homes is support one another.  The thing that Job did not have from anyone is the thing that should make all single people desire a good marriage:  support and help.  Troubles should pull us together, not tear us apart.  What I cannot lift by myself, I can with help. Sometimes he is the reason she makes it over a personal hill and other times she is his light to make it through the dark places, and that is how God intended it.

            Now here is the question for each of us.  If Satan were going to test my spouse, would he take me, or leave me?
 
Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor.  For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow, but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up.  Again, if two lie together, then they have warmth, but how can one be warm alone?  Eccl 4:9-11
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
On my tenth birthday, my parents gave me The Complete Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales. I’ve always been a bookworm. I can’t claim to have read every single tale in the book, but I did read a great deal. There is one that I vaguely recall, in which a king needed some great thing to be accomplished, the Roc’s Egg brought back to him or some such. He decreed that anyone who did this would be given his daughter’s hand in marriage. A peasant boy who had always dreamed of marrying the princess, undertook the quest. He braved mystic forests and foreboding mountains, fought ogres and elves, and returned, having been successful. He married the princess and became the hero of the kingdom.

Stories like this pervade most, if not all, cultures. Heracles went mad one night and killed his wife and children. Regaining his senses and overcome with grief, he undertook his famous 12 Labors to try to win redemption. Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table spent their lives looking for the Holy Grail. The Asian cultures also have their stories of quests and epic feats in the search of riches or immortality or redemption. Our culture is not without such stories: to save Middle Earth, Frodo goes on a long quest to return the One Ring to Mount Doom. Again and again, great treasures require monumental feats to acquire.

This teaches us good things. Get rich quick schemes rarely, if ever, work. If we want to accomplish something in this life, we have to put in the work, the effort, and the time to achieve it. However, this reinforced belief does leave us suspicious of any easy answer and that sometimes is a detriment.

The Bible contains a story about this. The first half of II Kings 5 will be our text. The first verse:

“Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master and in high favor, because by him the LORD had given victory to Syria. He was a mighty man of valor, but he was a leper.”

Who was Naaman? He was the general of the Syrian armies. He was very well thought of by the king. He was a “mighty man of valor”. This was an important man, a proud man, a celebrity and hero in his country. He was SOMEBODY. But he had leprosy. Leprosy in the ancient Middle East was probably not the flesh rotting disease known in Middle Ages Europe. It was a skin disease that made the skin white and scaly. Often, it caused odors. Basically, it made the sufferer look, and even smell, like a corpse. Under the Law of Moses, lepers were to be quarantined away from the general population, but even in countries that did not follow the Mosaic Law, lepers were generally shunned and became secluded. Naaman, a proud man in a public career, was looking at losing all he had because of this disease. Do you think he was desperate for a cure? I imagine that he had tried every potion offered by every quack in Syria. To no avail. Keep reading with me:

“Now the Syrians on one of their raids had carried off a little girl from the land of Israel, and she worked in the service of Naaman's wife. She said to her mistress, "Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy." So Naaman went in and told his lord, "Thus and so spoke the girl from the land of Israel." And the king of Syria said, "Go now, and I will send a letter to the king of Israel." So he went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten changes of clothing.” (vs 2-5)

Can you feel the desperation here? This small child, prattling on like small children do, mentions the prophet in Israel and his God-given abilities. Seizing on this last hope, Naaman goes to the king for permission to enter Israel and, receiving it, takes a huge gift with him to entice the prophet into helping him. The size of this gift is instructive. Ten talents of silver is 30,000 shekels of silver, which tells you nothing until I explain that the average ANNUAL salary of a laborer at that time was 10 shekels of silver. The silver alone that Naaman brought was the equivalent of 3,000 years pay for a common man! Or, another way to look at it, the silver would have weighed 750 lbs in modern measure, and the gold 150 lbs. I haven’t checked the spot price today, but one fairly recent book estimates the value at $750 million in modern buying power. Plus, ten really nice suits of clothes. How badly did Naaman want to be clean? Look at what he was willing to pay!

After some confusion as to where to go, Naaman arrives at Elisha’s house in verse 9:

“So Naaman came with his horses and chariots and stood at the door of Elisha's house. And Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, "Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean." But Naaman was angry and went away, saying, "Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the LORD his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper. Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be clean?" So he turned and went away in a rage.” (vs 9-12)

Naaman, great man of Syria, mighty man of valor and general of the armies, comes to Elisha’s modest house and . . . Elisha doesn’t even bother to come out to see him. He sends a servant. That had to have punctured Naaman’s ego a bit and then the instructions given are just ridiculous. ‘If it was as easy as washing, don’t you think I’d have done that?!’ He had expected an impressive display, chanting and arm waving and hocus pocus. Instead he is told to wash in the Jordan. ‘Our Syrian rivers are better for washing than that muddy stream.’ He goes away angry precisely because the answer was too easy. If there is any doubt on that, read on:

“And his servants came near, and spoke unto him, and said, My father, if the prophet had bid you do some great thing, wouldn’t you have done it? how much rather then, when he says to you, Wash, and be clean? Then went he down, and dipped himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the saying of the man of God; and his flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.” (vs 13-14)

The servant points out that if a great feat had been prescribed, Naaman would have been all in for that. Remember what he was willing to pay; would there be anything he wouldn’t do? Imagine if Elisha had said ‘Bring me the heads of 100 lions’ or ‘Climb to the top of the tallest mountain’ and he’d be clean. You know that Naaman, mighty man of valor, would have been on his way with zest to complete such a quest. That wouldn’t have upset him at all. But washing was too easy. His servant finally convinced him that if he were willing to undertake the difficult thing, he ought to do the easy as well, and he washed and was cleaned.

Many people today make the same mistake Naaman almost did. We, too, have a problem. He had leprosy, we are disfigured by sin. Leprosy affects the body, sin rots the soul. If Naaman was willing to pay hundreds of millions of dollars and go on exotic quests to be rid of leprosy, what should we be willing to do to be rid of sin? It can’t be something easy, right? That thought is why many modern denominations teach that forgiveness isn’t something that we can reach, but that it takes the direct working of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit must overcome you and lead you to forgiveness. How do we know that has happened? We begin babbling in “tongues” or fall into the aisles in religious fervor. Surely it takes big things like that to be rid of sin, right? Well, what does the Bible say?

Rom 10:9 “because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”
Rom 10:14 “How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching?”

Combining these verses, we must hear the word taught, believe in our hearts that Jesus was raised from the dead, and be willing to confess Him as Lord. What’s interesting is that we have an example of people just like that in Acts 2. They had heard the Gospel preached by Peter, including that Jesus had been raised from the dead – vs 32 “This Jesus God raised up, and of that we all are witnesses.” – and that He was Lord – vs. 36 “Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” They believed, being pricked in the heart (vs 37) and asked Peter what they should do. His answer? “And Peter said to them, ‘Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’”

Understanding all of this, then, means that we must hear the word preached and believe it. Believe in our hearts the gospel of the resurrection and be willing to confess Him as Lord. Then we repent of our sins and are baptized for the remission of those sins and we will be saved, have our sins removed, and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. There is no mention of the Holy Spirit overwhelming us or of babbling in “tongues” or religious frenzies. It is much simpler than that. Too simple, in fact, for many people to believe in it. Like Naaman, they turn away.

But having achieved so great a salvation from so merciful and loving a God, how are we to worship Him? Surely so great a God demands extravagant, awe-inspiring worship. We need rock-and-roll bands combined with shouting, dancing, and rolling in the aisles, right? Or perhaps we need to build monumental temples to Him filled with statuary and decorated by beautiful artworks in which imposing priests in impressive robes conduct ancient rites in a dead language? Again, our great God deserves such impressive worship, right? Well, what does the Bible say?

Col. 3:16 We are to sing praises to Him and teaching to each other.
1 Tim. 4:13 We are to teach and preach God’s word.
Eph. 6:18, 1 Thess. 5:17 We are to pray.
1 Cor. 11:23-25, Acts 20:7, We are to partake in His supper on the first day of the week.
1 Cor. 16:1-2 On the first day of the week we are to take up a collection.

And that’s it. It is simple. Too simple for some to accept, but we don’t apologize for the simplicity of our worship to God because it is precisely what He asked us to do.

Paul warns us in 1 Cor. 1:21-23 that many will be turned away by the simplicity of the Gospel and the teaching of the New Testament. Like Naaman almost was, these will be turned off because it is just too easy. They can’t grasp that something so great can be achieved in such a simple manner. So they turn away.

Don’t be like them. For once, take the easy way out.

Lucas Ward