Every dog we have ever had has loved a good belly rub, but Chloe seems to have taken it to another level.  It isn’t just that she begs for a belly rub, it’s that she thinks God put her here to have her belly scratched, and that scratching her belly may be the only reason He put us here.

              A few people seem to have the same opinion about themselves and the church.  The only reason God instituted a church is to pander to their every need.  It seldom seems to cross their minds that other people have needs as well, and that those needs may be even more critical than theirs.  Chloe wouldn’t care if the house were on fire if she saw us running outside.  She would still scamper up, plop herself on the ground and roll over—isn’t that why we came outside, to scratch her belly?  A Christian who thinks he is the center of the universe is behaving the same way.

              Others think the only reason God put them in the church was for the church to listen to them.  They never ask a question in a Bible class, or offer a comment to stimulate discussion and deep thinking.  Instead they have all the answers and are happy to tell you exactly how things ought to be done, even things that are not specifically spelled out in the scriptures.  They know best.  It amazes me when these are people new to a congregation, who don’t yet know the background and experiences of the people they are trying to advise, often including elders, or who are in their mid-twenties with little life experience behind them.  Kind of reminds me of Chloe who thinks a belly rub is appropriate any time of day, any place, even while you are trying to shoot a rattlesnake that she obviously has not seen.  But she knows best, Boss!

              Then there are the ones who think their feelings, or the feelings of a family member, are all that count.  The church is supposed to pussyfoot around and never offer exhortation or criticism that might “offend” by our definition of the word.  They think they are put here to be stroked and petted and “have their belly rubbed” regardless of what might be happening to their souls.  Reminds me of that passage about people “whose god is their belly”—nothing matters at the moment but how they feel.  I am not about to let Chloe roll over on her back in the middle of a garden row I have just planted that is supposed to help feed us this year, no matter how much it hurts her feelings for me to tell her, “No!”  Some things are more important than her feelings, and if she were my child instead of my dog, I would explain that to her rather than let her do as she pleased and cost us a few hundred dollars worth of groceries. 

              So what do you do about people like that?  You do the same thing the Lord did for you when you were still that immature and selfish.  You tolerate, you teach, you show them a better way with the example of your own service and willingness to accept abuse or take on responsibilities that are not yours but that you do because they need doing and you are there.  You love them in a way they don’t deserve and yes, you rebuke when necessary and hope they won’t act childishly and run off to play somewhere else, where everyone will scratch the belly they offer, and let them be the only ones who matter and the only ones worth listening to.

              The Lord did all that for us, and he expects us to do it for them.  Some day maybe they will learn to be better than a silly little dog who thinks the world is here to scratch her belly.  Didn’t you?
 
And we exhort you, brethren, admonish the disorderly, encourage the fainthearted, support the weak, be longsuffering toward all. 1Thes 5:14
 
Dene Ward
 

Wrens are known for making their nests in strange places.  On the carport, the old exercise bike has become the place to hang things, including the old coffee can we use to scoop Chloe’s feed from the fifty pound bag, and then shove sideways on one handle bar until the next morning.  One Saturday afternoon, after Keith had used the can in the morning, a wren couple went to work right under our noses and built a nest inside it in less than an hour.  When we discovered it, Keith grabbed some duct tape and ran a piece along the side of the can onto the handlebar to hold it steady.  We both hated the thought of the wind or a jostle by one of us knocking the can to the ground, especially after the eggs were laid.

            We have been checking the nest every few days, bending down with a flashlight to look inside.  That mother is obviously devoted, sitting there staring at us through the beam, not moving a muscle though we are only a few feet away from her.  We try to make our intrusions short and no more than once every other day or so.  Last Saturday we looked in and saw a mouth.  An hour or so later there were three more--a fuzzy gray mound of down and four wide open mouths, swaying back and forth, eagerly searching for whatever we might have brought.  I hated to disappoint them.

            From time to time we see the parents flying back and forth.  They come with a mouthful and leave just a few seconds later—over and over and over.  The only time those tiny mouths are closed is when the babies are asleep.  While they are awake, mama and daddy get no rest for they are never satisfied.  It is never enough.

            That is exactly what God should see from us—wide open mouths.  If you think attending every service and even extra Bible studies makes you one who “hungers and thirsts after righteousness,” you have missed the point.  Certainly we need the nourishment provided when the flock is fed the word of Life, but that isn’t even half of it.  Like newborn infants, long for the spiritual milk that by it you may grow up unto salvation, Peter tells us in his first epistle, 2:1.  The point is the longing for the spiritual instead of the physical; understanding that the point of this life is training for the next.

            Yes, you need a good background in the scriptures.  I am often appalled at how poorly my brethren know them.  But where there is no desire for righteousness there will be no spirituality.  Where there is no longing for God, learning facts will simply be an intellectual exercise.  We must be like baby birds—nothing but a wide open mouth that will not be satisfied until the bread of life has completely filled it. 

            What are you longing for today?  Wealth will not satisfy.  Health will not satisfy.  Status and fame, not even our fifteen minutes’ worth, will satisfy.  The only true satisfaction can come from God. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore…For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water…, Rev 7:16-17.

            The only way to receive that promise—for your hunger and thirst to be filled--is to be hungry and thirsty in the first place. We should all be nothing less than another hungry mouth to feed.
 
As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever." John  6:57-58.                    

Dene Ward

The first few years I only had one catbird at my feeder, a chary fellow who only visited during winter when he couldn’t find anything easily on his own.  He sat clumsily on the suet cage, which was almost too small for him, and pecked away, but it only took a micro-movement from me on the other side of the window to scare him off.

            Although I had read that the catbird got its name from its call, I had never heard him utter a peep.  He quietly came to the square of suet, ate his fill, and left.  The other morning, as I sat by the window he flew into the nearest azalea on the other side of the feeder and I heard it, a “mew” just as clear and sweet as a newborn kitten’s.  And what caused him to mew?  There on the suet perched another catbird--he was jealous.  Suddenly he flew at the interloper and chased him away.   

            Within a week, a third catbird had joined the fray, this one a bit smaller and slimmer, probably a fledgling.  Now they all go at it.  It isn’t enough to chase one away and then eat your fill.  They think they must sit guard and keep the others from getting any of it.  This is not the catbird personality I had always seen before, and I hear that mew more often too.  Now I know what truly lies beneath those slate gray feathers.

            I have seen it happen with people too.  You think they are one sort of personality but when circumstances don’t go their way, suddenly they morph into someone you have never met before.  Sometimes that’s a good thing, like quiet mothers who instantly, and fiercely, protect their young, but others times it means we have not really become new creatures, we have just hidden the old one and stress made him rear his ugly head once again.

            Becoming a better person is difficult.  Baptism doesn’t instantly fix the flaws in your character.  They have deep-seated roots from childhood or traumatic experiences in your life.  It takes effort to change yourself.  You have to first realize where the problems lie.  Then you have to prepare yourself to meet those stressful situations with study, prayer and meditation, deciding ahead of time how you will react should the same thing happen again.  You have to learn to accept the help of others, even if it does come in the form of a stern rebuke or disapproving look.  Finally, you have to be on watch.  Most of us just let life happen to us, then wonder why we weren’t able to do better “after all these years,” as if time were the only thing that mattered.  Doing better must come from being better or it won’t last.

            God will not remove the stress from our lives.  He won’t make the trials suddenly disappear.  Any time we convert someone with the promise that all of their problems will now be solved, we are giving them false hopes.  The true hope is that now we have help with our problems, but only if we use it.  God does not allow trials so we will have an excuse for bad behavior but so we will become stronger and better able to handle those trials. 

            I watch those catbirds and wonder if I have really become a new creature.  Today it’s time to get up out of my chair and work on it.
 
For the love of Christ constrains us; because we thus judge, that one died for all, therefore all died; and he died for all, that they that live should no longer live unto themselves, but unto him who for their sakes died and rose again…Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they have become new. 2 Cor 5:14, 15, 17                                                         
 
Dene Ward

Wrens are known for building nests in odd places and we have a couple who have proven the point.  They can’t seem to help themselves when it comes to building nests.  And fast?  In less than an hour they are ready to set up housekeeping.   Anything that is left open and alone for that amount of time is fair game.

            We’ve found nests in boxes of empty mason jars in the shed, and on the lawn mower seat under its protective tarp.  We’ve found them on the bristles of the push broom which hangs upside down near the ceiling of the carport.  We’ve found them in roof gutters, and draped plastic sheeting.  We’ve found them in flower pots, tomato vines, and empty buckets.

            We usually buy dog food in 50 lb bags at the feed store and keep it stored in a large plastic garbage can in the shed.  We carry Chloe’s daily allotment in an old three pound coffee can, which we then shove sideways on the handlebars of the old exercise bike until the next day’s feeding.  Last month we found a wren’s nest in that can, obviously built after Chloe had been fed the day before, hanging precariously, rocking in the breeze. 

            Immediately Keith duct-taped it more securely to the handlebars so it couldn’t be blown or jostled off, and found another old can to use for Chloe’s feed.  It has become something of a joke now—remember to put up the [whatever] before the wrens find it.

            This doesn’t happen just once a year.  The mother wren incubates the eggs for about 2 weeks and then both parents feed them until they can fly, about two weeks later.  Often, the last few days of feeding, the father takes over completely so the mother can start another nest.  In our climate, they often build a third nest after that one.  They are like little nest-building machines—wherever they can, whenever then can.

            Isn’t that the way we should be about the gospel?  Too many times we’re out there making judgments about where to sow the seed instead of strewing it about everywhere we can.  We decide who will and who won’t listen and worse, who we deem “worthy” to hear.

            That certainly isn’t what Jesus did.  He taught dishonest businessmen and immoral women.  He taught the upper class and the lowest of the low.  He taught the diseased and the disabled, as well as the hale and hearty blue collar workers.  He taught people who wanted to hear and people who just wanted to make trouble for him.  Shouldn’t we be following his example?

            Too many times we worry about the reception we will get.  When Jesus sent out the seventy, he didn’t say, “If you don’t think they’ll listen, then shake the dust off your feet and go elsewhere.”  What he said was, “If they don’t listen,” which means everyone had a chance to decline if that is what they chose to do.  We can’t seem to stand the possibility of rejection, not an auspicious trait for disciples of the one who was “despised and rejected of men.”

            We should be like wrens, speaking about our faith anywhere, even the most unlikely places, to anyone, even the most unlikely people.  Over and over and over, like we can’t help ourselves, like our lives depended upon it, because maybe they do.
 
Therefore I testify to you this day that I am innocent of the blood of all of you, for I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of God.  Acts 20:26-27.
 
Dene Ward

The longer I live here, the more I realize that Florida is just plain weird.  None of the popular garden books work.  None of the advice on the gardening section of the morning shows make any sense.  They don't even come at the right time of year for us.  And having become a birder, I can tell you that we seem to have fewer of the birds pictured in the bird books.  Oh, we have a some of the ones you see up north all year, mainly cardinals, titmice, chickadees, phoebes, woodpeckers, blue jays and mockingbirds.  Then the water birds and larger birds of prey, like owls and hawks of various kinds.  But not goldfinches, not painted buntings, not black and white warblers, not yellow-rumped warblers, not even robins—except for a few brief weeks when they pass through on their migratory paths.

              And we didn't even see those few for years.  Not until we started setting out large shallow pans of water on top of the feeder poles.  Suddenly we were spending hours with binoculars and the bird book trying to figure out which was what.  Still, it took a while before the word passed among the bird population that water and food was free and easy on the Ward property.

              Four or five years ago we saw our first pair of goldfinches.  In the fall you can hardly miss them.  Their bright yellow feathers and contrasting black and white wings are plain as day, even without binoculars.  In the spring it's a bit tougher.  Having changed during winter, their feathers are drabber, almost olive, and the only way to tell them from the pine warblers are the faint streaks on the warblers' breasts.  After a couple of weeks, the goldfinches begin to molt and the bright yellow once again shows up, at least on the breeding males.  The non-breeding males are still drabber than the other males and have no black mark on their foreheads.  The females look a lot like those younger males and also sport a white patch on their rumps.  But it begins to be obvious that they are goldfinches, too.  It seems like they actually stayed a little longer this year before scooting back up north.

              My book tells me they often appear in flocks.  Must be another difference for Florida.  The first three years we only had the one pair.  Last year we suddenly had two pairs of goldfinches.  Then one day this past spring, I walked up to the window that looks out on our homemade aviary and there in the feed trough just outside the house was a whole flock of goldfinches happily pecking away.  I counted ten.  Ten!  Wow, I had hit the jackpot!

              So I stood there and watched for a while until they suddenly became aware of us and all flew off in a flash.  After that a couple of them took turns on the hanging feeders further away from the house.  I sat down and watched them a little longer.  You know what?  The two on the hanging feeder were every bit as cute and fun to watch, every bit as bright and cheerful a yellow as the ten had been.  They didn't lose their God-given glory just because there were fewer of them.

              And that made me wonder, why are we so impressed with numbers?  Why are we so impressed with titles?  Why are we so impressed with brand names and designer labels?  Why are we so impressed with outward appearance?  The more zeroes in a price tag, the more letters after a name, or the more awards on a shelf, the more we think of the person, the job, the car, the home, the neighborhood, the title and position.  And many times, the more wrong we are about what really matters.

              Better is a little, with righteousness, than great revenues with injustice. (Prov 16:8)

              How much better is it to get wisdom than gold! Yea, to get understanding is rather to be chosen than silver. (Prov 16:16)

              He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; And he that rules his spirit, than he that takes a city. (Prov 16:32)

              Better is the poor that walk in his integrity, Than he that is perverse in his ways, though he be rich. (Prov 28:6)

              One little goldfinch is every bit as fascinating to watch as a whole flock stretched out on a feeder, pecking not only at the seeds but sometimes each other.  One little goldfinch is just as yellow, just as cute, and just as worthy of my attention as fifty.  In fact, since he is the only one, I am usually a lot more grateful for him.
 
But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.” (1Sam 16:7)
​
Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment.” (John 7:24)
 
Dene Ward         
 

A few mornings ago Chloe and I walked out to Magdi’s grave for a few minutes and saw that the mums we planted there are coming back from the winter’s frost, and the grass around it is greening up as well.  As we headed back to the house, I stopped and listened.  I heard crows, wrens, titmice, cardinals, hawks, woodpeckers, chickadees, blue jays, and sparrows, as well as a few I haven’t yet learned to recognize.  The world seemed completely full of tweets, chirps, whistles, warbles, and trills.  I am hearing God, I thought, just as surely as if He had spoken out loud.  Who else could have created such diverse and beautiful sounds?  Everything else was manmade and ugly—a semi roaring out on the highway, the neighbor’s leaf blower whining, another’s raucous lawn mower spitting and sputtering, and still another’s old pickup truck revving loudly. 

              It made me stop to think of all the other times I have heard God in my life—the incessant pounding of the waves on the beach; the scream of a hawk diving for its prey; the sound of a little boy’s voice who, less than eight years ago, did not exist; my daddy’s final breath as he left for a better place.  Anyone who has not heard God in those things, probably does not hear Him in the place where He speaks plainest—His word, for God does not leave His children wondering just exactly what that metaphysical moment they experienced meant for them to do.  He tells them plainly.

              Remember the Day of Pentecost?  Everyone heard “a sound as of a rushing mighty wind” that “filled all the house,” a sound they all recognized as having come “from heaven,” Acts 2:2.  Yet when did they finally know what God wanted them to do?  Only after the apostles spoke.  “Then when they heard this,” they were told exactly what to do, 2:37. 

              When an angel spoke to Cornelius in a vision—an angel, mind you—he certainly heard God, but he was told to send for Peter who would speak “words whereby you shall be saved” 11:14.

              Paul told the Romans “faith comes by hearing and hearing through the word of Christ” 10:17, the same word, the same gospel he proclaimed “the power of God unto salvation” 1:16.

              Yes, it is possible to hear God in the world around you.  If you don’t, you have a remarkably unspiritual mind.  If the roar of the wind and crack of thunder in a storm doesn’t fill you with wonder at the power of an Almighty Creator, you need a few pointed reminders as to the brevity and fragility of life and the temporal nature of the world around you.  But if you really want to know what God wants of you, get out His Word and read it.  Only those who are ready to listen can really hear.
 
Whoever is of God hears the words of God. The reason why you do not hear them is that you are not of God. John 8:47.
 
Dene Ward

We had chickens for a while and with the hens came a rooster.  Yes, they do crow in the morning, and not just at dawn.  Sometimes they are a little off—they anticipate the dawn and crow early.

              We had visitors once who were not used to roosters, city folk that they were.  Their three year old slept with them in the only extra bed we had, and that room was right next to the chicken coop.  About 5 am when the sky might have lightened to gray if you thought about it real hard, the rooster went about his act.  We usually slept through it, having been inured for a good while, but our guests said their small child sat bolt upright in the bad and said, “What was that Mommy?”  None of them ever got back to sleep.  The rooster did his thing about every fifteen minutes like a snooze button gone haywire until the dawn actually arrived, and that child came out of that bedroom with eyes as big as saucers.  Too bad you can’t muzzle a rooster.

              But maybe we shouldn’t muzzle those roosters after all.  Just as they woke the farmers to begin their day’s work, metaphorical roosters can wake us up.  Who doesn’t recall the real rooster that woke Peter from his self-deluded state?  And straightway the second time the cock crew. And Peter called to mind the word, how that Jesus said unto him, Before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. And when he thought thereon, he wept. (Mark 14:72)  He wasn’t the only one in scriptures who suddenly “awoke” to his sins.

              How about the lost son?  And he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. But when he came to himself he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish here with hunger! (Luke 15:15-17)  I can just see him leaning over the trough as I did so many times when we had pigs of our own, and coming face to face—almost nose to filthy running nose--with a hog.  He may have been awakened by a pig instead of a rooster, but the effect was the same.

              And then there were the exiled Jews whom Ezekiel spent his life trying to convert.  God said that when the Messianic kingdom began they would “remember and be confounded;” they would “remember…and loathe themselves” for their sins (Ezek 16:63; 36:31).  That wonderful new kingdom would be so much more than they deserved that it would shake them out of their complacency.

              In Acts 2, that crowd of Jewish worshippers were awakened by the events of the day and the convicting word that Peter spoke.  “And when they heard...they were cut to the heart…” (v 37).

              And who can forget the light dawning on David when Nathan the prophet looked at him and said, “Thou art the man?”  (2 Sam 12:7, 13) 

              If you’ve never had a rooster crow in your life, you may still be asleep in your smugness and self-satisfaction.  It almost hurts when you are roused out of a deep sleep, and it should hurt even more when you are roused out of a spiritual sleep. 

              Pray for a rooster today.  And pray that you will hear it.
 
But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Eph 5:13-14)
 
Dene Ward         

 

This time of year we see a lot of birds passing through on their migration back north.  Sandhill cranes fly right over us following the same flight path as the jets, helicopters, and blimps, from our southeast corner to our northwest boundary post.  You can hear them coming from miles away.  A couple of goldfinches visit our feeder for two or three days in the spring and fall.  Their bright yellow is hard to miss, even for me.  A painted bunting thrills us with his lightning quick “here and gone” visits.  A blue grosbeak couple spent a few weeks with us last spring.  They actually take the time to nest and breed before moving on.

              A few weeks ago we had another two day visitor—a woodcock.  He’s an odd-looking fellow, a foot long or less, with a chunky body, a striped head and a long thin bill.  He looks a bit like a bent old man with a cane.  I watched as he walked around the foot of the feeder, poking that bill into the ground again and again like a baker checking for the doneness of her cake.  Suddenly he plunged his beak to the hilt, then began pumping away.  He’s found something, I thought, and sure enough he began to pull up a long black worm.  The worm did its best to hold onto the last clod of dirt, stretching like melted cheese on a pizza, but eventually he popped out and the woodcock downed him in the blink of an eye.  The next day the woodcock was gone too, another sojourner on his way home.

              We sing a song:  “This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through.”  Is that how we really feel?  Those migrating birds have no problem leaving behind feeders full of seeds that magically replenish themselves.  They’re here and gone without a thought for what’s left behind.  Even the grosbeaks who stay long enough to build a nest and raise a few chicks will up and leave as soon as the task is accomplished.

              And what do we do but spend our time, money, and effort on the temporary with little thought for the eternal.  We don’t just build a nest, we build a monument.  “This is where someone like me ought to be living and this is the type of house I ought to have in the neighborhood I ought to have it.”  Would we spend that much time, money, and effort on a motel room?  Because that’s all this world is.  How about spending that much time, money, and effort on the treasure in heaven?

              You’re just a goldfinch passing though for a couple of days.  Even the birds know where home really is.

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. (Heb 11:13-16)

Dene Ward

Magdi has been gone 10 months.  She was definitely the dominant dog.  She made sure Chloe knew it with a couple of painful lessons.  Once that was established they got along fine.  Sometimes Magdi snapped impatiently, but most of the time they played well together.  Though Magdi would have been loathe to admit it, Chloe kept her active longer as the arthritis set into her hips in her last two years.  She couldn’t have that little whippersnapper outdoing her.

            But we have seen the effects of Magdi’s domination since she died.  When people come to visit, Chloe hides.  Even from children, Chloe hides.  If we happen to be swatting at a fly, she runs for cover.  She will sit next to us for only a brief amount of time, then she is off to herself somewhere across the yard because that was always Magdi’s spot.  In spite of our diligent efforts to treat them the same, Magdi definitely taught Chloe her place.

            We thought about another companion for Chloe, but decided it was not a good idea.  She would immediately become submissive again because that is all she knows.  She needed time to become “her own dog,” and to know that this was her territory to defend.

            Things are coming along, but slowly.  She has started digging up moles in the yard.  She did this before, but Magdi always took them away from her.  When she dug up the first one after Magdi died, she left it for her.  Now she knows it’s hers to do with as she pleases.  This year the moles have made our yard look like a topographical map, so we are happy to let her do it, even if it means we need to fill in the holes, and we encourage her every time we come across a tunnel. 

            The neighbor walked his dogs the other day-- two huge Great Danes loping along the fence line like a couple of horses.  Chloe wouldn’t go to the fence to challenge them as she used to do with Magdi, but instead of hiding under the porch as she has since Magdi died, she sat out on a raised mound and actually barked at them.  Last week some repairmen came.  She went out to the road and barked at the truck!  The next day when guests came, she hid under the porch again.  Oh well, progress is often measured in inches instead of miles.

            This morning she walked up to the gate with me.  There on the other side was another dog sniffing the ground as dogs do, checking to see who had been around lately and whether this was a place he could claim as his own.  I stopped to see what would happen.  Instantly Chloe’s ears popped up.  She straightened her stance and her tail stood at attention.  A low growl began to erupt from deep within her chest, and before I realized what was happening, she spun out, charging the gate with a ferocious bark.  That other dog took one look and hightailed it back up the road to his own place, the place Chloe had just put him in with her vigorous defense of her people and her property.

            No, it doesn’t mean that things are suddenly right.  She still has a long way to go, but she is doing better.  We showed her that it was her job, and she has stepped up to the plate, at least once in awhile.  There may be things she can never do as well as Magdi did, but there are things she can do even better—like hear the moles in the ground and dig them up. 

            Haven’t you known a young man who had to follow in the footsteps of a dominant father, one who accomplished much and had many admirers, a young man who thought he could never do the same, and so quit trying?  It’s our fault when that happens.  We expected him to be his father instead of being who he was.  It may very well be that the man he is can do other things equally well, or better, but our expectations have kept him from even discovering those things. 

            And so in the family of God, as each generation comes along, it is our duty to teach them “the ropes.” Excuse my mixed metaphors, but it is also our duty to step out of the way and pass the torch.  No, we don’t put old men out to pasture.  If they can still teach or sing or preach or pray, then they need to do that.  They have an obligation to God to do that as long as they are able.  But we must also allow the next generation time to grow, time to make a few mistakes and learn from them, time to become their own men in the Lord.

            “Passing the torch” takes humility.  You know you are better so you keep it and run another mile.  Meanwhile, that young man, the one with fresher legs, gets no experience, no on-the-job training, and no encouragement.  Then, when the old men are gone, he can do nothing.  Or perhaps worse, he believes that the things he can do don’t count for anything.  Where is the wisdom in that?

            Being a young, or inexperienced man takes humility too.  Those men before you know what they are talking about when they give you advice.  Listen to them.  You will not match their prowess at the beginning, but with their help and God’s help and your own hard work, you can be every bit the men of God they are.  And by the way, the same goes for the women in the church too.
 
I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young men, because you have overcome the evil one…I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one, 1 John 2:13-14.
 
Dene Ward

Chloe sounded like a puppy was supposed to sound when we first got her, a small high-pitched yap of a bark, rather than the more full-throated deep bark Magdi had.  I assumed her bark would grow up as she did.  I was wrong.  Despite four years of growth into forty pounds of deep-chested dog, she still sounds like someone stepped on her squeak toy.  It’s difficult to take her bark seriously and actually go check it out.  Anything that raises that sort of noise can’t be dangerous, can it?

            Paul says in 1 Cor 14:8, For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle? His context is another topic altogether, but he makes the point for me.  God expected his people to sound a trumpet when an enemy approached, Num 10:9.  When you go into battle…against an enemy who is oppressing you, sound a blast on the trumpets, and you shall be remembered before the Lord your God and you shall be saved from your enemy.”  Notice!  He said sound a blast, not a wimpy little “blurp.”  He has always expected his watchmen to sound the alarm so that his people could be protected.

           In our politically correct world, I worry that we have fallen into the habit of giving “an uncertain sound.”  We no longer speak in plain English.  We are too worried about what others might think, so worried in fact, that many people never know they have been rebuked, and fewer hear any sort of warning at all.  Even in the original context of I Corinthians 14, speaking in tongues, Paul worried about people understanding what they were being told.  So with yourselves, if with your tongue you utter speech that is not intelligible, how will anyone know what is said? For you will be speaking into the air. The same is true when we pussyfoot around with our preaching.  If people don’t get the point, what good did we do?  And no, I am not going to take the time to qualify this with warnings about having the right attitude when we correct others.  For a disciple of Christ that should go without saying.  Attitude is not my point today, and these days, not the one we most need to hear.

            If we fail to adequately warn those who are sinning, if we fail to warn our brethren against false teaching and its consequences, where will we stand before our God?  We might as well be yapping like a dustmop dog, irritating the neighbors and raising up a fuss for nothing.
 
But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned, and the sword come, and take any person from among them; he is taken away in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand. So you, son of man, I have set you a watchman unto the house of Israel; therefore hear the word at my mouth, and give them warning from me. When I say unto the wicked, O wicked man, you shall surely die, and you do not speak to warn the wicked from his way; that wicked man shall die in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at your hand. Nevertheless, if you warn the wicked of his way to turn from it, and he turns not from his way; he shall die in his iniquity, but you have delivered your soul.  Ezek 33:6-9.
 
Dene Ward