I live in rural north central Florida.  Snakes are a fact of life.  Poisonous snakes are a big fact of life.  You learn to take precautions, but even then, if you have not seen one in a while, you become careless.  Last summer we were reminded of where we live.

One morning I was walking the mown path around our property, as I do every day, six laps for 3 ½ miles.  Suddenly the weeds to the left of me buzzed.  If you have ever heard a rattlesnake in person, you know it does not sound exactly like the ones on TV.  It sounds like an angry June bug, a really big, really angry June bug.  I leapt sideways about 10 feet—in fact, if sideways leaping were an Olympic event, I would have won the gold medal that day.  

We never found that one, but not ten days later, the dog alerted us to one in the yard, which Keith shot.  Four days later, she found a cottonmouth which escaped her by flattening itself enough to get under the house.  Keith had to crawl under there with a flashlight and a pistol for that one.  A week later another rattler in the yard met him as he returned from the neighbor’s.  Four days later a black racer crossed my running path about thirty feet ahead.  Two days after that a coachwhip met me at the fence behind the old pigpen when I walked.  This was beginning to get eerie.  We had never had this many snakes in this short a time, not even the first summer we set up house in this old watermelon field in the piney woods, half a mile off the highway.  

Five days later I was folding clothes in the family room and happened to look out the window right next to me.  Not five feet from my face, a racer was winding itself up around the TV tower.  No, racers are not poisonous.  Yes, it was outside and I was inside with not one, but two, glass panes between me and it.  But something about that one sent chills up my spine.  It was almost more than I could do to go outside that day at all.  Somehow I expected to see dozens of snakes slithering up the porch steps and clinging to the screen just waiting to strike when I opened the back door.  

But when it was time to walk, I took a deep breath, got the .22 rifle loaded with number 12 shot, leaned it against the tree and set off, with my trusty canine bodyguards bounding up ahead of me to sniff out the critters and, more important, scare away the snakes.  Still, I was a lot more alert than usual.  

This was a good spiritual reminder as well.  We live in a stable society.  No natives on the warpath.  No marauders on the borders.  No wars fought on our home ground.  Have we forgotten to be careful?  There is still an enemy out there who is REAL, and he will kill our souls if we are not alert.  Are we to be so afraid that we shut ourselves away from the world?  No, for how could our lights shine and our faith be told?  But being cautious never hurt anyone.  

When you go out there today, pay attention, stay safe, and when you see the lion, who at least once has masqueraded as a serpent, either shoot him down right there or run!

Be sober, be watchful, your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walks about seeking whom he may devour; withstand him, steadfast in your faith, knowing that the same sufferings are accomplished in your brothers who are in the world.  And the God of all grace, who called you unto His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, shall Himself perfect, establish and strengthen you.  1 Pet 5:7-10

Dene Ward 

I had a bad spell earlier this spring, a time when I had more pain and could see even less than my new “normal.”  So I sat by the window and watched the birds.

            The sparrows, which usually prefer to fend for themselves in the summer, still flitted and darted by, or sat right down in the trough full of birdseed, being too short to reach from the sides of the feeder.  One little fellow was having a terrible time keeping his balance, though.  More often than not, he fell over in the seed, fluttering and scattering grain up and around, “stoning” his companions with their meal.

            The second time I saw him, he was on the wooden ledge of the feeder, right next to the window on what should have been flat, even footing.  Still, he could barely stand up straight, and often rested on his stomach, heaving great sighs of exertion that puffed up his little breast like a pair of overwrought bellows.  The next time he stood I leaned as closely as I could to the glass and finally saw his problem.  He only had one leg. 

            This little fellow was severely handicapped, despite his wings.  He couldn’t hop just an inch or two without teetering dangerously.  He couldn’t get from one side of the feeder across the trough to the other without flapping his wings and causing consternation among his closest dining companions.  Perhaps the worst problem, he could not fly up to the suet cage and hold on with just one foot.  He kept falling off.  So he tried to hover a couple of times, flapping his wings as hard and fast as he could but was unable to get high enough to reach it. 

            I understood why he didn’t just nestle in the seed and eat to his heart’s content.  The bigger birds often flew low across him, trying to scare him away, and his fellow sparrows would jump at and peck him.  In the animal kingdom compassion is nonexistent.  So this little guy had to fend for himself and do the best he could.  I looked for him every day, wondering how long he would last before a bigger, stronger bird decided it wanted what he had and didn’t care what it took to get it.

            All of us have been one-legged sparrows at times.  We have problems.  We experience trials, pain, and suffering, both physical and emotional.  Just like that little sparrow, we often try to fend for ourselves, refusing to admit when we need help.  I don’t want to let someone close enough to find out what’s going on in my life.  It would make me look bad.  I might have to admit I am not perfect. 

            It’s humiliating to admit my marriage is in trouble.  It’s embarrassing to admit I have a weakness that is about to cost me my soul.  I am ashamed to tell people that I have a problem with my attitude, to communicate my feelings in an intimate manner.  You know what?  Most of the time they know it already, but we cannot get the help we need if we won’t let people in.  Refusing to admit weakness may be the biggest sign of weakness there is--it takes strength to admit we need help.

            I have a theory about all this.  If I cannot ask my brothers and sisters for help, I probably don’t have a real relationship with God either.  The same humility that allows us to go to others also allows us to admit our sin and ask God for grace and forgiveness. 

            A sense of independence may be the worst thing for your spiritual life because Christians must realize they cannot do it alone—whatever “it” is.  God expects them to trust and rely on him.  He has given us a spiritual family designed to help each other.  Christians understand that hopping around like a one-legged sparrow doing his best to survive on his own will ultimately lead to destruction.
           
Behold my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved with whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles. He will not quarrel or cry aloud, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets; a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory, Matt 12:18-20.
 
Dene Ward

We have a new wrens’ nest, this time in the old drain pipe at the side of the porch, the one we blocked up to reroute the rain away from the steps.  It’s fun to watch the mother shoot up the cut-off spout lightning quick, evidently hitting her avian brakes just inside so that all we see is her short stubby tail sticking out.  Then it gradually disappears from sight as she eases her way toward her nest. 

            I stood there the other morning after she had disappeared and listened to the cheeps and peeps of her babies as she fed them.  It was surprisingly loud, coming through that pipe, and it reminded me of a recent Sunday when our crowd of little ones suddenly out-preached the preacher.  He had to stop for a minute before he could continue on, but was quick to say, “Praise God for the babies.  Don’t ever be embarrassed at the noise your precious children are making.  Isn’t it wonderful to have so many?”

            Indeed it is.  I know of churches where there are none—zero—zilch—nada.   In fact, in some there are only a couple of people under 40 and only three or four under 60.  Yet some of those same churches sit on their laurels, talking of the past when their number was double, and looking to a time ahead when an upsurge in the economy will produce more jobs in the area and “possibly more Christians will move in.”  Excuse me?  Why don’t they do what the first century Christians they claim to emulate did?  Go out and make some more Christians with the people you already have on hand!

            There is another aspect of this.  I hear of people leaving churches “because there are no young people.”  Now it may very well be that the mindset of that group is antagonistic to the young, or at least not encouraging.  But in most places that is not the problem.  You have to start somewhere and that may very well mean that you and your family are the only young people.  How long it remains that way could be the reason God put you there. 

            Why not go to your young friends and bring them in?  Don’t apologize for the fact that the church is aged.  Most of the time, people do not go to a church for entertainment.  When they can finally be persuaded to go, it is usually out of spiritual need.  I don’t really think they will be as picky as you might think if those “old folks” are kind and loving to them.  And let me say it yet again, old folks have a lot to offer in wisdom and experience.  God could raise up young people out of these stones, to paraphrase the Lord.  The fact that he doesn’t puts the responsibility squarely upon us all.

            Jesus undoubtedly loved the sound of children.  He wanted them around him, and so should we.  I have seen far too many old curmudgeons wince and growl when a child was his idea of “too noisy” in the worship services.  The fact that their parents brought them, even knowing that they would very likely be embarrassed, not just that Sunday but the next and the next and the next, as they taught their precious charges the ins and outs of “church manners” (whatever that means), shows they have the humble hearts Christ sought in all his disciples.  Very likely those children will grow up that way too. 

            Let there be noise in the assembly, especially the noise of babies.  Praise God for the children!
 
And they were bringing unto him little children, that he should touch them: and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw it, he was moved with indignation, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me; forbid them not: for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall in no wise enter therein. And he took them in his arms, and blessed them, laying his hands upon them. Mark 10:13-16.
 
Dene Ward

I sat watching the birds a few days ago after returning from a trip, dog-tired and mind in a whirl.  I suddenly noticed the cardinals in the azaleas—six males perched on various branches, for once getting along instead of dive-bombing each other in a territorial squabble over the feeder.  Six bright red birds each with that signature crest standing high and “on alert.”  I have gotten so used to them, so jaded by having them right outside my window to wonder at virtually any time of day, that I had forgotten how beautiful they were.  In fact, I remembered a week or so before when I had wished them out of the way of the pudgy, little, brown wren so I could see him better.  He only comes once every few days, you see.

              Today is 42 years.  Have I gotten used to Keith that way?  He is there every morning and back every evening, after spending a day providing for me.  He calls every day after lunch to make sure I am all right.  On the weekends he is right outside the door, taking care of our things, repairing, improving, growing a garden to feed us well, and then making it look the way he knows I want it to.  When I have a bad day, a rough appointment, or a difficult surgery, he is always there to take care of me.  He has never once had a thought of betrayal or abandonment.  Have I forgotten just how glorious our relationship is?

            It is easy to see someone new and think he is more exciting.  It is easy to find someone’s interest thrilling, especially if she is a little younger.  Remember what drew you to your spouse in the beginning, the charm, the beauty, the stimulating conversations, and the common interests and goals in life.  Don’t think a pudgy brown wren is as beautiful as a bright red cardinal just because it’s the new chick in town.

            Despite the world’s scorn of marriage, God pictures it as a beautiful relationship, one he wanted with his people. 

            You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate, but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her, and your land Married; for the LORD delights in you, and your land shall be married. For as a young man marries a young woman, so shall your sons marry you, and as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you, Isa 62:4,5. And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the LORD, Hos 2:19,20.

            If that is God’s view of marriage, why do we stand by and let others demean it?  Worse, why do we not live up to its promises ourselves, for a relationship is only what two people make of it.

            A couple of years ago I almost literally bumped into an older gentleman at the grocery store.  He smiled and asked a question about some product on the shelf and then I went on my way, down the aisle, around, and back up the next.  He had done the same going his direction and so we once again passed and he made another comment.  I am a little slow.  It took the third or fourth time for me to realize what was up, and I casually mentioned “my husband.”  That was all it took.  He was polite but never bothered me again.  Here was a man who respected the institution.  He was interested, but not with a married woman.  He would not be, in the old parlance, “a home-wrecker.”

            I see little of that respect today.  A marriage is made to break just like any other contract, whenever it no longer suits us.  Working things out, growing through our trials, supporting one another “for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part,” are empty words recited for tradition’s sake and nothing more.  If I see someone I want, who cares if he is married?  That takes a mere pen stroke to undo.  In fact, why bother going through all that rigmarole in the first place?

            My opinion of marriage should be the same as my Father’s.  He thought so much of it that he used it to pattern his Son’s body, the church, “The Bride of Christ.” That he might present the church to himself, glorious…This mystery [marriage] is great: but I speak in regard of Christ and of the church, Eph 5:27, 32.  Full of glory, that’s how Christ sees his Bride.

            Have we grown jaded to this marvelous relationship, graciously given by a loving Father who knew what was best for us, and like many other things, corrupted its very nature to the point that it means little to nothing except a nuisance we must somehow put up with?  We might as well think the same of the Father who gave it. 

            Don’t get too used to the glory.
 
For your Maker is your husband, the LORD of hosts is his name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called, Isa 54:5.
 
Dene Ward

I have three bluebird houses.  I wondered one day what made a bird house a bluebird house and got an education I didn’t expect. 
            Did you know that bluebirds were once on the brink of extinction?  Their habitat was slowly disappearing.  Orchards with carefully pruned trees meant no more cavities in the trunks and branches, their preferred nesting sites.  Pesticides meant fewer insects for them to eat, and many of the bugs that survived were tainted with poison that killed the birds that ate them.  Encroaching civilization meant more house sparrows (which are not true sparrows) and starlings to steal their nests.  Bluebird houses put up by interested people and their careful monitoring of the nests has, almost single-handedly, saved them.
            But still, I wondered, what makes it a bluebird house?  Bluebird houses are built in dimensions bluebirds like, shallow depth of 3½ to 5 inches.  I guess they like it cozy.  A good bluebird house has good drainage and cross ventilation.  It also has no perch outside the entrance, which keeps away predators.  A sparrow-proof bluebird house will have a slot entrance instead of a round hole because sparrows do not like slots, while bluebirds don’t mind them. 
            As for the monitoring, songbirds have a notoriously bad sense of smell, so it is perfectly acceptable to open the houses and check the nest and the fledglings every day for parasites or “squatters.”  Monitors can even rebuild the nest if parasites are found without upsetting the bluebird.  They also know the different types of nests and remove the ones that are not bluebird nests.  After a successful clutch has hatched and flown, they remove the old nest and clean it out for the next. 
            Do you think I can’t get any lessons out of this?  Watch me.
            Too many times we get picky about the people we share the gospel with.  I have heard things like, “We need to convert them.  They’d be a good addition to the church,” a thought based upon the lifestyle and income of the family in question rather than their need for the gospel.  We “sparrow-proof” the church by making it unfriendly and unattractive to the people we don’t want to deal with—who wants people with real problems? 
            We aren’t the only ones with that bad attitude.  The Pharisees thought it terrible that Jesus taught sinners.  At least four times in the book of Luke we see them approaching either him or the disciples asking why he associated with such wicked people, (5:30; 7:39; 15:1,2; 19:7).  They turned their noses up at the very people they should have been trying to save.
            The first Christians were Jewish.  Guess who they did not want the apostles to convert?  Peter had to defend himself after he converted the Gentile Cornelius, Acts 11.  Defend himself, mind you, because he saved souls! 
            Then in James 2 we read of a church that didn’t want poor people among them.  They went out of their way NOT to welcome anyone who was not obviously well-to-do.
            If you have not seen attitudes like these, you are either blessed in the congregation you find yourself a part of, or not very old.  Keith was once chastised for bringing the “wrong class” of people to church.  They came from “the other side of the tracks.”
            The Lord didn’t die just for the bluebirds.  He died for those squawking, brash blue jays too.  He died for those territorial cardinals.  He died for those common, ordinary, dime-a-dozen sparrows.  He even died for those disgusting buzzards.  All those people need salvation too, not just the bluebirds. 
            Jesus told the Pharisees who questioned him three parables.  The last, the lost son, included an older brother who obviously did not want his little brother saved.  Jesus made it plain that the older brother was as much in need of grace as the younger.  It had to be obvious to those Pharisees that his remarks were directed to them.  They are directed to us too, when we try to make his house “for bluebirds only.”
 
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.  From now on therefore we regard no one according to the flesh… 2 Cor 5:14-16.
 
Dene Ward

I looked out the window one spring morning in time to see a cardinal hop from the ground to an azalea limb.  It was a windy, March day and the limb was small as a wire.  The bird may have hopped up to get away from the dangers on the ground, especially Chloe, nosing around under the bushes, but the way that small branch bobbed back and forth under its weight made me wonder how safe the cardinal actually felt.  It must have recognized its relative safety compared to things on the ground because it clung for dear life.  Eventually the wind calmed and the branch stopped swaying, and the cardinal found its way to a stronger branch and eventually to the feeder.

            Becoming a follower of Christ can be a little like that.  You jump up out of the big bad world, expecting safety and peace, only to find your life in an uproar.  Your friends are standoffish and your family actually angry with you.  They take your actions as a judgment against them or a sign of mental instability, or both. 

            Or perhaps you find yourself in a group of God’s people who are themselves in the midst of a crisis.  They are not as spiritually minded as they ought to be, they fuss and fight among themselves and even bicker in the parking lot. 

            Or maybe the group is as faithful and mature a group as you can imagine, actively seeking the lost in the community—that’s how they found you after all.  But some elements of the community are not pleased with their efforts, and so rumors are flying, perhaps labeling them scandalous and frightening names, or simply “spinning” things to sound as bad as possible.

            Whichever is happening, you find yourself on a thin limb blowing about in the winds of trouble.  What do you do?  How do you handle the turmoil? 

            One day when the apostles were in a boat on the Sea of Galilee, a strong wind suddenly swirled around them.  These were not inexperienced sailors.  They understood when a wind was dangerous and when it wasn’t.  Luke 8:23 tells us they were “in jeopardy.”  The boat was filling with water.  What boat?  The same boat in which Jesus lay fast asleep on a pillow.  Jesus may have accused them of having little faith, of not realizing yet who he truly was, so amazed were they that he could actually calm the wind, but at least they knew where to go.  They knew that if anyone could do anything, it was he.

            What do we do when the church finds itself in turmoil?  Too many just bail out with the excuse that if this is the church, they don’t want any part of it.  “Fair weather Christians” seems a good description.  Yet it is only in the storms that we can show the Lord, and ourselves, we are truly his disciple. (Gen 22:12)

            That cardinal knew that regardless the wind, being above the ground was safer than being on it.  Do we understand that regardless the problems it may face, being part of Christ’s body is safer than being out there in the world, with the Prince of this World for company?  Do we have enough faith to go to the Lord for help?  Will we ever reach the point that we are no longer frightened by things that should not matter to believers, or would he say to us as well, “Why are you afraid, oh you of little faith?” Matt 8:26.

            When we jump up to that spiritual Branch and find ourselves tossing in the winds of trouble, will we bail or have the faith to hang on tighter and never let go?
 
But you have come unto mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable hosts of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, Heb 12:22,23.
 
Dene Ward

I sat by the window today and marveled at the birds that had come to my feeder—the usual cardinals, titmice and chickadees, plus two kinds of doves, a wren, four catbirds, dozens of sparrows, a small flock of brown-headed cowbirds, a painted bunting, two goldfinch couples, a few pine warblers, a yellow-rumped warbler, new to the group this year, and a hummingbird buzzing above them all at his own special watering hole.  All these on the same day and that’s not all just in the past week.  We even had a ring-nosed gull drop by yesterday.

            What may be the most satisfying is seeing those we can recognize from times past.    Remember the cardinal with the broken wing?  (Check the July 2014 archives.)  He kept coming back for well over a year.  It has only been the past month or so that we haven’t seen him and it may well be he has lived out his lifespan, but he lived it far longer and better for coming here to fill his plate, heal, and grow strong again.  His wing was never quite straight after his mishap, but it grew plenty strong enough to fly him where he needed to go. He wasn’t the first sad and sick bird we have had.  If you have been with me awhile, you may remember the one-legged sparrow, and the brewer’s blackbird that was left behind when her flock flew northwest again—she was too sick to join them.

            I wonder what God sees when He looks out on His “feeder.”  We forget, I’m afraid, what our lives were like when we decided to take Him up on His offer.  It is too easy, when life has taken a good turn and we are so much healthier in spirit, to think it might possibly have been our own doing.  He is the one who comforted our mourning, who gave us a “garland” to replace our “ashes,” who took away our “spirits of heaviness” and gave us the “oil of joy” and a “garment of praise” (Isa 61:2,3) to replace the sackcloth life had thrown on us.

            The Lord came looking for us at the worst time of our lives, and because of that we now live in the best times, no matter what our physical circumstances may be.  We were all bruised reeds, but with tenderness and care He granted us the greatest of gifts, a spiritual healing that is eternal.  It is right to praise Him, to stand in awe, and to marvel.  But once in a while it wouldn’t hurt to remember the broken wings, the near fatal spiritual illnesses, the missing pieces of our hearts that He restored and what it cost.  Maybe our healed wings stay a little bent just to remind us where we were and what might have been without His amazing love.

            And always, we need to look for the others who need Him too.  There is room on the feeder for as many weak, sick, and dying birds as we can bring with us.  And then He can look with satisfaction one day on those who laid their burdens on Him, who allowed Him to care for them, who accepted His offer of love and grace.  And together we can marvel for Eternity.
 
Behold, my servant, whom I uphold; my chosen, in whom my soul delights: I have put my Spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the Gentiles. He will not cry, nor lift up his voice, nor cause it to be heard in the street. A bruised reed will he not break, and a dimly burning wick will he not quench: he will bring forth justice in truth. Isa 42:1-3
 
Dene Ward

Squirrels have distracted me a lot lately.  I am in the middle of folding laundry and suddenly one appears on the bird feeder at the window.  Instantly I am up to scare him off.  The little stinkers are persistent.  Not five minutes later he is back and I am up again.  Over and over all morning we go at it, and a chore that should take 10 minutes has suddenly taken more than a half hour.

            Other times I am walking through the kitchen toward yet another chore—paying bills, making beds, studying for Bible class—and there he sits again, looking right into the window while he munches on the birdseed, almost as if he is taunting me.  So I am off again on this merry-go-round ride and many times I even forget where I was headed in the first place.  More than once I have ended the day with things undone because of those aggravating, bushy-tailed rodents stealing the food right out of my birds’ mouths.

            We do the same thing in our efforts for God.  Some petty, relatively unimportant event can distract us and God’s mission goes undone. 

            What kinds of things?  Usually things that appeal to our pride.  I get my feelings hurt, I become aggravated with an annoyance of life, someone provokes me and that becomes the only thing I can think about.  It takes up my thoughts, my time, and my energy.  Suddenly I am no longer the messenger of God, but the messenger of my own sufferings.  I have to stop and tell everyone else how unfairly I’ve been treated, and what happens with whatever God wanted me to do?  Absolutely nothing.  I am too busy worrying about myself.

            Every righteous person under the Old Covenant was engrossed with God’s plan to send a Messiah.  Every decision they made had to do with fulfilling their part of God’s plan.  Even some of the bad decisions they made came from that good intention.

            Abraham left behind a home in the city and lived in tents for the rest of his life, wandering in a land he never owned.  He and Sarah tried to help God with the servants Eliezer and Hagar when, to their eyes, things were not going well with The Plan.  Abraham and Isaac procured special wives for their sons to help them with their parts in The Plan.  Rebekah deceived her husband because she was afraid he would pass the blessing of God’s purpose on to the wrong son.  Jacob’s blessings on his sons ensured a righteous tribe for the Messiah’s lineage.  The songs of David and Hannah show their own recognition of the redemption of man as God’s ultimate objective. 

            Remember that the people in the Gospels also lived under that old law.  Anna spoke of the infant Jesus “to all who were looking for redemption,” Luke 2:38, evidently more than one or two.  Simeon, a man “looking for the consolation of Israel” had been promised he would see the Christ, and then proclaimed, “Now let me die in peace,” Luke 2:25-29.  He could die happy not because he had gained great wealth, not because he had lived a life of luxury, not because he had succeeded in a prestigious career, but because he had seen that God’s plan had come to pass.

            Joseph of Arimathea, a wealthy man of the Sanhedrin, was willing to lose it all because he “was looking for the kingdom of God,” Lk 23:51.  Cleopas and another who walked on the road to Emmaus told the stranger they encountered, “But we hoped that it was he (Jesus) who should have redeemed Israel.” 

            Those people lived and breathed the plan of God in their lives.  They were willing to give up everything to see it come about.  Do we think the plan is finished, that now we can just worry about ourselves and our own petty concerns?  Paul actually had to tell the Corinthians that they should be willing to be defrauded to keep from harming the reputation of the church, God’s kingdom here on earth.  We aren’t even willing to give up parking places and favorites pews to visitors whose souls might be saved! 

            It’s time to stop putting ourselves forward and, like our righteous brethren of old, remember the reason for it all—salvation.  If Almighty God can put us first in his thoughts and plans, why are we so presumptuous and arrogant to believe that we don’t have to put His purpose first in our lives?  We are no better than the idolaters who rejected Him when we allow anything to divert us from the object at hand.

            I must stop being distracted by the “squirrels” in my life, and work on the job I have been given today and every day, for as long as I possibly can.
 
But I am afraid that as the serpent deceived Eve by his cunning, your thoughts will be led astray from a sincere and pure devotion to Christ. 2 Cor 11:3
 
Dene Ward

I have learned to be careful when I feed the birds.  The feeder is right up against the house next to my “sitting window,” behind the azaleas.  The azaleas run five to ten feet tall so that three foot tall feeder is well hidden, and so am I when I load it up.  As I make my way on the leaf-mulched bed, I watch where I put my feet and also look over to the side down through the twisted limbs where those popular members of the rhododendron family disappear into the ground.  Too many times I have scared away a snake, always the harmless variety—if you don’t count the heart attack they might give you upon spying one that close by—but you never know.  In fact, I have the dogs trained to go into the narrow opening against the house ahead of me to clear the way, good little protectors that they are.

            So I was feeling perfectly safe the other day, when something made me look up to the side.  At eye level, only a foot from my face, a tree snake was lying on an azalea limb, perfectly still and exactly the same color as the limb.  No, I didn’t scream.  I did duck though and get past him a little faster than I ordinarily would have, loaded the feeder and scrambled out of there.  Keith saw it that evening, even closer to the feeder, trying its best to snatch an easy meal off its surface.  He donned a pair of gloves, grabbed him and threw him over the fence.

            Three days later he had not been back, so I was feeling safe again.  I had learned not only to watch the ground, but the limbs between me and the feeder too.  I made it all the way to the feeder, and started loading, edging my way to the end which sits smack up against the old antenna tower, the only reason we have to go the long way around through all those azaleas anyway.  As I made my way back, I looked over my shoulder and there was a garter snake, this time lying on the limb of an azalea at the east end of the bed, well past the point where I had been watching.  When I had my back to it, I was probably not more than three feet from it.

            That evening as we made our after-supper stroll around our place, we spotted him again.  This time he lay right out in the open, a good six feet from the lush, leafy shelter of the azaleas.

            You can think you are safe.  You can think you are watching where you need to be watching.  Do not enter the path of the wicked and do not walk in the way of the evil, the Proverbs writer says.  Avoid it; do not go on it; turn away from it and pass on, Prov 4:14,15.  If I stay out of the bars and away from the bad side of town; if I watch the company I keep, surely I will be safe from sin. 

            And don’t you know that Satan knows that’s how we think?  Who had Judas been with for over three years when he decided to betray the Lord?  What company had Peter been keeping the morning before the evening he denied him?  If anyone could have been safe from sin, strong enough to endure temptation because of their surroundings, surely it would have been those two, who traveled with the Lord himself.  But no, they fell even more catastrophically than the others, who simply ran and stood afar off.

            So are any of us safe?  Am I saying we are all doomed?  No.  I am saying that we need to be careful all the time, no matter where we are, no matter whom we are with.  Jesus once looked at Peter and said, Get behind me, Satan, Matt 16:23.  He understood that temptation can come when you least expect it, even from those you consider your support group.  That doesn’t mean they are out to get you too; it just means they sometimes fail just like you do. 

            Sometimes I am the Satan that gives bad advice, or makes a careless comment.  Sometimes you are.  We must watch all the time.  We must look for that snake on every limb, under every bush, and sometimes right out in the open where you least expect him to be.  As soon as he thinks you aren’t watching, he will sneak up over your shoulder and nab you.

            Do you think I am not two, three, four times more careful when I go out to feed the birds now?  That’s exactly how we need to be every day of our lives.  If you only wore your seat belt on the day you knew you would have an accident, would you go anywhere at all that day?  You need to be on the lookout for temptation every day.  Don’t just avoid the obvious places.  Look in the places where you least expect it. 
 
In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one…to that end, keep alert with all perseverance, Eph 6:16,18.
 
Dene Ward

I have been thinking about that old saying the past week.  I think it means that if I don’t want people to think I’m stupid, I should stop acting that way.  I thought about it when that snake came back the fourth time.

            I looked out one afternoon across the birdfeeder built right up against the house to the azalea bushes just beyond it.  One limb looked a little odd. I must have stared at it for ten minutes before Keith noticed, and looked too.  “There’s a garter snake in the bushes,” he said.  I had thought so, but could not see it clearly enough to be sure.  Finally after three years, a snake had figured out that someone had put an all-you-can-eat bird buffet out for him, and he was sitting there just waiting for his meal to light.

            We did not want to hurt the snake.  A near relative of his had lived under the house for a few years and kept our rodent population down to something we could handle.  We hoped he would do the same, but that did not mean he could go after my birds.

            So Keith put on some gloves and knocked him out of the bush.  Magdi was on him before we could stop her, but Keith yelled and took the snake away from her, flinging it over the north fence.  We were not certain it would have survived her vicious shake—she treats them like a bull whip and usually breaks their backs with only a couple of cracks.  Not to worry.  Two days later I looked out and there was the snake again.

            This time Keith went out with an old rake handle and knocked him off the limb.  Magdi knew what was up this time, but despite her increased vigilance, the snake slithered away under the steps and we could not get it to come out.

            Until two days after that.  I was getting ready to leave that morning and looked out to check the feeder and there he was again.  Not being as fearless as Keith, I stood way back and whacked that bush so hard I broke the branches, but once again the snake got away from Magdi.

            The fourth time he did not wait two days.  He was back in one, and I was home alone again.  I grabbed the pole and set off for the bird feeder.  I stood there for several minutes thinking he had left because I could not find him through the limbs.  Suddenly I thought to step back and look up, and there he was about a foot higher in the bush than he had ever been before.  But that meant that when I knocked him out he had farther to fall and must have been a little more addled because Magdi got him before he could crawl away. This time she shook until that snake was a lifeless rubber hose.  I could almost hear his spine cracking as she slung it about.

            I am sorry about that.  I will be sorrier this winter if I have a mouse or two in the house.  But really—how long does it take some snakes to learn? 

            Are we any smarter?  How long does it take for us to learn?  I have seen Christians put themselves in spiritual danger over and over and over all my life.  “I can handle it,” they say, despite the Biblical warnings to flee, to abstain, to be watchful; despite the things God lists in black and white as the biggest dangers to our soul—wealth, power, sexual sins, anger, pride, and the tongue.  We all think we are different; that we won’t be tripped up and fall. 

            I have seen it happen too many times to ever think it could be different for me.  If we choose to defy the odds, sooner or later we will be knocked “out of our tree,” and Satan will jump on us and shake us until our spiritual back is broken and we can no longer stand against him.

            Stupid is as stupid does.
 
Now these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come. Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall, 1 Cor 10:11,12..
 
Dene Ward