My floor is finished. I am thrilled to have my house back to myself after three weeks of sharing it with the installer.  He was a nice guy.  My dogs loved him.  He brought them stale doughnuts every morning.
             
The morning after he finished I stepped outside to an empty carport and
the sound of silence where there should have been the click of claws and pad of paws on concrete, rushing to greet me.  I started up the drive and there they were—sitting next to the gate, gazing down the road, obviously pining for the man and his doughnuts.  
          
I called them back.  Chloe came more or less eagerly, but Magdi stopped every ten feet or so and looked over her shoulder toward the gate.  I had to call and clap my hands every so often to keep her coming my way.  
 
This has happened for several mornings now.  I may pet her, and do it often, but I don’t give her doughnuts.  She has sold her soul to a new master just for a doughnut!

What do we sell ours for?  We may even think we have not.  Magdi still lives on our property.  She still comes when we call.  She still allows us to medicate and feed her the healthy stuff, but all the time she is looking over her shoulder toward the gate, yearning for a doughnut.

Are we still showing up at the right places, saying the right things, even acting the right way most of the time, but secretly looking over our shoulders, longing for something else?  We needn’t even bother trying.  No man having put his hand to the plow and looking back is fit for the kingdom of God; remember Lot’s wife, Luke 9:62; 17:32.

I cannot explain to the dogs that if they lived on a steady diet of doughnuts they would actually die of malnutrition, not to mention the woes that come with obesity.  They just know that a nice man gave them something that tasted
good.

We should be smarter than a couple of dogs.  We should have the sense to know that the things we sell our souls for are not worth the end result—not wealth, not power, not social acceptance, not a physical high that only lasts a moment, not the satisfaction that comes with vengeance or simply putting someone in his place.  
 
Whatever it is we are selling ourselves for, however smart it may appear
to the world, however good it may feel, it might as well be doughnuts.  

Then Jesus said to his disciples, If any will come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.  For whoever will save his life shall lose it, and whoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.  For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?  Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?
Matt 16:24-26.

Dene Ward

Until we got Chloe, we had always practiced what pet owners know as “self-feeding.”  You fill up the feed pan and a few days later, when you notice that it is finally empty, you fill it up again.  Magdi always just ate what she needed to eat and no more, like most animals do.  In spite of the fact that she was an athlete who worked off an incredible number of calories every day, she was never tempted to overeat.

Then came Chloe.  We kept up with the “self-feeding” once she started eating adult food because we wanted to make sure she got enough.  Magdi had a tendency to claim the feed pan as hers and guard it whether she was eating or not.  But we should have realized when we stood over Chloe and looked down that she was getting plenty to eat.  Instead of a straight line from her shoulders to her hind quarters, there was a significant bulge on each side.  When we took her to the vet, the doctor strongly recommended a low calorie diet.  Self-feeding does not work with Miss Piggy dining in the doghouse.

In just a couple of weeks of measured daily feeding she slimmed down. She was much more active, running with Magdi across the fields as they played, and tearing up the ground to greet Keith at the gate when he came home.  She even leapt into the air chasing a bee a few weeks afterward and managed to get all four feet off the ground a foot or more.  We no longer have a piglet with a cold wet black nose and a wagging tail.

God practices a sort of spiritual self-feeding.  His word is available to us any time we want it.  He has given us elders, wise leaders who see to our more formal spiritual meals, and who take that responsibility seriously.  But we can reach into the “pantry” any time we want and snack to our hearts’ content.  In fact, the shame is that instead of looking pleasantly plump in a spiritual sense, too many of us look like we have been on a fast.  When I have labored over a meal for several hours and hardly anyone comes to the dinner table, and those few just pick at their meals, I get a little miffed.  Don’t you suppose God does, too?

Now, more than any other time in history, and here, more than any other place in the world, we can study the Bible any time we want to.  Where is our appreciation of the providence of God?  Where is our hunger for the meat of the word?  Have we filled ourselves up with the empty calories of pop culture and the simple carbs of modern philosophy to the point that we have no room for real food? 

Take a moment today to examine what you are taking into your spirit, what you are filling your soul with, and determine to make a change in your spiritual diet.  Jesus called himself the Bread of Life.  Aren’t we interested in that life at all?

Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, as it is written, He gave them bread out of Heaven to eat.  Jesus therefore said unto them, Amen and amen, I say unto you, It was not Moses who gave you bread out of Heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread out of Heaven.  For the bread of God is that which comes down out of Heaven, and gives life to the world.  They said therefore to him, Lord, evermore give us this bread.  Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of Life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes on me shall never thirst, John 6:31-35.

Dene Ward

            Until we got Chloe, we had always practiced what pet owners know as “self-feeding.”  You fill up the feed pan and a few days later, when you notice that it is finally empty, you fill it up again.  Magdi always just ate what she needed to eat and no more, like most animals do.  In spite of the fact that she was an athlete who worked off an incredible number of calories every day, she was never tempted to overeat.

            Then came Chloe.  We kept up with the “self-feeding” once she started eating adult food because we wanted to make sure she got enough.  Magdi had a tendency to claim the feed pan as hers and guard it whether she was eating or not.  But we should have realized when we stood over Chloe and looked down that she was getting plenty to eat.  Instead of a straight line from her shoulders to her hind quarters, there was a significant bulge on each side.  When we took her to the vet, the doctor strongly recommended a low calorie diet.  Self-feeding does not work with Miss Piggy dining in the doghouse.

            In just a couple of weeks of measured daily feeding she slimmed down. She was much more active, running with Magdi across the fields as they played, and tearing up the ground to greet Keith at the gate when he came home.  She even leapt into the air chasing a bee a few weeks afterward and managed to get all four feet off the ground a foot or more.  We no longer have a piglet with a cold wet black nose and a wagging tail.

            God practices a sort of spiritual self-feeding.  His word is available to us any time we want it.  He has given us elders, wise leaders who see to our more formal spiritual meals, and who take that responsibility seriously.  But we can reach into the “pantry” any time we want and snack to our hearts’ content.  In fact, the shame is that instead of looking pleasantly plump in a spiritual sense, too many of us look like we have been on a fast.  When I have labored over a meal for several hours and hardly anyone comes to the dinner table, and those few just pick at their meals, I get a little miffed.  Don’t you suppose God does, too?

            Now, more than any other time in history, and here, more than any other place in the world, we can study the Bible any time we want to.  Where is our appreciation of the providence of God?  Where is our hunger for the meat of the word?  Have we filled ourselves up with the empty calories of pop culture and the simple carbs of modern philosophy to the point that we have no room for real food? 

            Take a moment today to examine what you are taking into your spirit, what you are filling your soul with, and determine to make a change in your spiritual diet.  Jesus called himself the Bread of Life.  Aren’t we interested in that life at all?

Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, as it is written, He gave them bread out of Heaven to eat.  Jesus therefore said unto them, Amen and amen, I say unto you, It was not Moses who gave you bread out of Heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread out of Heaven.  For the bread of God is that which comes down out of Heaven, and gives life to the world.  They said therefore to him, Lord, evermore give us this bread.  Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of Life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes on me shall never thirst, John 6:31-35.

Dene Ward

Every time I go outside Chloe comes running, tail wagging, waiting for me to scratch her head.  If my hands are full, she butts the back of my leg with her nose until I manage to free my arms, bend over and scratch her head. If I am taking a load somewhere, she follows along, and I feel that little round nudge constantly all the way until FINALLY  (I am sure she is thinking) she gets
that longed for scratch on the head.  
 
This morning I suddenly wondered if I do that with God.  Am I so anxious for His attention that every morning I can hardly wait to talk with Him? Or do I just leave Him in the back of my mind until I can find a spare minute, and if He is lucky,  I might actually have a whole minute?

Yes, Chloe is making a little pest of herself to get my attention, but do you know what?  It doesn’t bother me a bit.  In fact, I find myself hurrying to put down my armload so I can pat her even sooner. It’s endearing to have a little creature want you so much.  Some days I go outside just to see her run up to me with that swishing tail, and actually sit down and spend a few minutes with her for no other reason  than to be with her.  I guess that’s what happens when your children grow up and the dogs are all you have around to dote on.

What was it Jesus said?  If you then being evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven, give good things to those who ask him? Matt 7:11.  I don’t for a minute pretend to understand how God feels about things, but Jesus gives us a hint here.  If I, an imperfect person who sometimes still allows sin into my life, can love my
children enough to give them good gifts, if I can still care enough about a
small animal to want to satisfy its desire for attention, what will God not do
for me? If that small child’s pestering endears him to me because it makes me know he wants to be with me, certainly if it can happen with an animal’s little nose bumping my leg, won’t my pestering do the same for God?  
 
And to the other side of the question, if I act like God’s attention means little to me, why should He give me any of it when I decide I could use it?  My mother always says, “If I say to God, ‘I’m too busy for you right now,’ what’s to keep Him from saying that to me?”  I think she has a point there.

And he spoke a parable unto them to the end that they ought always to pray, and not to faint; saying, There was in a city a judge, who feared not God, and regarded not man: and there was a widow in that city; and she came often to him, saying, Avenge me of my adversary. And he would not for awhile: but afterward he said within himself, Though I fear not God, nor regard man; yet because this widow troubles me, I will avenge her, lest she wear me out by her continual coming. And the Lord said, Hear what the unrighteous judge says.  And shall not God avenge his elect that cry to him day and night and yet he is longsuffering over them? I say unto you, that he will avenge them speedily.  Luke 18:1-8.
 
Dene Ward

Lucas bought me a bird book for Mother’s Day one year.  This was not your average Audubon Society coffee table slab.  On the side of the book is a speaker, a push button and a tiny screen.  Each page in the book pictures a North American songbird with the usual blurb about its range, habits, and call.  Under the bird is a number.  When you put the correct number on the screen then push the button, you will hear that particular bird, actual recordings taken by the ornithology lab at Cornell University. 

I’ve heard the ugly squawk of blue jays all my life.  It seems fitting for this thug of a bird which bullies smaller birds and steals nests.  I’d been hearing a bird with a clear wooden whistle call for years.  I was positive it was a cuckoo, based solely on the cuckoo clocks I have heard, but as soon as I checked the cuckoo’s sound in my book, I knew I was mistaken.  On a whim one day, I punched in the blue jay’s number, wondering why in the world it was considered a songbird.  Suddenly a wooden whistle came floating out of the speakers.  This was a blue jay?  This was the sound I had become so enamored with?  It had never dawned on me that a bird could make more than one sound.

So blue jays were not the kindest birds in the forest.  I loved hearing that loud, clear call of theirs, and the fact that a blue jay could make such a lovely sound was strangely uplifting. I knew I would miss it if suddenly it disappeared.

How many times do we let our judgment of people, especially people we disagree with or have dealt with in less than ideal circumstances, keep us from seeing anything good about them?  How many times do we filter our views, not through the rose-colored glasses of kindness, but through a specialty lens we grind ourselves, one of malice that blocks out the good and magnifies the bad?  Ounce for ounce, hummingbirds are among the most vicious creatures on earth, actually attempting to impale one another on those long, sword-like beaks as they fight over the feeders we humans put out, yet we ooh and aah over them.  I really don’t think that the people with whom I have personality conflicts are actually out to murder me, so why can’t I see any of the pluses in their characters?

Isn’t there a human blue jay in your life?  Find that person today and take off the blinders.  Do something kind; say something kind.  Instead of pushing the button that releases a squawk, push the button that brings beautiful music.  Give him a chance to show his good side.  Isn’t that what you wish he would do for you?

The wicked one craves evil; his neighbor gets no mercy from him, Prov 21:10.

Love suffers long and is kind…does not behave itself unseemly, seeks not its own, is not provoked, does not keep track of evil…bears all things, believes all things, and hopes all things…love never fails, 1 Cor 13:4-7. 

Dene Ward

We were only in that big old frame house for 5 months, but I will never forget it.  Uneven flooring, tall drafty ceilings, and, when we moved in, no heat and no running water.  It was January 1st.  We sat around the table in hats and coats eating oatmeal or soup for every meal, and hauling water in buckets.  Eventually the truck company next door let us hook our garden hose to their well spigot.  We pulled the hose through an inch wide gap under the kitchen window and ran it into the sink beneath, which at least made the haul shorter. 

After about a week the well man came out and fixed the pump, and the gas man filled the tank.  Still it wasn’t warm.  Room-sized gas space heaters in the bathroom, kitchen, and living room did little to mollify the effects of fifteen foot ceilings and cracks between the planks in the floor through which we could see the ground three feet beneath.  It was the coldest winter I remember in this area—but maybe it was just that house.

When early spring rolled around I remember standing on the back stone steps in the sun—probably for the warmth.  Keith was on his haunches petting the dog, a black and brown mixed breed we had picked up at the pound a year earlier and named Ezekiel.  The boys were standing next to him listening, probably to some daddy advice.  They were 4 and 2, oblivious to our living conditions, and perfectly happy. 

Suddenly the breeze picked up and over the house something floated down out of the sky and landed across Keith’s shoulders, hanging down on each side of his chest.  It was a snakeskin.  When we figured out what it was, he couldn’t get it off fast enough.  It must have been four feet long, with perfect scale imprints all along its length.  It creeped me out, as the kids say these days.  I still shudder when I think of it.  Maybe that’s why I still remember that house so well.

I remembered that house and that event again recently when we passed a fifty gallon drum by the woodpile and there lying across it was another perfect snakeskin, three feet long, hanging over each side of the barrel.  They still give me the creeps when I see them, or the heebie jeebs, or whatever you choose to call that horrible feeling that runs down your spine and makes you shiver to your shoes.  Maybe it’s because I know that somewhere nearby there is a real snake.  I can’t pretend there aren’t any out there simply because I haven’t seen one lately.

I’m sure you could make of list of things that give you that feeling.  What worries me is that nowhere on anyone’s list is the three letter word “sin.”  It ought to give us the creeps to be around it, to see its effects on the world, people fulfilling their every lust, their hearts full of hate and envy and covetousness, lying as easily as they breathe.  It ought to make us shiver to hear the Lord’s name taken in vain from nearly every mouth, even children, or the coarse, crude, vulgar language that passes for conversation—and entertainment!-- these days.  Why?  Because you can be positive the Devil is somewhere nearby.  He’s just waiting to drop out of nowhere and drape his arm around your shoulder.  Before you know it, you will be dressing like everyone else, talking like everyone else, and acting like everyone else.  In short, you will be like everyone else, walking around swathed in snakeskin, hugging it to yourself instead of ripping it off in disgust.  

Don’t think it can’t happen to you, especially if sin doesn’t give you the creeps to begin with. 

The fear of the LORD is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate... Seek good, and not evil, that you may live; and so the LORD, the God of hosts, will be with you, as you have said. Hate evil, and love good, and establish justice in the gate; it may be that the LORD, the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph…Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good, Prov 8:13; Amos 5:14,15; Rom 12:9.

Dene Ward

            
We had never heard of Australian Cattle Dogs until a neighbor gave us a
puppy nearly thirteen years ago. We were so happy with Magdi, we got another one, Chloe, who is now six years old.  This breed is one of the newest in existence.  As you might guess, they originated in Australia and have wild dingo, Welsh heeler, Australian kelpie, Dalmatian, smooth collie, and bull terrier in their bloodlines. The breed standard was finally set and approved in 1903. That means they will breed true both physically and temperamentally, which is what makes a breed a breed.
             
What exactly are they bred to do? Herd cattle, of course. They do this by nipping at the cattle’s heels, and thus their other name, heelers.  As the breed was being developed this caused a few problems. Some mixes made dogs that did not just nip, but bit down and wouldn’t let go.  Others nipped, but then just stood there and had their heads kicked in by the cattle’s hooves. Finally they got the combination that produced a dog smart enough to nip and duck!
             
Our dogs do their best to herd, in spite of the fact that we have no cows. Magdi started trying to herd the two of us when she was just a few months old. As we walked around the property, she would cut across in front of us trying to turn us in the direction she wanted us to go. We had to be careful not to trip over her. Then whenever we stood still she would lie across our feet so we couldn’t go anywhere. Chloe tries to herd Magdi.  She nips at her heels all the time until Magdi gets her fill of it and snaps at her. The two of them chase any vehicle that comes down the drive, nipping at its “heels,” the back tires.  And together they try to herd squirrels. Whenever a squirrel runs up a tree, they are truly mystified—this is not the way it is supposed to work.
             
You know what we are “born and bred” to do? Worship God.  He has set
eternity in our hearts, Eccl 3:11; he has made his existence obvious through his creation, Psalm 19, Rom 1:19,20.  As the writer of Ecclesiastes concluded, Fear God and keep his commandments for this is the whole of man, 12:13.  The fact that people ignore all this and refuse to worship just shows that they are blind, rebellious fools according to Jeremiah 5:21-29.
             
Australian cattle dogs are not house dogs. They are not even yard dogs in today’s version of a backyard that takes about fifteen minutes to mow.  These animals need to run.  They need property and owners who exercise them more than a walk in the park every day. They are bred for prolonged activity daily. They are also bred to be fiercely loyal to and protective of their masters for life—they cannot be adopted by a new family once they have reached adulthood. Their loyalty will always be to their first family. If you take away their place to run and the masters they love, they will be miserable.
             
Have you noticed how miserable people seem today? Have you seen the perpetual anger that shows itself in road rage, domestic violence, and even the verbal abuse of waitresses and clerks in restaurants and stores? Have you seen how crime is not only growing but blamed on anyone and everyone who had anything to do with the criminal?  People are not doing what they were “born and bred” to do—serve God and each other.  Haven’t we seen enough insanely wealthy people satisfying their every desire who are still
miserable?  When will we ever catch on?  
             
They say that an Australian cattle dog is one of the most intelligent breeds there is, “capable of making decisions regarding himself, his owner and
family, his job, and his home territory,” according to the American Kennel
Club.  Sounds to me like they might be smarter than most humans.

But ask now the beasts and they shall teach you; and the birds of the heavens, and they shall tell you; or speak to the earth, and it shall teach you; and the fishes of the sea shall declare unto you.  Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this?  In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind, Job 12:7-10.
 
Dene Ward

Before one of the surgeries, Keith built a bird feeder outside the window next to my favorite chair--a metal trough about five feet long on a wooden frame. I must admit I have enjoyed this thing a whole lot more than I expected to. We keep it filled with birdseed and Keith hung a cylinder of suet over it as well. 

First the cardinal couple came to dine. They spend their time in the trough with the seed. The suet is not their cup of tea, so to speak, but several others seem to prefer it  A hummingbird came and hovered next to it, trying his best to figure out how to get the nectar out of it, but finally gave up and flew back to the hummingbird feeder on the other side of the house.

Then the catbird came calling. He stood under it, with the bottom of it just out of reach. First, he tried the hummingbird’s trick, but a catbird cannot hover, he quickly found out as he fell with a splat into the trough. Then he started jumping up and down, trying to peck when he reached the height of his jump, once again falling into the trough, this time nearly doing a backward somersault. Poor bird, I hope he didn’t hear me laughing at him, but you never think about a bird being so awkward as to fall on his backside. Maybe he did hear me, because he left and did not come back for a long time.

The next morning I looked out and a wren had landed on top of the hanging suet and calmly leaned down, pecking away. Every so often he looked around as if to say, “See? This isn’t so hard.” After a few days he had pecked away most of his sure-footing. The top of the suet was no longer flat, so gradually one foot would slide down and hang onto the side. Every morning he pecked away until finally there was no room at all on the top and both feet clung to the side of the suet. Then came the day he got a little too self-confident. I looked out and he was hanging upside down from the bottom of the suet. His little feet curled in tightly and deeply and he seemed to have a good hold, but he had not reckoned with his desire to eat. He pecked so hard that he pushed himself off the suet and he, too, landed on his back in the trough. Was he embarrassed? No way. He just hopped back up on the side and kept pecking. There are things more important than saving face.

Along came a little gray titmouse with his gray crest, big ringed eye, and the slimmest breast I had ever seen on a bird. He too, figured out how to land on the suet, hang on, and peck. Then one morning the suet cylinder fell and lay across the trough. Here comes the catbird ready for an easy meal. The titmouse arrived shortly after and must have known something about catbirds. He sat in the azalea and squealed ferociously until he finally scared the catbird away. As soon as the titmouse had eaten and left, the big coward came back, but not long afterward the cardinal couple flew at him and off he went again.

All of this makes me think about our efforts to feast on the bread of life. Do we mind looking a little foolish sometimes in our eagerness to learn and grow spiritually? Do we give up after one or two tries if things are more difficult than we expected? Are we too frightened to admit we live on the Word of God—afraid we won’t be accepted by our peers, afraid we will be ridiculed, afraid no one will like us any more, afraid it may cost us socially, economically, or maybe some day, even physically?

The little birds at my feeder teach me profound lessons every day. Sometimes I need a prod to be more like the feisty little titmouse or the ingenious little wren who couldn’t care less how his hunger for suet makes him look. Sometimes I need to be reminded that there are more important things than what everyone thinks about me, and that fear of others can make you look the most ridiculous of all. Indeed, if a tiny little titmouse can scare away a big old catbird all by himself, why can’t I make Satan’s minions run away, especially with all the Help I have at hand?

As newborn babes long for the spiritual milk which is without guile, that you may grow thereby unto salvation, 1 Pet 2:2.

Dene Ward

 I may have mentioned before the black and white cat we had many years ago, Abby.  It was not long before he developed the reputation of a scoundrel for the way he treated our gullible lab Bart, and Nathan called him “the devil cat” for he had many devilish ways.

 Sometimes I like to take a break from gardening or housework and sit in the swing under the grape arbor.  Truly I plan to sit for only a few minutes!  But Abby would seize the opportunity, jump into the swing beside me and start purring.  Once that purring started I could not help but pet him, and he would creep closer, often placing one paw in my lap.  Then he would look up with that sweet furry face, purring even louder.  Do you know how relaxing it is to pet a purring cat?  Before I knew it, he was in my lap, and a half hour had gone by, along with all my good intentions.

He also liked to pretend he was a lion.  Our garden was the Serengeti.  Whenever I went out to pick he would creep along, hidden in the pea and bean rows, stalking my feet.  When he decided that the gazelles were least aware that he, the king of the beasts, was upon them, he would attack.  The first time it happened, my instant reaction was to kick, and he landed about twenty feet away in the cucumbers.  Talk about clueless; the look on his face was almost worth the blood he had drawn.  After that he learned to be gentler in his play, but I also learned to keep an eye on the moving shadows among the beans.

 This leads me to that other lion, who goes about seeking whom he may devour, 1 Pet 4:8.  James tells us to resist the devil and he will flee from you, 4:7.  Try booting him across the garden and see if he doesn’t leave you alone for awhile.  If you are lucky he will land in the okra patch and itch so much for the next few days that you will be the last thing on his mind!

But watch out--just like my little lion, he will try a new tack and visit you again.  There may come a time when you have to flee instead of fighting, 1 Cor 6:18; 2 Tim 2:22.   Other times he will get you because he is so cute or handsome or personable or comfortable, and before you know it, you are doing something you had no intention of doing. Even Satan fashions himself as an angel of light.  It is no great thing therefore if his ministers also fashion themselves as ministers of righteousness, 2 Cor 11:14,15.  (Have you ever seen a really ugly false teacher?)

Our world likes to view Satan as a laughable boogey man made up by irrational fanatics.  It is easy to forget he is real.  He is out there.  Like a hungry lion, he wants you!

 Finally, brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of his might; put on the whole armor of God that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.  For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.  Wherefore take up the whole armor of God that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Eph 6:10-13

 Dene Ward

I used to jog.  As my vision has decreased, my exercise regimen has changed as well.  The jog became a walk, then a walk with trekking poles as support, and now an indoor elliptical machine.  But I miss that outdoor time---six laps of a ½ mile plus each.  No, I did not get bored walking around in circles every day.  I have learned more about wildflowers, trees, and birds than ever before, and my dog and I have a game we play that I am positive she has made up rules for.  The walk is also an excellent time for prayer and meditation. 

About the only thing I did not like about the path was the occasional spider web, especially when I was surprised by a face full of one.  Like all predatory traps, they are practically invisible.  If I were a fly instead of a human, I would have been snared and eaten a long time ago.

One morning as I came east across the north end of the property, I passed through a shaft of sunlight shining on a web ahead of me, turning it into spun gold.  Just in time I was able to stop, grab a twig from the ground, and wipe the web out of my path.

Satan is never called a spider, but his traps are exactly like those spider webs.  They are invisible.  Unless you shine the light of God’s word on them, you will walk right into them.  They may even look attractive, like the beautifully intricate web I saw that day.  We must never forget that they are as deadly to us as a spider web is to a fly.

The opening of your word gives light;
            It gives understanding to the simple.
I opened wide my mouth and panted,
            For I longed for your commandments.
Turn unto me and have mercy on me,
            As you do to those who love your name.
Establish my footsteps in your word,
            And let not any iniquity have dominion over me.
Psalm 119:130-133

Dene Ward