We put up several new feeders recently, along with some new bluebird houses and a couple of small birdbaths.  We hoped to increase both the numbers of birds visiting us, as well as the varieties, and we succeeded.  The very first day our usual birds had multiplied and there on the ground was a new one.  It didn’t take long to find him in the bird books I have—a brown-headed cowbird.

The cowbird is a member of the blackbird family, and it is easy to think him some sort of blackbird.  That brown head is not obvious at a distance.  He stretches 7 to 8 inches from head to tail, glossy black with a chocolate brown head and a pointed gray bill.  Cowbirds do, however, have a negative trait—they lay their eggs in the nests of other birds, then go off and expect that bird to raise their young.  Sometimes the host bird will destroy the unfamiliar eggs, but far more often, they will raise the cowbird nestlings, often neglecting their own.  Cowbird chicks are so much larger than the hosts’ chicks that they take most of the food and leave the others hungry.

Do you know what they call birds that steal nests and abandon their young to others?  Parasite birds.  I had never thought of it that way, but it is a legitimate biological classification.  Cuckoos do it.  Wood ducks do it.  In fact, about 750 species of birds do it.

Humans wouldn’t do that, would they?  We wouldn’t ignore the sanctity of marriage between one man and one woman, breaking up a home at will just because “I want him now,” or “I don’t love her any more.”  Why can’t I steal someone else’s nest if I want it?

I have things I want to do, a career that makes me important.  I’m not made for taking care of children--I shouldn’t be saddled with these kids.  Why can’t the government raise them for me?  Why can’t I hire someone to do the dirty work?  Why can’t I lay my eggs in someone else’s nest and expect them to be responsible for my children?

Why do I have to work to support my family?  Why should I have to control my physical hungers?  Why can’t I live as I want and not have to bear the responsibility of what follows?  Why can’t I deposit my burdens in someone else’s lap to pay for and tend to?

I wonder if biologists have a class of human called “parasitic.”  “Entitlement” comes to mind; “selfishness” as well, not to mention “irresponsibility.”  God holds us accountable for our lives, for our health, for our families, for all the privileges we claim, especially in the most blessed society in the world.  He expects us to exercise self-control.  He expects us to be mature in our choices and responsible for them.  He expects us to be considerate of others in those choices too.

Now that I have about 95% of you agreeing with me, let’s take it one step farther.  What about Christians who deposit their children in Bible classes and expect the church to teach them?  Sometimes parents will see that the child does his lesson, but sometimes the teachers are lucky if a workbook accompanies a child at all, much less one that has been well-studied and filled out.  The Bible tells us that parents are to teach their children, not the church.  It is certainly commendable to take them to Bible classes, but the example they see many, many more hours a week at home is the one that they learn from.

The brown headed cowbird is one of the most disapproved of birds in the avian world.  Why is that we think the same sort of behavior, in any of its manifestations, should be acceptable, even applauded, in ours?

But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without natural affection, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people. 2 Timothy 3:1-5

Dene Ward

I walked out to turn off the sprinkler the other morning, and Chloe ran up to me as she always does, looking for a pat on the head.  I reached down out of habit, but all I felt was a cold, wet nose.  That wasn’t enough for her, so she kept right on bumping my leg until I stopped and actually got hold of fur, rubbing her back and chest hard and fast just as she likes.

I chuckled to myself when I realized what that cold, wet nose meant:  she was doing fine.  A warm, dry nose would have had me stopping in my tracks to check her out, but a cold wet one kept me headed for my destination without a second thought.

Funny the things that signal to us that everything is all right.  Out here in the country we lose our power so often that as we near home after a long trip I start looking at the neighbors’ houses to make sure their lights are on.  Nothing worse than coming home dog-tired and finding no power and no water.  The warmly lighted windows along the highway ease my mind.

Did you ever think what must have been the signal to God that things were not fine in Eden?  Yes, God knew it the moment it happened, but for a moment give me a little poetic license.  God looks down and what does He see?  Fig leaves where there should be nothing.  Even Genesis remarks on that first. She took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked and they sewed fig leaves together…

God looked at His children in their perfect home and knew that they were no longer fit to live there—those fig leaves gave them away.  “Who told you you were naked?” He asked Adam, and the jig was up.  I wonder if now He isn’t saddened by seeing us this way, if the very clothes we wear aren’t a constant reminder of His original intentions for us, and the sin we so willfully brought into this world.  Now He sees us and sighs for what could have been. 

Even worse, those very clothes that He made to cover the sign of our iniquity, have become objects of sin themselves—apparel that causes men to lust with its lascivious intent, attire that brings division to His Son’s body when the self-righteous try to legislate what is right and wrong to wear in the group worship, more or finer clothing that causes envy in others.

I wonder what God thinks when He looks down on our brimming closets, where we stand moaning that we “have nothing to wear?”  Surely when He sees our clothes he must think of what it cost Him and His Son.  Surely those piles of shoes remind Him of the piles of sin His children have committed.

Who would have thought that, just like those aprons of fig leaves, the dress I wore Sunday morning, and the suit my husband chose and the tie he so carefully knotted would be a sign that everything is not all right?  Dressing every morning should remind us of what we have lost and the price tag attached to those clothes. 

How much does that designer label matter to you now?

Do not let your adorning be external--the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear-- but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious, 1 Peter 3:3-4.

Dene Ward

If you were to ask the boys what their dog’s name was, they would name Bart, the big yellow lab.  Bart was born in our dog pen when they were 10 and 12, and all three of them grew up together.  Eleven years later, when we finally had to put him down, it was a sad day for all of us, but Lucas put it most succinctly when I asked how he was. “Today my dog died.”  It did not matter that we already had another one.  It did not matter that we had one when he was three, who lived five years, nor did it matter that we had Bart’s mother nearly as long as we had him.  Bart was the one they played with, the one they rolled around on the ground with, the one they hiked through the woods with, the one they lay their heads on in the field when they were gazing up into the sky at the clouds, talking, dreaming, and planning their lives.

Bart was a good dog, sweet and lovable, and I knew my boys were safe with him.  But he was hands down the dumbest dog we ever had.  Even his mother (his dog-mother, not me!) got a kick out of tricking him. 

Once we laid out a pan of rib bones for them both.  If Bart saw anything come out of the house in our hands, he immediately thought it was good food, and usually wolfed it down before he could possibly have tasted it.  His mother was well aware of that.  As soon as we laid down that pan, she stood up with her ears pricked, and started running down the drive barking.  Bart, of course, fell in step beside her and, being bigger with longer legs, soon outran her, heading for the gate, a couple hundred yards away.  His mother stopped and watched to make sure he was still going all out to get the nonexistent boogey man, then calmly walked back to the pan of ribs.  By the time Bart figured it out and came back, Mom had had her fill and she left the remainder for her “little boy” to finish up, which he did in about thirty seconds.  He never really seemed to understand what she had done to him, even though we all stood there laughing until our sides nearly split open.

That was Bart for you.  Once I threw out some sweet potato skins just to see what would happen.  He gulped down three of the four before he realized he didn’t like them and quit.  Lucas, who could go through a quart jar of my dill pickles in two sittings, once poured the leftover brine into a bowl and took it outside.  I am sure this was not just his idea.  His little brother seems to be the prankster in the family, and I do recall that Nathan was out there watching too, laughing the most as Bart slurped up about a cupful of the salty, vinegary concoction.  He finally stopped and looked at what he was drinking.  The worst part was that he also looked at the boys like he was thinking, “You gave this to me, so it must be good.  Why don’t I like it?”  Instant guilt trip!  

And then there was the time I threw some trash into the burn barrel and lit it.  Bart was so sure it must be good food that he licked the side of that red hot barrel, as I was frantically screaming, “No!”  He ran around in circles trying to make his tongue stop burning.  I gave him some cold water to drink, but I doubt he really quit hurting for a day or two.

And that is exactly how we do with sin.  Our friends are involved in it; society accepts it; it must be okay, and we wolf it down without a second thought.  So why is my life falling apart?  Why do I feel so bad about what I am doing?  It cannot possibly be that this stuff does not taste as good as everyone says it does.  Are we being as gullible as that big dumb yellow lab of ours?  The answer is probably yes.  Unfortunately, we sometimes don’t even have the sense he did to finally realize sin does not taste that good and quit.  And also unfortunately, one can develop a taste for things that really don’t taste very good at all.  And sooner or later our tongues will be burned on the garbage we have tried to ingest into our souls. 

God does have your good at heart.  He will not play any tricks on you.  Listen to what He says about how to live your life, and you will find that everything will taste a whole lot better.

Oh taste and see that Jehovah is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.  Oh fear Jehovah, you his saints, for there is no want in those who fear him.  The young lions lack and suffer hunger, but those who seek Jehovah shall not want for any good thing, Psa 34:  8-10.

Dene Ward

My dog hates taking her medicine.  Whether it is the monthly squirt of heartworm medication or the monthly application of flea and tick preventive, it takes two of us to do it—one to hold her down and the other to do the dirty work.  Not even a treat at the end will dampen her withering glare when it’s over.  We have betrayed her and she makes sure we feel her scorn.

Actually, I think that is pretty normal.  Which is why, when someone I know has tried to admonish a brother and someone else says, “Now he [the sinner] is upset,” I want to say, “Well, duh.”  No one likes to be corrected.  I certainly don’t, no matter how hard the other guy tries to be nice about it.

And no one I know likes to be the corrector.  In spite of what we may hear about all those “bad attitudes” people supposedly have when they correct others, everyone I know approaches the ordeal with fear.  They know they will more than likely lose a friend, be attacked, or wind up with a damaged reputation.  Why is it that when a godly person rebukes a sinner and the results are less than optimal, that we automatically believe the sinner’s version of events, rather than the godly person’s?  That’s not even logical.

So when it comes to taking spiritual medicine, I need to remember three things:

First, be brave.  God says when I see someone in sin and I do not warn them, he will hold me accountable.  When I say to 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.  Ezek 33:8.  Regardless of the grief it is likely to cause me, God expects me to care enough about a soul to try anyway.

Second, be charitable in my judgment of a corrector.  Believe that he did his best, and went with the best attitude.  That poor fellow took the risk of a no-win situation because he cared; he deserves my support, not my criticism.  Besides, if I thought I could do better, why didn’t I?

And finally, when it comes my turn to take the medicine, swallow my pride along with the pill, no matter how bitter it is, recognizing that someone cared enough about my eternal destiny to try to help me.  After all, medicine will make you feel better in the end, won’t it?

Brethren, if a man be overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to yourself, lest you also be tempted.  Gal 6:1

Dene Ward

I remembered recently a walk Chloe and I took one morning when she was still a puppy.  It was a particularly nice day.  The steam bath of a Florida summer had given way to the milder warmth of early fall.  Migrating birds had stopped for the breakfast buffet in the nearby woods.  My hawk called good morning from high overhead.  A breeze fluffed up the grass and sent cotton ball clouds scudding across the sky.  Our world was filled with beauty and peace.

All of a sudden, down at my feet, Chloe belched.  This was not the dainty puff of air I sometimes hear from our older heeler, who then looks at me with embarrassed, downcast eyes.  This was a full-blown, open-mouthed belch that, proportionate to her size, would have rivaled any beer-bellied redneck.  I laughed out loud from the sheer shock of it.  I had never heard a puppy belch.  I didn’t even know it was possible.  Puppies are cute; puppies are playful; puppies are sweet and innocent.  Hearing Chloe belch certainly ruined that image.

Unfortunately, image is one thing and reality is something else entirely. Sometimes we forget that and set ourselves up for a lot of disappointment that could be avoided.  And sometimes that disappointment costs us our faith.

Consider this one thing, among many others:  how much more shocked are we when a preacher or elder falls?  “What hypocrites!” we instantly accuse.  Yet, isn’t it a poor preacher who cannot preach better than he can practice?  Why should his inability to be perfect (which we have no problem telling him about otherwise) keep us from trying at all?  The reality is we all fail once in a while, even though our image of them says they shouldn’t.

Whenever someone says to me, “I’ll never go to that church because some of the people there are hypocrites,” I usually answer, “Even the apostles had a Judas among them, but they did not let that make them forsake their Lord.” 

To those who leave the church “because of all the hypocrites,” Keith usually says, “And you are going to leave the Lord’s church in their hands?”  You see, what it all boils down to is yet more excuses for our own behavior.

No matter how well put together people seem on the outside, everyone has problems.  Sometimes the worst problem anyone can have is trying to live up to another person’s image of him.  If anyone knows he is not perfect, it is usually the one whom everyone else thinks is.  Not preachers, not elders, not elders’ wives, not great Bible scholars—no one is without fault.

That person you think is a perfect wife?  Once in a while she nags.  That person you think is a great husband?  Once in a while, he leaves his dirty clothes in the floor.  That couple you think have a perfect family?  Once in a while their children roll their eyes at their parents and actually rebel a little.  That one you think is always so kind and sweet?  Once in a while she loses her temper. 

Never blame your own faithlessness on the imperfections of others.  No one is perfect.  Don’t let your image of how things ought to be, rob you of your faith when reality checks in.

Even puppies belch.

If you, O Jehovah, should mark iniquities, who could stand?  But there is forgiveness with you that you may be feared.  I wait for Jehovah, my soul does wait, and in his word do I hope.  O Israel, hope in Jehovah, for with Jehovah there is lovingkindness, and with him is plenteous forgiveness.   Psalm 130:3,4,7.

Dene Ward

We have shared our lives with a lot of animals over the years.  Two who grew up with our boys were Bart and Abby.  Bart was a big, friendly, yellow lab, who trotted up to anyone who would pet him, and wagged his tail so hard his whole rear end swayed.  Even in his senior years, he got as excited as a puppy every time any of us called him.  If you stopped petting him, he would carefully place his head under your dangling hand to remind you he was still there.

I remember one morning when Abby, the black and white “cow” cat, walked up to him.  They had already established a friendly, if cautious, relationship, even rubbing noses upon occasion, but Bart knew to stand still with his muscles bunched until he discovered what mood Abby was in.  Sure enough, Abby nuzzled sweetly, stroking Bart’s huge leg with a tiny white paw.   As soon as Bart relaxed, Abby walked around behind him, lifted a paw, and whapped his rear end hard enough to send him running.

Abby had been fooling us since we first got him at the age of six weeks.  We named him Abigail, and by the time we discovered there was more hiding beneath his fur than we had first thought, he knew his name, and we were stuck trying to find a male version of Abby.  Abigail became Abner, at least on the vet’s records.  He learned early how to get what he wanted.  If we were walking outside and he decided he needed to be held, he would throw himself bodily in front of us on the ground.  If we stepped around him, he would follow along and do it again and again until he finally wore us down and we picked him up. 

Those two pets always reminded me of Jesus’ admonition to be “wise as serpents and harmless as doves.”  The Lord expects us to have no malice toward anyone, always willing to help those who need it, whether they deserve it or not.  On the other hand he also expects us to be on guard.  It is hard to strike an even balance.  Some lean toward naiveté and others toward cynicism, each one rationalizing himself and criticizing the other, when possibly what they both need is moderation—it isn’t that you choose only one side of this coin; it’s that you flip it as the occasion requires..  Jesus never let himself be caught in the traps of the scribes and Pharisees, but he was willingly led to the cross “as a lamb to the slaughter.” 

Sometimes I hear prudence castigated as a lack of faith.  Jacob prayed that God deliver him from the hand of Esau, then the next morning, sent gifts to appease his brother, Gen 32:11ff.  Many impugn his faith because of that.  But tell me, as my son Nathan likes to point out, if you saw a known murderer in your front yard, wouldn’t you go inside and lock the door before you prayed?  In fact, might you not call 911 as well?  How easily we judge when it is someone else’s neck on the chopping block.  Was Paul faithless when he escaped his enemies in Damascus over the wall in a basket?  Why didn’t he stay if he had faith that God would care for him?  In fact, he went on to Jerusalem after Agabus told him he would be imprisoned there.  What was the difference?  It may be difficult to know, but as long as we take the time to consider all of our decisions, putting our service to God at the top of the list instead of such things as financial success, as long as we live our lives by a faith that trusts no matter what, He will be pleased.

Jehovah is on my side; I will not fear: What can man do unto me? It is better to take refuge in Jehovah than to put confidence in man, Psalm 118:6,8.

Dene Ward

Chloe is growing quickly.  She is now seven months old and about two-thirds the size of our seven year old Australian cattle dog Magdi.  Sometimes I have to look twice to tell which one I am looking at.  Yes, I know that does not mean much considering the state of my vision these days, but I know these dogs.

Chloe, however, is still very much a puppy.  She will bring her small football to you to throw over and over, or her old rag to play tug-o-war again and again after she manages to yank it away from you.  You will always wear out before she does.  She prances and cavorts, romps and darts, and any other word in a thesaurus describing playfulness. 

A few weeks ago she started chasing butterflies.  We have all sorts our here in the country, black and orange monarchs, yellow and black swallowtails, sapphire blue and black hairstreaks, and the ubiquitous canary yellow sulphurs that flit all over, changing direction almost faster than your eye can follow.  Those are Chloe’s favorites to chase, maybe because they are smaller.  Some of the swallowtails are nearly as big as her head.

One morning, after Magdi had already left my side, and Chloe was still prancing along, another yellow butterfly flitted into our path.  Just as usual, Chloe chased it.  And then, when she least expected it, she caught it.  The look on her face was shock, then panic as the butterfly evidently kept on flitting inside her mouth.  Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and the butterfly flew out, none the worse for wear, and Chloe happily resumed the chase.

I thought then, once again, of Jesus’ admonition to become as little children.  Was this yet another way that children are superior to adults, at least in the kingdom?  They do not realize that, with their feet firmly planted on the ground, they should not be able to catch something that can fly.  They do not know when something is supposed to be impossible.  They do not know the meaning of “illogical.”  They do not know what science has and has not discovered.  How often do we let our maturity in the world rob of us our childhood in the kingdom?  How often have I uttered that pessimistic comment, “It’ll never work?”  How often do we look at a new Christian, especially one who has come from a difficult background, and say, “He won’t last?”  How often do we look at the physical to judge the spiritual--placing our trust in things that look strong and effective on the outside, and never allowing childlike trust to take a chance on God’s power—and why, oh why, do we even consider that “taking a chance?”  Why do we refuse to pray for the impossible? 

Magdi often plays with Chloe, especially in the cool of the evening, but more often she is content to sit and watch.  She keeps a good humor about her most of the time, but sometimes Chloe’s high spirits annoy her.  When Chloe is chasing a butterfly, not paying attention to where her romps take her, and she runs right over Magdi, she is often rewarded with a growl, or even a nip.  When Magdi actually snorts, it seems for all the world like a grumpy old woman saying, “When will she grow up?  She will never catch the thing, and she is always getting in the way and causing me trouble.”

I suppose Magdi doesn’t remember the day she jumped over three feet off the ground and caught a bird on the wing.  I mourned the beautiful cardinal, but her form was beautiful, elegant, and to see a dog jump higher off the ground than she is tall and catch a flying bird is amazing.  You see, Magdi was a puppy once, too.

Maybe only silly little puppies chase butterflies and birds; but then, only puppies catch them.

Woe to those that…rely on horses, and trust in chariots because they are many, and in horsemen because they are very strong, but they look not unto the Holy One of Israel, neither seek Jehovah, Isa 31:1.

Jesus, looking upon them said, With men it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God, Mark 10:27.        

Dene Ward

            Today’s post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

My parents have an Australian cattle dog named Magdalene, Magdi for short.  This dog is amazing.  She loves chasing tennis balls, and Dad got a used tennis racquet just to hit them farther and faster for her.  I’ve seen her jump, with all four feet at least three feet off the ground, to catch a ball.  I’ve seen her literally do a back flip in her effort to get at a ball that took an unexpected hop.  I’ve seen her catch a ball over her shoulder like a football receiver.   There is a reason I gave her the nickname, “The Amazing Wonder Dog.” 

I have also seen her land flat on her face going all out for a ball.  I’ve seen her jump for a ball, twist wildly in the air to get her mouth on the ball, and land on her tailbone.  She is now seven years old and is more than a little creaky.  It is an obvious effort for her to stand up.  She walks with a weird, sideways gait.  She still wants to chase balls, but we have to be careful now not to bounce the balls so she will have no reason to jump.  Her wild abandon in her desire to get those balls has cost her.  Somehow I think that if she knew as a pup that chasing those balls would leave her arthritic, she still would have chased them.  She loves it that much.

She makes me think of Paul.  He loved the Lord so much that he threw himself into it with a wild abandon.  Read 2 Cor. 11 to see the punishment he took in his overwhelming desire to serve the Lord.  (By the way, that list was written before he was arrested by the Jews in Jerusalem, turned over to the Romans, and shipped to Rome.  During that trip he was again shipwrecked.)  But it is obvious that Paul didn’t care about the beating his body was taking in his service to the Lord.  He loved the Lord that much, and looked to his reward, which he knew was worth the cost.  2 Cor. 4:7  “For our light affliction, which is for the moment works for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of Glory.” 

Do we throw ourselves into our service to the Lord with a wild abandon not caring what the earthly consequences might be?  Or do we hold back?  Do we fail to speak to others about the Lord because we’re afraid people will think us odd?  Do we fail to help others in need because we want to invest that money for our retirement 30 years from now?  Do we hold back to reduce earthly consequences?  Or do we throw our whole beings into his service?  There is no earthly reason you can’t be an amazing wonder Christian!

Romans 8:18.  For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed to us-ward.

2 Timothy 4:7-8.  I have fought the good fight.  I have finished the course.  I have kept the faith.  Henceforth, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give to me at that day.  And not to me only, but also to all them that have loved his appearing.

Lucas Ward  

           
My dogs brought me a present the other afternoon.  I walked out onto the carport and there by my chair, where I like to sit in the morning with my last cup of coffee, lay a dead possum.  Not just any dead possum—this one they had buried for awhile so it would age properly, then dug up to lay before my “throne.”  I imagine that when the wind blew the right way, my neighbors knew about my present too.

I have had cats bring me equally lovely gifts before, but this was a first for dogs.  As you can imagine, I did not jump for joy.  In fact, I hardly expressed any appreciation at all.  I had not felt very good that day—these medications do a number on my stomach, and this gift, no matter how sincerely it may have been meant, did not help.

These two small creatures rely on me for everything.  I feed them, make sure they have their vaccinations and medications, care for them when they feel bad, and play with them when I have the chance.  And for that little bit they want nothing more in this world than to please me.  Red heelers are often called “Velcro dogs” because they stick next to their masters’ sides.  Magdi and Chloe will even turn their noses up at a treat just so I can pet them.  Loving is much more important to them than food. 

And if for any reason I am displeased with them, their ears go down, their heads bow, their tails are tucked and they practically crawl on their knees to me.  Magdi will rub her head against my leg over and over.  I know she is saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”  If she isn’t, she certainly has me fooled.

So how do I treat my Master?  Do I want nothing more in the world than to please Him?  Do I repent on my knees in abject sorrow when I know I don’t?  Or am I too proud for that?  Do I truly understand that any gift I give is really no more to Him than that dead possum was to me?  Do I appreciate that I can never repay what He has done for me, and therefore try my best to show gratitude and reverence with the gift of obedience and faith, a gift that still falls far short of repayment? 

Sometimes I wonder if dogs show more respect for their masters than we do for ours, and their masters are anything but perfect, holy, and awesome.  Maybe we should take a lesson.

For we are all become as one who is unclean, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away…Even so you also, when you have done all the things that are commanded you say, “We are unprofitable servants.  We have done that which it was our duty to do,” Isa 64:6; Luke 17:10.

Dene Ward

We have a new puppy.  Chloe is an Australian cattle dog, a companion for our 6 year old Australian.  They are great dogs, playful, loyal, and smart—too smart sometimes for their owners’ good! 

Magdalene, our older dog, seems to enjoy the little one, even though she did have to growlingly remind her yesterday that her tail is NOT a chew toy.  They both walk with me now, Chloe struggling with her short legs and puppy-plump tummy to keep up, and we look like a parade as we make our morning laps.  Magdi has developed some arthritis in her hips so they sit out after the first two rounds, but Chloe still had excess energy this morning.  She wanted to be with Magdi, but wanted to run too, so she compromised by running circles around the patient older dog, by turns prancing and ripping back and forth, turning on a dime, as that breed is capable of doing, and yipping playfully.  I thought, as I rounded my last bend and came upon this scene that no matter what the scientists tell me about dogs not having emotions, if she did not have it, Chloe was managing a very good impression of pure, unadulterated joy.

First century Christians had that feeling in spades.  I did a study on joy recently.  Do you know what surprised me?  Not a single time does the New Testament say their joy was caused by the physical things in this life—not their health, their wealth, their careers, their homes, not even the weather—is listed as a cause for their joy at all.  If it’s in there, I missed it.

What caused their joy?  Hearing the gospel, Acts 13:42; being baptized, 8:39; having a hope, Rom 12:12; being counted worthy to suffer dishonor for Christ, Acts 5:41; being afflicted, 2 Cor 7:4; being persecuted and having their possessions confiscated, Heb 10:32-34; being put to grief through trials, 1 Pet 1:6-9; becoming partakers of the suffering of Christ, 1 Pet 4:12-16—whoa, now!  What’s going on here?  Are these a bunch of masochists or what?

The problem is that we confuse joy with happiness.  Hap-piness comes because of things that hap-pen, as does un-hap-piness.  Joy is an overriding foundation for how we live our lives.  I may experience moments of unhappiness, but as long as I do not let them overcome my life of joy, I am able to survive with that joy intact.  I may lose my belongings, lose a loved one, contract a serious illness, even face death, and still not lose my joy. 

All those things that caused joy in the early Christians are based upon having a Savior who has gone through every type of problem I ever will have (Heb 4:15), and more than that, gave up an incomprehensible position (Phil 2:6,7), and separated himself from the Father for the first time in all Eternity (Matt 27:46), all so I could have salvation.  Anything I have to face in this life, no matter how dire, is petty compared to that.  That is why I should only experience moments of grief.  To make a “career” of sadness is to devalue everything He went through for me.  Nothing I have to face is worse than He faced so that I might some day be in a place where joy will reach its full potential.

Maybe, as Thoreau said in Walden, “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation,” but not Christians.  We lead lives of joyful anticipation.

Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial among you, which comes upon you to prove you, as though a strange thing happened to you; but insomuch as you are partakers of Christ’s sufferings, rejoice, that at the revelation of his glory also you may rejoice with exceeding joy.   1 Peter 4:12,13

Dene Ward