On our last camping trip we had reserved an especially good site, along with its neighbor for Lucas, three months in advance.  We arrived and after three hours were nearly set up when the ranger arrived to tell us that the next day a controlled burn was scheduled right on our edge of the campground and we would have to move.  It was not a happy event.  Not only would we have to tear down and start again less than an hour before sunset, but none of the other sites were as private. 

            Privacy is not that important when you sleep in a trailer or RV, but in tents with paper-thin walls it makes a difference.  Our new sites were smack dab in the middle of the campground and so small and close together that I could hear Lucas snoring in his tent next site over.  In fact one night, he and Keith were snoring in rhythm, and the night after Lucas started a snore on the inhale and Keith finished it on the exhale, perfectly synchronized.  Yet when the controlled burn passed the campground we were glad we had moved.  Even with the wind blowing in the opposite direction, the ash would have fallen on our equipment and melted holes in it.

            We also learned a lot about controlled burns.  There are two reasons for controlled burns.  When the underbrush is allowed to spread unchecked, all that extra fuel makes wildfires more destructive.  Also, in a pine forest, the controlled burns keep the hardwoods from taking over.  The day after the burn every small hardwood was smoking and burned to a crisp while the pines stood tall and strong, if a little charred on the bottom.

            As Christians we must experience times exactly like these controlled burns.  Perhaps the most difficult “burns” to understand are the problems among God’s people.  If the church is the body of Christ, why do people behave badly?  Why do divisions happen and heresies lead people astray?  The Proverb writer tells us that God will use the wicked, whether they want to be used or not, Prov 16:4.  Paul says in 1 Cor 11:19, For there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized. 

            The question is not will there be problems in the church?  The question is, when there are problems will we be able to “recognize” those who are not genuine believers?  I fear that too many of us look to the wrong things. 

            Do I believe one side because they are my friends, never even questioning their words, while automatically dismissing the other if among them is a brother I don’t like too much?  Does “family” make the decision for me?  Am I relying on how I “feel” about it, instead of what the Word actually says?  Does it matter more to me who can quote the Big-Name Preachers instead of the scriptures?  Is one side more popular than the other?  Will it give me more power if that side wins the fight?  When I rely on those types of things, I am the one who is showing myself to be a less than genuine believer.

            While these things are necessary, it doesn’t mean God likes them, any more than he liked the Assyrians who fulfilled their purpose in punishing his wayward people. 

            Ho Assyrian, the rod of my anger, the staff in whose hand is my indignation! I will send him against a profane nation, and against the people of my wrath will I give him a charge, to take the spoil, and to take the prey, and to tread them down like the mire of the streets. Howbeit he means not so, neither does his heart think so; but it is in his heart to destroy, and to cut off nations not a few... Wherefore it shall come to pass, that, when the Lord has performed his whole work upon mount Zion and on Jerusalem, I will punish the fruit of the stout heart of the king of Assyria, and the glory of his high looks, Isa 10:5-6,12. 

            Jesus presents a similar viewpoint when he says in Matt 18:7, Woe unto the world because of occasions of stumbling! For it must needs be that the occasions come; but woe to that man through whom the occasion comes!  These things have their place and their purpose, but God will punish the ones responsible. 

            Now the hard part:  The apostles did not tell the early church that it was understandable to become discouraged and leave because their idea of the blissful, perfect institution was often marred by sin.  They said to use that experience to double check where we stand, to make sure we are among the true believers, the tall pines that withstand the blaze instead of the scrub brush and interloping hardwoods who try to destroy Christ’s body.

            Those controlled burns in the pine forests happen every three years.  Who knows how often the church needs cleansing but God himself? For me to give up on the Lord and his body because someone causes trouble, because peace among God’s people sometimes seems hard to come by, means I am giving up on God, failing to trust that he knows best. You may get a little singed, but it is cleansing burn, far better than the eternal burn that awaits the factious.
 
Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves. By their fruits you shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree brings forth good fruit; but the corrupt tree brings forth evil fruit…Therefore by their fruits you shall know them, Matt 7:15-17, 20.
 
Dene Ward
           

Blackwater River State Park has become one of our favorite in-state campgrounds.  Even as small as it is, we always make new discoveries.  Down by the river, rising among the raised wood plank picnic pavilions stands the Champion Atlantic White Cedar.  What made it a champion, I wondered, and research led me to some amazing facts.

            At first I assumed that “champion” referred to age.  Online I found a list of the world’s oldest trees.  The oldest tree in Florida is a Pond Cypress called “The Senator,” reputed to be the seventh oldest in the country at 3500 years.  Evidently there is a method of determining age besides cutting it down and counting the rings.  The Senator lives in Seminole County and also holds the record for the largest tree in the state, measuring 425 inches in circumference (that’s a trunk over 35 feet around), a 57 foot crown spread, and a height of 118 feet. 

            Finding the distinction between oldest and largest eventually led me to another discovery.  Trees are labeled champions because of their size, not their age, and there is a champion for every species.  There are state champions and national champions, and Florida has more national champions than any other state.  The Senator is, in fact, a national champion.  Even my own Union county, the smallest in the state, has a Florida Champion, a Blue Beech Hornbeam, standing 37 feet tall, with a 40 inch circumference and a 36 foot crown spread.  Obviously a Blue Beech Hornbeam is a smaller tree than a Pond Cypress, so its champion is smaller as well.

            That may be my most important point this morning—God does not judge us by comparing us to others, but according to our own circumstances and abilities.  Just look at the parable of the money (Matt 25).  Each man received a different number of coins (opportunities) based on the ability the Master (God) knew he had.  The servant was not allowed to decide his abilities—if he had the ability the opportunity was given, and if he didn’t it wasn’t.  By turning away from the opportunity (burying his coin), the one coin servant was not only unfaithful, but disobedient and presumptuous as well.

            Yet I see other points also.  We often make champions of our own using the wrong standards.  Appearance has nothing to do with God’s champions.  That Atlantic White Cedar in the panhandle park is gnarly and weather-beaten, with a splintery gray bark studded with the stubs of broken off limbs.  But isn’t that what you would expect from a tree that has withstood more than a century’s worth of floods, winds, and hurricanes?

            What makes these trees champions is the fact that they survive longer than others of their species.  And ultimately, isn’t that what makes one a champion of faith?  When a person survives trial after trial with his faith intact, God labels him a champion. 

            A tree will continue to grow as long as it survives, so there is yet another element of championship—not only does your faith survive, but it becomes stronger.

            Early on, Abraham, even after receiving a promise involving his “descendants,” of which he as yet had none, felt compelled to save his own life with a lie instead of trusting God to do so in Genesis 12 and 20, and actually laughed at God’s promises in Genesis 17.  Yet by Genesis 22 he could offer his son as a sacrifice “accounting that God is able to raise up, even from the dead” that same son and fulfill his promises, Heb 11:19.  God had seen something in this man and patiently led him as his faith grew.  It took well over fifty years from the first promise to the ultimate test Abraham finally passed.  His steady growth made him the champion of the Jewish race and “a friend of God.”

            Who are your champions?  How do you choose them?  You probably have more to choose from than you think when you use the right standards, people standing around you within arm’s length.  Fame and fortune, even relative fame and fortune in the brotherhood, has nothing to do with it!  Choose carefully, using God’s standards, and finally, one day, become someone else’s champion, having survived the worse Satan has to throw at you, and coming out stronger on the other side.
 
But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart." 1 Sam 16:7.
 
Dene Ward

One of our favorite parts of camping has always been the food!  Every night we cook over a wood fire—burgers, chops, steaks--everything tastes like it came from a five star gourmet restaurant when you have oak and hickory burning under them.

Keith starts the fire about a half hour before we need it, stacking one inch square split pieces of wood in an open crisscross pattern.  The flame is often three feet high and roaring.  Do you think that is when we cook?  No, not unless you want scorched raw meat.  The fire must burn down to the point that the flames are gone and all that is left are red coals.  Now it’s time to cook.  That inch or two of quiet embers is far hotter than a three foot high roar.
He opens the folding grill over them to burn it clean, and places the meat of the night six to ten inches above the heat, sometimes over to the side if, as is the case with chicken, we need to make sure it gets done all the way through before the outside chars. 

Children look at the two fires and it seems totally counter-intuitive to them.  Surely the bright high flames make the hotter fire and the softly glowing embers the coolest.  Then they hold their hands out and discover their mistake.
Babes in the Lord can make the same mistake about the faith of others.  Surely the loud showy faith is the real one.  Surely the person who shouts amen and holds up his hands is more passionate about his love of God than the member who sits and quietly listens or bows his head.  I have lost count of the number of young people I have heard say they admired someone’s faith when it was the former type and not the latter.  The loud faith may well be just as sincere as the quiet, but if that’s all you look for, you will miss some of the best advice, the best encouragement, and the best examples of resilient faith in a life of trial that ever sat in front of you—or behind you, or even right next to you on the pew.

You are smart to look for help and encouragement in another’s faith.  Just be smart about the signs you judge it by.  Loud might just as easily be hot air as roaring fire.
 
Take away from me the noise of your songs; for I will not hear the melody of your viols. But let justice roll down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream. Amos 5:23-24
 
Dene Ward

I’m sitting in my camo-mesh lounge chair in front of a campfire, the flame whirling up in a mini-tornado, the smoke wafting down the hillside away from the tent site.  The sun peeks through the leaf canopy dappling the brown, red, orange, and yellow foliage-strewn ground just enough to moderate the cool air into [long] shirtsleeve weather.  Pieces of crystal blue sky show here and there, grayed occasionally by a patch of camp smoke.  The titmice nag at us from the saplings and bushes at the foot of tall pines, hickory, beeches, and red oak, while a woodpecker alternates his door-knock pecking and his manic laugh.

            The campsite could not have been laid out any better.  A long back-in approach left us plenty of room to unpack boxes, coolers, and suitcases, and still have room to stack firewood and set up tents on a perfect length tent site, something not always easy to find for a 16 x 10 tent.  The table fit nicely inside the screen and the fire ring is far enough from both the tents to avoid sparks.

            The park itself is beautiful, lakes, valleys, mountain tops to hike—no hike longer than three to four hours, some appreciably shorter.  The bathhouses are clean with plenty of hot water and strong sprays from large showerheads.  The campsites afford as much or as little privacy as one wants—take your pick.  It is quiet and peaceful, yet only ten minutes from grocery, gas, and pharmacy.

            We’ve been here six days now—perfect park, perfect campsite, perfect weather.  We haven’t even had our customary day of rain, nor even an overcast morning.  So this is not the trip to test our mettle as campers.  It’s all been way too perfect.  But you know what?  We won’t have many stories to tell from this trip.  Oh wait!  Our forty year old electric blanket did give out on us the first—the coldest—night.  And don’t you see?  That’s the story we’ll be telling—and that’s when we found out we were seasoned campers.  We shrugged our shoulders and snuggled a little closer together in the double sleeping bag.

            Peter tells us that God will test our mettle as His servants.  Wherein you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been put to grief in manifold trials, that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold that perishes though it is proved by fire, may be found unto praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ, 1 Pet 1:6-7.

            Too often, instead of passing the test, we use it as an excuse.  We say, “I know I didn’t do well, but after all, I was dealing with such difficult circumstances.”  Instead of growing and getting better and stronger, we blow up as usual and then apologize yet again.  If we were really improving, the apologies would become less frequent, and one day, perhaps, unnecessary.  That’s what God expects of us.

            He doesn’t look down and say, “Well, I know they can handle this trial.”  Why should He bother sending it?  Instead, the test comes and after we pass He looks down, as He did on Mt Moriah and says, “Now I know.”

            And it’s those tests that give us the experience to help others and the strength to endure more.  God never promised us perfect lives here on this sin-cursed world.  He did not promise you fame and fortune (no matter what Joel Osteen says).  He did not promise perfect health, perfect families, or even perfect brethren.  What He did promise is a perfect reward after we successfully navigate what amounts to, in the perspective of Eternity, a moment or two of imperfection.

            But only if you have the mettle.
 
When they had preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples, they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch, strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God, Acts 14:21-22.
 
Dene Ward

We were driving a hilly section of North Georgia on a winding backroad between small Southern towns, the kind with steepled churches, brick town halls on green grass-carpeted squares, and railroad tracks running right down the middle of Main Street between diagonal parking on either side of the road.  Away from the towns farmland tufted with white cotton bolls, metals barns housing lumberyards, and firewood stands with cords stacked for sale were nestled among single wide and double wide trailers, old frame farmhouses and the occasional red brick ranch style home of the younger generation.

            Then we passed a deserted house.  You can always tell.  The paint is peeling, the gutters are full of leaves, and the naked windows stare out at you, no light of life within them.  A house left to itself always deteriorates far more quickly than one that is lived in.

            And the yard?  Weedy, strewn with wind-blown trash, gardens filled with dried up flower heads or bolted vegetables, everything withered from lack of care.  A garden left to itself always goes to seed.

            So how did some primordial soup produce even one cell of life where there was none before, and how did that cell evolve into something more and more complex, and finally become an intelligent creature conscious of its own existence and that of others outside itself, able to reason, to create, and to appreciate art of all kinds, and strategize plots of great complexity? 

            Until someone can show me a vacant house that keeps itself clean and void of rot, and a garden that never needs weeding or watering, I just won’t believe it.  I may not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but God made me smart enough to see through that one.
 
For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, Rom 1:18-22.
 
Dene Ward

We were hiking a mountain trail, sometimes straight up, sometimes straight down.  A babbling brook ran to our left at the bottom of a fifty foot ravine, making miniature waterfalls over rocks and roots long before we reached the larger and taller falls, weeping into a pool and running on down the hill.  As we made our way over another rise and around a bend, the leaf-strewn trail suddenly dipped and we found ourselves in a cypress swamp.  What?
 
           Oh yes, I remembered, we were not in the mountains after all; we were in Florida.  Yet it would have been easy to have fooled a person who had slept through the trip over rivers with names like Suwannee and Ocklockonee, traveling deep into the piney woods of the Big Bend, down to the swamplands.  If they had wakened in the campground on the ridge overlooking the river valley below, and walked the first mile of the path, they would have thought they were on the Appalachian Trail somewhere.

            But the sight of those huge cypresses, the bottoms of their trunks billowing like the folds of a skirt in the water, their knees standing two and three feet high around them, would have given pause.  Suddenly they would realize the shrubbery beneath the trees in the woods wasn’t rhododendron and mountain aster, but palmetto and needle palms.  The ground wasn’t hardwood leaf mold over rock, but pine straw matting over red or yellow clay and sand.  This is Florida—perhaps different from most other places in the state, but Florida nevertheless. 

            Where are you spiritually?  Are you where you think you are?  Or did you sleep through the first half of your life, and when your spirituality awakened, look around and at first glance think, “Yes, this is the right place,” when it was only a close facsimile?  Did you find yourself among people who seemed to be doing the right thing and so fail to take a really close look at your surroundings? 

            Why are you where you are?  Is it just because this is where Mom and Dad put you, or because you checked the map and stayed awake for the trip, knowing why you made which turns, and not only how to tell others to get here, but why they should be here with you?

            If you are in the mountains of Appalachia, you will need to look out for a few rattlesnakes and copperheads, but those are shy reptiles that will usually run if given the opportunity.  In a Florida swamp you will also need to watch out for cottonmouths and alligators.  Cottonmouths are notoriously aggressive—they will charge from cover, and then chase you.  And alligators move faster than anything that ungainly has a right to.  If you are wary of the wrong dangers, you are much more likely to be taken unawares. 

            God expects you to know where you are spiritually and why you are there.  He doesn’t want people who are where they are simply out of convenience and family tradition.  Where is the service in that? 

            He expects you to look out for the dangers that might surround you.  How can you be alert if the dangers you expect are not the ones in that area?

            And how will you ever find God if you are not where you thought you were?
 
From there you will seek the Lord your God and you will find Him if you search after Him with all your heart and with all your soul, Deut 4:29.
 
Dene Ward

On our recent camping trip we had a lot of wildlife for company.  Yet it was neither frightening nor bothersome.  The only animal we saw besides the usual birds and squirrels that lived in the campground itself was a young raccoon who moseyed up to the woodpile, so interested in the spot where Keith had slung some cold coffee that he didn’t see us until about the same time we saw him.  All of us were startled and he fled for cover.  Yet I am positive we had much more company out in the woods.
 
           If I did not see them, how do I know?  Because as we hiked the park’s fifteen miles of trails over the next four days, we saw their tracks: the cloven hoof prints of many deer, the tiny handprints of other raccoons, the small padded paws of bobcats, and the deep, heavy prints of wild boars, along with places they had torn up the ground rooting and wallowing.  There were not just a few of these tracks either.  We saw far more animal tracks than people tracks on our daily hikes.

            I bet you believe me now, don’t you?  Yet God’s fingerprints are all over this world of ours and it seems that every year fewer people believe in Him.  They might as well believe that animals don’t exist in the forest; it would make about as much sense. 

            But people have been behaving this way for thousands of years. I am reminded of Moses performing his signs before Pharaoh.  The Egyptian ruler did not want to believe in Jehovah as the one true God.  He had his many magicians replicate Moses’ signs with their tricks.  Finally though, they reached a point where they could not do so. 

            “This,” they said to Pharaoh, “is the finger of God.”

            Would that men would be so honest today.
 
For the invisible things of Him since the creation of the world are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even His everlasting power and divinity; that they may without excuse, because that knowing God, they glorified Him not as God, neither gave thanks, but became vain in their reasonings and their senseless heart was darkened.  Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God for the likeness of an image of corruptible man, and of birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things.  Wherefore God gave them up…Rom 1:20-24.
 
Dene Ward

When we go on a one week camping vacation, we always stay Saturday night in a hotel in the closest town we can find with a church.  There are seldom any groups of God’s people within 50 miles of a mountain campground, and many of these are small groups.  A couple of times Keith has even preached for them.
 
           One time we were returning to the same area two years in a row and he was able to make those preaching arrangements ahead of time.  We wanted to be sure we were on time so those poor brethren would not be frantic, but we had accidentally left the directions at home.  So we asked the hotel desk clerk to Google the church website for the address and meeting times.  When he did, all three of us were in for a surprise.

            He gave us the address then said, “6429?  I grew up at 6425 on the same street.  I know where that church is.  It’s two doors down from my dad.”

            Yet he had not recognized the “name.”  He did not know the service times, which were posted on the sign when we got there.  He didn’t know they had a website, though a large banner hung outside the building.  So much for the importance of “signs.”  He was in his mid-20s, had grown up practically next door, and knew none of those things.  Do you know why?  Because he didn’t know the names of any who assembled in that building.

            The building does not draw people.

            The sign does not draw people.

            The website does not draw people.

            All those things are for people who are already looking, many of whom even know what they are looking for--like Christians traveling through on vacation.  Since when is the mission of the church to make sure that traveling brethren can find us? 

            The gospel is what draws people, but as Paul asks in Romans 10:14, how shall they hear without a preacher?  Since we no longer have miracles to “confirm the word,” the world has to know us and know our lives before they will listen.

            It took me years to learn to talk about my wonderful brothers and sisters instead of just spouting scriptures or waiting for someone to ask me a Bible question.  I have invited many to services and to Bible studies, but forgot to tell them that being with these people was half the reason for going and in the beginning, it might be their main reason for wanting to come back.  And I forgot to tell them how much better my life was simply for allowing the Lord to lead my way.  I was too busy making sure I had some scriptures memorized for appropriate occasions and waiting for those circumstances to somehow pop up on their own.

            What does your meetinghouse mean to the neighborhood it sits in?  Do they know anything about you?  Even if all they think is, “Those people believe you have to follow the Bible exactly,” that’s better than nothing.  It means they have had contact with a person, not just a sign or a building.

            Don’t let your meetinghouse be nothing more than a landmark.  The church is supposed to show people the way.  “Go past the church and we are the second house on the right,” is not what the Lord had in mind.
 
 From you has sounded forth the word of the Lord, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place your faith to God-ward is gone forth…1 Thes 1:8.   
The righteous is a guide to his neighbor…Prov 12:26.   Dene Ward

When we camp in the fall, we must make our reservations several weeks in advance.  With my precarious eye condition, we never know when we might need to cancel, but it’s our philosophy that you hope and pray for the best, then deal with life as it happens.
 
           Then there is the weather.  There are no 2-3 month forecasts, at least none you can count on.  Only once in 28 years have we hit a solid week of rain, but that was also the week we passed around a stomach virus—first Nathan, then Keith, then me, and finally Lucas—so the rain was the least of our problems.

            In the other years, though, we have noticed this:  it always rains on Tuesday.  No matter where we camp or what year, Tuesday is the day for rain.  Sometimes it’s one hour-long storm; sometimes it’s a day of passing showers; once in a while it happens at night while we sleep warm and dry in the tent.  Those are the best years.

            We have come to plan for it ahead of time.  Sometimes we go on a day of shopping in a nearby town, replenishing the ice supply and picking up anything circumstances create a need for, like duct tape, batteries, a new air mattress once when we woke up flat on the tent floor one morning.  Sometimes it’s browsing at a flea market, a used bookstore, or an antique shop.  Sometimes it’s a scenic drive through a national forest.  We know when we leave the house on Saturday that on Tuesday we will be doing one of these things.

            One year we really hit the jackpot.  Monday night at 11 pm, shortly after we were tucked into our sleeping bags for the night, the rain started and did not stop until 11 pm Tuesday night—24 hours straight of cold drizzle.  We were in an unfamiliar campground in an unfamiliar area.  The nearest town with decent shops was over 50 miles away.  There were no indoor tourist spots nearby either.  By breakfast Tuesday morning the “water resistant” screen-house over the table was saturated and had started dripping through.  We obviously couldn’t sit there all day.  So we gathered up books, Bibles, notebooks, a Boggle game with plenty of paper and pencils, a propane lamp and stove, and headed for the tent.  We spent the entire day in that 16 x 10 tent reading, studying, playing games, talking, drinking hot chocolate, napping, and then starting the list over again.  The day passed quickly for that kind of day, and the next we were back to sunny skies, hiking, and evening campfires.

            Wouldn’t it be foolish for us to expect to be able to choose one week three months in advance, and think we could live outdoors without a chance of rain?  Instead we go on, knowing it will happen, prepared for it, and determined to have a good time anyway.

            Peter told those first century Christians not to be so naïve as to expect to never suffer.  Paul told Timothy, Yea all that would live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution, 2 Tim 3:12.  We are promised all spiritual blessings, but health and wealth do not fall into that category.  We are promised “a hundredfold” brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and children, but often their greatest worth is in the encouragement they offer during the trials of life.  We are promised that God will never forsake us, but that matters far more in times of difficulty than in times of ease.  In fact, it is usually in those difficult times that we come to realize our greatest blessings.

            Only the shallowest of Christians expects God to make sure he leads a “charmed” life.  We are called to be disciples of a Lord who suffered.  A disciple follows in his Master’s footsteps.  Why would we ever think we should be immune to the same suffering?

            As long as you expect a week without rain, your life will be one of constant disappointment.  Hope and pray for the best, prepare for the trials and tribulations, then live a life of joy when it rains on Tuesday.
 
Beloved, think it not 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 Pet 4:12,13.
 
Dene Ward

We enjoy our camping vacations, which is good since it is the only kind we can afford.  Maybe we like to pretend we are rugged individualists, the kind this country was founded by, when we “rough it” in our tent and sleeping bags, cooking our food over an open fire, and sitting by a campfire to stay warm.  “Hah!” I think I heard our sons say.  We stay in the regular campground, not the primitive one, so we can run an outdoor extension cord to the electric blanket in our sleeping bag, which lies atop the queen size air mattress, and have access to the hot and cold running water in the bathhouses for a shower every night. 
           
It is a relaxing stay.  No televisions, no telephones, no radios, no news, most of which seems bad these days, no list of chores, no deadlines—no stress of any sort at all.  Even cooking and cleaning up, because it must be done in a different way and by necessity involves fewer dishes, does not seem like work.  We get up when we want to, usually not before there is enough light to see by, go to bed when we get tired of reading by dangling trouble light, hike when we want to, as far as we want to, play games, do crossword puzzles, talk, plan, look at birds and flowers, and then look them up in our wildlife book. It is peaceful, calming, and relaxing.

            But getting there?  Now that’s another story.  It takes two full days to pack, using a three page list.  There are arrangements to be made for the animals, the mail, bills that are due, and any duties for the church that need to be covered.  We have to plan the route, which always goes through Atlanta, and after Atlanta, the hilly, winding roads that often leave me carsick. 
We must find a church in some of the most “churchless” areas of the south, a task we usually take care of before we leave home.  Once we arrive we must find a hotel that isn’t exorbitant so we can worship with our newfound brothers and sisters before heading up the mountain afterward.  We have to plan what we need to take into the hotel room with us without having to unpack the whole pickup bed, and then what we will need for clothes changing afterward, and have them all easily accessible.

We must reach the park not long after checkout time so we can find a good spot—one with a level spot big enough to accommodate a 16 x 10 tent, with a fire ring placed not too close to the tent site, a good place for the firewood, which provides not only our heat but also the fuel for cooking all week, and more privacy than an RV needs due to the paper-thin tent walls.  It must have shade, especially in the afternoon, and the table must be wooden if at all possible.  Some of my equipment racks will not fasten to the extra thick cement picnic tables, and you cannot move cement tables if needed to fit everything into the site.

Then we have to set up, a process which takes two and a half to three hours.  It has to be done before dark, and once it is done, we have to reload the back of the pickup with the items we will constantly need—the food boxes, the suitcases, the linen box, and the “book” box, which contains not only the books we will be reading that week, but the notebooks and Bibles we use for writing and studying, the crossword puzzles, the journal, the camera, the binoculars, and the Boggle game.

Finally, we get to sit down and start relaxing.  Is it worth it?  You bet it is.  For nine days we experience the peace and beauty of God’s creation, and let it soothe our aching spirits.

All of that is somewhat like the life of a Christian.  Some days are difficult.  Some days are full of stress.  Some days have lists of things that need to be done and not enough hours to do them.  Some days are not bad—time spent with brethren and family, time preparing for things we know we will enjoy, but we are all looking forward to something better, no matter how good the days here sometimes are.  We all want to reach the vacation spot, where the stress evaporates and eternal peace soothes our souls.  But just as that camping trip would not be restful if we didn’t prepare for it properly, waiting till the last minute and tossing things willy-nilly into the pickup, hoping we got it all, neither will eternity. 

Start preparing yourself today, remembering that this life is the journey, not the goal, and begin to look forward to the bliss that awaits a faithful child of God.
 
For if Joshua had given them rest, he would not have spoken afterward of another day. There remains therefore a sabbath rest for the people of God. For he that is entered into his rest has himself also rested from his works, as God did from his. Let us therefore give diligence to enter into that rest, that no man fall after the same example of disobedience. Heb 4:8-11.
 
Dene Ward