I opened the cooler and looked down into the plastic bin inside and saw a bloody mess.  Immediately my mind went into salvage mode.  We were camping, living out of a cooler for nine days, and couldn’t take any chances, even if it did cost us a week’s worth of meals.  As it turns out, the problem was easily solved.

Whenever we camp, because space is short for that much food and eating out is not an option, I take all the meat for our evening meals frozen.  The meat itself acts as ice in the cooler, keeping the temperature well down in the safe zone, and we use it as it thaws, replacing it with real ice.  I learned early on to re-package each item in a zipper freezer bag so that as it thaws the juices don’t drip out and contaminate the other food and the ice we use in our drinks.  We also put the meat in plastic tubs, away from things like butter, eggs, and condiments—just in case.  That’s what saved us this time.

Somehow the plastic bag in which I had placed the steaks had developed a leak, but all those bloody red juices were safely contained in the white tub, and the other meats were still sealed.  I removed the bin from the cooler, put the steaks in a new bag, dumped the mess and cleaned the bin and the outside of the other meat bags, then returned the whole thing to the cooler, everything once again tidy and above all, safe.

We all do the same things in our kitchens.  After handling raw meat, we wash our hands.  We use separate cutting boards for meat and vegetables meant to be eaten fresh.  And lately, they are even telling us not to wash poultry at all because it splashes bacteria all over the kitchen.

We follow all these safety rules, then think nothing of cross-contaminating our souls.  What do you watch on TV?  What do you look at on the internet?  Where do you go for recreation?  No, we cannot get out of the world, but we can certainly keep it from dumping its garbage on the same countertops we use to prepare our families’ spiritual meals.  There is an “off” button.

Maybe the problem is that these things are not as repulsive to us as they should be.  The Psalmist said, I have not sat with men of falsehood; Neither will I go in with dissemblers. I hate the assembly of evil-doers, And will not sit with the wicked. I will wash my hands in innocency: So will I compass your altar, O Jehovah; Psalms 26:4-6.  Can we say our hands are clean when we assemble to worship God after spending a week being titillated by the sins of others?

If we followed some basic spiritual safety rules as carefully as we do those for our physical health, maybe we would lose fewer to cross-contamination of the soul.

And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather even reprove them; for the things which are done by them in secret it is a shame even to speak of. Ephesians 5:11-12

Dene Ward

A few weeks ago I told you the story of a camping trip when I forgot our Sunday clothes, and the chilly reception we received in that church on Sunday morning.  Occasionally I receive a little feedback, and I was happy that no one sent the question, “What church was that?”  In fact, in all these years, whenever I have told the story no one has asked.  Good for you.

First, that church probably no longer exists.  Oh, I happen to know that a church still meets in that building.  But it is not the same group of people.  Some have died and gone on.  Some have moved out; some have moved in.  But I imagine that all the ones who are still there have grown into better people.  Twenty years can make a difference in anyone’s life.

And the problem of the group that did exist then was not that they made a mistake in their judgment about why we were there.  It did not matter why we were there.  Someone should have greeted us warmly and welcomed us into the building whether we were poor people down on our luck, so to speak, or Christians who accidentally left their Sunday clothes hanging in the garment bag on a doorknob somewhere in the house.  If someone had greeted us, but only because they recognized us from a meeting sometime in the past, that would have been wrong too. 

But as to asking, “Where was that?” the right question is the one the apostles asked when Jesus told them one of them would betray him.  As much as they failed to comprehend the kingdom, despite his teaching and their knowledge of Old Testament prophecy, as much as they still fought among themselves about who would be the greatest even that very night, they did not start glancing around the table and whispering among themselves things like, “I bet it’s Levi.  I told Jesus you could never trust a tax collector.”

No.  Matthew tells us, And they were exceeding sorrowful and began to say to him every one, Is it I, Lord? 26:22. Mark tells us they asked him one by one, 14:19. 

So when I hear a particularly pointed sermon, I shouldn’t look around to make sure brother Whozit is there to hear it because he really needs it.  I shouldn’t look across the aisle at sister What’s-her-name with a “So there!” expression on my face. 

What is it we say about approved apostolic example?  We use it to nail all sorts of false doctrines, but how about nailing ourselves? 

“Is it I, Lord?”

Judge not that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge you shall be judged, and with what measured you mete, it shall be measured unto you.  And why do you behold the mote that is in your brother’s eye, but consider not the beam that is in your own eye?  Or how will you say to your brother, “Let me cast the mote out of your eye,” while the beam is in your own eye?  You hypocrite!  First cast the beam out of your own eye and then you may see clearly to cast the mote our of your brother’s eye, Matthew 7:1-5.  

Dene Ward

About 20 years ago, we spent a long weekend camping in one of our north Florida parks.  It was cold that November, the coldest weather we had ever camped in, and I was busily trying to remember to pack enough cold weather clothes to keep us warm, especially for a night outdoors. Unfortunately, I forgot the garment bag that held our Sunday clothes. 
            
Not attending services that Sunday morning in the nearby town was not an
option for us.  We raised our boys the way I was raised—on Sundays we went to the assembly of the saints, period.  No one ever even thought to say, “Will we attend today?”

So we walked into the services that morning in jeans and flannel shirts.  We did not even have on our “best” jeans, because we learned early that camping could be a dirty, staining experience.  It was not quite so bad for the guys—one or two other men did not have on ties--but there I was, the only woman in the place without a dress and heels. And without exception, the women looked at me, turned their heads, and walked away.  None of them ever did speak to me, even after Keith spoke knowledgeably in Bible class, and we obviously knew the hymns.  I tried not to be judgmental, but I kept wondering if they thought we were some poor, down and out family, who had stopped, “just to try to get some money.”  You know why? Because I had thought the same thing in the past about others who looked like us.  
 
I wanted to stand up and say, “My husband preached full time for ten years.  I teach Bible classes and have some Bible class literature in the bookstores. 
My children can probably answer more Bible questions than you can!”  I wanted to rub their noses in the fact of their discrimination.  But I didn’t.  Instead, I pondered my own guilt, and wondered if I would have done any
better.
            
So take a minute and think about your own behavior on Sunday mornings.  Whom do you rush to greet?  Whom do you leave standing, feeling awkward and unwelcome?  Which ones may need the Lord the most?  In fact, which ones might the Lord himself have welcomed the most fervently?  Would we have stood with the Pharisees, rebuking him for eating with sinners? And weren’t we, in our suits and ties, dresses and heels, once in the same condition?  And couldn’t we find ourselves there again, if we do not follow his
example?
 
My brethren, hold not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect of persons.  For if there comes into your assembly a man with a gold ring, in fine clothing, and there comes in also a poor man in vile clothing, and you have regard to him who wears the fine clothing, and say, “Sit here in a good place,” and you say to the poor man, “Stand there,” or “Sit under my footstool,” do you not make distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?  Listen, my beloved brethren, did not God choose those who are poor as to the world to be rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he promised to them who loved him?  Howbeit, if you fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,” you do well, but if you have respect of persons, you commit sin, being convicted by the law as transgressors.  For judgment is without mercy to him who shows no mercy, James 2:1-5,8-9,13.

Dene Ward

It takes us three days to pack for a camping trip.  I have a list saved on the computer that I print out every time—three pages.  Yes, I said three pages.

Just for meals, for instance, I pack cups, mugs, plates, soup bowls, a measuring cup, grill tools, saucepans, skillets, the coffee pot, propane stoves, matches, gas canisters, coffee filters, a griddle, a folding grill, a mixing bowl, silverware, mixing spoons and spatulas, foil, Ziplocs for leftovers, a bacon drippings can, paper towels, dish soap, a dish pan, dish towels, hot pads, and trash bags, and that doesn’t count the food!  Now imagine things you need for every part of your day, from brushing your teeth, to hiking, to showering, to sitting around after dark reading, to going to bed, and you begin to see why the list is three pages long.

We use this list because I have found that if I don’t have it to cross off, I will invariably forget something.  From time to time we delete something on the list or add something as our situation changes.  When we were young we didn’t need to take two boxes of medications. 

We keep a backup disk of items saved on the computer.  That list is on it.  Should we ever lose it, I might even be tempted to never go camping again.  I cannot imagine having to remake the list from memory.  More likely, we would remake it around the fire the first night after discovering all the things we forgot.

When we had boys with us, I had other things on the list that were equally important.  In fact, I was probably more careful about their things than mine.  I wanted them to have enough clothes, especially enough warm clothes.  I learned that lesson the hard way when we woke up by a mountain stream one June morning to fifty degree temperatures and they had nothing but shorts and tee shirts to wear.  Fifty degrees in June?  As a Florida native I didn’t even know that was possible, and I felt horrible, quickly mixing up some warm oatmeal and hot chocolate while Keith built a campfire for them to huddle around as they ate.

We are all on a trip every day of our lives.  What have you packed for your children?  Too many parents just let life happen without a plan.  Do you teach them?  Do you talk with them every chance you get about a God who loves them, who made them, and who expects things of them?  Do you discuss the things that happen in their lives and the decisions they made, or perhaps should have made?  Do they know that those decisions will affect their eternal destiny?  Do you allow them to pay the consequences for their mistakes, or do you shelter them?  Do you tell them what the world is really like out there, how to recognize the traps, the enemies in disguise and the true values of life?  Are you sure you have everything they could possibly need to assure their eternal destiny?

Maybe you need to make a list.

We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might, and the wonders that he has done. He established a testimony in Jacob and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments; Psalms 78:4-7.

Dene Ward

I hate packing for a trip.  I hate unpacking when I get home worse.  That is one thing so exciting about the trip to Heaven.  I won’t have to do either one!

And you know what?  When we decide to make that move into the kingdom, we don’t have to pack for that either.  In fact, Jesus wants us to leave all our baggage behind.  Not just our lives of sin, but all those biases that keep us from seeing clearly. 

Sometimes I let the difficult times I have been through color my view of everything else.  It can affect how I view my brethren, always expecting the worst and even looking for it.  It can affect my faith so that I cannot totally surrender my life to God; I feel a need to “help Him out” just a little.  It can affect my view of the kingdom itself, so that I want to protect it by building walls closer inside to help keep it pure, and even make me less than welcoming to others who need a haven.  It can make me too sober, too serious, too unwilling to crack a smile and rejoice! 

I may have fought some serious battles for the Lord, but that does not make me the only good judge of what is and is not good for the health of the kingdom.

I may have come from a religious group that does many things contrary to the law of Christ, but that does not mean that “what those people did” is the authority for deciding what God’s people cannot do.  95% of rat poison is good rat food; otherwise the rats would never eat it!  So what we do may in some cases match what they do—the scriptural parts anyway. 

I may have learned that a doctrine is unscriptural but that does not mean that a full 180 degree turn in the other direction is necessary.  We often overreact just to make sure we do not do something wrong, and wind up being wrong in the opposite direction.  The Pharisees were good at that.

I need to remember that I should come to Christ with empty hands, bringing nothing from the old life.  Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things have passed away; behold they have become new.  All the old things have changed to new things.  No old baggage to deal with any longer.

If I truly have faith in my Lord, I don’t need anything from that old life.  It’s a little scary, but that is the nature of trust, isn’t it?

Peter began to say to him, Lo we have left all and have followed thee.  Jesus said, Truly I say to you, there is no man who has left house or brothers or sisters, or mother, or father, or children, or lands, for my sake, and for the gospel’s sake, but he shall receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brothers, and sisters, and mothers, and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the world to come eternal life.  Mark 10:28-30

Dene Ward

New Mexico State University had scheduled its first graduation ceremony ever for March 10, 1893.  That morning the ceremony was canceled.  The university’s first graduate, the only one scheduled to graduate that year, Sam Steele, was robbed and killed the night before.  No one graduated, so no one came.  Reading that brought back a flood of memories.           
Many years ago we were on vacation and had carefully looked up a local congregation so we could attend a mid-week Bible study with our brothers and sisters in that town.  We left our camp site in plenty of time.  We arrived to an empty parking lot at 7:15 pm on a Wednesday evening.  The sign in the yard said, “Wednesday Bible Study, 7:30 PM.”  We waited until 8:00, then finally gave up and went back to the campground—no one ever came.

Another time, another place, we walked into the building at 6:45.  We knew someone would be there this time—there were cars in the lot already.  Yes, they were there, and the Bible class was winding down, even though the sign outside said, “Tuesday evening Bible study, 7:00 PM.”  At 7 on the dot the final amen was said.  “We meet at 6 in the summer,” we were told.  We sure wish the sign had said so.

Yet another time, and another place, we arrived on Sunday morning at 9:15 AM.  The sign outside said, “Bible classes, 9:30 AM,” but there wasn’t another car in sight.  Finally about 9:28 one car drove up and parked.  The family took their time getting out and walking inside.  We followed, and watched as the man, who was the teacher that morning, began setting up.  At 9:35 another family arrived and sat with us.  At 9:40 two more walked in.  At 9:45 another man walked through the auditorium, waving and calling out to the teacher in front of us, who had not yet started his class.  A couple of minutes later we started, and what was billed as a 45 minute study became 25 minutes, less another five or so for opening remarks and prayer.  A twenty minute Bible study.  Obviously, they didn’t get too far in their Bibles, and we wondered why we had gone to so much trouble to be there on time.

I cannot help but wonder how many other visitors give up and leave places like this.  Do we think we have no obligation at all to them?  Paul talks about the effect our assemblies have on the unbelievers who have come in 1 Cor 14:23-25.  He obviously expected visitors.  It isn’t some sort of OCD to want things done “decently and in order.”  When I invite someone, I expect there to be someone besides me to greet them and interact with them.  So does God.

We can piously, and a little self-righteously, tsk-tsk the ones who want things to end on time.  Don’t be so quick to judge bad motives for that.  Do you know the first question anyone I have ever invited asks?  “What time will it be over?”  They aren’t Christians yet.  They have a life to live, and probably other commitments that day.  If I can’t tell them they will be out of there by a certain time, they might not come at all.  Especially in our culture, time and schedule are normal considerations if you want to make your services visitor-friendly.  Eventually they will reach the point that time doesn’t matter to them—but not if we never make it possible for them to attend in the first place with inconsistent scheduling and a supercilious refusal to consider their needs.

I could go on.  What about leaving them easy, un-embarrassing places to sit, especially if they arrive a little late?  What about parking places?

Paul says that our consideration for outsiders will convict their hearts and prove that God is really among us.  What do we prove when our selfish or lackadaisical attitudes keeps anyone from even coming in the first place?

If an unbeliever enters, he is convicted by all, he is called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed and so, falling on his face, he will glorify God and declare that God is really among you, 1 Cor 14:24,25.

Dene Ward

The day after a camping trip is my least favorite.  It isn’t just that the fun is over.  It isn’t just the unpacking and the piles of extra-dirty laundry.  It’s the complete lack of order in the house.

The linens box, the pots and dishes box, the two food boxes, the tent and sleeping bag box, the boxes of gas canisters, batteries, light bulbs, extension cords, insect repellent, clothesline and clothespins, books and Bibles, along with the tool box, first aid kit, two suitcases and two coolers lie stacked or scattered on the carport and porch, in the kitchen and living room.  Although the linens are all camp linens, no longer used on an everyday basis, they must all be washed—and bleached—before I can put them away.  Everything else must be sorted through.  Some stay packed with the camping gear and others are returned to their regular homes in the pantry, on a shelf, in a cabinet, or in the shed.  The tent must be set up in the field to finish drying and sleeping bags hung to air out.  It is often two or three days before my home is back in order.

Over the past few years, I have learned to accept a little less order.  Keith’s idea of order does not match mine, but he has had to take over the housekeeping several times so guess whose sense of order reigns then?  But when I go into the shed looking for the garden trowel, I can never find it while he knows exactly where it is.  In fact, he wants the item put right back where I got it, even if it doesn’t make sense to me because of his sense of order.  I learned a long time ago not to touch the top of his dresser, no matter how much it aggravates me.

We each have a sense of order—no matter how messy others might think it—and we don’t want people rearranging things.  Why do we think God wants us messing with His sense of order?

God’s sense of order has always had a reason, and while my sense of order is nothing but a selfish desire to keep things the way I want them, God’s sense of order is always for our good.

The order he imposes upon our assemblies is for the ease of edification.  Camp awhile in 1 Corinthians 14.  If there is no interpreter, don’t speak in tongues because no one will be edified (vv 15-19), and visitors will simply be confused (v 23).  If more than one of you has a revelation, take turns so people can be edified rather than confused by the chaos of more than one speaking at a time (vv 27-28).  Women should not be asking questions to put their husbands forward, when some other topic might be more important to the group at that time (vv 34-35).  Surely we can see applications to today’s assemblies in all of that.  God’s sense of order isn’t about who gets the most floor time, or how much we are entertained—it’s about how much edification occurs.

God’s sense of order for our lives helps us live happier, safer, and healthier.  We take better care of our bodies, our relationships, and our minds when we follow His order.  Even the ordinances that seemed to have nothing to do with us reinforce the goodness, the righteousness, and the holiness of God—things that are important to making us fit for an eternal life with a spiritual and holy Deity.

“Surely God wouldn’t mind” presumptuously ignores the fact that the Creator is the only one with the right to impose order in our worship of Him and in our lives of service to Him.  “But I like it this way,” is simply selfishness and a slap in the face to God who has given everything to make it possible to be with Him forever.

God doesn’t really care if I keep my spare items on the bottom shelf of the pantry and the things actively in use at eye level.  It doesn’t matter to Him that Keith keeps all the garden sprays and powders to the left of the middle pillar on the third shelf.  But the order He does care about, should be my first concern too.  In those things, God’s sense of order is the only one that matters.

And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says "I know him" but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, 1 John 2:3-4.

Dene Ward

After camping for many years in both Florida and Georgia state parks, I can give you a list of advantages and disadvantages in each.  In Florida parks you can actually reserve a specific campsite that meets your own needs and preferences.  In Georgia parks you can only reserve “a site;” you learn to arrive right at check-out time so you have more choices.  Otherwise you may wind up without enough level ground for your 16 x 10 tent, and an up close and personal view of your neighbors.

But Georgia parks do have this advantage—all of their bathhouses are heated in the cool season.  That is not so in all the Florida parks, not even in North Florida.  I suppose they must live up to the State’s image as “warm.”  The ceilings in the bathhouses are about twelve feet high and the top four feet of wall is screen—whatever the temperature is outside, it is inside too, sometimes cooler since the concrete walls tend to hold in the cold.  In summer that may be nice, but in winter it’s for the birds—penguins, in this case. 

Yet in Florida we do have some chilly days, and in North Florida we have several downright cold days.  On our last January camping trip to Anastasia State Park on the northeast coast, highs were in the 50s and lows in the 30s, and taking a shower was literally a bone-chilling experience.  To make matters worse, every time I arrived at the bathhouse, the door was propped open and the ceiling fan spinning, its chain way out of my reach.  If grandma had been right about the cold and wet making you sick, we would have been terminal by the end of our stay.  No amount of pretending could make those temperatures any warmer.  All the ceiling fans, screens and other accoutrements of tropical warmth could not make the goosebumps and shivers disappear.  It was cold.  And our Canadian campsite neighbors agreed. 

Don’t we sometimes do the same in our spiritual lives?  I once saw a man open his closed fist over the collection plate, and nothing came out.  We may think our pretending is not quite as obvious as that, but God sees our hearts better than my eyes saw that man’s empty hand.  We sit on a pew on Sunday morning, but what are we doing on Monday morning?  We follow along as the preacher cites passages, but do we open our Bibles at home?  We bow our heads during prayer, but does God hear from us the rest of the week?  Our hands are not empty when we open them over the basket, but are our arms open to the needy, the discouraged, the hurting every other day?

God will not be fooled by the accoutrements of modern Christian living any more than my goosebumps were fooled by screens, a whirling ceiling fan and a big sign that said “FLORIDA.”  Let us turn on the heat in our lives—the heat of passion in our worship, and the warmth of heartfelt compassion toward others.

Take heed that you do not your righteousness before men, to be seen of men, else you will have no reward with your Father who is in heaven.  When you do your alms, sound not a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do…that they may have glory of men…When you pray, you shall not be as the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on the corners of streets that they may be seen of men. Moreover when you fast, be not as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance, for they disfigure their faces that they may be seen of men to fast.  But you, when you fast, anoint your head, and wash your face, that you be not seen of men to fast, but of your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret, shall reward you. Matt 6:1-6, 16-18

Dene Ward

It’s happened twice now.  I leave my campsite loaded down with shower gear and clean clothes, only to walk into what should be a sanctuary for women only and find a couple of little boys running around—not three year olds, mind you, but boys who are well into grade school, probably 8 or 9.

A campground bathhouse is a bit like a locker room.  Yes, there are shower stalls with curtains, but often the dressing area in those stalls becomes nearly as wet as the tiles behind the shower itself.  Sometimes you have to open the curtain so you can step out and put on your jeans without dragging them through a puddle.  On our last trip a woman came marching out of the stall in her jeans and bra, flapping her arms and exclaiming how hot it was.  What would have happened if those two little boys had been in there then?

Even the little boys cared.  They were showering when I came in to brush my teeth late one night.  Their mother had all their clothes piled in a far corner of the room. 

“Come on out,” she called through the shower curtain.

“But there’s a woman out there,” the older boy said.

“I’m sure she’s seen it before,” she hollered back, and suddenly in the mirror I saw a naked child streaking behind me.  For his sake I kept my eyes averted from the embarrassed little boy crouching behind the sinks.  If it bothers the boys, surely that’s the time to put them in the men’s bathhouse, isn’t it?

Then I got an even bigger shock.  “I’ll be right back,” the mom told the boys.  “I have to take this to your dad.”

Dad?  Why didn’t Dad have them in the men’s bathhouse to begin with?  No, dad was absent, as so many are these days, watching TV in the trailer by the satellite dish he had hauled along on a two night camping trip on top of a beautiful mountain.  I wonder if he ever noticed the scenery, much less his sons. 

My boys were blessed to have a father who took his role seriously.  He didn’t leave everything to me until they got “bigger.”  He changed diapers.  He rolled around on the floor with them.  He played every ball game in season, even when they weren’t very good at it yet.  He read the Bible to them every morning while they ate breakfast, and a Bible story every night before bed, even before they were able to understand what he was reading.  Nearly every night he was the one who gave them their baths so I had time to clean up the supper dishes.  And yes, he took them into the men’s bathhouse whenever we camped, which began when Nathan was only three.

For awhile Keith worked nights.  He would not have seen the boys except right before school and on weekends, but he got up early every morning, despite his late hours, to walk them to the bus stop.  He left them notes in the middle of table every day, pieces of advice, Bible verses to memorize before the weekend, and always an “I love you.”  They usually ran straight for the table when the bus dropped them off, and I still have a notebook with those little yellow notes taped to the pages.  It wasn’t long before he changed jobs, taking one at far less salary because being with his boys was more important than money.

Fathers, you have a more important calling than the one that pays your bills.  Boys need to know what it takes to be a man of God.  Girls need to see the kind of man they should look for one day.  If all you do is let mama handle things till they get a little bigger, you are missing the most precious years of their lives.  You still won’t have a relationship with your child, because you didn’t build one when the building came naturally.  They won’t trust you to really care, and no one will much blame them.

And you fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord, Ephesians 6:4.

Dene Ward

by guest writer, Keith Ward

I was born on the side of a mountain. We only had one car which Dad took to work, so we walked everywhere and climbing on the bluffs was a form of recreation. Walking on a trail comes naturally to me and I rarely watch my feet. My feet automatically find the easiest path and long ago I had to learn to be consciously careful about this or I would push Dene off into the rough when we were strolling about our property. 

Not only is Dene a city girl who never stepped off a sidewalk in her life prior to our marriage, she had serious vision problems even before the surgeries began in 2005.  She has no natural ability to walk a path.  Always on our hikes, I get ahead and then wait for her, especially at a rough spot, to help her through.  Since 2005, the problem has grown so that a 4 hour hike for me is 3 hours hiking and 1 hour waiting (at best). But, we still have fun and enjoy all the same things others do on a hike.

I suppose I could search a concordance and count all the times the Christian life is called a walk and add in all the references to a path or a way or some synonym, but you already know there are a lot.  Some find the path fairly easy while others view the same part of the trail with trepidation and slowly and fearfully take each step.  Shall the stronger just rush on ahead and leave the weaker ones behind?  Or should their love overcome their desire to push onward and cause them to wait for and help the weak?  Can the “natural” point out a view or a wonder while the handicapped leans on his shoulder for a moment’s respite?  Can he not see that the trail he thinks is so easy now may up ahead become much harder for him in some way that the one who now struggles will find to be a highway? Their roles will be reversed.

Some hikers quit.  It is too hot, too far, there are too many bugs, the trail is too difficult for my skill level, etc.  In some cases, we simply must leave them and go on ahead.  However, I suspect we take this option much sooner than we would in “real life.”  Should I turn and Dene was not back there at all, how far would I search?  Or would I shrug my shoulders and return to the campsite and fix supper for one?  Should she become discouraged and sit down on a boulder, saying, “I quit!” how long would I linger and encourage and persuade?  I once became a long term crutch when she twisted her ankle, and found an unmapped short-cut to a nearby road. Do we call out search and rescue or do we have difficulty remembering the names of all the people littering the trail behind us?

Love came to seek and save that which was lost. Love built a highway.  Can we be pilgrims on His road and not love and reach out to fellow travelers? Let us determine to make their path smooth and to wait for them to set them forward on their journey.

Wherefore lift up the hands that hang down, and the palsied knees; and make straight paths for your feet, that that which is lame be not turned out of the way, but rather be healed. Hebrews 12:12-13