I just made a chocolate mousse cake.  This is one of THOSE recipes—you know, one of those trendy kinds you find in upscale restaurants, the kind that come with a chocolate or raspberry swirl on the white china plate, a piped dollop of whipped cream on the side and maybe even a shard of caramel “glass” sticking up out of it.  This recipe is bound to get me oohs and aahs at the table from excited guests who suddenly think I must be a gourmet cook.  And that’s when I start feeling guilty.  Why?  Because this conglomeration of bittersweet chocolate, butter, eggs, brown sugar, and vanilla took me exactly 15 minutes to put together and throw in the oven.  The only thing hard about it is waiting 8 hours for it to chill so it won’t fall completely apart when you try to cut it.
              I don’t deserve any oohs and aahs and it certainly wasn’t hard to do.  I will grant you that it tastes amazing—but look at that ingredient list above and tell me how it could not.  I have absolutely nothing to do with how it tastes unless I buy cheap ingredients—like Hershey bars and margarine.  Taking a bow for producing this cake is like claiming a cordon bleu culinary education when all you’ve had is watching your mother and grandmother and reading a few cookbooks.
              Have you ever had a friend ask you how you do it?  How you go through some of the trials you have been through, yet live a happy and contented life, in fact, a life of joy and faith?    What do you instantly say?  Do you claim huge inner strength and unimpeachable character?  Do you talk about your spiritual integrity?  Of course not.  You tell them that you had nothing to do with it except having the sense, or maybe the desperation, to take your Heavenly Father’s offer and let Him handle things.
              And it was just that simple, wasn’t it?  No, not really.  A lot of time passed before it really “took,” before you really could face your demons with assurance instead of doubt, before you could race toward that “way of escape” instead of stumbling through it, before you could sit back and let God be in control and accept His will instead of trying to figure things out so you could understand them.  And sometimes you still don't quite manage.
              It takes a long time to say those words Abraham said on that mountaintop 4000 years ago--God is able; God will provide.  But once you have reached that point, it’s just that simple.  Every time life hands you the inexplicable, you don’t try to understand, you just count on God to handle it.  How can anyone take the credit for that?
 
Both riches and honor come from you, and you rule over all. In your hand are power and might, and in your hand it is to make great and to give strength to all. And now we thank you, our God, and praise your glorious name, 1Chr 29:12-13

Dene Ward

Have you finished the leftover turkey marathon yet?  Turkey pot pie, turkey divan, turkey enchiladas, turkey soup, turkey salad, and anything else that will use up a good-sized portion of that leftover bird.  It seems they all have something in common—some sort of sauce, gravy, or broth to make the endlessly heated up, dried out meat palatable.  If you like turkey leftovers, it is not the turkey you like—it is what the turkey becomes, a new dish with flavorful moist ingredients that fill you up and satisfy your hunger.  You can only reheat unadorned meat so many times before it turns into sawdust.
            While my family enjoys leftover turkey dishes, God most emphatically does not like leftovers. 
            If you are a gardener, you understand the concept of first-fruits.  The first pickings, like the first serving of turkey, are always the best.  By the end of the summer the beans are tough, the corn is starchy, the squash is wormy, and the tomatoes are small and hard or half-rotten.  That is why you doll them up in casseroles and sauces.  I always make the tomato sauce in July.  The June tomatoes are ripe, sweet and juicy, far too good to turn into sauce.
            God has always expected the first-fruits from His people. The first of the first-fruits of your ground you shall bring into the house of Jehovah your God, Ex 23:19.  He expected the first-fruits of everything to be given to His servants, the priests, who waited on Him night and day, And this shall be the priests' due from the people, from them that offer a sacrifice, whether it be ox or sheep, that they shall give unto the priest the shoulder, and the two cheeks, and the maw. The first-fruits of your grain, of your new wine, and of your oil, and the first of the fleece of your sheep, shall you give him, Deut 18:3,4.
            The Israelites in Malachi’s day discovered exactly how God felt about offerings that were less than the best.  You offer polluted bread upon my altar. And you say, Wherein have we polluted you? In that you say, The table of Jehovah is contemptible. And when you offer the blind for sacrifice, it is no evil! And when you offer the lame and sick, it is no evil! Present it now to your governor; will he be pleased with you? Or will he accept you? says Jehovah of hosts, Mal 1:7,8..
            We usually cite these verses when it comes time to put money in the plate.  Certainly we should be planning ahead, “purposing in our hearts” what we will give to God, rather than reaching for the leftover change in our pockets.  But what about the rest of our “offerings?”
            Too many of us give God our leftover time.  Rather than planning to pray and study, scheduling time in the week to care for our brothers and sisters in need, and putting our assemblies at the top of our agendas, we wait till we have finished what we consider necessary, then look to see if we can give any time and energy to God.  Usually it is too late, or we are too tired, or something else that really cannot be rescheduled takes the last few minutes of our day.  If there is time, we are tired, our energy flagging and our concentration poor.  No wonder some of the children I have taught in Bible classes treat the concept of a family Bible study as something unheard of.  No wonder the adults in Bible classes sit close-mouthed with little to offer to edify their brothers and sisters, or spout out something that even a quick study of scripture would prove to be wrong.
            It only makes sense for us to give God our best.  God has given us His best too, an only begotten Son, the firstfruits of them that are asleep, 1 Cor 15:20, as a hope of the resurrection.
            God not only expects us to give our first-fruits, he expects us to be one. Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures, James 1:18.  Maybe that is the problem—our lives do not match the concept.  Instead, we are the blemished fruit, the tough, small, wormy, and half-rotten.  How can we give God anything else when that is all we have to offer?  This business of leftover offerings covers far more than the collection plate, far more than we would like to believe.
            Turkey leftovers are one thing.  They have a place, especially in the lives of those trying to be good stewards of their blessings.  But leftovers in my service to God might as well be fed to the dog.
 
Honor Jehovah with your substance, and with the first-fruits of all your increase: So shall your barns be filled with plenty, and your vats shall overflow with new wine, Prov 3:8,9.
 
Dene Ward

I was utterly confused when the older lady asked me about the bread recipe I had mentioned.
 
             “Is it short?” she wanted to know.

              The reply on the tip of my tongue was that it was about an inch high, but intuition told me that was not what she meant.  Someone else came to my rescue then and I gradually realized over the first few years of married life that “short” in cooking had nothing to do with height. 

              Shortening does exactly what its name implies.  It shortens the strands of gluten in a bread dough.  In a quick bread, which doesn’t take hours to rest and rise, that is important.  If it were not “shortened” it would be too tough to chew.  So biscuits, cornbread and other un-yeasted breads are far shorter than yeasted ones.

              Which shortening you choose makes a world of difference too.  Butter, oils, meat fats, and plain old shortening are the most commonly used, and the texture and flavor you want determines which one.  If you want a sandier texture, use oil; if you want a flakier texture, use shortening.  If the flavor makes a difference, choose olive oil for Mediterranean breads and bacon fat for cornbread—if you are from the south, that is. 

              Some recipes call for a mix of two or more shortenings to produce the best of each.  You want a great cookie?  Click on my recipes on the left sidebar and then click on Almond Crunch Cookies, which use both oil and butter—great flavor plus sandy texture. 

             I prefer to keep my pie crusts plain so they won’t detract from the filling.  To that end I use shortening only.  It also makes a flakier crust.  Others mix butter and shortening, but I can tell you from experience that an all butter pie crust is difficult to work with and tends to be heavy.
 
             Then there is cornbread.  I can tell from a recipe whether the cook is from up north or down south.  Northerners use less cornmeal, a good bit of sugar, and either oil or melted butter as their shortening—except maybe some Midwesterners who live where pork is king.  I nearly flipped when a television chef based in New York used 1 cup of cornmeal to three cups of flour.  To a southerner, it’s called cornbread because it has both the taste and texture of dried corn, plus that wonderful yumminess of bacon in the background.

              I have been trying to figure out what we Christians use as our shortening, and I think it has to be love.  Love can change both the texture and flavor of what you do.  Notice Mark 10:21:  And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said unto him, One thing you lack…  Love made Jesus tell this young man, the one who had done well at keeping the law all his life, exactly what he lacked.  Try doing that without love and see how far it gets you.

              Sometimes love is tasty and easy to get down.  Sticking your finger in cake batter is a whole lot nicer than doing the same with pie crust.  One is far sweeter and has much more flavor than the other.  So pats on the back, compliments and pep rally encouragement are easy to stomach.  It doesn’t take any maturity to handle it well.

           Sometimes love gets a little salty.  Let your speech be always with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.  Col 4:6.  Salt can sting an open wound, and sometimes that is exactly what we need—a sharp word to wake us up.  That one is harder to handle, but what are we?  Toddlers who still think that discipline means Mama and Daddy are mean, or adults who have learned the benefits of correction?
 
             Keith grew up in a family where compliments were rare, almost non-existent.  Until the day they died I never once heard his parents praise one of his sermons or Bible lessons.  They viewed criticism as a way of helping, and if they didn’t love him why would they try to help at all?  Most of the people up in those hills were exactly the same way.  They appreciated plain speech, people saying what they mean and meaning what they say.  They viewed pro forma compliments as hypocritical, and indeed, any teacher knows when the man shaking his hand and saying, “Good lesson,” means it and when he doesn’t.

              And we should recognize the value of love in all its forms.  When you know that a rebuke comes from a heart of love it is much easier to take, even a salty one—love shortens those tough strands of “gluten” and makes them tenderer and easier to chew on.  Don’t ever dismiss a word of exhortation because it doesn’t taste good to you.  God expects you to recognize the shortening and use the admonition to improve yourself whether you like its flavor or not. 

             A friend of mine once tried to sift some biscuit mix to “get out all those lumps,” not realizing they were lumps of shortening.  What she produced were the toughest biscuits anyone ever tried to eat.  If you try to get rid of the rebuke, even if it is shortened with love, God won’t be happy with your end product either.  In fact, the comment you get from Him when you try to excuse yourself from not listening is likely to be something like, “That’s tough!”
 
Let a righteous man strike me—it is a kindness; let him rebuke me—it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it... ​Better is open rebuke than hidden love. Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy… Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent…Psa 141:5; Prov 27:5,6; Rev 3:19. 
 
Dene Ward
 

I bet you have some of those recipes yourself—Hawaiian pizza, nacho cheese stuffed shells, Mexican lasagna, spinach and feta calzones.  It may not be an upscale restaurant’s version of fusion cooking, but for most of us it’s as close as it gets.  Italian cuisine mixed with Mexican, Greek mixed with Asian, French with Thai, anything to put a little variety in the weeknight meals.  And for many of us, they become some of the family’s favorite dishes.  When the flavors don’t clash but meld together beautifully, the whole dish is improved.
 
             Isn’t that the way the church is supposed to work?  God never meant us to gather in monochromatic assemblies.  He never meant for one ethnic or economic group to position itself higher in the pecking order as the more learned, the more spiritual, the more zealous.  The prophets prophesied a multi-cultural kingdom.  It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the LORD shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come, and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways... Isa 2:2-3. 

              Even as far back as Abraham God promised, “In thy seed shall all nations of the earth be blessed,” Gen 22:17.  Not one nation, not two, but all.  When you read the book of Genesis and watch God funnel his choice down to one people, then in the New Testament see that funnel turned upside down to include salvation for all in the fulfillment of that promise, you cannot possibly exclude anyone and still show a true appreciation for God’s plan. 

              And you cannot make yourself better than any other without annulling grace.  For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love, Gal 5:6.

              “God is no respecter of persons,” Peter said to Cornelius, and even he had to learn that lesson and teach it to others.  And the struggle went on for years.  Have we not in two millennia finally figured this out?  Even Jesus began the process when he chose Simon the Zealot and Matthew the publican.  If ever two people, even of the same race, could be polar opposites in ideology, it was these two, but they overcame their biases and went on to work peaceably and respectfully together to conquer the world for their Lord—the whole world, not just one race.

              Who are you teaching?  Who are you welcoming into your assemblies?  Who puts their feet under your table and holds your hands during the prayer of thanksgiving for the meal?

              A long time ago, my little boys wanted some friends to stay overnight and go to school with them in the morning.  “We’ll tell the teachers they are our cousins.” 

             We adults looked at one another and smiled.  These playmates were black and my boys were about as fair-skinned as they come.  Their father shook his head and said, “I don’t think that will work.”

              In all innocence and sincerity they asked, “Why not?”

             Finally Keith looked at the father and said, “We’re brothers, aren’t we?  So I guess that makes them cousins after all.”

            Would that we could all be as color-blind as an innocent child, as color blind as the Lord who died for all.


For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ's, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to promise, Gal 3:27-29.
 
Dene Ward

A young woman is making biscuits for her new husband.  When she tries to roll them out she has a problem—they keep falling apart.  It is all she can do to make them stick together long enough to get them on the baking sheet.  And when she tries to take them off, they fall to pieces.  Her husband tells her, “That’s all right.  It’s the taste that matters,” as he gallantly takes a bite, and a little bite is all he can get.  They crumble so easily he cannot even butter them.  Before long, his plate is filled with crumbs and he has not managed to eat even half a biscuit’s worth.
 
           The next morning she calls her mother. “Too much shortening,” her mother says.  So that evening the new bride tries again.  If shortening is the culprit, she reasons, maybe no shortening at all would be even better. 

            That night, as she slides the biscuits off into the basket, each lands with an ominous thud.  Her husband gamely takes a bite, or at least tries to.  They might as well be hockey pucks. 

            I imagine that even non-cooks can see the point here.  Each ingredient in the recipe makes a difference; each one is important and must not be left out—the shortening makes the biscuits tender, the flour gives them enough structure to hold together.  Why are we smart enough to see that here, but forget it when it comes to spiritual matters?

            One group says faith is the only thing we need.  Another says strict obedience is the only thing we need.  One of them bakes crumbs, the other hockey pucks. 

            Every generation reacts to the past generation’s errors by overcorrecting.  Each group is so afraid of making the same mistake that they make another one, and worse, usually sneer at their fathers for missing it so badly, thinking in their youthful arrogance that they have discovered something brand new.  What they have usually discovered is the same error another generation made long ago, the error their fathers tried to correct and overdid as well.

            Why is it so hard to stop that swinging pendulum in the middle?  Why do we arrogantly suppose that the last group did everything wrong and we are doing everything right. 

            Does God want faith?  Yes, the righteous shall live by his faith, Hab 2:4. 

            Does God want obedience?  Yes, to obey is better than sacrifice, 1 Sam 15:22.

            Does God want our hearts? He always has, and why can’t we put it all together?  Thanks be to God…that you became obedient from the heart, Rom 6:17.

            The Hebrew write equates disobedience with a lack of faith.  And to whom did he swear that they should not enter into his rest but to them who were disobedient?  And we see that they were not able to enter in due to unbelief, Heb 3:18,19.

            Can God make it any plainer?  He doesn’t want crumbs; He doesn’t want hockey pucks; He wants a nice tender biscuit of a heart that is firm enough to hold the shape of the pattern used to cut it.  Follow the recipe God gave you.  When you go about your day today, make sure you have all the ingredients.
 
Woe to you scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you tithe mint, anise, and cumin, and have left undone the weightier matters of the law.  But these [matters of the heart] you ought to have done, and not left the other [matters of strict obedience] undone, Matt 23:23.

Dene Ward

When my mother raised us, she always said, “I’m not running a restaurant.  You get what I serve,” and what she served was always fine with me.  I don’t recall a single bad meal.  Even recently I heard a television cook reminisce about coming to dinner as a child and eating what was put in front of her, so my family wasn’t weird, and neither was I when I followed suit as an adult.  It was as much about finances as anything else, but it certainly helped teach a few things, like, you don’t always get what you want in life and be grateful for whatever there is.
 
             But once in awhile I tried to please everyone as much as possible.  If the main dish was one boy’s favorite, then dessert was the other boy’s favorite.  It was the best of both worlds for them—a favorite entrée and a favorite dessert.

              Recently I have come up with a dessert that has to be the best of both worlds.  I haven’t decided whether to call it a cheesecake brownie or a brownie cheesecake.  It has two layers: a brownie bottom, and a cheesecake top.

              So, if you like chocolate and cheesecake, you can have both in one piece.  If you want chewy and smooth and creamy this is the dessert for you.  If you like chocolate and vanilla, this is even better than Neapolitan ice cream.  It’s even part convenience food and part “from scratch.”  The brownie layer is a mix and the cheesecake layer is all homemade.  A friend told me it’s perfect for her and her husband.  He has celiac disease, so he eats the gluten-free cheesecake layer and she eats the brownie layer.  Like I said, the best of both worlds.

              Now try to convince your neighbors that as a Christian you have the best of both worlds.  All they can see is what you can’t do and how much you sacrifice in time, energy, and types of entertainment.  Especially if all you do is complain about what you can’t do, ruing the messed up weekends, the missed ball games and picnics, what else do you expect?  You are supposed to make your life look like something they will want, not something they will hate.

              So perhaps we should start by convincing ourselves.  We don’t have to go to church; we get to assemble with our spiritual family.  We don’t have to dress differently; we get to look like decent, classy people instead of prostitutes.  We don’t have to give up drinking and smoking and drugs; we get to keep our dignity, breathe clearly, and preserve as many brain cells as possible.  We don’t have to give up revenge and gossip; we get to get along with people and stay out of trouble.  We don’t have to watch our language; we get to look like intelligent people with a real vocabulary.  We don’t have to give up status and money and things; we find our joy wherever we are in any situation—we have learned in whatever circumstances we are “to be content,” Phil 4:12, and contentment equals happiness.

              God does not expect us to be miserable in order to earn Heaven.  Being a Christian is not a horrible life.  It is a life of joy, a life of fulfillment, a life of health, a life of spiritual wealth.  I have more family than any of my neighbors.  One of them was amazed at the food brought during my surgeries, at the women who cleaned my house and the teenagers who raked the yard after Keith had a stroke.  If I ever need help, I don’t have just one person to call, I have a whole list. 

              My marriage is intact and happy.  My children are happy, productive citizens, and servants of the Lord to boot.  We don’t have money problems because we don’t love things and don’t need luxury to be satisfied.  We don’t have legal problems because we are honest and law abiding.  We don’t lose our faith over our illnesses and disabilities because we have something far better in store for us.

              Which leads us to the next world.  If this life has been good—not perfect, for how could it be in a cursed world—the next one will be nothing short of amazing, an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fades not away, reserved in heaven for you,1 Pet 1:4.

              God promises us a “best of both worlds” life, far better than a “best of both worlds” dessert.  But He doesn’t make you eat it.  He gives you a choice.  You can have this world and the next if you do it His way.  Otherwise, this one is all you get.
 
For bodily exercise is profitable for a little; but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come, 1 Tim 4:8.
 
Dene Ward
 
If you want the mentioned recipe, click on "Dene's Recipes" on the left sidebar.

If you are a gardener, you have probably made your fair share of zucchini bread.  We quit growing zucchini a long time ago.  We prefer yellow summer squash instead.  At least it has a little flavor.  But it also works for zucchini bread, and I have found a way to make that little loaf that is actually worth baking.
 
             Most zucchini (or squash) bread is compact and dense, and just about flavorless.  Try this instead.  Cut the amount of oil almost in half.  Use brown sugar instead of white granulated, and at least double the cinnamon.  If you use nuts, toast them first.  Then here is the big trick—put all that grated zucchini in a dish towel and squeeze as hard as you can.  You will get anywhere from ½ to 1 cup of water out of that squash.  No wonder the loaf was flavorless. It was literally washed out.

              Now you will have a lighter loaf that is still plenty moist and actually has some flavor instead of that compact brick that hardly rises above the top of the pan.  In fact, you won’t mind serving this one to guests, and they won’t run away and hide when you mention it either.

              Modern organized religion has suffered the same fate as that old zucchini bread recipe.  It is literally washed out from all the additions men have made.  Just as schools are now expected to teach the things that parents should teach at home, churches are expected to right the social injustices in this world and support every worthy cause in manpower and money.  You can read the New Testament from Matthew to Revelation and never find half the things found in a modern denomination.  But then these are the same people who, like the Jews of Jesus’ day, expect a physical kingdom on this earth.  They’ve stopped hoping for Heaven and settled for a poor imitation on this earth.

              My kingdom is not of this world, Jesus said, John 18:36.  Jeremiah prophesied that no one from the lineage of Jeconiah (the kingly line of Judah through David) would ever sit on the throne reigning in Jerusalem, despite the beliefs of thousands of dispensationalists, Jer 22:31.  The work of the church is not about feeding the hungry—it’s about feeding the soul.  It’s not about making sure everyone has a fair shake in this life—it’s about enduring that injustice and preparing ourselves to be fit for the next life.  Check this out yourself:  churches that are sold on the social gospel no longer preach much about heaven.  To them this life is what matters and that’s why they are so hung up on it.  That’s why their religion is so waterlogged with extraneous rituals and activities.  That’s why so many of the “un-churched” are turned off by the dense brick of bread they are handed instead of the bread of life.

              Get out your Bibles and examine your church against the one in the New Testament.  Look through Acts and see how they converted sinners.  Here’s a hint:  it wasn’t with soup kitchens and Wednesday night potlucks.  Now look through the epistles and see the work they did.  It had nothing to do with gymnasiums and playgrounds.  See what they did when they met together for a formal group worship.  It wasn’t about entertainment.  Now maybe you can see the difference between an oily sodden brick of bread and a light flavorful loaf that actually appeals to the appetite.

              But then maybe it’s your appetite that is the problem in the first place. 
 
Jesus answered them and said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, You seek me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate of the loaves, and were filled.  Work not for the food which perishes, but for the food which abides unto eternal life, which the Son of man shall give unto you: for him the Father, even God, hath sealed, John 6:26-27.
 
Dene Ward
 

At the end of the garden season, I dry out my hot chili peppers and make chili powder.  I have found a good formula, one part chili pepper, two parts ground cumin, one part dried oregano, and two parts garlic powder.  The first few times I made it, I used a blend of Anaheim and cayenne peppers.  This year Keith shopped for the chili pepper plants and came home with habaneros.  If you know anything about the Scoville heat scale, you know that cayennes, while not at the mild end of the scale, are a couple hundred thousand units removed from habaneros which sit at the hottest end.
 
           To make chili powder, you must first dry the chili peppers, then remove the stems and grind them up.  A lot of the heat is in the seeds, so I, being a wimp when it comes to hot peppers, shook out the loose seeds as well—habaneros are hot enough as is.  I had enough sense to wear latex gloves while handling these babies, but that is where good sense stopped.  When I took the lid off the grinder to see if any pieces remained intact, the cloud of chili powder, totally invisible to the naked eye, rose up into my face.  How did I know?  My nose started running, my lips started burning, and I sneezed nearly a dozen times.  I had pepper-maced myself.  I am so very glad I had reading glasses on.  I do not know what might have happened to these poor eyes!  I know people who don’t even use gloves to work with hot peppers, but next time I will reach for a gas mask!

            Sin and conscience work the same way.  Especially nowadays when sophistication is judged by how little one allows sinful behavior to shock him, we have a tendency to think we can sin indiscriminately and feel just fine about ourselves afterwards.  What was it Paul said about the idolatrous pagans?  For when Gentiles who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves even though they do not have the law.  They show that the law of God is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts either accuse or even excuse themselves, Rom 2:14,15.  You can’t get away from your conscience no matter how sophisticated you think you are.

            The scriptures are littered with people who suffered pangs of conscience.  Adam and Eve hid themselves after they had sinned.  The brothers of Joseph twice confessed their sin against their brother, attributing all the bad things that happened in Egypt with the hostile “Egyptian” ruler as their just recompense.  Pharaoh, of all people, said to Moses and Aaron, This time I have sinned.  The Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong, Ex 9:27.   David sinned more than the once we often focus on.  His “heart smote him” after he numbered the people in 2 Sam 24 and his psalms of repentance after the sin against Bathsheba and Uriah abound with overwhelming guilt. 

            Herod was so wrought with guilt after killing John that he thought Jesus was John coming back from the dead.  Peter’s denial caused him to “weep bitterly,” while Judas’s betrayal led to suicide.  Even Paul, a man who surely knew he was forgiven, called himself “the chiefest of sinners” to the end of his life.

            And we think we can get away with sin and have it not affect us?  Guilt is like that burning chili pepper cloud.  You can’t see it, but your conscience will still feel its effects, and if you don’t deal with it, you will lead a miserable life--at least until you burn that conscience out as if you had “branded it with a hot iron,” 1 Tim 4:2.

            Do you know how to get rid of the pain of burning chili peppers?  Dairy products.  If you forget your gloves and those oils get under your nails or in a nick or cut, soak your hands in milk.  That is also why there is usually a dollop of sour cream on most Mexican dishes. 

            Do you know how to get rid of the pain of a burning conscience?  Soak it in the blood of Christ.  It works wonders.
 
For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling them that have been defiled sanctify unto the cleanness of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish unto God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?  Heb 9:13,14.
 
Dene Ward

The first time I received a bushel of pears from a neighbor out here in the country I was disappointed.  I was used to the pears in the store, especially juicy Bartletts, and creamy, vanilla-scented Boscs.  As with a great many things here in this odd state, only certain types grow well, and they are nothing like the varieties you see in the seed and plant catalogues or on the Food Network shows.  We always called them Florida Pears, but recently learned they were Sand Pears, and in this sandy state that makes good sense.  They are hard and tasteless.  In fact, Keith and I decided you could stone someone to death with them.  We nearly threw them away. 

              Then an older friend told me what to do with them.  They make the best pear preserves you ever dripped over a biscuit—amber colored, clear chunks of fruit swimming in a sea of thick, caramel flavored syrup.  Then she made a cobbler and I thought I was eating apples instead of pears.  No, you don’t want to eat them out of hand unless they are almost overripe, but you most certainly do want to spoon out those preserves and dig into that cinnamon-scented, crunchy topped cobbler.  They aren’t pretty; they are hard to peel and chop; but don’t give up on them if you are ever lucky enough to get some.

              A lot of us give up on people out there.  We see the open sin in their lives and the culture they come from and decide they could never change.  Have you ever studied the Herods in the New Testament?  If ever there was a soap opera family, one that would even make Jerry Springer blush, it’s them.  They were completely devoid of “natural affection,” sons trying to assassinate fathers, and fathers putting sons and wives to death.  Their sex lives were an open sewer—swapping husbands at a whim; a brother and sister living together as a married couple; leaving marriages without even a Roman divorce and solely for the sake of power and influence.

              Yet Paul approaches Herod Agrippa II, the son of Herod Agrippa I who had James killed and Peter imprisoned, the grandnephew of Antipas who took his brother's wife and then had John the Baptist imprisoned and killed, great-grandson of Herod the Great who had the babies killed at Jesus’ birth, a man who even then was living with his sister, almost as if he expected to convert him.  Listen to this:

              I consider myself fortunate that it is before you, King Agrippa, I am going to make my defense today against all the accusations of the Jews, especially because you are familiar with all the customs and controversies of the Jews. Therefore I beg you to listen to me patiently, Acts 26:2,3.

              Yes, I am sure there was some tact involved there, but did you know that Agrippa had been appointed advisor in Jewish social and religious customs?  Somehow the Romans knew that he had spent time becoming familiar with his adopted religion—during the time between the Testaments the Herods were forced to become Jews and then later married into the family of John Hyrcanus, a priest.  No, he didn’t live Judaism very well, but then neither did many of the Pharisees nor half the priesthood at that point.  But Agrippa knew Judaism, and Paul was counting on that.

              Paul then spends verses 9 through 23 telling Agrippa of the monumental change he had made in his own life.  Here was a man educated at the feet of the most famous teacher of his times, the rising star of Judaism, destined to the Sanhedrin at the very least, fame and probably fortune as well.  Look at the list of things he “counts as loss” in Philippians 3.  Yet this man gives it all up and becomes one of the hated group he had formerly imprisoned and persecuted to the death, forced to live on the charity of the very group he had hated along with a pittance from making a tent here and there.  Talk about a turnaround.  Do you think he told Agrippa his story just to entertain him?  Maybe he was making this point—yes, you have a lot to change, but if I could do it, so can you.

              In verse 27, he makes his final plea--King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know you believe!  Paul had not given up on changing this man whom many of us would never have even tried to convert.  And it “almost” worked.

              Who have you given up on?  Who has a hard heart, a lifestyle that would be useless to anyone but God?  Who, like these pears, needs the heat of preaching and the sweet of compassion?  Who could change if someone just believed in them enough?

              Sand pears seem tasteless to people who don’t work with them, who don’t spend the time necessary to treat them in the way they require.  Are we too busy to save a soul that is a little harder than most?  Who took the time to cook you into a malleable heart for God?  It’s time to return the favor.
 
And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules. You shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers, and you shall be my people, and I will be your God. And I will deliver you from all your uncleannesses... Ezek 36:26-29.
 
Dene Ward

It is a culinary fact that fat tempers acid.  That is why some of the world’s favorite dishes combine a good helping of both.  Melted mozzarella offsets a tomato-y pizza sauce.  A cheese-stuffed calzone is almost unbearably rich without a small bowl of marinara to dip it in.  A homemade pimento cheese sandwich SCREAMS for a homemade dill pickle on the side.  The South’s favorite summer treat, a drippy tomato sandwich on high quality white bread, simply must be slathered with a glop of mayo.  Fat and acid—the perfect combination; it’s why we dip French fries in ketchup and chips in salsa; it’s why the favorite toppings for a hot dog are ketchup, mustard, relish, and chili.  It’s why we put whipped cream on strawberries and why a Key lime pie is just about the perfect dessert.

            Trials, tribulations, sufferings and afflictions are the acid tests for Christians.  No one wants to go through them, yet we all understand that is what makes us stronger, builds up our faith, keeps us able to endure till the end.  All of us would be spiritual wimps without them. 

            What we fail to realize is that God gives us plenty of fat to offset them.  How many blessings can you count in your life today, not even considering the most wonderful one of all, your salvation?  How many good things happened to you just this morning?  Did your car start?  Did you make it to work safely?  Are your children safely ensconced in a safe place?  Do you still have a roof over your head?  Is there food in your refrigerator?  Is the electricity on, the water running and the AC humming away?  Are their flowers blooming in your yard and birds singing in the trees?  Do you have pleasant memories to calm you in the midst of sorrows?  Is there a Bible in your home and are you free to read it whenever you want to?  Did you pray to a Father who loves you more than anything else?  How many more “fat” items can we come up with?  Probably enough to fill even the gigabytes of memory in our computers if we just took the time to think of them.  If you have trouble, just ask a three-year-old—they are pros at this.

            I don’t mean to make light of people’s problems with this little analogy—but then again, maybe I do.  Paul calls them “light afflictions” in 2 Corinthians 4, and he was including persecution to the death in that context.  Compared to the end result, compared to the reward, compared to our Savior’s sufferings so we could have that reward, our trials and tribulations are light indeed.

            So today, if you are in the middle of a struggle, if the acid is burning your soul, look for the fat God gave you to temper it.  Look for everything good in your day, in your life, no matter how small it may seem.  If that doesn’t work, and sometimes it doesn’t, remember the good that will result from your testing, and don’t let it be for nothing.  Don’t let Satan win.  The bigger the tomato, the more mayo God smears on, if you only know where to look.
 
Wherefore we faint not, for though our outer man is decaying, our inward man is renewed day by day.  For this momentary light affliction works for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of glory; while we look not at things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal, 2 Cor 4:16-18.
 
Dene Ward