While the boys were still at home, we raised pigs and chickens.  The chickens we kept mainly for their eggs, but when one stopped producing well, it was time for chicken and dumplings.  The pigs were meant for meat from the time they were piglets.  We named the males Hamlet and the females Baconette to remind us.  You don’t want to get close to an animal destined for the dining table, but then adult pigs are so disgusting there isn’t much danger of that anyway.

              Slaughtering chickens is not quite as traumatic as slaughtering pigs.  They are birds instead of mammals, and they are small and don’t bleed as much.  We never shielded the boys from these things.  They needed to understand where our food came from.  I think there are some city people who must think meat is left in the meat markets in the night by elves the way they go on about the cruelty of ranchers and hunters.  When you understand where it comes from, you respect the animals and appreciate them much more than you would otherwise.  Both of our boys love animals and treat them kindly but they are strong-minded enough to understand necessity too.

              Lucas learned that respect in a more difficult way than we intended.  When it was time to put down a pig, Keith got up early, killed the animal and bled him as quickly as possible, and then loaded it on the trailer for the trip to the butcher.  Three hundred pounds of dead weight meant he needed help. 

              When Lucas was finally big enough to actually help load, he went out with his dad to the pigpen and soberly watched the proceedings.  Mindful of the effect it might have on him, Keith quickly poured sand on the blood.  Then he backed the truck and trailer over to the pigpen gate and Lucas crawled in on the other side to help load the pig—stepping right into that camouflaged pool of blood.  It rose around his ankles, warm and sticky.  After his dad left for the butcher, he came in to wash his feet, a little green around the gills and pale as a ghost.  He really understood the sacrifice that pig had made to feed our family.

              I suppose that is why the Lord intended for us to have a weekly reminder of the sacrifice he made for us, in all its gore.  Too often in asking forgiveness we are like the city folks buying meat at the grocery store, not really understanding all that made that purchase possible.  We need to come to grips with the fact that our actions caused a death, a particularly horrible death.  Even more than that, we are the reason for it yet again every time we sin.  The way we treat our failings as something to laugh about or shrug off as trivial, we probably need to stand beneath that cross and step ankle deep in the still warm blood of Jesus to jolt us back into reality. 

              Sin is just as horrible as slaughter.  In fact, it caused a slaughter which will prevent another one, but not if we don’t have enough appreciation for it to make ourselves do better.
 
He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, yet when he was afflicted he opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth…Yet it pleased Jehovah to bruise him; he has put him to grief: when you shall make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of Jehovah shall prosper in his hand. Isa 53:5-7,10
 
Dene Ward

A few weeks ago Keith took the garbage to the dump in the pickup as he has done out here in the country for over thirty years now.  It's one of the perks of our rural existence—no Waste Management bill, but that means we take care of it ourselves.  So, since the truck hadn’t been driven in a while, he took it down the straightaway a couple miles past our turn-off and back, at highway speed.  A mechanic friend said it was the only way to blow out the pipes, so to speak, and would make the already twenty year old truck last longer.

              When he got home he muttered something about "those pesky wrens" and pulled a nest out of the grillwork on the front of the truck.  It was well past nesting season, even for birds that do so more than once, so he assumed the nest was empty.  As he pulled it out and tossed it, two small wrens fluttered to the grass, then half hopped, half flew to the nearest thing off the ground, the big shop fan on the carport.  Almost immediately the mother wren found her babies and shepherded them to the azaleas while we stood there a little aghast.  For a day or two we watched as they learned of necessity to fly a little sooner than they had planned, and called Chloe off of them more than once.

              Wrens are known for building nests practically anywhere.  This one may have learned a lesson.  In fact, we wondered between us what must have happened as Keith left the dump and sped down that highway.  Somehow I can see two little heads peering over the edge of the nest, looking down the highway as the wind tore at their feathers, glancing at one another with eyes wide and mouths agape. 

              "What's going on, Ethel?"

              "I don't know Lucy, but hang on!"

              The sad part is that most Carolina wrens lay four to six eggs.  Even supposing that some of the others had already flown the nest, it's quite possible that a one or two were actually blown away in that wild ride down the highway.

              Life can be a pretty wild ride.  It's that way because we messed it up a few thousand years ago.  God told Adam and Eve they would face hard work, lots of sweat, pain, and anguish because of their error.  We face the same things, and our part in sin makes it only just. 

              ​You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm. (Job 30:22)

              Sometimes the winds of trial blow so hard we have to hang on by our toenails.  Some don't make it down the highway as far as others, being blown aside by disease or accident or simple wear and tear on a fragile, physical body.  And all of that is a blessing, really, even if we do have a hard time seeing it that way.  When God kicked the first couple out of Eden, their access to the Tree of Life ended.  But who would want to live forever in a sin-cursed world when we can move on to something so much better?

              I think we often get too involved in trying to find a reason when the ride gets rough.  It seems to be the only way we can handle a misfortune.  But sometimes it is not about a bad decision we made.  Sometimes it's because someone else decided to go warm up the tires and exercise the engine and we just happened to get caught in the grillwork.  Time and chance happen to all, the Preacher tells us and that may just be the only why there is.  Make the most of it.  The other day Keith came across those two little wrens, hopping, flitting, and flapping in the dust of the dirt floor equipment shed.  They had survived their ordeal and gotten on with life.

              When you reach my age, you find yourself looking back on that daredevil ride you have taken.  You hope you can take a little solace in how you faced it—resolutely, courageously, determined to see it through without whining or complaining too much, without being too embarrassed to look in the mirror and see what you were made of.  Even when the ride is nearly over, the Devil may yet come along and yank you out of the last comfortable place you call home and then what?

              Then you live on the thing that God's people have always survived on—hope.  We seem so busy trying to make this life the reward—when it isn't and never has been for any but the unbeliever—that we seldom talk about hope any longer.  When did you last hear a lesson on Heaven?  Not on what happens after death, something no one can say with any assurance at all anyway, but on what happens when the Lord comes again—the reward for our faithfulness despite the difficulties of this life, despite the roaring winds, the monster of a revving engine trying to gobble us up, the potholes and the bumps in the road.  That reward should be our focus, not this wild ride of a life.  Someday very soon, it won't matter at all.

              "Hang on Lucy!"  Making it through the ride is worth it.
 
When the tempest passes, the wicked is no more, but the righteous is established forever. (Prov 10:25)

Dene Ward

Owning a piece of land was our goal when we moved to this part of the state.  I remember when we finally signed the papers and came out to make plans for our new home site.  Walking on this ground was suddenly different.  Every place we put our feet was ours, or was it? 

              We have done our best to be good stewards of this land, this loan from God.  Stewardship is what being green is all about.  We used this ground for our family’s sustenance.  We raised pigs for their meat and chickens for their eggs.  We grew a large vegetable garden, and a little herb garden closer to the kitchen.  We planted grapevines and blueberry bushes and several kinds of fruit trees. 

              We also tried to make the world a more beautiful place.  We transplanted azaleas, jasmine, roses, and lilies, and have added an amaryllis bed, a trellis of six different flowering vines, wildflowers in the field, and annuals here and there.

              We have used it to create a loving home for our children.  Keith and the boys built a doghouse for all the various family pets.  In the early days they put up a swing set.  Later they set a basketball goal in the field.  They put together a backboard to act as catcher in their three-man baseball game (pitcher-batter-fielder), and hauled in dirt from the back corner of the property to make a pitcher’s mound.  We tried to make this possession of ours a good place, a useful place.  We tried to make it more than just a has-been watermelon field.

              You are God’s possession.  He told his people at least twice in Deuteronomy, “You are my treasured possession.”  We have this tendency to say, “It’s my life; I can do as I please.”  No it isn’t, and no you can’t.  You belong to God.

              Maybe it is more difficult for us in our culture.  We do not understand belonging to a person.  That is slavery, something this country paid a huge price to rid itself of.  But those ancient people did understand.  I found two places in the Old Testament where men told other men, “We are yours.”  (2 Kings 10:5; 1 Chron 12:18)  They added comments like, “We are on your side,” and “We will do all you say to do.”  Do you think God asks any less of us?

              Even when we understand that, we limit it, and try to make it sound better for being so:  as long as my heart is for God, nothing else matters.  You cannot compartmentalize your devotion to God.  YOU belong to God, not just your heart, not just your actions, not just your words or your time or your money—all of you, even your physical body.  “It is He who has made us and not we ourselves” Psalm 100:3.  Of course we are his possession.

              Paul reminds us of the same thing in his argument against one particular sin.   Now the body is not for fornication, but for the Lord; and the Lord for the body. Know ye not that your bodies are the members of Christ? Shall I then take the members of Christ, and make them the members of a harlot? God forbid, 1 Cor 6:13,15. 

              What we do with our bodies does matter.  Just as the two of us would be angry for anyone to use our piece of land for something sinful, God is angry when we use his possession for sins of the flesh.  Just as we want to make the best use of this land for as long as possible, God expects us to care for his possession so that it will be useful to him for as long as possible.

              Taking care of God’s possession, our bodies, involves far more than the usual abstinence from smoking, drugs, and liquor we usually associate with this concept.  Especially as we grow older, ailments happen.  Sometimes it's genetics, but sometimes it’s because we didn’t take care of ourselves the years before.  Staying healthy for as long as possible is the least we owe God, but usually the last thing we think about. 

              And after illnesses come about, do you follow your doctor’s instructions?  I am simply amazed when my doctors ask me if I take my medicine regularly, and if I can handle the discomfort they cause.  Evidently some people can’t—or won’t.  The medicine tastes bad, or the eye drops burn, or it’s too much trouble to remember.  We have turned into a nation of whiners.

              We aren’t put here to play.  We are put here for our master’s use.  “We were bought with a price,” Paul says.  Is the Lord getting his money’s worth out of you?
 
Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body. 1Cor 6:19-20
 
Dene Ward

Campgrounds have a lot of aggravating rules.  Some of them are just plain ridiculous.  Yet, I understand the problem.  Too many thoughtless people have no concept of picking up after themselves while being careful where they dump things. 

              Most state parks have a place to dump “gray water.”  We aren’t talking about raw sewage.  Gray water, as defined, includes the dishpan of water you washed your dishes in.  Ever carry a couple gallons of water 500 yards in an awkward dishpan you must hold out in front of you, trying not to slosh it all over yourself in the cold?  Nearly impossible.  And who, living in the country, doesn’t know that wash water works wonders on the blueberries and flower beds?  At least the last park we stayed at had dispensed with the gray water rule.

              I think some of these things bother me because, as country people, we are always green.  We are careful what gets dumped where, even if it means having to load it up and cart it off to the landfill ourselves; you don’t want your groundwater polluted, especially uphill from the well.  We rotate crops.  We even rotate garden spots. We use twigs to dissuade cutworms rather than plastic rings or metal nails. We mulch with the leaves from our live oaks, which we then turn under to enrich the ground after the garden is spent.  We dump the ashes from the woodstove into the fallow garden.  I am sure Keith could add even more to this list.

              God expects his people to be “green.”  Good stewardship of his gifts has always been his expectation, from our abilities to the gospel itself.  You can even find sewage disposal rules in the Law.  Cruelty to animals was punished under the Old Covenant.  That same principle of stewardship follows into the New.

              At the same time, God said, “Have dominion over [the earth] and subdue [the animals],” Gen 1:28.  He said to eat of the plants and the animals, 1:29; 9:3.  God meant this to be a place we used for our survival, not a zoological and botanical garden where nothing can be touched.  When we carefully use the resources of the earth, it will continue to furnish us with the things we need.  So we eat sustainable seafood.  We hunt in season, and eat the meat we bring home.  We raise and eat animals fed with garden refuse.  We carefully sow and reap so the ground will continue to be arable.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of that.

              Sometimes, though, the people who claim to be green are no longer flesh-colored (in all its assorted hues).  They care more for animals than people.  I know that is true when I see a “Save the Whales” bumper sticker on the same car touting “The Right to Choose.”  Let’s save the animals, but the babies are fair game.

              Shades of Romans 1--Paul speaks of the Gentiles who had rejected Jehovah throughout the ancient days and eventually arrived at the point that they “worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator” 1:25.  Our culture has come dangerously close to that.  The environment has become the cause du jour, and while I certainly agree that we should care for the beautiful home God gave us and not be cruel to animals, it is because I am grateful to the God who made them for me, not because I have less regard for humans.  I have always been that way, not just recently, yet I still know that people are more important than sea turtles, and unborn children more so than polar bears.

              So let’s be green, just as God has always expected—but let’s be flesh-colored too, caring about the people, and their souls even more than the animals.  And let us also be as white as snow—an obedient people who worship and serve the God who created it all.
 
From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work. You cause the grass to grow for the livestock and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth.  The trees of the LORD are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. In them the birds build their nests; the stork has her home in the fir trees. The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the rock badgers. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they steal away and lie down in their dens. Man goes out to his work and to his labor until the evening. O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. May the glory of the LORD endure forever; may the LORD rejoice in his works, Psa 104:13,14,16-18,21-24,31.
 
Dene Ward
 

We raised pigs when the boys were growing up.  A pig a year in the freezer went a long way toward making our grocery bill manageable, everything from bacon and sausage in the morning to chops and steaks on the supper table, ribs on the grill, and roasts and hams on our holiday table.  The first time the butcher sent the head home in a clear plastic bag and I opened the freezer to find it staring at me nearly undid me, though.  After that Keith made sure to tell them to “keep the head.”

            We bought our pigs from a farmer when they were no more than 30 pounds.  That created a problem that usually the boys and I were the only ones home to deal with.  Once the pigs were over 100 pounds they could no longer root their way under the pen, but those young ones did it with regularity, especially the first week or so when they had not yet learned this was their new home and they could count on being fed.  More than one morning I went out to feed them and found the pen empty, spending the remainder of my morning looking for the pig out in the woods.

            One Wednesday evening when Keith had to work, the boys and I stepped outside to load us and our books into the car for the thirty mile trip to Bible study, only to see the young pig, probably 40 pounds by that time, rooting in the flower beds.  We spent the next forty-five minutes chasing it.  You would think three smart people, two of them young and agile and me not exactly decrepit in those earlier days, could corner a pig and herd him back to the pen.  No, that pig gave chase any time any one of us got within twenty feet of him, and they are much faster than they look.

            You see things in cartoons and laugh at the pratfalls exactly as the cartoonist wanted you to, knowing in your mind that such things never could happen.  When you chase a pig you find out otherwise. 

            Once we did manage to corner the thing between a fence post and a ditch and Lucas, who was about 12, leapt for him with his arms outstretched.  Somehow that pig managed to move and Lucas landed flat on the ground on his stomach while the pig ended up trotting past all of us on his merry way, wagging his head in what looked like amusement.

            Another time Lucas actually got his arms around the pig’s stomach, but even an un-greased pig is a slippery creature.  Nathan and I never had a chance to grab on ourselves before it was loose again and off we all ran around the property for the umpteenth time, dressed for Bible study by the way, which made the sight much more ridiculous, especially my billowing skirt.

            We never did catch that pig.  He simply got tired and decided to go back into the pen.  I had opened the gate and as he trotted toward it, we all gratefully jogged behind him, winded and filthy and caring not a hoot that it was his idea instead of ours.  Still, he had to have the last word.  Instead of going through the open gate, at the last minute he ran back to where he had gotten out in the first place and slunk under the rooted out segment of the pen.  Then he turned around and looked at us.  “Heh, heh,” I could almost hear with the look he gave us.  We shut the gate, filled in the hole, loaded up the feed trough, and went inside to clean up, arriving at Bible study thirty minutes late and too exhausted and traumatized to learn much that night.

            God is a promise maker.  He has given us so many promises I could never list them all here.  We have a habit of treating those promises like a pig on the loose, like something we can’t really get a good hold of, certainly not a secure one. 

            I grew up in a time when it was considered wrong to say, “I know I am going to Heaven.”  Regardless the fact that John plainly said in his first epistle, “These things I have written that you may know you have eternal life,” (5:13), actually saying such a thing would get you a scolding about pride, and a remonstrance like, “Let him who thinks he stands, take heed lest he fall!”  We were too busy fighting false doctrine to lay hold of a hope described as “sure” in Heb 6:19.  

            That word is the same one used in Matt 27:64-66.  The priests and Pharisees implored Pilate to make Jesus’ tomb “sure” so his disciples could not steal the body and claim a resurrection.  He told the guards, “Make it as sure as you can.”  Do you think they would have been careless about it?  Do you think there was anything at all uncertain about the seal on that tomb?  Not if you understand the disciplinary habits of the Roman army.  It is not quite as obvious because of the different translation choice, but the Philippian jailor was given the same order, using the same word, when Paul and Silas were put in prison:  “Charging the jailor to keep them safely [sure],” and he was ready to kill himself when he thought they had escaped.

            That is how sure our hope is—“an anchor…steadfast and sure.”  It isn’t like a pig we have to chase down.  It isn’t going to slip through our fingers if we don’t want it to.  Paul told the Thessalonians that “sure” hope would comfort them, 2 Thes 2:16.  How comforting is it to be fretting all the time about whether or not you’re going to Heaven?  How reassuring is it to picture God as someone who sits up there waiting for you to slip so He can say, “Gotcha!”  That is how we treat Him when we talk about our hope as anything less than certain.

            I never knew what to expect when I stepped out of my door the first few weeks with a new piglet.  If we hadn’t needed it, I would not have put myself through the anxiety and the ordeal.  Why in the world would anyone think that God wants us to feel that way about our salvation?
 
…in hope of eternal life, which God, who cannot lie, promised before times eternal, Titus 1:2.
 
Dene Ward         

In the country the power can go out for no apparent reason.  You expect it in a storm.  Limbs break and fall on power lines.  Ground becomes saturated with rain and the trees uproot themselves and fall over, taking the lines underneath with them.  Lightning strikes sub-stations and transformers.  All of that is understandable.  What is not is an outage on a calm, sunny day, something that happens far more often in the country than in town.

            When you are not expecting an outage, it can cause problems.  I once put a sour cream pound cake in the oven only to have the power go out twenty minutes later.  (Yes, the sun was shining brightly.)  I needed another 40-60 minutes of 325 degree heat.  I was afraid to take the cake out, but unsure how the residual heat would affect the cooking time, nor how the reheat time would affect it when the power came back on.

            I decided to leave it in the oven, thinking that it was less likely to fall from that than from suddenly moving it from the oven heat to room temperature when it wasn’t even half-cooked.  Two hours later, the lights came on and the oven began reheating itself.  I compromised on the time and with the aid of a toothpick was able to find the moment when the cake was done but not over done.  It was a little more compact than usual, but it didn’t fall, and it tasted fine.

            When you live in the land of unexpected outages, you really appreciate the consistency of God’s power.  Eph 1:19 tells us it is immeasurable, which means it cannot be contained and is therefore infinite.  Romans 1:20 simply mentions “the eternal power” of God.  Whenever we need it, it is there for the asking and nothing can deplete it.  Every time I hear someone say, “There are so many others with bigger problems, I hate to bother God with mine,” I wonder if they really understand the “eternal” power of God.

            God’s power guards us (1 Pet 1:5); it strengthens us (Eph 6:10; Col 1:11); it preserves us (Psa 79:11); it supports us in our suffering (2 Tim 1:8); it redeems us (Neh 1:10).  Paul prayed that the Ephesian brethren would know that power, the same power that raised Christ from the dead (1:19,20) and the same power that can answer any request we might possibly think of (3:20).  And, he says, that same power works within us as well.

            When the storms of life rage around you, you will not have to worry about the power going out.  In fact, that power will be stronger the more you need it.  Paradoxically, we are never stronger than when we need God the most because we are letting Him take care of things.  Counting on yourself is the weakest you will ever be, and that usually happens on the sunny days, the days when life is easy.  On stormy days, the days when we finally give up and lay it all before God, the power at our disposal is awesome. 

            The Light never goes out, or even dims in a brownout, when run by the power of God.
 
Ascribe power to God, whose majesty is over Israel, and whose power is in the skies. Awesome is God from his sanctuary; the God of Israel--he is the one who gives power and strength to his people.  Blessed be God! Psa 68:34-35
 
Dene Ward

A long time ago, when Keith preached for a small country church, he and I used to do our visiting on bicycles.  With two toddlers aged 3 and 1, we each had a child seat over the back wheel of our bikes and off the four of us would go for an afternoon or early evening of making the rounds to our elderly or ill brothers and sisters, or to make new contacts in the rural community whenever someone moved in. 

We rode sometimes as far as five or six miles one way.  We learned the roads far better than we would have by car.  The traffic on the highways was scarce so we could easily avoid the potholes.  We learned to use the center of the dirt roads.  You simply couldn't plow your way through the thick white sand on the corners and edges.  We also learned why lime rock roads are often called washboards.  Talk about vibrations—your teeth were still chattering a half mile after you turned off.

We found another good reason to avoid the edges of the roads—snakes!  More than once one of them jerked back from the road and slithered further into the grass it had been just about to leave.  Whenever we passed a flattened rattlesnake or moccasin in the road, we gave a little cheer.

And we also learned about wind.  I was reminded of it the other day when Lucas called and told me his experience with his bike and the wind.  It goes like this.  You are having the greatest ride of your life.  You feel great.  Your legs seem to fly on the pedals.  You can up the gears with impunity and virtually zip down the road.  Then you turn around to head back home.

Suddenly you understand why the ride out was so easy.  You are headed into a wind that had formerly been at your back.  You pedal harder in lower gears.  Your calves and thighs ache.  You begin to huff and puff.  Sometimes you wonder if you are making any progress at all.  And it takes you half again longer to get back home than the ride out.

When I see someone trying to navigate the trials of life without God that's what I think of—pedaling against the wind.  I cannot imagine facing problems without God.  What's the use of it all?  You can't count on help from anyone because, like you, they are all in it for themselves.  You don't believe that anything good will come from it.  You are pedaling into a headwind so strong you will be lucky to even stay in the same place instead of being blown backwards.  Who will listen to your cries?  Who will hold you up when things get even worse?  And why did it happen to you anyway?  Nothing makes sense.  And sooner or later, even if you get through this one, another problem will rear its ugly head and there you go again.

But with God on your side things are as different--the wind is at your back.  It may still be a rough ride.  Life can deal you some bad moments.  The French have a phrase:  c'est la vie.  Such is life.  You can't get through it unscathed.  But with God behind you, you know you have help.  You have someone to lean on, to talk to, and to count on.  Because you have His Word in your heart you can make better decisions.  Because you pray you can feel calmer and more content.  Knowing that He will send help through your brothers and sisters, through Providence, through his Holy Spirit, and because you believe He will answer your prayers, you can face the impossible and come through it far better than you might have otherwise.  You know there is a reason—be it learning or growing stronger or refining your soul, you know you will be better on the other side of this affliction.

Are you riding with the wind, or against it?  If you don't have that relationship with God, if you don't know Him through his revelation to us, and if you never bother to talk with him unless you want something, maybe you are headed in the wrong direction.  Just because you sit on a pew, you aren't necessarily on the right road.  It's easy to get bogged down in the sand corners.  Just because you were once baptized into the Lord's body, you aren't necessarily a part of it now.  There is a snake out there just waiting to strike at your ankles.  You need to turn that bike around.  He wants to help you, but He can't as long as you keep riding against the Wind.
 
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (Isa 40:28-31)
 
Dene Ward

We had chickens for a while and with the hens came a rooster.  Yes, they do crow in the morning, and not just at dawn.  Sometimes they are a little off—they anticipate the dawn and crow early.

              We had visitors once who were not used to roosters, city folk that they were.  Their three year old slept with them in the only extra bed we had, and that room was right next to the chicken coop.  About 5 am when the sky might have lightened to gray if you thought about it real hard, the rooster went about his act.  We usually slept through it, having been inured for a good while, but our guests said their small child sat bolt upright in the bad and said, “What was that Mommy?”  None of them ever got back to sleep.  The rooster did his thing about every fifteen minutes like a snooze button gone haywire until the dawn actually arrived, and that child came out of that bedroom with eyes as big as saucers.  Too bad you can’t muzzle a rooster.

              But maybe we shouldn’t muzzle those roosters after all.  Just as they woke the farmers to begin their day’s work, metaphorical roosters can wake us up.  Who doesn’t recall the real rooster that woke Peter from his self-deluded state?  And straightway the second time the cock crew. And Peter called to mind the word, how that Jesus said unto him, Before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. And when he thought thereon, he wept. (Mark 14:72)  He wasn’t the only one in scriptures who suddenly “awoke” to his sins.

              How about the lost son?  And he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. But when he came to himself he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish here with hunger! (Luke 15:15-17)  I can just see him leaning over the trough as I did so many times when we had pigs of our own, and coming face to face—almost nose to filthy running nose--with a hog.  He may have been awakened by a pig instead of a rooster, but the effect was the same.

              And then there were the exiled Jews whom Ezekiel spent his life trying to convert.  God said that when the Messianic kingdom began they would “remember and be confounded;” they would “remember…and loathe themselves” for their sins (Ezek 16:63; 36:31).  That wonderful new kingdom would be so much more than they deserved that it would shake them out of their complacency.

              In Acts 2, that crowd of Jewish worshippers were awakened by the events of the day and the convicting word that Peter spoke.  “And when they heard...they were cut to the heart…” (v 37).

              And who can forget the light dawning on David when Nathan the prophet looked at him and said, “Thou art the man?”  (2 Sam 12:7, 13) 

              If you’ve never had a rooster crow in your life, you may still be asleep in your smugness and self-satisfaction.  It almost hurts when you are roused out of a deep sleep, and it should hurt even more when you are roused out of a spiritual sleep. 

              Pray for a rooster today.  And pray that you will hear it.
 
But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Eph 5:13-14)
 
Dene Ward         

 

Neighbors are different out in the country.  First of all, they are a whole lot further away.  Instead of zero lot line houses barely five feet apart, they are 5 to 50 acres apart.  You seldom even see one another to wave, except maybe at the lineup of mailboxes out on the highway.  In the country, if you want to see your neighbors, you have to make it happen.

              In the city a good neighbor often boils down to this:  he’s quiet and doesn’t cause any trouble.  There may be a particular neighbor or two you really become friends with, taking turns having one another over for dinner, going fishing together, loaning your lawn mower and babysitting once in a while, but the rest are confined to a nod when you pass one another on the street and a quick word over the backyard fence if you both happen to be out at the same time.

              In the country, because you are so far out of town and away from help, “neighbor” takes on a much larger meaning.  The very lifestyle means you have far more need of one another.  You pull one another’s vehicles out of the mud.  You tag team generators when the power goes out for more than a couple of hours.  You feed one another’s livestock when the other one has to be out of town a few days.  You swap garden tilling for tractor mowing and tomatoes for blueberries.  You help one another shell peas and shuck corn, and then work together one hot afternoon to get it all put up.  You help load sick, but heavy, pets in the pickup for a trip to the vet.  You trade shooting lessons for help wiring the shed.  You loan cars when one is in the shop, or chauffeur a sick neighbor to the doctor if you need it yourself.  If a widow is alone, you load up her woodstove and get it set, ready to light on a cold night.  If a husband is away and there is a household emergency—like the refrigerator door falling off!—you head down the lane immediately and screw it back on.  When a storm passes through and leaves a live oak half out of the ground leaning over a house, all the neighbors drop everything and run with their tractors, chains and chainsaws to help.  There is something a little more primal about being a neighbor in the country.

            We’ve had neighbors like that and we’ve tried to be neighbors like that in return.  I think it’s the sort of thing Jesus had in mind when he told the story of the Good Samaritan.  This isn’t a matter of borrowing a cup of sugar.  It isn’t about keeping the TV low in the wee hours or not parking on someone else’s property.  It’s about real life and death matters, real trials and suffering, and aiding in whatever way you can.

            Maybe the Levite and the priest were used to city neighbors.  This guy on the side of the road certainly wasn’t being a good neighbor to them, causing them all sorts of trouble and a delay in their schedules if they had stopped to help.  But the truth is, you can be a bad neighbor anywhere, country or city, and the Lord expects a whole lot more from us than that.  He expects us to do just as that Samaritan did, helping beyond the expected—just think what a couple night’s lodging would cost today—and yes, for a perfect stranger.  Was he a good guy or a good-for-nothing?  We don’t know and that’s the point.  If someone needs our help, we help, even a stranger and even when we don’t have time to check and see if we are being good stewards of our money.

            “Love thy neighbor as thyself” was recognized by Jews as the second greatest commandment.  Yet they argued long and hard over who exactly their “neighbor” was.  It most cases it boiled down to a good practicing Jew.  We’re big on castigating those Pharisaical Jews who knew the Law but explained it away.  I think we have the same problem.
 
For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Gal 5:14)
 
Dene Ward

My neighbors have done it again.  I stepped outside a few weeks ago and saw flashing red and blue lights up the hill, far more than one vehicle’s worth.  Since the original neighbor died, his heirs have moved on to the property and begun tearing apart the old trailer he used as rental property.  First they peeled the metal off the sides and sold it for scrap.  Then they tore down the rest.  Insulation and paneling littered the yard.  The trailer itself was nothing more than a pile of rubbish about four feet high.  That day they decided to burn it.

           We have a new neighbor who lives right across from them, an older woman who raises goats and lives a quiet, orderly life.  She looked outside on what was probably the windiest day of the driest month of spring to see flames just across the lime rock drive from her own house.  So she called 911.

            That was by far a smarter move than the other neighbors had made that day, for quite soon the fire got away from them and started spreading.  Imagine that!  Then, to cap off the whole ridiculous escapade--evidently some ammunition was left in the old trailer and it suddenly started going off, at least one shotgun shell and half a dozen solid bullets.  Before it was over three fire trucks, an ambulance, a forestry truck, and two deputies were crowding my narrow little road.  Somehow, no one was hurt.

            No, my neighbors were not too bright that morning, starting a fire on a windy day in the middle of a drought and failing to make sure that all they were burning was wood and insulation.  What could we expect though?  These were the offspring of a man who, on another windy day in the middle of a drought 15 years ago, gave his children some matches to play with so they would stay out of his hair.  That time we were the ones almost burned out. We did lose a portion of fence when the firemen broke through it with a bulldozer while building a firebreak, but nothing else thanks to their hard work.

            You know what?  We often play with fire exactly the same way, with even worse consequences.  The Proverb writer says, Do not enter the path of the wicked, and do not walk in the way of the evil. Avoid it; do not go on it; turn away from it and pass on, 4:14,15.  We go where we have no business being, where temptation sits waiting to strike, and then wonder how we got into trouble. 

            We turn away from good advice and listen to the bad, avoid the righteous and hang around with the wicked, because we are certain we are strong and can handle the traps.   The teaching of the wise is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death. Good sense wins favor, but the way of the treacherous is their ruin.  In everything the prudent acts with knowledge, but a fool flaunts his folly, Prov 13:14-16.  I have always thought it amusing how little God cares for political correctness and tact.  He calls us fools when we act like one.

            God even told the Israelites not to covet the idols their neighbors had.  Why?  The carved images of their gods you shall burn with fire. You shall not covet the silver or the gold that is on them or take it for yourselves, lest you be ensnared by it, Deut 7:25.  God has always pictured wealth as a snare to his people.  Yet what do we always wish for?  What do we think will fix all our problems? But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction, 1 Tim 6:9.  Let’s not get on our high horses because we understand that a Christian shouldn’t play around with liquor, with drugs, with gambling, or with illicit sex.  For one thing, we are just as vulnerable as anyone in those areas.  For another, we are just as bad when we think money is the be-all and end-all.  We are playing with dynamite that could explode in our faces just as easily.

            Are you playing with fire in your life?  Are you too sure of yourself, so confident in your ability to overcome that you place yourself in harm’s way and practically dare the Devil to come get you?   Remember God’s opinion of such a person.  I don’t want him to call me a fool on the day it matters the most.
 
Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched? The fear of the LORD is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death, Prov 6:27,28; 14:27.
 
Dene Ward