“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it. (Matt 13:45-46)
            Over forty years ago we were given the granddaddy of all winter squashes.  It sat nearly two feet high on its belled bottom, but would have been much higher if the neck had been straight.  Instead the neck bent over and made a nifty handle to carry it by, which helped a lot since it must have weighed about twenty pounds.
            We really enjoyed that squash.  It was the sweetest winter squash we ever ate, and as long as you were eating on the neck, you could cut off what you needed and just cover the end with plastic wrap until the next time.  Only when you reached the bell did you need to go ahead and scrape out the seeds and cook it all.
            So last year we decided to look for seeds for that squash.  We are now living over a thousand miles south of where we lived back then, and we could not even remember the name of the person who gave it to us.  We sent letters up to old friends and they had never seen or heard of anything matching its description.  Turns out the name we thought we remembered was not really a name, either.  "King" squash was evidently someone's description of this behemoth which they considered the "king" of all squashes.
            So we gave up on the name and started reading descriptions in seed catalogues.  Most had nothing even close.  The same old butternut, acorn, and spaghetti squashes filled the catalogue pages.  Finally we found a catalogue that specialized in heirloom varieties.  They had something called a Cushaw that was long and weighed about the right amount.  The neck was straight and just as thick as the body, so that wasn't quite right, but it was the closest thing we could find.  So we ordered some seeds.  The color wasn't right when the vine finally bore fruit.  But we didn't give up on it until we had cooked it and eaten it.  This was not the "king" squash we had enjoyed so many years ago.
            So we tried again.  This time we scoured the internet.  A friend became interested and decided to help and he is the one who finally found it.  He didn't find it by the name "squash."  He found it by the name "pumpkin."  And we came to learn that there isn't one name for this vegetable, just several descriptions.  It's a "neck pumpkin" because of the long, curved neck, or it's a Pennsylvania Dutch crookneck squash, once again because of the curved neck, but also because of its origins.  I use it like squash and I use it like pumpkin, and it fits nearly any recipe for those things as long as you follow the cooking instructions.        
          Seems to me that the same things can be true of the New Testament church.  I know people who have found it, not by the sign by the highway, but by matching what it does with what the church in the Bible did.  Not by matching a creed, or a preacher, or even a "name," but by whether or not it followed God's law.  Just cut it open, take a taste and see.  If you go out looking for a name on a sign, you can still find the wrong thing.  If you look only at the outside, you can miss it altogether.  It's the inner workings, the body of Christ following its head, the bride of Christ in subjection to the bridegroom, the vine bearing the fruit of the Spirit, the building built on the proper cornerstone and foundation.
            It can be done.  I know people who have.  It's up to us to be that body, to match the description and taste like the real thing so that anyone who does come looking can find us.
 
But if all prophesy, and an unbeliever or outsider 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 worship God and declare that God is really among you. (1Cor 14:24-25)
 
Dene Ward

I grew up in Tampa.  I learned to drive down Busch Blvd when there were actually empty, weedy lots between Temple Terrace and Florida Avenue.  I drove on I-75 with a learner’s permit, what is now I-275, and even into downtown Tampa where my eye doctor had his office in a 20 story “skyscraper”—by Florida standards anyway.  I drove down 75 past Howard and Armenia to shop at the only mall in town, Westshore Plaza, in an era when sometimes you wouldn’t see more than 3 other cars on your side of the interstate.  Yes, it was a long, long time ago.
            I took Driver’s Ed at King High School.  They had a little driving course in the back of the school.  A two lane “street” painted on a parking lot with stop signs, yield signs, diagonal parking, and pylons for practicing parallel parking.  I could drive that course without a hitch and usually even managed to parallel park without crushing a pylon.
            But we never practiced U-turns.  So one day after I had passed my exam and had my own brand new driver’s license complete with the requisite peon-home-from-working-the-field picture, I was headed west on Busch Blvd and realized I had passed my turn-off.  Time for my first U-turn.  I pulled into the left lane and patiently waited for the traffic on the other side to clear.  It may have been years ago, but traffic was not kind that day.  Those cars were spaced just so that I had to wait far longer than if it were a normal left turn.  I knew I needed time to straighten out the car and get back up to 45 mph before any oncoming traffic reached me.
            Finally there was a break, just barely big enough for me to maneuver, if I hurried.  So I spun that wheel hard to the left and pulled out and hit the gas.  My little Mustang made it to the far right lane before completely turning, but almost immediately I was in trouble.  I had kept the wheel turned too long.  The tires screeched as I crossed back over all three lanes and was headed for the median.  Even though I needed to let go of the steering wheel I couldn’t.  I had thrown myself nearly into the passenger seat and was hanging on for dear life.  Thoroughly panicked, I finally let loose enough for the wheel to slide between my hands and allow the car to straighten.  I took my foot off the gas and shifted back into the seat just in time to miss the median and straighten myself out in the left lane.  No one and nothing was hurt but my pride.  I slunk in the seat as the oncoming traffic caught up and passed me, hoping no one I knew had seen that.
            That’s what a lack of experience will do for you.  I was old enough to drive.  But I had never performed that maneuver before, and had probably never paid enough attention to my parents as they did.  “It’s just a longer left turn,” I thought.  No, it’s a bit more than that.
            U-turns in life can be difficult too.  I have seen so many young people completely disillusioned because they thought making those U-turns after their baptism would be a cinch.  Now that I’ve turned my life over to God I won’t feel those temptations any more, they think.  I will suddenly be a changed person, able to live perfectly from here on in.  Once again a lack of experience is showing.
            We can be forgiven from our sins, but very often the consequences are still there to live with.  That can mean things as difficult as serving jail time or fighting addiction or dealing with people we have hurt physically or emotionally.  It can also mean the urges of a besetting sin.  You will still have to work on it.  You may need to change not just your life, but your schedule and your friends in order to see a difference.  The same things that tempted you before will continue to tempt you, and the Devil will try even harder because he thinks he might have lost you.  Why work on the ones who are securely under his belt?
            Tell your children these things.  Tell that neighbor you are trying to convert.  If they are not prepared for reality, they may lose hope.  But also tell them that now they will have help, help that can strengthen them enough to overcome anything—not necessarily easily, but certainly.  Help that understands what you are going through and will bear with you as you learn and grow with experience.  You may throw yourself across the highway the first time or two, but eventually you will learn to navigate the roads of life, and those U-turns will become easier to make. 
            And, if you have been “raised in the church,” you may find that the U-turns you need to make are of a completely different sort.  It is all too easy when you have never been involved in what we call “the big bad sins” to look down one’s nose on those who came from that background and judge them unworthy because they still struggle.  That is the U-turn you must make:  away from a judgmental attitude toward compassion, the same compassion Jesus showed for an adulterous woman, a thieving publican, and a convicted criminal.  Your U-turn may be the most difficult of all, but he still expects you to make it.
 
But [I] declared first to those in Damascus, then in Jerusalem and throughout all the region of Judea, and also to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, performing deeds in keeping with their repentance. Acts 26:20

Dene Ward

I started teaching women’s classes far too long ago.  I was too young to have any idea either what I was doing or even what I was supposed to be doing.  But at the first place Keith preached—it was a part-time position under the oversight of elders—one of those elders asked me to teach the teenage girls.  I was only 20, but he said no one else would do it.  Then at the next congregation the ladies elected me the first night I attended the class that was already in existence.  Even though there were women forty years older than I, they thought that being “the preacher’s wife” made me automatically qualified.  I, who should have been sitting at the feet of older women, was frantically learning as I went.  I cringe sometimes wondering how many women I confused or misled with my inexperience and lack of wisdom.

I hope I have improved.  I certainly have age and experience now, but the wisdom is an open question—always.  One thing about the age factor:  I have heard every excuse there is for not attending the women’s Bible study.  Are there truly valid reasons?  Yes, of course there are.  But there are far more of the other kind.  Let’s examine a few.

“It’s so difficult to pay attention with the little ones in tow, and it’s so embarrassing when they cause distractions.”  Yes, it is difficult, but there is no need to be embarrassed.  Over thirty years ago when my current Tuesday morning class started up, we all had children still at home.  We made comments over the heads of playing toddlers and it was not uncommon that a few mothers would occasionally have to throw down their books and Bibles and run comfort a crying baby or settle a small-fry squabble.  We were all in the same boat and understood, but we never let our children be the excuse we gave the Lord for not finding time to get together and study.

“But these lessons are so hard and take so long to do.”  I am afraid my lessons do tend to be this way.  But really now, what kind of hours would you expect to put in if you went back to school either to improve your job (vocation) or to get a promotion?  This is your spiritual education we’re talking about, and what you know will make a difference in how you conduct yourself in your spiritual vocation (Eph 4:1; 2 Pet 1:10) 

A long time ago a brother went to the elders about one of Keith’s classes.  “It’s too deep,” he complained.  Those good shepherds were wise enough and strong enough to tell that brother what he needed to hear instead of what he wanted to hear.  “If I had been a Christian for forty years like you have,” they said, “I would be ashamed to say something in the Bible was too deep for me.”  Are you aware of Jesus’ statement when the apostles asked him why he spoke in parables, making it harder for people to understand?  Because the ones who care enough will work hard enough to understand it, he told them.  Do you care that much?

I don’t make my lessons hard on purpose.  They seem difficult because the material is new to you.  I am trying to teach things you do not know, not rehash the things you do know.  That really would be superfluous and not worth a busy woman’s time.  Isn’t gaining a deeper knowledge and understanding of the Word of God worth rearranging your schedule, both in time to study and time to attend?  Can’t you give up something in order to study—like a TV show in the evenings?

“Well they are so hard I don’t even know what to write down in the blanks.”  Ask anyone in the class how I run it.  Despite the reputation I must surely have for being a mean old lady who likes to mortify people, I never put anyone on the spot.  If you don’t know the answer, leave it blank.  But how will you ever find the answer if you don’t come and listen for it?  A good percentage of the class does exactly that, and one even laughs about how much erasing she has to do.  Now that’s a great attitude.  Can’t you follow her example?

“My schedule is just so full.”  So is mine.  So is everyone’s.  The difference between those women and the ones who do not come (but could) is priorities.  They decided to make the time in their schedules for a Bible class.  They schedule things around it instead of the other way around.  They have trained their families to know, “Oh! It’s Tuesday,” or “the third Sunday,” and it really wasn’t that hard to do when they insisted on it.  And let’s just put this out there in black and white, plain and simple:  if you are too busy to study the Bible, you are too busy, and yes, maybe even sinfully busy if it causes you to neglect your Lord and His Word.

“Once I get older and have less to do, then I will start attending ladies’ Bible class.”  Wait a minute!  Who are the older women told to teach?  Not the older ones who “have less to do” but the younger ones, that’s who!  The things we older teachers have to tell you will actually help you during your younger years.  If you listen and use these things, you might just avoid the problems that so many of your friends have.   What good will it do you when you finally come to class and all you have to offer are the things you have learned not to do from hard experience instead of wise teaching?  All my “old faithfuls” began young.  The vast majority have stayed with it—that’s why the class looks like a bunch of older women, not because they are the only ones who have time. 

Many of the ones we have lost have moved to other areas.  I regularly hear from them how much they miss a class where they actually learn something new.  “We don’t have deep classes like this,” a visitor to our class once told me.  But here it is free for the taking to anyone who cares enough—and so few do. 

I know I am not some popular, funny, good-looking teacher.  I know my lessons stomp on toes because I make applications that are real to life instead of feel good fluff.  The truly good teachers I know do the same.  We want to help you.  We want to share with you what we have worked hard to obtain, what means the world to us and should mean the world to you. 

We also want to find young women who can take our places someday.  You simply must start early if you ever hope to do that.  I was 21 when I began serious, deep Bible study, and there is still so much left for me to learn and to share.  You could carry it on if you prepare yourself, but I can only give it if you are there to take it.
 
Older women likewise…are to teach what is good and to train the young women…Titus 2:3,4
And what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful [women] who will be able to teach others also. 2Tim 2:2
 
Dene Ward
 

I have been a Star Trek fan since Captain Kirk sat on the bridge of the first USS Enterprise—the first Starship Enterprise, that is—on September 8, 1966 (our time).  I wasn’t even a teenager then and didn’t realize until years later how ahead of its time it was, nor that the strongest episodes were really parables.  Remember the two aliens who had faces half black and half white, and who hated one another because one had the black half on the right side and the other’s black half was on the left?  Our biases make just as much sense, that episode taught us.
            The show worked for me because of the characters and their relationships with each other.  If it had been all about gizmos and explosions, I would have lost interest quickly.  I knew who they were, their backgrounds, their likes and dislikes, and their pet phrases.  When Star Trek: The Next Generation came along, the producers really hit the jackpot and this time people were ready for it.  It’s a shame that the television movers and shakers still looked down their noses.  Patrick Stewart deserved a couple of Emmys.  Brent Spiner deserved even more.
            Get a couple of Trekkies together and they will talk for hours about favorite characters and episodes.  To them these people are almost real.  And they will spot the discrepancies between episodes or movies in an instant.  When Scottie showed up on TNG, having survived in a continuous transporter buffer pattern for 75 years, and thought Jim Kirk was still alive and had come to his rescue, my antenna twitched.  You see, in Star Trek: Generations, the movie that put Capt Kirk and Capt Picard together for the first and only time, Scottie saw Jim Kirk die.  He would not have expected to be saved by him.  The producers should have caught that.
            I’m sure you are already getting the point.  When we are really interested in something, we will spend hours on it.  We will take it in and remember it.  We will catch on to every detail, no matter how trivial and useless.  Why, who is to say it’s useless?  Have you noticed that no fictional character will sneeze or cough unless he’s doomed to a virus that affects the plot?  And everyone knows that the previously unknown character in the red shirt will soon be zapped by the alien.
            Doesn’t it strike you as odd that people who claim to be children of God know so little about His word?  That people who call themselves disciples of Christ have a problem remembering the main events of his life?  Forget about the details.  (Quick!  Name Jesus’ brothers.  How about his cousins?  Name all eleven of the Simons/Simeons in the Bible.  Which apostles were known by at least three names?)
            As people of God we should be interested in Him and his life.  We ought to want nothing more than to know His will and do it.  We should be able to talk about it for hours and look for every opportunity to learn even more.  I know people who can list Erica Kane’s husbands in order, or recite the starting lineups for all their favorite pro teams, including stats and colleges.  Some of these people are Christians whose Bible knowledge wouldn’t fill a thimble.
            Trekkies are called that for a reason.  They know that James T Kirk was (will be?) born on March 22, 2228, in Riverside, Iowa.  They know that Spock’s full name is S’chn T’gai Spock.  They can even speak a few words of Klingon, a language that doesn’t even exist! NUQ DAQ YUJ DA’POL = “Where’s the chocolate?” a phrase everyone should know, whether Klingon or Terran!
            Christians are called that for a reason as well.  Do you fit the description?
 
But the LORD sits enthroned forever; he has established his throne for justice, and he judges the world with righteousness; he judges the peoples with uprightness. The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O LORD, have not forsaken those who seek you, Psa 9:7-10.
 
Dene Ward

"I wouldn't want to be a member of it."
            The above comment came after a Bible class in which we studied and discussed the very first church, the one established on Pentecost (Acts 2).  Because it began with a membership of 3000 and quickly grew to 5000 men (Acts 4:4), which could easily have translated to 10,000 when counting wives and widows, this comment was muttered by one of the women sitting in the class.  She didn't like "big" churches, and evidently that included the congregation founded on the Day of Pentecost.  Can you imagine saying that you would not have wanted to be a member of the first church, the one where the apostles themselves did the teaching, where miracles were still performed, and the Holy Spirit made himself evident?  Unfortunately, I think I have a lot of brethren who feel the same way whether they say so or not.
            They want a small congregation so they can become "involved" and, though they probably won't say this, "important."  They want a church where they can know everyone personally and have close relationships with everyone.  They want a church where what they say and think matters and where they have as much say-so as the next guy because there are no elders.  Do you think I exaggerate and presume?  I have heard all of these things.
            We forget what the church is.  Jesus did not die for a social club where we get to make the dress codes and decide who can belong based upon the severity of their problems or their social stratum.  (When we fail to meet and greet certain ones in a friendly fashion, that is exactly what we are deciding.)  The church does not exist so we can all get a turn showing off our perceived talents and abilities and garner praise from everyone else, or so we can be sure to have a group who will give our children a wedding shower or a graduation present, or so we can have people to cater the family meal after a loved one dies.  Those are simply the side benefits of being in a body of Christians.  And if those things do not happen for us, we do not have an automatic right to leave the Lord.
            What Jesus died to establish is a dynamic group of believers whose minds are on the spiritual world (the "heavenlies") not the physical; who understand the severity of God's judgment; who believe it is not only their mission to make sure they are saved, but also to take as many as they can with them; who believe their worship must include a life of service to others; and who put the unity and good of the body ahead of their own likes and dislikes.  When we reach that point, statements like the one at the top of this post will simply disappear.
 
But you have come unto mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable hosts of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaks better than that of Abel. See that ye refuse not him that speaks. For if they escaped not when they refused him that warned them on earth, much more shall not we escape who turn away from him that warns from heaven…Wherefore, receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us have grace, whereby we may offer service well-pleasing to God with reverence and awe: for our God is a consuming fire (Heb 12:22-25,28-29).
 
Dene Ward
 

Whew!  It’s over for another year.  Some of it is in the freezer—blueberries, strawberries, tomato sauce, corn, pole beans, white acre peas, blackeyes, and limas—but quite a bit sits on the shelves of the back pantry in those clear sturdy Mason jars: two kinds of cucumber pickles, squash pickles, okra pickles, pickled banana peppers, pickled jalapenos, tomatoes, salsa, ketchup, tomato jam, strawberry jam, pepper jelly, pear preserves, muscadine juice, and muscadine jelly.
            The first time I ever canned I was scared to death.  First, the pressure canner scared me.  I had heard too many stories of blown up pots and collard greens hanging from the ceiling like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, but once I had used it a few times without incident, and really understood how it worked, that fear left me. 
            Home canners are actually not just decades old, but centuries.  French physicist Denis Papin invented a "steam digester"—the first pressure cooker.  Born on August 22, 1647, he also suggested the piston and cylinder steam engine, which was invented later by someone else, but his designs were the impetus.  Papin's Digester, as his pressure cooker was called, raised the cooking temperature inside to 266 degrees, which cooked foods quicker without losing their nutrients.
              I may be an old hand at the pressure canner these days, but I still follow the rules.  If I don't, it will blow up.  No amount of sincerity on my part will keep that from happening if I let the pressure get too high. 
            I also follow the sterilization rules and the rules about how much pressure for how long and how much acidity is required for steam canning.  Botulism, a food poisoning caused by foods that have been improperly canned, is a particularly dangerous disease.  Symptoms include severe abdominal pain, vomiting, blurred vision, muscle weakness and eventual paralysis.  You’d better believe I carefully follow all the rules for home canning.  I give away a lot of my pickles and jams.  Not only do I not want botulism, I certainly don’t want to give it to anyone else either.
            Some folks chafe at rules.  Maybe that’s why they don’t follow God’s rules.  They want to take the Bible and pick and choose what suits them.  “Authority?” they scoff.  “Overrated and totally unnecessary.”  Authority does matter and a lot of people in the Bible found out the hard way.  Whatever you do in word or in deed, do all in the name of {by the authority of} the Lord Jesus…Col 3:17.  You might pay special attention to the context of that verse too.
            God’s people were warned over and over to follow His rules, to, in fact, be careful to follow His rules, Deut 5:1.  I counted 31 times in the Pentateuch alone.  Not following those rules resulted in death for many and captivity for others.  When Ezra and Nehemiah brought the remnant back to Jerusalem, once again they were warned, at least five times in those two short books.  Maybe suffering the consequences of doing otherwise made the need for so much repetition a little less.
            David had a way of looking at God’s rules that we need to consider.  For I have kept the ways of the Lord, and have not wickedly departed from my God.  For all his rules were before me, and from his statutes I did not turn aside, 2 Sam 22:22,23. Many of David’s psalms talk about God’s rules, but the 119th mentions them 17 times.  David calls those rules good, helpful, comforting, righteous, praiseworthy, enduring, hope-inducing, true, and life-giving.  How can anyone chafe at something so wonderful?
            People simply don’t want rules, especially with God.  God is supposed to be loving and kind and accept me as I am.  No.  God knows that the way we are will only bring death.  We must follow the rules in order to live.  We must love the rules every bit as much as David did.  I will praise you with an upright heart when I learn your righteous rules…My soul is consumed with longing for your rules at all times…When I think of your rules from of old, I take comfort, O Lord…Great is your mercy O Lord, give me life according to your rules, 119:7, 20, 52, 156.
            I get out my canning guide and faithfully follow the rules every summer.  I never just guess at it; I never say, “That’s close enough.”  I know if I don’t follow those rules someone could die, maybe me or one of my good friends or one of my precious children or grandchildren.  I bet there is something in your life with rules just as important that you follow faithfully.  Why then, are we so careless with the most important rules we have ever been given?
 
For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome, 1 John 5:3.
 
Dene Ward

Lucas lives five minutes from the beach.  On our first visit we drove across Santa Rosa Sound and strolled the white sand beach, watching the sandpipers’ maniacal little legs dodging the last remnant of a wave as it crept across the shiny wet sand, and looked across the emerald green water for the first sign of a dolphin breaking the surface while the seagulls screamed overhead hoping for an errant crust or dropped crumb.  We plodded along, our feet sinking into the mud, leaning into westerly winds that would blow the curls right out of your hair, our words caught just as they slipped out of our mouths and blown away like dust bunnies in a fan.
            We weren’t alone.  Pale-skinned tourists in floppy sunhats scoured the beach for shells.  Children played tag with the waves.  Older tweens and teens, their hands and legs breaded with sand, carried pails of mud for sandcastles and sculptures, and gathered shells and driftwood for ornamentation.  Lovers of all ages strolled hand in hand, eyes only for one another.
            The beach itself is lined with condos, ten or more stories of glittering glass, reflecting the sun, balconies furnished with umbrella-ed tables and cushioned chairs and potted plants of the sort than can tolerate the sun, the heat, and the salt spray that constantly drifts over the narrow spit of land between the surf and the sound.
            “Wonder what one of those costs?” we often ask, telling ourselves we would never tire of the view and the calming rhythm of waves pounding the shore again and again and again.
            But guess what?  Before long we’d had enough and we piled back into the car for the five minute drive back to the apartment.  The first time we visited, we walked on the beach three times in three days, but soon it was down to one almost obligatory visit, and this past visit?  We didn’t go a single time.
            It’s easy to get used to things.  When we moved to Illinois for two years, I saw snow for the first time in my 21 years of life.  Guess who was out playing in it, digging tunnels through eave-high drifts, throwing snowballs with mittened hands, and building snowmen?  All of our neighbors stayed inside where it was warm, peering through their blinds at the crazy people from Florida.
            A few weeks ago a YouTube video went viral.  It pictured something not often seen these days—a young man helping a poor, elderly woman check out in a grocery line one item at a time because she was not sure she had enough money, and doing it with patience, respect, and kindness.  Isn’t it sad that something like that has become so rare that, just like a landlubber at the beach or a Floridian in the snow, everyone stops in their tracks to look?
            And isn’t it sad that some Christians need the example that young man set?  Giving courtesy and respect where it is deserved and even where it isn’t, yielding our rights, speaking with kindness, affording others the right to make the same mistakes we do without incurring our wrath, and realizing that not everyone operates on OUR timetables—THAT should be so common among us that no one gives it a second thought and certainly wouldn’t take a video of our actions as something rare—even behind a steering wheel.  Instead, we pat ourselves on the back for doing these things once every now and then.
            We should be like the waves incessantly breaking on this world with mercy, grace, and kindness, whether the shore is rough and rocky or flat and smooth.  No one ever questions whether the next wave will come.  It rolls in again and again, over and over and over without a break in the rhythm, so regularly that no one stops to say, “Look!  Here comes another wave.”  If it didn’t come, it wouldn’t be a wave.
            Are you a wave, or just an occasional splash?
 
Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation. 1Pet 2:12
 
Dene Ward

We have been passing a lot of things down lately, and that includes a lot of our garden paraphernalia.  Keith has reached the age that he no longer feels safe working for hours in the heat and humidity of an oppressive Florida summer.  One of the things he gave away was his backpack garden sprayer.  Before, he had two sprayers—one for herbicide and one for insecticide.  The backpack sprayer has become extremely uncomfortable to his shot-up shoulder so that is the one that was passed on to a couple who are just discovering the joys of gardening.
            So the first time he went out to spray the tomatoes and peppers for bugs, he forgot to rinse it out from the time before when he sprayed for weeds around the fence.  He never had to do that before.  That is why he had two sprayers.  So he went right out and sprayed my miniature rose and his first tomato.  That's when he smelled the herbicide.  Uh-oh.  Even if he had rinsed it out, the wand still had plant killer in it.  And that is exactly what happened.  The next morning I went outside and my little rose was brown and dead.  So were the tomatoes, but the rose had been a gift from a voice student 20 years before. 
            I doubt that will ever happen again, but that doesn't change the results.  Or so I thought.  A few weeks later I went out to water my flower beds during the unseasonable dry weather we were having, and as I bent over the rose I saw it—one tiny red leaf, the color of new growth on a rose.  A day or two later, another showed up.  And today I had two small rose blooms.  The rose had risen from the dead.  Not two weeks ago I had snapped off all but one brittle brown stem, and now it is thriving once again.
            Do you realize that is exactly the figure the New Testament uses of a person who becomes a Christian? 
            Or are you ignorant that all we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him through baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we also might walk in newness of life. For if we have become united with him in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection; knowing this, that our old man was crucified with him, that the body of sin might be done away, that so we should no longer be in bondage to sin; for he that hath died is justified from sin. But if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him; knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dies no more; death no more hath dominion over him. For the death that he died, he died unto sin once: but the life that he lives, he lives unto God. Even so reckon ye also yourselves to be dead unto sin, but alive unto God in Christ Jesus. (Rom 6:3-11).
            Too many times we use this to teach our neighbors that baptism is an immersion.  What we need to focus on is that we are supposed to have died to sin and now live a new life, raised from that death to live a life unto God.  Paul was writing to believers when he wrote those verses.  I have no right to make excuses when I sin, not when I have the power of Christ's resurrection in my life.  Speaking of which:
            And you did he make alive, when you were dead through your trespasses and sins, wherein you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the powers of the air, of the spirit that now works in the sons of disobedience; among whom we also all once lived in the lusts of our flesh, doing the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest:— but God, being rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace have you been saved), and raised us up with him, and made us to sit with him in the heavenly places, in Christ Jesus (Eph 2:1-6).  Just as in Romans, you were dead, but now you have been made alive.  Live like it.
            We could go on and on with verses like these.  You may never have realized how many there are, in fact, but that in itself tells us how important this is.  It is also says, "There's no valid reason for having missed this, people!"  Just like my little rose, we were supposed to have come back to life at our baptism.  If we are still wallowing in the grave of sin, something is dreadfully wrong.
 
If you died with Christ from the rudiments of the world, why, as though living in the world, do ye subject yourselves to [them] (Col 2:20).

I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me: and that life which I now live in the flesh I live in faith, the faith which is in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself up for me (Gal 2:20).

…having been buried with him in baptism, wherein you were also raised with him through faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead. And you, being dead through your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, you, I say, did he make alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses (Col 2:12-13).
 
Dene Ward

I have a problem.  I believe that life is a book and I am the hero of the story.  Everything anyone does is done with me in mind because I am the central character.  Any time I rub shoulders with another person in my daily life, that person did it solely because he wanted to hurt me, or inconvenience me, or insult me, or otherwise bother my life. 
            What is really happening is that person thinks his life is a book and he is the hero, and I am the one causing him trouble.  The things I often get so upset about are nothing more than an accidental crossing of paths or an idiosyncrasy that, in my own self-centeredness, I have decided to take as a personal offense when the other person was not directing it toward me at all.
            And in the same vein, I think everything is supposed to turn out wonderfully, a happily ever after for all my goodness and faithfulness, because I am the hero after all.  Admit it:  you have the same problem, and it can cost us our souls if we are not careful.
            I think of John the Baptist, a man whose birth was announced by the same angel who announced Jesus’ birth.  He gave up any semblance of a normal life to fulfill the mission God gave him.  If not for John’s preaching, what would have become of Christianity?  If it took several years for the men who actually walked with Jesus to figure things out, what of the masses if John had not worked so hard to prepare them for the coming of the kingdom?  The thought of 3000 being baptized on the Day of Pentecost would have been nothing more than a pipe dream.
            John also gave up what others might have expected in the way of glory.  He watched Jesus begin his ministry and gradually take away many of his own disciples.  For all his sacrifice this is the thanks he gets?  John did not look for thanks.  Indeed, as his ministry waned and an unjust death at about the age of 31 loomed, his remaining disciples came to him complaining about Jesus’ growing popularity as if it were an affront to John.  John answered and said, A man can receive nothing, except it have been given him from heaven. You yourselves bear me witness that I said, I am not the Christ, but, that I am sent before him. He that has the bride is the bridegroom: but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom's voice: this my joy therefore is made full. He must increase, but I must decrease. John 3:27-30.
            It may have been written many years after his death, but John understood the true meaning of to them that love God all things work together for good, Rom 8:28.  He understood because he recognized the part that we ignore:  according to his purpose. For whom he foreknew, he also foreordained to be conformed to the image of his Son that he might be the firstborn among many brethren: and whom he foreordained, them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified, vv 29,30.  John knew he was not the hero of the story.  He knew that he need not expect this life to be a bed of roses with a happy ending. 
            He also knew that the purpose of God for which he worked was to give everyone the opportunity to be saved, and that was the good for which all things worked together.  If it took his not being able to have a family, if it took living a meager existence in the wilderness, if it took his murder, he was willing to bear it.
            If John could have that attitude, a man who lived a short, strange, sacrificial life and died a martyr by the hand of a ruthless woman and her weak husband, why can’t we who live relatively normal, happy, safe lives? 
            There will be trials.  There will be moments of grief.  The life we live here may not have the happy ending we always dreamed of, but the purpose of God will make it seem like a mere trifle if we just stop thinking everything is about us, and remember who the real Hero is. 
 
Therefore let us also, seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily besets us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising shame, and hath sat down at the right hand of the throne of God, Heb 12:1,2.
 
Dene Ward

The last time we went to visit, four year old Judah made up a game.  He had a pile of "buddies" (mainly stuffed animals) and picked up two.  These he carefully carried behind his back as he walked across the floor.  As he reached what must have been a predetermined point in his little mind, he suddenly dropped the two buddies, one at a time. 
            "Drop one, drop two," he said.  Then he turned around and looked.  Number two was placed in a "keep" pile, while number one was discarded across the room.  Then he picked up two more and did it again.  Before long he had two piles, each half the size of the one he began with.  Then he started the process all over again with the "keep" pile, adding yet more to the discard pile and leaving a smaller "keep" pile.  He did this several times until he had finally whittled it down to two buddies.  When he finished, he looked at the buddy who had "won" the game—the final "drop two" buddy.  He was not entirely pleased, so he gathered all the buddies from both piles together and started over again.
            This time, instead of carrying the buddies behind his back where, I suppose, he couldn't always remember which hand held what, he carried them in front of him.  He could see exactly who he was dropping when.  Occasionally he even hesitated before deciding which to drop first, the buddy which would then be discarded altogether.  Because he could see what he was doing, he was happy with the end result, which was Lucky the Tiger, his favorite.  Obviously, he had rigged the game.
            I began thinking about how he had made his choices.  If one was his brother's buddy and the other was his, his brother's was the first to go to the discard pile.  If one were a newer buddy, and the other an old favorite, the newer one fell victim to "Drop one."  Once he had culled it down to only his old favorites, life became a little more difficult.  In fact, the third time through the game, Leo the blankie actually displaced Lucky the Tiger.
            Now let's put feet on this little story.  Do we ever do the same thing?  Yes, we adults have been known to determine Truth not by what the scripture says but by who says it.  Did Brother Big Name Preacher say this, or some poor old nobody you never heard of?  Did my best friend in the congregation take this side and the guy I can hardly tolerate take the other?  Is this the view my blood family takes while someone I am not related to takes that one?
            Or maybe we make our choices based on how it affects us.  Would this view mean I need to admit wrong and change my life and that other one leave me to live as I want to?  Would it mean that my parents died in sin and I just can't bear to think such a thing?  Would it mean I need to disfellowship my good friends?  Would it mean my children are no longer considered faithful Christians, so I just won't consider the possibility that this scripture actually means that at all.  I've known more than one preacher whose views on divorce and remarriage changed when family was suddenly involved.  Honestly considering the scriptures with rational, logical thought had nothing to do with it.
            Our first allegiance is supposed to be to God and His revealed Word, not family, not best friends, not famous people or those with more wealth or status.  We are not four years old.  We are supposed to have matured enough to make the hard decisions regardless the fallout.  "Drop one, drop two" is not a meaningless game with God.  He watches who and what you drop and why.  He knows how to play the game too, and He will not let His love for sinners influence His decisions about who to drop first if they refuse the Truth.
 
​Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. (Matt 10:37)

​If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26)

Dene Ward