We do a lot of grandbaby-sitting, not that I am complaining.  With this set of grandparents, that always includes some Bible study time.

              On one of those occasions, Silas and I sat at the table and made a sheepfold full of sheep with construction paper, cotton balls, markers, and glue.  The lesson, of course, was “Jesus is the Good Shepherd,” so we also included a shepherd-Jesus and a wolf-Satan.  On the tabletop we acted out Jesus protecting the sheep from the wolf.

              Not only was I dealing with a four year old, but a four year old boy.  As soon as we disposed of the Devil, Silas exclaimed, “Raise him from the dead so Jesus can kill him again!”  On that afternoon, the Devil died at least a dozen times. Eventually he stayed dead, but if nothing else, Silas will remember that Jesus can protect us from the Devil.  I just hope he also learns when fighting is appropriate and when it isn’t, and that the war a Christian engages in is spiritual in nature.

              Some of us have as little discretion as a four year old.  God has furnished us with a formidable sword, His Word (Eph 4:17; Heb 4:12).  But like Peter, we often wield the wrong sword.  While we know better than to hack people to pieces with a real weapon, we stab our interested neighbors in the hearts with brutal barbs and verbally assault the newborn Christians who haven’t had the time to learn everything we think they should have in ten seconds flat.  We slash the weak because they are easy prey and instead of sowing the seed among the sinners who need it most, we skewer them with sarcasm and roast them over the coals of a threatened Hell, expecting the Lord to pin a medal of valor on our zealous chests.

              Yes, there is a time to swing the sword of the Spirit, especially when the weak and innocent are threatened or when the Lord Himself is affronted, but when we fight just for the sake of fighting, the Devil is winning instead of losing.  “Put up your sword into its place,” Jesus told Peter, “for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.”

              Be strong and courageous.  Take up the sword and fight.  But don’t wield the wrong sword at the wrong time for the wrong reason.
 
And the Lord's servant must not strive, but be gentle towards all, apt to teach, forbearing, in meekness correcting them that oppose themselves; if peradventure God may give them repentance unto the knowledge of the truth, and they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil, having been taken captive by him unto his will. 2 Timothy 2:24-26.
 
Dene Ward

              We live on a slope.  The grade is gradual, so gradual you don’t really see it until it rains one of those sub-tropical downpours for which Florida is famous.  When four inches comes down in less than an hour, the property becomes a river two or three inches deep flowing downhill to the run, just past the property line.

              After the rain stops, the draining continues, though it slows to three or four tributaries and eventually two larger “rivers.”  One runs through the front yard, between the bird feeders, down around the house, across the septic drain field and off the property.  Another slants southeast through the PVC pipe culvert Keith installed under the road thirty-four years ago, down the berm on the top, north, edge of the garden and on east.  

              Usually within a couple of hours most of the water has drained, but puddles still fill a few low areas, and you learn where and how to walk for the next day or two.  On sandy land, the puddles dry up quickly, unless it’s the second weekend in a row with a four inch toad strangler.

              We learned early on to avoid those low spots for several days.  We first met one of our neighbors when we asked him to pull our car out of the mud with his tractor at least three times in one week.  Two months ago, for the first time in many years, he had to come down and do it again.  I knew what had happened when, after two deluges in one week, I heard the truck engine roar and looked out the window to see the back tires spinning and mud flying ten feet behind them.

              When you are stuck in the mud, you can’t move.  The wheels may rotate but all you do is dig ruts and uproot grass.  The harder you press the accelerator, the deeper the ruts and the less you move.  Even rocking the truck back and forth becomes impossible.

              Sometimes we get stuck in the spiritual mud.  It comes first with complacency.  We are happy with what we know and where we are, so we sit down, clasp our hands, and contentedly lean back with our feet up on the desk.  Proverbs speaks of the results of being a complacent “sluggard.”  Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest; so shall your poverty come as a robber, and your want as an armed man, 24:33,34.  Tell me the same thing won’t happen when we stop working on our spirituality.

              It isn’t just a matter of continuing to learn, though that is important.  An older woman in one of my classes has expressed appreciation for the new things I teach her.  “At my age it’s hard to find something new,” she said, “but you have given me that and it’s wonderful.”  Yes, the older you are, the more difficult it should be to find something new to learn, so you certainly cannot sit back and fold your hands in slumber—you must work even harder to find those things and they will be even deeper than the “first principles,” and require yet more thought and labor.

              But it is also a matter of progress.  I see people who haven’t changed one whit in thirty years, who still fight the same battles, who still fail the same way again and again.  I see people who still gossip, who still judge unfairly, who are still oversensitive and too easily offended.  I see people who still have their priorities upside down instead of finally learning the higher value of the spiritual over the carnal.  I see people who have come no closer to mastering self-control than when they were young and foolish—they just become too weary to go at it in their old age and that is all that has moderated their passions.

              So today, check to see where you stand—or wallow.  Are you stuck in the mud of worldliness and pleasure?  Are you glued in the mire of wealth and possessions and financial security?  Are you floundering in the quagmire of man’s philosophy and false theology?  Pull yourself out and start moving again.  If you cannot do it alone, call a neighbor to help.  That’s why God put us all here together. 

              And when the storms come into your life again, use your head—stay away from the low spots.  Find the high ground of spirituality and keep on climbing. 
 
I waited patiently for Jehovah; And he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay; And he set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he has put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: Many shall see it, and fear, And shall trust in Jehovah. Psalms 40:1-3.
 
Dene Ward

Every Sunday afternoon I go through those colorful inserts in the Sunday paper and cut out coupons.  We don’t use much processed food beyond condiments and cereals, so I seldom clip the “hundreds of dollars worth” they brag about, but it’s always enough to pay for the paper and pull my shopping trip under budget, sometimes as much as 20%, so it’s well worth the effort.
 
             I regularly shake my head at a lot of the products I see these days.  Convenience foods have turned us into helpless klutzes in the kitchen.  Even at out of season prices I can buy a large fresh bell pepper and chop it myself into well more than a cupful for about $1, OR I can buy a measly half cup already chopped for $3 and save myself a whopping 2 minutes of chopping time at six times the cost.  Wow, she muttered, unimpressed.

              Then there is the “fun factor.”  For some reason we always need to be entertained.  As I flipped through those coupons last week, I came across a full page ad for a new cereal—“Poppin’ Pebbles,” which, I am told, offer “big berry flavor with a fantastic fizz.”  Evidently these out-fun the snap, crackle, pop of the old Rice Krispies I grew up with, judging by the amazed look on the child model’s face, her hands splayed over her cheeks in wonderment.  Now, I guess, our meals must entertain us before they are worthy to be eaten.

              Don’t think for a minute that this doesn’t reflect our spiritual attitudes.  “I can hardly listen to that man,” a sister told me once of a brother’s teaching ability.  The brother in question had one of the finest Bible minds I ever heard and regularly took a passage I thought I knew inside out and showed me something new in it, usually far deeper than its standard interpretation, one that kept me thinking for days afterward.  So what was the problem?  He didn’t tell jokes, he didn’t share cute stories or warm, fuzzy poetry.  He just talked and you had to do your part and listen—and THINK!

              Do you think they didn’t have those problems in the first century?  Pagan religion was exciting.  The fire, the spectacle, the pounding rhythms, the garish costumes, not to mention the appeal to sensuality, made it far more appealing to the masses than a quiet service of reverent, joyful a capella singing, prayers, and a simple supper memorializing a sacrifice.

              Some of those long ago brethren must have tried to bring in the fun factor.  When it came to spiritual gifts, they weren’t satisfied unless they could have the flashy ones.  The whole discussion in 1 Corinthians 12 begins with a group who thinks that their gift is the best because of that.  They have to be reminded that they all receive those gifts from the same source “as the Spirit wills” not as they will—it has nothing to do with one being better, or more necessary, than the other, or one brother being more important.

              They wanted to jazz up their services every chance they got, even speaking in tongues when an interpreter was not present.  Paul had to tell them to stop, to “be silent.”  It is not about entertainment and glory, he said, it’s about edification (1 Cor 14:26). 

              What did Paul call these people who wanted flash and show, who wanted entertainment?  In verse 14:20 he says that such behavior is childish.  In 3:1 he calls them carnal and equates that with spiritual immaturity.  Did you notice that breakfast cereal ad I mentioned is directed squarely at children?  It is assumed that when you grow up you don’t need such motivation to do what’s good for you, like eat your whole grains, and God assumes that as spiritual adults we will understand the importance of spiritual things. 

              And what about the friends we try to reach?  Do we pander to their baser instincts then expect to create an appreciation for intense Bible study, an ability to stand up to temptation, and a joyful acceptance of persecution?  When it’s no longer fun all the time, when it’s hard work and sacrifice, will they quit?

              People who want to be entertained are the same ones who want a physical kingdom here on this earth instead of the spiritual one that “is within you,” that is “not of this world.”  They are the ones who want a comedian for a preacher instead of a man of God who will teach the Word of God plainly and simply.  They want a singing group they can tap their toes to instead of songs they can sing from the heart with others who may be just as tone-deaf as they are.  Read the context.  “Singing with the spirit” is not about clapping your hands and stomping your feet to the rhythm.  It’s about teaching and growing spiritually.

              Being a Christian is always joyful, but when I believe that joy is always predicated on entertainment, I am no better than Herod who wanted Jesus to entertain him just hours before his crucifixion.  I am no better than the former pagans who tried to bring flashy rituals into the spiritual body of Christ.  I am no better than a child who needs coddling in order to behave himself. 

              Imagine what might have happened if Jesus had needed to be entertained in order to save us.
 
For it is a rebellious people, lying children, children that will not hear the law of Jehovah; that say to the seers, See not; and to the prophets, Prophesy not unto us right things, speak unto us smooth things, prophesy deceits…And for this cause God sends them a working of error, that they should believe a lie: that they all might be judged who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.  Isa 30:10,11; 2 Thes 2:11,12.
 
Dene Ward

I will say this as kindly as I can:  Young people, please be careful when you utter the above comment to anyone, especially anyone older than you are.  I doubt you can find an easier way to put your foot in your mouth.

              A few years ago, I was cleaning up my room after a Bible class when a gentleman who was new to the congregation came in.  I am still not sure why he chose my classroom, unless it was the only one occupied, and he was looking for an ear.  I am always happy to be an ear.  I have done it many, many times.  I am not sure I have always helped, but sometimes being the ear is all the help needed, and it's one of the easiest ways to serve another.

              This was not a particularly young man, not many years younger than I, in fact.  But he began in earnest to tell me about his mother dying the year before.  I expressed sympathy, and that encouraged him to continue on.  He had been in the room with her when she died.  He was practically crying by then.  "You just don't have any idea how traumatic it is to watch your mother die."

              I continued making the appropriate comments as sincerely as I could, and finally his tears dried and he left me.  What I did not say to him was, "Yes, I do know what it's like—my father died just six months ago and I watched him take his last breath."  It would not have helped anything, in my judgment, and I soon found out I was probably right.

              We were sitting at a potluck meal not a month later, right across from this same man.  He began to talk about an incident in the service when, as a guard, he had to hold his weapon on another man.  "You have no idea what it's like to think you might have to make the decision to shoot someone," a sentiment that was made at least twice as he reran the story again and again in the next ten minutes.

              Neither Keith nor I mentioned that, as a law enforcement officer, he had to make that decision more than once, and that he finally had to act on it the day he was ambushed by a convicted felon who was under his supervision. 

              Here is the thing, people:  you have no idea what some people have been through in their lives, unless you have known them intimately from birth.  Most mature people do not go around talking about the traumatic times in their lives unless they are trying to help someone else.  Most of the time they are happy to put that part of their lives behind them and dwell on happier times.  Be careful what you think they have or have not gone through, and therefore, what they can and cannot relate to.  In my younger years I learned several hard lessons exactly this way.  Everyone has experienced hardship and trauma, and over the years they have learned to deal with it.  My experience may not be exactly like yours, but I bet our lists look similar.

               Perhaps I am wrong, but, "You just don't know what it's like" seems to serve two purposes.  First, it garners attention.  Suddenly, you are the one everyone feels sorry for and comforts.  Everyone gathers around you and for at least a few minutes, you are the only one who matters.  Second, it gives you an instant excuse for whatever misbehavior you have done.  People will instantly overlook it because of what you have been through, "poor thing."

               But I will tell you that "what you have been through" is the most invalid excuse there is for sin.  You have someone who has been through exactly what you have.  He most certainly does know what it's like.  In fact, he came here for precisely that reason.  He changed who and what he was just so he would know what you have been through.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. (Heb 4:15).  We have a tendency to focus on the cross when we consider his sacrifice, but here is every bit as painful another one, and he suffered this one every day of his life.  Any time we use the "you just don't know" excuse out of an immature desire for attention or to cover our faults, we are belittling the sacrifice he made in the most arrogant, self-centered way possible.

               No one gets off easy in this life, not even God's children.  To expect otherwise is to deny the curses of Eden.  It's supposed to be hard because we blew it.  The only way you can say otherwise is to claim to be sinless.  You don't get Heaven until this World is over and done with.  You may get a taste of it here and there in a good marriage, great kids, and loyal brethren, but then again, you may not.

              But we all have the best help imaginable.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you... (2Cor 12:9).  "Sufficient"—enough for any need you may have. 

               None of us has reason to say, "You just don't understand" to Him.
 
Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.  For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Heb 2:17-18)
 
Dene Ward

Once, long ago and far away, I answered a knock at the door and found an FBI agent on my doorstep.  He had not made a mistake; he had indeed found the address he was looking for.  And why would a federal agent be looking for us?
 
             About a week before, we had received a letter in the mail.  It bore no return address and when we opened it, we found a hand printed letter full of foul language and tons of misspelled words and bad grammar.  I will always remember the last line of that letter:  "If you don't get out of town, I will burn you out."

           We took it to the postmaster of the small town where we lived and, because sending a threatening letter in the US Mail is a federal crime, he called the FBI.  And that is why the agent knocked on our door that morning.  He had come from a larger town about 30 miles away. No warning—we had no idea he was coming, but that might have been a strategical move. 

           We spent about a half hour answering questions:  who we were, what we did, if we had any known enemies.  When he discovered that Keith was a preacher, his attitude seemed to soften a bit.  He began pointing out things in the letter that I, young and inexperienced, had not even noticed.  The misspellings and bad grammar were inconsistent.  The same word was misspelled a different way later in the letter.  One time the writer said, "isn't" and the next time "ain't." 

          "I really think it is someone trying to disguise himself because it is someone you know," he finally said.

         He eventually apologized as he left.  His hands were tied unless someone actually made an attempt to harm us or succeeded in doing so, especially since we had no idea who it might be.  We were supposed to call if anything happened, or we received another threat of any kind via any method.

             It happened to be a Wednesday.  That night we went to Bible study and Keith began talking about the letter.  Then he mentioned the federal agent who had come to our door, "Because sending threats in the mail is a federal crime, you know."  Most people crowded around to hear the story and expressed horror that we had received something like that.  We made sure they knew the letter was counted as evidence in the case and was still in the agent's hands.

           We never received another letter, phone call, or threat of any sort while we lived there.  Of course we cannot prove it, but we think someone in the church had his toes stepped on and was trying to run us off.  We wonder if we were making progress with some and that others were afraid their sins would be uncovered.

          "But," you say, astounded, "would a Christian really stoop so low as to issue what could be taken as a murder threat?"

           Just who was it who plotted to kill Jesus?  The very religious leaders who should have recognized who he was and followed him—scribes, Pharisees, priests.  When people do not like your message, they will go farther than even they would have ever imagined to get rid of the messenger.  We have been lied about more than once.  We have been kicked out precisely because of what was preached—it wasn't even denied. 

          How did "Hosanna" become "Crucify him" in a week's time?  Corrupt leadership, the Lord's demand for commitment, humility, and sacrifice, refusal to see the true nature of the kingdom, and a mob mentality that always strays far from the personal ethics one claims.
 
            Any of us can fall prey to this.  It's hard to hear that we need to change.  It's difficult to face up to our sins.  It's challenging to realize we have faulty expectations of the Lord and what He expects of us.  It's tough realizing you have been wrong about something your entire life.  The devil will take your heart and twist it to the point that you won't even see the wrong you are doing in retaliation.

          Whoever sent that threatening letter got a rude awakening when he found out the FBI was involved and he could go to prison for what he had done.  There is a far worse imprisonment than that when we blame the Message on the messenger.  Getting rid of him won't change your stance before your Maker.
 
“You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit. As your fathers did, so do you. Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed those who announced beforehand the coming of the Righteous One, whom you have now betrayed and murdered, you who received the law as delivered by angels and did not keep it.” (Acts 7:51-53)
 
Dene Ward

We just bundled several services for a better price and more items.  In fact, the price we were quoted for four services was what we had before paid for two.  We asked every question we could think to ask.  Everything sounded good and we were thrilled.

              We just got the first bill.  I spent the next half hour on the phone trying to find out why this bill was 30% higher than I was told it would be.  Easy one, as it turns out.  The quote I got was the base price and did not include taxes, surcharges and all sorts of fees.   

             I was not happy. Yet, after I sat down and refigured everything, we were still getting four services for the price we had formerly paid for three.  We are still saving money, which was the reason for the whole switch.  Everything had become higher than our new retirement budget allowed and now, despite my disappointment, we are still under budget. 

              Don’t you just hate fine print?  I would much rather know what the total price is, not be surprised with it when the first bill arrives.

              Jesus did not believe in fine print either.  He laid it on the line. 
              “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.”
              “I came not to bring peace but a sword.”
              “Go and sell all you have and follow me.”
              “If any would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
              “You shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake.”
              “Some of you will be put to death.”
              “If you do not repent, you shall all likewise perish.”
              “Go thy way and sin no more.”

              Jesus told everyone what to expect.  He never sugar-coated it.  He never promised wealth and ease in this life.  What he did promise was a life of bliss and glory--in Eternity, not in Time.  And it isn’t a bait and switch.   

              He never said you won’t be persecuted.  In fact, he told his people to count on it.  He told them to rejoice when they were badly treated.  It puts us in good company.  “For so persecuted they the prophets before you.”

              He never said wealth would accompany our conversions.  In fact, he called wealth a danger to our souls. 

              He never said we would be healthy; that no trials of life would ever touch us.  He simply said, “I know how you feel.  I will not forsake you.”

              Jesus spelled it out.  We can know the final bill before it ever arrives.  If we are shocked because we have to suffer, then we just ignored what we did not want to hear.  He never tried to hide it.

              He also told us exactly what He will give us.  I am still getting a good deal on my little bundle, but it doesn’t compare to the deal I get with the Lord.  What the Lord offers is beyond our imaginations.  Even the words God uses for our frail intellect cannot express the glory that awaits a child of God.

              Go ahead and sign the contract.  You won’t have a nasty surprise in the mail.  And if you have signed already, remind yourself of the bundle that awaits you, especially if you are in the midst of trials now.  It is well worth the cost.
 
His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant: you have been faithful over a few things, I will set you over many things; enter you into the joy of your lord. Matthew 25:23
 
Dene Ward
 

It happened most when we went to visit my Great Aunt, the one I only saw every couple of years.  The visit was always an adventure.  She lived in downtown Atlanta in an old stone apartment building on the corner of one of those ubiquitous Peachtree Streets.  We usually drove up and down and around for at least a half hour, my parents asking one another, "Was it Peachtree St or Peachtree Rd or Peachtree Ave or Peachtree Blvd?  Was it West or North or Northwest?"  Somehow we always found it, and had to parallel park on the busy street, remembering to crawl across the red and white houndstooth seats of our big old white Mercury hardtop to the sidewalk side.

              Her apartment was the first one on the first floor, first door on the right.  But when you stepped out of the hall into it, you thought you had stepped through a magic door into another world.  How could this much space be behind that door in that narrow hall? 

              It was dark—dark paneling, dark hardwood floors, and only dim lamplight in each room.  Only the tiny dining room enjoyed sunlight from a thinly curtained window, while the living room window was hung with heavy, dark, velvet draperies. 

               I had never seen such furniture—old, Victorian, satin and flocked velvet brocade, and yes, more dark wood, carefully carved, and sinuously curved across the back and arms.  The lamps boasted intricately detailed brass posts with frosted glass shades surrounded by hanging cut glass pendants.

              We ate Sunday dinner with her once, on a beautiful ivory linen tablecloth, the hem embroidered with ecru, and used the first cloth napkins I had ever seen.  I don't remember if I embarrassed my mother by asking what they were or not. 

                The meal was different too.  First, it was, in a word, late, especially for children.  Even though she did not go to church like we did, she still did not have the meal prepared when we arrived at 1:00.  About 3:00 we finally sat down to something pale and sauced that I scarcely remember, except for the greenest peas I had ever seen in my life.  I probably asked my mother who had dyed them like Easter eggs.

              I may have forgotten most of the food, but I remember the dishes.  The china was small, translucent white, and decorated with real gold paint, and the table was covered with serving pieces that I had never seen before and still do not know the use for.  Each adult place setting included a small matching ash tray because in those days everyone, except my parents it seemed, smoked.  I must have made over those dishes quite a bit because she left them to me—including the ash trays.
             
               She always greeted me with, "My how you've grown!"  I suppose I had if it had been two years, and it usually was.  I think it is a perfectly normal thing to say to a child now that I am an adult, but as a child I felt like rolling my eyes—though I knew better than to be so disrespectful if I hoped to be able sit down in the car when we left.

             We say that to children because children grow so quickly.  Paul calls us babes when we first become Christians.  Shouldn't we be growing fast enough spiritually to warrant that comment from others?  In fact, shouldn't we always, not just as beginners, be growing?  Shouldn't I be able to say to you, "My how you've grown in the Word!"  And shouldn't you be able to say to me, "My how your attitude, your outlook, or your perspective has grown?"

              Or are we still ignorant of the Bible, and shackled with the same old baggage and weaknesses?  We may have a besetting sin that always gives us trouble, but shouldn't we be overcoming more now?  If not, then maybe it's because we are satisfied with where we are since, "That's just how I am."  The problem is, you cannot stay where you are.  If you are not growing, you are dying.

              Wouldn't you just love to hear the Lord say to you, "My how you've grown"?  Let's encourage one another this week to keep on growing.  Let's compliment the changes and let those who hear those compliments take them as they should—a sign of their own growth and evidence of a family member who loves them, even an old maiden aunt who only sees you every other year.
 
…speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, (Eph 4:15)
 
Dene Ward

Part 3 in a 6 part series
 
              Lately I have felt swamped.  When I had to close my music studio doors because concerti and German lieder accompaniments do not generally come in large print editions, I thought I would sit here and die of boredom.

              Not so.  Between a husband who keeps making suggestions about things to do—like blogs—and women who are no longer satisfied with canned Bible class materials, and other women who want weekend studies and lectures, and an editor who wants one or two devotional books a year, an elderly mother to care for, and grandchildren who need my companionship and wisdom, I have plenty to do.  I am thankful for it.  God demands work from His people, and despite a growing disability, I still have much to do.  So do you.

              So how did I get this from the psalms study?  Think for a minute.  What did God ordain the Levites to do?  Just because they could not all be priests did not mean some were free to pursue other activities.

              Levites were assistants to the priests.  They did the clean-up after the sacrifices, some of the nastiest cleaning you can imagine, including hideous laundry stains.  They took care of the animals.  They baked the shewbread.  When the tabernacle was moved, they did the setting up and tearing down, packing and unpacking.  You can read chapter after chapter in Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy and see these men working.  None of them were idlers.

              So what happened after the Temple was built?  Some of the original duties were no longer necessary and new ones developed.  Now you can read chapter after chapter in 1 and 2 Chronicles and see new duties, ordained by God just as the original ones were.  They were musicians, every bit as professional as a symphony orchestra member today, every bit as trained as a singer on the operatic stage.  They were security guards.  I even found a passage stating they were to unlock the Temple every morning, which I suppose means they made the rounds and locked it in the evening too.  Many of the other duties were the same.  They still needed bakers.  They still needed launderers.  They still needed metal smiths and janitors and husbandmen.  I doubt that covers it by any stretch of the imagination.

              The same frame of mind that causes us to work for God provokes work in the earthly realm as well, because that, too, is working for God.  He ordained work in this physical world from the time He made man:  The Lord took the man and put him in the garden to work it and keep it, Gen 2:15.  The only thing sin changed was how difficult that work was going to be, not the fact of it.

              The scriptures say that we are to work for our employers (“Masters”) heartily, as unto the Lord, Col 3:23.  It says whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, Eccl 9:10.  It calls those who do not work lacking sense (Prov 24:20), disorderly (2 Thes 3:11), brother to a destroyer (Prov 18:9), and wicked (Matt 25:26).  It says that a man who will not go out and work is “robbing his parents,” (Prov 28:24).  It says if we don’t work, we shouldn’t be allowed to eat (2 Thes 3:10).

              God reinforced all of that when He gave the Levites their duties in his Tabernacle and then when He changed those duties to suit the Temple.  He didn’t tell one group, “Since there is no longer any need to pack and unpack, to set up and tear down, you no longer need to work.”  He simply gave them new work to do. 

              And who are the priests and Levites today?  We are (1 Pet 2:9).  Peter said it was right for him to continue to teach “as long as I am in this body,” 2 Pet 1:13.  The same applies to us.  As long as we are above ground, as long as we are breathing, we serve God.  The duties may change, just as they did for those Levites, but the requirement to work does not.  You do what you can as the opportunity arises—that’s what those talents in the parable represent—opportunities--not your personal perception of your own “talent.”  God knows exactly what gift He gave you and the opportunities He gives you.  Use them.
 
We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming, when no one can work. John 9:4.
 
Dene Ward

Let me set you straight about a few things today—things I did not know either.  First, the musical Grease did not debut on Broadway as you might think.  No, the musical first saw light of day—or actually night—on February 5, 1971, in Chicago.  It opened in a converted trolley barn on Lincoln Avenue for what was supposed to be two weekends and wound up being eight months.  After a little gussying up, it finally debuted on Broadway on June 7, 1972, and became for the time, the longest running musical in history (replaced by A Chorus Line).  And not only that, neither version of the stage play included the song, "Hopelessly Devoted."

             It was popular in 1978 and I still remember it after nearly 40 years.  Sung by Olivia Newton-John, it was added to the film version, even though the producers were not crazy about it.  Eventually it won a Grammy and was nominated for a Best Song Oscar:  “Hopelessly Devoted to You.”

              I wonder what all those starry-eyed, romantically inclined teenagers would think if they knew what God meant when He wanted you to “devote” something to Him.

              Behold, I will send for all the tribes of the north, declares the LORD, and for Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon, my servant, and I will bring them against this land and its inhabitants, and against all these surrounding nations. I will devote them to destruction, and make them a horror, a hissing, and an everlasting desolation. Jer 25:9

              Jerusalem was to be “devoted” and that meant “destroyed.”  And no, it’s not a onetime use of the word.

              But you, keep yourselves from the things devoted to destruction, lest when you have devoted them you take any of the devoted things and make the camp of Israel a thing for destruction and bring trouble upon it.   Then they devoted all in the city to destruction, both men and women, young and old, oxen, sheep, and donkeys, with the edge of the sword.  And they burned the city with fire, and everything in it. Josh 6:18, 21, 24

              Jericho was “devoted” to God by fire.  It was totally destroyed.  When Achan “took of the devoted thing” he was stealing from God.

              So here’s the question for today.  How do I devote myself to God?

              We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. Rom 6:6

              I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. Gal 2:20

              And he said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. Luke 9:23

              The cross you bear is not some illness or disability or trial you go through.  Most of those things just happen to us whether we choose them or not.  Jesus is talking about something you do voluntarily, and everyone knew that if you saw a man carrying a cross he was on his way to his death.  Jesus says you kill that old man, crucify him, daily.  Then and only then can you be “hopelessly devoted” to him.
 
Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming. In these you too once walked, when you were living in them. But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. Col 3:5-10
 
Dene Ward

You will find dates from 1793 to 1796 for its opening, but evidently this one is on record and cannot be denied.  The property for the City Hotel in New York City was bought on January 24, 1793.  It was the first building built to be a hotel in America.  At 73 rooms it was huge for the time, but then New York City already boasted a population of 30,000.  It was also the first building in the city with a slate roof.  Hotels have come a long way—some of them anyway.

                About fifteen years ago, a music teacher friend and I attended a state level vocal competition in a small Florida town.  She was the state treasurer, the one who handed out checks to judges and scholarship winners.  I was the accompanist for two of the entrants.  When we tried to make our reservations, the one hotel in town, an old Southern relic complete with ceiling fans and rockers on a wood-planked front porch, was booked solid and had been for months.  Our only choice was the motel up by the interstate.  We did not expect much, given the name on the sign and the price, so we weren’t surprised when we quickly stopped by to deposit our bags and saw the size of the room in the gloom.  We had no time to inspect the premises or even turn on a light or open the shades.  We just dumped our bags and drove on to the competition.
 
             When we returned about ten o’clock that night, we almost left our things and fled, but there was no place to run to.  The parking lot had been empty at 5 pm, but now it was full of souped-up, high rise, four wheel drive pickups, their fenders caked with streaks of mud and their windows with dust.  Evidently their owners also found their rooms cramped, because it seemed like all of them were standing outside, laughing uproariously at one another’s jokes and adding to their flannel-clad beer bellies by the six pack, several of which they tossed around. 

              We actually had to pull in between two of those trucks, and all talking ceased as we left our car.  I have never been so thrilled with my regular accompanist’s attire—a plain, black, mid-calf dress with a high neck and long sleeves.  My friend wore a dressy business suit, and we were both on the wrong side of forty, so they let us pass without a word.  When we got inside, we locked the door, put a chair under the knob, and pinned those still closed draperies overlapped and shut. 

              Then we saw our room in the light for the first time.  You could barely get between the outside edge of each bed and its neighboring wall.  The rod for our hanging clothes was loose on one end, and couldn’t support the weight of even my one dress, much less it and her suit.  The soap was half the size of the usual motel sliver, and the bath towels more like hand towels.  The pipes rattled, the tub sported a rust streak the color and width of a lock of Lucy’s hair, and the carpet had so many stains it looked like a planned pattern.

              After we managed to shower in the tepid, anemic stream of water, we pulled down the sheets and my friend moaned, “Oh no.”  With some trepidation I approached her bed in my nightgown and heels—neither of us wanted to go barefoot and they were all I had—and there lying on her pillow was a long black hair.  Her hair was short and very blond, she being a Minnesotan by birth with a strong streak of Norse in her veins.  “Please tell me the maid lost this hair when she was putting on clean—very clean—sheets.”

              “Okay,” I muttered.  “The maid lost that hair when she was putting on clean—ultra clean and highly bleached—sheets.”

              When we got to bed, it wasn’t to sleep.  Not with the noise going on in the parking lot just outside our door or in the neighboring rooms.  The walls seemed as thin as tent walls.  We rose in the morning bleary-eyed and ready to leave as quickly as possible.  This place offered no “free breakfast” and we would not have eaten it if it had.  We promised one another that if we ever had to come back and couldn’t get a room in town, we would stay anywhere else, even if it meant a fifty mile drive, one way. 

              It was a horrible experience, but some of us offer one just like it to the Lord.

              For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, Eph 3:14-17.

              According to Paul, it takes effort to allow Christ to dwell in our hearts, enough that he prayed for them to have the strength to allow it.  Are you allowing it?  And if you are, what sort of accommodations are you offering him? 

              Making a welcoming environment for him may not happen overnight, especially if we are dealing with deep-seated habits or even addictions of one sort or another.  He understands that, but we must constantly be adjusting our behavior to suit him, not ourselves, putting his desires ahead of our own, becoming, in fact, a completely different person altogether.  Wherefore if any man is in Christ, [he is] a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new, 2 Cor 5:17.

              But this isn’t just a problem for new Christians.  I have seen older Christians act as if Christ is nowhere nearby, much less dwelling in their hearts.  Their language, their fits of pique, their dress, their choice of entertainment, and the complete lack of spiritual nourishment they partake of starved him and ran him off a long time ago, and they don’t even seem to realize it.  What?  Do you really think he will stay in a flophouse instead of the four star hotel you should have offered him?

              What it all boils down to is a failure to live like we have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me, Gal 2:20.  Did you see that?  Allowing him to dwell in you (Eph 3:17) and living a new crucified life both happen “by faith.”  Even if you have been claiming to be a Christian for decades, if you are not living up to it, you do not have the faith required.  It doesn’t matter how many times you were dipped into a baptistery if nothing about you changed, or if you have gone back to that old way of life.

              What sort of room are you offering the Lord?  He spent a lot for it, and he will walk out if you don’t live up to the name on your sign—Christian.
 
Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the test! 2 Cor 13:5.
 
Dene Ward