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

We are a self-centered and selfish culture.  If you think that has not found its way into the church, you are wrong.  If you think it hasn’t found its way into your own heart, you are probably wrong again.  Have these words ever left your mouth?  “No one came to see me when I was sick/injured/in the hospital?”  There is your evidence right there.

             God meant for us to minister to others every day and in every circumstance of life.  Too often, if we see our lives as a ministry at all, we see it as periods of service broken up by periods when we cannot serve—for example, when we are ill.  In other words, when things don’t come easily, when things are not perfect, we are “on break” or “out to lunch.” 

              If anyone had an excuse for taking a break, it was Paul while he was in prison.  Yet he tells the Philippians that he was fulfilling his mission to preach the gospel, “this grace,” even while imprisoned, Phil 1:5-7.  God recently taught us this lesson of perpetual ministry in a way we will not soon forget.

              Keith had major surgery in May that kept him in the hospital five days.  In fact, it kept me in with him since I can more easily communicate with this deaf spouse of 40 years than anyone else can, and I took care of many basic nursing chores too.  

              We have always made it a point to treat service people as people, not personal slaves or furniture.  Many waitresses have told us they remember us from earlier visits precisely because of that.  We tried to do the same with the hospital medical staff.  We didn’t complain; we didn’t make demands; we took care of our own needs as often as possible, and said please and thank you when we had to ask for something.  We never really thought about that—it’s just something we do because the Lord would have us treat everyone kindly and with respect.

              One night one of the nurses took me aside and asked about our “religion.”  “There’s something different about you,” she said, and gave me an opening to talk with her about the Lord and our church family. 

              Another night one of the nurses stayed in our room talking to us far longer than she needed in order to accomplish her task.  Finally she said with a sigh, “I need to go check on the others, but I’ll be back to talk more when I can.”

              Yet another day, one of the nurses who had been with us for three days was leaving for four days off, and knew that she wouldn’t see us again.  She made a point to come say good-bye. 

              While we were there we handed out tracts and blog cards.  We wrote down church addresses and website addresses.  We gave out email addresses.  Although we had taken those things with us “just in case,” I was shocked at how many we were able to give out, at how many people wanted to talk.  We thought we needed their care, but God showed us how to give it right back.

              What is happening in your life right now?  Don’t assume that you cannot serve when you are physically indisposed.  Don’t hang an “out to lunch” sign on your life because you have too much going on right now to pay attention to anyone else.  What did Jesus do while he was hanging on the cross?  How many did he minister to?  His mother, a thief, the very men who drove the nails, and all of us as he died for our sins.

              Jesus expects us to live as he did, thinking of others’ needs first.  If you have done it long enough, it comes without thought, even in turbulent times, painful times, sorrowful times.  The trick is to do it while things are good.  Do it in the grocery store.  Do it on the freeway.  Do it at school and work and when you speak to your neighbor.  It must become natural in order to come automatically in trying circumstances.  Any difficulty you have, especially when things are easy, is a telling factor—it shows how little you have been working on it.

              Service, first, last, always--and regardless of circumstances—that is the motto of a true disciple of Christ.
 
I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ, Philippians 1:12-13.
To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak, Ephesians 6:18-20.
 
Dene Ward

We live under a couple of huge live oaks, trees so big it would take half a dozen people holding stretched out hands to reach around them.  That means when I planted a flower bed on the west side of the house under one of those trees, the lee side so to speak, I had to be careful what I put there.  Anything with a “full sun” tag wouldn’t make it.  But it also means that I can grow things outside that others might need to take inside on a frosty morning.  The tree protects them with both the extra degree or two of heat it gives off and its shelter from the settling dew that crisps into frost on a winter morning.

              Isn’t that how we raise our children, on the sheltered side of life, and even on the sheltered side of the church?  That is as it should be.  Children shouldn’t need to worry about where their next meal is coming from.  They shouldn’t be concerned with the office politics their parents must put up with.  They certainly shouldn’t hear about church squabbles.  Your job as a parent is to protect them from those things. 

              But you can’t do that forever.  Sooner or later they need to learn about people, about their imperfections, maybe even the danger they pose to others.  That’s why we teach them that no one should touch them in certain places, that they should never get in the car with a stranger, or accept candy, or look for lost puppies.  It’s unfortunate, but we do it because we love our children.

              I am afraid we are not that smart about teaching our children about problems among brethren.  It isn’t just the false teaching wolves we need to teach them about, though more of that would be helpful.  We seem to have raised a generation that thinks everyone out there is harmless and means well because they speak in syrupy tones and sentimental mush-mouth.  No, the thing we must be most careful about is how they see us handling the disappointments with our brethren.  What they see us do and say can make or break their spiritual survival.

              When Keith was preaching full time, we saw people who claimed to be Christians acting in every way but that.  We saw couples at each other’s throats.  We saw family cliques.  We received physical threats.  We were tossed out on our ears more than once for his preaching the truth.  It may be that the only thing that kept us both faithful was realizing how these things might affect our children if we didn’t handle them carefully. 

              When they were old enough to understand what was happening, we never blamed the church.  We never blamed God.  We told them that sometimes people were not perfect, even good people--sometimes they just made a mistake.  I was NOT going to let what those people had done to us cost my children their souls.  They were what mattered. 

              As they grew older, we talked often about being faithful to God, not to a place or a group.  We reminded them about Judas.  What would have happened if the other apostles had let Judas’s monumental failure run them off?  What about Peter, their erstwhile leader?  If everyone had given up because of his denial there would have been nothing for him to return to upon his repentance.  The mission of the church depended upon those men staying faithful regardless.  God was counting on them.  We told them over and over, you never let what someone else does determine your faithfulness.  God expects you to do the right thing no matter what those people do.  I had to learn to control my depression and discouragement and not give my children cause to leave the Lord. 

              We planted our children on the sheltered side of the house, but then we moved them slowly one foot at a time to a place where the sun would beat down on them and the cold would leave frost on their leaves.  Finally they were as inured as possible from the effects of other people’s failures, including our own.  If they ever fall away, they know better than to blame someone else.

              Be careful what your children hear you say about your brethren.  Be careful what they see in your actions and attitudes.  Sooner or later they will need to stand the heat of the noonday sun and the bitter cold of a spiritual winter.  Don’t give them an easy excuse not to.
 
For there must be also factions among you, that they that are approved may be made manifest among you. 1 Corinthians 11:19
 
Dene Ward

Love looks to the ultimate good, rather than the present pleasure, of the one loved. 
(Robertson Whiteside, Doctrinal Discourses) 

And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest…(Mark 10:21)

On December 9, 1973 Marshall Efron’s Illustrated Simplified Painless Sunday School began on CBS.  Seeing that little tidbit of information brought back words I hadn’t thought of in years.  “That’s just asking too much.”

             You’d think that I could remember who said that to us one evening while we sat studying the Bible in his home.  You’d think I could remember where he drew the line that kept him from serving the Lord.  It isn’t often you find someone that honest.  Most people offer excuses instead.  They understand that they are telling God they are not willing to sacrifice for him.  In fact, they will usually make a list of everything they have done before adding, “But that’s just asking too much.”  What they fail to see is that if they are willing to give it up, it isn’t a sacrifice.  The sacrifice comes when you don’t want to give it up; the sacrifice comes when it hurts. Serving God is not supposed to be “painless.” 

              Too many of us believe that just because we got up, dressed up, and drove to another location instead of sitting there watching some sort of “Painless Sunday School” on television that we are sacrificing for the Lord.  We will sit in the meetinghouse on Sunday morning.  We will even sit for the full two or three hours, whatever our group has chosen.  Just exactly what have we given up?  Sleep?  Another day of fishing?  A little more yard work?  Doesn’t sound like much of a sacrifice.

              Many will alter their lifestyles a bit.  What have they given up?  Hangovers?  Gambling debts?  STDs?  If you aren’t stupid, that’s another easy sacrifice to make.  It only becomes difficult when the dependency has developed.

              What we steadfastly refuse to give up is ourselves. 

              Can we admit wrong?  Can we yield to others?  Can we toe the line, even when the thing in question affects us individually?  It’s much easier for the non-music lover to give up instrumental music in the worship.  Trust me.  I know.  It’s much easier to abide by the Lord’s words concerning marriage when you have a solid relationship, and when your children have also chosen well.  It’s much easier to serve when you actually like the people you are serving.  Yet ease is the very thing that makes it not much of a sacrifice.  The true sacrifice comes when, instead of twisting scriptures to suit ourselves and frantically searching for loopholes, we do what hurts.

              The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: A broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise, Psalm 51:17.  Pain is what makes a sacrifice sincere.  Humble repentance that involves giving up selfish desires and yielding to others who do not deserve it are the most difficult sacrifices to give, and therefore, the ones that God wants most to see in us.  Until we manage that, anything else we do in service to God is a sham, no matter how beautifully we sing, how generously we donate, or how knowledgeably we teach.

              When Jeroboam became king of the northern 10 tribes of Israel, in spite of God’s promise to him of a lasting dynasty if he only obeyed, he looked at those fickle people and said, “I know exactly how to keep them here.”  He made it easy to serve God.

              And Jeroboam said in his heart, Now will the kingdom return to the house of David: if this people go up to offer sacrifices in the house of Jehovah at Jerusalem, then will the heart of this people turn again unto their lord, even unto Rehoboam king of Judah; and they will kill me, and return to Rehoboam king of Judah. Whereupon the king took counsel, and made two calves of gold; and he said unto them, It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem: behold your gods, O Israel, which brought you up out of the land of Egypt. 1 Kings 12:26-28.

              “It’s asking too much,” he told them.  “Let me make it easy for you.”  And just like that, the people in the north left the God who had delivered them from slavery, defeated their enemies, and provided all their needs. 

              What is it that Jeroboam would offer you?

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ, Philippians 3:7-8.
 
Dene Ward

Excuses fool no one but the one who makes them.  (Robertson Whiteside, Doctrinal Discourses) 

But he said unto him, A certain man made a great supper; and he bade many:and he sent forth his servant at supper time to say to them that were bidden, Come; for all things are now ready.And they all with one consent began to make excuse...And the lord said unto the servant, Go out into the highways and hedges, and constrain them to come in, that my house may be filled. For I say unto you, that none of those men that were bidden shall taste of my supper.  (Luke 14:16-18, 23-24)

Have you found yourself doing it lately?  Especially in the past ten years or so?  When people start vilifying the Bible with accusations about irrelevance, hate-mongering, misogyny, and homophobia, have you tried to make excuses for God?  Especially when it comes from people who claim to believe that Bible but come right out and say it's wrong, do you feel the need to apologize for God?

              I think I may have done that.  I think I may have said things that sounded like I was embarrassed by what I believed.  Finally, it hit me like a brick.  If someone were embarrassed to admit they knew me, I would just leave.  Wouldn't you?  So how do you suppose our Father feels? 

               Just what are we claiming to be, people?  Disciples of Christ or not?  Servants of God or not?

              If you love me, you will keep my commandments, Jesus said in John 14:15.  Well, do you love him?

                By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments. (1John 5:2)  The world will try to tell you just the opposite—that keeping God's commands means you do not love people.  Who do you believe?

              For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments: and his commandments are not grievous. (1John 5:3)  Or do you disagree with John?  Are God's commands too embarrassing to profess, too difficult in our culture's anti-morality, and too polarizing for our own comfortable lifestyles?

              Until someone else comes along who will empty himself of Deity to become a man, suffer through the undignified life of humanity and die an ignominious death for me, who am I to say I don't agree with God's morality, with commands that affect what I can and cannot do in service to him, and how much I must put up with in other people?  I will do as I am told because no one else loved me that much and no one else created me; no one else has the power to blink us all out of existence with a thought.  Just what in the world are you thinking when you go around apologizing for God and his Word as if it were something embarrassing we have to put up with?  If you hate having to live by God's rules, you may as well quit pretending. 

              This is what God told Jeremiah when he faced a group of arrogant, hard-headed, disobedient, unfaithful people, people who would ridicule and persecute him, and it would serve us well to remember it as we face that same group several thousand years later:

              Then I said, “Ah, Lord GOD! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth.” But the LORD said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a youth’; for to all to whom I send you, you shall go, and whatever I command you, you shall speak. ​Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, declares the LORD.” (Jer 1:6-8)
 
Dene Ward