The day of our 20th anniversary marked the day I had lived with my husband as long as I had lived without him.  Well, not exactly, since I did not marry on my birthday, but you understand my point.  Every year after that meant I was further and further removed from my “first life” as a dependent of my parents.

              As the years went by I saw even more “lives.”  I spent several years as a full-time preacher’s wife and homemaker who taught a few piano lessons here and there among the many moves we made.  Then I went through a life when my husband worked the regular hours of any provider and my in-home music studio became nearly a full time job.  Now I am in another life, one of increasing disability.  Yet in many ways it is the best “life” yet since I am finally able to spend hours in Bible study and writing, and have come to know the joys of being a grandparent.  I suspect there will be yet another life sooner or later.  All things being equal, as they say, I will probably be a widow someday, and due to this eye disease will be blind and once again living as a dependent.

              When I was young, I remember people speaking about a TV show called “I Led Three Lives.”  I never saw it.  It first aired on Oct 1, 1953, before I was even born, and its last episode was broadcast May 1, 1957.  It was a product of the Cold War, loosely based on the life of Herbert Philbrick, an advertising executive in Boston who infiltrated the American Communist Party for the FBI.  His three lives were as advertising man, “Communist,” and counter spy.  A little mulling it over and I realized Christians all lead three lives—first sinner, then believer, and finally immortal.

              The New Testament even speaks of it as “lives.”  In Col 3:9,10, the old self and its practices are put away for a new self, “renewed by knowledge.”  The old self was corrupt through “deceitful desires,” and the new self was “created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” Eph 4:22,24.  The old life was lived for ourselves, the new life is lived for Christ, 2 Cor 5:15.  We crucified the old man, one enslaved to sin, and the new man was set free from that sin.  We were once slaves of righteousness and are now slaves of God, Rom 6:6,7,19,20.  We used to live for human passions; now we live for the will of God, 1 Pet 4:2.  At one time we lived in darkness and now we live as children of Light, Eph 5:8.  Once it was I who lived, but now it is Christ living in me, Gal 2:19,20.

              And that leaves only the eternal life to come, 1 Tim 4:8, the one Paul says is “truly” life, 6:19.  That one depends upon how we live this second life.  We must feed on the bread of life, John 6:51.  We must sow to the Spirit, Gal 6:8.  We must have patience in well-doing, Rom 2:7.  We must do good and believe, John 5:29; 6:40.  We must be righteous which, in the context of the verse, Matt 25:46, means we must serve, and we must love our brethren in order to experience that eternal life, 1 John 3:15. 

              But simply making a list and following it won’t suffice.  The life must be such an integral part of you that the “list” takes care of itself.  Philbrick lived his three lives simultaneously; ours are supposed to be consecutive, one completely giving way to the other.  Anything else is a sham that will keep you from that third life.

              Paul never speaks of eternal life as anything but a certainty.  As surely as you are living a life now, that final one will come too, the life that is “truly” life.  It will make these other two seem like nothing in its length, in its glory, in its joy.  “I led three lives,” we will say.  No, we only led two.  We will lead the last one forever.
 
Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, for the sake of the faith of God's elect and their knowledge of the truth, which accords with godliness, in hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began, Titus 1:1-2.
 
Dene Ward
 

I was humming that old tune a few weeks ago when I suddenly thought of that phrase in a slightly different light.  “Tell me about it!” we sometimes say to people who are complaining about something, not realizing that we have had the same or worse experience.  Or sometimes people say it to us, and if we are as mature as we like to believe, we suddenly stop whining out of sheer embarrassment, realizing that here is someone who has not only had the same experience but to an even worse degree.  I often wish Jesus were here to say that to those who complain about his church.

            So they hurt your feelings?  They didn’t come see you when you were sick, they didn’t help you when you were depressed, they didn’t praise you in public after you did a good deed, the preacher preached a sermon that stepped on your toes, and you don’t like the way the Bible class teacher looked right at you when he mentioned a particular sin. 

            Tell it to Jesus.  No one complimented him on his sermons. They usually just got mad and walked away.  Even his own disciples scolded him for insulting the Jewish rulers.  They called him a liar, a blasphemer, a madman, demon-possessed, and a child of fornication, none of which was true.  He didn’t sit there pouting, he kept right on teaching, right on serving, even people who didn’t deserve it, like you and me.

            So the elders won’t listen to you, especially when you think you have discovered something new.  They won’t use you in the way you think you should be used.  You aren’t asked to lead the singing as often as you think you should, or teach the classes you think you should be allowed to teach.  They won’t give in to your pet ideas about how things should be said or done or presented.  So why should you bother to try any longer?  Why should you keep a good attitude, or do the things you are asked to do as well as you can when you aren’t even appreciated?

            Tell it to Jesus.  I found ten passages in the gospels where the people in charge “communed with one another” to see how “they might destroy him.”  At least seven of those ten were completely different events.  Has anyone in the church done that to you yet?  Has anyone taken up rocks to stone you?  Has anyone nearly pushed you over a cliff?  Has anyone even come close to crucifying you yet?

            No, but the church is full of hypocrites.  Why should I even have to sit in the same building with them?  Why can’t I just leave and do it my own way?  You know their two-faced worship isn’t acceptable to God, so why must I keep company with them? 

          Tell it to Jesus.  He never stopped attending the synagogues on the Sabbath, and that wasn’t even part of the Law, it was simply a tradition that had begun after the return from the captivity.  He still attended the feast days right along with all those horrible people, even the Feast of Dedication, which was just a civil holiday.  He never left the work God gave him to do because someone hurt his feelings.  He never quit because people didn’t give him the due he deserved.  He never allowed the sins of others to cause him to forsake the God who deserved his love and loyalty.

            Are you going to let those phonies do that to you?  If you do, doesn’t that make you one of them?
 
…The LORD is with you while you are with him. If you seek him, he will be found by you, but if you forsake him, he will forsake you. 2 Chronicles 15:2
 
Dene Ward

Then Elijah became afraid and immediately ran for his life. When he came to Beer-sheba that belonged to Judah, he left his servant there, but he went on a day’s journey into the wilderness. He sat down under a broom tree and prayed that he might die. He said, “I have had enough! LORD, take my life, for I’m no better than my fathers.” Then he lay down and slept under the broom tree…” (1Kgs 19:3-5)

              If you don't recognize the citation above, it's probably because you have made the same mistake everyone else does.  You have read the account of the contest on Mt Carmel and simply stopped at the end of the 18th chapter of 1 Kings.  You have exulted in the victory Elijah won and left it at that.  Which means you missed this:  it wasn't a victory after all.  Yes, Elijah thought it was too, but as soon as he got home from his God-assisted sprint to Jezreel, he found out otherwise.  All that had happened was the temporary pumping up of a people who lived only in the passion of the moment.  The passion faded almost immediately.  Jezebel was still in control and Elijah was threatened and running for his life.  Nothing had changed!

              What a letdown.  If his flashy victory couldn't save the people, what could?  And so he fell into a deep depression.  "Just let me die, God," he requests, and lies down to sleep.

              The point this morning is not the answer to why the big show didn't work.  See "Pep Rally Religion" for that.  The point this morning is something much more practical.  Times of depression are normal.  They do not mean you are weak.  If ever there was a spiritually strong man of God, it was Elijah.  Yet he, too, fell prey to low morale.

              "Look at all I've done.  I've tried and tried and I am a failure.  I am all alone.  No one cares.  Why should I bother?" (19:4)

              Tell me you haven't had those moments.  Well, you are in good company.  So what was the problem?

              First, he was counting on the wrong thing.  He made a big splashy show, thinking it would turn the people around.  Yes, they may have chanted "Jehovah he is God" 17 times or more, but it didn't last past the rainstorm.  Passion always diminishes.  It cannot be maintained at a fever pitch.  It will simply wear you out.  If passion is the basis of your faith, you are in for a big fall, probably sooner rather than later.

              Second, he focused only on himself.  For those brief moments, a man who had spent his life serving God and reaching out to others, turned his attention inward and forgot the point of it all. "I'm a failure.  I'm no better than my fathers." Paul reminded the Corinthians that he planted, and Apollos watered, but it was God who gave the increase.  We aren't to worry about results. That's God's business.  We just keep working.

              And third, just as it always does, depression became pessimism and pessimism became cynicism, and those things steal your hope.  "I'm the only one left."  Nonsense.  What about Obadiah and the 100 prophets that faithful man had hidden from Jezebel?  It had only been a few days since he and Obadiah had spoken about it.  Surely he knew of others.  He had to for God to be able to speak of a symbolic 7000 who "have not bowed their knee to Baal" and not be overstating the matter.

              So God asks Elijah the question in our title:  "What are you doing here?"  He's a few hundred miles from Samaria, the capital of the people he is supposed to be preaching to, and in an unpopulated wilderness where he cannot serve anyone at all.  So God sends him back.  Get busy doing my work, He tells Elijah.  And there was plenty left to do.  You are most certainly NOT the only one left, God reminds him.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself and trust me, just like you always did before.

              Obviously we are not talking about mental illness or clinical depression.  But sometimes that ordinary old down in the dumps feeling can seem just as bad.  It's normal in the ups and downs of life to feel like that—once in a while.  Even strong people have those days.  But the cure is the same every day, whether you are in the doldrums or out of them.  Concentrate on serving God and serving others.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.  God doesn't.  He let Elijah get some rest, then fed him, and finally, taught him the lesson of the power in the "still, small voice" of His Word rather than big splashy shows.  "It isn't your power—it's mine that accomplishes things.  Trust me."  Then He said, "Get to work!" (19:5-18).

              If you're feeling a little blue today, read 1 Kings 17-19.  When you see it in someone else, it's easier to see how ridiculous it all is.  Get some rest, nourish your body, and then do like Elijah and get back to work.  God may even have a chariot waiting for you someday.
 
Lord, they have killed Your prophets and torn down Your altars. I am the only one left, and they are trying to take my life! But what was God’s reply to him? I have left 7,000 men for Myself who have not bowed down to Baal. In the same way, then, there is also at the present time a remnant chosen by grace. (Rom 11:3-5)
 
Dene Ward

We were driving down the country highway to Bible study.  It became apparent when we crossed the county line that the mowers had been sent out to cut the grass on the right of way.  I suddenly thought of the increasing gas prices and asked Keith, “Is there a valid reason to mow the side of the road these days?”

              Turns out there is.  “It increases visibility for the ones pulling out of the driveways and lanes.”  Fewer accidents is certainly cost effective, not to mention the value of saved lives.  It also helps the ones already on the road to see the deer or the raccoons or the possums or the stray dogs standing at the side so they can be aware and slow down.  I never would have thought of that if I hadn’t asked.

              God obviously intended that we should ask why.  Remember those piles of stones taken from the bottom of the Jordan River? When your children ask in time to come, 'What do those stones mean to you?' then you shall tell them… Josh 4:6.

              I have been places where anyone who asked why was treated like either a troublemaker or a heretic.  It isn’t unscriptural to ask why.  In fact, the unscriptural thing is not to explain why.  God meant us to tell each generation why we do what we do.  He meant us to carefully explain his authority, his plan, and his promises.  Maybe some are trying to make trouble, but the remedy is the same as for those who are sincere—tell them why! 

              Do we want our children to carry on the plan of God in the next generation?  Do we want them to have the same hope that we do?  They cannot get to Heaven on our coattails.  They must have their own faith, a faith that comes by hearing the word of God, just as ours did.  Or did it?  Are we also carrying on practices we cannot prove are correct, only because that is what we’ve always done?  Have we mistaken traditions for laws, binding the commandments of men on others just as those we so often condemn?  If we don’t know the answers to why, we might be open to the same criticism.

              I have heard people ruin the opportunity when an interested soul asks why.  If a friend or neighbor asks why we do things that way in “our church,” we often jump on that phrase and explain, scoldingly, that the church belongs to Christ, and the poor questioner never does get an answer to his question.  Instead he feels attacked and never asks again. 

              More than once Keith has been addressed as “pastor” when a similar question was asked.  Imagine if he had simply spent the time pontificating about the correct Biblical meaning of “pastor” instead of answering the question.

              God always expected people to ask why. Check out these passages:  Ex 12:26; 13:14; Deut 6:20,21; Psa 78:3,4; Isa 38:19.  Even today he expects us to be able to answer the question, “Why?”  But sanctify in your hearts Christ as Lord: being ready always to give answer to every man that asks you a reason concerning the hope that is in you, yet with meekness and fear, 1Pe 3:15.

              Perhaps you should begin with this question:  Can I do that?  Can I give the “why” for my hope?  Peter gives you the answer if you just keep reading.  Let that be your project for the day.
 
Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person. Col 4:5-6.          
 
Dene Ward

 
"There is room in the kingdom of God, my brother for the small things that you can do; just a small, kindly deed that may cheer another is the work God has planned for you.
Just a cup of cold water in His name given, may the hope in some heart renew; do not wait to be told, nor by sorrow driven to the work God has planned for you.
There's a place in the service of God for workers who are loyal to Him and true; can't you say to Him now, "I will leave the shirkers, and the work Thou hast planned I'll do."
There is room in the kingdom, there's a place in the service, in the kingdom of God for you. There is room in the kingdom, there’s a place in His service, and there is a work that we all can do. "
--- J.R Baxter, Jr.

              I am going out on a limb with this one.  It could very well be just a coincidence, but I learned a long time ago that hymn writers often have a far better grasp of the scriptures than I do, especially things in the prophets.  So here goes.

              Look at the first line of the hymn above.  Do you see that phrase "the small things?"  We have a tendency to make judgments about how big or little things are, and therefore, how important they are.  We even talk about big and little sins, as if making ours less important will do anything but make it even more impossible to recognize the need to repent.  But the point of this hymn is the same point Paul made in 1 Corinthians 12—we are all important for what we can do, no matter how we may judge our abilities or the abilities of others.  Paul wasn't the first one to make that point.

              For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice, and shall see the plumb line in the hand of Zerubbabel...” (Zech 4:10).

              Maybe this isn't the passage the lyricist had in mind, but just maybe it is.  The exiles who returned from Babylon rapidly became discouraged as they built the new Temple.  Yes, they had opposition, but that wasn't all of it.  Some of the very old remembered the first Temple, the magnificent edifice Solomon built.  This feeble attempt to replace it didn't even come close. 

              ‘Who is left among you who saw this house in its former glory? How do you see it now? Is it not as nothing in your eyes? (Hag 2:3)

              But many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers' houses, old men who had seen the first house, wept with a loud voice when they saw the foundation of this house being laid, (Ezra 3:12).

              But God through Zechariah told them their judgment was faulty.  The small things lead the way to the larger, more glorious things.  Without the small things, you will never achieve the great things.  Ellicott says the "interrogative sentence is practically a prohibition:  'Let none despise the day of small things.'"

              Zechariah is full of Messianic passages.  The Temple they built in that time was obviously the precursor to the spiritual Temple the Messiah would build—Mt. Zion, the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, the general assembly and church of the firstborn, the kingdom "that cannot be shaken" (Heb 12:18-28).  But none of that would have happened if the small things hadn't been done first.

              And so today, in that glorious kingdom, if all we can do are "small things," let no one despise them.  God can make use of whatever meager attempts we make to serve.  One phone call, one kind word, one card in the mail, may keep a faltering soul from giving up.  One example set on a day when we are weary and wondering if it is all worth it, may be the example that sets someone else on the right path.  One meal when a mother is ill, one mended tear on a shut-in's blouse, one visit to a widow noticed by her wayward family member may be the impetus for the return of the prodigal.  It is not up to me to decide what service is too small and despise it by refusing to do it.  God is the judge, and he rejoices in the day of small things.
 
His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ (Matt 25:21)
 
Dene Ward

When I was a child I learned quickly that meeting with the saints was more important than anything else I might like to do at the given time.  My earliest memories of our faith are sitting in my mother’s lap while my Daddy led the singing, and then sitting on the front pew with him when my little sister came along and usurped my throne.  On Sunday and Wednesday we went to services.  Every night of every gospel meeting we went to services.  Every time the people of God met together, we met with them, and neither convenience, nor school functions, nor social gatherings of any kind got in the way.  As soon as we found out there was a conflict, there wasn’t one, because my parents taught us that nothing and no one was more important than God. 

              Nowadays it has become fashionable to not only dismiss the assemblies as unimportant, but to talk about anyone who thinks they are as “Sunday morning Christians” at best, and Pharisaical hypocrites at worst.  That was not true in my family.  In my house at least, the assemblies were object lessons:  if you won’t do this easy thing for the Lord, will you ever do anything more difficult? 

              My parents lived their lives the rest of the week as godly servants of others, visiting the sick, cooking and carrying food to those who needed it, showing hospitality, sending financial support to preachers in need, buying supplies for poor churches they had heard about, and keeping themselves pure from the worldliness that surrounded them, even when it made them unpopular with their extended family, neighbors, and co-workers.  And they also taught their children to follow in their steps, children who have now taught 9 grandchildren, beginning early on, that gathering with God’s people is important.  All the accountable ones are faithful Christians seven days a week.

              Do you think God’s people have ever thought that the assembly rituals were the only thing there was to their religion?  The Law of Moses was intricately bound up in the everyday lives of God’s people.  It wasn’t just “Remember the Sabbath to keep it holy,” and nothing else.  Sacrifices were required for various times in their lives, the birth of children, death in the family and other times of uncleanness, sin offerings, and thanksgiving other than the mandated feast days.  Harvest time meant remembering to leave the corners and the missed crop behind for the poor.  It meant time for tithing the increase.  The Law pervaded their lives and these things were done any and every day of the week. 

              Even in Jesus’ time the people led lives of worship.  The Pharisees fasted twice a week, not on the Sabbath but on Monday and Thursday, ordinary weekdays.  Jewish families lined the doors and walls of their houses with scriptures—the original post-it notes.  Their lives revolved around the feast days, which demanded making extensive travel plans and saving money for the trip all year long.  They had rabbis in their homes to ask them questions and hear them teach.  That’s how Jesus often wound up among them.  

              All these people worshipped throughout the week, but it wasn’t the instant cure for hypocrisy some seem to think, was it?  Many of those labeled hypocrites by the Lord looked down on others for not being as enlightened as they were.  Sort of like folks today who think they are better than anyone who dares utter the phrase “Sunday worship service.”

              Perhaps these people should get off their high horse and follow the Lord’s example.  Even if they don’t think the assemblies are important, Jesus did.  Where was the first place we find him seeing to “His Father’s business?”  He met with God’s people in the synagogues all the time, and synagogue worship was only a tradition, not something included in the Law.  He attended the feast days, including the one which was simply a civil holiday.  He taught the apostles to do the same.  Paul went to the synagogues expecting to find there the best prospects for the gospel—imagine that!  Too bad some of our more informed brethren couldn’t be there to teach him better.

              Of course Sunday morning isn’t all there is to it.  God never meant it to be, but don’t become an unrighteous judge of people who believe it is important.  That’s how a lot of us learned about serving God, not only by being there for the Bible study, but by putting it first over every other worldly thing in our lives, even if they weren’t sinful things.  Babes must crawl before they can run. 

               Hebrews commands us to consider one another to provoke one another to love and good works.  That’s what we do when we meet together.  It isn’t love to look on your brethren with contempt, and that’s what I am seeing in these prideful attitudes of instant dismissal when anyone speaks of our gatherings as “worship.” 

              Seems to me, someone needs to be provoked a little more.
             
Acts 1:13,14; 2:1; 2:42; 2:46; 6:1-3; 14:27; 20:7; 1 Cor 5:4; 11:17-28; all of chapter 14; Heb 10:23-25—the reasons we gather.  I will let you choose the one you think is most important.  Better yet—read them all.
 
Dene Ward

I am sure you have heard it too.  “God wouldn’t want me to be unhappy.”

              We have completely misunderstood the purpose of God when we think our happiness here has anything to do with it.  If it is possible, I believe he wants it so, but if it isn’t, if I have gotten myself into a fix that cannot be unraveled, if my being miserable in this life will accomplish his purpose, I know which matters more to him.  He is in the position to see the end, while I am stuck here seeing only the here and now and, far too often, neither learning from the past nor considering the future.  God knows what is best, and what is best is eternal salvation—the next life, not this one. 

              God has been saying this for thousands of years, but just like the ones who did not want to hear what Jesus had to say about his kingdom, we don’t want to hear what God has had to say about our physical lives. 

              Think of Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and others who suffered long and hard to accomplish their missions.  Think of Josiah who, because of his diligence in restoring the worship of Jehovah among his people, was given the reward of an early death—he would not have to see their punishment.  Think of John the Baptist who lived a short life precisely because God wanted it that way.  He had accomplished what was necessary—preaching repentance and preparing the people for the Messiah.  That mattered more than living a long, “happy” life.   He even came to realize it when he told his disciples, “He must increase and I must decrease.”  In this case, his “decrease” meant he had to be removed so the conflict, and even the jealousy, between his disciples and Jesus’ disciples would disappear.  Imagine what that would have done to God’s plan.  God used the machinations of a wicked woman to do it, but his purpose was accomplished, and John, the greatest ever born at the time (Matt 11:11), never had a normal “happy” life. 

              When did Paul say that David died?  Not after he got old and had lived a full life, but after “serving the purpose of the Lord,” Acts 13:36.  That’s what he was here for, and nothing else.  If you could talk to him now, I bet you he would say that the sorrows he bore were well worth it. 

              Paul makes a distinction between walking “in the flesh” and “according to the flesh,” 2 Cor 10:2,3.  He talks about people who make decisions “according to the flesh,” 1:17; he mentions those who live their entire lives not as people interested in their spiritual lives, but only in their physical lives, 1 Cor 3:1-3.  We may have to live as physical beings, but God expects us to keep our minds on the spiritual not the physical; on his purpose, not our selfish aims; on the eternal, not the temporal. 

              It is not my plans that matter.  Do I think that because I was only a Eunice I had no hand in the salvation of the souls Timothy’s preaching produced?  Do I think that because I was a Zebedee I had nothing to do with what my sons accomplished for the kingdom?  Those two people certainly fulfilled an important part of God’s plan.  To have tried to have been something other than they were because of their own selfish ambitions would have been to second guess God’s plan.

              Sometimes we don’t get what we want.  Sometimes God does want us to be unhappy in this life, if it means the salvation of souls.  Yes, he does mean for some to remain unmarried if they have ruined their chances for a scriptural marriage.  Yes, he does mean for some to remain in miserable marriages as long as possible.  Yes, he does mean for some to remain celibate if their “natural” tendency is to gravitate toward a sinful relationship.  Yes, he does mean for some to spend years of their lives paying society for their crimes even though they have repented.  Yes, he does mean for us to give up our life plans for the sake of his Eternal Plan.  Yes, he does mean for us to suffer illness and die, to be victims of accidents and calamities and perish, “for time and chance happen to all.”  If I think being happy in this life on this earth is the aim, I have missed the point of my existence altogether. 

              So whether or not I become blind in this life, whether you live long or die early, whether your marriage is good or bad, whether you feel fulfilled in your chosen occupation, none of those is the issue.  The question is, what can I do for God?  What can I do for others?  What can I do to ensure my own soul’s salvation?  Until I can accept God’s plan for me with joy, especially when it is something I do not want and had not planned on, I am not yet living the attitude “thy will be done.”
 
For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be Lord both of the dead and of the living, Rom 14:7-9.
 
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) out in the family room 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         

There has always been an "In Crowd".  I'm not sure exactly how it starts but by middle school—junior high in my day—it's in full bloom.  It doesn't stop there.  It continues into adulthood—in colleges, in neighborhoods, in work forces, anywhere people congregate.  Adults, mind you, who are still judging people by the same immature standards they did as children.  If you are different in any way from their "ideal," if you act differently—too quiet or too obvious—if you dress differently, if you are too intelligent or not intelligent enough, if you speak differently, and especially if you look different, if you have a health problem and especially if that problem makes your behavior, speech, or appearance different from others, you are not and never will be part of the In Crowd.  It's just another form of bigotry.

              And here is the saddest truth of all:  it even exists among the Lord's people.  When people began to follow Jesus in earnest, the scribes and Pharisees—the In Crowd of the day—said, "This multitude that does not know the law [like we do] is accursed" John 7:49.  It really had nothing to do with the Law, but everything to do with their traditions and the power they wanted to wield as the elite.  They had nothing but contempt for the people they were supposed to be leading.

              In their day it was a matter of status and power and wealth.  When Jesus' preaching ripped them to shreds and left the common people feeling the hope and joy of acceptance by God, he was signing his own death warrant.  When he ate with publicans, spoke to and accepted financing from women, taught Samaritans, healed lepers, the epileptic, and the demon-possessed, and forgave the vilest of sinners, he was announcing that he had no use for the superficiality of those who considered themselves God's gift to—well, God Himself.

              And it happens in the church too.  I've seen doctrinal matters decided not by scripture, but by who knows what Big Name Preacher, on which wealthier family believes what, or on who liked whose personality better—in short, on who was in the In Crowd.

              And just like in the world, it starts with the children.  If there was ever a group that should not have its share of "mean girls" (or boys), it's the disciples of a Lord who went out of his way to accept the ones who were outside looking in.  There's no excuse for us allowing our children to grow up thinking they can shun or ridicule someone who isn't "cool" or "pretty" or "fun," or who doesn't wear the latest styles, or like the coolest teen idols, or any other such shallow reason.  They will not outgrow it.  They will just turn into the adult version, just as shallow and sometimes just as mean.  Those adults will avoid speaking to and even do their best to avoid running into the ones who are not on the right list.  And those poor folks will sit alone at services, stand alone afterward, and, as a result, feel alone in the midst of a laughing and chattering crowd.

              You may not know it is happening.  Could I suggest that it might be because you are already in the In Crowd, too happy to even notice the others?  If we are to nip this in the bud, do this today:  Ask your child, "Is there anyone in your Bible class that you never talk to?  Anyone you will not sit next to?  Anyone you and your friends talk about and even laugh about?"  Then make sure they are telling you the truth.  (Joanne Beckley recently wrote a powerful post on how to tell if your child is lying to you.)  If they have sat in Bible classes long enough, they will know the right answers whether they are doing the right things or not.  But this is important and you need to make it clear to them.  If they are old enough to be baptized believers, tell them that such behavior is not following the steps of the Lord they claimed.  It is bigotry every bit as much as racism.  And it is not acceptable; it is sin.

              Then look at yourself and see if you are the one who taught them such behavior.

              When we persist in these things, we may be the ones who, on that last day, find ourselves on the outside looking in.
 
If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing well. But if you show partiality, you are committing sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. (Jas 2:8-9)

Dene Ward

When we lived in another state many years ago, we had two hydrangeas, one flanking each side of the patio steps.  I loved those plants.  They took little care and for that meager effort produced huge balls of blue blooms all summer.  So I decided a few years ago to plant a couple here.

            I understand that there are white hydrangeas that are supposed to be that way.  They are often used in weddings, which seems appropriate and lovely.  But most hydrangeas are not supposed to be white.  Instead, the color of their blooms depends upon the pH of the soil.  If there is plenty of aluminum in the soil, you get blue blooms.  If aluminum is lacking, you usually get pink. 

            If you do not get the color you want, you can change it yourself.  Mix one tablespoon of aluminum sulfate per gallon of water and use it during the growing season.  (Be sure the plant is well-watered beforehand or you could burn your plants.)  If you prefer pink blooms, use dolomite.  I really don’t care if I get pink instead of blue, but I did not want white.  White is what I got.

            Some people can’t seem to make up their minds about serving God.   They show up on Sunday morning, but you would never know it if you saw them the rest of the week.  Their dress, language, recreation, and opinions match the world around them.  Like God’s people of old, they “fear the Lord, but serve other gods,” 2 Kings 17:21.  Instead of being either pink or blue, they try to be neutral, thinking it will help them get along with both sides.

            Jesus addressed their descendants in Matt 6:24—“You cannot serve two masters,” something we often try to do ourselves, giving our time and energy to the material and only the leftovers, if there are any, to the spiritual.  That is why our prayers are often useless.  We know we aren’t pink or blue, so we pray with “doubt,” like the “double-minded man, unstable in all his ways,” James 1:6-8.

            That wasn’t the end of passages I could find.  “How long will you go limping between two sides?” Elijah asked in 1 Kgs 18:12.  “Choose this day whom you will serve,” Joshua demanded, 24:15.  The Lord doesn’t want white hydrangeas any more than I do.  He wants people who can make a decision and stand by it, people who care enough to go all out, not just dabble.  We cannot be wishy-washy.  “If you aren’t with me you are against me,” he told the disciples, Luke 11:23. 

            One of my hydrangeas has finally developed a light blue tint.  Then I got my acid and alkaline colors mixed up and had Keith put hydrated lime on it.  So tomorrow it may turn pink.  But it really doesn’t matter—one or the other, pink or blue, just not white.  I didn’t plant it to get some neutral color, and that isn’t why God put us where He did either.
 
I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth. Rev 3:15-16
 
Dene Ward