Marvel Comics was founded by Martin Goodman in 1939.  Its first publication in October of that year featured an android superhero called the Human Torch and a mutant anti-hero called Namor the Sub-Mariner.  In March 1941 they introduced Captain America.  But after the Depression and the war years, comic books went out of fashion.  It took Stan Lee about 15 years later to breathe new life into them.

              On November 1, 1961, Marvel introduced the Fantastic Four.  Other heroes followed in rapid succession.  These superheroes were more like real people. They complained and argued among themselves.  They were moody.  Many were freaks or misfits, and some resembled monsters more than heroes—can you say Incredible Hulk?  Spider-Man's world was a dark one; Dr Strange's was bizarre.  They were victims of accidents and injuries that gave them their superpowers, or they were born with a deformity of some sort.  The comics tried to make their superheroes approachable.  Funny how we make the heroes of the Bible just the opposite. 

             Sometimes you read a passage of scripture for years without seeing what it really says.  I suppose it was only seven or eight years ago that I really saw Gen 21:11.  Sarah had had enough of Hagar’s attitude, and Ishmael she viewed as nothing but a competitor to Isaac.  She wanted to send them both away.  And the thing was grievous in the sight of Abraham because of his son. 

              “…because of his son.”  For the first time ever it dawned on me that Abraham loved Ishmael.  Of course he did.  This was his son!  In fact, when God backed up Sarah’s wish with a command of his own, he said, Let it not be grievous in your sight because of the lad and because of your handmaid, v 22.  Hagar had been his wife, (16:3) for eighteen to twenty years, depending upon Isaac’s age of weaning.  A relationship had to be broken, two in fact. 

              Now look at Abraham as he sends the two of them away, particularly his oldest son.  Do you have a child?  Can you imagine knowing you will never see that child again, and how it must have felt as Abraham saw their departing figures recede into the heat waves of the Palestinian landscape? 

              Too many times we look at Bible people with our “super hero glasses” on.  We fail to see them as real people with real emotions.  Of course they could do as God asked.  They were “heroes of faith.”  When we do that, we insult them.  We demean the effort it took for them to do what was right.  We diminish the sacrifices they made and the pain they went through.  And we lessen the example they set for us.

              That may be the worst thing we do.  By looking at them as if they were “super” in any way at all, we remove the encouragement to persevere that we could have gained.  “There is no way I could do that.  I am not as strong as they were.  I’m not a Bible super hero.”  If you aren’t, it’s only because you choose not to be. 

             Those people were just like you.  They had strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures.  They had problems with family, with temptations, and with fear of the unknown.  You have everything to work with that they did. In fact, you have one thing the Old Testament people didn’t have—a Savior who came and took on the same human weaknesses we all have (Heb 2:17; 4:15), yet still showed the way.  For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps, 1 Pet 2:21.  If you belittle the accomplishments of those people as impossible for you to copy, you belittle His too.

              Take off the glasses that distort your view.  Instead, see clearly the models of faith and virtue God has set before us as real people, warts and all.  They weren’t perfect, but they managed to endure.  Seeing them any other way is just an excuse not to be as good as we can be.
 
Brethren, be imitators together of me, and mark them that so walk even as you have us for an ensample, Phil 3:17.
 
Dene Ward

When Silas came to visit, shortly before his third birthday, Chloe scared him to death.  What did she do?  Nothing.  Our sweet-faced red heeler simply existed and Silas wasn’t too keen on being in the same yard with her, not even a five acre yard.

              Then he discovered that Chloe was even more afraid of him.  She would cautiously creep out from under the porch when we all went outside, but always made sure I was between her and that frightening little human.  What had Silas done to her?  Nothing.  He couldn’t get close enough to do anything to her. 

              When he finally understood, he thoroughly enjoyed his time outdoors.  He picked flowers for his mommy.  He loaded the bird feeder.  He looked for big hunks of bark that had fallen off the sycamore, broke them into three pieces—one for granddad, one for grandma, and one for himself—and led a countdown: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1—whee!—at which point we all threw our hunks of paper-thin bark into the air, over and over and over until there wasn’t a piece of bark bigger than a quarter to be found anywhere.

              Then he walked around to the side of the house and found the two old bathtubs Keith soaks his smoker wood in.  “Oh!” he cried.  “A pool!”

              First, he simply stood there splashing the water.  Then he eyed an old coffee can and some plastic flower pots, and began dipping into the tub and pouring the water back in and, in the process, all over himself. 

              Then he eyed Chloe, the dog that no longer scared him.  You could almost see the wheels turning.  He dipped again into the tub and sat the can on its edge.  “Chlo-eeeee,” he called in a singsong voice.  “I have something fooooooor yooooooooou.”  He picked up the can and headed straight for the dog, sloshing water with every step.

              I knew exactly what he was going to do, and so did Chloe.  She took off running.

              Funny how one simple piece of knowledge was so empowering.  When Silas learned that Chloe was so afraid of him, he was no longer afraid of her.  But it isn’t just the knowing; it’s the believing.

              How many times do we fail because we simply don’t believe what we’ve been promised?

              With every temptation there is a way of escape, 1 Cor 10:13.  We are equipped with armor that will enable us to stand against the Devil, Eph 6:11-20.  We are guarded by the power of God unto a salvation that is ready and waiting, 1 Pet 1:5.  Our faith stands in the power of God, 1 Cor 2:5.  We are supported in our afflictions by the power of God, 2 Cor 6:7.  His power works in us, and we are strengthened by it, the same power that raised Christ from the dead, Eph 3:16,20.

              Do you think Satan isn’t afraid of you?  The devils believe also, and tremble, James says, 2:19.  Since it is Christ’s power that rests on you and not your own, 2 Cor 12:9, what makes you think you aren’t a fearsome entity as well?  The only thing that would hinder it is disbelief in the promises of God.

              Our weapons are mighty, 2 Cor 10:4,5, far more so than a bucket of water in the hand of a toddler, and we should be ready and willing to use them.  Yes, we should face the devil with care, just as we would a rattlesnake, but his fate is already sealed.  All we have to do is believe it.
 
…we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. Colossians 1:9-12
 
Dene Ward

Charles Edward Coughlin was one of the first to broadcast religious programming over the radio, beginning in 1925.  He eventually had up to thirty million listeners in the 1930s.  He was a Roman Catholic priest, but his programs were more about politics than religion.  He began with a series of attacks on socialism and Soviet communism and moved on to American capitalism.  He even helped found a political party—the Union Party.  Finally, due to some not-so-latent anti-Semitism, he was forced off the air, announcing it in his final program on September 23, 1939.

              Others have stuck with religion and fared much better, Vernon McGee, Oral Roberts, and Billy Graham among them.  Many went on to television, but for a couple of generations, a lot of folks got their weekly dose of religion from the hump-backed radio they carefully tuned in amid high-pitched whistles and static.

         When I was young, radio evangelists were fond of ending their broadcasts with the directive to “put your hand on the radio and just believe.”  That was supposed to instantly transform the person who did nothing but sit in his recliner with a cup of coffee (or a can of beer?) into a Christian, a true believer, a person of “faith.” 

              Most mainstream denominational theologians believe in this doctrine of “mental assent.”  Faith is nothing more than believing, no action required.  Surely that must be one of those things spawned by the itching ears of listeners who wanted nothing required of them.  Just look at a few scriptures with me.

              For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love. Galatians 5:6.  What was that?  “Faith working…?”  Faith isn’t supposed to “work,” or so everyone says.  Did you know that Greek word is energeo?  Can you see it?  That’s the word we get “energy” and “energetic” from.  I don’t remember seeing too many energetic people sitting in their recliners.

              Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, Philippians 1:27.  Striving for the faith?  Even in English “striving” implies effort.  In fact, the Greek word is sunathleo.  Ask any “athlete” if mental assent will help him win a gold medal or a Super Bowl ring and you’ll hear him laughing a mile away.

              Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all, Philippians 2:17, ESV.  Now that can’t be right.  Everyone knows faith has nothing to do with outward observances of the law like sacrifices.  Well, how about this translation?  The ASV says “service of faith.”  Anyway you look at it, whether sacrifice or service, it requires some sort of action on our parts.

              Fight the good fight of faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses,1 Timothy 6:12.  Faith is a “fight.”  That Greek word is agon from which we get our word “agony.”  If you are a crossword puzzler, you know that an agon was a public fight in the Roman arena.  Anyone who did nothing but sit there, with or without a recliner, didn’t last long.

              To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ. 2 Thessalonians 1:11-12.  And there you have it in black and white:  “work of faith.” 

              Nope, some say, the trouble is you keep quoting these men.  Jesus never said any such thing.  Jesus answered them, This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent, John 6:29.  If faith itself is a work, how can we divorce the works it does from it? 

              We do have examples of mental assent in the scriptures, three that I could find easily. 

              You believe that God is one; you do well: the demons also believe, and shudder. James 2:19

              But certain also of the strolling Jews, exorcists, took upon them to name over them that had the evil spirits the name of the Lord Jesus, saying, I adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preaches. And there were seven sons of one Sceva, a Jew, a chief priest, who did this. And the evil spirit answered and said unto them, Jesus I know, and Paul I know, but who are you? Acts 19:13-15

              Those first two examples are powerful.  The devil and his minions believe in the existence of God and the deity of Jesus.  In fact, they know those things for a fact.  They even, please notice, recognize Paul as one of the Lord’s ministers.  So much for not paying attention to his or any other apostle’s writings.  Then there is this one:

              Nevertheless, many even of the authorities believed in him, but for fear of the Pharisees they did not confess it, so that they would not be put out of the synagogue; John 12:42.  Those men believed too.  They would have been thrilled to know they could put their hands on something in the privacy of their homes and “just believe.”  They could have had their cake and eaten it too—become followers without actually following.

              And therein lies the crux of the matter.  It’s easy to sit in your recliner and listen.  It’s too hard to work, to strive, to sacrifice and serve, and way too hard to fight until you experience the agony of rejection, tribulation, and persecution.

              Guess what?  Some of us believe this too.  We just substitute the pew for the recliner.  It doesn’t work that way either.  God wants us up and on our feet, working, serving, sacrificing and fighting till the end, whenever and however that may happen.
 
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 Corinthians 13:5
 
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

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

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

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

              "What's going on, Ethel?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dene Ward

Joseph Lodge opened his first foundry in South Pittsburg, Tennessee in 1896, naming it after a friend:  The Blacklock Foundry.  In May 1910 it burned to the ground, but he opened again a few blocks south with an initial filing date as a For Profit Corporation on August 19, 1910, naming it the Lodge Manufacturing Company.  It has been going strong for over 100 years, and my own skillet came from that company.

            I grew up watching my mother use her cast iron skillet.  She fried chicken, hamburgers, eggs, country fried steak, pork chops, and hash in it.  I suppose I began with grilled cheese sandwiches, something I still love but have to limit now.  Some days, though, a crisp on the outside, gooey on the inside, hot all over, buttered pair of bread slices (usually multi-grain in a nod to health) is the only thing that will satisfy.

              When I received my own cast iron skillet as a wedding present I was confused.  My mother’s was deep black, smooth and shiny.  This thing was the same shape, the same heft, but gray, dull, and rough.  “You have to season it,” she told me, and even though I followed the directions exactly, greasing and heating it over and over and over, it was probably ten years before my skillet finally began to look like hers.  Seasoning cannot be done quickly, no matter what they say, and in the early stages can be undone with a moment’s carelessness—like scrubbing it in a sink full of hot soapy water.  A good skillet is never scrubbed, never even wet, but simply wiped out, a thin patina of oil left on the surface.             

              Faith is a little like a cast iron skillet—it has to be seasoned.  Let me explain.

              In the middle of some study a few weeks ago I made a discovery that made me laugh out loud.  “…the churches were strengthened in the faith,” we are told in Acts 16:5.  I am not a Greek scholar, but sometimes just looking at a word gives you a clue.  The word translated “strengthened” is stereoo.  “Stereo?” I thought, automatically anglicizing it, and a moment later got the point.  Faith may begin as “mono”—undoubtedly the Philippian jailor who believed and was baptized “in the same hour of the night” had a one dimensional faith.  He hadn’t had time to develop beyond the point of “I believe that Jesus is the Son of God,” but I imagine after awhile he had seasoned his faith with layer after layer of growth.  It had become a “stereo” faith.

              Think about it.  The Abraham who left Ur at the word of God, giving up far more than we usually realize in worldly goods and prominence, was not the same Abraham who offered his son over forty years later.  That first Abraham was still so timid he would willingly deceive people about the woman traveling with him.  Yet God did not give up on him, and he did not give up on God.  He grew, adding layer after layer to a faith that eventually made him the father of the faithful.

              The Peter who tried to walk on water may have shortly thereafter confessed Christ, but he wasn’t the same Peter who sat in Herod’s prison in Acts 12, and he certainly wasn’t the same Peter who ultimately lost his life for his Lord.  He used all the earlier experiences to season a faith that endured to the end.

              It isn’t that God is not satisfied with the faith we have at any given moment, but He does expect us to grow, to season that faith with years of endurance and service.  Seasoning takes heat, and the heat of affliction may be the thing that seasons us.  We never know what may be required, but God expects us to keep adding those layers, to get beyond the “mono” faith to a “stereo” faith, a multi-faceted, deeply layered condition, not just a little saying we repeat when we want to prove we are Christians.

              How does your skillet look today?  Is it still gray and rough, or have you taken the time to season it with prayer and study, enduring the heat of toil and affliction, and turned it into an indispensable tool, one you use everyday to feed and strengthen your soul?
 
For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me! Job 19:25-27
 
Dene Ward

Man has been using tents since the dawn of civilization.  The oldest one found was in Moldava, a mammoth skin draped around mammoth bones.  Mammoth—that's the Ice Age, people.

             How did they make those ancient tents waterproof?  With animal fat, which made for a very stinky domicile.  Teepees and yurts were the next phase, and they were still stinky.  Finally nylon was invented in the 1930s and that became the material of choice for a long time.

              You can find all sorts of patents on tents, each claiming to be the next big step in comfort, ease in assembly, portability, size, whatever it is you want.  For this topic I chose the patent that was published on August 4, 1959 because of this phrase:  the said tent was "quite capable of standing up to any weather even without anchoring or reinforcement."  Remember that for a few minutes.

              Our first tent was a Camel dome.  The box said 10 x 12, which I never really understood since it was a hexagon.  It said “sleeps 6” so we thought two adults and two small children would fit just fine.  We learned to look at the fine print.  A diagram did indeed show six sleeping bags fitting in the tent floor—like sardines in a can, and the sleeping bags like mummy wrappings.  The only place even I could stand up straight was the direct center of the tent, where you could never stand because of the sleeping bags covering the floor, so you always stood bent over.

              Before long, the boys received a smaller dome as a gift and Keith and I had the larger one to ourselves.  Now that we are alone, and camp “in style” as our boys accuse, we have a 16 x 10.  A queen-size air mattress fits nicely and we can still stand up in more than one place inside.

              But tents are not houses.  The paper-thin walls mean you hear your neighbors all too well, and they would be absolutely no protection from wild animals.  So far we have only had to deal with raccoons, but if a bear came along we might be in trouble.

              Those walls also mean that in cold weather you are going to be cold too.  We have learned that with a waterproof rainfly overhead, we can plug in a small space heater and raise the temperature as much as 15 degrees inside—but when the temperature outside is 30, that’s not a lot of relief.

              Usually our tents are dry, but on our last trip we were suddenly leaking.  When we got home we found out why.  The seam sealer tape had come loose.  Rainwater simply rolled down the fly till it found a place where the tape hung unfastened.  Then it dripped through--on the floor, on the boxes we were trying to keep dry, and on our bed.  So much for "standing up to any weather," as that 1959 patent claimed.  As comfortable and advanced as they make them these days, there is no confusing a tent with a house.

              The Bible has a whole lot to say about tents.  Abraham and Sarah were called away from a comfortable home in a large city to live in tents for the rest of their lives.  Though God promised them their descendants would someday own that land, they never owned one acre of it.  But one of the tests of their faith was those very tents they lived in.  Did they really believe God enough to stay in them?  Yes, they did, the Hebrew writer makes it plain.  They understood perfectly the temporary nature of those tents and the promise they stood for, Heb 11:8-16.

              The Israelites lived in tents for 40 years.  Their tents were punishment for a lack of faith. Yet even after they finally received their Promised Land, God insisted they remember those tents during the harvest feasts, to remind them who had given them the land and the bounty it produced, Lev 23:42,43.  But the people refused, until once again they were punished for refusing to rely on God. That feast was not observed until the return from captivity.  And all the assembly of those who had returned from the captivity made booths and lived in the booths, for from the days of Jeshua the son of Nun to that day the people of Israel had not done so. And there was very great rejoicing. Neh 8:17. 

              Paul calls our bodies tents in 1 Cor 15.  As amazing as the human body is because of its Creator, it is still a fragile thing compared to the immortal body we hope to receive.  We are often too wrapped up in the physical life those tents represent to remember that.  It seems like a long life.  It seems like everything that happens here is important.  It even seems like we can take care of ourselves.  WE make the living that feeds us and houses us and clothes these bodies.  We live on the retirement WE have carefully put away for the future.  Just like Israel we forget who really supplies our needs. 

              On several occasions I have wakened in the middle of the night on a camping trip to a storm blowing outside.  The wind billows the sides of the tent and the rain pours as if someone had upended huge buckets over our heads.  The lightning flashes and you suddenly wish you hadn’t so carefully chosen the shady spot under the big tree. 

              Once, in the middle of one of those storms, I suddenly heard a loud crack followed by a WHUMP!  The next morning, we crawled out of the tent and saw a huge limb lying on the ground about thirty feet away.  If that limb had fallen on our tent, we might not have survived it.  A tent would certainly not have stopped its fall.

              What are you trusting in today, the feeble tents of this life, or the house that God will give you?  A mortal body that, no matter how diligently you care for it, will eventually decay, or a celestial body that will last for eternity?  The things that "tent" can do for you, or the protection that God’s house provides?  From the beginning, God has meant a tent to symbolize instability and transience.  He has always meant us to trust him to someday supply us with a permanent home, one we will share with him.  Tents, even the Tabernacle itself, have always symbolized a glorious promise.

              Don’t choose a tent when God has something so much better waiting for you.
 
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, 2 Cor 5:1.\
 
Dene Ward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

              The above sentence is not the official motto of the United States Postal Service.  Yes, it does appear on the James A. Farley Building—the New York City Post Office—in Manhattan.  But the line came from Book 8 of The Persian Wars by the Greek historian Herodotus.  The Persians had created something similar to our Pony Express and it was said that a message could go from one side of the empire to the other—roughly India to Greece and Egypt—in a week's time.  The architect for the New York Post Office Building was the son of a Greek scholar.  He read Greek just for fun, and he was the one who decided to have the line placed on that particular post office.

              Still, it was the line I thought of that December of 1989 when we had ice on the roads and an inch of sticking snow on the ground—here in north Florida!  That particular Saturday we tromped through the white stuff to the highway where our mailboxes were all lined up to save the letter carrier some time.  While we waited, my three guys got a kick out of running down the road then stopping and sliding as much as ten or fifteen feet on the icy patch in the middle of it.  It was a cold, gray day, never rising above 30 as I recall and the sun never peeking through for an instant.  Our lightweight jackets, by Northern standards, barely kept us warm.  Finally we gave up and went back home, freezing feet, runny red noses, chapped hands and all.  The mail never did run that day.  So much for "Neither snow…"

              As I was doing all this research on the "motto," I came across another interesting tidbit.  During the Cold War of the 80s, the public was understandably worried.  People believed that nuclear war would destroy the world as we know it, that it was not survivable at all.  They were probably correct, but the administration of the time did their best to dispel that idea. 

              Nuclear war is not nearly as devastating as Americans have been led to believe, said Thomas K Jones, Deputy-Undersecretary of Defense for Research and Engineering.  To that end, the Federal Civil Defense Administration began their campaign to show people how to survive the Bomb.  They created scenarios for ways they would care for "all the survivors," tacitly promising that there would be a great many of them.  Two of their more ridiculous promises were:
1) Nuclear war would not prevent checks from clearing banks—including those drawn on destroyed banks—or their credit cards from being accepted. 
And, the one we are most interested in,
2) Postal employees would be moved to remote areas in order to maintain service.  They would have in reserve millions of emergency change-of-address forms, including a line to complete if the recipient were dead.  Imagine that.

              Most people who are aware of this inanity know it like this:  On July 12, 1983, FEMA promised that survivors of a nuclear war would still get their mail!  (If you want to read more on this, look up "Thinking the Unthinkable" by Professor Jon Timothy Kelly, Ph. D., West Valley College.  The original paper should pop up.)

              Talk about outrageous promises.  But understand this, that is exactly what many of your friends and neighbors think about you and your faith in God's promises.  What they do not understand, and simply will not see, is all the evidence we have of God keeping His promises for millennia. 

              Abraham waited twenty-five years before he began to see even a shadow of the promises God had made come true in the birth of Isaac.  His descendants waited another 430 years before they received the land.  The Jewish nation waited another millennium and a half for the Messiah, and are waiting still, while we enjoy being in his kingdom and under his watchful care and leadership. 

             Then there are the many instances of fulfilled prophecy.  Nation after nation came and went as God said they would, again and again.  "The most High rules in the kingdoms of men," Daniel says four times, and then proves it.
But those are only the big promises.  God makes us promises every day—and keeps them.  If we don't see them, we simply do not want to.

              No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. (1Cor 10:13)

              Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name…Therefore let those who suffer according to God's will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good. (1Pet 4:16-19)

              Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” So we can confidently say, “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?” (Heb 13:5-6)

              For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom 8:38-39)

              But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2Cor 12:9-10)

              I could keep going, but do you know what the problem is?  We don't like the things these promises imply.  In order to receive these promises we have to suffer for His name's sake.  We must be tempted, we must endure hardships, we must be content with a life that may not be what we had imagined, especially in this wealthy country.  We must be willing to be persecuted.  We must face tragedies.  That is when we see His promises come true.

             I no longer have absolute faith in the postal system—I saw it fail that December of 89.  But I have never seen my God fail me in a lifetime of ups and downs, good and bad, happiness and sorrow.  My neighbors have sometimes failed me.  My government has failed me.  Even my brethren have failed me.  But never God. 

            Maturity has helped me see that.  A growth in spirituality has made it easier.  Knowledge of the Word has been the greatest help.  You will never understand His help, nor will you even recognize it, until you learn about Him and how He works, until you become more like Him and see things as He does—not in a carnal way, but in a spiritual way. 

            For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised. For, “Yet a little while, and the coming one will come and will not delay; ​but my righteous one shall live by faith, and if he shrinks back, my soul has no pleasure in him.” (Heb 10:36-38)

            God has yet more promises waiting for you.  Nothing will stop Him from delivering them.
 
In hope of eternal life, which God, who never lies, promised before the ages began (Titus 1:2)
 
Dene Ward