“I saw in the night, and behold, a man riding on a red horse! He was standing among the myrtle trees in the glen, and behind him were red, sorrel, and white horses.  Then I said, ‘What are these, my lord?’ The angel who talked with me said to me, ‘I will show you what they are.’ So the man who was standing among the myrtle trees answered, ‘These are they whom the LORD has sent to patrol the earth.’ And they answered the angel of the LORD who was standing among the myrtle trees, and said, ‘We have patrolled the earth, and behold, all the earth remains at rest.’ Then the angel of the LORD said, ‘O LORD of hosts, how long will you have no mercy on Jerusalem and the cities of Judah, against which you have been angry these seventy years?’ And the LORD answered gracious and comforting words to the angel who talked with me. So the angel who talked with me said to me, ‘Cry out, Thus says the LORD of hosts: I am exceedingly jealous for Jerusalem and for Zion. And I am exceedingly angry with the nations that are at ease; for while I was angry but a little, they furthered the disaster. Therefore, thus says the LORD, I have returned to Jerusalem with mercy; my house shall be built in it, declares the LORD of hosts, and the measuring line shall be stretched out over Jerusalem. Cry out again, Thus says the LORD of hosts: My cities shall again overflow with prosperity, and the LORD will again comfort Zion and again choose Jerusalem.’”  (Zech 1:8-17)
            First of all, don't get hung up on the horse colors.  They are not rainbow colors, but ordinary horse colors.  Just as we might call a dog a "yellow lab" when he really isn't canary yellow, we can call a horse "red" when the actual designation might be roan.  The thing that matters here is the number—four, as in "the four corners of the earth."  And the point is not that God sent actual horses out to patrol the whole earth and report back to him—though that is exactly what the vision pictures—but that God knows what is happening everywhere.
            Do not worry, Zechariah tells the people, God is aware of your problems.  In fact, he knows that your enemies are "at ease" and that their ease has worsened your problems.  He is angry with them, even more than He was before this, and He will take care of His people. 
            Does He tell them when?  No.  Does He tell them how?  No.  At some point, they have to show some faith, some trust, and just keep on serving, allowing God to take care of the things they cannot in His own time.
            That vision is just as applicable to us today as it was 2500 years ago.  God knows what we are going through.  He is constantly "on patrol."  He sees our struggles and our pain, and He will not forget who has caused it all—Satan and his angels.  Sin has polluted our world.  As Christians, we are no longer its captives (Rom 6:18), but we still live in a world that is under its influence.  We must continue to trust God, to believe in His ultimate promises, and prove our faith by our service.
            "The Lord will again comfort Zion and again choose Jerusalem" Zech 1:17.  Maybe it will help to understand that God's people today, the church, the kingdom of his Son, is called Mt Zion and the new Jerusalem in Heb 12:22-29.  God will choose us.  Do we know when?  No.  Do we know how? Yes! 
            For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words. (1Thess 4:16-18)
            Let this night vision encourage you, too.
 
The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry. ​The face of the LORD is against those who do evil, to cut off the memory of them from the earth. ​When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. (Ps 34:15-18)
 
Dene Ward

So many Marys in the Bible.  If you were not aware, Mary in the New Testament is the Aramaic equivalent of Miriam in the Old.  That might explain why we see the name so often, not only in the gospels, but at least once in the epistles, too (Rom 16:6).  Mary Magdalene, Mary the wife of Cleopas (and mother of James the Less and Joses), and even Jesus' mother herself, were all Galilean women.  (Luke 8 along with a few cross references bear that out.)   Everyone knows Mary of Bethany, who lived a couple miles outside of Jerusalem.  But, though I am sure there were many in the general population, only one Mary who is mentioned in the Bible lived in Jerusalem.  She is John Mark's mother, and a relative of Barnabas, by marriage if not by blood (Col 4:10).
            When [Peter, who had just been released from prison by an angel] realized this, he went to the house of Mary, the mother of John whose other name was Mark, where many were gathered together and were praying (Acts 12:12).
            Unlike many of the women we have been studying, Mary seems to have been well off.  Somehow she is related to Barnabas who we know was wealthy enough to sell some property and donate the proceeds to help feed and house the needy of the newly formed church (Acts 4:36,37).  Mary in turn had a home large enough for many in the church to meet in to pray for Peter after James had been martyred.  The church was no longer 10,000 men strong because it had scattered in Acts 8, but it was undoubtedly still a good sized congregation of God's people.  Her home also seemed to be a short walk from the prison and easy to find, even in the middle of the night.
            The church was not just praying for Peter, I am sure.  If he and James could be swept off the streets at Herod's behest and killed without remorse, any of them could.  They did not even answer the door.  They sent poor little Rhoda to answer a door that seems to have been locked.  After all, wouldn't that seem more normal, for the maid to answer the door?  Perhaps she could even turn away whoever it was without suspicion.  But I am also sure that a group that large could not have assembled without the neighbors knowing something was going on.  What if one of them turned them in?  In fact, that class of people might have been the most likely to have turned them in—Sadducees and priests were the wealthiest class.
            But Mary opens her doors to her brothers and sisters so they will have somewhere relatively private to commune and pray during a terrifying crisis.  Would any of us do that?  Would we have allowed a line of parked cars up and down the street that practically screams, "Here we are!  Come and get us!"  The more I read about these people, the more inadequate I feel.  We need to learn these lessons now, folks.  The world out there is rapidly becoming hostile to Christianity.  We are now the bad guys.  No matter how many good deeds we may do, we will still be turned in, just as some of the people who survived the plague in the second century because of the care of their Christian neighbors turned them in.  But a few did convert.  And that can always be our hope and motivation.
            And that is what the Lord expects of us.  We have had it too easy for too long.  It's time to get tough, to realize what we may soon be up against and to prepare ourselves, and our children!  We will need a Mary, and a Lydia, and a Priscilla, and a Dorcas, and people like those other early Christians who gave it all for the Lord.  Let's hope we are tough enough to do it.
 
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go (Josh 1:9).
 
Dene Ward

Have you discovered panko yet?  Panko is Japanese bread crumbs, an extra light variety that cooks up super-crunchy on things like crab cakes and shrimp.  They also cost more than regular bread crumbs, but in certain applications they are worth it.    On the other hand a chicken or veal Milanese needs a sturdier crumb to stand up to the lemony butter sauce, an oven fried pork chop needs melba toast crumbs that will cook to a crunch without burning in a high heat oven, and my favorite broccoli casserole needs the faint sweetness of a butter cracker crumb to really set it off.
            Although none of these dishes are the food of poverty, using the crumbs and crusts of food rather than tossing them out certainly grew out of the necessity of using whatever was at hand to feed hungry bellies for thousands of years, and now we all do it, even when there is plenty in the pantry.  Pies and cheesecakes with graham cracker crumb crusts, anyone?  Dressing to stuff your poultry?  Bread pudding on a cold winter night?  Streusel on that warm coffee cake in the morning?  Bread-infused peasant food has even shown up on gourmet cooking shows in the form of panzanella (salad) and ribolita (soup), both of which use chunks of stale bread to bolster their ability to satisfy appetites.
            That reminds me of a woman 2000 years ago who understood the value of leftovers.  Her little daughter was demon-possessed, so ill she could not travel, but her mother had heard of someone who might be able to help, who even then was in hiding from the crowds on the border of her country.  It took a lot for her to seek him out, first leaving her sick child in someone else’s care, then approaching this Jewish rabbi, a type who had either reviled or ignored her all her life; but a desperate mother will make any sacrifice to save her child.
            Sure enough, even though she addressed him by the Messianic title, “Son of David,” he answered her not a word, Matt 15:22,23.  Still she persisted, and this time she was insulted—he called her a dog.  Oh, he was nicer about it than most, using the Greek word for “little pet dog,” kunarion, rather than the epithet she usually heard from his kind--kuno, ownerless scavenging dogs that run wild in the streets, but still he made her inequality in his eyes obvious.
            This woman, though, was ready to accept his judgment of her, Even the dogs get the crumbs, sir.  Moreover, she understood that was all she needed.  This man, whose abilities she had heard of from afar, was more than just a man, and even the tiniest morsel of his power was enough to heal her child, even from a distance.
            Do we understand that?  Do we realize that one drop of God’s power can fix any problem we have, and more, do we have the humility to accept our place in His plan, even if it is not what we have planned?  Yes, every day I ask for more—more grace, more faith, more of His power to change me and use me, but do I really comprehend His strength?  I would say it was impossible to do so, except for the example of this desperate Gentile mother who, like a widow of her nation hundreds of years before her, had more faith, trust, and humility than the religious men of God’s chosen people (I Kgs 17, Luke 4:25,26).
            And for this, perhaps, God chose her to foreshadow in the Son’s life the crumbling of the barrier between Jew and Gentile, and the inclusive nature of the gospel which had been foretold from the beginning: in thy seed shall all nations of the earth be blessed, Gen 22:17. 
            Do I have the faith and humility to accept God’s plan for me?  One thing is certain—this Gentile mother knew she had nowhere else to turn, and neither do we.
            Even God’s crumbs are enough to satisfy our every need.
 
For this cause I bow my knees to the Father…that you…may be strong to apprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God…him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think…Eph 3:14, 17-20.
 
Dene Ward

If you were like me as a child, you learned quickly that you do not talk back to your parents.  You don't argue, you don't make sarcastic comments, you don't mock, you certainly don't say, "NO," when you are told to do something.  I tried it once and never did it again.
            I think that's one application of the passage in Habakkuk:  But Jehovah is in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him. (Hab 2:20).  God had just pronounced a judgment that Habakkuk did not think was fair.  He asked God how he could allow a nation even more wicked than Judah to destroy them.  While God was willing to answer Habakkuk, the prophet knew there was no sense arguing.  The Creator of all the universe had made his decision.  "Let all the earth keep silence before Him."  No talking back.
            Sometimes God makes decisions about the things we pray for that we do not understand.  No matter how hard we try, it simply makes no sense to us.  Perhaps we are thinking too highly of ourselves and our ability to know what is best, even though we are stuck here in time on a physical earth, unable to see the larger ramifications.  It is up to us to do as Habakkuk did and accept an Almighty God's decision with the reverent attitude, "Thy will be done," and mean it.
            But there is another aspect to this silence.  Habakkuk contrasts our approach to God with the approach idolaters take--must take—in order to gain their god's attention—and even then it doesn't work.  Woe unto him who says to the wood, Awake; to the dumb stone, Arise! Shall this teach? Behold, it is overlaid with gold and silver, and there is no breath at all in the midst of it. (Hab 2:19)
            Remember the contest on Mt Carmel?  The prophets of Baal called from morning until noon…but there was no voice, and no one answered. (1Kgs 18:26)  Elijah called out ONE TIME.  That was all it took, and the fire came down immediately. This is not to negate the persistence in prayer taught in other passages, but sometimes we treat God as if he, too, were an idol who needed to be roused from sleep, when closer inspection shows that WE need to learn to accept God's decisions.
            How do we know when to do what?  I am not sure, but that closer inspection must surely involve a lot of self-examination.  Why do I keep asking for this particular thing?  Too many times the reasons are selfish, immature, or covetous.  Too many times we refuse to see our own failings in the problems we have.  It's much easier to blame it on someone else than to change ourselves.  It's easier to blame the church than to accept individual responsibility.  How many times have I heard parents say the church is the reason their children are lost?  How many times has Keith heard convicted felons blame their lives on society?
            The answer again is to keep quiet and listen.  Keep quiet and think.  Keep quiet and accept God's judgment.  Repentance doesn't involve excuses—verbalizing a list.  It means we face our sins and change.
            God won't accept backtalk any more than your parents did.
 
Be silent, all flesh, before the LORD, for he has roused himself from his holy dwelling. (Zech 2:13)
 
Dene Ward

Part 1 of five, the remainder being posted every day this week.  It's Hurricane Season and this is a remembrance from six years ago.

When you live in Florida, and probably anywhere in the Caribbean and along the Gulf Coast, you keep an eye on the weather from June 1 till November 30—hurricane season.  My earliest memory of hurricanes was Donna in 1960.  The next was Alma in 1966.  I know there were others that made a Florida landfall, Cleo and Dora, for instance, in 1964, Betsy in 65, and Inez in 66, but they must not have affected my very young life.  After that, we lived in Tampa which did not have a major hit for nearly 100 years, or so I recently heard.
            As a newlywed, we lived out of state for five years so I was hardly aware of Agnes in 72 and Eloise in 75, which created a 12-16 foot storm surge from Panama City to Ft Walton Beach.  Then we moved back to Florida and suddenly hurricanes were a fact of life again, one made more real because of the two little boys we now had to protect. 
            There was Elena in 85, which sent us to our first evacuation shelter.  Andrew in 92 was the one that really opened our eyes to the danger of hurricanes.  Good thing because Florida landfalls picked up suddenly after his arrival.  Gordon in 94 whipped around and made a U-turn, hitting Florida twice.  Erin in 95 followed suit with two landfalls in the state and then Opal arrived only a few weeks afterward with catastrophic damage.  Georges wiped out the Keys in 98 and Floyd came along the east coast in 99, giving us all a good scare.  Then 2004 brought four hurricanes over the state in only a few weeks—Charlie, Frances, Jeanne, and Ivan, which actually made its first landfall in Alabama, wiping out the Florida panhandle which sat on its dangerous eastern side, then crossing the southeast, heading back into the Atlantic, and traveling down to cross South Florida.  And those are just the highlights.
            So when Irma came rolling off the coast of Africa we kept an eye on her all the way across the Atlantic and into the Caribbean.  We watched as she grew from a tropical wave into a depression into a storm and finally into a hurricane.  We watched while her winds increased daily, peaking out at 185 mph—category 5.
            They kept telling us it would turn north—first, in time to miss the mainland altogether, then in time to miss Florida and bounce off the Carolinas, then in time to plow into Georgia.  Then we were told that Miami would take a direct hit and Irma would skirt our eastern coast and off to the northeast Atlantic.  Then the forecast moved west a bit, with this recalcitrant hurricane forecast to come straight up the spine of the state as a category 5.  By then she was really close, so that is what we had to plan for.
            If you have seen those Saffir-Simpson animations, you know what a category 5 will do to a house—destroy it.  That's what a category 2 will do to a mobile home.  We have lived in a doublewide "manufactured home" for 35 years.  Obviously we've taken care of it—a roofover, siding, skirting, hurricane tie-downs that were up to code at the time.  The inside has been practically rebuilt as the years passed and we saved enough money to do so.  But we were still facing the real possibility—probability—of losing it all.  That only took into consideration the winds, not the massive live oaks that spread their branches over us and make our air conditioning bill manageable.  Any one branch of those trees could destroy the house.
            And so we had some decisions to make.  What if we lost it all?  What would we try to save?  It surprised me how little it was.
            We packed a suitcase each of basics:  jeans, tees, underwear and socks, and a couple pairs of shoes.  After a hurricane there is neither time nor inclination for dressing up.  We packed photo albums, bank account ledgers and checks, 2 back-up thumb drives of files on the computer.
            We filled a box with our Bibles and all the notes from every class either of us has ever taught.  I added the September schedule for this blog in case I could find a way to keep it going.  Then we added probably a dozen books that were special to us, less than 5% of the total number we own.
            We are experienced campers.  If the house was destroyed, we planned to use the tent as housing until something permanent could be arranged.  So we packed a cooler, paper plates, paper towels, and cloth towels—things that needed to stay dry.  We figured we could find the rest of our camping gear in the debris.
            Everything we packed fit into the covered bed of the pickup, the trunk of the car, and its backseat. 
            I remember thinking, "We know that someday we will have to leave this place and downsize and we wondered what we would keep.  I guess we just found out."
            Keith nearly echoed my thoughts after our day of packing.  "We started from scratch 43 years ago.  We can do it again."
            There was a sadness about it, yes, and I shed a few tears, but that was all the time I had for that nonsense.  Irma was coming and time was short.  We had prayed for her demise for weeks and continued to for 24 more long hours.  But there was also a sense of acceptance as she came closer and closer.  When you pray, "Thy will be done," there must be, or it isn't really faith.
 
I hear, and my body trembles; my lips quiver at the sound; rottenness enters into my bones; my legs tremble beneath me. Yet I will quietly wait for the day of trouble to come... Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, ​yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. GOD, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places... (Hab 3:16-19). 

Dene Ward

My grandmother crocheted a lace tablecloth for me many years ago.  She was quite a lady, my grandmother.  She was widowed in her forties, left behind with two of her five children still at home.  She met the bills by doing seasonal work in the citrus packing sheds of central Florida, standing on her feet 10-12 hours a day, 6 days a week in season, and then working in a drugstore, a job she walked to and from for nearly thirty years.  She delivered prescriptions, worked the check-out, even made sodas at the fountain. 
            It was a small town and once, a woman whom my grandmother knew was not married, came in looking for some form of birth control.  My grandmother told her, “No!  Go home and behave yourself like a decent woman should.”  No, she did not lose her job over that.  She merely said what every other person there wished they had the nerve to say back in those days.  She lived long enough to see the shame of our society that no one thinks it needs saying any more.
            As to my tablecloth, most people would look at it and think it was imperfect.  She crocheted with what was labeled “ivory” thread, but she could never afford to buy enough at once to do the whole piece.  So after she cashed her paycheck, she went to the store and bought as much as her budget would allow that week and worked on it.  The next week, she went back and did the same, always buying the same brand labeled “ivory.”  Funny thing about those companies, though—when the lot changes, sometimes the color does too, sometimes only a little, but sometimes “ivory” becomes more of a vanilla or even crème caramel.  The intricately crocheted squares in my tablecloth are not all the same color, even though the thread company said they were.
            Some people probably look at it and wonder what went wrong.  All they see is mismatched colors.  What I see is a grandmother’s love, a grandmother who had very little, but who wanted to do something special for her oldest grandchild.  I revel in those mismatched squares because I know my grandmother thought of me every week for a long time, spent the precious little she had to try to do something nice, and, as far as I am concerned, succeeded far beyond her wildest dreams.
            If it were your grandmother, you would think the same I am sure.  So why is it we think Almighty God cannot take our imperfections and make us into great men and women of faith?  Why is it we beat ourselves to death when we make a mistake, even one we repent of and do our best to correct?  Do we not yet understand grace?  Are we so arrogant that we think we don’t have to forgive ourselves even though God does?  Yes we should understand the enormity of our sin, repenting in godly sorrow, over and over, even as David did, but prolonged groveling in the pit of unworthiness can be more about self-pity and lacking faith in God to do what he promised than it is about humility.  The longer we indulge in it, the less we are doing for the Lord, and Satan is just as pleased as if we had gone on sinning.  Either way helps him out.
            The next time you look into a mirror and see only your faults, remember my tablecloth.  When you give God all you have, he can make you into something beautiful too.
 
And God is able to make all grace abound unto you, that you, always having all sufficiency in everything, may abound unto every good work, 2 Cor 9:8.

Dene Ward

A young woman is making biscuits for her new husband.  When she tries to roll them out she has a problem—they keep falling apart.  It is all she can do to make them stick together long enough to get them on the baking sheet.  And when she tries to take them off, they fall to pieces.  Her husband tells her, “That’s all right.  It’s the taste that matters,” as he gallantly takes a bite, and a little bite is all he can get.  They crumble so easily he cannot even butter them.  Before long, his plate is filled with crumbs and he has not managed to eat even half a biscuit’s worth.
            The next morning she calls her mother. “Too much shortening,” her mother says.  So that evening the new bride tries again.  If shortening is the culprit, she reasons, maybe no shortening at all would be even better. 
            That night, as she slides the biscuits off into the basket, each lands with an ominous thud.  Her husband gamely takes a bite, or at least tries to.  They might as well be hockey pucks. 
            I imagine that even non-cooks can see the point here.  Each ingredient in the recipe makes a difference; each one is important and must not be left out—the shortening makes the biscuits tender, the flour gives them enough structure to hold together.  Why are we smart enough to see that here, but forget it when it comes to spiritual matters?
            One group says faith is the only thing we need.  Another says strict obedience is the only thing we need.  One of them bakes crumbs, the other hockey pucks. 
            Every generation reacts to the past generation’s errors by overcorrecting.  Each group is so afraid of making the same mistake that they make another one, and worse, usually sneer at their fathers for missing it so badly, thinking in their youthful arrogance that they have discovered something brand new.  What they have usually discovered is the same error another generation made long ago, the error their fathers tried to correct and overdid as well.
            Why is it so hard to stop that swinging pendulum in the middle?  Why do we arrogantly suppose that the last group did everything wrong and we are doing everything right. 
            Does God want faith?  Yes, the righteous shall live by his faith, Hab 2:4. 
            Does God want obedience?  Yes, to obey is better than sacrifice, 1 Sam 15:22.
            Does God want our hearts? He always has, and why can’t we put it all together?  Thanks be to God…that you became obedient from the heart, Rom 6:17.
            The Hebrew writer equates disobedience with a lack of faith.  And to whom did he swear that they should not enter into his rest but to them who were disobedient?  And we see that they were not able to enter in due to unbelief, Heb 3:18,19.
            Can God make it any plainer?  He doesn’t want crumbs; He doesn’t want hockey pucks; He wants a nice tender biscuit of a heart that is firm enough to hold the shape of the pattern used to cut it.  Follow the recipe God gave you.  When you go about your day today, make sure you have all the ingredients.
 
Woe to you scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you tithe mint, anise, and cumin, and have left undone the weightier matters of the law.  But these [matters of the heart] you ought to have done, and not left the other [matters of strict obedience] undone, Matt 23:23.

Dene Ward

Chloe is growing quickly.  She is now seven months old and about two-thirds the size of our seven year old Australian cattle dog Magdi.  Sometimes I have to look twice to tell which one I am looking at.  Yes, I know that does not mean much considering the state of my vision these days, but I know these dogs.
            Chloe, however, is still very much a puppy.  She will bring her small football to you to throw over and over, or her old rag to play tug-o-war again and again after she manages to yank it away from you.  You will always wear out before she does.  She prances and cavorts, romps and darts, and any other word in a thesaurus describing playfulness. 
            A few weeks ago she started chasing butterflies.  We have all sorts our here in the country, black and orange monarchs, yellow and black swallowtails, sapphire blue and black hairstreaks, and the ubiquitous canary yellow sulphurs that flit all over, changing direction almost faster than your eye can follow.  Those are Chloe’s favorites to chase, maybe because they are smaller.  Some of the swallowtails are nearly as big as her head.
            One morning, after Magdi had already left my side, and Chloe was still prancing along, another yellow butterfly flitted into our path.  Just as usual, Chloe chased it.  And then, when she least expected it, she caught it.  The look on her face was shock, then panic as the butterfly evidently kept on flitting inside her mouth.  Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and the butterfly flew out, none the worse for wear, and Chloe happily resumed the chase.
            I thought then, once again, of Jesus’ admonition to become as little children.  Was this yet another way that children are superior to adults, at least in the kingdom?  They do not realize that, with their feet firmly planted on the ground, they should not be able to catch something that can fly.  They do not know when something is supposed to be impossible.  They do not know the meaning of “illogical.”  They do not know what science has and has not discovered.  How often do we let our maturity in the world rob of us our childhood in the kingdom?  How often have I uttered that pessimistic comment, “It’ll never work?”  How often do we look at a new Christian, especially one who has come from a difficult background, and say, “He won’t last?”  How often do we look at the physical to judge the spiritual--placing our trust in things that look strong and effective on the outside, and never allowing childlike trust to take a chance on God’s power—and why, oh why, do we even consider that “taking a chance?”  Why do we refuse to pray for the impossible? 
            Magdi often plays with Chloe, especially in the cool of the evening, but more often she is content to sit and watch.  She keeps a good humor about her most of the time, but sometimes Chloe’s high spirits annoy her.  When Chloe is chasing a butterfly, not paying attention to where her romps take her, and she runs right over Magdi, she is often rewarded with a growl, or even a nip.  When Magdi actually snorts, it seems for all the world like a grumpy old woman saying, “When will she grow up?  She will never catch the thing, and she is always getting in the way and causing me trouble.”
            I suppose Magdi doesn’t remember the day she jumped over three feet off the ground and caught a bird on the wing.  I mourned the beautiful cardinal, but her form was beautiful, elegant, and to see a dog jump higher off the ground than she is tall and catch a flying bird is amazing.  You see, Magdi was a puppy once, too.
            Maybe only silly little puppies chase butterflies and birds; but then, only puppies catch them.
 
Woe to those that…rely on horses, and trust in chariots because they are many, and in horsemen because they are very strong, but they look not unto the Holy One of Israel, neither seek Jehovah, Isa 31:1.
 
Jesus, looking upon them said, With men it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God, Mark 10:27.        
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
            The book of Deuteronomy is a collection of the last few times Moses spoke to the Children of Israel before he died and they entered the Promised Land.  It ends with two songs and a farewell address, but the majority of the book is a series of sermons encouraging the people and re-giving the Law.  When I started seriously studying it to teach it in Bible class, I was amazed at just how much these sermons resemble sermons we might preach today.
            For example, the first sermon (chapters 1-4) begins with a quick recap of how their fathers had rebelled against God and refused to take the Promised Land.  They had been too afraid to go into the land.  Deut. 1:28 "Where are we going up? Our brothers have made our hearts melt, saying, “The people are greater and taller than we. The cities are great and fortified up to heaven. And besides, we have seen the sons of the Anakim there.”’ Looking back on this, we shake our heads at their lack of faith but in reality, their fears were reasonable.  1)  The people in the land out-numbered them and were generally bigger.  2) The cities were huge and strongly fortified.  3)  In addition to the populous generally being bigger, there were actual Giants living in the land. (In Josh. 11:22 it states that the few Anakim who survived the conquest settled in Gath.  Now, who was the most famous resident of Gath?)  These fears were completely reasonable except for the fact that God was on their side.
            Moses then uses the history of his listeners to show just how ridiculous this fear was.  In chapter 2 he recounts the march to their current camp just east of the Jordan River.  On the way, God told them not to bother the Edomites because He had given them the land they occupied.  There had been other people there before, but when God decided to give the Edomites the land, they had no trouble occupying it (vs 5,12).  Then they were told not to bother the Moabites, because God had given them their land.  There used to be Giants there, too, called Emim, but the Moabites had no trouble driving them out when God gave them that land (vs 9-11).  This was repeated with the Ammonites (vs 19-22), who drove out another Giant race (the Zamzummim) to take their land.  The Israelites would have remembered God's instructions through Moses concerning these nations, and Moses uses that knowledge to refute two of the fears.  When God decided to bless these pagan peoples who had no relationship with Him, it didn't matter that there were people already living there nor did it matter how strong they were, God gave them that land.  So, what would He do for His people?
            Moses then uses the victories of Israel over the Amorite kings Sihon and Og to dispel with the third fear (2:32-3:6).  In defeating these kings, the Israelites captured all their cities, many of which were strongly fortified.  Moses graphically displays that if God is on their side, nothing could stand in their way:  "And I commanded Joshua at that time, ‘Your eyes have seen all that the LORD your God has done to these two kings. So will the LORD do to all the kingdoms into which you are crossing.  You shall not fear them, for it is the LORD your God who fights for you.’" (Deut. 3:21-22)
            Is it ever scary to be a Christian?  Be honest; sometimes it is terrifying.  To be different from everyone around you all the time, to be accused of self-righteousness or mean-spiritedness because of taking a stand for the truth can be pretty frightening.  To miss out on promotions because you won't work Sundays or because people think of you as judgmental can be scary.  To be attacked on social media and needing to erase your accounts because you declared that some things are right and some things are wrong can be unnerving.  Nowadays, some people are losing their businesses which they worked their lives through to establish because they won't' accommodate sin or are even being thrown in jail for refusal to follow immoral government mandates.  That can be terrifying.  These are all reasonable fears, from a worldly perspective.  But as Moses used the example of pagan kingdoms God wished to bless to encourage the Israelites, we can use the example of God's blessings on His earthly kingdom to find strength to carry on (Col. 2:17, Heb. 8:5; 10:1).  Joshua was told not to fear because God was fighting for them.  How much less reason do we have to fear as part of the Kingdom God established by the sacrifice of His Son?  Won't God fight even harder for us? 
            Fear is natural when Satan's forces are arrayed against us, but remember who fights on our side and keep marching forward to the Promised Land.
 
Luke 12:32  “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."
Heb. 13:6  "So we can confidently say, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?'” 
 
Lucas 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 forty 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 on the way home, 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-four 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.  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 headed down that rural highway, gradually picking up speed.  Somehow I can see two little heads peering over the edge of the nest, looking down the road 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.
            Life can be a pretty wild ride, too.  It's that way because we messed it up several thousand years ago.  God told Adam and Eve they would face hard work, and 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 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 Ethel!"  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