Tarragon is a difficult herb.  It’s even hard to find at the local garden shops.  You have to go to the independent, specialty shops where everything costs twice as much.  Then when you get it, it’s hard to grow.  Not only is the flavor delicate, so is the plant.  I have killed more than my share of these fragile babies. 
 
             But speaking of delicate flavor, it is almost paradoxical that something so delicate is also so distinctive.  Like cilantro, you know when a dish has even a hint of tarragon in it, but at the same time it won’t take over.  Tarragon in a chicken salad makes it a main event, and I have a pork chop recipe with tarragon cream sauce that turns that mundane diner staple into fine dining.  (See the recipe page if you are interested.)

              As I said, I usually wind up killing whatever tarragon plants I manage to find.  I always thought it was the heat, but maybe it’s me.  Somehow, last year’s plant survived until frost.  Then I got another wonderful surprise.  This spring it came back from the root.  I didn’t believe it at first.  It looked like tarragon, and it was in the same spot as the plant last summer, but I still didn’t believe it—not until I pinched off a leaf and smelled it.  Yesssss!  This year I don’t have to comb the garden shops looking for another one to kill.  It’s right there in my herb bed, waiting for its execution day.

              Speaking of these sorts of things, I find it bewildering that people get themselves so wrought up over whether or not the Lord’s church existed somewhere in hiding in the Middle Ages.  Maybe it did; maybe it didn’t.  Maybe there actually was a spell when no one alive even bothered trying to follow the New Testament pattern.  Why should that affect my faith?  The seed is the Word of God, Luke 8:11.  We still have that seed.  We can still plant it and it will produce after its own kind, just as God ordained for every seed from the moment He created the first one. 

              Sometimes we keep leftover seeds in the freezer.  If we had a bumper crop and I put up way too much corn, I may not plant any the next year, or even the next.  But when I get that seed out, as I did a few weeks ago, we can plant it again, and lo and behold there is now corn growing in the garden, a few silks already turning brown. It will happen every time we plant that seed, no matter how long it’s been since the last time we planted it.  The same will happen when we plant the Word of God, the seed that produces Christians.

              And what’s more, we still have the Root, and that’s even better.  As long as the gospel exists and we can preach about that Root, the one who came to earth, lived as we do, died, and rose again, faith will spring up from that Root, and the Lord’s body will once again exist. 

              Why is this so surprising?  Why indeed should it bother me one way or the other if I trust God?  He ordained this rule.  Who could ever undo it?  And Abraham believed God and it was reckoned unto him for righteousness. (Rom 4:3).  Do you believe Him?
 
And again Isaiah says, "The root of Jesse will come, even he who arises to rule the Gentiles; in him will the Gentiles hope." May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:12-13
 
Dene Ward

As soon as the garden is planted it starts—our evening stroll to see how it fares, what has come up, what is bearing, what is ripe and ready to pick the next morning, which plants show signs of disease or insects, and then, what should we do about it.  It’s a habit, a ritual almost, one we look forward to every year.

              Sometimes I think that God must love gardens too.  The first place he built for man, the perfect place, was a garden--and Jehovah planted a garden, eastward, in Eden, and there he put the man whom he had formed, Gen 2:8.  And it was in that garden that He walked with man every evening.  I wonder what they talked about.  Probably a lot of the things we talk about—but then maybe not.

              What will be ripe tomorrow?  Yes, they might have discussed that, because Eden probably produced a bumper crop.  Do we need to spray for bugs?  No, not that, for bugs were not a problem.  What will be ready for supper tomorrow night?  Yes, the choice was probably endless.  Do we need to pull the plants that are infected with blight so they won’t infect others?  No, definitely not that question--at least not at the beginning.  Eventually, though, Adam was discussing with Eve exactly what we discuss about our far from perfect garden.  Yes, we need to spray.  Yes, we need to water.  Yes, we need to pull those weeds out before they choke out the plants, and I sure hope there’s enough produce to put up for next year too!

              We each have a garden.  The Song of Solomon uses the term to refer to the physical body and chastity.  I have no trouble using it to refer to my soul as well.  Shouldn’t I be out there every evening with God, surveying that garden, examining it for pests and disease, looking for wilt and fungus, making decisions about how to save that garden and make it bear the most fruit for the Lord?

              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

              Prove me, O LORD, and try me; test my heart and my mind. Psalms 26:2

              Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!  Psalms 139:23-24

              We even sing that last one.  Do we mean it?  Do we really want to look closely enough to see how to properly tend our gardens, gardens that belong to God?  Are we really willing to look through His word long enough and deeply enough to find our faults and fix them?

              Every evening God expects you to meet Him in that garden of a soul, to plant His word in it and tend it as necessary, even if it becomes painful.  He knows it is the only way for that garden to produce, so that you can someday be in the new Garden of Eden with Him.
 
The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the LORD; they flourish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the LORD is upright; he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him. Psalms 92:12-15
 
Dene Ward

Last spring, just like every spring for the past 37 years, we planted the garden. That early in the year, the heat is not bad, the humidity is low, and the sub-tropical sun leaves us with only a moderate sunburn.  We came in with dirty clothes and aching backs, sat down together, leaned forward with crossed fingers on each hand held tightly at our temples, squeezed our eyes shut and said, “I hope, I hope, please, please, please grow.” 

              Do you for one minute believe that?  No, we counted five days ahead, and then went out that evening and looked for what we were sure would be there, seedlings poking their heads through the clods of earth, and sure enough, there they were.

              Our definition of hope is very much as I described, like a couple of middle school girls who “hope” a certain cute boy will look their way, or a teacher will change the due date on a big project, or a “mean” girl won’t spread some sort of embarrassing news about them.  “Please, please, please, maybe, maybe, maybe.”  That is not the Bible definition of hope. 

              I knew that, but I am not sure how much I really understood it until I did a study on hope and found passage after passage that made it abundantly clear.

              …Waiting for our blessed hope, Titus 2:13.  That’s “waiting” like waiting for the bus at the regular stop, not like you just walked out one morning with absolutely no knowledge of the city transit system, sat down on the side of the road and “hoped” you had guessed right.

              …The full assurance of hope, Heb 6:11, not just a hint that it might be possible, but completely sure it will happen.

              Hope is a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, Heb 6:19.  How would you like to use the hope we often express as a “maybe” as your anchor in the middle of a storm?

              …Hope of eternal life, which God, who cannot lie, promised, Titus 1:2. 

              Peter says that our salvation is “ready to be revealed,” 1 Pet 1:5, a salvation he makes synonymous to the “hope” in verse 3.  It’s like a portrait on an easel covered by a satin cloth, just waiting for the unveiling.  God has prepared that salvation “from the foundation of the world,” Matt 25:34.  No one is up there still hammering away on the off chance it might be ready when you need it.  It is already there, available whenever the Lord decides to give it.  Sure.  Certain.  There is nothing cross-your-fingers “maybe, maybe, maybe,” about it.

              Farming is tricky enough with weather, pests, and plant diseases abounding.  If a man had to wonder whether or not a seed would sprout where he planted it, who would ever even try?  Paul uses that very example in 1 Cor 9:10: for our sake it was written that he who plows ought to plow in hope, and he who threshes to thresh in hope of partaking.

              Our hope is like planting seeds.  They will come up, and it will come about.  It’s time we left middle school behind with its string of maybes, and became adults who understand the assuredness of our hope, and then use that certainty to strengthen us in whatever situations life holds.
 
Now our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word,  2 Thessalonians 2:16-17.
 
Dene Ward

We plant a lot of tomatoes in our garden.  We have learned by trial and error that it is far better to plant more than you think you can possibly use of several different varieties.  Some years one type produces better than the others.  Some years one will be wiped out by a disease that doesn’t touch the others.  Usually there is neither rhyme nor reason for any of it.  By planting several types, we can be sure to have some, if not all, bear fruit, and by planting too many, if it’s a bad year, we still have enough.  On the other hand, if it’s a good year, we can be generous with friends and neighbors.

              We have also learned which types work best in our area.  For a long time we could always find what we needed in plants, but gardening has become the fashion now, and just like clothes, certain types of tomatoes are popular, and practicality seldom has anything to with it.  You used to have to search far and wide for heirlooms.  Now you must search far and wide for the ordinary hybrids.  The problem with heirlooms, at least in our part of the country, is that they bear about 5% as much as the ordinary hybrid.  We usually plant 90-95 tomatoes to fill our needs in fresh tomatoes, canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, and salsa.  If we used heirlooms exclusively, we would need to plant nearly 2000.

              If we can’t find the reliable varieties of plants in the garden shops any longer, we can find their seeds in at least one of the half dozen seed catalogues we receive.  It’s a lot more trouble.  In our small home, we have to use the entire back bedroom to lay out the seed sponges and set up the grow-lights.  When they outgrow the sponges, they are still too small and delicate to place outdoors and the weather still too cold, so we have to transplant each one into a larger cup—all 90, one by one.  Then, when the weather finally turns, we have to carry them outside every day, a little longer every day, to harden them for the final transplant into the garden where they will be prey to sun, wind, insects, birds, and animals.  Because of our careful preparation, most of them make it.  We seldom lose more than half a dozen.

              All that because fashion has taken over in gardening instead of common sense and proven track records.  It happens in every area of life. 

              Don’t get me started on the organic craze.  People had been eating organic foods for thousands of years when Jesus came along and there were still plenty of sick people for him to heal and raise from the dead.

              Everyone knows how music changes.  As far as our songs in the assembled worship, we are seeing a whole lot more rhythm and a whole lot less depth in the words.  Or, “Wow!” someone says—usually someone with a music background—“this one actually uses Dorian mode!”  Yes, but can an untrained congregation sing it easily enough to focus on the lyrics and actually do some “teaching and admonishing?”

              Teaching has its fads.  We gave up phonics and wound up with “Johnny Can’t Read.”  In Bible classes we stopped teaching Bible facts to our children because we wanted them to develop the “heart” and not just the knowledge.  So now we have ignorant people tearing churches apart over things they should have been taught as children.  We used to be known for our Bible knowledge—now many of us are as clueless as any unbeliever on the streets.

              Yes, some things are changeable expedients, and I have agreed with most of ours.  However, those things should be carefully weighed not only for their rightness, but also for the sake of pure old common sense.  Do we want to do it because it will work better for this group of people, or because everyone else is doing it?  Some of us wind up planting 2000 tomatoes just so we look good to the world, when 90 of the right kind would do just fine, probably better, at fulfilling the need. 

              The seed is the word of God, Jesus said.  Maybe it’s time we used the seed instead of chasing around looking for something new and exciting.  God’s way works, but only if you know it, and only if you use it.
 
Whoever is wise, let him understand these things; whoever is discerning, let him know them; for the ways of the LORD are right, and the upright walk in them, but transgressors stumble in them. Hosea 14:9
 
Dene Ward
 

All summer I had been watching those monarch butterflies flit over my flower beds. Every couple of days I carefully checked the herb garden twenty feet away for signs of their caterpillars.  That’s what I read somewhere—that monarch butterfly caterpillars are the dreaded parsley worms that can wreak havoc on that herb almost overnight.  Nothing happened.  My parsley grew well and was never infested.  Somehow I got off easy this year.  I thought.

              Then in mid-October we went away for a week.  We returned on a Friday night, after dark, too late to see much but the back porch by the light hanging outside the back door.  The next morning we stepped out for a stroll and saw what had happened.  Every sprig of parsley was completely bare, only the bright green stems sticking up completely naked—except here and there for the bright green worm still clinging to the bush it had just decimated.  I am not so paranoid as to think that somehow they all got together and planned the attack for while we were away, but it was certainly suspicious.

              Satan, on the other hand, is perfectly capable of planning his attacks that way.  He waits until we are most vulnerable.  He waits until we have experienced a crisis in our lives, until we are frustrated by circumstances, until our defenses are down, and then he zooms in for the kill.  Being on the alert when you are tired and hurt is not easy, but that is exactly what we must do, standing guard as a soldier in the Lord’s army. 

              One of the greatest benefits of being in the family of God is having people who care enough to watch your back.  All of us should be aware of the crises in our brothers and sisters’ lives.  Too often we are so consumed with our own affairs that we don’t have time to watch out for others, and that means we are too consumed, period.  Then we wonder how a brother could fall so far, why a sister was caught up in such a sin, why a family has “suddenly” disappeared from among us.  How in the world could those things have happened?  They happened in part because everyone was too busy to notice.

              What do you do when announcements are made in the assembly?  Is that when you spend your time arranging your books, glasses, and children on the pew, the time you flip to the first song and look through it, the time you know you can spend a little longer in the ladies’ room before you need to be seated?  Those announcements should be your greatest tool the next week as you figure out what you need to do for whom, how you can encourage a brother or sister in distress, what you might say to one whose soul is in danger.  How much do you hear when you are finishing up a conversation that has no bearing on a soul, or racing to your pew before the first song begins?  Those pieces of news are about service, and that is the most important part of a Christian’s life, considering one another…Heb 10:24.

              Be aware of the timing in the lives of others too.  Is it the first anniversary of a widow’s loss?  Is it a season that makes being alone that much harder for the single?  Are ordeals approaching in people’s lives that might make them more prone to Satan’s attacks?  We have a job to do; we have service to offer; we have comfort to give and sometimes exhortation and rebuke when we see those attacks making progress in the lives of another.

              If we see them.  If we care.  If we aren’t so wrapped up in ourselves that we miss the attacks and wake up one morning to an almost overnight slaughter in the garden of God.
 
Wherefore lift up the hands that hang down, and the palsied knees; and make straight paths for your feet, that that which is lame be not turned out of the way, but rather be healed, Hebrews 12:12-13.
 
Dene Ward

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it. (Matt 13:45-46)

              Over forty years ago we were given the granddaddy of all winter squashes.  It sat nearly two feet high on its belled bottom, but would have been much higher if the neck had been straight.  Instead the neck bent over and made a nifty handle to carry it by, which helped a lot since it must have weighed about twenty pounds.

              We really enjoyed that squash.  It was the sweetest winter squash we ever ate, and as long as you were eating on the neck, you could cut off what you needed and just cover the end with plastic wrap until the next time.  Only when you reached the bell did you need to go ahead and scrape out the seeds and cook it all.

              So last year we decided to look for seeds for that squash.  We are now living over a thousand miles south of where we lived back then, and we could not even remember the name of the person who gave it to us.  We sent letters up to old friends and they had never seen or heard of anything matching its description.  Turns out the name we thought we remembered was not really a name, either.  "King" squash was evidently someone's description of this behemoth which they considered the "king" of all squashes.

              So we gave up on the name and started reading descriptions in seed catalogues.  Most had nothing even close.  The same old butternut, acorn, and spaghetti squashes filled the catalogue pages.  Finally we found a catalogue that specialized in heirloom varieties.  They had something called a Cushaw that was long and weighed about the right amount.  The neck was straight and just as thick as the body, so that wasn't quite right, but it was the closest thing we could find.  So we ordered some seeds.  The color wasn't right when the vine finally bore fruit.  But we didn't give up on it until we had cooked it and eaten it.  This was not the "king" squash we had enjoyed so many years ago.

              So we tried again.  This time we scoured the internet.  A friend became interested and decided to help and he is the one who finally found it.  He didn't find it by the name "squash."  He found it by the name "pumpkin."  And we came to learn that there isn't one name for this vegetable, just several descriptions.  It's a "neck pumpkin" because of the long, curved neck, or it's a Pennsylvania Dutch crookneck squash, once again because of the curved neck, but also because of its origins.  I use it like squash and I use it like pumpkin, and it fits nearly any recipe for those things as long as you follow the cooking instructions.               

               Seems to me that the same things can be true of the New Testament church.  I know people who have found it, not by the sign by the highway, but by matching what it does with what the church in the Bible did.  Not by matching a creed, or a preacher, or even a "name," but by whether or not it followed God's law.  Just cut it open, take a taste and see.  If you go out looking for a name on a sign, you can still find the wrong thing.  If you look only at the outside, you can miss it altogether.  It's the inner workings, the body of Christ following its head, the bride of Christ in subjection to the bridegroom, the vine bearing the fruit of the Spirit, the building built on the proper cornerstone and foundation.

              It can be done.  I know people who have.  It's up to us to be that body, to match the description and taste like the real thing so that anyone who does come looking can find us.

But if all prophesy, and an unbeliever or outsider enters, he is convicted by all, he is called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed, and so, falling on his face, he will worship God and declare that God is really among you. (1Cor 14:24-25)
 
Dene Ward

Campgrounds have a lot of aggravating rules.  Some of them are just plain ridiculous.  Yet, I understand the problem.  Too many thoughtless people have no concept of picking up after themselves while being careful where they dump things. 

              Most state parks have a place to dump “gray water.”  We aren’t talking about raw sewage.  Gray water, as defined, includes the dishpan of water you washed your dishes in.  Ever carry a couple gallons of water 500 yards in an awkward dishpan you must hold out in front of you, trying not to slosh it all over yourself in the cold?  Nearly impossible.  And who, living in the country, doesn’t know that wash water works wonders on the blueberries and flower beds?  At least the last park we stayed at had dispensed with the gray water rule.

              I think some of these things bother me because, as country people, we are always green.  We are careful what gets dumped where, even if it means having to load it up and cart it off to the landfill ourselves; you don’t want your groundwater polluted, especially uphill from the well.  We rotate crops.  We even rotate garden spots. We use twigs to dissuade cutworms rather than plastic rings or metal nails. We mulch with the leaves from our live oaks, which we then turn under to enrich the ground after the garden is spent.  We dump the ashes from the woodstove into the fallow garden.  I am sure Keith could add even more to this list.

              God expects his people to be “green.”  Good stewardship of his gifts has always been his expectation, from our abilities to the gospel itself.  You can even find sewage disposal rules in the Law.  Cruelty to animals was punished under the Old Covenant.  That same principle of stewardship follows into the New.

              At the same time, God said, “Have dominion over [the earth] and subdue [the animals],” Gen 1:28.  He said to eat of the plants and the animals, 1:29; 9:3.  God meant this to be a place we used for our survival, not a zoological and botanical garden where nothing can be touched.  When we carefully use the resources of the earth, it will continue to furnish us with the things we need.  So we eat sustainable seafood.  We hunt in season, and eat the meat we bring home.  We raise and eat animals fed with garden refuse.  We carefully sow and reap so the ground will continue to be arable.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of that.

              Sometimes, though, the people who claim to be green are no longer flesh-colored (in all its assorted hues).  They care more for animals than people.  I know that is true when I see a “Save the Whales” bumper sticker on the same car touting “The Right to Choose.”  Let’s save the animals, but the babies are fair game.

              Shades of Romans 1--Paul speaks of the Gentiles who had rejected Jehovah throughout the ancient days and eventually arrived at the point that they “worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator” 1:25.  Our culture has come dangerously close to that.  The environment has become the cause du jour, and while I certainly agree that we should care for the beautiful home God gave us and not be cruel to animals, it is because I am grateful to the God who made them for me, not because I have less regard for humans.  I have always been that way, not just recently, yet I still know that people are more important than sea turtles, and unborn children more so than polar bears.

              So let’s be green, just as God has always expected—but let’s be flesh-colored too, caring about the people, and their souls even more than the animals.  And let us also be as white as snow—an obedient people who worship and serve the God who created it all.
 
From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work. You cause the grass to grow for the livestock and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth.  The trees of the LORD are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. In them the birds build their nests; the stork has her home in the fir trees. The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the rock badgers. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they steal away and lie down in their dens. Man goes out to his work and to his labor until the evening. O LORD, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. May the glory of the LORD endure forever; may the LORD rejoice in his works, Psa 104:13,14,16-18,21-24,31.
 
Dene Ward
 

I had heard bad news the night before, and after a night of crying and praying, had completely passed the grief stage and was well into rage.  I furiously weeded the flower beds, flinging dirt and weeds as hard as I could.  At least it served a purpose.  In Florida, you can’t just hoe the weeds and expect them to die.  Anything green will re-root by morning in this humid climate unless you completely remove it from the garden. 

              I was black to my elbows and sweating profusely when it crossed my mind to wonder if it might just be all right to curse if I were cursing Satan.  Chloe sat next to me, tilting her head back and forth in confusion.  Finally, when the convulsive sobbing started, she tucked her tail between her legs and slunk off in the direction of the porch, with a bewildered look over her shoulder at me.

              In a moment of clarity awhile later, I realized that I had reached a milestone in my spiritual life.  Automatically, without even having to think about it, I had directed my rage at the right person.  Instead of blaming God, I had blamed the one who twists every good thing into ugliness.  For once I had never even had a question about why this particular thing had happened.  I knew why it had happened—because the enemy of God is the enemy of every one of his faithful children too.

              So why doesn’t God keep anything bad from happening to those children?  Maybe the same reason a good parent doesn’t shield his child from the result of his own mistakes.  Maybe the same reason we make them eat their vegetables and get their shots.  Causing pain is not always bad, not if you want to build healthy bodies and strong characters.  But who am I to even ask or say anything definitive about the matter?  This is all I can say:

              His faithfulness is everlasting, Psa 119:90.
              He loves justice and will not forsake his saints, Psa 37:28.
              His love is steadfast, Psa 89:2.
              There is no unrighteousness in him, Psa 92:15.
            He made all things very good, Gen 1:31, and is the only one who is good, Luke 18:19. 
              He cannot be tempted with evil, and is never the cause of temptation, James 1:13.

              Does any of that sound like the one we should blame about anything?  Most of our problems come because of the freewill God created in us, yet even that freewill is a good thing for it means we can choose to love and serve God rather than being the pawns of a pagan notion of destiny.  It means He can know that our service is willing and not forced, and that our love for Him is just as genuine as His for us.

              That means we will have to put up with things we don’t like, with things that hurt and cause us pain because a long time ago one of us chose the wrong way, and suddenly there was evil in the world.  But isn’t it wonderful that the justice of God says that, while we may have to live with the effects of that choice, we aren’t saddled with its guilt—we can make our own choices.

              Remember when bad things befall you who to blame.  Go out to your flower beds and remind yourself what the scriptures call him each time you rip out a weed and fling it with all your might--the Accuser, the Adversary, the Enemy, the Evil One, the father of lies, the Prince of demons, the Ruler of this world, that old Serpent, the Tempter.  Why in the world would we ever think Someone Else was to blame?
 
This I recall to my mind; therefore have I hope. It is of Jehovah's lovingkindnesses that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness. Jehovah is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. Jehovah is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeks him. It is good that a man should hope and quietly wait for the salvation of Jehovah. Lam 3:21-26
 
Dene Ward

That garden of ours is a lot of work.  In Florida that means it is also a lot of sweat.  When Keith comes in from a summertime Saturday of hoeing, weeding, mulching, spraying, mowing, and picking, he must leave his work clothes hanging on the porch because the hems are literally dripping.

              Losing that much fluid can be dangerous.  Dehydration can cause nausea, vomiting, muscle cramps, lightheadedness, and heart palpitations as the body tries to pump the same amount of blood with less liquid to accomplish the task.  If the body is not re-hydrated, confusion will follow, and eventually coma, organ failure, and death.

              It is important to keep your body hydrated as you go along and not wait until you are thirsty.  Keith always carries a gallon jug of water out with him to set in the shade of the carport while he works.  Every time he has a break in the activity—a finished row, an accomplished chore, an errand that takes him past the carport—he stops to take a drink even if he doesn’t think he needs it.  If you wait until you are thirsty, dehydration has already set in.

              I like to think of our Sunday assemblies as our chance to re-hydrate.  Nothing can sap your energy and drain your spiritual reservoirs like a week out in the world.  Without replenishing ourselves on a regular basis, we can suffer spiritual dehydration.  Trials become harder to bear and temptations more difficult to overcome.  The carnal, selfish attitudes that surround us can drain our faith.  Suddenly we hit a critical point, a time when our souls wrest in a spiritual cramp, and if we do not top up the tanks, a spiritual heat stroke in on the horizon.  If we wait too long, coma—an indifference to our situation—and spiritual death will soon follow.

              When the assembly of the saints works as it was intended, it reminds us that we are not alone, encourages us with the hope of the gospel, strengthens the muscles that have grown weak with exhaustion, and replenishes the faith, “provoking one another to love and good works.”  That meeting that we so often do nothing but complain about is as essential to our spiritual health as water is to our bodies. 

              But you can’t just sit there looking at the water bottle and expect to gather strength from it.  You can’t expect someone to hold it for you.  Your mama quit doing that a long time ago.  Re-hydration takes at least enough effort to pick up the bottle, lift it to your lips, and swallow.

              You don’t need it every week, you say?  Yes, you do.  If you wait till you’re thirsty, damage has already been done to your soul.  If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take a sip every chance you get.
             
Jesus said to her, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." John 4:13-14
 
Dene Ward

I had a beautiful flower garden last year—brick red gaillardia, their blooms lined with yellow-gold trumpet-shaped petals; pink, magenta, white, and burgundy cosmos fluttering on feathery spring green plumes: hardy, yellow gloriosa daisies shining like beacons among the leaves; yellow, orange, and rust colored marigolds perched on the bushiest plants I had ever seen in that flower; bright purple Mexican petunias who, though they shed their blooms every night, never failed to greet me with another show of dozens every morning; and zinnias sporting every color imaginable--white, yellow, salmon, cherry red, fire engine red, bright orange, purple, pink, lime green, and even variegated colors, growing as tall as five feet before the summer was out.

            Unfortunately, those zinnias began growing something besides blooms. It started at the bottom, with black-rimmed white spots on just a few lower leaves.  It spread from one plant to several in an area until finally it had touched every single plant.  Then it began its inexorable climb until only the top few leaves remained green, and only the newest blossoms, barely opened from the bud, were clean.  It took me awhile to realize what was happening, and by the time I figured it out, it was too late.

            Still, I didn’t want to pull the plants.  They did have a little green left at the top, and where there is life there is hope, right?  Finally after several mornings of looking out on what had once brought joy to my mornings and seeing instead a mass of black leaves and stems, I made a decision.  Why did I have these flowers anyway?   Because they were beautiful, and even I could see all that color from a distance.  Were they beautiful any longer?  No, they were about as ugly as they could be.  And the longer I waited, the further that fungus spread.  The gaillardia were already infected, and a few of the marigolds.

            So the next day I went out and began pulling.  It wasn’t even laborious.  Those plants were so sick that they came right up out of the ground, and do you know what I found underneath?  New seedlings growing from the deadheads I had been cutting all summer.  If I had left those ugly things much longer, the baby plants would have been choked out by the much larger roots and then infected as well.  Now they can breathe and grow, and the sunlight reaches their tiny leaves. I have already gotten out the copper spray, a fungicide that is even considered “organic,” not that I would care since my goal is to save those new flowers no matter what it takes, and they aren’t on the menu anyway.

            Still, it was hard to make that decision.  I have trouble even thinning the rows in the vegetable garden.  It goes against my nature to pull up a plant that is still alive, even if it does mean better production from the ones you leave, and far more food on my shelves to last the winter.

            Sometimes we have to make decisions like that with souls.  Give not that which is holy to the dogs, nor cast your pearls before swine, Matt 7:6.  Who wants to make that judgment call?  And whosover shall not receive you nor hear your words…shake the dust off your feet, 10:14.  It is difficult to give up on someone you have invested a lot of time in, someone you have come to care about.  But sometimes our refusal to do so is costing many more souls out there the chance to hear and accept the word while we waste time on the stubborn and rebellious.

            Sometimes that decision must be made among ourselves too.  A little leaven leavens the whole lump, Paul warned about immorality in 1 Cor 5:7, and then used exactly the same warning about false doctrine in Gal 5:9.  If you know anything about cooking, you know that leaven is alive.  It may not be a fungus, but it creeps in exactly the same way and spreads.  No matter how small a chunk of it you use, that dough will suddenly react, and there is no going back when it does.  Speaking of false teachers in 2 Tim 2:17, Paul says, “Their word eats as does a gangrene.”  When gangrene eats away the flesh, it’s gone.

            Yes, we have to make these tough decisions, but I have seen some people make it with a little too much zest.  God never enjoyed it.  I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, He said, Ezek 33:11.  God would have all men to be saved, Paul says, 1 Tim 2:4, and Peter reminds us that God is not willing that any should perish, 2 Pet 3:9.  He waited a long time before He finally punished His people, and even then it was with anguish:  How shall I give you up…how shall I cast you off…my heart recoils within me, my compassion grows warm and tender, Hos 11:8. 

            God never meant for this decision to be easy, but sometimes it has to be made.  It isn’t compassion not to make it—it’s cowardice.  My medical book says that fungus spreads worst among very young children and those who are already ill.  We must look underneath those infected branches to see the reason for our decision—to save many more before they too are infected with a fatal disease.  The souls who were sacrificed in the arenas by the Roman persecution are depicted as asking God, How long until you will judge and avenge our blood? Rev 6:10.  Desperate souls may be out there asking us, How long are you going to waste time on the unwilling, when we want it so badly?”
 
"Rejoice with him, O heavens; bow down to him, all gods, for he avenges the blood of his children and takes vengeance on his adversaries. He repays those who hate him and cleanses his people's land." Deuteronomy 32:43
 
Dene Ward