We live on five acres, but do not have the equipment to handle it sometimes.  Most everything we have accomplished has been with a shovel, a wheelbarrow, and Keith’s strong back.  We certainly don’t have a  tractor to keep it manicured properly.  
             
We decided a few years ago that we had rather see some splashes of color
here and there instead of waist high green grass and assorted head high weeds, so we planted several cans of mixed wildflower seeds around the perimeter of the mown section.  The first year they did not do much, but the second year we had a nice showing of coreopsis, gaillardia, and gloriosa daisies. They come up again every spring and have even spread out into the field in a few places.
             
Four summers ago I started cutting the deadheads and scattering them
around.  I thought it might be nice to have some up by the gate to greet our guests and scattered a few up there.  The next year I had two orange firewheels, the more colloquial name for gaillardia. The year after that we had about six. Last year I quit counting at 20. They were so thick it was hard to tell
exactly how many there were—we’re talking plants, not blooms, which were many times more than 20.  I can hardly wait to see what happens this year.
             
You’ve seen deadheads. They are gray or brown, shriveled and dried up.  You would never think they had once been beautiful blooms or were any longer valuable at all. But “deadhead” is a most inaccurate name for them. Inside those ugly old blooms lay the potential for thousands more beautiful blooms.
             
Have you looked in the mirror lately?  Some of you are a lot younger than I,
but no matter how young you are, you are not as young as you used to be.  Someday you will be my age, and most of you will get even older than that. 
It’s easy these days, especially facing a major disability, to think that I am no longer useful in the kingdom. It’s easy to say that since I might not be able to get out much any more, that I cannot serve.  When you grow older, you will face the same feelings. If you are older, you may be facing them already.
             
But that is not the case. Just like those dried up flowers, you have the potential to reach thousands through your example. Maybe the only example you are able to give any more is faithfulness—but it is a powerful one, and always needed. You are there when the doors of the meetinghouse are opened if you can drag yourself out at all. Sometimes you are there when you ought not to be. You have been married for 40, 50, 60 years to the same husband or wife, and the devotion between you is still obvious. You sit quietly and never cause any trouble.  In Bible classes you make comments that show you have lived by the scriptures.  You have children who are faithful to God, to their mates, to the body of Christ, and who are good citizens of this earthly country as well.  Do you think none of that counts?
             
If you are young, you need to start making good use of these resources.  Too many times the young are stuck in the self-centered ways of youth, forgetting that older Christians have lived a life every bit as interesting as theirs. Get them to talking sometime about their past. You just might be amazed at what they have been through and survived;  things you will probably never face in these prosperous times. And you will find one of the helps God always intended you to have—the wisdom of the aged. I have learned more valuable lessons from quiet people with halos of silver hair than from any pulpit preacher I have ever listened to—and I have heard some pretty good ones.
             
Setting an example is not something we have a choice about. As long as we are alive we do just that.  And it may be the most powerful thing any of us do.  You are never shriveled, dried up and useless as far as God is concerned. 
You are always sowing seeds. Be sure you sow the right ones.

The hoary head is a crown of glory; it shall be found in the way of righteousness, Prov 16:31
 
Dene Ward  

Keith loves tomatoes, which accounts for the fact that we have 95 tomato plants in our garden. In the summer, his supper is not complete without a heaping platter of sliced tomatoes, assorted colors and varieties—Better Boy, Celebrity, Big Beef, Golden Girl, Golden Jubilee, Cherokee Purple—all full sized, some even the one-slicers: large enough for one slice to cover a piece of bread.

So when the first tomato ripened this year and he let me have the whole thing to myself everyone was amazed. “What a generous husband!” some exclaimed. Then I told them the rest of the story. It was a Sungold Cherry tomato, more like a grape tomato, less than an inch in diameter.

“What a generous husband!” they again exclaimed, with a slightly different inflection on the “generous.”

It was a joke and everyone knew it, including Keith. How sad that so many do not see the joke when it’s the tomato they’ve been offered.

Do you want wealth and fame? Here, have the whole tomato.

Do you want career, status and power? Here, enjoy this, it’s all yours.

Do you want pleasure of every kind, fun, and excitement? Here, it’s ripe and ready and yours for the taking. Eat every bite.

Isn’t life wonderful? Isn’t the world an amazing place? Isn’t the ruler of this world the most generous being there is? Don’t bet on it.

Look at the size of that tomato again. Now look at what you lose when you accept it: family, love, redemption, hope, your soul. My, how generous that offer was—one measly little bite that is gone in an instant for the price of everything eternal.

That tomato may taste pretty good. It may be the best one that ever grew in any garden anywhere. But I’d rather take my Father’s offer—He has a whole garden to give me.

And he showed me a river of water of life, bright as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the midst of the street thereof. And on this side of the river and on that was the tree of life, bearing twelve manner of fruits, yielding its fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. And there shall be no curse any more: and the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be therein: and his servants shall serve him; and they shall see his face; and his name shall be on their foreheads. And there shall be night no more; and they need no light of lamp, neither light of sun; for the Lord God shall give them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever, Revelation 22:1-5.

For what shall a man be profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and forfeit his life? or what shall a man give in exchange for his life? Matthew 16:26.

Dene Ward

 While I have kept three or four potted herbs on my steps for several years, it has only been a short while that I have grown an herb garden—two kinds of parsley, three kinds of basil, plus thyme, oregano, marjoram, dill, sage, cilantro, rosemary, fennel, mint, and chives.

I’m still learning some things the hard way. Dill must be planted in late fall because it cannot tolerate the heat of a Florida summer. Basil will stop growing when the weather cools, whether you protect it from the frost or not. Oregano is a ground runner and needs a lot of room. You must snip your chives from the bottom—not just trim off the tops—if you expect them to replenish. One recipe for pesto will decimate a basil plant for at least two weeks. Always give mint its own separate bed, or better still, pot, because it will take over the joint if you don’t.

And, Keith hates cilantro. Although I am not exactly sure how he knows this, he says it tastes “like stinkbugs.” We discovered this when I sprinkled chopped fresh cilantro over a turkey tortilla casserole. Now cilantro does have a distinctive flavor. While it bears a close physical resemblance to Italian flat-leaf parsley, the strongest flavored parsley, its flavor is probably ten times stronger than that herb. There IS such a thing as too much cilantro. On the other hand, a lot of people like it in moderation, including me. I guess there is no accounting for tastes.

 And that is why some people reject Jesus. To some people life tastes sweeter when we do things His way. The difficult times become easier to bear, and the good times more than we dared hope for. But other people see in Him a restrictive cage denying them all the pleasures of life. Their focus on the here and now keeps them from seeing the victory of Eternity, but even worse, they are blinded by Satan to the true joys a child of God can have in this life as well. …And exercise yourself unto godliness; for bodily exercise is profitable for a little, but godliness is profitable for all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. 1 Tim 4:7,8. We can have joy, peace, hope, love, and fellowship with both God and the best people on earth, while on this earth.

 But they just can’t see it. I guess to them, godliness tastes like stinkbugs. Truly, there is just no accounting for tastes.

For we are a sweet smell of Christ unto God, in them that are saved, and in them that perish; to the one a smell from death unto death, and to the other a smell from life unto life…2 Cor 2:15,16

Dene Ward

I don’t really know that much about plants.  I have killed my fair share of them, especially houseplants, but I salve my ego with the notion that it might be because the house is so dark.  In Florida, living under huge live oaks is good for the electric bill, not so good for anything inside that needs a sunny window.

I have learned the hard way what to do and what not to do.  Living in zone 9 means you make more mistakes than most about what will grow and what won’t.  It never dawned on me that there was such a thing as too warm a climate until the first time I planted tulip bulbs.  All those lovely spring flowers will never make it here without a lot of extra work, like digging them up and putting them in the freezer for awhile, and even then you can’t count on it.

We lived in South Carolina for three years and I could actually grow irises.  The first time I ordered them, I was stunned when they arrived—a bare hunk of root in a plastic bag.  Surely it was dead by now, I thought.  That was how I learned about rhizomes. 

Rhizomes are not ordinary roots, long and hairlike, growing out of the bottom of a stem.  They aren’t bulbs either.  They are long pieces of thick rootstock, sometimes called underground stems, which run horizontally under the plant, sending out numerous roots and even leaf buds from its upper surface.  That horizontal orientation also aids in propagation, as the roots spread underground and form more rhizomes from which more plants grow the next season.

Now think about that as you read this passage:  Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving, Colossians 2:6-7.  That word “rooted” is the Greek word rhizoomai.  I am not a Greek scholar but it doesn’t take one to see the connection between that word and “rhizome.”  I am told that its figurative meaning is “to become stable.”

It isn’t just that we are rooted downward in the faith with tiny hairlike roots.  Our faith is based in something that is strong, that can even withstand the rigors of being out of its milieu for awhile (like rootstock shipped in a plastic bag), that spreads out to others on a regular basis, and eventually grows into a whole support system.  Try to pull up an ordinary plant and you can usually do so without too much trouble.  Try to pull up a rhizome-based plant and you have to work at it awhile, in fact you may uproot half your yard trying to do so and still never get it all.

That sort of root takes awhile to develop.  It doesn’t happen overnight or without effort, and it won’t happen that way with you either.  You must work at it, but once you have, you will be far stronger than you ever imagined. 

You have to be connected to your brethren too, you can’t just “be a Christian,” one completely divorced from the Lord’s family, and think you will ever have that same sort of strength.  Rhizomes reach out, and so must we.  The only other choice is a fragile little root system that will die if it is uprooted for very long at all.

Build up…your most holy faith, Jude says, v 20, but build it down as well, rooting yourself with a strong rootstock that will not waver, despite the trials of life and the persecutions of the enemy.  Develop a rhizome and, in the words of Peter who told us how to supplement our faith, “you shall never fall” (2 Pet 1:5-10).

 And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, grounded and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard, which has been proclaimed in all creation under heaven…Colossians 1:21-23.

Dene Ward

We first encountered a coreopsis when we planted several packets of wildflowers and a few sprang up along the edge of our mown field.   These two foot high plants held bright yellow ray flowers on bare stalks above lance shaped leaves.  “Tickseed” I found as its colloquial name because its hard flat black fruit resembles a tick.

Although they still spring up here and there nearly ten years after that original planting, they are sparse and tend to congregate on the southern edge of the field, shining like the occasional light bulb in a sea of green grass and weeds.  They had just started blooming in early May when I spent my entire morning walk with Chloe talking to God about a particularly thorny issue.  I had just asked for what seemed impossible. 

It has taken me years to reach this point.  The church of my day spent nearly its entire existence fighting false doctrines, certainly a noble cause.  False teaching can steal souls as easily as the temptations of an increasingly carnal culture.  But we often forgot to balance those teachings with the truth, jumping far beyond it to a place of certain safety, where we were so far from the ravenous wolf in sheep’s clothing that we fell into the pit of despair instead.  Yes, miracles have ceased, but that doesn’t mean that God no longer works in the world or that my prayers will not be answered.  Yes, the Holy Spirit operates through the Word He inspired, but that doesn’t meant that I will not receive help from an avenue He has set in motion.  Providence, we call all of those things—normal natural occurrences that seem to come at the most opportune times.

And so I was walking along the path, pulling my way with those now ubiquitous trekking poles of mine, along the back fence, probably fifty feet from the nearest--and loneliest--coreopsis, turning on its southwest side by a stretch where we had sown none of them, and none had ever before appeared.  When things do spread, they always go north-northwest, certainly never south, especially in the summer.  Yet suddenly, right there before me stood a bright yellow beacon where it should not have been.  It was so unexpected I came to a complete halt and called Chloe over, as if she too should have cared.  Coming as it did so surprisingly, just after that impossible request, I was instantly reminded that God can do the impossible, and my spirits soared.

No, I am not a mystic, or a believer in such things.  But I am reminded of a sermon Jesus preached once, where it seems he glanced up and surely must have seen a flock of birds on the wing, so he said, “Behold the birds of the heavens,” and a few minutes later when he surely must have seen a nearby patch of flowers and said, “Consider the lilies of the field.”  Jesus had no problem at all using the natural world to teach His lessons.  Why can’t I use the natural world to remind me of lessons I need at a particular time?

I have a friend who loves butterflies.  As she endures cancer treatment she often says, “God sent me a butterfly today.”  She had looked outside and seen one flitting around in her flowerbeds.  That butterfly reminded her that God cares for her, just as Jesus reminds us, Look at the birds of the heavens, that they sow not, neither do they reap nor gather into barns, and your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are not you of much more value than they? Matt 6:26. 

God has created an amazing natural world to teach us if we will but pay attention.  Solomon used that natural world in the wisdom God gave him.  And he spoke three thousand proverbs; and his songs were a thousand and five. And he spoke of trees, from the cedar that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springs out of the wall; he spoke also of beasts, and of birds, and of creeping things, and of fishes. 1 Kings 4:32-33.  If we deny this creation of God its ability to edify and encourage, how are we any different from the pagan who denies that it proves God’s very existence in the first place?

Pay attention to what lies outside your door today, the birds and lilies, the butterflies and the out of place, bright yellow coreopsis.  As it turns out, God did answer my impossible prayer that day, in almost exactly the way I had asked.  Who am I to try to explain that away?

Jesus looked at them and said, "With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God," Mark 10:27

Dene Ward

 

A few years ago Keith dug up a plant he found out in the field far from the house, surrounded by stinging nettles and poison ivy.  He had thought it looked like something besides another weed.  When I rubbed the leaves between my fingers and sniffed, I discovered it was spearmint.  So I potted it and put it next to my herb bed, where it comes in handy every so often, and grows so bountifully I have to give it a haircut once in awhile.

Imagine finding a useful herb in the middle of a patch of useless, annoying, and even dangerous weeds.  I thought of that mint plant a few days ago when we studied Rahab in one of my classes.  I have written about her before, and you can read that article in the Bible people category to your right, “The Scarlet Woman and Her Scarlet Cord,” but something new struck my mind in this latest discussion. 

God told Abraham his descendants would not receive their land inheritance for another 400 years because “the iniquity of the Amorite is not yet full,” Gen 15:13-16.  The people of Canaan, the Promised Land, were not yet so wicked that God was ready to destroy them, but the time was coming. 

If there is a Bible definition for “total depravity” perhaps that is it:  “when their iniquity is full.”  That had happened before in the book of Genesis—to Sodom in Genesis 19, and to the whole world in Genesis 6 when God saw that “every intention of the thoughts of [man’s] heart was only evil continually” (v 5), another fine definition for total depravity.

Both times God brought about a complete destruction—except for a tiny remnant that we can count on our fingers in each instance. That means that when God finally brought the Israelites into their land, the Canaanites’ iniquity was “full” and those people must have been every bit as wicked as the people of Sodom and the world in general in Noah’s day. 

Yet right in the middle of Jericho, the first city to be conquered, a harlot believed in Jehovah God.  A harlot.  Would you have bothered speaking to her if she were your neighbor, much less invited her to a Bible study?  But she outshone even the people of God in a way that made God take notice of her.

Thirty-eight years before, when those first 12 spies came back from their scouting expedition in Numbers 13, ten of them, the vast majority, gave a fearful report.  Look at the words they used:  “we are not able;” “they are stronger than us.”  Look at the words Rahab used when she spoke to the two later spies:  “I know the Lord has given you the land;” “our hearts melted and there was no spirit left in any man…because the Lord your God he is God.”  The earlier Israelites raised “a loud cry,” “wept all night,” and “grumbled against Moses and Aaron” (Num 14:1-4).  Rahab sent the spies safely on their way and hung a scarlet cord in her window, patiently waiting for the deliverance promised by two men she had never seen before in her life, but whose God she had grown to believe in with all her heart.  The difference is startling.  If you didn’t know anything but their words and actions, which would you think were children of God?

And a woman like this lived in a place determined for destruction because its iniquity was “full,” plying a trade we despise, living a life of moral degradation as a matter of course.

Who lives in your neighborhood?  What kind of lives do they lead?  Rahab had heard about the God of Israel for forty years (Josh 2:10), assuming she was that old—if not, then all her life.  Have your neighbors heard about your God?  Have they seen Him in your actions, in your interactions, and in your absolute assurance that He is and that He cares for you, even when life deals you a blow?

Do your words sound like the faithless Israelites’ or like the faithful prostitute’s?  Would God transplant you out of the weeds into the herb garden, or dig you up and throw you out among the thorns and nettles where a useless plant belongs?

Don’t count on the fact that you aren’t a harlot.

Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” Luke 18:10-14.

Dene Ward

“Mommy, those green blackberries burnt my mouth.”

We were picking peas in a field behind a member’s farmhouse late one afternoon.  We had just moved to the area and had not had time to plant our own garden, so we were happy to do all the free U-picks our brethren offered.  Nathan, who was only 13 months old, was playing up at the house under the watchful care of the grandmotherly farmwife.  Three year old Lucas wanted to come “help,” so he trailed along behind us, picking a pea pod every so often, but usually exploring.

It took a minute for what he had said to register.  Then, with a knot of fear growing in my stomach, I calmly asked, “What blackberries?  Show me.” 

He led us back about twenty feet, to a place in the fencerow.  Instead of blackberry vines, we saw a four foot high green plant, with spade-shaped leaves and round green berries—nightshade.  We dropped our buckets, pulled the plant, scooped him up, and headed for the nearest emergency room, thirty miles east.  As soon as we arrived, Keith dropped me at the door.  I ran in and practically threw both Lucas and the plant on the registration desk. 

“My baby ate this,” I managed between gasps.

I had found the trick to immediate action in an emergency room.  They ran both him and the plant back behind the swinging doors.  I, of course, was taken to Paperwork Central—they never forget the documentation so they will be paid.  It probably did not help that I had come straight from the field, sweat, dirt, and all, and so did not look particularly solvent.

Two hours later we left with a completely sobered three- year-old, promising us he would never eat green blackberries again.  As far as I know, he hasn’t!

So why are we so much less careful about the poison that sickens our souls?  Spiritual nightshade surrounds us every day of our lives.  Somehow we think we are immune to its effects.  We go places we should not, associate with people we should not, dally with things that are as dangerous as a poisonous snake, and pooh-pooh anyone who dares tell us to be careful.

I am not just talking about things like alcohol and sexual immorality.  Do you realize that wealth in the scriptures is never pictured as anything but dangerous to our souls?  But what do we wish for when the subject of wishes comes up?  And what do we always say?  “I could handle it.  I would never use it the wrong way.  It would never get the best of me.”  What do we tell our young people when they say the same things about drugs and alcohol? 

Arrogance will always get the best of us in all these cases.  Might as well handle a cobra.  Might as well drink some cyanide. 

Might as well eat a pie made of green blackberries.

For [the] rock [of the wicked] is not as our Rock...For their vine is of the vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah; their grapes are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter.  Their wine is the poison of serpents and the cruel venom of asps, Deut 32:31-33.

Dene Ward

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.

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

(For this recipe, go to "Dene's Recipes" page)

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

It’s just beginning to bloom again, covered with buds as thick as deep pile carpeting…

Six years ago we planted a jasmine vine.  I had always wanted one twining up a trellis by the side of my porch, but being married to a man with allergies made that impossible.  That summer, though, he wanted to do anything and everything for me, at least the small things we could afford, so he bought me a jasmine vine.  It is not by the porch—I wouldn’t let him suffer just for my sake--so it is next to the drive about seventy-five feet away from the house. 

He built one lollapalooza of a trellis out of a cow panel and an antenna mast.  It stands about fifteen feet in the air.  In just two years that dark green vine has grown up and over the top and this time of year is covered with tiny, white blossoms.  And the fragrance!  When the wind is right, you can smell it fifty feet away.  I would know it was there whether I could see it or not—which one day may be important.

I think I would like to be like a jasmine—vines trailing out everywhere, winding in and out of the squares of its “trellis,” covered in beautiful blooms, and sending out a sweet smell that tells everyone it is there, even when they cannot otherwise see it.  But when I look in “the mirror” I am a long way from that ideal, much pruning and fertilizing still to be done. 

If I am going to effect others I need to involve myself with them, whether it is convenient or not.  If I am to present a beautiful picture to them, I need to follow in the footsteps of my Savior, who served others to the ultimate degree.  If I am to influence those who do not know me, I must influence those who do by an example of love, longsuffering, and faith that continues on even in the face of trials. 

The only way to accomplish all of that is to constantly fill myself with His word, to talk with Him often, to make others the center of my life rather than myself, to watch that tongue of mine!  I must give with no thought of reciprocity from others; give of myself, of my time, of my labor, of my care and consideration, regardless of what others may do. 

The more I look at this, the more I think I will never make it.  But God has made a jasmine vine, a gift from a man who can hardly tolerate them due to the physical discomfort they cause him, yet who gave it nevertheless.  That is my inspiration.  Every time I walk past it, its sweet fragrance reminds me to pray for help and, in praying, have faith that I will receive.

I will heal their backsliding; I will love them freely, for my anger is turned away from them.  I will be as the dew unto Israel; he shall blossom as the lily and cast forth his roots as Lebanon.  His branches shall spread and his beauty shall be as the olive-tree, and his smell as Lebanon.  They that dwell under his shadow shall return; they shall revive as the grain and blossom as the vine; the scent of it shall be as the wine of Lebanon…Who is wise that he may understand these things?  Prudent that he may know them?  For the ways of Jehovah are right, and the just shall walk in them; but transgressors shall fall therein.  Hosea 14:4-7,9

Dene Ward