Peter still didn’t get it.

            "Lord, do you wash my feet?"

            Jesus answered him, "What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand."

            Peter said to him, "You shall never wash my feet."

            Jesus answered him, "If I do not wash you, you have no share with me."

            Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" (John 13:6-9)

            Typical Peter, we always say, always overdoing it.  No, he didn’t overdo it.  He didn’t go far enough, in fact.  None of them did.  Not a one of them said, “No, Lord.  We ought to be washing YOUR feet.”           

            It wasn’t that difficult a concept.  Two women had already figured it out, one identified as “a sinful woman” in Luke 7, and then Mary, Lazarus’s sister, in John 12. 

            One of those apostles should have said, “Why didn’t we think of that?” but none of them did, not even the three from that inner circle.  If ever they failed to show their understanding of who Jesus really was, it was that night in the upper room.  In fact, instead of serving him as Mary did a few days earlier, they all, not just Judas, resented the fact that so much was spent on that very gesture (Matt 26:8).

            But just a few weeks later—“afterward,” as Jesus had said--they did get it.  All of them, even that apostle born out of season, figured out what service and humility meant.  For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake, 2 Cor 4:5.  Paul and all the others except John were ultimately martyred in their service to the Lord, along the way serving others at huge costs.  They washed their Lord’s feet, not with water, but with their own blood.

            Do we get it?  Do we understand humility, or is saving face more important?  Can we give it all up for Christ, or do our opinions and think-sos matter more than the body for which he died?  Can we subject ourselves, our preferences, our goods, even our lifestyles to others for their souls’ sakes, 1 Cor 9:20-22? 

            I once spoke about subjection at a women’s meeting.  As I was giving an illustration one of the women spoke out loud for all to hear, “That’s where I draw the line.”  No, we were not discussing Acts 5:29 where such a statement would have been appropriate.  We were just talking about sacrificing for others.  Yet she wasn’t even embarrassed to say such a thing.  She obviously didn’t get it.   If she had been next to Peter that horrible night, she would have been happy to sit back and let the Lord wait on her, as long as the water wasn’t too hot and the towel was nice and soft.

            Consider this thought for a moment: what would I have done that night?  Would I have gone at least as far as Peter and the rest, and let the Lord wash my feet, learning the whole lesson eventually?  Or would I have already been there with my pan in hand, as those two other women had been, ready to wait on him and his disciples, anxious to show my devotion to my Lord and Master? 

            Now take it a step farther:  what am I willing to do today?  Am I willing to wash feet, not just with time, effort, and money, but with my own blood?  If we would draw a line anywhere, Satan will make sure we come face to face with that line sometime in our lives.
 
Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven--for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little." And he said to her, "Your sins are forgiven." Luke 7:44-48.
 
Dene Ward
 

A couple of years ago when I went to a local garden shop to buy another rosemary plant, I learned something more about these herbs I have grown so fond of.

              “Which kind would you like?” the woman said, “prostrate or erect?”

              That was the first I had ever heard of two types of rosemary.  Finally I knew why the rosemary plants in my favorite TV cook’s garden stood so straight, while mine just splayed out like they were tired all the time.  I bought an erect rosemary, the first I had ever had, and you can certainly tell the difference as the two plants bed side by side.

              After only a little contemplation I realized those are exactly the same two types of people—those who try to stand on their own, unwilling to yield to the will of God, and those who prostrate themselves before him in an attitude of worshipful submission.

              We seldom actually fall prostrate before God these days.  The closest I remember seeing this was when I was a small child and some of the men knelt or sat back on their haunches in the aisles, one knee up to hold an elbow during public prayers at church, something I even remember my Daddy doing.  Most of us are too self-conscious to do that sort of thing now.  If someone tried it he might be accused of “praying for show.”  I’ve heard similar things in the not too distant past as we so Pharisaically try to rid ourselves of Phariseeism. 

              Surely, though, we have all reached a point of despair in our lives when we simply throw ourselves on the bed or the floor and lay ourselves and our problems before God.  While it certainly isn’t the outward posture that makes the prayer acceptable to God, one can’t help wondering if a refusal to ever “fall prostrate” doesn’t expose a heart that will not fall prostrate either.

              One of the definitions of “worship” is exactly that:  to fall prostrate before.  We are not truly worshiping if our hearts do not recognize the absolute sovereignty of God and our utter dependence upon him for both physical and spiritual survival.  That dependence, that prostrate attitude, must be accompanied by instant and total obedience.  Too many today think they can “worship” on Sundays with weekday lifestyles that never come close to the one Jesus expected of his followers.  When our choices follow the choices of the world, it is the Prince of the World we are falling prostrate before, not God. 

              This morning I stretched out the limbs of my prostrate rosemary to their full length and they actually reached higher than the erect one.  Isn’t that true of a person who prostrates himself before God?  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses that the power of Christ may rest upon me…for when I am weak, then I am strong, 2 Cor 12: 9,10.

              So think today about the two types of rosemary. Which one are you?  The one who insists on reaching for the stars on his own, or the one who depends upon the Creator of those stars to help him reach his full potential, trusting and obeying implicitly?  Even the erect rosemarys will some day fall on their faces before the King of all:  As I live, says the Lord, to me every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall confess to God, Rom 14:11.  It would be a whole lot better to do it before you are forced to.
 
And all the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying, "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen." Rev 7:11-12     
 
Dene Ward

When we first moved here, nearly 32 years ago, I knew I wanted azaleas around the house.  And I wanted as many different colors as possible--none of this all white or all purple or all pink business.  We planted about two dozen and once they started blooming, I discovered why some people stick with one type and color—they all bloom at once that way.  You don’t have spots of color here and there, with blank, green places in the middle of the row.  So I have learned to live with those spaces, and to accept that some will bloom before others—first the white and the coral pink, followed by the lilac and pale pink, then the red and purple, and finally the bubble gum pinks, the two that frame the front door.  I was a little disappointed at first, but it no longer bothers me.  This is just the way it is when you have different varieties of azalea.

            That’s the way it is when you have different people in the body of Christ as well.  None of us are at exactly the same stages in our growth.  Sometimes it is because we are just starting and have little or no background in the scriptures.  Sometimes it is because we have brought a lot of mistaken beliefs to the table that we have to overcome.  And some of us are just a little slower than others to grasp new ideas, either from lack of comprehension or cautious skepticism.

            God never expected us all to be in the same place at the same time.  He spent quite a few chapters in the New Testament epistles telling us to respect one another regardless.  Jesus told a whole parable about accepting the late-comers without resentment.  After all, who is accepted is God’s business not ours. 

            Some of us seem to have a problem with this.  I have heard far too many comments about “them” lately, referring to the ones we see as holding us back.  It usually comes in a tone of disdain, while making of ourselves some elite spiritually mature group that ought to be looked up to and heeded automatically.  After all, look how much more knowledgeable we are.  The epistles talk a lot about that attitude too.  Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant, (1 Cor 13:4), comes quickly to mind.  We all know the word “longsuffering,” but we seem to ignore the “long” and home in on the “suffering,” which we don’t think we have to do for “them”--and which, of course, no one ever has to do for us.  After all, “they” are the ones holding back the progress of the gospel, while "we" are God's gift to the church.

            Truth to be told, when stubborn self-will enters the picture, that may be the case.  In that instance, the wisdom of the elders decides when it is time to move on, even if some get left behind—or in fact, leave.  That is why we have those men—to be strong enough to make those unpopular decisions and wise enough to know when to. 

            Far more often, God expects us to “wait for one another” in all its various applications.  He expects us not to “set at nought” the one who just can’t quite get it yet.  Check your other translations of Rom 14:3.  That phrase means to despise, to disrespect, and to count as nothing.  It means we think his opinion is worthless.  The words may not have been used, but the contempt in them says exactly the same thing.

            God would certainly expect better of those who are supposedly so much more advanced.  Of all people, they should be tolerant with the many varieties of azalea among us.  We all bloom in our own time.  We are all beautiful to God, if not to each other.  As long as everyone is striving to grow and serve the Lord to the best of their abilities, we are all equal in God’s eyes, and certainly should be to one another.
 
Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand...Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God; for it is written, "As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God." So then each of us will give an account of himself to God, Rom 14:4,10-12.
 
Dene Ward

We had been unhappy with our griddle for a good while, so Keith went online shopping and found an appliance called a Griddler, put out by Cuisinart.  This little contraption with two heating elements that can either lie flat next to each other or fold over on each other, and with four interchangeable plates, two of which are double-sided, can be a panini press, a grill pan, a waffle iron, or it can be opened flat and used as a griddle.

              It does have a few disadvantages.  Because of the two separate plates with an inch space between them, you can only fit four pancakes on it at once instead of six, but there are only two of us so that's no problem.  It seems to take longer for the pancakes to cook, too.  However, the panini we get are amazingly crisp and with the grill plates, you can grill both sides at once, making that process much faster. 

              The plates—flat, grill-marked, and waffled—are nonstick.  Boy, are they nonstick.  You want to know how I found out?

              When I pour pancake batter on this thing, I have no trouble at all.  Maybe it is because they immediately begin to cook and the batter is thick enough not to run.  But eggs are another thing entirely.  Evidently the side that is the "top" if you fold it, does not sit exactly flat when opened up.  It looks close enough that I did not realize that.

              One day we decided to have breakfast for dinner.  I preheated the pan and, just because my husband likes it that way, I put a teaspoon of bacon grease on the already slick surface.  Then I poured on the raw eggs. 

              Immediately the eggs slid over to the side of the pan.  Before I could move, one had slid onto the counter and down onto the floor—splat!--between my feet.  I managed by then to get my flipper flat end standing on the surface of the pan at the rim, but that didn't stop it fast enough.  All the eggs kept sliding, building up around my flipper edge until they started oozing around the sides of it and headed for the fall once again.  I grabbed another flipper and stood it up on the rim of the pan next to the first one to catch a larger portion of the running egg whites.

              Meanwhile, I started hollering, probably nothing intelligible.  At this point I was straddling one egg and holding two flippers erect trying to keep the rest of the eggs on the pan.  Keith came running and saw what was happening.  He grabbed some paper towels and knelt down between my feet to clean up the floor.  That meant I had to squat a bit to fit his shoulders in there.  I wish I had a picture—but then, maybe not.  Finally I could actually move my feet without stepping into eggs and sliding across the floor.  He grabbed one of the flippers while I raked a little of the now cooked egg white back from the lip of the pan with the other and made a nice little dam.  Another minute and I could flip the eggs over and they actually stayed put.

              We stepped back, a little winded, shaking our heads at what had just happened.  The two of us working together meant we had only lost one egg and, believe it or not, the others were cooked perfectly.

              Now imagine if he had looked over, seen what was happening and said, "That was a stupid thing to do."

              Or, "If you hadn't poured them out so quickly that wouldn't have happened."

              Or, "That's your job not mine."

              Or, "Someone else will take care of it."

              Or, "That's not my talent," and hadn't lifted a finger to help.

           We wouldn't have had dinner, and we would have probably lost far more than one egg.

           Too bad that's what happens in the church too often.  And it's deplorable that too often in our judgmental, self-serving apathy we lose far more than one soul-less little egg.
 
Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. (Eph 4:15-16)
 
Dene Ward

I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. Phil 4:11
 
            As many times as I have read that verse it has only been recently that I noticed something about it.  Some people seem content whereas others are never satisfied, always ambitious, trying to fly higher, live higher, and be higher than they are at any given moment.  It’s just a basic personality difference, right?  No, Paul says that contentment is something you learn.
 
           Paul was certainly on the fast track that day as he walked toward Damascus.  He had had a prestigious education and was highly esteemed by the Jewish leadership even as a young man.  He almost certainly would have wound up on the Sanhedrin and lived life in at least the upper middle classes if not the aristocratic upper class.  And he gave it all up.  But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, Phil 3:7-9.
 
           So how did he learn to be content with less money, less comfort, less esteem, less of just about everything than he had planned and expected out of life?  He tells us himself.
 
           Paul rejoiced, not in fame and fortune, but in the Lord (3:7; 4:4).  He found happiness in his relationship with God and Christ, and with the knowledge of his salvation.  That is also why he considered dying to be “gain” (1:21).  Is there anything that should cause us more joy than knowing we will live with our God for eternity?  And being happy is perhaps the greatest key to contentment.
 
           He used the avenue of prayer (4:6,7).  That prayer gave him peace of mind because he was no longer anxious.  He had turned everything over to God and trusted him to provide.  It is easier to be content when you know someone else is in control.
 
           He was careful what he thought about (4:8).  I learned a long time ago to avoid looking at house plans and stop walking through model homes.  I never window shop for things I cannot afford anyway.  I never indulge in “What if I won a million dollars?” daydreams.  Those things don’t bother some people, but they are exactly the kinds of things that make me discontent.  As long as I avoid doing those things I am perfectly happy with my life.  What kinds of things do you need to avoid thinking about?   Fill your mind instead with Paul’s list:  whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
 
           Paul learned the lessons that life had to teach him (4:12).  Too many times we go through situations and events, completely missing the abundance of wisdom we could be learning and stowing away for the future.  We may be going through a particular trial for exactly that reason—God wants us to learn something.  Maybe it’s learning the relative importance of things.  Maybe it’s how to handle a problem so we can help others later on who have the same trial.  Pay attention to what’s happening and use it to grow, not to fail the test of faith.  When you know there’s a reason, even if you cannot figure out exactly what it is, it is much easier to be content.

            Paul also took advantage of the help he was given, not just any help, but Divine help.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me, (4:13).  With that kind of help you can learn to handle anything, or don’t you believe Christ is more powerful than the devil?  It’s one or the other.

            Paul tells us that we can learn the same contentment he had.  What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me--practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you, (4:9).  He says you can do it.  He says I can do it.  We can all learn to be content no matter what life throws at us, and in that learning, gain the peace that only the God of peace can give.
 
Now there is great gain in godliness with contentment, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content, 1 Tim 6:6-8.
 
Dene Ward

Shortly after we married, my new husband informed me that to be a real Ward I needed to learn to play pinochle.  Pinochle marathons were standard family entertainment throughout the whole clan.  So he patiently taught me one of the most confusing games I ever learned how to play.

            First, you only played with part of the deck—nothing below tens.  Second, the ten was higher than the king.  What?  Who ever heard of such a thing?  Plus, you played with two sets of each suit, not one.  And that was just the beginning.

            There were two point systems you had to learn, how to count meld and how to count the playoff.  A jack in every suit was worth 4 points in the meld, but if you wound up with all of them after the playoff they were worth nothing.  Two kings in every suit were worth 80 points meld, but was not a particularly good thing to have in your hand.  You wound up giving about half of them to the other team—four points lost in the playoff.  A “pinochle,” from which the game gets its name, is a queen of spades with a jack of diamonds.  If you have one, it’s worth 4 meld points.  A double pinochle is worth, not 8, but 30 points, far more than triple the single.  Yet a triple pinochle is worth 90, exactly triple the double.  And in the playoff?  All three are worth nothing!

            And the bidding!  Figuring out how high to bid, especially when your partner was bidding too, was nerve wracking.  You practically had to learn a secret language.  Standard opening bid was 50.  If you were the one who opened and you said 55, it meant you had 50 meld points and you did NOT want to call trump.  If you had an ace in every suit plus another 20 points meld, you said “3,” which really meant “53,” unless someone bid before you, in which case you added three to his bid and left off the “fifty.”  Once you passed 60, you had to increase your bid by fives.

            And then there was the trump suit, which only the winning bidder could call, and he usually called his strongest suit, which was often his longest suit too, but not necessarily, because you could only count the meld points for a run in the trump suit, and if your meld was low, that was more important than how many were in the suit. 

            Here is the important thing about trumps:  a trump card, even just a jack, beat anything else in the other suits, including aces.

            Sometimes Christians stoop to playing what they believe is the trump card.  “That offends me,” has become the sure-fire way to get what you want when others want something else.  I wonder if people would do that if they realized what they were saying about themselves.

            First, “offend,” sometimes translated “stumble,” doesn’t mean “I don’t like it,” or, “That hurt my feelings.”  It means “to sin.”  If you are being offended, you are sinning.  That’s what the Greek word means, and that is why Jesus said if your hand “offends” you it would be better to cut it off than to go into hell with both hands.  You are much better off without anything that causes you to sin.  So if you are going to use “the trump card” you must admit that you are actively sinning about the issue under discussion.

            Second, the strong must always yield to the weak, so if you expect everyone to yield to you, then you must admit that you are the weaker, less knowledgeable brother.  I have yet to see any of my troublemaking brethren admit any such thing.  God was eminently wise (are we surprised?) to put it exactly that way—the strong must always yield to the weak.  Who is going to stand up and say, “I am weak and ignorant?”  No, everyone will want to be the wise one, whether he is or not, and thus everyone will be yielding to everyone else--at least that is the way it is supposed to work.

            So the next time you get your ego out of joint, or your feelings hurt, or you find yourself wanting things done your way and only your way because, after all, you are smarter than everyone else, remember those two things.  “That offends me” may be a trump card, but you only get to play that card if you admit that you are sinning and that you are weak and ignorant of the scriptures.  Any takers?
 
We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, "The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me." Rom 15:1-3
 
Dene Ward

Magdi has been gone 10 months.  She was definitely the dominant dog.  She made sure Chloe knew it with a couple of painful lessons.  Once that was established they got along fine.  Sometimes Magdi snapped impatiently, but most of the time they played well together.  Though Magdi would have been loathe to admit it, Chloe kept her active longer as the arthritis set into her hips in her last two years.  She couldn’t have that little whippersnapper outdoing her.

            But we have seen the effects of Magdi’s domination since she died.  When people come to visit, Chloe hides.  Even from children, Chloe hides.  If we happen to be swatting at a fly, she runs for cover.  She will sit next to us for only a brief amount of time, then she is off to herself somewhere across the yard because that was always Magdi’s spot.  In spite of our diligent efforts to treat them the same, Magdi definitely taught Chloe her place.

            We thought about another companion for Chloe, but decided it was not a good idea.  She would immediately become submissive again because that is all she knows.  She needed time to become “her own dog,” and to know that this was her territory to defend.

            Things are coming along, but slowly.  She has started digging up moles in the yard.  She did this before, but Magdi always took them away from her.  When she dug up the first one after Magdi died, she left it for her.  Now she knows it’s hers to do with as she pleases.  This year the moles have made our yard look like a topographical map, so we are happy to let her do it, even if it means we need to fill in the holes, and we encourage her every time we come across a tunnel. 

            The neighbor walked his dogs the other day-- two huge Great Danes loping along the fence line like a couple of horses.  Chloe wouldn’t go to the fence to challenge them as she used to do with Magdi, but instead of hiding under the porch as she has since Magdi died, she sat out on a raised mound and actually barked at them.  Last week some repairmen came.  She went out to the road and barked at the truck!  The next day when guests came, she hid under the porch again.  Oh well, progress is often measured in inches instead of miles.

            This morning she walked up to the gate with me.  There on the other side was another dog sniffing the ground as dogs do, checking to see who had been around lately and whether this was a place he could claim as his own.  I stopped to see what would happen.  Instantly Chloe’s ears popped up.  She straightened her stance and her tail stood at attention.  A low growl began to erupt from deep within her chest, and before I realized what was happening, she spun out, charging the gate with a ferocious bark.  That other dog took one look and hightailed it back up the road to his own place, the place Chloe had just put him in with her vigorous defense of her people and her property.

            No, it doesn’t mean that things are suddenly right.  She still has a long way to go, but she is doing better.  We showed her that it was her job, and she has stepped up to the plate, at least once in awhile.  There may be things she can never do as well as Magdi did, but there are things she can do even better—like hear the moles in the ground and dig them up. 

            Haven’t you known a young man who had to follow in the footsteps of a dominant father, one who accomplished much and had many admirers, a young man who thought he could never do the same, and so quit trying?  It’s our fault when that happens.  We expected him to be his father instead of being who he was.  It may very well be that the man he is can do other things equally well, or better, but our expectations have kept him from even discovering those things. 

            And so in the family of God, as each generation comes along, it is our duty to teach them “the ropes.” Excuse my mixed metaphors, but it is also our duty to step out of the way and pass the torch.  No, we don’t put old men out to pasture.  If they can still teach or sing or preach or pray, then they need to do that.  They have an obligation to God to do that as long as they are able.  But we must also allow the next generation time to grow, time to make a few mistakes and learn from them, time to become their own men in the Lord.

            “Passing the torch” takes humility.  You know you are better so you keep it and run another mile.  Meanwhile, that young man, the one with fresher legs, gets no experience, no on-the-job training, and no encouragement.  Then, when the old men are gone, he can do nothing.  Or perhaps worse, he believes that the things he can do don’t count for anything.  Where is the wisdom in that?

            Being a young, or inexperienced man takes humility too.  Those men before you know what they are talking about when they give you advice.  Listen to them.  You will not match their prowess at the beginning, but with their help and God’s help and your own hard work, you can be every bit the men of God they are.  And by the way, the same goes for the women in the church too.
 
I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young men, because you have overcome the evil one…I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one, 1 John 2:13-14.
 
Dene Ward

I know—if you are not a musician you don’t know what I am talking about, but it really is 101—basic and easy.

            “Diatonic” means “two tones.”  A diatonic scale is made up of two kinds of tones—whole tones and semitones, or more commonly, whole steps and half steps.  As Occidentals, the diatonic scale is the most pleasing tone to our ear.  Try using a scale of only whole steps and it will set your teeth on edge.  My students used to call it “outer space music.”  Try making music with a half step scale and it will sound like you’ve let a hive of bumblebees loose in the room.  The point is, it takes two kinds of steps to make pleasant music.

            As humans we have a tendency to see “two kinds” in practically every situation and to do our best to make it NOT work.  In the early church when everyone was Jewish, they still managed to make a distinction between Jews born in Palestine and those born elsewhere (Acts 6).  Once Gentiles were converted, the distinction was circumcision (Acts 15).  If that weren’t enough, the bias became wealth (James 2), and then the full blown heresy of Gnosticism (1 John)—those who “knew” things others did not.

            “You’re not like us so you don’t belong,” was the attitude.  “Change or leave,” was often unspoken but surely intended, and if change was not possible, then leaving was the obvious “choice.”

            Paul spent several chapters in several epistles reminding us that while we are to repent (change) from a life of sin, no other change was required.  In fact, our differences make us a stronger, better body.

            But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you."…But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. 1 Cor 12:18-21,24,25.

            What I cannot do, maybe you can.  What you can’t, maybe I or someone else can.  Every ability is important and thus every person.  In fact, we have a tendency to judge differently than God does in that area.  As we have noted before, it was a woman who sewed for the poor whom Peter raised from the dead (Act 9), not the martyred preacher deacon (Acts 7) or apostle and cousin of the Lord (Acts 12).

            God expects us to live together, love together, and work together in harmony.  Rich and poor, Jew and Gentile, black and white, we are to make beautiful diatonic music together, not segregate ourselves into uniform groups that can only make weird sounds, sounds only fit for aliens, and not for the friends and neighbors we hope to save.
 
For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus, Gal 3:27,28.
 
Dene Ward

Many years ago we were in a discussion with a group of Christians about the word “temptation” when Keith mentioned that “tempt” by its very definition means a possibility of and a desire to give in to that temptation.  No one wanted to accept that statement, probably because we all want to believe that we don’t want to sin.  We happened to know a certain brother’s dessert preferences because we had often eaten with that couple, and suddenly the solution came to me.
 
           “Bill cannot be tempted off his diet by a coconut cream pie,” I said.  “He cannot be tempted that way because he hates coconut.  Maybe chocolate, but not coconut.”  Click!  The light bulb went on for practically everyone.  Suddenly they understood what it meant to be tempted. 

            That understanding can lead to all sorts of discussions and get you into some deep water, but consider this one thing with me this morning.  I was “raised in the church,” as we often put it.  I had parents who taught me right from wrong in no uncertain terms.  Frankly, I have never even been tempted by most of the “moral” sins out there in the world.  I know a lot of others in the same situation.  But that doesn’t make us any better than someone who has just recently given his life to the Lord.  I am afraid that sometimes we think it does make us better.  When a young Christian tells me that older Christians look down on him when he says he still struggles with sin, I know we think so.

            Yet how does the fact that you have never struggled with a certain sin make you stronger than one who does?  In fact, since you have never struggled with it, how do you know you could win the fight at all?  There may be other temptations that cause us to fall, and not needing to fight one doesn’t mean we would be any better at fighting others.

            It only shows how weak we are when we pride ourselves on the fact that we have never been tempted in certain areas.  Ironically, that very feeling is our weakness, the thing that tempts us, and the thing in which we usually fail--pride, self-righteousness, unjust judgment, and a failure to love as we ought.

            What is your coconut cream pie?  What distaste keeps you from even being tempted in one area, and as a result, makes you fail the test of humility?  I might have to have a piece of pie while I think about it.
 
 And he spoke also this parable unto certain who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and set all others at nought: Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican.  The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank you, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I get. But the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me a sinner. I say unto you, This man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalts himself shall be humbled; but he that humbles himself shall be exalted, Luke 18:9-14.   
 
Dene Ward

We visited our son a couple of months ago—the bachelor son.  He always spends nearly a full day cleaning before we arrive.  I know it’s true—you can smell the pines, the lemons, and the bleach when you walk in the door.  The vacuum, the broom, and the mop are usually still standing in the corner.  The bed is made with fresh, crisp sheets and his best towels hang in the bathroom.  He has obviously worked hard.

              But he is a man.  Some things he just doesn’t see or even think to look for.  I was loading the dishwasher one morning and after rinsing a plate my eyes fell on the window sill.  A layer of dust coated it, which, being in the kitchen where cooking grease rises in the steam and settles with an adhesive and almost audible thump, couldn’t just be quickly wiped away. 

              That evening when I stepped out of the shower, I saw the top of the baseboards.  And that’s when it hit me.  What about my baseboards?  What about my kitchen window sill?  When was the last time I cleaned them?  When was the last time I even thought to look and see if they needed cleaning?

              It’s so much easier to see someone else’s dirt—and that goes for spiritual dirt too.  Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye but don’t notice the log in your own eye?  Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ and look, there’s a log in your eye?  Hypocrite! First take the log out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye,  Matt 7:3-5.  Jesus warns us about judging others more harshly than ourselves, about expecting perfection from others who might actually be closer to it than we are.  My son’s apartment was a lot cleaner than the house I left behind at that point.

              It takes a practiced eye to see the dirt.  I still remember the day I really learned to wipe off the dinner table.  I thought I’d done exactly that, but my mother called me back.  Indeed I had gotten every crumb and obvious spill but she showed me how to lean so that the overhead light shone on the table.  I had wiped, but had only smeared butter, gravy, and other assorted foodstuffs.  First you wipe up the crumbs and spills, then you rinse your cloth and actually clean the table.

              Experienced housekeepers know that kitchen surfaces collect greasy dirt and that any flat surface—even narrow little baseboards—collect dust.  They know ceilings “grow” cobwebs and shower doors amass soap scum.  They know that wiping off the top of anything isn’t even half the battle.  There are sides, a bottom, and sometimes insides that need our careful attention.

              Maybe it’s time to do a real housecleaning on ourselves.  If you don’t know where to look for dirt, try all those places you find it so easily in others.
             
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence! Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup, so the outside of it may also become clean. Matt 23:25,26.
 
Dene Ward