When I was 14 a new young doctor came to town, one who was not afraid to “think outside the box.”  My older doctor turned me over to him and he decided to try contact lenses on me.  I had been wearing coke bottle glasses since I was 4 and my vision declined steadily year after year with the bottoms of the coke bottles getting thicker and thicker.
            In those days, hard, nonporous contact lenses were all they had.  Usually they were the size of fish scales.  Mine were not any broader in circumference but they were still as thick as miniature coke bottle bottoms and nearly as heavy on my eyes.  Most people who wore normal lenses could only tolerate them for six to eight hours.  Now add a cornea shaped like the end of a football, a corrugated football at that, and these things were not meant to be comfortable on my eyes, certainly not for the 16-18 hours a day I had to wear them.
            So why did I do it?  My prescription was +17.25.  The doctor told me there was no number on the chart for my vision.  (“Chart?  What chart?  I don’t see any chart.”)  He said if there were, it would be something like 20/10,000, a hyperbole I am sure, but it certainly made the point.  Hard contacts were my only hope.  If they could stabilize my eyesight, I would last a bit longer.  When I was 20, another doctor told me I would certainly have been totally blind by then if not for those contact lenses.
            Then soft contact lenses were invented and their popularity grew.  But they were not for me.  They would not have stabilized my vision.  I lost count of the number of times people who wore soft lenses said to me, “I tried those hard ones, but I just could not tolerate them.  You are so lucky you can wear them.”
            Luck had nothing to do with it.  My young doctor was smart.  He sat me down and said, “The only way you will be able to do this with these eyes is to really want to.  You must make up your mind that you will do it no matter what.”  That was quite a burden to place on a fourteen year old, but his tactics worked.  Despite the discomfort, I managed, and managed so well that most people never knew how uncomfortable I was.  Finally, when what seemed like the 1000th person told me they just could not tolerate hard lenses, I said, “You didn’t need them badly enough.”  Most of us can do much more than we ever thought possible when we really have to.
            Need is a strong motivation.  A couple of thousand years ago, it motivated a woman to go where she was not expected, normally not even allowed, and certainly not wanted. 
            Simon the Pharisee decided to have Jesus for dinner.  I read that it was the custom of the day for the leading Pharisee in the town to have the distinguished rabbi over for a meal when he sojourned there.  While the man would invite his friends to eat the meal, an open door policy made it possible for any interested party to come in and stand along the wall to listen--any interested man, that is.  Of course, it was assumed that only righteous men would be interested.
            In walked a “sinful” woman.  Luke, in chapter 7, uses a word that does not in itself imply any specific sin, but it was commonly used by that society to refer to what they considered the lowest of sinners, publicans and harlots.  The mere fact that she was a woman also caused someone in the crowd to exclaim, “Look!  A woman!” in what we assume was horrified shock.
            The men were all lying around a low table with their bodies resting on a couch and their feet turned away from the table in the direction of the wall, while their left elbows rested on the table.  The woman came into the room, walked around the wall, and began crying over Jesus’ feet.  Immediately, she knelt to wipe his feet with her hair.  I am told that this too was unacceptable.  “To unbind and loosen the hair in public before strangers was considered disgraceful and indecent for a woman,” commentator Lenski says.  We later discover that these were dirty, dusty feet from walking unpaved roads in sandals.  How do we know?  Because Simon did not even offer Jesus the customary hospitable foot washing. 
            Then she took an alabaster cruse of ointment, a costly gift, and anointed his feet—not just a token drop or two, but the entire contents--once the cruse was broken open, it was useless as a storage container.
            What did Simon do?  Nothing outward, but Jesus knew what he thought, and told him a story. 
            One man owed a lender 500 shillings, and another owed him 50.  Both were forgiven their debts when they could not pay.  Who, Jesus asked him, do you think was the most grateful?  The one who owed the most, of course, Simon easily answered.
            And so by using his own prejudices against him, Jesus proved that Simon himself was less grateful to God than this sinful woman.  His own actions, or lack thereof toward Jesus was the proof.  This man, like so many others of his party, was completely satisfied with himself and where he stood before God.  And that satisfaction blinded him to his own need, for truly no one can stand before God in his own righteousness.  His gratitude suffered because he did not feel his need.  Would he have gone into a hostile environment and lowered himself to do the most menial work a servant could do, and that in front of others?  Hardly.
            So how much do I think I need the grace of God?  The answer is the same one to how far I will go to get it, how much I will sacrifice to receive it, and how much pain I will put up with for even the smallest amount to touch my life.  Am I a self-satisfied Simon the Pharisee, more concerned with respectability than with his own need for forgiveness, or a sinful woman, who probably took the deepest breath of her life and walked into a room full of hostile men because she knew it was her only chance at Life? 
 
And turning to the woman, he said unto Simon, See this woman? I entered into 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 she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss my feet.  My head with oil you did not anoint: but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  So I say unto you, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  And he said unto her, Your sins are forgiven… Your faith has saved you; go in peace, Luke 7:44-48,50.
 
Dene Ward
 

Many years ago we lived in an old frame house in front of a train track, on a corner lot right next to the crossing.  The boys were four and two, and they loved to run outside as soon as they heard the horn so they could wave to the engineer and watch the cars pass—boxcars, flatcars, tankers, and finally the caboose, usually with another trainman standing on its “back porch,” who also received an excited wave.  Before a week had passed, those men were craning their necks, looking for the two towheaded little boys so they could be sure to wave back. We learned the train schedule quickly:  one every morning about 8:30, one every afternoon about 4:00, and one every Saturday about midnight. 
            That first Saturday night train took about ten years off my life.  I came up out of a deep sleep when the horn sounded.  We had only been in the house two days and in the fog of sleep, I did not know where I was or what was happening.  Then I heard that train getting closer and closer, louder and louder.  I realized what it was then, but my perspective was so out of whack that it sounded like the train was headed straight for the middle of the house.  I sat straight up, frozen in terror until it had passed.
            Within two weeks I was sleeping through the din.  Not even the sudden wail of the horn woke me. During the day it took the tug of a little hand on my shirttail for me to hear the train coming so we could go out and wave.  Your mind tunes out what it doesn’t want to hear, and does a grand job of it.
            How many times do we tune out people?  When we learn another’s pet peeves, the things he goes on about at the least provocation, we no longer listen.  If we have the misfortune to deal with someone who nags, we tune that out.  Maybe we should learn the lesson to choose our battles.  If we want what we say to matter to people, don’t go on and on about the trivial or they will have tuned us out long ago and never hear the things they really need to hear.  Parents need to learn that.
            Then there is the matter of tuning out God.  Oh, we all want to hear how Jesus loved the sinners, but let’s not hear His command to, “Go thy way and sin no more.”  Let’s remind ourselves that the apostle Paul was not above preaching to some of the vilest sinners in the known world, fornicators, idolaters, adulterers, effeminate, abusers of themselves with men, thieves, covetous, drunkards, revilers, extortioners.  But let’s ignore the fact that he says they changed:  such were some of you; let’s ignore the fact that he said that in their prior state they were unrighteous and could not inherit the kingdom of God, 1 Cor 6:9-11.  That’s just one of the many things people don’t hear.
            Today, maybe we should ask ourselves what it is we don’t want to hear.  I imagine that it is the very thing we need to hear the most.
 
Why do you not understand my speech?  Because you cannot hear my word. He that is of God hears the words of God: for this cause you hear not, because you are not of God, John 8:43,47.
 
Dene Ward

A few weeks ago I got out a pretty dress, put on my heels, found a pretty pair of sparkly, dangling earrings, and dabbed on some lipstick.  Keith and I went out to celebrate our anniversary.  He trimmed his beard, wore a coat and tie, and polished up his dress shoes.  Do you think either one of us for a moment thought that because we chose to dress up for each other on that evening that we didn’t love each other the other 364 days of the year?  If we had, we would not have been celebrating number 49.
            Our assemblies have gotten more casual in dress as the years have gone by.  I understand that dress has nothing to do with the heart.  Sometimes people clean up the outside when it’s the inside that matters.  I would never judge a person as being less than devoted to the Lord because he wore jeans to the assembly, or because he waited on the Lord’s table without a tie on.  I think most of us have gotten past such superficiality. 
            Recently, though, someone said in my hearing that we needed to realize that we serve God all the time, not just on Sundays and that dressing up on Sundays was a sign of being a “Sunday morning Christian.”  I certainly agree with the first part of that statement, but I think the second half goes too far.
            I still wear a dress to our Sunday morning assemblies because that is what I have done all my life.  I see nothing wrong with dressing up—it’s one of the few chances I get.  It does not mean I don’t love the Lord the rest of the week, any more than dressing up for an anniversary dinner means I don’t love my husband the rest of the year.
            Why is it wrong to judge a person who does not dress up, but perfectly fine to judge a person who does? 
            That is just a small example of a big problem we all have—one way or the other we often do exactly the same things we criticize others for doing.  We may be just as judgmental, just as tactless, just as inconsiderate as others.  We have just wrapped ourselves in such an aura of self-righteousness that we cannot see it in ourselves.  Our vision has been clouded by what we want to see, not what is really there.
            I have developed another eye problem—a growth that is fogging up the vision I still have, and which will gradually worsen unless it is removed.  Unfortunately, because of all the other conditions, the surgery to remove the growth is as dangerous to my vision as allowing the growth to continue on. 
            But there is no argument here: it is far more dangerous to our souls to allow that spiritual haze to grow unabated than to remove it.  Self-righteousness breeds true, and becomes more and more difficult to see in ourselves as the years go on. 
 
Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye, Matt 7:1-5.
 
Dene Ward

I don’t need to tell you the story of the Prodigal, or Wasteful, Son.  I am sure you have heard the lesson so many times you might shut this book if I tried.  All I want you to think about this morning is the point that young man had to reach before he could truly repent.  He had to hit rock bottom.  He had to wake up and find himself completely alone with nothing but the pigs for company and the food he fed them for sustenance. 
            We raised pigs when the boys were still with us.  Every fall we put a new one in the freezer and it kept us well fed for a year.  But after raising them, I can say with authority that it was a brave man who first ate one.  Leaning over to put the feed in the trough and coming face to face with a snorting, muddy, ugly, animal whose head was twice as big as mine, and who nose was always running and caked with a mixture of dirt and feed was nothing short of disgusting.  I never had a bit of trouble come slaughtering day, despite the fact that we named them all—either Hamlet or Baconette, depending upon gender. 
            When we have sinned against God, we need to reach the point that young man did, bending over and finding himself face to face with a filthy, reeking, disgusting animal.  We need to understand how low we have sunk.  For some it may not take as much.  Their “rock bottom” may be a realization that comes from private study and its conviction, or someone’s chance comment in a Bible class that hits the mark.  That may be enough to turn their hearts.  But for the stubborn, the arrogant, and the foolish, it will always take more.  They have to have their noses rubbed in the mud of the sty to realize that they are indeed eating with the pigs.
            But we must not think this is only for those who have “left” and then returned.  This needs to happen every time we sin, not just the “big ones.”  Why do you think those little sins keep plaguing us?  Because we have never seen them as anything but “little.”  We have let our culture and our own pride keep us from comprehending the enormity of sin and what it does to our relationship with our God.  Nothing that caused the death of the Son of God is “little.”  For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, Rom 3:23.  We don’t understand “glory” if we think that even the tiniest amount of sin can stand in its presence.  We have to, in the words of Ezekiel, remember your evil ways and your deeds that were not good, and loathe yourselves for your iniquities and your abominations, 36:31.
            So the next time you pray for forgiveness, ask yourself first if you recognize how far you have fallen; if you understand that any sin is horrible; that even the tiniest sin, as men count them, makes you forever unworthy to stand in the presence of an Almighty God.
            Ask yourself if you realize that you have been eating with the pigs.
 
For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. For see what earnestness this godly grief has produced in you, but also what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what fear, what longing, what zeal, what punishment! At every point you have proved yourselves innocent in the matter, 2 Cor 7:10,11.

Dene Ward

I just returned from a visit with my mother at the Rehab Center.  I took in a plate of my best, ooey-gooey brownies and laid them at the nurses' station for all the people who care for her, even the housekeeping ladies and maintenance guys.  I wrote on the paper plate a big thank you from her family.  Suddenly, my mother was everyone's favorite patient; suddenly everyone wanted to let me know that they took care of "Miss Hilda;" suddenly the glum looks I had received the first time we went in turned into big toothy smiles.
            I learned a long time ago that the better you treat people, the better results you will get, even if it's their job anyway.  If you call waitresses by their names and spend a little time noticing something about them—complimenting a pretty pin or expressing concern about a slight limp—you will get far better service.  If you need to call a company, if you remember the name of the one who answers the phone and use it a few times, then tell them how much you appreciate the help they give you, even if it isn't all that much, the next time you have to call, they will remember and try harder to help you out.  Once you establish that rapport, they will even do their best to help you with a complaint.  Nine times out of ten, the better you treat people, the better they will treat you.
            That should not be the way it is for a Christian.  For a Christian, the worse people treat you, the better you should treat them.  What?!  Why that's just plain un-American, isn't it?  Unfortunately it just might be, but "American" should not be your first descriptor to anyone.  Maybe we should spend a little time on this.
            We run around talking about agape love all the time like we actually know what it means, and then turn around and do the opposite.  Look at Romans 5 and let the Lord show us how we are supposed to love.
            For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. (Rom 5:6-10)
            Did you catch that?  How were we treating God when he sent our Savior?  We were weak, we were sinners, we were his enemies, and still Christ died for us.  If you think that doesn't apply to us, let me remind you:  For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. (1Pet 2:21)
            Still not convinced?  Let's try this:  The fruit of the Spirit includes kindness (Gal 5:22), a word associated with God in such passages as, And has raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus: That in the ages to come he might show the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus. For by grace are you saved through faith… (Eph 2:6-8).  Here Paul makes it plain that the kindness of God is associated with his grace, meaning we did not earn it.  That's the same word as the fruit of the Spirit "kindness."  We are to be kind to others, not because they have been kind to us, but because God has been kind to us.  And that's why we should always treat others better than they deserve. 
            And that puts me in mind of this:  ​For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. (Matt 7:2)  If ever there was a time you don't want to get what you give, I think it might be this one.
 
Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. (Col 3:12-13)
 
Dene Ward        

Once there were two young brothers.  The older was a young teenager, and the younger an early middle schooler.  Not long before, they had been playmates, but the older brother had that usual growth spurt that boys do and suddenly he was a foot taller and his voice an octave lower than his little brother's.  Even his thinking had begun to change so that when he led a prayer, he prayed part as a little boy with little boy wishes and part as a young man in whom was dawning the greater complexities and spirituality of life.
            One day when their grandmother was visiting, they decided to "play golf," which turned out to be their own made-up game with made-up rules because, let's face it, you can't hit a long, hard drive in your backyard without endangering your neighbor's abode.  Grandma was the scorekeeper, and she wondered how this would work at all with big brother suddenly so much bigger, stronger, and more adept as a budding young golfer.  It worked just fine.
            Whenever little brother hit it "in the rough," big brother told him, "Go ahead and toss it out into the short grass.  We won't count that stroke."  And so little brother, while remaining behind in the scoring, was not so far behind that it discouraged him.  Then big brother made a few excellent shots and found himself five or six points ahead (which is actually lower, you know) than his little brother.  Suddenly, big brother was not playing quite as carefully, though not very noticeably so, and little brother caught up and made it a tie.  The game went into "Sudden Death," as the brothers called it.  Eventually, big brother won by 1.  He was satisfied with his win and little brother was more than pleased with his showing and not a bit disappointed.  After all, he had expected to lose to someone bigger, stronger, and more adept at golf.
            But he never really noticed what his brother had done for him, and big brother kept it that way.  No rubbing little brother's nose in his inability.  No bragging about how much better he was.  No taking this great opportunity to rout the weaker brother and enjoy stomping him in the dust.  Just a quiet, humble way of serving his brother that encouraged and motivated him to try even harder.
            And I am one proud Grandma.
 
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

I suppose it has not escaped your notice that I do not write what I call, “Feel Good Fluff.”  I do my best writing when I am scolding myself, and unfortunately, that means you get scolded too.
            I am more concerned with becoming a better person than with feeling good.  Maybe that is because I seldom feel good physically any more, so I am not wedded to the idea that I must always be pumped up spiritually in order to become a more spiritual person. 
            I have written a few things that I hope have encouraged you.  I have written a few things that have made some of you cry, good tears, not bad ones.  However, a friend told me once, “I want something that challenges me,” and I found myself agreeing with her, and that is what I have tried to do more than anything else.  If I keep saying that you are just fine the way you are, will you even bother to try to improve yourself? 
            As a result, I have lost readers.  It makes me think of Ahab who described the prophet Micaiah this way, “I hate him because he does not prophesy good concerning me, but evil,” 1 Kgs 22:8, and who once greeted Elijah, “Is it you, you troubler of Israel?”  18:17. Too many folks ignore the fact that they are causing their own problems.  Like Israel of old they want preachers who say, “Peace, peace, when there is no peace,” Jer 6:14.  Like the Galatians’ behavior toward Paul, they make those who simply want to help them wonder, “Have I therefore become your enemy because I tell you the truth?” Gal 4:16.
            Pats on the back are good.  They serve a purpose.  A sermon that makes you shed a tear for the sacrifice that saved you is a helpful thing.  It might just sustain you through a temptation that comes your way soon after.  I think that is one reason we remember that sacrifice every week. 
            But emotion fades.  That pumped-up feeling can deflate quickly when the realities of life puncture your balloon.  You must often sustain yourself with the knowledge that comes from the hard, and often tedious, work of Bible study.  You must have the word of God saturating your mind so much that it bubbles up and out of you just when you need it most.  You must have prayed often enough that a quick one automatically comes to your lips in difficult circumstances.  You must believe because you know logically and with sound evidence that these things are true, not because someone sent you a piece of feel good fluff that won’t stand up to an argument by a knowledgeable minister of Satan.
            Most of all, you must be willing to listen to those who love you and care about your eternal destiny, whether you want to hear what they say or not—and, in fact, whether they have your good will at heart or not.  God has often used the wicked to send his message.
            Don’t be afraid to be challenged.  Don’t be afraid to examine yourself for your faults.  It will work wonders for your soul.
 
Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in the spirit of meekness; considering yourself, lest you also be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Gal 6:1,2.
 
Dene Ward

On May 10, 1736, Charity Hospital opened in New Orleans.  Jean Louis, a French sailor and shipbuilder, left all his savings, which in that day amounted to about $1600, to build a hospital for the poor and uninsured people of New Orleans.  Located in the French Quarter, other hospitals were added to the conglomerate until by 1939 it was the second largest in the country with 2680 beds.  It was also one of the longest continuously operating hospitals in the United States until it was hit by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. 
            And in case you didn't know, there were no hospitals at all in the entire world until the advent of the Christian Era.  In the last part of the fourth century, Basil of Caesarea founded the first hospital, a Christian hospital.  Monastic orders added hospitals to their monasteries in the fifth and sixth centuries.  Missionaries went on to found the first hospitals in China and Japan in the 1800s.  It was not until the eighteenth century that hospitals began to be secularized.  Say what you will, Christianity brought many good things to a world that was focused on the survival and good of self.  Suddenly, someone else cared about you, even if you were poor or sick.  Try that in a pagan society.
            It has often been said that the church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.  I am not sure we believe that.  I have seen too many unwelcoming saints in my lifetime, those who would limit where they even offer the gospel at all—we want nice, middle class, nuclear families with no big problems.  "They would really help our contribution," I have also heard people comment about certain visitors.  If that isn't a mercenary motive for spreading the gospel, I don't know the meaning of the word.  But what did Jesus say to the people of his own era with the same attitudes?  …Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners (Mark 2:17).
            And then we have our own problems that need some spiritual hospitalization, the ones we don't want to admit.  Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed… (Jas 5:16).  Have you ever attended an assembly that actually does this?  Not unless someone "goes forward," you haven't.  And why?  We're too proud for one thing, and we are also too scared—someone might run with our confession and use it against us.  "Did you know that so-and-so has this problem?"  And so we do not get the benefit of this humbling and also encouraging command—humbling to have to admit you are not perfect, and encouraging to see that others have the same issues and learn how they deal with them. 
            A spiritual hospital is for the sinner, the spiritually sick, the one who has to fight sin and temptation the way others fight infection and disease.  And as long as we refuse to admit it, we will never get the medicine we need, for we are indeed the needy.
 
Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance (Luke 15:7).                         
 
Dene Ward

On January 3, 1521, Martin Luther was excommunicated from the Catholic Church and declared an outlaw who could be killed with impunity.  On May 4 of that same year, several men pretended to be robbers, and took him to the Wartburg Castle in Eisenach, Germany, where he stayed "hidden" as a man named Georg Junker.  While there, he translated the New Testament into German.  His translation, which has been lauded by scholars ever since, brought joy to the German people because the Bible had finally been taken out of the Roman Catholic pulpit and placed in their hands.  His work even led to the standardization of the German language according to Atlas Obscura.
            But Luther did one thing in that translation that left him open to much criticism.  He took Romans 3:28 and added the word "only."  We reckon therefore that a man is justified by faith [only] apart from the works of the law (Rom 3:28).  Not only did he add to the Word of God, he made it contradict itself!  You see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only (Jas 2:24).  In a very real way, he disrespected the Word of God.
            Most of us would immediately run to the book of Revelation and quote, I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book, and if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book (Rev 22:18-19).  But we need to be careful about that as well.  Those verses, in context and as John plainly says, apply to the book of Revelation.  You don't pull a verse out willy-nilly and quote it just to win an argument.  That's not a whole lot different than Luther's actions.  But the concept of presumptuous sin—and it is certainly presumptuous to think one can improve God's Word--and of false teaching runs all through the scriptures.   But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed. As we have said before, so now I say again: If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to the one you received, let him be accursed (Gal 1:8-9).
            I am sure you have heard, if not an urban legend, what might very well be a church legend in similar vein—the one about the woman who told a preacher that Acts 2:38 was not in her Bible, and when he looked, sure enough, it was not.  She had taken her scissors and cut it out.  I often wondered if she had somewhere pasted something in as well.  If you can do one, you can do the other.  But we really don't even have to grab the scissors or the paste.  All we have to do is ignore what is written and do things our own way to the same effect.  Although I am sure Luther, were he alive today, would object, he wouldn't have a leg to stand on.
 
And we also thank God constantly for this, that when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men but as what it really is, the word of God, which is at work in you believers (1Thess 2:13).                                             

Dene Ward

I'm sure you saw it on Facebook too:  someone issued Florida a participation trophy for participating in winter this year.  Especially up here in the north part of the state, we had several hard freezes, sleet, snow flurries, and ice on the roads.  At least we know we will have a blueberry crop this year.  Our type of blueberries require a certain amount of cold and the past two winters have been too warm for our plants to produce enough berries for one muffin!
            But I know this:  anyone who has not lived in the Midwest or Northeast still does not understand real winter.  We lived 100 miles south of Chicago for two years.  That experience was far more than two or three weeks of lows in the 20s and highs in the 40s.  Someone in Maine would probably consider that a heat wave.  A few cold weeks down here is nothing compared to several months of even colder weather up there.
            We have had the same experience trying to explain the heat down here.  When people further north see highs in the 90s they say, "Well, we get that hot, too."  Here is one difference: we have it day in and day out for a full five months with no let up.  Here is another:  we have humidity to match it; and a third:   the sun exposure, being much more direct, will sap the strength right out of you. 
            We tried to tell some people that once, and they just laughed.  Then they came to visit for a week.  It was only mid-June, so it wasn't really all that bad yet.  One morning the visiting lady went outside with me to help hang up clothes, oh, around 9 am.  We hadn't been outside more than five minutes before she suddenly gave a soft little "whew!"  I looked over.  She was red-faced and pouring sweat.  "It's sort of like a steam bath out here, isn't it?"  she said, panting a little.  She could hardly endure a week of it.  And it was constant.  Once the summer sets in, there is no fluctuation.  A heat wave?  Ours lasts from May till October.  Being here a week in June still does not earn you a participation trophy in a Florida summer.
            So I have learned over the years to listen to others and to realize that unless I have had their exact experience, I really do not know what they are dealing with.  I have learned to withhold judgment until I gather more information.  I have learned to offer more sympathy and less castigation, and I never say, "I know how you feel," when I don't.
            I have been watching and listening to all these accusations of sexual harassment lately.  Nothing quite gets my hackles up like someone saying, "So why did she wait so long to tell?" as if her delay makes her story unbelievable.  Especially when it comes from someone without a participation trophy, and especially when it comes from a man.
            I will tell you exactly why she kept quiet.  Not just embarrassment, but total mortification.  And the more chaste a woman is, the less likely she will say anything.  If she has been raised as a Christian, to keep herself pure and to assume the best of others, her first thought will be, "What did I do wrong?" even when she did absolutely nothing.  She won't want to cause any trouble or bring attention to herself.  She won't want to embarrass her family.  She won't want to hold herself up to all the probing eyes and thoughts of people who will assume the worst about her and dare to bring up what she considers unspeakable suspicions.  Even if she is perfectly innocent.  And if the harasser is older, a head taller and a hundred pounds heavier, or in authority over her, she will be too scared to speak.  If she needs the job, the class, the promotion, the grades, or whatever it is she might lose if she talks, she will keep quiet for years, even decades.
            So stop judging.  If you are a man, don't say a word.  You have no idea what it's like.  You don't have a participation trophy.
 
​Judge not, that you be not judged. ​For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. (Matt 7:1-2)
 
Check in again tomorrow for the answer to the question I know you want to ask.
Dene Ward