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

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[This was written a few years ago after a serious surgery with even more serious complications.  Just so you have the proper context…]

            When I was little and listened to the sick list at church, no matter where we went, there was always someone who was “chronically ill.”   All that meant to me was they were never at church.  I couldn’t fathom an illness that never got any better, that gave you good days and bad days, that made you careful not to “overdo” because of the adverse effects that might have on you.  Now I understand, and wish I didn’t.

            I no longer have any social life--my doctor is my social life.  I see more of him than any of my brothers and sisters in the Lord.  I talk on the phone more to his office help than to church folks.  I spend more hours sitting in his examining chair than I do in a pew.  In fact, they ought to rent me a room there. 

            And I know this will take a toll on my spirituality.  It becomes more and more difficult to keep a good attitude.   While I certainly have more time to study, not having a current class to prepare to teach makes it less a priority and easy to put off, especially when reading is so difficult.  Helping others is nearly impossible, especially when you don’t even know what’s going on with the brethren any more.  So yes, my spirituality is suffering.  I struggle to keep it every day.  But the circumstances cannot be helped.

            What I do not understand is people who do this to themselves on purpose:  those who darken the meetinghouse door only enough to keep the elders and deacons off their backs, and leave while the last amen is still echoing down the hall; who never take advantage of the extra Bible studies held in homes, a safe place to ask questions without embarrassment and learn from those who have wisdom and experience in life; who avoid all the social gatherings of the church scheduled between the services, while regularly finding time to be with friends in the world, not to teach, but simply to socialize; who never have a Bible lesson prepared—that’s only for the children—who never attend a wedding or funeral so they can “weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice,” those who are healthy enough to jog, to play tennis, to hunt or fish, to go to ball games and sit in the hot sun for hours cheering, but simply do not want more than they consider the bare minimum to get by as a Christian. 

            Here is the problem with that:  there is no such thing as the bare minimum.  If Satan can get you to believe that lie, he has sabotaged any chance you have to make it to Heaven.  God expects us to give our all, no matter how much that may be; more for some, less for others, depending upon the circumstances of life.  It is difficult enough when the minimum IS your maximum, but doing that to yourself on purpose will only make you miserable in both lives, this one and the one to come.

            The early Christians understood that they were spiritual lifelines for each other; they would not let go for anyone or anything.  They spent time together, strengthening one another from the beginning, and because of that they were able to withstand horrors we can only imagine.  If you wait till the horror is upon you to reach out for that lifeline, it is probably too late.

And all that believed were together and had all things common…And day by day continuing steadfastly with one accord in the Temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they took their food with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God and having favor with all the people.  And the Lord added to them day by day those that were saved, Acts 2:44,46,47.

Dene Ward

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            I was looking through Galatians 6 the other day and came across that verse that perplexes so many scholars; See with what large letters I write unto you with my own hand, v 11.  If scholars do not know what it means, I certainly don’t, but this is the way my mind wandered that day.

            Is Paul talking about writing something with large letters?  Did he have a hand injury?  I had surgery on my right hand when I was in college.  For two months I took notes in classes with my left hand.  As a right-hander, I had to write larger than usual in order to maintain any control and be able to read the product.  Still, it looked like a kindergartner’s printing, but at least I could study for my finals.

            But what if, as is more in keeping with my predicament these days, he had to use large letters so he could see what he had written?  Maybe that was the case and maybe not, but it made me think of the day I discovered how to change the font size on my PC.  What a wonderful day!  By upping the font to 18 or 24 point I could actually write emails and articles I could proofread myself.  Hurray!

            And then I thought, what if poor vision was his problem?  In spite of that, without a PC, without a mouse to click on a larger font, without even a typewriter for all that, he managed to write (or dictate) epistles that still leave us studying more and more deeply.  That might not have anything to do with Gal 6:11, but you can see how my mind kept traveling, because that led me to wonder about all those first century brothers and sisters of ours.  Without copy machines, they managed to copy those epistles and send them on to the next church.  Without airplanes or automobiles, they managed to travel miles and miles on foot, or risk life and limb in a boat no one could possibly mistake for a cruise ship, and carry those messages and minister to those evangelists.  Without television, telephone, or radio, without film strips or DVDs, tracts or lesson books, they managed to teach their neighbors and families. 

            And what happened?  Within 30 years they spread the gospel to the entire world according to Col 1:5,6, and 23.  Those people, who had every excuse we don’t have, turned the world upside down, Acts 17:6.

            And here we sit whining because of what we’d like to do if only we could.  How many churches, after thirty years, have the same number or less members because they have not managed to spread the gospel to just the town they are a part of, much less the whole world?  Those people toiled for hours a day just to survive, and still managed to spend time on the WORD.  When we finish “just getting by,” we spend our time on the WORLD.  Only one letter difference in those two words, but it certainly is a “large letter,” isn’t it? 

            What will you spend your spare time on today?

And you became imitators of us and of the Lord, having received the word in much affliction with joy of the Holy Spirit, so that you became an ensample to all those who believe in Macedonia and Achaia.  For from you has sounded forth the Word of the Lord, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but in every place your faith toward God has gone forth, so that we need not to speak anything,  1 Thes 1:6-8.

Dene Ward

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            Anyone who knows what last summer was like, knows that my usual routine was seriously disrupted.  In three months’ time, I had 28 doctor appointments, a full-blown surgery, and a dozen more procedures.  Getting a haircut was the last thing on my mind.  In fact, most of the time I could not have cared less how my hair looked.  But then it started falling into my face and getting in my eyes, a serious problem for someone with “two very sick eyeballs,” as one doctor put it.

            So about the middle of July, I cut it myself.

            The problem with giving yourself a haircut is you cannot see the back of your head.  No matter how much you twist your neck around, the back of your head just keeps getting away from you.  And holding another mirror only works if you have three hands—one to hold the second mirror, one to hold your hair, and one to hold the scissors.

            So I found myself doing a lot of guesswork.  Having curly hair hid most of the mistakes, but is it any wonder that by the first of September my locks were looking a bit ragged?  I could hardly wait for someone who could see me from their perspective to even things out a little bit—well, a lot, actually.

            Isn’t it funny that the last thing we want spiritually is for someone to help us even out our lives?  For some reason we do not mind going around with ragged lives, and worse, we want to believe they are not ragged at all.  We want to believe that what we see about ourselves is the way things really are.  Please pat down my unruly curl, please tell me to get the green out of my teeth, please unfold my hem, please stuff that facing back into my neckline—you are not a true friend if you let me go out in public this way—but do not under any circumstances tell me my faults, my spiritual imperfections, my sins.  You are not my friend if you do tell me about those.

            Could we be any more illogical?  Why is how my hair looks more important than how my soul looks?  The eternity caused by a spiritual imperfection is a whole lot longer than the embarrassment of half a day in town shopping with a physical imperfection.  We are falling into the sin of the Galatian brethren of whom Paul said, So then, have I become your enemy by telling you the truth? Gal 4:16. 

            James tells us that we should confess our faults one to another, 5:16.  If we were to call an assembly of the church for the express purpose of allowing everyone to confess their faults in turn, I wonder how many would show up.  I wonder how long the service would last.  I wonder how many people would suddenly become good students of the scriptures, researching all the words in that verse so they could find a way out of it.

            Unfortunately, most of us do not have “the gift to see ourselves as others see us,” (apologies to Robert Burns).  We do not have three hands to hold the mirror and the hair, and make the correct cuts.  That is one reason God gave us each other.  Don’t you think it’s about time we started accepting that gift from one another?

Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful, Prov 27:6.

Dene Ward

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            Every time I have had eye surgery, even the laser surgeries, a bright light has shone into my eyes for sometimes as long as 3 hours.  Is it any wonder that I come out of these procedures with an eye that is extremely light sensitive?  I don’t just mean, “Ooh, that’s too bright.”  I mean, “Ow, that really hurts.” 

            On the way home from Cincinnati after the first surgery at the Eye Institute there, the passenger seat had me sitting in the sun as it set to the west of us heading south.  Even with two pairs of sunglasses, a towel, and the sun visor in the car, I could not stand the light.  So Keith pulled over and put me in the back seat, right behind him on the east side of the car, and on we went down I-75, a bearded man in the front seat with his woman in the back, her head covered by a towel.  It’s a wonder Homeland Security didn’t stop us.

            Speaking of those sunglasses, I got to the point where I enjoyed the looks on people’s faces every time I walked into the women’s side of a rest area, whipped off my sunglasses and—voila!—there was another pair underneath them.  It took months before I could go outside without two pairs of sunglasses and a cloth over the eye that had been operated on.  My home was like a cave, with all the blinds drawn, and no lights on anywhere near me.  “Letting my light shine” was not a metaphor I enjoyed at the moment.

            A lot of people, who never had eye surgery, don’t like it when we let our lights shine.  Now why is that?  Jesus says that when we do so God is glorified.  I really don’t think that is the problem, except perhaps for atheists who don’t want anything good to be attributed to a Being they deny so fervently. 

            When I was in high school I was quiet and subdued.  I didn’t “preach on the street corners” so to speak.  But people still noticed what I did and did not do.  One of the shadiest characters in the school sat behind me in Latin class.  I never knew him before that class, but somehow he knew about me.  His language was usually atrocious, but if he ever slipped when I was present, he apologized immediately.  When he had a problem with his girlfriend he came to me to help him write a note of apology to her.  He was a year ahead of me, and I was an usher at his graduation (which I was a bit surprised he managed), but he came to me to help him fix his tie and collar before the seniors marched in.  My “light” did not seem to have any ill effects on him at all.  In fact, while he was around me, he behaved himself, and he relaxed because he had found someone he could trust not to hurt him or betray him.

            But it does not always work that way.  Why?  I think maybe it’s because when your light shines, it lights up the whole area around you, and then everyone can see the faults of the others, even though you never say anything about them.  Just by being good, you make others look bad.  Peter tells us in 1 Pet 3:16 that people will slander you for your good behavior.  No, it does not make any sense, but it’s all they can do to take the focus off their bad behavior when your light shines so brightly on them.

            Don’t become too sensitive to the light.  Keep on shining it.  You may have some good effects, keeping others from sinning, at least while they are in your presence, and possibly down the road of time as well.  Even if it causes you trouble, keep your batteries charged.  If you’re going to suffer anyway, Peter adds, suffer for doing good.  The Light will save you.

Jesus therefore said unto them, Yet a little while is the light among you.  Walk while you have the light, that darkness overtake you not; he who walks in the darkness knows not where he is going.  While you have the light, believe on the light that you may become sons of light…I am come, a light into the world, that whoever believes on me may not abide in the darkness, John 12: 35,36,46.       

Dene Ward

Among the other things we have dealt with recently is the discovery that I am allergic to dust mites.  This is not just a small nuisance.  We found out after I ran a low fever for 6 months, accompanied by horrible headaches. Finally a CAT scan showed that one of my sinuses had been infected for so long that the lining, which should not even show up on a scan, did in fact show up as a gray wall nearly half an inch thick.  The doctor operated, ripping out bone and tissue to open up what had become a sealed incubator for anaerobic bacteria. 

So we began vacuuming upholstery, washing sheets with a special de-miting solution, and zipping up mattress and box springs in special casings.  The doctor also suggested I hire someone to dust for me.  That’s not going to happen, but I am much more careful when I do the dusting myself.

Keith has also decided that we need to rip out the carpet and put down new flooring.  Yes, the doctor says, good idea.  Too bad she can’t write it out as a prescription we can deduct from the taxes next April.

The money is not the only problem.  Do you know what a mess this place is in while we are having this done?  Do you know how many things we need to go through and toss, and how many others need to be picked up and moved, or stacked and restacked as progress is made across the house?  How about a freezer filled with several hundred pounds of garden produce and meat?  How about an antique grand piano?  Will I ever again be able to find a certain book in all these bookcases?  Just thinking about it stresses me out, and I have an idea that we have not thought about every problem that will arise.

This is exactly the process a person goes through when he makes Christ the new foundation in his life.  Those of us who have grown up “going to church” have no real comprehension of what they are facing when we talk to our friends and neighbors.  We too often show no sympathy for the upheaval conversion will cause.  In fact, the disruption in their lives may be the biggest hurdle they must cross, and the least we can do is be understanding.  Too many times we dismiss those poor people, who so desire to have the peace we do, as “not worthy” because they cannot make an instant decision to change themselves, and then do so overnight.  “They were not truly converted,” we proclaim.  Shame on us.

Let’s not turn into hecklers instead of helpers.  I have seen too many new Christians lose their way because the people who should have been guiding them were moving too fast for them to keep up, and simply grew impatient, leaving them behind.  Putting in a new floor is a nuisance.  Putting a whole new foundation in one’s way of life is a monumental change that deserves help and respect.

And just perhaps, the reason we do not understand is that our foundation is not what it should be.  Is it habit and comfort, or is it commitment?  Maybe I need another kind of new floor as well.  Do you?

According to the grace of God which was given unto me, as a wise master builder I laid a foundation, and another builds thereon.  But let each man take heed how he builds thereon.  For other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ, 1 Cor 3:10,11.

Dene Ward

            A few years ago my eyes went to Auckland, New Zealand.  Later they went to Singapore.  They have also traveled to Honolulu, Lisbon, Amsterdam, London, and Brandenburg, Germany.  I suppose it is ironic that although my eyes have been to all those places, I have never seen any of them, and never will.  The magic of digital photography, videotape, and DVDs have taken my eyes to far away, exotic places, and because of that, medical magic will help others.

            I have heard many speak badly of doctors whose conferences take them to places like these; things like, “I wish I could count my vacation as a business deduction.”  Have you ever seen one of the programs for these conferences?  Yes, there are sightseeing tours arranged for the doctors (which they pay for), but they are sandwiched in between seminars, lectures, demonstrations, and panel discussions that you and I could never make heads nor tails of because we did not sign what amounted to a mortgage in order to attend years of medical school, nor have to pay an annual six figure malpractice insurance premium to protect ourselves from those who think doctors should be perfect.

            For any who complain about their travels, I hope you never need to rely on two doctors who live a thousand miles apart having met one another by chance several thousands of miles away from their homes in order to save your sight, or worse, your life.  Let them sightsee a little.  It’s worth it, if not to you, then to some poor soul somewhere.

            That was extra.  Here is my point this morning.  I will never see those places, except in pictures.  Abraham did not even have pictures as evidence when he left his home at God’s command.  He had no deed in his hand when he believed God would give him the land of Canaan, nor did Isaac and Jacob, or their wives.  But we are told, These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, Heb 11:13.  Amazing faith, we think.  There was nothing that even hinted to them that they would inherit that land.  At times they were run off it, even threatened if they stayed, but they still believed God would keep his promise. 

            That’s what we do today, isn’t it?  Some might think we have it even harder.  At least the three patriarchs eventually stood on actual land--dirt and grass and watering holes, with trees growing and animals wandering about.  We must believe in something we can’t see or touch.  Oh, really.  Do you think they didn’t believe in that place too?  …and having confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on this earth…they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one, wherefore God is not ashamed…to be called their God, but he has prepared for them a city, Heb 11:13,16.

            Their faith went beyond the physical, just as ours should.  It may be a tall order, but look at all those who have gone before us and managed it.  Why is it we treat the faith requirement as some sort of burden?  “Don’t lose faith,” we say when someone has a problem, creating yet another problem for them.  Faith should be an asset.  It causes hope, and how many people have lived longer lives because a doctor gave them a little thing called hope?

              The hope we have is for something even better.  Unlike all those amazing places my eyes have been but I have never seen, this is one I will see, the most amazing place of all, forever.

For in hope were we saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for that which he sees?  But if we hope for that which we see not, then do we with patience wait for it, Rom 8:24,25. 

Dene Ward

I have been spending a lot of time in doctors’ offices and hospitals lately.  My ophthalmologist has now transferred me permanently to the University of Florida/Shands Teaching Hospital where I receive excellent care, and regularly excite the interns.  These handsome young men run up and down the halls, grabbing their buddies and saying, “You gotta come!  You’ll never get another chance to see someone like this!”  For an elderly, gray-haired, slightly overweight woman, that is quite an ego builder.
             
Then there are the Fellows.  Notice, that is a capital “F.”  I have not quite figured out the whole hierarchy, but these seem to be young doctors who have finished medical school, and are now attached, almost literally, to an older, experienced doctor for a year or so before they go out on their own.  I met the latest Fellow a few weeks ago.  I go in fairly often—often enough that even the cleaning lady recognizes and greets me. Since it was our first time together, he got to do the initial work-up himself.  He tried reading the chart, but my doctor has notoriously bad handwriting, even worse than most doctors—he obviously aced the bad handwriting class that med schools seem to require all doctors to take. The pharmacy regularly has to call the office to find out what he prescribed, and that’s his good handwriting.  
              
Since this Fellow was having such a tough time of it, I just started talking.  He shut the file and listened, and then asked quite a few questions.  I have learned more about eyes than I ever hoped to know, including anterior chambers, corneal depths, iris prolapses, capsular tension rings, and zonules. The look he gave me was half surprise and half amusement.  Before we were through he said, “In your next life you will be an ophthalmologist.”
        
Opportunity knocked and I was totally oblivious.  Let me describe this young doctor and see if you miss it, too.  He was medium height, about five-nine, slim build, probably one-sixty.  His hair was dark, with heavy eyebrows, his face square and his skin dark as well.  His name was Indian, as in Gandhi, not Geronimo.  The University of Florida is nothing if not a melting pot.  Now think back to what he said.  “In your next life…”  Even if he no longer believes in his native country’s faith, his culture was showing:  reincarnation.  About 6
hours later, I realized what I should have said:  “In my next life, I won’t need
an ophthalmologist.”  Here he was, so imbued in his own culture’s faith that such a statement would pop out of him, and I, supposedly imbued in mine, missed a golden opportunity to reaffirm what I know to be true.
             
What do I do?  I blame it on my slow mind.  I’m getting older, you see, and don’t think as quickly as I used to.  Nonsense!  I had that problem twenty years ago, too.  “Old” has nothing to do with it.  What has everything to do with it, is a focus on the here and now, rather than on the eternal.  I was too concerned about what the doctor would tell me about this life to see what I might be able to do about the next one. I was too concerned with my physical fate and not concerned at all with the spiritual fate of another.  
              
A few months ago, I did a little study on spiritual immaturity.  Do you know what the apostle Paul equates that with?  Carnality.  Walking after the manner of men, 1 Cor 3. Thinking more about the physical than the spiritual, more about this life than the eternal life to come.  As I get more and more mature in Christ, this life should be less and less on my mind.  It should be easier to think of the “right” thing to say, not harder.  Have I not gotten any better at all?
             
Well, yes, I am some better.  I do not rail at God about this illness.  I do not ask him, why me?  I don’t whine--well, not very often anyway.  And just when I think I have accomplished something, the Lord sends me a wake-up call.  What I don’t  do is not even half of it.  My faith should be a positive thing, not a negative thing.  Here I had a chance to sow a seed, however small, and I stumbled in what might have been freshly plowed ground and fell flat on my face.   
           
I can hear some saying, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.  You have serious issues to deal with in your life right now.” Didn’t Paul have serious issues when he was beaten and thrown into prison?  But didn’t he sing God’s praises and preach to whoever would listen while he was there?  Isn’t his focus on the spiritual the reason he was able to say I have learned in whatever state I am to be content, Phil 4:11?  How else do you handle beatings that flay you open to the bone, stoning, shipwrecks, and betrayal by so-called brethren, to the point of rejoicing that those traitors were preaching the gospel, 1:15-18?  
 
And what shall I more say? for the time will fail me if I tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah; of David and Samuel and the prophets: who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, from weakness were made strong, waxed mighty in war, turned to flight armies of aliens. Women received their dead by a resurrection: and others were tortured, not accepting their deliverance; that they might obtain a better resurrection: and others had trial of mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment: they were stoned, they were sawn asunder, they were tempted, they were slain with the sword: they went about in sheepskins, in goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated (of whom the world was not worthy), wandering in deserts and mountains and caves, and the holes of the earth. And these all, having had witness borne to them through their faith, received not the promise, God having provided some better thing concerning us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.   Heb 11:32-40. 
 
All of these folks, some of whose names are not even recorded for us, like their father Abraham, desired a better country, v16, [greeting it] from afar, v13.  And because of that focus on a spiritual life, they were able to meet the challenges of the physical.
             
Yes, I will see this young man again, probably many times. But I may never again get that golden an opportunity to make a comment that might make him think.  But at least next time, I will be listening for the knock.
             
Are you listening?

Dene Ward

Twice now I have stood in an emergency room waiting for a doctor to tell me whether or not I would be a relatively young widow, 42 the first time, 48 the second. It is amazing what changes a few unexpected moments can bring about in your attitude. Suddenly you realize what is important. Suddenly the little annoyances of living together every day disappear. You would give anything to pick up after him one more time or put up with an annoying bit of male humor. There is nothing quite like the feeling when the doctor looks into your eyes and says, “He’ll live.”

When you get that reprieve something else happens as well. The next few days, weeks, even years if you allow it to last that long, are sweeter than ever. You revel in those evenings when you can still walk hand in hand around your garden, throw tennis balls for the dogs to chase, or pick wildflowers to fill an empty vase on the countertop. You understand that an exciting life has nothing to do with going places or having things, but rather in being together for as long as possible. And you find yourself bewildered when those around you don’t get it; when they magnify petty grievances or imagined slights into relationship-breaking arguments or silences. What is wrong with these people, you find yourself thinking. Why does it take a tragedy to make us behave like mature adults?

All of us face spiritual emergencies. All of us struggle with temptations, with suffering, and with trials. Sometimes we come through those trials in good shape physically. Other times we may suffer disabilities, the loss of status or worldly goods, the loss of loved ones, even the loss of our own physical lives.

Our souls often lie behind the curtains in a spiritual emergency room. The Great Physician stands over us, comforting us, assuring us that He understands and has, in fact, borne the same woes on His shoulders. He has everything we need to get through this, including the most wonderful prognosis of all.

It will keep us from bitterness because we know that these things are only temporal and fleeting, whether it feels that way right now or not. It will keep us from drowning in sorrow because we know we will see the one we have lost again. It will keep us from throwing our faith away in a moment of despair because, when we believe his words, hope rises to conquer even the forces of Satan.

There is nothing quite like the feeling when He looks into your eyes and says, “You’ll live.”

And the witness is this, that God gave unto us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. He who has the Son has the life; he who has not the Son of God has not the life. These things have I written unto you that you may know that you have eternal life, unto you who believe on the name of the Son of God,  1 John 5:11-13.

Dene Ward            

Have you ever really listened to one of those commercials about various prescriptions drugs?  
              
“Do not take Wonderdrug if you cannot sit, stand, or lie for longer than an hour, if you are pregnant or might become pregnant, if you have high blood pressure, low blood pressure, heart problems, trouble breathing, or during months beginning with J or ending with R.  Wonderdrug has been known to cause dizziness, memory loss, headaches, earaches, toothaches, infectious diseases,  cancer of all sorts, liver damage, bleeding ulcers, stroke, seizures, heart attack, acne, warts, and, in rare occasions, death.”   In some cases the remedy sounds truly worse than the disease.  I must say, though, I was stopped in my tracks the other day when one commercial warned that the drug might cause “increase in gambling."  Surely they were just trying to get my attention, right?  
              
Lately, I have had so many chemicals poured into me that I have had to
wonder about the remedy in my case as well.  Atropine, Predforte, Phenylephrin,  Zymar, Erithromycin, Alphagan, CoSopt, and Travatan, plus four others by three other doctors, all at the same time, a total of about 60 doses a day at one point.  And then there were the accompanying side effects:  light sensitivity, erratic heartbeat, dry mouth, dizziness, loss of taste, not to mention the eating away of the top layer of my eyeball (epithiliopathy) not once, but twice since then, after it had healed!  Believe it not, stopping the medication would have been worse, though sometimes I was strongly tempted to do so.

Pouring chemicals into your body is not good.  If your body is working correctly, don’t.  

It is no different with sin.  Sin may be attractive.  It may look good, but you will sooner or later suffer the side effects: guilt, shame, and spiritual death. 
As David wrote, For my iniquities have gone over my head; as a heavy burden they are too heavy for me.  My wounds are loathsome and corrupt because of my foolishness, Psa 38:4,5.

Righteousness, on the other hand, offers no painful side effects to the
sin-sick soul.  Instead we receive peace, boldness, strength, hope, joy, and life.  These are not unnatural to the soul; unlike lives of sin, this is the way God intended us to live from the beginning.  
             
Don’t be fooled by the labels the world attaches to sin, labels like “fun,” “security,” and “love.”  Jesus did not call Satan a liar without cause.  Instead, live joyfully, at peace with God, with all the guilt and shame removed from your shoulders.  That is what life in Christ is all about.
 
Being therefore justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have had our access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Rom 5:1,2  
 
Dene Ward