That garden of ours is a lot of work.  In Florida that means it is also a lot of sweat.  When Keith comes in from a summertime Saturday of hoeing, weeding, mulching, spraying, mowing, and picking, he must leave his work clothes hanging on the porch because the hems are literally dripping.
            Losing that much fluid can be dangerous.  Dehydration can cause nausea, vomiting, muscle cramps, lightheadedness, and heart palpitations as the body tries to pump the same amount of blood with less liquid to accomplish the task.  If the body is not re-hydrated, confusion will follow, and eventually coma, organ failure, and death.
            It is important to keep your body hydrated as you go along and not wait until you are thirsty.  Keith always carries a gallon jug of water out with him to set in the shade of the carport while he works.  Every time he has a break in the activity—a finished row, an accomplished chore, an errand that takes him past the carport—he stops to take a drink even if he doesn’t think he needs it.  If you wait until you are thirsty, dehydration has already set in.
            I like to think of our Sunday assemblies as our chance to re-hydrate.  Nothing can sap your energy and drain your spiritual reservoirs like a week out in the world.  Without replenishing ourselves on a regular basis, we can suffer spiritual dehydration.  Trials become harder to bear and temptations more difficult to overcome.  The carnal, selfish attitudes that surround us can drain our faith.  Suddenly we hit a critical point, a time when our souls wrest in a spiritual cramp, and if we do not top up the tanks, a spiritual heat stroke in on the horizon.  If we wait too long, coma—an indifference to our situation—and spiritual death will soon follow.
            When the assembly of the saints works as it was intended, it reminds us that we are not alone, encourages us with the hope of the gospel, strengthens the muscles that have grown weak with exhaustion, and replenishes the faith, “provoking one another to love and good works.”  That meeting that we so often do nothing but complain about is as essential to our spiritual health as water is to our bodies. 
            But you can’t just sit there looking at the water bottle and expect to gather strength from it.  You can’t expect someone to hold it for you.  Your mama quit doing that a long time ago.  Re-hydration takes at least enough effort to pick up the bottle, lift it to your lips, and swallow.
            You don’t need it every week, you say?  Yes, you do.  If you wait till you’re thirsty, damage has already been done to your soul.  If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take a sip every chance you get.
           
Jesus said to her, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." John 4:13-14
 
Dene Ward

I just finished another field vision test—the one where you put your head in a bowl and press the clicker every time you see a light.  Although I don’t do as well as I used to, the fact that I see any one of those little pinprick lights at all is excellent.
            If you’ve had one of these tests, you know that the patient focuses on a central orange light while white lights of various sizes and brightness blink in different places around the bowl.  In spite of my optic nerve being over half destroyed, I still see at least some light in most areas with only two large blind spots.  For me it is more about how large the lights are and how bright.  Most of what I miss are smaller and fainter.  The damage from nearly thirty surgeries of various kinds with bright lights shining down over the operating table for hours, chronic follicular conjunctivitis caused by strong medications needed for much worse maladies than that, pressure spikes, and iris bombe makes those things difficult. 
            We must be careful not to damage our spiritual vision in a similar way.  When you’ve been hurt, especially more than once by people you have been taught to trust, it’s easy to view the world with something we call “a jaundiced eye.”  Innocence gives way to cynicism, but instead of fighting it we call it “maturity” or “hard-won wisdom.”  That makes it okay to expect the worst, assume the worst, and judge the worst.  It gives us permission to snap with sarcasm, snort with disdain, and view with contempt.  It makes a lack of trust not only justifiable but preferable.  After all, who wants to be called a fool for trusting the wrong person?
            Certainly God does not want us to be “children tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine,” Eph 4:14.  He doesn’t want us to lack common sense, 1 Cor 14:20.  He expects us to “grow up in all things,” Eph 4:15.  He expects us to be “wise as serpents,” Matt 10:16.  But none of that means he wants a people who are skeptical, suspicious and misanthropic by nature.  Does any of that describe the Savior we follow?  Like him, we are also to be “harmless as doves.”
            Do a field vision test on yourself this morning.  Do some situations raise your hackles?  Do certain topics push your buttons?  Do you find yourself unable to see anything good in certain people?  Maybe your vision has been damaged in those areas. 
            I cannot regain any of my lost vision—once it’s gone, it’s gone.  But all of us can regain our spiritual vision.  If you are blind when you view certain people and issues around you, you are probably blind to other more important things as well.  A man once said of Jesus, Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind, John 9:32.  That blind man had his eyes opened to more than just the world around him.  Suddenly he knew even better than his religious superiors that this man was truly the Messiah.  Why here is the amazing thing, he said to those men, you don’t know where he came from yet he opened my eyes, v 30.
            If you believe in him, as you have so often said you do, he can open your eyes too, no matter how many times you have been hurt, no matter how many times you have closed them against the light of his word.  All you have to do is let him.
 
Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, who keeps faith forever; who executes justice for the oppressed, who gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets the prisoners free; the LORD opens the eyes of the blind. The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down; the LORD loves the righteous. Psa 146:5-8
 
Dene Ward

I was reminded last week by one of my readers that I never really gave you an update on my eye surgery, especially whether it fixed the problem or not.  The answer is not exactly an easy one.  In the first place, nothing will "fix my problem."  What the doctors hope to do is delay the inevitable.  I suppose you could say that my crisis numbers are down, but the place where I have wound up would be for you a number which would get you immediate treatment.  I am already receiving an aggressive treatment and maximum medication and that is as good as it gets.  The treatment would lower you to an acceptable place, but I have nowhere to go but up, which means another crisis will loom sooner or later.  However, I still have vision.  This is what counts.
            Something else you might not understand is that eye surgery always does damage.  That is why they wait until there is no other choice.  It is why they don't put intraocular lenses in people to correct their vision until they already need cataract surgery.  So this surgery, which is somewhere in the neighborhood of number thirty, has left me seeing worse than before—but still seeing, mind you, which I would not have been without it.  But this is how I see:  I see three of whatever I look at, the left side is heavily fogged, and starbursts shoot out from behind whatever I am looking at if there is any bright light anywhere.  They tell me this will improve, that neuroadaptation will set in, with my brain blocking the bad and keeping the good.  Well, it's been nearly three months and I am still waiting.  My brain must be a little slow on this one.
            Then there are the meds.  I take three strong meds, all of which burn, not just for a few seconds, but for several minutes afterward, a long and major burn.  Right after a surgery, I am pouring alcohol on road rash, so to speak, but in my eye instead of on a skinned knee.  This time the doctor blasted five holes in my cornea and the raw edges kept me in pain constantly for a couple of weeks, whenever I blinked and especially after medicating.  At least now, though there is always some discomfort, the bad burn is only after medication.  Keith has taken to holding me when I put in the eye drops.  Does it help the pain?  No.  I grab and squeeze and bounce up and down and occasionally pound on his back, doing my best not to make much noise.  It is still extremely painful.  And throughout the day, the discomfort comes in other less obvious ways, often ending in a rip-roaring headache.  But it helps my state of mind to know that someone understands, that even when I walk in the meetinghouse with a smile on my face and pleasant greetings for all my brothers and sisters, that someone knows what is really going on behind the smile.
            And God is that comfort for us.  When trials and temptations come our way, God does not take away the pain.  Those are the very things that cause us to grow stronger and become fit for the kingdom.  But he does offer comfort.  That comfort comes from forgiveness (Isa 40:1,2), His church (Zion/Jerusalem, Isa 51:3; 66:13), His discipline (Psalm 23:4); His law (Psalm 119:52), His love (Psalm 119:76), and His promises (Psalm 119:50).  The ultimate comfort comes from His Son who took part in lives exactly like ours so, just like my husband knows how I am feeling when no one else does, He would know how we feel when the trials of life afflict us.  "Nobody understands" is not true for a child of God.
            Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted (Heb 2:14-18).
            Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Heb 4:14-16).
            Life is not supposed to be fun and easy.  We messed that up a long time ago and have only ourselves to blame.   But in His great love, God still offers us comfort when we need it.  Sometimes it comes from the arms of a loved one, the words of a favorite Bible verse, the strands of a favorite hymn, the phone calls of a beloved brother or sister, or any number of other ways.  All we need to do is reach for it, and then to spread that comfort to others as well.  Despite what a few stubborn loners believe, no one can make it by himself.  Reach out and take hold of the comfort and know that He understands and has compassion on us.  If you don't find that comfort, perhaps you just aren't looking for it.
 
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too (2Cor 1:3-5).
 
Dene Ward

When you have sat in the offices of doctors ranked in the top five worldwide in their fields, you often see some very sick or horribly injured people.  When they call the top gun out of surgery to look at you, or three of them squeeze you into their schedules at a moment’s notice, each running the same tests over and over, then staying late to discuss your case, you become more than a little frightened.  When two doctors have presented you at half a dozen medical conferences and another is writing a paper about your case for a journal, you are grateful not only for getting this far, but for every morning the light seeps through the blinds and you can see it.

When you need a specialist of that caliber you learn words with entirely too many syllables, and you enjoy instant name recognition at the clinic with a direct line to the doctor.  You find out just exactly what horrible things they can do to you while you are awake and still live to tell about it.  Once they put you to sleep, you really don’t want to know too much about what they are doing.  And you discover that no matter how tough your situation is, someone else always has it worse.

There is one disease we all suffer from, no matter how beautiful, how wealthy, how popular, how healthy we are; no matter how many times we manage to twist events so it looks like we are always right; no matter how many times we pat ourselves on the backs for keeping all the “rules;” no matter how many we visit or homeless we feed.  Sin has infected us all and only one Specialist has the medicine we need.

This is a time of year when we customarily take a moment to examine ourselves and try to become better people.  Take that time today to check your vitals, to honestly assess whether you need to see the Doctor.  The good news is that there is a 100% cure rate for those who take their medicine and alter their lifestyles as He orders.  You do not need insurance because His fee is more than reasonable—it’s free.  The same is true for those affected by a relapse-even a second or third—or hundredth.

As amazing as it sounds, not everyone takes advantage of His care.  Perhaps they do not understand that this is a terminal disease.  Maybe it’s denial, maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s sheer perversity.  Whatever it is, do not let it describe you.
 
As I live, says the Lord Jehovah, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn, turn from your evil ways; for why will you die, O house of Israel? Ezek 33:11.
 
Dene Ward

When you are born with a disability, especially a rare one that no one has heard of like I was, or when you develop one in your twenties that is practically invisible like Keith has, you have learned to handle all sorts of inappropriate and insensitive remarks with grace and equanimity.  You begin to feel like you should quack once in a while—as it all rolls off your back.
            But there is one remark that always rankles, me more than Keith, although it is always directed at him:  "You can hear what you want to hear."
            Sometimes it's supposed to be a joke—a poor one; sometimes it's one of those "manly" gibes; but every time it shows ignorance on the part of the one who says it.  The temptation is strong to wish the malady on them for just one week and see if their tune doesn't change.  I have to beat that unkind thought off with a stick far too often.  Not Keith—he doesn't hear it!
            He started going deaf while he was in the Marines.  No one knows why; it does not run in the family.  He was prescribed his first pair of hearing aids six months into our marriage at the age of 27, and he has gone downhill steadily.  He is now labelled "profoundly deaf."
            If he can't see your mouth, he can't "hear" you.  He lip-reads most of the time.  When the church decides to reserve the front center seats for a certain group that does not include the visually or aurally impaired, they are effectively removing him, and those like him, from the worship.
            At home he cannot hear me calling from another room.  Even if we are working side by side, we cannot talk as we work because he is keeping his attention on what he is doing.  Especially if we are doing something like peeling and chopping tomatoes for canning, he cannot even take a half second to look at my lips without endangering himself.  And I don't know about you, but I would find it hard to say much in half a second.
            At night when the lights go out, all communication ceases.  No pillow talk for us.  We have even had to work out a signal just in case I hear a prowler in the night, something I can do involving touch that tells him there is danger, but that he needs to keep quiet.
            When I have to be away from home overnight, he doesn't sleep well at all.  You cannot go to bed with your hearing aids on any more than you can with your glasses.  Without them, he cannot hear the smoke alarm, even though it is right outside our bedroom door.  A bad guy could hack the door down with an axe and be on him before he knew it.  Doesn't make for easy sleeping.
            When he works outside, he cannot wear his hearing aids.  They will short out from the moisture of perspiration.  Anyone who works with him has to learn how to communicate, and let me tell you, it can be exasperating.
            Yet, I can understand why people do not quite get it.  First, it's not always about volume.  A man and a woman could say something at precisely the same volume and assuming he can see them, he might hear the man but not the woman.  She speaks in a higher frequency.  Children are even worse, especially the younger ones whose speech is not yet clear. 
            Accents are a problem.  People from another country often speak in a different cadence, so besides pronunciation issues, the small things he has grown to count on that you never even notice are just "off."  So, yes, to the ignorant, it might seem like he can "hear" when he wants to.
            Even lip-reading is not the ultimate solution.  Many words "look" the same on the lips.  What "reads" like one word can easily be another.  He counts on knowing the subject in order to figure out the words.  Names and numbers have absolutely no context.  More often than not he gets them wrong, no matter who is saying them or how loudly.
            "Hearing" is a real chore for him.  What he hears is a fill-in-the-blank test.  He is constantly working to read lips, remember the context, and consider several possible words in a split second—every second.  Trying to keep up in a conversation with more than two others is next to impossible.  Sitting down to a relaxing conversation is a pipedream.
            "You can hear what you want to hear?"  Believe me, there are many things he would love to hear but can't.
            Like the voices of his children when they were little and wanted to tell Daddy something.  And now his grandchildren.  Gradually, they just gave up trying.
            Like the phone ringing when I got stuck in Birmingham in the middle of the night a long time ago.  It's a wonder I ever made it home.
            Like the several times I've needed urgent help outside in the yard, or even from another room in our one story, thirteen hundred square foot house and he could not come running. 
            Like being able to hear himself and others well enough to stay in key during the singing at church.  Here is a man who once played violin, one of the most aurally demanding instruments there is.  When we were dating, we talked about someday me playing the orchestral accompaniment to his violin concerto.  Never happened—he was already too deaf when we married.
            But he still loved to sing.  One time some middle schoolers sat in front of us at a church that will remain unnamed.  We noticed they were passing notes, but thought nothing of it until the service was over and they had left some trash in the pew.  He reached down to pick it up and throw it away.  There in his hand lay the note they had passed:  "Do you hear that guy behind us.  He sure sounds weird.  Who told him he could sing?"  God did actually, and he does, no matter what anyone else thinks, but he does wish he could hear well enough to still do it well.
            Yet that little comment, "You can hear what you want to hear," does have a valid application, even for normal hearing people.
            “Hear this, O foolish and senseless people, who have eyes, but see not, who have ears, but hear not. ​Do you not fear me? declares the LORD. Do you not tremble before me? I placed the sand as the boundary for the sea, a perpetual barrier that it cannot pass; though the waves toss, they cannot prevail; though they roar, they cannot pass over it. ​But this people has a stubborn and rebellious heart; they have turned aside and gone away. They do not say in their hearts, ‘Let us fear the LORD our God, who gives the rain in its season, the autumn rain and the spring rain, and keeps for us the weeks appointed for the harvest.’ (Jer 5:21-24)
            This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. (Matt 13:13)
            If we don't want to hear the truth, we won't.  We can even hear the words and come up with a completely different meaning, thus, Jesus' warning:  Take heed how you hear, (Luke 8:18.
            So if you suddenly feel a need to say, "You can hear what you want to hear," to someone who is hearing disabled, stop--remember to apply it to yourself first.
 
And unto them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah, which says, By hearing ye shall hear, and shall in no wise understand; And seeing ye shall see, and shall in no wise perceive: For this people's heart is waxed gross, And their ears are dull of hearing, And their eyes they have closed; Lest haply they should perceive with their eyes, And hear with their ears, And understand with their heart, And should turn again, And I should heal them. But blessed are your eyes, for they see; and your ears, for they hear. (Matt 13:14-16)
 
Dene Ward

After one of my several eye surgeries, I was actually examined one day by two veterinarians.  Remember, I am one of the prime teaching tools at the University of Florida Medical School.  These young Dr Doolittle’s were doing research in pain.  Their patients cannot tell them how they feel, so they were visiting human post-op cases to ask how they felt after various types of surgery.  It was the only way to know how the animals were feeling.
            My doctor took them to three different patients, an easy case, a moderate case, and then me—the extreme.  I answered their questions with accompanying explanations by my physician, shook their hands, and on they went.  Maybe some child’s pet bunny rabbit will have an easier time of it because of a ten minute delay in my own case—and putting up with a few jokes afterward.
            Isn’t that what Jesus did for us?  Well, no, not exactly.  Instead of asking a few questions, he went through the surgery himself.  How else was Deity to understand temptation, fear, pain, anguish, sorrow, desperation, or even relatively petty things like hunger, thirst, and weariness?  He did it when he counted not being on an equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, Phil 2:6.  He did it by being tempted in all points like we are, Heb 4:15.  It was really the only way.
            And now He knows.  Now He can tell His Father in words Deity can understand what it is like to be human.   Then He can turn around and tell us how to overcome, how to persevere, how to be faithful even to the point of death, Rev 2:10.
            Don’t make His sacrifice be for nothing.
 
In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  This same was in the beginning with God.  All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made.  And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth, John 1:1-3, 14.
 
Dene Ward

On July 14, 1993, six year old Alex Donley died from eating a hamburger contaminated with E.coli. at a family backyard barbecue. He suffered for four days with hemolytic uremic syndrome, a kidney disease that comes with the worst E.coli infections.  It shredded his intestines, liquefied portions of his brain and destroyed his hypothalamus.  His mother Nancy has chosen to fight for improvements to the safety of the US food system ever since, and I imagine every one of us has followed the rules that have come about from incidents like this tragic loss. 
            One time I opened the cooler and looked down into the plastic bin inside and saw a bloody mess.  Immediately my mind went into salvage mode.  We were camping, living out of a cooler for nine days, and couldn’t take any chances, even if it did cost us a week’s worth of meals.  As it turns out, the problem was easily solved.
            Whenever we camp, because space is short for that much food and eating out is not an option, I take all the meat for our evening meals frozen.  The frozen meat itself acts as ice in the cooler, keeping the temperature well down in the safe zone, and we use it as it thaws, replacing it with real ice.  I learned early on to re-package each item in a zipper freezer bag so that as it thaws the juices don’t drip out and contaminate the other food and the ice we use in our drinks.  We also put the meat in plastic tubs, away from things like butter, eggs, and condiments—just in case.  That’s what saved us this time.
            Somehow the plastic bag in which I had placed the steaks had developed a leak, but all those bloody red juices were safely contained in the white tub, and the other meats were still sealed.  I removed the bin from the cooler, put the steaks in a new bag, dumped the mess and cleaned the bin and the outside of the other meat bags, then returned the whole thing to the cooler, everything once again tidy and above all, safe.
            We all do the same things in our kitchens.  After handling raw meat, we wash our hands.  We use separate cutting boards for meat and vegetables meant to be eaten fresh.  And lately, they are even telling us not to wash poultry at all because it splashes bacteria all over the kitchen.
            We follow all these safety rules for our familys' health, then think nothing of cross-contaminating our souls.  What do you watch on TV?  What do you look at on the internet?  Where do you go for recreation?  No, we cannot get out of the world, but we can certainly keep it from dumping its garbage on the same countertops we use to prepare our families’ spiritual meals.  There is an “off” button.
            Maybe the problem is that these things are not as repulsive to us as they should be.  The Psalmist said, I have not sat with men of falsehood; Neither will I go in with dissemblers. I hate the assembly of evil-doers, And will not sit with the wicked. I will wash my hands in innocency: So will I compass your altar, O Jehovah; Psalms 26:4-6.  Can we say our hands are clean when we assemble to worship God after spending a week being titillated by the sins of others?
            Little Alex Donley is a horribly sad story, but maybe if we followed some basic spiritual safety rules as carefully as we do those for our physical health, maybe we would lose fewer to cross-contamination of the soul.
 
And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather even reprove them; for the things which are done by them in secret it is a shame even to speak of. Ephesians 5:11-12
 
Dene Ward

I wish I had a dollar for every hour I have sat in waiting rooms in the past five years, especially at the eye clinic.  I had a 3:30 appointment once, and finally saw the doctor at 7 pm.  Then there was the time we discovered that I needed an emergency procedure.  My appointment had been at 11:00.  I was finally pronounced fit to leave at 5:30. 
            The shortest amount of time I have ever spent at the clinic is two hours.  Sometimes the doctor is overbooked because he has critical patients who simply must be seen that day; I have been one of those patients.  Sometimes he runs late because an emergency arrives that must be worked in; I have been one of those emergencies.  I can hardly complain when someone does it to me.
            Yet, even the night I had to wait until 7:00, I never doubted that I would be seen.  I have never worried that someone would forget I was there and the doctor would leave.
            It makes no sense to doubt God either.  Sometimes we must wait a long time for the answer to a prayer, but it will come.  Sometimes we must endure a trial far longer than we ever expected, but He has not forsaken us.  How long did those faithful Jews wait for their Messiah?  I have never waited that long for God, have you?
            The world thinks that because the promised second coming has not happened in 2000 years it won’t happen at all.  They think that proves God doesn’t even exist, completely ignoring the evidence of His existence all around them.  That makes about as much sense as me deciding my doctor doesn’t exist because I have been sitting here waiting for three hours now, and my fellow patient in the next seat has waited four.
            My doctor is worth the wait.
            If ever anyone was worth a longer wait, it’s God.
 
Knowing this first, that in the last days mockers shall come with mockery, walking after their own lusts, and saying, Where is the promise of his coming? For, from the day that the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation. For this they willfully forget, that there were heavens from of old, and an earth compacted out of water and amidst water, by the word of God; by which means the world that then was, being overflowed with water, perished: but the heavens that now are, and the earth, by the same word have been stored up for fire, being reserved against the day of judgment and destruction of ungodly men. But forget not this one thing, beloved, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.  The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some count slackness; but is longsuffering to you-ward, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance, 2 Pet 3:3-9.
 
Dene Ward

As much time as I have spent in doctor's offices the past twenty years, I have learned a thing or two as we patients compare notes and experiences.  I have learned to trust my doctors simply because I had no choice.  Some of my conditions are so rare that I cannot even find them online to do any research to speak of, and that also means that few of us rare patients find ourselves in the same location at the same time—we are simply too scarce.  One scary thing I have learned is that doctors are not perfect, especially in the realm of the rare.  One just has to deal with it.  But so far, no one has made the wrong diagnosis, which in many cases could be catastrophic.  When you are treating the wrong ailment, the real one could be making advances that can never be undone.
            I thought of this while I was studying Mary and Martha recently.  I know, that probably leaves you scratching your head and saying, "What in the world…?"  What can I say?  My mind works in peculiar ways, especially when it is encumbered with impending medical tests, classes to be taught, and company coming all at the same time.
            So here are my crazy thoughts, in case you are interested.  Everyone, and by that I mean for the most part, anyone who stands in a pulpit and teaches that story in Luke 10, will diagnose Martha as "unspiritual."  I happened to be charting out the death of Lazarus in John 11 and was startled by what I believe the doctors might call "contraindications."  Look at the things she says to Jesus:
            Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you (John 11:21-22).  May I suggest that you go look at verse 32?  Mary said exactly the same thing—at least the first part.  The last part ("but even now…") was Martha's and Martha's only.  What did she have in mind?  A raising, perhaps?  After all, Jesus had raised two from the dead previously, the son of the widow of Nain and Jairus's daughter.  But then, this one was a bit different.  The others were either immediate or, per Jewish custom, on the same day as the death.  So maybe she wasn't quite sure, but I believe it must have crossed her mind.
            Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day (John 11:24).  This one shows her knowledge of scripture.  Even today many doubt that the Jews under the Old Law had any concept of life after death or Heaven.  How that is, I do not know.  Do you know the end of the Psalm 23?  And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  Then we have this:  But as for me I know that my Redeemer lives, And at last he will stand up upon the earth: And after my skin, even this body, is destroyed, Then without my flesh shall I see God; Whom I, even I, shall see, on my side, And my eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger… (Job 19:25-27).  Martha obviously knew those verses, and that's not the half of it.
            She said to him, Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world (John 11:27).  What had Jesus been trying without much success to do for about three years at that point?  Prove he was the Messiah.  Martha got it, even when the most "religious" and "spiritual" among that generation did not.  I dare anyone to look at this conversation with her Lord and tell me seriously that she was not a spiritual person.
            Yes, Martha had a problem, but it was not what everyone says it was.  If you notice the first incident in Luke 10, Jesus did not rebuke her until she complained about her sister.  Then in the last incident recorded about this remarkable woman in John 12, what is she doing?  "…and Martha served…" John 12:2.  There she is again, doing exactly what she was doing in Luke 10 except for one thing—she was not complaining about her sister, who was once again at Jesus's feet, this time anointing both his head and his feet (check Matthew 26).  Martha had the same problem that a lot of strong spiritually-minded people have—she looked down on others who did not serve in the same way she did. 
            Paul takes on this attitude in the famous Romans 14 controversy and quashes both sides with this statement:  Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls…(Rom 14:4).  It wasn't Martha's business to decide what Mary needed to be doing.  It isn't my business to look across the building on Sunday morning and decide that since someone isn't doing the same sort of serving I am doing, then they are wrong and need to get up and help me.  For one thing, none of us really knows how much another is doing, and sometimes the things others do would have never crossed my mind to do.  We are all different people with different abilities and different offerings to make to the Lord.
            Let's not misdiagnose Martha.  She was indeed a spiritual woman.  She knew her scripture even though as a girl she would not have been sent to the synagogue schools beyond age 12, if that far.  (My sources vary on this.)  She learned it at home from her parents, at the synagogue on the Sabbath where the Scripture was read, and for those years she followed Jesus.  But Martha was impatient and, perhaps, judgmental.  With the Lord's help, she dealt with those things and seems to have conquered them for he did not rebuke her at the second occasion.  Do you suppose we could do the same?
 
There is only one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to save and to destroy. But who are you to judge your neighbor? Jas 4:12).
 
Dene Ward
 

I remember when we were jumping through insurance hoops trying to make sure my grandchildren did not inherit more than my neonatal dairy allergy. I looked into those big blue eyes that sparkled so, trying to convince myself that they looked more like theirs grandfather’s than mine.  Even if they looked exactly like mine, odds are they did not inherit the condition.  They might have been 100 times more likely to have it than any other baby, but that still makes it a one in a million chance.  It happened that way with their uncle.  The minute they put him in my arms and I saw his eyes my heart froze, but seven months later we knew he had only inherited the look, not the problem.  Still, I would have felt horrible if I had passed this on to poor little Silas and Judah, and it appears that I did not.
            There are worse things to pass on to one’s children and grandchildren.  And [Jehoram] walked in the way of the kings of Israel, as did the house of Ahab; for he had the daughter of Ahab to wife: and he did that which was evil in the sight of Jehovah... [Ahaziah] also walked in the ways of the house of Ahab; for his mother was his counselor to do wickedly… And Joram said, Make ready. And they made ready his chariot. And Joram king of Israel…went out to meet Jehu…And…he said, Is it peace, Jehu? And he answered, What peace, so long as the whoredoms of your mother Jezebel…are so many? 2 Chron 21:6; 22:3; 2 Kgs 9:21.
            Are you familiar with this narrative in the Bible?  Start in 1 Kings 16 and read through chapter 11 of 2 Kings some night when you want a really good story.  It is a little of everything:  a family saga; an action-adventure story; a political thriller.  It has a villainess of unspeakable cruelty, an underground movement, a mole in the hierarchy, and a hero who saves the day.  All of this was brought about by the evil influence Ahab and Jezebel had on their children and grandchildren. 
            Perhaps the worst of the bunch was Athaliah, their daughter, who reached the point that she could order the murder of “all the seed royal,” among them her own grandchildren.  I have always thought this woman’s crimes especially heinous but now, having held a grandchild in my arms, I know she must have reached a level of moral depravity nearly unheard of, at least among God’s people.  That is what her parents passed on to her, for the next generation always sees our inconsistencies, the line we will not cross because of the inhibiting baggage we have brought to the table.  They see that inconsistency and erase the line, taking what we have taught them to its logical end.
            I cannot control whether Silas will inherit my physical condition; but I can control my influence on his spiritual condition.  I can set an example of faith that will reinforce his in moments of trial.  I can set an example of endurance to bolster his ability to overcome.  I can show him how a mature Christian behaves, even when people are less than accommodating.  Those things I can do, if I will.
            Having children is great motivation to be and do better.  Because the end may be in sight and priorities have become clearer, having grandchildren should be the best motivation yet.
 
I thank God, whom I serve from my forefathers in a pure conscience, how unceasing is my remembrance of you in my supplications, night and day longing to see you, remembering your tears, that I may be filled with joy; having been reminded of the unfeigned faith that is in you; which dwelt first in your grandmother Lois, and your mother Eunice; and, I am persuaded, in you also, 2 Tim 1:3-5.
 
Dene Ward