Sometimes you wonder about a so-called "improvement."  On February 18, 1947, Enock Ancker of Ft Bayard, New Mexico, invented the blister pack.  He said its purpose was to provide "a sanitary container for the tablets wherein novel means are incorporated to the end that one tablet at a time may be easily removed from the container."  Yes.  "Easily removed."  That's what the application says.  I just spent twenty minutes trying to get 84 acid reducing pills out of six blister packs so I wouldn’t have to do it every morning for the next 7 weeks.  Twenty minutes! 

               What is it with these manufacturers?  You would think they would want you to try their medication, not give up in frustration, throw the whole thing away, and use another.  Or maybe it’s meant to be self-perpetuating:  the more aggravated you get, the more acid your stomach produces, and the more you need their pills.

              I have an issue with childproof caps too—about the only ones they keep out of the bottle are those of us with arthritic hands.  And CD and DVD packages?  How many times have I cut myself on them and, with this aspirin-a-day regimen, bled all over everything before I even knew I had done it?

              Manufacturers who don’t want you to use their product—sounds strange doesn’t it?  What about that branch of theology that says that God doesn’t want to save everyone, that Jesus died only for the ones He does want to save, and that no matter what you do or how you feel about it, there is nothing you can do to change that?  Let me show you why I have a problem with that.

              Say to them, As I live, declares the Lord GOD, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, O house of Israel? Ezekiel 33:11

              This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth, 1 Timothy 2:3-4.

              For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, Titus 2:11

              The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance, 2 Peter 3:9.

              God does want us to be saved, as many as are willing to live by his Word.  Jesus died for all, not just those lucky few.  You can make a difference in your own salvation, “turn back from your evil ways,” “come to a knowledge of the truth,” and “reach repentance.”

              Praise God that He loves us and wants us with Him for Eternity.  Praise God that salvation does not come in a blister pack.
 
For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised, 2 Corinthians 5:14-15).
 
Dene Ward

Some responsibilities are tougher than others.  Some responsibilities deserve the word “onus,” a responsibility that is so big it is almost terrifying.
              I imagine the first time you really understood that word was when they put that tiny, squirming baby in your arms.  Suddenly you understood that it was your responsibility to care for another human being, one who was completely helpless and dependent.  It wasn’t like a friend who was having a problem so you spent some time with him and then went home to your own life again.  This was a responsibility that completely changed your life—your schedule, your budget, your chores, even your habits. 
              I bet you said, “I have to stop (blank)ing now.”  You didn’t want your child to develop those same bad habits you were always fighting and suddenly you had the motivation to deal with them.
              I bet you sacrificed a lot of things.  Suddenly spending an hour to put on makeup wasn’t quite so important.  Suddenly you forgot to watch a few ball games on Saturday.  Suddenly you didn’t need to eat out quite so often, or see so many movies, or go shopping as much.
              I bet you suddenly felt a love you never even knew existed before then, something nearly overpowering in its strength.  While the word onus means a “burden” of responsibility, I bet you never thought of it that way once.  You were happy to do those things for that precious child. 
              I was studying a few weeks ago and came upon something that put another onus on me.  Once I really understood what I was reading, I actually shivered a little and felt a peculiar sensation in the pit of my stomach.
              …That they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive remission of sins and an inheritance among them that are sanctified by faith in me, Acts 26:18.
              We are “sanctified” by faith.  Okay, so we are “set apart,” (yawn).  What of it?
              Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, Matt 6:9. 
              The Greek word for “sanctified” is the same Greek word translated “hallowed.”  We are “sanctified” just like God’s name is “hallowed.”  Do you realize the burden that places on us in our behavior?  Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ, Paul says in Phil 1:27.
              Suddenly our lives should have changed.  We should have been anxious to rid ourselves of the bad habit of sin.  Worldly affairs should have found their correct place on the bottom of our priority list.  Sacrificing for a Lord who sacrificed Himself for us should have come naturally, and an overpowering love and gratitude should have overwhelmed us.
              That’s what should have happened.  Did it?  Maybe this little reminder will help.  God expects you to be as hallowed, as sanctified, as His name is.  We always told our boys, “Remember who you are.” 
              All of us need that reminder.
              As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, "You shall be holy, for I am holy." And if you call on him as Father who judges impartially according to each one's deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot. 1 Peter 1:14-19.
              Now read all those underlined phrases one after the other.  That is the onus that is placed upon you.
 
Dene Ward

We lived in Illinois for two winters.  It was this Florida native’s first experience with snow.  The neighbors laughed at us.  Despite a lack of children in the house, we built a snowman in the front yard, dug tunnels through the eight foot high drifts on the side of the house, and had snowball fights.  I had never had a chance to do those things before, or survive nighttime temperatures at zero or below, or drive on ice pack to the grocery store.  Suddenly I did them all.
 
             In mid-January I woke to another new experience--snowmelt dripping off the eaves on a sunny day.  I glanced outside and the snowman had gone on a crash diet, slimming to the point of losing appendages and facial features.  Before long patches of brown peeked through the white and the piles of dirty gray snow left by the snow plows on the roadsides were shrinking.  Salty slush splashed up under the passing cars.  We even abandoned our heavy coats for cardigans.  A few hardy souls went out in shirtsleeves as the thermometer climbed toward fifty. 

              “It’s over already?” I wondered.  “Is this spring?”  But no, not a week later a blizzard blew through.  The respite was over.  This was just “the January thaw,” I was told.  Some people dispute the notion of a January thaw.  Others, who have charted temperatures for decades, cite those figures to show that there is indeed a rise in them occurring the third week of January in New England, and a week or so earlier in the Plains states.  It may be folklore, but there appears to be something to it.

              The scriptures talk about a more important thaw—that of the heart.

              As soon as all the kings of the Amorites who were beyond the Jordan to the west, and all the kings of the Canaanites who were by the sea, heard that the LORD had dried up the waters of the Jordan for the people of Israel until they had crossed over, their hearts melted and there was no longer any spirit in them because of the people of Israel. Josh 5:1.  Wail, for the day of the LORD is near; as destruction from the Almighty it will come! Therefore all hands will be feeble, and every human heart will melt, Isa 13:6,7.

              The Canaanites’ hearts melted with fear at the power of Jehovah.  The Babylonians would fear when that same Jehovah came in destruction on their empire.  Even his own people feared enough to repent for awhile.  The Bible is full of such language.  It is nothing more than pure terror.  In most of those cases, the fear subsided and the heart froze yet again.  How many times do we hear that Pharaoh once again “hardened his heart?”  Just as the presence of a trooper on the side of the read will lighten a lead foot for about a half mile, terror only lasts a short time.  And while fear certainly has its place in our relationship with God, it isn’t the antifreeze a heart needs to stay faithful.

           And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.  And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules, Ezek 36:26,27.  Just as Judah needed not just a melted heart, but a completely new and soft one, we also need a new heart—a new attitude—about who God is.  Not just an all powerful king and authority in our lives, but a provider, a redeemer, and a Father.

           Recognition of what God has done to save us, and the gratitude and love that follow will keep one’s heart warm toward God.  It will last more than a few days, and even through a blizzard of trials.  Then we can experience the true warmth of spring in our hearts, the flowering of new growth in our spirituality, and a flourishing relationship with our Creator.
 
I know, my God, that you test the heart and have pleasure in uprightness. In the uprightness of my heart I have freely offered all these things, and now I have seen your people, who are present here, offering freely and joyously to you. O LORD, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, our fathers, keep forever such purposes and thoughts in the hearts of your people, and direct their hearts toward you, 1 Chron 29:17,18.
 
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 we first moved here, we were surrounded by twenty acres of woods on each side.  We sat at the table and watched deer grazing at the edge of the woods while we ate breakfast.  Our garden was pilfered by coons and possums that could ruin two dozen melons and decimate a forty foot row of corn overnight.  We shot rattlesnakes and moccasins, and shooed armadillos out of the yard.  At night we listened not only to whippoorwills singing and owls hooting, but also to bobcats screaming deep in the woods.

              Then one morning I walked out to the chicken pen to gather eggs.  I stepped inside warily because the rooster had a habit of declaring his territory with an assault on whoever came through the gate, and as I watched for him over my shoulder, I realized that my subconscious count of the hens was off by one or two.  So I scattered the feed and carefully counted them when they came running to eat—one, two, three, four…nine, ten, eleven.  One was missing.

              I scoured the pen.  No chickens hiding behind the coop or under a scrubby bush.  I checked the old tub we used to water them just to make sure one had not fallen in, as had happened before.  Nothing quite like finding a drowned chicken first thing in the morning, but no chicken in the tub.  Then I left the pen and searched around it.  On the far side lay a trail of feathers leading off to the woods, but Keith was away on business and there wasn’t much I could do.  The next morning I counted only ten chickens and found yet another trail.

              We were fairly sure what was going on.  So when he got back home that day, he parked the truck up by the house, pointed toward the chicken pen, and that night when the dogs started barking, he stepped outside in the dark, shotgun in hand, and flipped on the headlights.  Nothing.  Every night for a week, he was out with the first bark, and every night he saw nothing.  But he never stopped going out to look.  At least the noise and lights were saving the chickens we still had.

              Then one night, after over a week of losing sleep and expecting once again to find nothing, there it was--a bobcat standing outside the pen, seventy-five feet across the field.  Keith is a very good shot, even by distant headlight.

              I still think of that trail of feathers sometimes and shiver.  I couldn’t help hoping the hen was already dead when she was dragged off, that she wasn’t squawking in fear and pain in the mouth of a hungry predator.

              Sometimes it happens to the people of God.  We usually think in terms of sheep and wolves, and the scriptures talk in many places of those sheep being “snatched” and “scattered.”  It isn’t hard to imagine a trail of fleece and blood instead of feathers.            

              I think we need to imagine that scene more often and make it real in our minds, just as real as that trail of feathers was to me.  Losing a soul is not some trivial matter.  It is frightening; it is painful; it is bloody; it’s something worth losing a little sleep over.  If we thought of it that way, maybe we would work harder to save a brother who is on the edge, maybe we would be more careful ourselves and not walk so close to the fence, flirting with the wolf on the other side.

              Look around you today and do a count.  How many souls have been lost in the past year alone?  Has anyone bothered to set up a trap for the wolf?  Has anyone even acknowledged his existence?  Clipped chickens, even as dumb as they are, do not fly over a six foot fence, but a bobcat can climb it in a flash and snatch the unwary in his jaws.  Be on the lookout today.
 
I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. John 10:11-15
 
Dene Ward

A prevalent religious tenet says that we can do nothing to earn our salvation.  Now as far as that goes, it is correct.  The scriptures teach us that nothing we can possibly do will ever merit the salvation of our souls.  That is how bad sin is to the Divine Nature of God.  But that doctrine we were discussing goes on to say that obedience plays no part in our salvation at all, that to obey any command is to try to earn salvation, almost as if obedience were a bad thing.

              Common sense comes to the rescue.  How in the world can anyone possibly think that God will accept a disobedient child, especially a deliberately disobedient child?  My women’s class found at least two dozen passages in the Bible to back up this little bit of wisdom.  It took far longer to read them all than to find them, and concordances and topical Bibles put together by men who actually believe that nonsensical doctrine were a big help in finding those opposing passages.  Do you see a problem with this picture?  It takes distortion of epic proportions to put this doctrine together.

              That is not the biggest fallacy though, to my mind.  If I somehow had a hundred thousand dollar automobile and told you that you could have it if you would only drive me home first, would you for a minute think you had earned that car by doing so?  Of course not, unless you think that your time is worth a whole lot more than I do—almost $100,000 an hour in fact.  But I bet every time I needed a ride to the doctor, you would be more than happy to offer it.

              To ever equate baptism and good deeds with earning salvation is to completely misunderstand the seriousness of sin, to demean the sacrifice of Christ, and devalue salvation.  Obedience can never earn the sacrifice of Deity becoming flesh, living in a world of indignities, becoming subject to sin, temptation, and death, and finally being tortured and killed by the very beings He created.  Nothing is equal to that sacrifice, or to Eternity in Heaven with God.  Yet that very fact ought to make us even more diligent in our obedience, not less.

              No, living a faithful life, overcoming temptation, putting up with persecution on its various levels, or even dying for our Lord will never earn us a spot in Heaven, nor will menial tasks like baptism either.  What we do for God is out of gratitude for a salvation we could never have managed on our own and will never be worthy of, except as He has made us worthy with a forgiveness we do not deserve.  But if we think the ingratitude of disobedience makes us worthy, we’ve simply lost our minds.
             
Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, Come at once and recline at table? Will he not rather say to him, Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I eat and drink, and afterward you will eat and drink? Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty. Luke 17:7-10.
 
Dene Ward

Wives of probation officers learn to live with a lot of things, including fear.  As certified law enforcement officers their husbands regularly go into neighborhoods that well-armed policemen will not enter without back-up.  Yet they do it on a regular basis to keep track of their caseload, making sure they are where they are supposed to be and not out getting into trouble again.  Keeping the community safe by supervising convicted felons is their job.  They knock on doors every day, never knowing who might answer, or what condition they might be in (drunk, high, angry) and what they might be carrying with them.  Yes, it’s illegal for them to have a weapon, but they broke the law already, remember?  One time Keith came upon one of his people parked in front of a convenience store with a shotgun in the front seat next to him.
 
             One of the other rules for the probationer is never to go near their supervising officer’s residence.  Most of them have no idea where their officers live anyway, and the office is not allowed to pass out that information, but when you live in a tiny rural county where practically everyone is related to or otherwise knows everyone else, they don’t even need a phonebook to find their officer.  Twice I have had one of those people knock on the door, once when Keith had already left for work.  That is why I always lock my doors when I come inside, and why, since we had a fence put up, we lock the gate 24/7.

              It’s a habit now.  I come in the door and shut it with a twist of the wrist and it’s locked.  I don’t even know I’ve done it. In fact, one time I walked outside to do something and locked myself out without realizing it. 

              On the weekends, I regularly lock Keith out too.  He will be chopping wood or mowing the yard and I come back in from taking him a jug of water and—flip—it’s locked.  I don’t know until I hear him knocking at the door.  He never gets angry; he always says, “Good job,” and goes about his business.  Now if I didn’t respond to his knock that might be a different story.

              Acts 6:7 tells us that many of the priests were “obedient to the faith.”  That word “obedient” is the same Greek word used in Acts 12:13.  Peter had been miraculously released from prison and went to Mary’s house, where the church had met to pray.  He knocked at the door and Rhoda came to “answer”—that’s the word “obedient.”  Just as a knock on the door requires a response, the gospel knocking on our hearts requires one too.

              First, let me praise poor little Rhoda.  This was a time of danger for the church.  Two had been arrested and one of those already killed.  The use of the word “maid[en]” or “damsel” tells me she was unmarried and therefore quite young.  Yet she is the one who was sent to answer the door.  What if it had been Herod’s soldiers?  Then she finds Peter standing there and is so excited she forgets to let him in.  It takes others coming to respond to the continued knocking for Peter to actually get into the house.

              A lot of charlatans who claim to be preachers of the faith will tell you that all you have to do is look out the door and recognize the Lord and you will be saved.  Faith is merely mental assent, with perhaps a lot of excitement thrown in, too much to actually get the door opened, to prove its sincerity, but this word requires some action.  Those priests in Acts 6 were “obedient” to the faith.  They responded completely and fully to whatever was asked of them.  “Mental assent” is not an appropriate response to the gospel, any more than me looking out the diamond-shaped pane of glass at my locked-out husband and waving, “Hi!”

              How many professional athletes have you seen wearing crosses and “thanking their Lord” before going out to live exactly the way they want to instead of the way He wants them to?  Too many.  But what about those of us who do not live with such public scrutiny?  How many times do we tell the Lord, even after having “obeyed the gospel” as if it were a one-and-done deal, I’m happy to serve as long as it doesn’t cost too much money or take too much of my precious time, as long as everyone does things my way (which is the only smart way), or calls me every day to check on me and take care of my every whim?

              The Lord is knocking on the door and He wants far more than your words.  He wants all of you, your heart and your life, your total submission to His way of doing things.  Don’t just nod at Him through the peephole.  Either answer the door and let Him in, or allow Him to go on to someone who really wants Him there.
 
As many as I love, I reprove and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent. Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. He who overcomes, I will give to him to sit down with me in my throne, as I also overcame, and sat down with my Father in his throne. Revelation 3:19-21
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
I said this before we passed out the Lord’s Supper a couple of weeks ago.

Often when we come around this table, I am filled with shame. Being raised as an American with a belief in my own independence, freedom and rights I often feel rebellious toward God. “Why should I have to give up what I want to do? Why should I sacrifice for Him? Why should I submit to His will?” It is something I struggle with. Then we gather around this table and I’m reminded of what God sacrificed so I could be called His child. I’m reminded of how Jesus submitted His will to God’s and what He gave up for me, and I’m ashamed. I’m fussing about giving up a few hours of TV time to study His word so I can teach when Jesus sacrificed a few decades in Heaven so I could be saved from sin? And I’m reminded again, as this symbolic meal was meant to do, of why I should be overjoyed to submit to and sacrifice for Him.

But I’m ashamed of my rebelliousness. I see my rebelliousness in relation to His love and I feel no higher than a worm in the muck. Then I’m reminded of Psalm 113:

Vs. 5-9 “Who is like unto Jehovah our God, That hath his seat on high, That humbleth himself to behold The things that are in heaven and in the earth? He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, And lifteth up the needy from the dunghill; That he may set him with princes, Even with the princes of his people. He maketh the barren woman to keep house, And to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye Jehovah.”

The whole point of God’s sacrifice was to raise us up out of the muck. To set us with the princes. He raises us up.

This table reminds us of the ridiculousness of our failures and sins, but it also reminds us that we serve a God who will reach down and pull His people up out of their sins and set them among the royalty of His people.
 
Lucas Ward

In case you don't really understand Irma's magnitude, from east to west, it was 650 miles wide—the Florida peninsula averages 130 miles in width.  15,000,000 people in Florida alone were without power.  25% of the homes in Key West were completely destroyed, another 65% incurred major damage.  70,000 sq miles were impacted by at least tropical storm force winds.  The highest winds recorded were 185 mph.  That speed was maintained for 37 straight hours.  Over six million Floridians were told to evacuate.  Another few million did so voluntarily.  The score calculated by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) when measuring the power of hurricanes was 66.8, compared to 11.1 for Hurricane Harvey, and we all watched the devastation from that one (statistics from "Breaking Down Irma by the Numbers" on architecturaldigest.com).

              That is what we Floridians had to look forward to as Irma approached our coasts.  In the past we have had Category 2 and 3 storms hit the coast and, by the time they reached us, diminish to Category 1 or even mere tropical storm force (which is not as "mere" as it sounds when you are in the middle of it).  This one was to hit as a 5.  Everyone told us it would still be a 3 by the time it reached us.  That is why we counted our home as lost, carefully packing what was most important to us in the car and truck and moving them as far from the trees as we could, out into the field. 

              That is also why we spent the night that Irma came through in the car.  Would the car be blown over with us in it?  Possibly.  But far better that than being crushed under a thousand pound limb falling on the house, or being injured or maimed by the flying glass and debris when the roof blew off.  So as darkness fell and the wind and rain picked up, we scampered out to the car and climbed inside. 

              The backseat was crammed with a cooler and two boxes, so lowering the seat backs for a better sleeping position was minimal.  We clasped hands and said our final "together" prayer, and then did our best to go to sleep, which amounted to me being quiet for Keith, who was being quiet for me, as both of us sat/lay there with our eyes wide open, each praying our own continuous private prayer all night long.

              We had left the porch light on for our trip out into the field.  We are used to utter darkness out here in the country, no traffic lights, street lamps, or passing headlights, so that light was intrusive, but it also gave us a small sense of security.  Imagining what was going on would have been much worse.  Finally we both drifted off out of sheer exhaustion from the days of preparation before as well as a cold we had shared that week, and when I woke again I had to use the flashlight to see my watch.  It was 2:30 and the porch light was out.

              We had no idea what was happening, where the storm was, how strong it was.  Several times in the night, the wind howled a bit more loudly and the car rocked.  What surprised me was that behind those thick clouds a full moon actually filtered through, casting a soft gray light and it was no longer black as pitch as it had been earlier.  Still, we could not tell what was happening.

              After a couple of hours we drifted back off again, rocking in our metal cradle.  At seven, almost as if an alarm had gone off, we both opened our eyes to dim daylight.  We looked out the rain-dribbled windshield and saw a 35 year old manufactured home all in one piece.  No debris, no missing roof, no broken windows.  Lots of yard trash, but no monster limbs crushing anything.  Keith got out into the rain to start up the generator and I flipped on the car radio.  The storm had weakened much more quickly than expected.  If it passed over Gainesville as a Category 1, by the time it reached us, it was to the west and down to tropical storm force winds. 

              Keith came back for me then, and we rolled up our pant legs.  The waters were running off all around us nearly six to eight inches deep as the property drained, but we stood there and hugged each other and shouted a thank you over the slackening wind and rain, tears running down our faces.  God had answered all those prayers, and if you think one thank you was all He got from us, you still don't understand hurricanes and the One who made them.  Even now, over a month later, we are still saying thank you.

              And what did we learn from that?  A question popped up in our minds.  How many times have we said thank you for the sacrifice our Lord made to save our souls in the same fashion we said thank you for his saving our physical home, and a humble one at that?  How many times have we grabbed each other in pure, unadulterated joy and wept real tears over our salvation?  Once, maybe, at our baptism; another time or two when a particular sermon or talk hit us right between the eyes.

              We've been mulling that over for several weeks now.  I hope this week has helped you consider it, too.
 
Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift. (2Cor 9:15)
 
Dene Ward

While the boys were still at home, we raised pigs and chickens.  The chickens we kept mainly for their eggs, but when one stopped producing well, it was time for chicken and dumplings.  The pigs were meant for meat from the time they were piglets.  We named the males Hamlet and the females Baconette to remind us.  You don’t want to get close to an animal destined for the dining table, but then adult pigs are so disgusting there isn’t much danger of that anyway.

              Slaughtering chickens is not quite as traumatic as slaughtering pigs.  They are birds instead of mammals, and they are small and don’t bleed as much.  We never shielded the boys from these things.  They needed to understand where our food came from.  I think there are some city people who must think meat is left in the meat markets in the night by elves the way they go on about the cruelty of ranchers and hunters.  When you understand where it comes from, you respect the animals and appreciate them much more than you would otherwise.  Both of our boys love animals and treat them kindly but they are strong-minded enough to understand necessity too.

              Lucas learned that respect in a more difficult way than we intended.  When it was time to put down a pig, Keith got up early, killed the animal and bled him as quickly as possible, and then loaded it on the trailer for the trip to the butcher.  Three hundred pounds of dead weight meant he needed help. 

              When Lucas was finally big enough to actually help load, he went out with his dad to the pigpen and soberly watched the proceedings.  Mindful of the effect it might have on him, Keith quickly poured sand on the blood.  Then he backed the truck and trailer over to the pigpen gate and Lucas crawled in on the other side to help load the pig—stepping right into that camouflaged pool of blood.  It rose around his ankles, warm and sticky.  After his dad left for the butcher, he came in to wash his feet, a little green around the gills and pale as a ghost.  He really understood the sacrifice that pig had made to feed our family.

              I suppose that is why the Lord intended for us to have a weekly reminder of the sacrifice he made for us, in all its gore.  Too often in asking forgiveness we are like the city folks buying meat at the grocery store, not really understanding all that made that purchase possible.  We need to come to grips with the fact that our actions caused a death, a particularly horrible death.  Even more than that, we are the reason for it yet again every time we sin.  The way we treat our failings as something to laugh about or shrug off as trivial, we probably need to stand beneath that cross and step ankle deep in the still warm blood of Jesus to jolt us back into reality. 

              Sin is just as horrible as slaughter.  In fact, it caused a slaughter which will prevent another one, but not if we don’t have enough appreciation for it to make ourselves do better.
 
He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah has laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, yet when he was afflicted he opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth…Yet it pleased Jehovah to bruise him; he has put him to grief: when you shall make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of Jehovah shall prosper in his hand. Isa 53:5-7,10
 
Dene Ward