My two grandsons love to go to the park.  They love to swing and slide.  I’m not sure they have discovered the joys of my own childhood favorite—the seesaw.  Back then I was always looking for someone else to sit on the other end, and seldom found the perfect playmate.  She was always either too heavy or too light to balance it out, and one of us always hit the ground with a bang.  As for the boys, I usually put both of them on one side while I sit on the other, carefully balancing things with my own legs so they don't bounce off the top and I don't hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud.
            Over the years I have come to see that God requires His own kind of balance.  Nearly every major fault of His people has come with that old pendulum swing—from one extreme to the other.  From undisciplined emotionalism to empty ritualism, from faith only to works salvation—we struggle all the time to get the balance just right.  “Obedience from the heart,” Paul calls it in Rom 6:17.  And it has been so for thousands of years.
            In our Psalms class, we came upon another passage recently that emphasized yet again the problem of balance.  Over and over and over you read things like this:
            …you have tested me and you will find nothing; I have purposed that my mouth will not transgress, 17:4
I have kept the ways of the Lord and have not wickedly departed from God, 18:21.
            Vindicate me, O LORD, for I have walked in my integrity, and I have trusted in the LORD without wavering, 26:1.
            It always bothered me a little when I saw passages like this, especially the ones written by David, as these three are.  Isn’t he being a little arrogant?  Especially him?
            But, as with all the Bible, you have to put things together to find the balance point.  Psalm 130, one of the Psalms of Ascents, certainly shows the opposite feeling:  If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? v 3.  After that, another quickly came to mind:  Enter not for judgment with your servant; for in your sight no man living is righteous, 143:2.
            The psalmists all seemed to understand the balance.  No one deserves salvation, but yes, we can be righteous in God’s eyes when we do our best to serve Him, when obedience is offered willingly, when adoration, reverence, and gratitude are the motivations behind every thought and action, when we don’t just do some right things, we become righteous.  The author of Psalms 130 goes on to say, “But there is forgiveness with you…” and “with Jehovah there is lovingkindness and…plenteous redemption.”          
            These men saw that salvation was a matter of a relationship with God, not ritualistic obedience nor self-serving obsequiousness, both of which are more about “me” than the God I claim to worship.  They proclaimed the balance that would fall before the Lord in reverence and service and yet stand before a Father singing praise and thanksgiving. 
            And I love that they did not feel required to offer qualifications to what they said.  “I am righteous,” they said, not bothering to add, “but I know I have sinned in the past, and may sin in the future.”  They never let the false beliefs of others compel them to soften a strong statement of faith in their Lord to do what He says He will—be merciful.  Why are we always dampening the assurance of our hope by pandering to the false teaching of others?  Let’s strive for perfect balance with this long ago anonymous brother:  With Jehovah there is plenteous redemption, and he shall redeem us!
 
Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, Whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom Jehovah does not impute iniquity, And in whose spirit there is no guile, Ps 32:1-2.
These things have I written…that you may know you have eternal life, 1 John 5:13
 
Dene Ward

A couple of years ago, Keith received a veteran’s pass to a Tampa Bay Rays game in St Petersburg.  (By the way, there may be a Green Bay, but there is no such town as Tampa Bay.  Tampa Bay signifies an area on the central west coast of Florida, usually including Tampa, St Petersburg, Clearwater and their suburbs.) 
            But the game was at the end of the season after the Rays’ play-off hopes were gone.  At first you would think it wouldn’t be much of a game, but you would be wrong.  Young players who had been called up from farm teams for the expanded September rosters were playing for a place on the major league team next season.  Older players were playing to show their worth, either for a contract renewal or for another team to show some interest in a trade.  Established players were playing for personal records—a better ERA, consecutive years with a certain number of home runs and RBIs.  I knew it would still be a game worth watching.  No one would be “phoning it in.”
            But imagine there was nothing left to play for.  Imagine they were just playing out the season because it was a contract requirement.  How many home runs would you expect?  How many wins?  And how many fans would bother to show up at all?
            Some of us play at the game of life like that.  We look at our meager accomplishments, at the few years we have left, and decide there is nothing worth living for, nothing worth working for, nothing to look forward to but day after day of waking up to uselessness until one morning you don’t wake up at all.  And as far as heaven goes?  We seem to hope we have enough warning before death to shoot off a last prayer for forgiveness because surely that’s the only “hope” we have.
            Too many of us have bought into the world’s idea of hope—something insecure, uncertain, and probably not going to happen at all. Go out tomorrow and plant a seed.  Now read 1 Cor 9:10:  the plowman plows in hope.  What do you think is going to happen to that seed you planted?  You “hope” it will grow.  If a farmer hoped the way most of us hope, he would never plant in the first place.  “Hope” in the Bible means something is going to happen, and you are simply waiting for it, waiting like someone standing at an established bus stop at the established time, not someone who just guessed what route the bus takes and which corner it might stop at and when, and “hoping” you guessed correctly.
            By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance…for he was looking forward to the city that has foundations who builder and designer is God…these all died not having received the promises but having seen and greeted them from afar, Heb 11:8,10,13.  Could wealthy Abraham have given up a comfortable home to live in tents the last half of his life, could he have stood on that mountain ready to sacrifice his son if he had just crossed his fingers and “hoped” he had a future beyond this life?  No, he had Biblical hope.  He knew he had a reward waiting.
            And so do you—something even better than moving up from Double A, or even Triple A, to a permanent place on the roster of a major league team, and something a whole lot more certain—even if your batting average isn’t quite as high as the next guy’s, even if all they can count on you for is a sac-fly every so often instead of a grand slam.  You still have something to play for, a place “prepared from the foundation of the world,” one that will be there no matter who wins the pennant.
 
And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises, Heb 6:11-12.
 
Dene Ward
 

I am constantly shocked by the way people, including Christians, treat the Bible.  We act like God wrote it in some way other than normal communication.  I have actually heard these things come out of the mouths of believers:  “Jesus never used figurative language.”  “You won’t find irony in the Bible.”  “Sarcasm is neither present nor allowed in the scriptures.”  And because of that you will hear some of the weirdest interpretations of scripture imaginable.
            We knew a man once who said that since Jesus said you should not “let your right hand know what your left hand doeth,” that you should reach into your pocket before the plate is passed and take out whatever you find without looking at it.  I wonder how he got whatever was in his pocket in there that morning without knowing what it was, or did he make sure nothing over $10 was lying on top of his dresser?           
            But you will also find those who deny there is any literary aspect to the scriptures at all.  Try studying the psalms in detail and see if you think that’s so.  The psalms are poetry.  Like all poets, those inspired poets used poetic elements to make them catch our fancy, speak to us more keenly than prose would, and make us think deeper thoughts than we might have otherwise.  You have fed them with the bread of tears and given them tears to drink in full measure.  Doesn’t that say more to you than, “These people are really upset”?
            One place this is obvious are the fifteen Psalms of Ascents.  Psalms 120-134 are presumed to have been sung while the Jews traveled up the hill to Jerusalem to worship on the various feast days.  The word for “ascents” is the same Hebrew word translated “steps” in Ezek 40:26 and 31, as in the steps of a staircase.  One psalm in particular uses words to show these steps.
            Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD! O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy! If you, O LORD, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared. I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning. O Israel, hope in the LORD! For with the LORD there is steadfast love, and with him is plentiful redemption. And he shall redeem Israel from all his iniquities.  Psalm 130.
            Imagine each of the following words, taken in order from the psalm above, sitting on the steps of a staircase from bottom to top:  depths, pleas, iniquities, wait, hope, steadfast love, plentiful redemption.  Now add this to the mix:  the word for “depths” is used several times in the scripture for the deepest places on earth, including the very bottom of the ocean.  And that implies a man’s complete inability to get himself “out of the depths.”  All through this psalm we see the literary devices of the poet, gradually pulling us out of the mire we are stuck in and up the staircase to the place of full—and even more than necessary, “plentiful”—redemption.  God didn’t barely save us, He pulled us up on top of the mountains.  Read through that psalm again now.  Can you see it?  Can feel it? 
            God is the one who made us able to appreciate art of all kinds, including literary art.  He gave us the emotions that a good artist of any type can evoke.  It’s one of the things that makes you different from your dog!  God wrote the Bible.  He made you and made you able to communicate.  He speaks to us the way He knows is best for our understanding.  Who am I to say otherwise?
 
The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person discerns all things…1Cor 2:14-15.
 
Dene Ward

I have about given up trying to figure out what they are, a white flowering weed, one to three feet tall on a wiry stem with long blade-shaped leaves, most near the ground, but a few here and there along the plant's length.  The one-eighth to one quarter inch rayed white flowers, like tiny daisies, cluster at the top, sparsely, not in a close bunch.  I have found several "almosts" in my wildflower book, just like them but—wrong leaf shape or wrong color or wrong size bloom or wrong blooming season—nothing that matches in every single aspect.  But I suppose that's fine because I have been trying to get rid of them anyway.  I like wildflowers, but only those that give you a big bang for the buck, so to speak, phlox, gaillardia, fleabane, rudbeckia to name a few.  These white ones don't fill the bill and they shade out the lower growing prettier ones as well.
            These white things, which remind me a little of baby's breath but without the profusion of blooms, have just about taken over the field south of the garden, and threatened to take over my carefully planted wildflower patch.  They nearly covered a spot about eighty by thirty, a little wider in some places, a little narrower in others.  I stood there looking at that wave of white and thought, "I could never pull up all those weeds."  But then I thought, "Well, maybe not in one day."
            That was four days ago.  Since then, after my morning elliptical walk, I have gone outside and pulled a swathe from west to east, then back from east to west, every day.  That's about all this old lady can stand, especially in the Florida sun.  In fact, coming back to the house, though only a slight grade uphill, felt more like a forty-five degree mountain. 
            The first day, the only way I could tell I had done anything was my aching back.  But by the beginning of the third day, the browning piles of discarded weeds encouraged me on an extra half hour.  And today, watching what was left of that white patch get smaller and smaller, kept me at it until it completely disappeared.
            Was it easy?  No.  Not only did my back give me grief, but a time or two I didn't pay enough attention and grabbed a blackberry vine along with the weed, ripping my hand with its thorns.
            Did I completely rid myself of those unwanted weeds?  No.  In fact, this morning I was greeted by a couple of new ones in places I had already worked, probably because of a seed already planted or a stem I had merely broken instead of pulling up by the roots.  But those very few plants were obvious in that clean expanse of green and quick and easy to pull.
            And then, of course, there is the neighbor's property just over the fence, and he obviously doesn't care if he has a field full of white weeds which will inevitably spread our way unless I keep on top of it every time even one of them jumps the fence.
            So what is the lesson today?  Don't listen to the nay-sayers, the ones who tell you that you will never be able to overcome sin, that even the best of us "sins all the time."  Deity did not become flesh, live a humiliating life and die an ignominious death so we could all continue "sinning all the time!"  Anyone who tells you otherwise, leaving you discouraged and ready to quit, is a minister of Satan not the Lord.
            You may start out with a field full of white weeds that looks invincible.  Just work at it every day, yanking those tares out of your heart one by one.  Will it be easy?  Paul said that even he had to "buffet my body to bring it into subjection" 1 Cor 9:27.  It is hard work, but stop once in a while and measure your progress.  Pat yourself on the back just once or twice, and then get back to work before you get too full of yourself.
            Am I saying that it is really possible to overcome temptation, to grow spiritually to the point that you sin less and less?  No, but God is:

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.  (1Cor 10:13).
Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that you should obey the lusts thereof: neither present your members unto sin as instruments of unrighteousness; but present yourselves unto God, as alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God.  (Rom 6:12-13).
What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?  (Rom 6:1-2).
My little children, these things write I unto you that you may not sin…  (1John 2:1).
And I could fill up pages with these things!
           
            Will you still slip occasionally?  Probably, just like those white weeds still pop up here and there once in a while.  Sometimes a seed was sown or a root left in the ground.  But if you don't think it is possible to improve, that after twenty or thirty years you are still "sinning all the time," something is wrong.  Maybe it is a faulty definition of sin; maybe you are deceiving yourself about how hard you are really working at it; maybe you have so saturated yourself with the Calvinistic doctrine of total depravity that your friends, the television evangelists, and most of the commentaries espouse—the ones you think are harmless and "say some really good things"--that you can't see the truth God has written for you. 
            So start pulling your weeds today.  The first step is the most painful—really looking into our hearts and identifying the things we need to fix--specifically.  Then get to work, little by little, one day after the other, with determination and steadfastness.  You CAN do it, because the one who has the power to raise Jesus from the dead is helping you.
 
Having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, (Eph 1:18-20).
 
Dene Ward

This is one of our favorite times of the year—the garden is booming and dinner will always be a treat of things we can only enjoy now, when the vegetables are truly “vine-ripened” and the price is perfect—just a lot of sweat.
            One night we will have stuffed bell peppers in a fresh tomato sauce with green beans on the side.  The next we will have eggplant parmigiana with a squash casserole on the side.  Later in the week it will be a country veggie plate of butterbeans, sliced tomatoes, roasted corn, fried okra, and a big wedge of cornbread.  Pasta night will feature a fresh tomato sauce with fresh oregano and feta cheese or a simple cherry tomato sauce with fresh basil.  Then there will be the times we try something new, like today’s grilled eggplant and red onion sandwich on a toasted multi-grain bun with lemon aioli and a big slice of tomato plus pita chips and baba ghanoush (a dip of grilled eggplant and tahini) on the side.  As the rest of the vegetables die off, we will still have the Italian plum tomatoes and enjoy a pizza with homemade crust and homemade tomato sauce, plus a few late season peppers and some Italian sausage.  A few nights later, we will do the same thing, but fold it over and make a calzone out of it with the sauce on the side.  Yes, this is one of our favorite times of the year.
            But now we are seeing that it will have to end sometime in the near future.  Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s our age, maybe it’s a combination of the two, but all this good food isn’t worth sacrificing our health for, much less our lives.  Someday soon we will have to buy canned and frozen foods at the store like everyone else instead of using the preserved items we have labored over for three months every year. 
            Which all serves to remind us of what we have lost and why.  By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” Gen 3:19. 
We sweat a lot over this garden.  Some days I think it is watered more by us than the rain.  That is as it should be, for sin deserves far worse punishment than that and every one of us has participated in it.  It is by God’s mercy that we plant in the spring when we have a cool breeze and a sun that is not directly over us.  That same mercy grants us a salvation we do not deserve, and the help to make it through a life we have all but ruined from the beginning.  Why should we expect a perfect life now?  Why should we expect that things will always turn out right?  Someone has not been reading the same Bible I have.  It is grace that promises us that there is a perfect place in the future.  Don’t look upon that hope with ingratitude because you cannot have it now.  We have only ourselves to blame.
            But in the midst of the toil, the sweat, the thorns and thistles and weeds, we enjoy a few weeks of some of the best meals in the world—not gourmet feasts, not something concocted by a celebrity chef—but the plain and simple fare that comes straight from the ground and reminds us of the provision God has made “for the just and the unjust,” not because He had to, but because He wanted to.  It also reminds us of the garden we will return to someday, and never have to leave again.  If you don’t have your own garden, head to the farmers’ market this week and remind yourselves that God still loves us.  This is the way it is supposed to be, and it can be again.  It’s up to you whether you get to enjoy it.
 
Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned…But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if many died through one man's trespass, much more have the grace of God and the free gift by the grace of that one man Jesus Christ abounded for many…For if, because of one man's trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ, Rom 5:12,15,17.
 
Dene Ward

We have a neighbor who loves to fish.  In fact, he fishes so much that he cannot possibly use all the fish he brings home.  Lucky for us!  I now have an unending supply, usually of sea trout and shrimp, some of the best stuff out there.  When he brings it home, he even cleans it before he calls.  Amazing!  But someone has to do some messy work in order for anyone to enjoy the fruits of fishing.  Unless you go to a fish market, or the seafood section of your local grocer, or, even easier, the freezer case.
            Maybe that’s our problem—we’ve been to too many fish markets.
            Seems like when we go fishing for men, we don’t want anything messy.  The only ones we look for are the WASPs with nuclear families, unfettered by problems of any sort.  That’s where we build our meetinghouses, pass out our meeting announcements, and do our mass mailings.  We don’t want people with built-in problems, people overcoming addictions, people with messy family lives, people with “big bad sins” in their history.  No one wants a “high maintenance” convert who needs our support, our encouragement, our patience, and certainly not our time!  In fact, once a long time ago, Keith was chastised for “bringing the wrong class of people to church.”
            To whom did Jesus go?  Now all the publicans and sinners were drawing near to him to hear him, Luke 15:1, and I seem to remember a woman who had been married five times and was living with another man, John 4:18.  Would we have even given them the time of day?
            Jesus only appeals to those who need him, and unfortunately, people who have no “big” problems, no obvious needs, seldom think they need anyone.  It usually takes a crisis to wake them up.  So why are we so insistent upon turning our efforts to teach the gospel to the very ones who are least likely to listen?
            Maybe we no longer want to be fishers of men.  The “cleaning” is too messy, too difficult, too heart-wrenching, and too time-consuming. Instead of being fishers of men, as the old saying goes, we just want to be keepers of the aquarium, with a built-in filter (preacher) and someone else to feed the fish (elders and class teachers) so we can swim around in a pretty glass box with plastic mermaids and divers, and live our lives unbothered by things like helping one another grow to spirituality, and scraping the algae off our souls. 
            Maybe we have forgotten, or never even knew, the mindset of the first century church—a dynamic group of people, spreading God’s word to everyone they met, trying to take as many “fish” as they could to Heaven with them, regardless of how messy their lives were. 
            Maybe someone needs to come fishing for us again.
 
And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with the sinners and the publicans, said unto his disciples, “How is it that he eats and drinks with publicans and sinners?”  And when Jesus heard it, he said to them, “They that are whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick.  I came not to call the righteous, but sinners,” Mark 2:16,17.
 
Dene Ward

It was absolutely necessary.  We had no choice.  My numbers had been up the past two visits, once dangerously high, so we could not afford to postpone the check-up.
              We prepared ourselves carefully. I tucked the hand sanitizer into my purse in an easily accessible side pocket.  Then Keith brought in the last two masks he had.  He keeps them on hand for working with pesticides and fertilizers, and when mowing the lawn.  Turns out they were N95s, and it was the first time we realized he had bought such good ones.  Then he grabbed a glove and a plastic bag because we would need to pick up the mail from our rural box down by the highway when we drove back in.
              When we arrived at the medical center, we donned our masks—a major ordeal for me since I am claustrophobic.  Every time that mask commercial comes on TV vaunting its ability to "keep out pollen, bacteria, and dust," I add to myself, "And air."  I could feel my pulse rising the moment I put the thing on and Keith stood next to me, rubbing my shoulders while whispering, "You can breathe, you can breathe, you can breathe." 
              We were met at the door by two masked nurses who bombarded us with questions, none of which my 90 % deaf husband could hear because their lips were covered and he had nothing to "read."  Seems no one ever thought about that problem before.  Finally they took our temperatures and sent me on to the front desk to stand on a black X, well over the required six feet away from the woman who registered me, so that we had to practically yell my information at one another to accomplish the deed.  So much for patient privacy.
              And so it continued at every phase until we finally arrived back home five hours later to wash up and sanitize once again.
              That's when it came to me.  We really do not understand the meaning of the prefix "pan."  I just looked it up to be perfectly sure.  "Involving all members of a group," I found.  We are being so very careful—staying home, wearing masks, standing six feet apart or behind sneeze guards when necessary to be together at all, perpetually washing hands, pouring out hand sanitizer like water, some greedily hoarding staples from their neighbors.  I wonder what would happen if we were that careful about the only true pandemic there is—the one that effects every single person on the planet, not just a relatively small percentage—SIN.
              What might happen if we spread the news about its contagion and the truly exorbitant fatality percentage?  What would happen if we isolated ourselves from anything that even bordered on it, anyone who carelessly sneezed it on us or our children?  Would we anxiously read up on it (in our Bibles), memorize the symptoms, and tell anyone who would listen what we had discovered?  Would we be as willing to hurt ourselves economically and socially to avoid a spiritual virus as we have these past few months to avoid a physical one?
              And what does the answer to those questions tell us about the state of our souls?  Even as the effects of this physical virus begin to wane ever so slightly, understand this:  That spiritual virus has been around far longer and has claimed the souls of the vast majority of people who have ever lived on this earth.  Now THAT'S a pandemic.
              What will you do about that today?  Aren't you even a little bit frightened?
 
…For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, (Rom 3:22-23).
 
Dene Ward

While I was teaching music I was a member of several professional organizations.  My favorite was the local group which met seven times a year in members’ homes for business, some high-spirited performances, and a potluck lunch.  Once we met in a house just off the highway, down a lime rock road.  In the middle of the meeting, a rain came up—not just any rain, but one we around here call a “toad strangler,” several inches in less than an hour—they happen all the time in Florida. 
            The rain had stopped when it was time to leave and we took off down the dirt road shortcut in a caravan of cars headed to our various studios to meet the students for the day.  Suddenly, the cars ahead of me came to a halt, and ladies started climbing out, gathering together and peering up ahead.  I turned off the engine and joined the milling crowd at the head of the line. 
            Water had run across the road.  It had not cut a deep rut, and in fact, was a nice shallow-looking, easily fordable stream, but we had all lived in the country long enough to know you don’t just drive through water running across an unpaved road.  “Someone needs to walk out there and check the road,” was the consensus. 
            Have I mentioned that at 35 I was the youngest in the group by about thirty years?  Instantly, all heads turned toward me.  Having been silently elected, I slipped off my shoes and started across the newly created waterway.  I took five firm steps only to have to grab my skirt and hike it up over my knees as I sank exactly that deep on the sixth.  Instantly I had visions of those jungle movies I used to watch on Saturday afternoons as a kid, where the first one in the safari line sinks in the quicksand because, in spite of everyone telling him to be still, he wiggles and squirms and sinks before anyone can even think to cut a vine and use it to pull him out—or if some bright fellow does think of it, twenty people on the other end cannot out-pull the suction of a big mud puddle.. 
            A good minute later it dawned on me that my name was being called, and I still had not sunk any farther.  My feet had found a solid layer of hardpan about two feet below the surface so Tarzan swinging to the rescue was totally unnecessary.  I made my way back to the group with the most unladylike thwock, thwock, thwock noises as the suction released with each step.  We all carefully backed our cars down the one lane road, turned around in the driveway from where we had started and went the long way home, down the paved state highway.
            Hopelessness in the scriptures is often pictured as “sinking.”  Jeremiah prophesies that Babylon will sink and shall not rise again because of the evil I will bring upon her, 51:64.  Amos warns Israel that they are in for the same punishment: they shall sink again like the River of Egypt, 8:8; 9:5.  And all because of sin.  Even Peter, when he tried to walk on water, began to sink because of little faith and doubt, Matt 14:31.  And truly, just like sinking in the quicksand (at least in the old grade B movies), there is nothing we can do but hope a savior happens along.  Praise God, he has!
            The Psalmist pleads in 22:8 Commit yourself to Jehovah, let him deliver you; let him rescue you, seeing he delights in you.  In spite of the fact that, like an ignorant city slicker, we walked out into that mud on purpose, in spite of the fact that we ignored warning after warning, and kept right on wiggling and squirming, and even when we have been pulled out before, but keep stepping right back into the same pool of quicksand, Jesus is ready to hold out a hand and save us. 
 
Deliver me out of the mire and let me not sink… Let not the waterflood overwhelm me and swallow me up…Answer me, oh Jehovah, for your lovingkindness is good.  According to the multitude of your tender mercies, turn to me; and hide not your face from your servant, for I am in distress; answer me quickly. Psa 69:14-17
 
Dene Ward

When my boys were young they were enchanted with a movie called “The Never-Ending Story.”  You see, when the movie ended it started all over again, and then again, and again. 
            Maybe it’s because I am a woman that I never saw the appeal.  All I could think of was housework—laundry that needs washing over and over, shirts that need ironing again and again, dust that keeps settling, meals that need cooking three times a day.  Oh for something that when I finish with it will stay finished!
            I think the Old Testament Jews understood a little.  Have you ever read the complex procedure for the Day of Atonement?  You should sometime, and then think about the promise of a forgiveness that lasts forever.
            Every year the sins that were forgiven the year before were once again remembered against God’s people, and every year the pile grew bigger and bigger.  At least when I do the laundry, I know a shirt that I washed and ironed will not be back in the hamper until it has once again been worn.  Imagine if everything you ever washed got dirty again the next week just because clean would not stay clean! 
            The first century Jewish Christians surely appreciated the blessing of forgiveness far better than we can.  They had been waiting for that promise to be fulfilled for hundreds of years.  Behold the days come, says Jehovah, that I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah, not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers in the day that I took them by the hands to bring them out of the land of Egypt…But this is the covenant that I will make…says Jehovah:  I will put my law in their inward parts and in their heart will I write it, and I will be their God and they shall be my people, and they shall teach no more every man his neighbor and every man his brother saying, Know Jehovah, for they shall all know me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, says Jehovah; for I will forgive their iniquity and their sins will I remember no more, Jer 31:31-34.
            A high priest was coming who would offer himself, a perfect sacrifice that would cleanse each sin forever.  That pile of guilt would no longer build up on each one, becoming heavier and heavier, needing yet another sacrifice every year.  Think what that must have meant to a people who through the years had seen oceans of blood pouring down that manmade altar, knowing that next year, the same thing must happen again, not only for new sins, but for exactly the same old ones as well.  What a relief.
            And what a relief for us to know that God forgives and forgets, and that because of that wonderful blessing we can enjoy another “Never-Ending Story” that will remind us of a blessing, instead of a burden. 
 
And they indeed have been made priests many in number because by death they are hindered from continuing; but he, because he abides forever, has his priesthood unchangeable.  Wherefore also he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, seeing he ever lives to make intercession for them.  For such a high priest became us, holy, guileless, undefiled, separated from sinners, and made higher than the heavens, who needs not daily, like those high priests to offer up sacrifices, first for his own sins, and then for the sins of the people, for this he did once for all, when he offered up himself,. Heb 7:23-27.
 
Dene Ward

Medicine has come a long way since ancient times and it hasn’t stopped progressing.  As a patient who has a rare disease, I have had my share of experimental surgeries and procedures, and endured experimental medicines and equipment.  Sometimes it’s just plain scary, but when it works, it’s amazing.  I can still see, several years after I was expected to lose my vision.  It may not be great vision, and the after effects of all these procedures and medications may not be pleasant, but let me tell you, any vision is better than no vision, and you will put up with a lot to have it.
            Blood is one area where knowledge is still blossoming.  But just think of this.  Transfusions were not common until the turn of the twentieth century, and even then it had to be a live donor for an immediate transfusion.  It went on that way for nearly four decades.  Finally, Dr Bernard Fantus at the Cook County Hospital in Chicago performed several experiments and determined that human blood, under refrigeration, could last up to ten days.  Still not long, but enough for him to start the first blood bank on March 15, 1937.  Imagine the lives that were suddenly saved.  It must have seemed like a miracle.
            Medicine has progressed even further.  My little bit of research tells me that at 1-6 degrees Centigrade, blood can now be kept up to 42 days, and that some of it can be frozen for up to ten years.  I wonder if Dr Fantus had any idea what he had put into motion.
            But sooner or later that blood does become stale.  It is no longer usable to save lives.  And if there is a sudden loss of power that cannot be maintained with a generator or other power source, all of it will spoil almost immediately. 
            Imagine a blood that never loses its potency, that never becomes stale, that will always save. 
            For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf. Nor was it to offer himself repeatedly, as the high priest enters the holy places every year with blood not his own, for then he would have had to suffer repeatedly since the foundation of the world. But as it is, he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself, Heb 9:24-26.
            Jesus does not have to offer himself “repeatedly.”  He does not have to keep a fresh supply of blood handy.  The saving power of his blood lasts forever.  And what exactly does it do?
            It makes propitiation, Rom 3:23.
            It justifies, Rom 5:9.
            It brings us “near,” Eph 2:13.
            It purifies our consciences and makes us able to serve God, Heb 9:14. 
            It forgives, Heb 9:23.
            It cleanses us from sin, 1 John 1:7.
            Now understand this—it isn’t the fact that Jesus cut his finger one day and bled a little.  Blood in the Bible has always represented a death.  The blood that saves us is the death he willingly died on our behalf, because only a sacrificial death can atone for sin (Lev 17:11).  And we don’t have to worry about “types” and “factors.”  His blood will cleanse us from “all sin,” 1 John 1:7.
            Nowadays people want nothing to do with another person’s blood.  Everyone wears gloves.  But to gain the benefits of Christ’s blood you have to “touch” it.  How do you contact that blood?  You simply “die” with Christ.  Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life, Rom 6:3,4. 
            And that blood bank still works for us.  It keeps right on forgiving as needed, as we repent and continue to walk in him for the rest of our lives.         
            Only once--that’s all he had to suffer.  Our trips to the blood bank will likely be more than once, but may they become less and less often as we grow in grace and faith and love.  It will be there when we need it, but let’s not squander a precious gift, nor take it for granted. 
 
And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him, Heb 9:27,28.
 
Dene Ward