A few years ago, some young parents we knew had a child whom they discovered was legally blind.  It was possible that nothing could be done for that child, even with glasses or lenses, to correct his vision.  Because I was a child who was visually disabled myself, I wrote this letter to them.  I thought it might also be a help to you or someone you know who has a child who is disabled in any way.  Feel free to share it with anyone it might possibly help.

We were so sorry to hear about your little one’s condition.  When your child is hurt, there is nothing quite like the pain in your heart.  Any loving parent would instantly trade places to spare him.  We will continue to think of you and especially to pray for your comfort, and that your precious little one gets the help he needs, and perhaps even less disability than you have been told.  Our God can indeed work wonders.

            But for now, may I please be so bold as to offer you a little advice?  My current vision problem did not just suddenly start—I was born with it, but no one realized it, not even my parents.  In those days children were not checked as often or as completely as they are today.  As a result, my parents treated me exactly like they would have any child.  The first four years of my life I saw nothing but a blur of color, but I was the only one who knew that, and of course, I thought everyone was that way and did not complain.  I was, in fact, legally blind, yet I still learned to feed and dress myself.  They were able to potty train me.  I memorized quickly because I couldn’t see, and that has stuck with me, at least until now when age has affected it some.  Still I probably remember things better than most people my age.

            Even after they realized something was wrong, the doctor himself did not recognize exactly what the problem was, just that “she has really bad vision.”  You probably know something about magnification in lenses.  My magnification was +17.25 and that only got me to 20/40 on a good day, and that was not even the worst of my issues.  Yet I still learned to function.  When you can’t see well you notice things that other people don’t. 

            Even with correction I couldn’t see faces across a lawn or a parking lot or even a large room.  But I knew people by their walks and hand gestures.  If I had seen them earlier in the day, I remembered what they wore.  I couldn’t read street signs, but I knew there was a tree on that corner, or a pothole just before the turn.  You adapt when your survival, whether life and death or simply getting along in society, depends on it.

            Even if I eventually lose it all, which is probable, I still plan to be independent as long as possible.  I will probably be a widow someday, but I do not want to live with anyone, or in some care facility, until it is absolutely necessary.  I feel that way because of how I was raised.

            You need to give your child that same spirit of independence.  One thing is good and I say this from experience:  since he was born this way, he will not know what he is missing.  Don’t you make him miserable by treating him like there is something missing.  The best gift you can give him is the one my parents gave me, even if it was accidental:  treat him like a normal child.  He is normal; normal for him!  Help him learn how to get along.  Push him.  Tell him he can do it, even when you aren’t sure he can.  You’d be surprised what can be accomplished simply because a person thinks he can.  This is the loving thing for parents in your position to do.  Babying him is not.  I will be forever grateful that I was not babied—it has made me strong and able to bear far more than most.

            Now comes the hard part:  don’t let anyone baby him, and that includes grandparents.  You may have to put your foot down once in a while.  Do not be afraid to tell them, “No.”  You can do it kindly and with respect, but you have to be the one who stands up for your child against anyone’s misguided attempts to shelter him.  He is your child and God will hold you accountable for his care.  You might need to remind them of that once in a while. 

            Treating him as a normal child will also mean disciplining him that way.  It is hard enough to scold or spank the little hands of a perfectly healthy child.  You must be strong enough to do this.  Your child is counting on you to turn him into a faithful child of God and save his soul.  If you let him have his way because of his “problem,” you are only creating more problems for him to overcome—you are not loving him like you think you are.  I am forever grateful to my parents for not turning me into a selfish, and self-absorbed, adult.

            God has a purpose for all of his children, and your little one will grow up better able to serve those who have disabilities than those who have none ever could.  He will understand and sympathize and think of things that other people do not—another thing that Keith and I have discovered as our disabilities have increased.  No one even thinks to consider what we can or cannot hear, can or cannot see.  Only the disabled give us that consideration. And thus the disabled are enabled to help others.  But he won’t perform that service if you raise him to think that he is the center of the universe because of his disability.

            Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you.  Do not be too proud to use Blind Services or anything else offered to you.  It is not sinful to take help.  It will be nice to know that someone who really deserves our tax money is making use of it.  And do not be afraid to ask for whatever help you need from your brothers and sisters in the Lord, including us.  That’s why God put us here.

            We are praying for you as you take this journey.  It will be hard at times, but other times it will bring you even more joy than the parents of the perfectly healthy children.  Just you wait and see!
 
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. 2Cor 1:3-4

Dene Ward

We have experienced much in our forty some odd years of married life.  Joy, sorrow, excitement, abject terror, tornadoes, hurricanes, and floods, violent crime, automobile accidents, trips to the emergency room, frightening health issues, life-changing disabilities, serious economic woes, persecution on several levels—all of these and more have shaped us into who we are today.  I do my best to share with you what we have learned, and though we may have seen a lot, it still isn’t everything.  We can tell you some hair-raising stories, but we still consider ourselves blessed beyond measure.

            That’s one reason God gave us so many narratives in the Bible, so many faithful followers who have lived through practically every experience it is possible to live through. He has also given us people much closer to us, who set examples we can see every day.  Today I want to share with you a couple who went through one of the worst experiences in life—losing a child--and came out gold in God’s eyes. 

            My in-laws lost their little girl to cancer.  She went to the first day of school barely a month after her ninth birthday and had a seizure.  After a year of treatments and surgeries, even thinking for a while that the doctors “got it,” she died at 10.  I am not privy to everything that went on during that time.  But I did notice some things in them that seem to run counter to many of the things I have heard and read about experiences like this.

            First, Keith’s parents did not divorce.  Undoubtedly there were hard times.  I have seen that just in our marriage and the things we have dealt with.  Everyone grieves over losses in a different way and when I decide that my way is the only right way, there will be problems.  When I decide that my grief is worse than his, there will be problems.  When, “You just don’t understand,” becomes a wall instead of a bridge, you just might have reached the end.  However they managed it, the thought of divorce for these two never entered the picture.  This was a couple who understood lifelong commitment as they had vowed before God, “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part,” and they were determined to make it through no matter how difficult it became.   

           I wish I could give you specifics, the things they did that helped and the things they did that did not, but that was long before I knew them.  This I know:  They had a strong marriage, and however they managed it, they did it “together.”  The communication seems never to have stopped, even though I am sure it was occasionally painful.  They had each other and they made sure that the hurt drew them together instead of driving them apart.  They were married just a few months months short of 60 years when my father-in-law passed away first. 

            Second, this couple did not lose their faith.  Their commitment to God came even before their commitment to each other.  They did not expect a life of ease and they never had one.  They endured poverty, estrangement from family because of their faith, and many serious illnesses, some near death, besides this horrible illness of their child.  But they believed in the resurrection.  They knew they would see their child again, and that was a primary source of faith and encouragement.  Keith remembers hearing, “This is what we believe” more than once during that period.  And now they are enjoying the results of that faith, together with that lost daughter, and they will never lose her again.
 
           And then there was this:  they did not let this tragedy define them as a couple or a family.  Of course they remembered their little girl and spoke of her often.  I heard many “Remember whens” and other references.  Her name often came up in casual conversations.  They were more than willing to help those who had similar situations and better able than most to offer the needed sympathy, but it never became an entitlement issue.  They did not think they ranked above any other family because of the things they had suffered.  In their minds, we all suffer, just differently.  And they felt their own brand of suffering made them responsible to be examples and sympathizers with others, not worthy of praise and admiration—not “special.”  Pain and death come from Satan and they would never have given him any credit in any way imaginable.  In fact, if anyone had tried to compliment them for how well they had come through the grist mill of life, it just might have made them angry. 

           Of course this experience changes you.  Life changes you, but something like this makes that change happen rapidly.  Keith told me they were different than before, but “different” isn’t always bad.  I could still see all these good things I have shared with you when I came on the scene over ten years later.  Isn’t it funny how it all turns out?  I was the same age as Keith’s baby sister, born the same year, and my birthday was the date of her death.  Nowadays people would have expected traumatic results, and analyzed it to pieces.  But they never even mentioned the coincidences.  If Keith hadn’t told me, I would never have known what they had been through, and the rest of their life story came out slowly over the years, most often from listening to Keith reminisce, not them. 

           Even through all their trials they stayed faithful to God and each other.  In fact, Keith’s father was converted several years into their marriage, when they had already faced some challenges.  None of this “health and wealth” sissy gospel for him.  But then, this was a man who jumped out of an LST and waded through the water to the beaches of Normandy, walking all the way to Berlin.

           I hope that you never experience the horrible tragedy of losing a child, but you will suffer something.  That is the nature of life.  When you do, here is a godly couple whose example might help you through it.  Did they do everything right?  No, and they would never have claimed to.  But they did do this:  They never gave up on their relationship, and they never gave up on God.  That is how they made it through.
 
Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him that is alone when he falls, and hath not another to lift him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have warmth; but how can one be warm alone? Eccl 4:9-11

Dene Ward

I had a bad spell earlier this spring, a time when I had more pain and could see even less than my new “normal.”  So I sat by the window and watched the birds.

            The sparrows, which usually prefer to fend for themselves in the summer, still flitted and darted by, or sat right down in the trough full of birdseed, being too short to reach from the sides of the feeder.  One little fellow was having a terrible time keeping his balance, though.  More often than not, he fell over in the seed, fluttering and scattering grain up and around, “stoning” his companions with their meal.

            The second time I saw him, he was on the wooden ledge of the feeder, right next to the window on what should have been flat, even footing.  Still, he could barely stand up straight, and often rested on his stomach, heaving great sighs of exertion that puffed up his little breast like a pair of overwrought bellows.  The next time he stood I leaned as closely as I could to the glass and finally saw his problem.  He only had one leg. 

            This little fellow was severely handicapped, despite his wings.  He couldn’t hop just an inch or two without teetering dangerously.  He couldn’t get from one side of the feeder across the trough to the other without flapping his wings and causing consternation among his closest dining companions.  Perhaps the worst problem, he could not fly up to the suet cage and hold on with just one foot.  He kept falling off.  So he tried to hover a couple of times, flapping his wings as hard and fast as he could but was unable to get high enough to reach it. 

            I understood why he didn’t just nestle in the seed and eat to his heart’s content.  The bigger birds often flew low across him, trying to scare him away, and his fellow sparrows would jump at and peck him.  In the animal kingdom compassion is nonexistent.  So this little guy had to fend for himself and do the best he could.  I looked for him every day, wondering how long he would last before a bigger, stronger bird decided it wanted what he had and didn’t care what it took to get it.

            All of us have been one-legged sparrows at times.  We have problems.  We experience trials, pain, and suffering, both physical and emotional.  Just like that little sparrow, we often try to fend for ourselves, refusing to admit when we need help.  I don’t want to let someone close enough to find out what’s going on in my life.  It would make me look bad.  I might have to admit I am not perfect. 

            It’s humiliating to admit my marriage is in trouble.  It’s embarrassing to admit I have a weakness that is about to cost me my soul.  I am ashamed to tell people that I have a problem with my attitude, to communicate my feelings in an intimate manner.  You know what?  Most of the time they know it already, but we cannot get the help we need if we won’t let people in.  Refusing to admit weakness may be the biggest sign of weakness there is--it takes strength to admit we need help.

            I have a theory about all this.  If I cannot ask my brothers and sisters for help, I probably don’t have a real relationship with God either.  The same humility that allows us to go to others also allows us to admit our sin and ask God for grace and forgiveness. 

            A sense of independence may be the worst thing for your spiritual life because Christians must realize they cannot do it alone—whatever “it” is.  God expects them to trust and rely on him.  He has given us a spiritual family designed to help each other.  Christians understand that hopping around like a one-legged sparrow doing his best to survive on his own will ultimately lead to destruction.
           
Behold my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved with whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles. He will not quarrel or cry aloud, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets; a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory, Matt 12:18-20.
 
Dene Ward

If you are from north of the Mason-Dixon line, please don’t leave!  I have converted not only several children, but several Northerners to this Southern delicacy.  It’s all about taking the problems and turning them to your advantage--and being patient.

            The problem with okra, if you’ll pardon the expression, is the slime.  One reason it was used in gumbos was its thickening power, which is a nicer way of referring to that viscous property.  My family just calls it what it is.  It doesn’t bother them because they know what I can do with that--stuff.

            Follow these directions closely.  Use a colander, not a bowl, when you slice it.  You will still get the goo on your knife and a little on your hands—my method won’t fix that—but it will disappear when you cook it.

            Slice it about a half inch thick, discarding the stem end and the tails.  If it has been in the fridge a few days, it might need a little coaxing to release some of its “juices.”  If so, put that colander in the sink and scatter a few drops of water here and there from a wet hand.  Don’t deluge it.  If it’s already good and gooey, don’t bother.  Sprinkle it with salt, then with flour, not corn meal.  (My mother taught me that and we are both GRITS—Girls Raised In The South.)  Stir it to coat.  Now walk away.  In five minutes come back.  If it’s dry, do the water trick again, just a sprinkle.  Add more salt and more flour and stir it again.  Walk away again.  You may need to do this several times, allowing the excess flour to fall through the holes in the colander into the sink where you can wash it away—loose flour will burn in the bottom of a skillet. 

            After about fifteen minutes and maybe as many as five applications of flour and salt, the flour will have adhered to the “slime” and, magically, the okra will have made its own batter.  It will stick together in clumps like caramel corn, which is exactly what you want.

            Heat a half inch of vegetable oil in a skillet—no higher than medium high.  Put in one piece of okra and wait till it starts bubbling and sizzling.  Slowly add only as much okra as there is room in the pan.  Since it tends to stick together, you will need to mash it out to spread it around.  Now walk away and leave it again.  No fiddling with it, no turning it, no stirring it. 

            In about ten minutes you will begin to see browning around the edges.  When that happens you can start turning it.  The second side will brown faster, as will the entire second batch.  Watch your oil; you may need to turn it down if the browning begins to happen too quickly.  Drain it on paper towels. 

            You will now have the crunchiest okra you ever ate.  No slime, no weird flavor, nothing but crunch.  You cannot eat this with a fork—it rolls off, or if you try to stab it, it shatters.  This is Southern finger food, a delicacy we eat at least twice every summer before we start pickling it or giving it away.  Too much fried food is not healthy they tell us, but everyone needs a lube job once in awhile.

            The trick to that okra is patiently using the problem itself to overcome it—given enough time, that slime makes a batter that is better than anything you could whip up on your own with half a dozen ingredients.

            Patience is a virtue for Christians too, not just cooks.  How do you make it through suffering?  You patiently endure it (2 Cor 1:6), and you remember its purpose and use it for that purpose.  Patiently enduring suffering will make you a joint-heir with Christ (Rom 8:17,18).  It will make you worthy of the kingdom (2 Thes 1:4,5).  If we suffer with him, we will reign with him (2 Tim 2:12).  Only those who share in his suffering will share in his comfort (2 Cor 1:7). 

            But none if this works if you don’t patiently endure the suffering.  If you give up, you lose.  If you turn against God, he will turn against you.  If you refuse the fellowship of Christ’s suffering, he will refuse you.  We must use that suffering to make ourselves stronger and worthy to be his disciple. Just like I am happy to have a particularly “slimy” bowl of okra to worth with, knowing it will produce the crunch I want, the early Christians “rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer,” Acts 5:41.  They knew it would make them better disciples of their Lord.  We can understand these things when it comes to something as mundane as fried okra.  Why can’t we recognize it in far more important matters?  We even have a trite axiom about this—when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.  When life gives you trials, make yourself a stronger person.

            After suffering, Peter promises that God will restore, confirm, strengthen and establish us (1 Pet 5:10).  He is talking to those who endure, who use the suffering to their advantage and become better people.  Remind yourself of the promises God gives to those who suffer.  Remind yourself of the rewards.  Remind yourself every day that it’s worth it.  The New Testament writers did, so it is no shame if you do it too.
 
The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs--heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Rom 8:16-18.
 
Dene Ward

A couple of times when I was young my family, together with my aunt, uncle, and cousins, shared the rent on a house in Daytona Beach for a week.  It was an ordinary cement block house, probably built in the 50s, two bedrooms, one bath, a living room and kitchen.  What made it worth renting was its location—right on the beach.  Every morning we four girls were out building sand castles and playing tag with the waves, floating on the undulating water just past the sandbar or diving below to play shark attack on one another.  We all smelled of suntan lotion and seaweed, coconuts and salt, and only came in for lunch and an afternoon of card games and board games during the worst of the heat, and were back out again in the evening when the sea breeze cooled enough to give us a shiver after once again dunking ourselves in the brine.

            Our parents got the two bedrooms, but we girls didn’t mind sharing the floor in the small living room, the gray, white-streaked linoleum tiles covered with quilts, the floor beneath crunching with a little grit despite all the sweeping our mothers did every day.  You live on the beach, you WILL have sand.  At 8 I was the oldest and usually the last one asleep.  No air conditioning in those days meant the windows stayed open wide and I loved listening to the roar of the ocean.  Over and over and over, the steady pounding of the surf gave me a feeling of security.  I did not have to guess if the next wave would roll in; all I had to do was wait for it, and eventually it lulled me to sleep.

            Fast forward to a time thirty years later.  We were camping on Anastasia Island, a beach 60 miles further north.  The state campground was still small back then, only one section just a few feet off the dirt trail to the beach, acres of palmetto groves separating it from the bridge to the city streets of old St Augustine.  The boys had their own tent, and as we lay in ours once again I listened to the surf crashing onshore, just as it had all those years before.  Over and over, as steady as a ticking clock, as a piano teacher’s metronome, as a heartbeat on a hospital monitor.  All those years and it had not stopped.

            And then another twenty years passed and we two spent a weekend on Jekyll Island.  This time we were too far from the beach to hear it in the night, but after a wonderful meal at the Driftwood Bistro we stopped on the beach for a walk and there it was.  The wind whipped around our legs and plastered my hair across my face, gulls screamed over us in the waning light, and the waves were still coming in, again and again and again, just as they have since the dawn of time.  They never stop.  Some days they may be rougher than others.  Some days the sea may look almost calm.  But check the water’s edge and that lacy froth still creeps onshore in its never-ending cycle.
Thus says the LORD, who gives the sun for light by day and the fixed order of the moon and the stars for light by night, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar— the LORD of hosts is his name: ​“If this fixed order departs from before me, declares the LORD, then shall the offspring of Israel cease from being a nation before me forever.” Jer 31:35-36

            Jeremiah tells the people that God will restore his nation and establish a new covenant in the verses just preceding those, a covenant in which their sins will be “remembered no more.”  He uses the stability of the natural phenomena that He created as a guarantee of His promise.  Only if the sun stops rising, if the moon stops shining, if the waves stop rolling in, can you discount my promises, He says.  That guarantee counts for all of God’s promises.  He never changes, we are told.  He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, so yes, He will keep the promises He has made to us of redemption, of protection, of spiritual blessings and a final reward.

            Are you a little blue today?  Has your life been upended in a way you never expected, in a way you can hardly bear?  The sea God made is still roaring.  Those waves are still rolling in just as they have for generation after generation after generation.  The white caps you see are the same your parents saw and your grandparents and your great-grandparents on back to your earliest ancestors.  And God is still faithful to His people.  Close your eyes, listen to that perpetual roar, and breathe a little easier tonight.
 
I am the LORD your God, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar— the LORD of hosts is his name. ​And I have put my words in your mouth and covered you in the shadow of my hand, establishing the heavens and laying the foundations of the earth, and saying to Zion, ‘You are my people.’” Isa 51:15-16
 
Dene Ward

Since late last year it has begun to look like things are on a downward trend.  Before long there may very well be more surgeries, even riskier than before.  I usually cope fairly well, but one morning the blues hit particularly hard.  I was out with Chloe and came upon the morning glories.  We saw more blooms that day than any before, at least five shades of blue and purple, and a lilac-throated white as well.

            Why I did it, I don’t know, but I began assigning names to each blossom, names of people who have been special blessings to me during this journey toward blindness.  At first I thought I would run out of names before I ran out of blooms.  Higher and higher my eyes roamed, spotting another and another, and yet another bloom ten feet above the ground.  When I ran out of blooms I still had a dozen names left over.

            Suddenly my steps became springier and my mood brightened.  Look how many people have been there for me, driving me all over, picking up medications for me, sending cards, calling, bringing meals, giving me an encouraging word, and often a hug, even helping me with some of the earlier expenses that the insurance company wouldn’t touch, and always praying. 

            “My grace is sufficient,” Jesus told Paul when he had prayed for the thorn to be removed.  “It doesn’t need to be removed; you just have to trust that I will help you through it.”  He has certainly given me ample help.   

            Too many times, instead of looking up to count the blooms, I am looking down to count the weeds.  Do you know what?  There were far more blooms than weeds that morning, and it is so in my life as well.  In fact, some of those blooms once were weeds, but through the grace of the Lord working in our lives, the two of us managed to make a new relationship that we both count as blooms now.  In some cases, the grace that made this happen were the very trials we prayed to have removed.

            So today, as you walk through your life’s garden, don’t look down and count the weeds.  Look up and count the blossoms that hang from the vine of Christ’s grace, the grace he promised would help you overcome, would make you stronger, and would cover any weaknesses you still might have after giving your all.  Put a name on every one of those blossoms.  I imagine you will have names left over too, names you forget about when your mind stays too long in the weeds, people who have made the hard times easier to bear, and who will hold you up when life beats too hard for you to stand on your own. 

            God is the reason those blooms are there, as He sheds yet more grace into your life, promising that nothing will happen that is too hard for you to bear, and that you will never have to bear it alone.        
 
Fear not for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand,  Isa 41:10.
 
Dene Ward

In Florida “winter” means very little, but a year or so ago we had a different sort of winter—long cold spells with lows below freezing and highs only in the 40s, and frosts as late as April.  Snow fell in the panhandle and in the north central peninsula.  Usually we are sorry to see the heat return, but that year we were longing for it.

            The spring was different too.  The azaleas bloomed two months later, and all at the same time, so profusely you couldn’t even see the branches.  The blueberries had more fruit on them than any time in the five years past.  The hostas not only came up again but multiplied, sending up four plants where each one plant sat the year before.  The spring wildflowers were beautiful, turning fields first into blankets of blue and lavender, then red and maroon, and finally pink and white.  The oak pollen fell so thickly the lawn looked like wall to wall brown carpeting.  And the garden produced better than it had in years.

            I wondered, could one thing have to do with the other?  Could a long, hard winter be the cause of good crops and beautiful flowers in the spring?

            And they arrested [Peter and John] and put them in custody until the next day because it was already evening.  But many of those who heard the word believed and the number of men came to about five thousand, Acts 4:3,4.  That is not the only case in the New Testament where rapid growth of the kingdom followed hard on the heels of persecution.  A long hard winter of trial always seemed to make for a springtime of growth among God’s people. 

            Then there is the personal aspect.  I have seen so many times how a personal trial has led to spiritual growth in a Christian.  I have experienced it myself.  Something about trial inures us to the pains that might otherwise cost us our souls.  We grow stronger little by little, gradually learning the lessons of faith, endurance and strength in the service of God.

            That may be why I cringe when I see a young mother turn every little scrape on the knee or cut on the finger into a life-threatening crisis worthy of the loudest wails, instead of helping her child learn to laugh it off.  I have seen too many of those children grow into men and women who complain about everything that does not go their way.   If it’s okay to whine and cry like the world is ending when you fall and skin your knees, why isn’t it okay to scream at other drivers who get in your way?  If it’s okay to pout and mope when you don’t get to play your favorite video game, why isn’t it okay to complain long and loud when the boss asks you to work overtime?  If it’s okay to pitch a fit when some mean adult tells you to straighten up, why isn’t it okay to stand in the parking lot complaining about the church, the preachers, the elders, and anyone else who doesn’t see things your way?

            God needs people who are strong, who can take pain and suffering for His sake, who understand that their way doesn’t really matter if it is not His way, and that the good of the kingdom and its mission may have nothing to do with them having an easy, perfect life here in this world, but everything to do with a perfect life in the next. 

            Just as with everything else, our culture is affecting us.  The strong silent type who can take the worst the world has to offer and keep going is no longer the hero.  Instead we reward jerks and boors and idolize intemperance.  Prodigality and lavish lifestyles are our measure of success; striking back is our measure of character, and throwing tantrums is our measure of strength. 

            I see a day coming when the church will once again be in the middle of a long, hard winter of persecution.  The way we are going we may not survive it at all, let alone have a bountiful spring, because trials and persecution only work to build strength when you learn from them.  They only produce character when you have the toughness to take the bad with the good without whining about it.

            What kind of spring will you have next year?
 
And not only so but we rejoice in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation works steadfastness; and steadfastness approvedness; and approvedness hope; and hope puts not to shame, because the love of God has been shed abroad in our hearts through the Holy Spirit which was given unto us,  Rom 5:3-5.
 
Dene Ward

Jesus told a story that even the most Biblically ignorant people in the world have heard.  We call it “The Good Samaritan.”  Most of us have never actually been in the shoes of either of these men.  Oh, we may have been on the side of the road with a flat tire or a broken fan belt or an overheated radiator, and maybe someone even stopped and helped us, but I guarantee you we have never filled every variable of this example.

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him, and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’ Luke 10:30-35.

Understand this:  Jew and Samaritan was even worse than black and white, and maybe even Jew and Gentile.  “On all public occasions, Samaritans took the part hostile to the Jews, while they seized every opportunity of injuring and insulting them…they sold many Jews into slavery…they waylaid and killed pilgrims on their road to Jerusalem.  The Jews retaliated by treating the Samaritans with every mark of contempt; by accusing them of falsehood, folly, and irreligion; and…by disowning them as [being] of the same race or religion, and this in the most offensive terms of assumed superiority and self-righteous fanaticism” (Edersheim, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah). 

These two men not only disagreed politically, they disagreed religiously as well.  Their people hated one another, mistreated one another; they were violent and malicious in every way possible.  Yet here is one who finds himself in need and his “enemy” takes care of him.  And not just minimally.  The Samaritan left “two denarii” to care for the Jew.  A denarius was a day’s wage for a skilled laborer—think carpenter, plumber, or mason in our day, and now think of what those men make an hour and multiply it out for two days’ worth of wages.  That is the equivalent of what the Samaritan left for a complete stranger, and an enemy at that.

Now think today of someone who fits that description—a stranger who is a member of an enemy nation, one that is violent, who hates us, and who is also of a different religion.  Do I have to spell it out?

So you drive by and see someone on the side of the road who is obviously one of those people by his looks and dress—or maybe at the last rest area you saw him on his prayer rug looking to the east so you know exactly what he is.  What are you going to do?  If Jesus’ story does not apply here, it applies nowhere.
The posts I have seen by some of my brethren on facebook appall me.  I do not see a kind people who would care even for those we disagree with, as Jesus did when he healed Malchus’s ear, but an angry people who would wish them harm.  What are we thinking?  “Stop this!” Jesus told Peter when he drew his sword.  “Any who take the sword will perish by the sword. Matt 26:52.
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Jesus also described the citizens of his spiritual kingdom this way:  You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, ​so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. ​For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? ​You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect. Matt 5:43-48  

I never thought that passage would actually mean something to me someday.  I don’t have enemies, at least none who might wish me harm, but that possibility is becoming more and more real, and that means that passage is becoming one we may have to use one of these days.  Do not become like the unbelievers who ignore the entire Bible by ignoring this one verse in your own life.  The same God wrote it all.

In the Roman Empire Christians often gave themselves away because they were kind not only to their own, but also to their pagan neighbors, even those who had been unkind to them.  Everyone knew, “Only Christians do that.” 
Is that what they would say about you?
 
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them… Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Rom 12:14-21
 
Dene Ward

It’s spring and that means the tarps that have been protecting things for several months need to be laid out to dry, folded, and put up.  It’s spring and the plastic sheeting needs to be set up over the small, early, garden plot because we will have another frost or two.  It’s spring and that means the breezes are blowing and nothing will stay where you put it for any length of time at all.

            In late February Keith was out in the field laying out the tarps and plastic to dry in the sun, and trying to weigh down the corners with buckets and tools and anything else that came to hand.  He had managed three or four all by himself before dinner, and then I walked out with him afterward to see the freshly tilled garden and the early plot he had set out.  He bent to secure one corner of plastic just as the breeze increased and blew it right out of his hand.  I leaned down to help on my end only to have it, too, blown from my grasp.  He got hold of his corner as I chased mine around in a circle.  Finally we each had a corner and bent to secure them with handfuls of moisture-heavy garden dirt, only to have a particularly strong gust blow it free yet again.

            Three or four tries later we had the early plot covered and secured, the plastic stretched over a line three feet off the ground that ran down the middle to make a small greenhouse of sorts.  We were clothes-pinning the center where the “door” of our teepee met on either end.  Even that took a few tries followed by pinched faces and hunched shoulders waiting for the breeze to once again undo it all.  It held!

            “Whew!” he exclaimed.  “This kind takes prayer and fasting.” I looked at him with a rueful smile, and wondered how many prayers he must have prayed before I got there to help.

            You know, of course, that he was referring to Matt 17:21.  The disciples could not cast a demon out of a boy, but Jesus could.  For their lack of faith they received a stern rebuke, yet Jesus added that it was a particularly difficult demon to cast out.  Sometimes you will have to work harder than others, he seemed to mean by his comment about prayer and fasting.

            And occasionally overcoming a temptation is more difficult than at other times.  Sometimes it’s the circumstances.  If you are tired, or in pain, or grieving, or in any number of other situations, you may have a more difficult time passing the test.  Sometimes it’s the test itself.  Some things bother us more than others, pushing the buttons that most easily cause a reaction.  Sometimes it’s the “help.”  How many times has someone offered the advice to “calm down,” only to have that very advice cause the opposite reaction in spades?

            But notice this about that narrative in the gospels:  Jesus still expected those disciples to have mastered the demon and tossed it out.  Yes, it’s a hard one, he said, but you could have done it if you had enough faith.

            And so can we, if we are in the correct frame of mind.  There is always a way of escape.  It is never more than we can handle.  It doesn’t matter what the test is, what the circumstances are, or how many other well- or even ill-meaning people get in the way. So here are a few suggestions that might help all of us.

            Know your hot buttons and avoid them.  How many times do the Proverbs call people fools who go blundering about their lives without even a thought where they might be headed?  How many other times are the “fools” the ones who go to difficult places with the arrogant notion they won’t be trapped like everyone else?

          If you cannot avoid these difficult situations, then prepare yourself before you get there.  If that means looking at yourself in the mirror and giving yourself a good talking to before you leave the house, then do it.  If it means praying before you leave—always a good idea—do it. 

          Then, don’t forget what you did the minute the door shuts behind you.  Nothing changes because your surroundings did.  If it means quoting scripture all the way through the situation itself, or singing hymns, do it.  Do whatever it takes.

          Don’t blame your failure on anyone else.  “I was doing fine until you came along and…” won’t change the bottom line.  You blew it.

          Do not give yourself an out of any kind.  “He deserved it [my tirade],” would cause you a lot of pain if it were said of you and God followed through on it—we all “deserve it” whatever “it” we might be talking about.  Don’t feel sorry for yourself because it was “hard.”  Do not ever excuse yourself if you failed.  You will never improve if you do.

          Know yourself.  Know what might take “prayer and fasting” to overcome.  God expects it of you, just as He did those apostles.  He expects you to succeed.  And you can.
 
Save yourself like a gazelle from the hand of the hunter, like a bird from the hand of the fowler. Prov 6:5
 
Dene Ward

Today’s thought-provoking post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
Jn 3:16 For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believes on him should not perish but have eternal life.

”Comforting words,” “The Central and golden text of the Bible,” I have heard that verse described.   But, for years, I have missed a most important and significant point that it teaches:

If God loved the world so much that he would crucify and slay his Son by the hands of lawless men in order to save it, what would he do to me (or you), his “sons,” in His loving pursuit of the salvation of the world? There is absolutely no limit other than His mercy that “There is no temptation taken you but such as man can bear”. With Job as witness, that is a lot!

These thoughts may help explain why good people suffer. God is using Satan’s works to bring about His purposes, just as he did with Job and at the cross. Who knows how deafness, blindness, lost jobs, dying spouses or children, or any other number of trials bring about good toward someone else’s salvation? We see most of these as purposeless. But God who works, KNOWS.  Our part of the equation is to believe that and trust.
 
Keith Ward