In this part of Florida we have a little bit of winter.  In fact, we have several spells each year with two or three days of gray, wet, cold that seeps into your bones and makes you wonder why anyone would ever nickname this place “The Sunshine State.”

            Then a morning dawns as clear a blue as you could ever imagine and the sun comes out in a blaze you would swear was even brighter than in summer.  The dog’s fur is warm from lying out in the field instead of burrowing under the porch, and you wish you could lie out there with her.  Now you know why it’s called “The Sunshine State,” and you also know no one up north has these respites, certainly not this degree of warmth in the middle of December, January, or February.  They also don’t have bright yellow jessamine cascading from the tops of trees, and camellias treating you to a mid-winter pink blossom that can withstand even a quick morning’s frost.

            Life is like that for Christians.  God never promised a life without trials any more than He promised a year without winter.  We do our neighbors a disservice when we tell them all their problems will go away if they just hand them over to the Lord.  Casting your burdens on him doesn’t mean they won’t affect you any longer—it means you have all the help you need to handle them.  Why would the help be promised if those problems were going to disappear?

            Paul said he served “the Lord with all tears, and humility, and trials” (Acts 20:19).  James tells us to “count it all joy when you meet trials of various kinds” (1:2).  Peter goes so far as to tell us it is necessary for us to be “grieved by various trials” (1 Pet 1:6) and not to think it “strange” when we are (4:12).

            But God does give us reminders of what is to come, things we might call a taste of Heaven here on earth.  He sends it in a strong, godly marriage with two people working together, laughing together, crying together, and growing together as they help each other toward that final Home.  He gives it in that first lusty cry from your child as he enters the world.  He reminds us of that first place we lost in the spring when the azaleas explode in all their color, when the dogwoods shine through the woods like a beacon, and when the birds sing in a cacophony of trills, tweets, chirps, and twitters as they fly back and forth building their nests.  He shows us what He has in store for us as we gather with our sanctified brothers and sisters and raise our hearts in song and encourage one another with love, with advice, and with edification to sustain us during those times not quite so Heavenly tasting.

            We cannot have Heaven now.  We wouldn’t want to give up this world if we did.  So we have troubles, we have tragedies, we grow old and ache and become aggravatingly forgetful and finally learn to long for our true abode instead of being satisfied with second best.  But God does remind us occasionally of how it will be, a little nudge in the right direction so we will eventually make it Home.
 
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, Col 3:1-2.
 
Dene Ward

Then Amos answered and said to Amaziah, “I was no prophet, nor a prophet's son, but I was a herdsman and a dresser of sycamore figs, Amos 7:14.
 
           Amaziah, the [false] priest at Bethel had just told Amos to go back to Judah.  They were tired of his scare tactics, what they viewed as rebellion against their king, Jeroboam II.  That is how we learn of Amos’s occupation.  While some view him as the owner of the sheep rather than the shepherd who actually slept outdoors watching his flock, you cannot get away from the humble position of fig picker.

            Sycamore figs (also spelled sycomore figs) were not the figs of the upper classes, but a smaller fruit, slightly sweet, watery, and a little woody.  This is what the poor people ate.  The only way a sycamore fig would ripen was for someone to pinch it, causing it to bruise.  About four days later it was fit to pick and eat.  Can you imagine anything much more tedious than pinching every single fruit on every single tree in an orchard?  Then going to the next orchard and doing it all again?  And again?

            As I was pondering this in our Tuesday morning class, I suddenly thought, “And isn’t that what happens to us?”  The only way for us to ripen as a disciple of our Lord is to be bruised.  In my ever increasing number of years, I have seen only those who reach their lowest point realize their need for God.  If I am proud, smug, self-reliant, self-righteous, all too sure of my own knowledge, I will never be able to prostrate myself before an Almighty Creator and commit my life, my belongings, MYSELF to Him.  I will never be able to take up the cross of self-denial and self-sacrifice and serve my Savior and my neighbor. 

            Some people have a stronger spiritual sense and can recognize their need for salvation quickly.  Their bruising is a bruising of the spirit that occurs when they recognize their sin and remorse hits them like that proverbial ton of bricks.  Others need a physical bruising.  You see it often when tragedy strikes—a serious illness, a devastating accident, the loss of a loved one.  A bruising in this physical life may be necessary for them to see the need in their spiritual lives.  I have often heard it said by preachers that the best time to reach your neighbor is in a time of tragedy, and the scriptures bear that out as well.

            Isaiah preached imminent destruction.  In the latter chapters of his book he tells those impenitent people that God will be waiting to take them back—not before the calamity, but afterward—after they have been bruised by a physical destruction the like of which they had never seen before.  That, after all, would be the time when they would finally listen.

            For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite. ​For I will not contend forever, nor will I always be angry; for the spirit would grow faint before me, and the breath of life that I made. Because of the iniquity of his unjust gain I was angry, I struck him; I hid my face and was angry, but he went on backsliding in the way of his own heart. I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will lead him and restore comfort to him and his mourners, ​creating the fruit of the lips. Peace, peace, to the far and to the near,” says the LORD, “and I will heal him. Isa 57:15-19.

            Ezekiel says much the same:  I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I myself will make them lie down, declares the Lord GOD. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them in justice,  Ezek 34:15-16.

            And who does Jesus offer His invitation to:  Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke on you and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Matt 11:28-29.

            And so each of us must face our bruising.  The more quickly we yield, the easier that bruising will be, not because trials will cease, but because our humble hearts will accept both them and the help we will have to face them.  We won’t be alone any longer, a state of affairs that only comes to the stubborn, who refuse to surrender to Divine love and protection.  Sometimes it takes a “fig-pincher” to help with the process, someone who, like the prophet Nathan, can stand before us and proclaim, “Thou art the man.”  And like the sycamore fig, we will ripen into the fruitful child of God each of us has the potential to become.
 
He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint, Isa 40:29-31.
 
Dene Ward

And a certain man of the sons of the prophets said unto his neighbor in the word of the LORD, Smite me, I pray you. And the man refused to smite him. Then said he unto him, Because you have not obeyed the voice of the LORD, behold, as soon as you have departed from me, a lion shall slay you. And as soon as he had departed from him, a lion found him, and slew him,   1Kgs 20:35-36.
 
           If you know your Bible, you know that is only the beginning of the story, but it was certainly the end of it for that second young prophet.  Here is the hard lesson we all must learn:  serving God is NOT for wimps.  Sometimes God asks for difficult things.  Sometimes they seem impossible.  But God expects the impossible from us—the things you cannot do alone, He will help you with.

            First century Christians understood this.  Many of them converted knowing they might be thrown into prison or even the arena within a week.  And us?  We want promises of health and wealth.  We demand a life where no one contracts a serious illness, where our homes never blow away in hurricanes or tornadoes, where jobs are never lost, accidents never happen, and babies never die.  We want the reward now—the perfect life in the perfect place.  Then we will consider serving God.

            It doesn’t work that way and it never has.  This prophet could not believe that God would ask him to strike his fellow prophet.  “Why God would never…” you can hear him thinking just as so many say today.  He found out there was something a whole lot worse when he didn’t have the gumption to do as he was told. 

            I have a feeling that a whole lot of people are going to meet the same lion he did.
 
As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.” And Jesus said to him, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God,” Luke 9:57-62.
 
Dene Ward

Rise up, you women who are at ease, hear my voice; you complacent daughters, give ear to my speech. In little more than a year you will shudder, you complacent women; for the grape harvest fails, the fruit harvest will not come. Tremble, you women who are at ease, shudder, you complacent ones; strip, and make yourselves bare, and tie sackcloth around your waist. ​Beat your breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine, ​for the soil of my people growing up in thorns and briers, yes, for all the joyous houses in the exultant city. For the palace is forsaken, the populous city deserted; the hill and the watchtower will become dens forever, a joy of wild donkeys, a pasture of flocks; Isa 32:9-14.

            The women of God’s people would not face facts.  They were going to be destroyed.  “Complacent” Isaiah calls them.  “Careless” the King James Version says.  That word means bold and confident.  Despite the facts, despite the preaching of God’s prophet, they did not believe they would be destroyed.  What I call it is “denial,” the haven of fear for some of us, and I have seen it often in my sisters.

            When they do not want to believe that a loved one will soon die, they blame everything on the doctors.  “They” are wrong, they don’t know what they are doing, they listen to the insurance companies too much, they are simply cogs in the big business of modern medicine and don’t care about patients anyway.

            When they don’t want to believe there is a financial problem, they place their confidence in how things have always been.  It never crosses their minds that times might have changed and they might need to cut down their costs of living, actually sacrificing a few things.  They believe that it will only last a few days and then things will be back to normal.

            When a family member or friend, especially when a child has gotten themselves into trouble, the accusers are lying, the teacher just doesn’t like my baby, the police have made trumped charges.  It cannot possibly be that someone I love actually broke a rule or committed a crime.

            Women used to be the strong ones.  When I think back to those hearty pioneers who traveled west, who left most things behind and lived on beans, bacon and flour for months at a time, who built fires for every bit of housekeeping from cooking to cleaning, who carried water several times a day, who worked dawn to dusk, then sat by a dim lamp to darn socks and mend shirts until they could no longer stay awake, I wonder what they would think of the spoiled women of luxury we have become—even those of us who don’t live in mansions and wear designer clothes.  I hear too many say, “I could never do that,” to think we are as strong as they were.  Too many seem unable to face facts, recognizing what needs to be done and doing it without a second thought, no matter how difficult it may be.

            What has happened to us?  At one of the places I spoke several years ago, I mentioned something that had befallen my family, something I had to do that I had never done before and wasn’t sure I could even do.  It was supposed to be an application of Prov 31:25: “Strength and dignity are her clothing.”  One of the women actually spoke up and said, “That’s where I draw the line.  No one could make me do that.”  What?  And so something that needed to be done and no one else was there to do it, would not get done?  And everything would be all right? 

Denial, false confidence, indifference, complacency, carelessly assuming things would go on just fine.  That’s what those women in Isaiah were doing.  Sometimes you have to be strong.  Sometimes you have to face the facts, no matter how awful they are.  Sometimes you are the one who has to act.  Don’t be the weakling who wrings her hands in despair or sits there confident that nothing is wrong when everything is.  Don’t let this oracle be meant for you.  
 
​The simple believes everything, but the prudent gives thought to his steps. ​One who is wise is cautious and turns away from evil, but a fool is reckless and careless, Prov 14:15-16
 
Dene Ward

I’m sitting in my camo-mesh lounge chair in front of a campfire, the flame whirling up in a mini-tornado, the smoke wafting down the hillside away from the tent site.  The sun peeks through the leaf canopy dappling the brown, red, orange, and yellow foliage-strewn ground just enough to moderate the cool air into [long] shirtsleeve weather.  Pieces of crystal blue sky show here and there, grayed occasionally by a patch of camp smoke.  The titmice nag at us from the saplings and bushes at the foot of tall pines, hickory, beeches, and red oak, while a woodpecker alternates his door-knock pecking and his manic laugh.

            The campsite could not have been laid out any better.  A long back-in approach left us plenty of room to unpack boxes, coolers, and suitcases, and still have room to stack firewood and set up tents on a perfect length tent site, something not always easy to find for a 16 x 10 tent.  The table fit nicely inside the screen and the fire ring is far enough from both the tents to avoid sparks.

            The park itself is beautiful, lakes, valleys, mountain tops to hike—no hike longer than three to four hours, some appreciably shorter.  The bathhouses are clean with plenty of hot water and strong sprays from large showerheads.  The campsites afford as much or as little privacy as one wants—take your pick.  It is quiet and peaceful, yet only ten minutes from grocery, gas, and pharmacy.

            We’ve been here six days now—perfect park, perfect campsite, perfect weather.  We haven’t even had our customary day of rain, nor even an overcast morning.  So this is not the trip to test our mettle as campers.  It’s all been way too perfect.  But you know what?  We won’t have many stories to tell from this trip.  Oh wait!  Our forty year old electric blanket did give out on us the first—the coldest—night.  And don’t you see?  That’s the story we’ll be telling—and that’s when we found out we were seasoned campers.  We shrugged our shoulders and snuggled a little closer together in the double sleeping bag.

            Peter tells us that God will test our mettle as His servants.  Wherein you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been put to grief in manifold trials, that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold that perishes though it is proved by fire, may be found unto praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ, 1 Pet 1:6-7.

            Too often, instead of passing the test, we use it as an excuse.  We say, “I know I didn’t do well, but after all, I was dealing with such difficult circumstances.”  Instead of growing and getting better and stronger, we blow up as usual and then apologize yet again.  If we were really improving, the apologies would become less frequent, and one day, perhaps, unnecessary.  That’s what God expects of us.

            He doesn’t look down and say, “Well, I know they can handle this trial.”  Why should He bother sending it?  Instead, the test comes and after we pass He looks down, as He did on Mt Moriah and says, “Now I know.”

            And it’s those tests that give us the experience to help others and the strength to endure more.  God never promised us perfect lives here on this sin-cursed world.  He did not promise you fame and fortune (no matter what Joel Osteen says).  He did not promise perfect health, perfect families, or even perfect brethren.  What He did promise is a perfect reward after we successfully navigate what amounts to, in the perspective of Eternity, a moment or two of imperfection.

            But only if you have the mettle.
 
When they had preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples, they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch, strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God, Acts 14:21-22.
 
Dene Ward

Today's post is by guest writer Lucas Ward.

In Acts 5, the Apostles are brought before the Sanhedrin who are enraged that they have turned Jerusalem upside down by teaching Jesus and the resurrection. After some deliberation, the Sanhedrin had the Apostles beaten and then ordered them not to continue preaching Jesus. Given Jewish custom each Apostle was probably beaten 39 times with a cane. This was not a minor punishment to shake off easily. Then comes Acts 5:41 “They therefore departed from the presence of the council rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the Name.”

I have never understood that verse. I mean, the words are easy enough to understand. I know what the sentence means, but I have never been able to grasp how they could feel that way. “Rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer”? It doesn’t make sense! One of the outstanding things about the Bible is how human it is. The people described in it act like people would normally act in those circumstances. Even when the cultures differ, we can understand why people with those cultures would act the way the Bible says they act. Except this verse. In all the Bible, this is the verse that has always rung untrue for me: these are supermen, not real people! I’ve heard sermons and sat in Bible classes about this bit of scripture and the preachers/teachers try their best to explain, but my biggest impression of those sermons/classes has always been that they don’t really fathom the idea either. Really, how can anyone think that it is an honor to suffer? Keeping the faith through suffering, yes. But to be counted (or considered) worthy to suffer is an honor? I don’t get it.

Or didn’t until after I had completed teaching my class on Job. A few weeks after I had concluded that class I thought of Acts 5 and a lightbulb went off. You see, in the class we had discussed how God had carefully picked Job as the person to go through these trials. Notice that in Job 1 it is God who calls Satan’s attention to Job by holding Job up as an exemplar of what a righteous person should be. By allowing Satan to persecute Job, God was proving that the righteous will love Him because of who He is, not because of blessings being showered down. Job lived that. Instead of cursing God, as Satan predicted, Job glorified God and worshipped. Satan was proven wrong and is not heard from again in the book. God had carefully picked Job as the one who could undergo suffering and triumph in his faith. Oddly, it was a compliment from God that Job was allowed to suffer.

Think about your job. Doesn’t the boss have certain people he goes to when really tough tasks come up? They are the best workers he has available. He isn’t punishing those people with hard work, he just knows that they are best equipped to handle it. The hard task shows his confidence in those employees and is, essentially, a compliment. So it is when we are allowed to suffer for the Name of Jesus. God understands that we can handle those trials and come through for Him. (1 Cor. 10:13). It is an honor to be chosen to suffer for Him.

Let me tell you, if God were to replay the events of Job today, He wouldn’t pick me as the person He held up to Satan. When I said that, most/all of my class nodded in agreement that they would not be picked either. It takes true spiritual maturity and deep faith to accept all that Job handled in those first two chapters and to then say “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord”. In picking Job, God considered him worthy to suffer for Him. I’m not sure there is a higher compliment God gives. And this is why the Apostles rejoiced that they had been considered worthy. It reinforced for them God’s faith in them. And that would make anyone feel good.

If I never find myself suffering for Christ, maybe it is because He has no confidence in me. In that case, I need to step it up so that I may join in the Apostles’ rejoicing one day.
Lucas Ward

I suppose it is the time of year.  The mailbox has been spewing out six inch high piles of catalogues lately.  Usually they wind up in the trash, but I opened up one of the less familiar ones the other day.  The prices made it obvious this was for people of means, not folks like us, and so did the items themselves. 
           
            A Marshmallow Blaster—a pneumatic gun to shoot marshmallows up to 40 feet, $39.95.
           
            A Touchscreen Portable Video Poker Game--$99.95.
           
            A Balance Board Trainer—helps you improve your balance without having to go to a gym, $479.95.
           
            A Rotating Dual Disco Ball--$59.95.
           
            A Fish-Finding Watch--$139.95.
           
            A Laser-Guided Pool Cue--$79.95.
           
            An Authentic Scottish Practice Chanter—the first step for those who wish to learn to play the bagpipes--$49.95.
           
            Obviously, the people who would want these things are either so wealthy that they truly need nothing, or else bored to death—possibly both.
           
            That’s what happens when you count on this world to make you happy.  Solomon did exactly that and came to the conclusion that all things are full of weariness; man cannot utter it: the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. That which hath been is that which shall be; and that which hath been done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun, Eccl 1:8,9, despite what Hammacher Schlemmer comes up with.
           
            Boredom can get to us in every way when things are too easy.  We recently sent care packages to Zimbabwe that included powdered Concord grape juice. Evidently grapes are not a native crop over there, and with the drought, rampant inflation, and food shortages, they were having difficulty even fulfilling the obligation to observe the Lord’s Supper on Sunday mornings.  At one point, they were reduced to boiling raisins and using the decanted water. 
           
             And here some of my brethren sit arguing about whether or not to call it an “act of worship,” how big a piece of bread to break off, whether the bread should contain oil or shortening, whether it can be sweet, and other assorted nitpicky items.  Our destitute brethren could teach us a thing or two about how precious this observance should be, precious enough to even think of buying the grape juice instead of food, and certainly not a source of contention. 
           
             When things become so easy that our worship to God becomes tedium so that we argue about it to fill the time, remember how it got to be that way—because we are so blessed in the first place.  Maybe there is a reason that the last beatitude is Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’s sake.  Maybe our blessings would mean a whole lot more to us if they were harder to come by.
 
For from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same my name shall be great among the Gentiles; and in every place incense shall be offered unto my name, and a pure offering: for my name shall be great among the Gentiles, says Jehovah of hosts. But you profane it, in that ye say, The table of Jehovah is polluted, and the fruit thereof, even its food, is contemptible. You say also, Behold, what a weariness is it! and you have snuffed at it, says Jehovah of hosts; and ye have brought that which was taken by violence, and the lame, and the sick; thus you bring the offering: should I accept this at your hand? says Jehovah, Mal 1:11-13.
 
Dene Ward

When we camp in the fall, we must make our reservations several weeks in advance.  With my precarious eye condition, we never know when we might need to cancel, but it’s our philosophy that you hope and pray for the best, then deal with life as it happens.
 
           Then there is the weather.  There are no 2-3 month forecasts, at least none you can count on.  Only once in 28 years have we hit a solid week of rain, but that was also the week we passed around a stomach virus—first Nathan, then Keith, then me, and finally Lucas—so the rain was the least of our problems.

            In the other years, though, we have noticed this:  it always rains on Tuesday.  No matter where we camp or what year, Tuesday is the day for rain.  Sometimes it’s one hour-long storm; sometimes it’s a day of passing showers; once in a while it happens at night while we sleep warm and dry in the tent.  Those are the best years.

            We have come to plan for it ahead of time.  Sometimes we go on a day of shopping in a nearby town, replenishing the ice supply and picking up anything circumstances create a need for, like duct tape, batteries, a new air mattress once when we woke up flat on the tent floor one morning.  Sometimes it’s browsing at a flea market, a used bookstore, or an antique shop.  Sometimes it’s a scenic drive through a national forest.  We know when we leave the house on Saturday that on Tuesday we will be doing one of these things.

            One year we really hit the jackpot.  Monday night at 11 pm, shortly after we were tucked into our sleeping bags for the night, the rain started and did not stop until 11 pm Tuesday night—24 hours straight of cold drizzle.  We were in an unfamiliar campground in an unfamiliar area.  The nearest town with decent shops was over 50 miles away.  There were no indoor tourist spots nearby either.  By breakfast Tuesday morning the “water resistant” screen-house over the table was saturated and had started dripping through.  We obviously couldn’t sit there all day.  So we gathered up books, Bibles, notebooks, a Boggle game with plenty of paper and pencils, a propane lamp and stove, and headed for the tent.  We spent the entire day in that 16 x 10 tent reading, studying, playing games, talking, drinking hot chocolate, napping, and then starting the list over again.  The day passed quickly for that kind of day, and the next we were back to sunny skies, hiking, and evening campfires.

            Wouldn’t it be foolish for us to expect to be able to choose one week three months in advance, and think we could live outdoors without a chance of rain?  Instead we go on, knowing it will happen, prepared for it, and determined to have a good time anyway.

            Peter told those first century Christians not to be so naïve as to expect to never suffer.  Paul told Timothy, Yea all that would live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution, 2 Tim 3:12.  We are promised all spiritual blessings, but health and wealth do not fall into that category.  We are promised “a hundredfold” brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and children, but often their greatest worth is in the encouragement they offer during the trials of life.  We are promised that God will never forsake us, but that matters far more in times of difficulty than in times of ease.  In fact, it is usually in those difficult times that we come to realize our greatest blessings.

            Only the shallowest of Christians expects God to make sure he leads a “charmed” life.  We are called to be disciples of a Lord who suffered.  A disciple follows in his Master’s footsteps.  Why would we ever think we should be immune to the same suffering?

            As long as you expect a week without rain, your life will be one of constant disappointment.  Hope and pray for the best, prepare for the trials and tribulations, then live a life of joy when it rains on Tuesday.
 
Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial among you, which comes upon you to prove you as though a strange thing happened to you; but insomuch as you are partakers of Christ’s sufferings, rejoice; that at the revelation of his glory also you may rejoice with exceeding joy, 1 Pet 4:12,13.
 
Dene Ward

I am different from most women, I guess.  I do not enjoy those cutesy-pie sayings that sound like they came straight out of a sugar canister.  For one thing, I think they can engender the opposite feeling they are intending to--guilt, mainly.  How many times have you heard that even if you don’t feel good, you should go to the assembly because it will make you feel better when you leave?  Yes, on occasion, it does just that, mainly because I was too busy having a pity party and the services put my mind on things besides me. 
But what about the person who is genuinely ill, or who is so old and feeble that he needs to rest after putting one sock on?  Do I really think that going to church and spreading germs to the elderly and small children is going to make me feel better, and even if it did, wasn’t that awfully selfish of me?  Or if pushing myself too hard could cause me to collapse during the services, what great good did that accomplish for anyone else?  Yet sometimes these people do push themselves—they are in fact the ones most likely to push themselves--so they come and infect everyone else, because they have been made to feel guilty for not doing so by things I have come to call duck-billed platitudes.
 
           I see another problem with some of these things—they smack a little of the health and wealth gospel.  “Sacrifice for the Lord isn’t sacrifice if you really love the Lord.”  Nonsense.  Try that one on a first century Christian who is about to have his throat chomped on and his belly ripped open by the lions in the Coliseum.  Sacrifice feels like sacrifice and God never promised anything else.  What He did promise was that sacrifice is worth it.  That doesn’t mean anything if you have annulled the pain of the sacrifice.

            The things we need to hear are the true things.  Yea, and all that would live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution...For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps, 2Tim 3:12; 1Pet 2:20-21.  What we need is to be told how to endure what will surely come if we live like Christ did, not how to avoid it or worse yet, how to make it “fun.”

            Sometimes life is just plain hard.  That was the punishment we got when we were thrown out of Eden.  Christians are not immune to that penalty, we are just forgiven for it.

            Be strong, God is always telling us in His Word.  Be courageous.  It isn’t courage to turn everything into one giant tea party.  That’s denial, and I see too many Christians living in that state.  And this is what it leads to when you finally realize you cannot platitude your way out of it—“Why did this happen to me?”  This is why:  We live in an imperfect world, made that way by sin, which, no matter how much we like to believe otherwise, we have participated in.  And it won’t get any better.  Tragedies are a part of life.  BUT---

            We live in hope of a better world, a better place that will be perfect and will never end.  That is what you need to remember, not a bunch of saccharine sayings on poster after poster after poster.  I have something much better, and so do you if you will take hold of it.  It does not tell us that everything will be wonderful in this life, that God will spare us from anything painful.  Instead it promises pain, but it also says this:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Rom 8:35-39.
 
Dene Ward

Keith noticed it first, a dove that sat quiet and almost still on the ground beneath one of the hanging bird feeders.  While other doves and a bevy of cardinals hopped around him pecking at the ground, then flying up and down from the feeder, he barely moved a foot in two hours, and always one small, hesitant hop at a time.  By early evening most of the other birds were gone, finished with their free supper and off to find a good roosting place for the night, but he still sat there.
           
            By then I was a little worried.  I grabbed the binoculars for a closer look.  He had puffed himself up twice his size as birds will do in the winter to keep warm.  But it was still early September and the humid evening air hovered in the upper 80s.  Suddenly his head popped up, stretching out his neck just a bit, and then immediately back into the folds of feathers around his shoulders.  As I continued to watch I noticed it every five minutes or so.  It almost looked like he had hiccups, but somehow I did not think that was the problem.  Something worse was happening.

            Near dusk he suddenly flew straight up to the feeder itself.  Instead of perching on the outer rung designed for a bird to curl its feet around and be able to lean forward to eat from the small trough that ran around the bottom of the feeder, he flew into the trough itself, hunched down, and leaned against the clear plastic walls of the feeder.  Then he became completely still—no more twitching or bouncing.  I watched until it was too dark to see any longer. 

            The next morning I went out with my pail of birdseed to refill all the feeders around the house.  There beneath the feeder lay the now much smaller body of the dove.  Sometime in the night he had died and fallen off the feeder.  We carefully disposed of the small body for the sake of the other birds and our Chloe just in case it had carried a contagious illness.  It was a sad moment.  I couldn’t help but think, “You weren’t alone, little guy.  We watched you and we cared.”

            We weren’t the only ones watching.  Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father, Matt 10:29.  God notices when every little bird falls to the ground.  And never forget the lesson Jesus draws from that:  But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows, Matt 10:30-31.

            Dying alone has become a metaphor for a purposeless existence. “We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone,” (Orson Welles).

            It’s used to depict life and death as a beginning and end that you cannot effect one way or the other.  “Don’t expect anyone to stick around.  You were born alone and you will die alone,” (Anonymous).

            It’s used as a desperate pitiful plea for someone to care:  “I just don’t want to die alone, that’s all.  That’s not too much to ask for, is it?  It would be nice to have someone care for me, for who I am, not about my wallet,” (Richard Pryor).

            It’s used to show the meaninglessness of life:  “At the end, we all die alone,” (Anonymous).

            Is it any wonder that skeptics and atheists commit suicide?  None of these things is true for a Christian. 

            For the LORD loves justice; he will not forsake his saints. They are preserved forever… Ps 37:28.

            Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you, Heb 13:5.

            Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go, Josh 1:9.

            Sometimes we can quote passages like these until we are blue in the face, but when the hour of trial comes, any sort of trial, and no one stands with us, we allow the physical eye to fool us into believing we are alone.  We need to learn to see with spiritual eyes like our Lord did:  Behold, the hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me, John 16:32.  We are the only ones who can take that promise away—when we don’t believe it.  With God a believer is never alone no matter how much vacant space surrounds him.

            If God promised to watch for every fallen bird, He will watch for me.  Even if some day I breathe my last breath in an otherwise empty room, I can know that Someone cares enough to be nearby, watching and waiting to take me home.
 
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints, Ps 116:15.
And I will gather you to your fathers…2 Chron 34:28.
 
Dene Ward