For the chastisement of the daughter of my people has been greater than the punishment of Sodom, which was overthrown in a moment, and no hands were wrung for her. (Lam 4:6)
            The fourth Lament may be the hardest one to read.  Many of the ladies in our study shuddered involuntarily as the verses piled horror upon horror in their ears and minds.  Even the pagans were astounded at the wrath of God.  The kings of the earth did not believe, nor any of the inhabitants of the world, that foe or enemy could enter the gates of Jerusalem. (Lam 4:12)
            Then we turned back to the original covenant.  Read Deut 28:28-57 today for your daily reading, and then find the fulfillment of all these things in the fourth Lament, as well as scattered in the prophets.  But here especially, verse after verse, reminds the people exactly why they are experiencing these horrible things. 
            "But we are the chosen people," they said again and again as they ignored prophet after prophet. …He will do nothing; no disaster will come upon us, nor shall we see sword or famine (Jer 5:12). "God won't destroy us," which in their minds meant "God can't destroy us because of all His promises."  They forgot one thing.  Precisely because of the covenant, when they broke their end of it, God was forced to keep His end to remain righteous, and His part was administering justice.  He could not remain holy and faithful and not punish them. 
            And so what is the lesson for us?  We have a new covenant with God.  He has told us several times what will happen with those who have "trodden underfoot" the blood of his Son, the blood of that new covenant.  The religious world wants to assuage your fears with the same sort of talk as the false prophets of old, crying, "Peace, peace, when there is no peace" (Jer 6:14).  A loving God would never punish or destroy; He would never send anyone to hell, they say in all their theological sophistication.
            The writer of the fourth Lament would beg to differ.  God did it once.  He will most certainly do it again.
 
See that you do not refuse him who is speaking. For if they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, much less will we escape if we reject him who warns from heaven. At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.” This phrase, “Yet once more,” indicates the removal of things that are shaken—that is, things that have been made—in order that the things that cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire. (Heb 12:25-29)

Dene Ward

The third Lament begins exactly like the first two—long lists of the terrible things God's people had to endure.  But there is a difference here too.  While the first two are written in third person or as Jerusalem herself, this one is personal and individual:  I am the man who has seen affliction under the rod of his wrath; (Lam 3:1).  He goes on to describe his afflictions in detail, but suddenly, in the middle of all this despair, for the first time, he interjects some hope.
            Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ​“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” (Lam 3:19-24)
            If you have read the entire lament, the first thing you will think is, "Wait a minute!  The writer just said in verse 18 that his hope has perished."  Evidently, according to Evan and Marie Blackmore in Let Us Search Our Ways, this is a type of construction common to Hebrew poetry where a thought is put out for consideration and then discussed.  Eventually the writer dismisses the notion of a lost hope.  And why?  Because of "the steadfast love of the Lord." 
            "Steadfast love," or "lovingkindness" in other versions, is covenant language.  After a while you begin to recognize certain words and phrases that automatically point to the covenant God made with His people.  Despite the people's failure to keep that covenant, God continues to keep his promises to Abraham and David.  He continues to love these feckless, unfaithful children of His because He is righteous, not because they are.
            The ASV on 3:22 makes this most apparent.  It is of Jehovah's lovingkindnesses [steadfast love] that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. (Lam 3:22)
            Even looking at all the horrible things that have happened to the people, the writer says that without God's love, things would be even worse.  The fact that God's care for them can be seen at all—they are still alive!--gives them hope. 
            Later on the writer lists three reasons to hope:
            1) For the Lord will not cast off forever, (v 31).  Even this well-deserved punishment will come to an end. 
            2) But, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love. (Lam 3:32)  After the punishment God will show pity and compassion on His people.  He will once again bless them.
            3) ​For he does not afflict from his heart or grieve the children of men. (Lam 3:33). God did not send this punishment because it pleased him, but to bring about repentance and to repair the broken relationship.
            And so in the midst of our trials today, we can still have hope.   Remember that it will eventually end.  "This too shall pass," we often say, and it will.  Not only that, but God will have pity on us.   His blessings will not cease.  We may just have to look a little harder for them for a while.  And God never sends trials out of spite.  Even if our trials are not for punishment as theirs were, God always has some goal in mind—strength, clarity, wisdom—something that He expects us to glean from our troubles.  They are never pointless.
            And God's compassion never fails.  No matter how bad things are, His goodness is visible in something close by.  Thorns may pierce, but the roses still bloom.  Bees may sting, but they still make honey.  God has not promised that we will never travel through dark valleys, but He has promised to go through them with us.  Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me" Psalm 23:4.
            Add to all that this one constant:  grace.  The worst day we ever have is better than we deserve.  If you cannot see the hope in your trials, you will ultimately fail them. 
 
The LORD is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. ​It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD. ​It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. (Lam 3:25-27)
 
Dene Ward        

Question 4 on our lesson sheet for the second lament was "What is the focus of this lament?" 
             Almost in unison came the answer:  "The anger of God." 
            You couldn't miss it.  The poet uses three Hebrew nouns 7 times along with two verbal expressions for anger.  Then you have the list of things God did in His anger—and there was no quibbling about it:  God did them, not the Babylonians.  He "laid waste his booth," " laid in ruins his meetingplace," "spurned king and priest," "made Zion forget Sabbath," "scorned his altar," and "disowned his sanctuary."  He destroyed the very worship he had set up for his people and the people seemed to have no trouble recognizing that God had every right to do it.  They broke the Covenant.  It was all their fault.
            Today we all want to focus on the God of love.  I know it when I hear things like, "God wants me to be happy.  He would never be angry about such a little thing.  He would never _______________."
            First of all, what God wants is for us to be holy so we can spend an Eternity with him.  We cannot if we are anything less than pure because we couldn't—wouldn't—give up the pleasures of even the smallest of sins, and that means that sometime we won't be very "happy."  "Sin separates you from God."  If, after all the blessings I have received from Him and after the huge sacrifice He made for me, I am so unspiritual that I cannot make a relatively insignificant sacrifice for Him in order to make myself acceptable, I deserve His anger and whatever punishment goes along with it.  Yes, He will too ____________, and even these stubborn, selfish, prideful, ungrateful, unmerciful, and unfaithful people of His eventually figured it out. 
            For us to picture God as a one-dimensional Being who only forgives and loves is nothing short of arrogant.  God as our Creator has every right to be angry with the created ones who break His laws.  When unbelievers blast God for that anger—"How could a just God allow these things to happen?"--don't think you have to apologize for Him.  He doesn't need us to explain it away in order to make Him more palatable to a shallow, ungodly, and disobedient world now any more than He did then.
 
The Lord has swallowed up without mercy all the habitations of Jacob; in his wrath he has broken down the strongholds of the daughter of Judah; he has brought down to the ground in dishonor the kingdom and its rulers. He has cut down in fierce anger all the might of Israel; he has withdrawn from them his right hand in the face of the enemy; he has burned like a flaming fire in Jacob, consuming all around. He has bent his bow like an enemy, with his right hand set like a foe; and he has killed all who were delightful in our eyes in the tent of the daughter of Zion; he has poured out his fury like fire. The Lord has become like an enemy; he has swallowed up Israel; he has swallowed up all its palaces; he has laid in ruins its strongholds, and he has multiplied in the daughter of Judah mourning and lamentation. (Lam 2:2-5)
              
Dene Ward

As we said last time, the first lament is one of overwhelming sadness.  In a mere 22 verses, the writer uses tears, weep, cry, and mourn a total of five times; distress, affliction and misery a total of seven times; sigh and groan a total of four times, and no comfort and desolate a total of seven times.  That is more words describing grief than there are verses in the lament.
            The speaker is Jerusalem herself.  She is no longer a "princess" but a "widow."   She whose streets were once full of people, is now lonely.  Her friends have become her enemies.  Even her roads mourn because they are no longer traversed by happy families traveling to celebrate the Jewish festivals. 
            In verses 8 and 9 she recognizes her sin, but at this point seems more embarrassed at the disgrace than anything else.  The pagans have seen her nakedness so she "groans and turns her face away."  "The Lord is in the right," she says. "I have been very rebellious, BUT…"
            Look at poor little me.  God has been so hard on me.  Everyone is laughing at me.  No one will comfort me.  See my suffering.  Yes, she is suffering badly, far worse than any of us ever have, but something is missing, even in her confession of sin.  She has more to learn about the purpose of punishment and the correct way to view it. 
            However, the grief itself is not wrong.  God has made that plain throughout his Word.  Even righteous men are shown to grieve, Abraham, David, Hezekiah, and Paul among them.  Even Jesus cried.  Paul told the Roman brethren to "Weep with those who weep," not look down on them and rebuke them for crying.  The promise we have ultimately is that God will wipe away all the tears from our eyes—then, not now.
            But our grief is to be different.  "We sorrow not AS those who have no hope" (1 Thes 4:13), not "We sorrow not."  And if on occasion, our grief is caused by our own sin, as with these people, we have an even larger obligation in our grief.  Godly sorrow works repentance (2 Cor 7:10).  These people are still working on that.  Eventually they will get there, but not quite yet.
            God made us to grieve.  It is human nature to miss a loved one, to be frightened by a bad diagnosis, to be overwhelmed by a loss of physical things, and especially by a spiritual loss.  It is even correct to grieve in such a dramatic and lengthy way as these people did.  As sinful as they were, when you read these laments and see what they went through, you still feel compassion and pity for them.
            But as with everything God made, He made grief to serve a purpose.  It can bring repentance, it can bring strength, it can bring clarity, and help us learn priorities.  Use it, not as self-pity, but the way He intended. 
 
Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like streams in the Negeb! ​Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him. (Ps 126:4-6)

Dene Ward        

My Tuesday morning class just finished a study of Lamentations, the first study of that book I have ever done.  Which means, of course, that I learned a lot of new things, and despite this being some of the saddest material in the Bible coming as it does immediately after the fall of Jerusalem, I have fallen in love with these little gems.
            That is the first thing I learned.  Lamentations is not one book that we have divided into five chapters.  It is five separate psalms of lament.  Once we figured that out we decided to study each one separately rather than go seamlessly from one to the other and perhaps have to stop in the middle of one if class time ran out and lose the train of thought.
            Another thing we learned:  each lament is an acrostic poem.  The patterns are not always the same, but the use of the Hebrew alphabet is prominent in them all.  In numbers one and two, each stanza has three lines and the first word of each stanza begins with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet, all 22 in order, making 22 verses in our English Bibles.  Number three is a bit more complex.  Each stanza has three lines and each line within the stanza begins with the same letter that is next in the Hebrew alphabet, making a total of 66 verses in our English Bibles.  Number four follows the pattern of numbers one and two except each stanza has only two lines instead of three.  Then you reach number five, which is not an acrostic in the strictest sense, but which still has 22 stanzas in a nod to the Hebrew alphabet.
English poets are prone to look down their noses at acrostic poems as contrived and uncreative.  They served a real purpose in their time.  Those people did not have Bibles lying on their coffee tables.  They were used to listening and memorizing.  Knowing what letter the next stanza began with was a useful tool in that memorization. 
            Acrostics also had literary symbolism.  Using every letter of the alphabet meant a full expression of the emotion under discussion, in this case, grief.  After all this expressiveness, from A to Z we might say, nothing remains to be said.  And a study of these five poems will show you that is so.
            Number one is a poem of overwhelming sadness.  After we went through the verses and the figures of speech, the repeated words and synonyms and the nuances of expression, I read the poem aloud to the class.  They began reading along with me, but one young woman suddenly sat back, closed her eyes a second, then opened them and listened even more intently.  This poem will cut you to the heart.  You will want to weep out loud with this conquered people.
            Number two will shake you to the core.  Anger, fury, indignation, and other synonyms for the wrath of God appear several times both as nouns and verbals.  Enemy, foe, swallowed up, without pity, without mercy leave no question that what has happened is the doing of an angry God.
            Number three dwells on punishment, the reason for all this devastation and ruin, but suddenly turns close to the middle to remind the people that God is faithful.  A good God still punishes sin.  He would not be good if He did not.
            Number four brings home the consequences of breaking the Covenant.  Drawing heavily from Deuteronomy 28, the writer shows them item by item that God had warned them that this would happen, that making a covenant with the Creator involves the personal and corporate responsibility that the people had sworn to so many centuries before.
            Number five rounds out the collection.  Finally a humbled people feels remorse and repents.  They beg God for restoration and renewal, and the writer leaves it with a Hebrew idiom that seems to indicate that God's response will be positive.  After so much pain and terror, there is finally real hope.
            Do you see how the writer covers all the bases with these psalms?  Not only in the acrostics within the poems, but also by changing his focus from one psalm to the other, he has shown every possible emotion the people were feeling after the Babylonians destroyed their nation. 
And that means we can use these words in our own struggles too.  We will all have trials in our lives, but most of us will never experience what these people did.  Surely if their grief can find expression and relief in these words, ours can too. 
 
All her people groan as they search for bread; they trade their treasures for food to revive their strength. “Look, O LORD, and see, for I am despised.” “Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow, which was brought upon me, which the LORD inflicted on the day of his fierce anger. (Lam 1:11-12)      
 
Dene Ward

Keith called me outside one Saturday.  I was in the middle of something important and was a little irritated. It is hard enough to do things these days when I have to lean so close, squint so hard, and put up with the resulting headaches trying to see what I am doing.  Then he wants to interrupt me, and I will just have to start all over again.  But I sighed, a louder one than was called for, and dutifully went outside.
            The afternoon sun was waning, for which I was grateful.  No matter how dim the day I have to reach for sunglasses nearly all the time now.  He took me to a shaded spot on the west side of the field and pointed.  Then I saw it, or them as it turned out, probably a hundred dragonflies darting here and there all over the place. 
            He felt bad for me because I could not see them all the time.  In fact, I would not have known what they were had he not told me, but I think my vision of them was the best.  He saw them in the shade as well, when they once again became ugly black bugs, but I only saw them as they came out of the shadows, the sun striking their wings and lighting them up like tiny golden light bulbs.  Then they would disappear, but more would appear in their place, over and over, darting here and there in movements no one could possibly predict.  I think my view was much more magical than his, and therefore far more delightful.  We stood there watching them for several minutes.  I probably could have stood their longer since I had the better view, a view he would never have because he could see so well.
            No matter what we may be going through in this life, God always prepares good things for us, but we will never see them if we always stay inside ourselves, commiserating with ourselves, rewinding over and over the tape of all our troubles till we can recite them from memory to anyone who asks, and even some who don’t.  There is a silver lining somewhere if we just search, and in the searching who knows what treasures we might find? Besides, it will keep us too busy to complain so much.
            Go out there today and look for those silver linings—or the golden dragonflies, or whatever God has specially prepared to help you through this day.  You will find them, but only if you have a mind to.
 
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.  Psalm 23:5,6.
 
Dene Ward

I found a verse the other day that intrigued me--for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit, Rom 14:17.  While the meaning is obvious—in the context of eating meats sacrificed to idols, Paul is telling them that being in the kingdom is a matter of the inner man not the outer man—I still wondered why those three things were chosen among the many traits describing Christians.
            Before much longer I found Romans 5:1-3.  Those three things are not three separate items, as if they can be chosen one without the other, they are a chain reaction.  I am justified (made righteous), and as a result have peace with God, and that creates joy in my life. 
            Keep reading down to verse 5 in Romans 5, then add 12:12 and 15:13 to the mix and you see that joy is inextricably bound with hope.  The Greeks did not use “hope” the way we use it, a wish for something that could go either way, but as a confident assurance or, as Keith likes to say, “a vision of a certain future.”  Along with the apostle John in 1 John 5:13, I should be able to say, “I know I am saved; I know I have been forgiven; I know I have a relationship with God; I know I am going to Heaven.”  Is there anything that should inspire any greater joy?
            Being joyful does not mean we may not face sad times; it does not mean we must not ever grieve in a trial.  What it does mean is that we will bounce back from those times because joy is the foundation for our lives.  If, instead, I come through a trial with an attitude only toward myself, what I have endured, and what I believe others should be doing for me because of it, my joy has turned into bitterness.  In fact, I have not successfully endured that trial at all. Whenever I allow something to smother my joy, in at least that much I have allowed that thing to be more important to me than my relationship with God. 
            This is easier said than done.  I used to wonder how to have this joy that everyone kept telling me I was supposed to have.  God does not leave us without direction.  Col 1:9-14 gives us several techniques for having joy.  Be filled with the knowledge of Him; walk worthily of the Lord; bear fruit in every good work; give thanks for our salvation.  Do you know what that boils down to?  Focus on the good things and stay busy serving others. 
            Joy is like a glow-in-the-dark toy.  The more I focus on what God has done for me and what he expects me to do for others, the longer I sit in the light and the stronger my glow will be.  But if I sit too long in the shadow of sadness and grief, focusing too long on myself, my joy will begin to fade until eventually it is gone altogether.    
            If you find yourself alone in the dark today, it’s time to come back into the light before your joy disappears, along with the hope that reinforces it.  This is a choice you make, one that has nothing to do with what happens today or what anyone does to you, but with the path you choose to take regardless.              
 
That the proof of your faith, 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:  whom not having seen you love; on whom, though now you see him not, yet believing, you rejoice greatly with joy unspeakable and full of glory:  receiving the end of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 1 Peter 1:7-9.
 
Dene Ward
 

What has happened to create this doubt [doubt from hidden conflicts] is that a problem (such as a deep conflict or bad experience) has been allowed to usurp God’s place and become the controlling principle of life. Instead of viewing the problem from the vantage point of faith, the doubter views faith from the vantage point of the problem. … The world of faith is upside down, and in the topsy-turvy reality of doubt, a problem has become god and God has become a problem." (Guinness, "God in the Dark," 151–152) 
            "'I am the LORD your God. … You shall have no other gods to set against me' is not only a principle of correct theology but of sound psychology. Whatever assumes in our lives a practical importance that is greater than God will become god to us. And since we become what we worship, to let an unanswerable problem become god to us is the surest way to guarantee that life will be characterized at its heart by defeat." (Ibid., 152, ellipsis in original)

Os Guinness, God in the Dark

A long time ago, when Keith preached for a small country church, he and I used to do our visiting on bicycles.  With two toddlers aged 3 and 1, we each had a child seat over the back wheel of our bikes and off the four of us would go for an afternoon or early evening of making the rounds to our elderly or ill brothers and sisters, or to make new contacts in the rural community whenever someone moved in. 

We rode sometimes as far as five or six miles one way.  We learned the roads far better than we would have by car.  The traffic on the highways was scarce so we could easily avoid the potholes.  We learned to use the center of the dirt roads.  You simply couldn't plow your way through the thick white sand on the corners and edges.  We also learned why lime rock roads are often called washboards.  Talk about vibrations—our teeth were still chattering a half mile after we turned off of one.

We found another good reason to avoid the edges of the roads—snakes!  More than once one of them jerked back from the road and slithered further into the grass it had been just about to leave.  Whenever we passed a flattened rattlesnake or moccasin in the road, we gave a little cheer.

And we also learned about wind.  I was reminded of it the other day when Lucas called and told me his experience with his bike and the wind.  It goes like this.  You are having the greatest ride of your life.  You feel great.  Your legs seem to fly on the pedals.  You can up the gears with impunity and virtually zip down the road.  Then you turn around to head back home.

Suddenly you understand why the ride out was so easy.  You are headed into a wind that had formerly been at your back.  You pedal harder in lower gears.  Your calves and thighs burn.  You begin to huff and puff.  Sometimes you wonder if you are making any progress at all.  And it takes you half again longer to get back home than the ride out.

When I see someone trying to navigate the trials of life without God that's what I think of—pedaling against the wind.  I cannot imagine facing problems without God.  What's the use of it all?  You can't count on help from anyone because, like you, they are all in it for themselves.  You don't believe that anything good will come from it.  You are pedaling into a headwind so strong you will be lucky to even stay in the same place instead of being blown backwards.  Who will listen to your cries?  Who will hold you up when things get even worse?  And why did it happen to you anyway?  Nothing makes sense.  And sooner or later, even if you get through this one, another problem will rear its ugly head and there you go again.

But with God on your side things are different--the wind is at your back.  It may still be a rough ride.  Life can deal you some bad moments.  The French have a phrase:  c'est la vie.  Such is life.  You can't get through it unscathed.  But with God behind you, you know you have help.  You have someone to lean on, to talk to, and to count on.  Because you have His Word in your heart you can make better decisions.  Because you pray you can feel calmer and more content.  Knowing that He will send help through your brothers and sisters, through Providence, through his Holy Spirit, and because you believe He will answer your prayers, you can face the impossible and come through it far better than you might have otherwise.  You know there is a reason—be it learning or growing stronger or refining your soul, you know you will be better on the other side of this affliction.

Are you riding with the wind, or against it?  If you don't have that relationship with God, if you don't know Him through his revelation to us, and if you never bother to talk with him unless you want something, maybe you are headed in the wrong direction.  Just because you sit on a pew, you aren't necessarily on the right road.  It's easy to get bogged down in the sand corners.  Just because you were once baptized into the Lord's body, you aren't necessarily a part of it now.  There is a snake out there just waiting to strike at your ankles.  You need to turn that bike around.  He wants to help you, but He can't as long as you keep riding against the Wind.
 
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. 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 40:28-31)
 
Dene Ward
 

On May 17, 1954 the Supreme Court ruled in the case of Brown vs. Board of Education that “the doctrine of separate but equal has no place in public education.”  Do you know who “Brown” was?  She was Linda Brown, a black third-grader who had to walk a mile to the all-black elementary school, right through a railroad switching yard, instead of a much shorter seven blocks to an all-white school where she was not allowed.
            Although that decision was a giant step in desegregating American schools, it did not change things immediately.  It was over 11 years later when I had my first black classmate, a seventh grader named Diana White.  She was well-spoken, well-dressed, friendly, smart, and pretty, and I liked her instantly.  At that point, nothing about the Supreme Court ruling had affected me personally at all.  I still walked across the street to school every morning.
            The next year we moved from that small town where grades seven through twelve were all housed in a small school labeled “high school” to the biggest city I had ever lived in, a melting pot of cultures and beliefs that made me feel like I had moved to another country altogether.  Schoolyard fights were common and the bathrooms billowed with cigarette and marijuana smoke. 
            I hated those first two years of what they called junior high, more than twice the number of students I had been with the year before in one-third the number of grades—8th and 9th.  I had discovered that the school year consisted of 120 days and that first year I kept a small notebook in my desk in which every afternoon I marked off a day, from day one to day 120, four vertical lines and a crossbar every week.
            That was also my first experience with busing, which was how that city handled the new laws, and it was not a kind experience.  Instead of riding safely with a parent to the school near my house, I was hauled off five miles in the opposite direction. 
            Most of the upholstery on that old bus was dried out and cracked from the Florida heat, some of the foam padding spilling out, or torn out by bored students, the walls and seatbacks scratched with rusting graffiti, the floors scuffed and covered with gum wads and other sticky things I really didn’t want to contemplate.  The windows stuck either up or down, depending upon who sat there last and how strong he was.  I suppose the engine was in reasonable shape.  It certainly spewed out enough fumes, which then wafted back around the bus and in through the windows.  But that acted as a sort of buffer for the odors of adolescent sweat and far too much Brut and Tabu.
            The first morning I stepped on that bus was like something out of a nightmare.  Even though the county had tacked up a list of rules for all to see, rules that included, “No more than two people per seat,” and, “No standing on the bus,” most of the seats were crammed with three people and the unlucky few who had no friends to save them a seat, stood in the middle.  (It was deemed better to break bus safety rules than to break the federal law that required the busing in the first place.)  I was near the end of the pickup route and I knew no one else on board, so I stood.
            What a ride that was.  I always carried several thick textbooks stacked on the slanted top of a loose-leaf notebook—no backpacks back then.  It was either hold onto the books or hold myself up as we swung around corners and bounced over railroad tracks.  Somehow I managed to grab the metal back of a seat with my right hand while using my left arm to hold my notebook and books tightly up against me so they wouldn’t slide into the floor on the nearly thirty minute ride across town, made so much longer by the frequent stops for railroad crossings and the multitude of traffic lights and school zones we passed through. 
            Before a week was out, though, I had made a friend, another quiet girl as much a fish out of water as I.  She got on the bus three stops before me, when there were still seats available, and she started saving one for me.  That one little thing made the days bearable—I had a place, I belonged.  It meant so much that on the mornings she was absent and I discovered it when I climbed aboard that reeking bus, I nearly cried.
            God understands our longing for a place.  He knows we want to belong, we want to matter to someone.  Into a world where the best you could hope for from capricious, petty, spiteful pagan gods was to go unnoticed, the apostles came preaching about a God who actually cared.  Jesus came preaching about a God who knew you so intimately that he could number the hairs on your head, and who willingly provided you the necessities of life.  The disciples spread the word about a God who sacrificed himself to save, who helped bear burdens, and who offered rest and refreshing from a world sometimes too difficult to bear alone.
            God is saving you a seat on the bus.  Sometimes the bus hits a bump in the road, just as it did for Job.  Sometimes the driver takes a detour you never planned on, just as happened with Joseph.  Sometimes the route is long and the day hot and stifling as you sit among people who reek of the stench of this world, just as has happened to so many who have taken the ride before you.  But you are not alone.  The Lord got on that bus before you.  He will always be there saving you a seat, and after you count off that last day of “school,” he will give you a place where you can “belong” forever.
           
I am sending you to open their eyes, so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me. Acts 26:18
 
Dene Ward