Something tells me (maybe it’s 28 years of experience in the married state) that there are good ways, and then there are not so good ways, to tell a woman she is wrong! Maybe one of the not-so-good ways is to bring up all the recorded and imagined sins of her gender for the past 4 or 6 thousand years, from the far east to the middle east, to Lizzie Borden with her ax, as if to say, ‘And you… why, you are just like all the others!’ Maybe another not-so-good way is to suggest that her gender and her gender alone is responsible for all the evils in the world today… ‘You know, we men would have had such a perfect world if it weren’t for all the subtle flatteries, the sly whispers, and the wanton ways of the treacherous sex!’

Maybe a better way is first to remember that a woman is a human being, a person with feelings, who should be treated with respect, even if (stress the “if”!) she is wrong. Paul told Timothy, “Do not rebuke an older man harshly, but exhort him as if he were your father. Treat younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity” (1Ti 5:1,2). I take it that Paul is saying here, ‘Do not rebuke an older woman harshly, but exhort her as if she were your mother.”

So maybe one rule of thumb, when preparing to tell a woman she is wrong, is to ask: ‘How would I tell my mother she is wrong?’ Anyway, all this is a little like: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” And that’s an easy rule to remember — even if it’s sometimes hard to put into practice.

Now the question comes to mind: Did Jesus ever have to tell a woman she was wrong? Yes, in John 4 he meets a Samaritan woman by a well. And his task is to tell her she is a serial adulteress whose worship of God is all wrong. Surely a wonderful opportunity to pull out all the guns and really blast her!

But what does Jesus do? First, he speaks to her and asks a favor of her: “Will you give me a drink?” He shows her that he, like she, is a human being with needs, and suggests — subtly perhaps — that each of them can help the other. Secondly, the very fact that he speaks to her in a civil fashion fills her with amazement, because he is plainly a Jew and she is a Samaritan, never mind a woman. So he has treated her, already, with more kindness than most Jews would even think of; he has treated her as — surprise! — another human being of equal worth with himself. And he hasn’t even begun to rebuke her yet.

And so their conversation goes on. He slowly draws her out with spiritual analogies that intrigue her, and then finally he mentions her husband. This elicits her response, “I have no husband.” Now Jesus has the opening he was looking for. Does he pounce triumphantly? — ‘Aha, got you now!’ I don’t think so. He must have spoken his rebuke so gently, and after such a careful buildup, that the Samaritan woman, her sin finally exposed, is still not afraid of this strange man. Leaving her water jar, the woman goes back to the town to find all her friends. “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could he be the Messiah?”

And so Jesus’ rebuke of this woman’s sinful ways is carried out so carefully, so gently, and so kindly, that the last we see she has invited him to stay in the town, where for two additional days he speaks to many others who come to believe!

I think that’s how to tell a woman she is wrong. Now… if I could just remember that myself.

And maybe, when I’m wrong (IF that time ever comes!), she can remember to tell me in the same way.

“It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat” (Theodore Roosevelt).

“And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel” (Gen 3:15).

The enmity between the seed of the serpent and the seed of the woman is equivalent to the enmity between the mind of the flesh and the mind of the spirit:

“For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace. Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be” (Rom 8:6,7).

But Jesus brought an end to that enmity, in himself:

“For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh” (Rom 8:3).

God’s plan of salvation required that His only-begotten Son be subject to the same weak flesh, or “nature”, as all other men, but that nevertheless he would do what no other man had or could do, that is, overcome the mind of the flesh (or the mind of the serpent) by giving himself over completely to the mind of the Spirit of God. In doing this, Jesus “condemned” (ie, pronounced judgment against) the “sinful” principle of the flesh.

Put another way, Jesus — being, like us, a partaker of flesh and blood, nevertheless “destroyed him that had the power of death, that is the devil” — or the diabolos (Heb 2:14,15).

The same principle is demonstrated typically, prophetically, and pictorally, by the brazen serpent lifted up on the stake in the wilderness (Num 21), a figure which Jesus appropriated to himself:

“And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life” (John 3:14,15).

How could Jesus equate himself with a serpent? This is an extraordinary and improbable figure of speech, and only makes sense — I would suggest — if the “serpent” describes the flesh, or “nature”, with its susceptibility to a “carnal mind”, which Jesus possessed — a “nature” or disposition of mind which, by God’s grace, he overcame, condemned, and destroyed by his faithful obedience to the Spirit-will of his Father.

Whereas Job was plainly a righteous, indeed a “perfect” man (Job 1:1) — under extreme testing, physical and mental and spiritual, he came up short. But this should be no reflection on him; almost certainly, none of us would have fared nearly so well as did he.

And that seems, to me, to be one of the key features of the Book of Job. Even though Job is a type of Christ — and that is very plain to see — he can, of necessity, be nothing more than an imperfect type! The very best of men, tested in something like the way that Jesus would be tested, while comporting himself very well in the beginning, and enduring fairly well the continued trials (brought on by his “friends”!)… still came up short: drifting down into self-pity and anger and bitterness.

But, of course, it would ill become us to make any disparaging remarks about Job’s reactions to his extreme trials. What might our reactions have been, in similar circumstances? I almost hesitate to ask the question, for fear of… whatever!

The Book of Job is there in the Bible, I think, to remind us: here’s what the VERY BEST or men could do with something approaching the VERY WORST of trials. Job is both a comparison and a contrast, to Christ. And in his great trial, and his (relative) coming short, Job simply emphasizes to us the incredible nature of the character and trials and sufferings of our Lord. How humbling is that!

I am a sports fan, and baseball is my game, especially. It’s interesting, from a historical perspective, to note that in the history of baseball — with literally thousands of players participating on the highest level for well over 100 years — there have been maybe a dozen pitchers who could consistently throw a baseball over 100 miles per hour. Hundreds and hundreds of pitchers can hit, maybe, 95 miles per hour; and thousands could generate, say, 90 miles per hour. But only the very, very greatest could have occasionally thrown a baseball at 100 or 102 miles per hour — and they are legendary: Walter Johnson, Satchel Paige, Bob Feller, Nolan Ryan, Randy Johnson. (For perspective’s sake, very good amateur pitchers might hit 80 mph — and ordinary people, on the best days of their young lives, might throw a baseball at something like 60 mph.)

Anyway, with that in perspective, suppose there came along a pitcher would could consistently throw a baseball… let us, say, 150 miles per hour. Well, first of all, it would revolutionize the game of baseball — such a baseball would be, for all practical purposes — unhittable. The very rules of the game would have to be changed. (120 miles per hour would probably be unhittable, for that matter.)

In the realm of such pitching (which, admittedly, has limited value otherwise — but just for the sake of discussion), a Walter Johnson or a Bob Feller would be… Job. The extraordinarily talented or gifted man — one among thousands — whose feats are so far beyond other mortals as to make their comparison with him ludicrous.

But alongside such a “superman”, how would we characterize the man who could throw half again faster than he?

“By faith Abraham, even though he was past age– and Sarah herself was barren– was enabled to become a father because he considered him faithful who had made the promise” (Heb 11:11).

So the writer to the Hebrews clearly implies that Abraham was in fact “past age” to become a father (as does Rom 4:18,19).

“Abraham fell facedown; he laughed and said to himself, “Will a son be born to a man a hundred years old? Will Sarah bear a child at the age of ninety?” (Gen 17:17).

Is it possible that Abraham laughed, not the laughter of doubt, but of joy and hope based on faith (Joh 8:56; Rom 4:19)? And so the question may be one of amazed wonderment.

“Your father Abraham rejoiced at the thought of seeing my day; he saw it and was glad” (Joh 8:56).

“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” [Gen 15:5] Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead — since he was about a hundred years old — and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised” (Rom 4:18-21).

Yet “against all hope”, Abraham “did not waver through unbelief”. Sounds like he must have known that he, at the age of 99 or 100, could not have children… and this despite the evident fact that his father has fathered him at the age of 130.

My guess (and it can only be a guess) is that (1) Abraham had experienced some debilitating disease, and/or (2) (how to put this delicately?) he simply knew in his own personal experience what no observer could know… that, humanly speaking, he could no longer father children. Although Abraham was not nearly as old as his father Terah had been when he was born, still he knew that — as far as he was concerned — he was “past age”!

Yet he still believed God, against all the evidence of his own body! And the laughter (Heb “tsachaq”) of Abraham and then of Sarah — whether a joyful or a incredulous laughter, or something of both — found expression, when another year rolled around, in the naming of their infant son, “Yitzhaq”, Isaac, “Laughter”:

“Now the LORD was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the LORD did for Sarah what he had promised. Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him. Abraham gave the name Isaac [‘Isaac’ means ‘he laughs’] to the son Sarah bore him. When his son Isaac was eight days old, Abraham circumcised him, as God commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Sarah said, God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me” (Gen 21:1-6).

Now the birth of any child can inspire, in its parents, the profoundest and most subtle of “laughter”, the sheer joy of new life, the miracle and wonder of God’s ongoing creative process, in which even humans may be blessed to have a part. The joy of recognition, at some level, that God has not yet given up on the human race, since He is still allowing new “entrants”! The joy of looking at a future, and hoping for a future, of which the newborn may be a part.

I think something of all this was in the minds of the parents as they looked upon their son. And they named him “Laughter”. As Sarah put it, “Everyone who hears will laugh with me!”

Can we laugh with joy that the old couple could still, by God’s grace, have a special child of promise? “Is anything too hard for the LORD?” (Gen 18:14).

And can we laugh with joy that the young virgin could, by the power of the Highest, conceive and bear a son who would at the same time be Son of man and Son of God… and set the angels singing in the heavens? “For nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37).

The babe in the manger in Bethlehem… his name is “Laughter” too! We should all laugh together, in joy that God is still “creating”! In joy that He hasn’t yet given up on the human race! In joy that, through His Son, he is still looking for new “sons” and “daughters” to be “born anew” in Him! In joy that in times and places where no human power is sufficient, God is still working! And in joy that God’s future is — through His Son — bright with promise!

So, come on, everybody. Laugh!

The Bible refers to two very different sorts of people:

(1) those who love Christ’s appearing:

“Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing” (2Ti 4: 8)

… and

(2) those who love this present world:

“Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him” (1Jo 2:15).

It is a simple fact that every knowledgeable, responsible adult falls into one of these two categories. For each of us, it is an “either-or” situation: Either we love Christ and eagerly look for his Coming, or we love this present evil world.

It is true that one’s love for the world may be expressed in various ways: one may go in for the “high life”, or one may be generally sober-minded, hard-working, and a “good citizen”. And there are a myriad of other variations on the theme “lover of this world” — but they all come down to the same thing in the end. It really does not matter by which of the many available paths a man becomes lost in the “wilderness” — the only thing that does matter is that he has missed the one path that leads to the Kingdom of God.

But the most deceptive of the ways, or “paths”, by which man demonstrates his love for this world is… the pseudo-religious path. To walk in this way, a man may speak highly of Christ and his Coming. He may thus fool others (and he may even fool himself) into believing that he loves Christ’s appearing, when what he really loves is talking about it!

How can we tell if we fall into this special sub-category of “lovers of this world”? If we are indeed fooling ourselves, then the time to discover that unpleasant truth is now, while we can still confess our sin, and return to our first love.

The Bible can help us answer this question, by directing our attention to a similar class of people in earlier times. These were Jews who lived many years ago, even before the first coming of Jesus. Like many professing believers today, these Jews attached a great deal of importance to the coming of their Messiah. Their prophets had taught them to look forward to the Messiah’s coming, and this expectation had become a central feature of their religion.

Yet God instructed Amos to write:

“Woe unto you that desire the day of the LORD!”

— Why?…

“For what end is it [ie, will it be] for you? the day of the LORD is [ie, will be] darkness, and not light” (5:18).

And Malachi wrote:

“The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in: behold, he shall come, saith the LORD of hosts. But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth?” (Mal 3:1,2).

Unfolding events justified the stern warnings of the prophets. When God’s Son did appear in Israel, many Jews — including most of the really “religious” Jews — were still unprepared. The circumstances of the Lord’s coming were dramatically different from what they had expected. And the Messiah who appeared was radically different from the “Messiah” they had come to expect. And so they actually hated him and rejected him, bringing condemnation upon themselves.

Why were the people of Israel not prepared? What went wrong? Let Paul explain:

“For they that dwell at Jerusalem, and their rulers, because they knew him not, nor yet the voices of the prophets which are read every sabbath day, they have fulfilled them in condemning him” (Acts 13:27).

“They knew him not!” They did not recognize the One for whom they and their forefathers had been looking for hundreds of years. And this, despite the fact that they did read the Old Testament Scriptures about him “every sabbath day”.

They would have read Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53 time after time, but they gained nothing from their reading. Because their minds were filled with their own ideas about the coming Deliverer, they were not open to receive the truths revealed in those Bible passages. They could not receive the teaching that their Saviour would be despised and suffer — they read but they did not understand; and, ironically, they became the very people who despised him and caused him to suffer. And so they fulfilled these scriptures to their own confusion.

These “religious” Jews read their Bibles as a solemn duty, a ritual performed most regularly and carefully. Probably the mere physical exercise of reading the words made them feel good. But, sadly, it was all a deception and a snare. They did not read to gain instruction: they thought they knew all the answers already. And because they regarded themselves as a holy people, full of wisdom and knowledge, they were altogether unaware of how unreceptive they were. Those truths they did not like, the truths which would have prepared them to receive their Messiah when he appeared, were automatically rejected.

Do we know men like this? Is it just possible that we, today, are shutting our minds to unpleasant or difficult truths when we read our Bibles? We should face the possibility that our mental picture of the coming Christ, and our ideas about the events related to his appearing, may be shaped at least in part by human prejudice. And it is just possible that our prejudiced acceptance of certain traditions, and our prejudiced rejection of certain Bible teachings, may be as dangerous to our spiritual well-being as the similar prejudices of earlier generation in Israel were to theirs.

How can we know if this is true of us? The only proper answer is this: Those who truly love Christ’s appearing (as distinct from those who love to talk about it, and those who love to have others think they love it) will always read their Bibles with open minds, and will always be willing to be taught further from its pages, especially as regards its prophecies of the Messiah’s Coming!

How amazing that some of those who, in other settings, readily approve of the principle that the Bible must be the ultimate authority, seem to forget that this principle also applies to the Bible’s prophecies about the Last Days.

Past Bible students have sounded out similar warnings against a “comfortable”, “traditional” reading of the Bible:

“All writers and speakers must be unceremoniously tried by this [the Word of God]; for, God hath said, that ‘if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them’. It matters not who the sinner may be; pope, cardinal, archbishop, bishop, minister, or their admirers; or, even one of the saints of God, or an angel himself; nothing he may say, or write, must be received unless in strict conformity to this word; and of this the people must judge for themselves upon their own responsibility; and in the face of their eternal weal [well-being], or rejection from the Kingdom of God. To this Book [the Bible], then, we appeal for light — for information concerning the things which shall be hereafter” (John Thomas, Elpis Israel, 1847, p 170).

These words, written over 140 years ago, are powerful reminders of what must be the measure of our prophetic understanding and the direction of our lives: for Christ is coming soon!

Just a couple of thoughts on the general question:

(1) Even after his resurrection, Jesus said to his disciples: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority” (Acts 1:7). This statement echoes earlier ones he made, ie, Mat 24:36, to the same effect. The fact that even after his resurrection and glorification he was still uttering the same warnings should be a warning to us NOT to try to set dates… because (and the context of Acts 1 supports this, I think) there is the danger that too much concern for exact times may cause us to stop doing things we should be doing, ONLY to concentrate on observing the “signs of the times”.

So there is always THAT warning to all of us: “it is not for us to know”… the exact dates.

(2) “If the Lord had not cut short those days, no one would survive. But for the sake of the elect, whom he has chosen, he has shortened them” (Mar 13:20; cp Mat 24:22). I think Jesus is saying here that — for the sake of the believers — those last days, just prior to his return, may be “shortened”! So they may not be 3 1/2 years after all, even if some Scriptures seem to plainly say they will be! Once started, they may — by God’s grace — run their course much more quickly… and bring us right to the return of Christ even sooner!

Conclusion: If we can’t ever be absolutely sure when we have entered the final phase (which may be 3 1/2 years, or 7 years… we can’t be sure), and (2) if we can’t be absolutely sure that those times won’t be shortened by Christ anyway… for our own sakes…

Then… it follows: we can’t be absolutely sure about either the starting point, or (even if we knew the starting point, perhaps after it occurred), we couldn’t be absolutely sure about the ending point either.

This leaves us, I would suggest, right where we started:

• with a strong sense, based on world affairs (especially regarding Israel), that we are in the Last Days… and that Christ could come very soon, but
• with a healthy recognition that we can’t know exactly when it will all end, and
• anyway… there are things which we ought to be doing in the meantime:

“So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom the master has put in charge of the servants in his household to give them their food at the proper time? It will be good for that servant whose master finds him doing so when he returns” (Mat 24:44-46).

Having said the above, I will go further and offer my opinion on one thing:

The fact that we see Israel being pushed and shoved and threatened, even — it would seem — by the United States, to give up more land, and more security, to appease Palestinians and others… is, in my opinion, a VERY STRONG indicator that we are rapidly approaching the very last days.

What is the nation, or group of nations, that will threaten (and perhaps even overrun and defeat) Israel in the very last days? That always seems to be the “$64,000 question”. Russia? An Arab coalition? Led by Putin? Saddam Hussein? Yasser Arafat? The Pope? Not to forget Libya, Ethiopia, Persia (Iran)? Or… how about the whole of the United Nations, as we are seeing RIGHT NOW, supporting the cause of those peoples that will further divide and weaken Israel? (That last scenario may not leave out anyone: “all nations” may be gathered against Jerusalem, as Zec 14 and Joel 3 implies! And that may even include the United States.)

No matter what scenario we subscribe to, as regards the nation or nations that will threaten Israel in the last days, we know (as much as we can know almost anything about future fulfillments of Bible prophecy) that Israel will be left alone among the nations, until… finally… she realizes that her only help can come from Almighty God, and His Son.

So, anything that leaves Israel more isolated, and more vulnerable — while frightening in one sense — is, I would suggest, just what we should expect. And it is happening right before our eyes!

“When you see Jerusalem being surrounded by armies, you will know that its desolation is near… Jerusalem will be trampled on by the Gentiles until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled. There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. Men will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken…”

— Should we be afraid when we see such things? That is the natural tendency… but what does the Bible say? —

“At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (Luk 21:20-28).

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PS: I would add this little “editorial” comment to this sort of discussion: Let us hope, and pray, that we never have a ‘falling out’ amongst ourselves about different scenarios for the Last Days, but rather… humbly and prayerfully consider all possible viewpoints, treat one another (even if we disagree on details) with brotherly affection, and wait — as they say on election nights — for “the final results to come in”!

All the jockeying of the nations, around and about Israel, are like the vain poundings and crashing waves of the “seas”, casting up mire and dirt. And… they don’t really make any difference anyway. They will soon be silenced forever with the words, “Peace, be still!” The Prince of Peace will come, and whichever nations have done whatever to and about Israel will be like a dream that is gone with the morning: HE will “speak peace to the nations”, HE will “still the raging seas”, HE will bring in a “new world order” of peace and righteousness.

Where we stand on the “Russia” question will be forgotten… then.

Where we stand on the “Arab” question will be forgotten… then.

Where we stand on the “Judgment” question will be the only thing that matters.

Think about it.

There is something about human nature that refuses to understand its limitations. Because we are, we really do feel that we always will be… that we will never cease to be. “Where are we going?” is more than the naiveté of a little child. It is the unspoken but very frequent presumption of the adult too. “You will not surely die,” said the serpent to the woman (Gen 3:4), and she apparently believed him. But God says different:

“By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return” (Gen 3:19, NIV).

Many a tree, past which man rushes heedlessly on his way to nowhere important, has lived and will yet live longer than the man himself. Some giant sequoias, or California redwoods, have been confirmed to be more than 2,000 years old, while the average human life span is between 70 and 80 years. The Bible is rather blunt about us humans and our expectations. We are not like the trees at all, growing on majestically, year after year after year; we are much more like the grass — green and tender, then mature, then brown and dead, in one all-too-brief cycle:

“All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the LORD blows on them. Surely the people are grass” (Isa 40:6-8; cp 1Pe 1:24,25).

And the Bible can be even less flattering about human nature. It is compared elsewhere to the weeds of the field, fit only to be burned (Mat 13:25,30,40), to the lowliest thorns and thistles (Gen 3:17,18; Mat 15:13), or to the dry brush of the Judean desert:

“Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who depends on flesh for his strength and whose heart turns away from the LORD. He will be like a bush in the wastelands; he will not see prosperity when it comes. He will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives” (Jer 17:5,6).

There is, however, a hint of a more promising possibility in this last passage:

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream” (Jer 17:7,8).

How a person feels toward his Creator, whether or not he believes in Him, can make all the difference in the world — the difference, figuratively speaking, between a useless weed or a fragile blade of grass on the one hand, and a lovely, strong, and fruitful tree:

“I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God… for ever and ever” (Psa 52:8).

“The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon; planted in the house of the LORD, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green” (Psa 92:12-14).

WM Thomson, who traveled throughout the Middle East in the last century, writes this about the palm tree:

“The palm tree grows slowly, but steadily, from century to century, uninfluenced by those alternations of the seasons which affect other trees. It does not rejoice overmuch in winter’s copious rain, nor does it droop under the drought and the burning sun of summer. Neither heavy weights, nor the importunate urgency of the wind, can sway it aside from perfect uprightness. There it stands, looking calmly down upon the world below, and patiently yielding its large clusters of golden fruit from generation to generation. ‘They bring forth fruit in old age.’ The allusion to being planted in the house of the Lord is probably drawn from the custom of planting beautiful and long-lived trees in the courts of temples and palaces… This is still common; nearly every palace in the country has such trees in the courts, and, being well protected there, they flourish exceedingly. Solomon covered all the walls of the ‘Holy of Holies’ round about with palm trees. They were thus planted, as it were, within the very house of the Lord; and their presence there was not only ornamental, but appropriate and highly suggestive; the very best emblem, not only of patience in well-doing, but of the rewards of the righteous — a fat and flourishing old age — a peaceful end — a glorious immortality” (The Land and the Book, pp 49,50).

The tree of life is the first tree mentioned in the Bible (Gen 2:9), as it is the last tree mentioned (Rev 22:14). The fruit of this tree would have conferred the blessing of eternal life upon man — would have made him, in effect, a “tree of life” himself! But because of sin, man was cast out of the garden of the Lord. All of human history, in a sense, has been a quest, a search, for that lost garden of innocence and that lost tree of life.

Jesus is the “tree of life” — the one man who perfectly satisfied this description of Psalm 1:

“Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers” (Psa 1:1-3).

Jesus was, first of all, the “shoot” from “the stump of Jesse”, and the “Branch from his roots” that would bear fruit (Isa 11:1). The perfect and beautiful little tree grew out of the root of human nature, and flourished in the fertile soil of God’s word. Then the man who lived a perfect life died the perfect death — a death of obedient love and self-sacrifice. The cross on which he died, a literal “tree of death”, became — to those who believe upon God through His Son — a tree of life:

“Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: ‘Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree’ ” (Gal 3:13).

And so the fruit of that tree of death became life to those who partake of it, who identify themselves with the crucified and risen Savior. Jesus will be the tree of life in the midst of the Paradise of God, the restored and glorified earth, when he returns:

“Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city” (Rev 22:14).

And those who have truly believed in him will no longer be the fragile grass of the field, or the useless weeds or fruitless thistles — they will be, like him, glorious “trees” of immortality:

“The branch of my planting… they will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor” (Isa 60:21; 61:3).

“No longer will they build houses and others live in them, or plant and others eat. For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people; my chosen ones will long enjoy the works of their hands” (Isa 65:22).

When can we expect this wonderful transformation? It will begin to happen as soon as Christ returns to establish the Kingdom of God on the earth. May he come soon!

The Bible is the story of… man, being driven out of the beautiful garden, wandering throughout the earth, and seeking every means to return to that lovely place — until, finally, in Christ, he finds that lost Paradise again.

Or…

The Bible is the story of… a tree of life: man was shut off from that tree, but many years it reappeared, in man’s presence. It appeared first of all as a tree of “death”, a cross, but from the tree of “death” came a new “life”. And we are all invited to partake of this new “tree of life”… both now and forever, in the coming garden, or paradise, of God.

Or…

The Bible is the story of… wandering away from the Father’s house, and finally finding one’s way home again. (For this purpose, Christ’s parable of the “prodigal son” in Luke 15 may be the best… short… example.)

The writer — Thomas Wolfe, wasn’t it? — famously said, “You can’t go home again!” By which I think he meant (I didn’t major in English literature, by the way) something like… ‘We can never return to the idyllic time and place of our youth… that place doesn’t exist any more; time has swept us all along, and we can’t turn around and go back.’ A lament to lost youth, and the inexorable passage of time, or — as Ecclesiastes puts it — ” ‘Meaningless! Meaningless!’ says the Teacher. ‘Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.’ What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?” (Ecc 1:2,3). And that book has much more in the same vein. As if Ecclesiastes, though it is surely inspired, nevertheless gives us a Divine recounting of man’s sad story of life “under the sun” — that is, of life lived without God — and how, ultimately, it leads only to the grave. This, I would say, is not the main theme of the Bible — but it is, shall we say, UNREDEEMED MAN’s theme: the poignant counterpoint to the REAL story of the Bible, which is…

‘You CAN go “home” again! There is a beautiful garden, and a tree of life, and a loving Father waiting with outstretched arms — welcoming His children back into His embrace… no matter how far away, or how long, they have wandered from Him.’

Bread and wine. Method and type. Such questions.

My earliest memories were of the one cup, and of this one and that one being worried about the germs of another. Sometimes the germ-carrier would take his coughing and sneezing and move to the back of the room, and take the cup last… except for the presiding brother, who always had to be the final one. No relief for him. Too bad: goes with the “territory”, I suppose.

Other times the germ-carrier didn’t budge, and you hoped that the cup went down your side of the room first, and only to him or her later.

There was, in another place, the brother who always insisted on having the cup given to him last, germs and all, so that he could drain the cup. Was he a “wino”? No, he felt that Jesus’ command, “Drink ye all of it”, meant that not a drop should be left!

Sometimes the presiding brother seemed indifferent to personal hygiene — sneezing and blowing one’s nose, or worse — and then handling bread and wine. For a while, Barbara took to leaving “handi-wipes” at the podium, with instructions to the presiding brothers as to why they were there — thank you very much! A new item added to our presiding brothers’ program:

• Memorial hymn.
• Read Mat 26.
• Prayer for bread.
• Wash hands.
• Pass bread, etc.

In our new ecclesia, we moved rapidly from one cup to many small cups — one sister was especially insistent on this: her old ecclesia had always had many cups, and why not? So we changed, and reduced anxiety considerably. This also had the effect of allowing for certain cups (in the very middle) to be grape juice and not wine — since, over the years, a couple of people asked for this especially.

Barbara, being the efficient table preparer, worked out a scheme for rapid filling of many small cups: using a small squeeze bottle that had once held honey, and was now filled with wine. The squeeze bottle was in the form of a bear: I suppose because Winnie the Pooh so loved honey! My contribution to this: I named the bear: “Nehemiah, the wine-bear” (you gotta think about that one a bit!).

Wine or grape juice? Some years ago, we had an ecclesial “passover” meal — more or less like the Jews do; that was the point. Of course, everyone participated — adults and children alike. There was supposed to be four cups of wine (everyone with his or her own cup). Careful preparations were made: pitchers of wine, and pitchers of grape juice for the children. But someone wasn’t paying attention, and one little tyke got into the real wine, and polished off several cups. The mistake was discovered when he became especially boisterous in the singing of the traditional passover songs; Mom sniffed his cup and realized the problem; his parents took him home where he slept it off! No lingering effects, apparently: he is a brother today. But he still recalls his first passover meal!

In the new ecclesia, the sort of bread was left to the sister in charge of table preparation, and over the years I’ve seen a wide variety of types (types of bread, that is, not types of sisters!). A single slice of white bread, a single slice of white bread (no crust — why the crust should be cut off, I’m not sure), a whole loaf, a whole loaf with the crust removed (now that was a real operation), and Barb’s favorite — which was a small to middle-sized whole roll (just the right size for our group). Of course, some used the unleavened kosher wafers.

Should the bread be broken by the presiding brother? Or should it be broken by each individual partaker? The questions do go on and on, don’t they?

Almost certainly, in the upper room, the bread (unleavened) was broken by Jesus, and handed, personally, to each disciple. Much like (dare I say it?) the Catholic priest presents the communion wafer to the individual worshiper. We don’t do that. Why?

Which, I guess, brings up the question: Should our service be, as much as possible, like that in the upper room? The first answer might be, “Yes, of course, we ought to get back to the original!” But the follow-up question would be: “But how far back? When does form overwhelm substance? When does ‘the right way’ submerge ‘the right attitude’?” Should we, for example, meet in an upper room? “Of course not; that would be foolish!” one might say. But then another could say, “But that’s the way Jesus did it.”

Should we only meet in Jerusalem, like Jesus did? That would be closer in one respect to the original. Or should we have breaking of bread only once a year, at Passover time? (I think some churches do this very thing. I hasten to add: not any Christadelphians that I know of.) Or should we limit it to twelve, or thirteen, and should they be only men? And should it be at night? Should we wash one another’s feet beforehand? Etcetera. Etcetera.

I remember reading, years ago, about brother Elijah Eze, in Nigeria. He was a single brother, in isolation in a small village, who took the hills and lived in the caves with his fellow villagers during the civil war. The armies swept back and forth, through his village, again and again, and the villagers hid in the caves, and came out at night to find food and water. During this long period (some six months, I think) he spent his days reading his Bible and talking to everyone in sight about his faith… with the effect that — when the war moved on and the villagers returned to their homes — there were a fair number of other, new Christadelphians along with brother Elijah.

How did they remember their Lord while in the cave? With water or mango juice instead of wine, and with some kind of roots instead of bread. Would anyone have objected?

I am also reminded of the brother who characteristically spoke of “taking bread and wine” — but he had an accent that made “wine” come out as “whine”. (Some say all Texans sound like that! Maybe so. But this brother REALLY did!). If I’ve told this before, please stop me… 🙂 Anyway, whenever I heard him, I couldn’t help thinking of the rejoinder: “If we meet together to take bread and WHINE on Sunday, wouldn’t it really be better to do our WHINING at home before coming to meeting?”

Unity, of faith and practice, is a precious thing. Surely we should do everything we possibly can to encourage it. Finding a way so that the type of bread we eat, and the type of “fruit of the vine” we drink, does not create disunity… would be a good step in that direction. Eliminating “whining” would also help. Did any of Elijah’s new brothers and sisters “whine”?

I have heard of one small group, with individuals from different “fellowships”, who meet together regularly… where two plates of bread are available (one for “us”, and one for “them”), but only one cup of wine. Why? Because (1) they wanted a sense of fellowship with one another, but (2) some, when they later return to their “home ecclesias”, might need to answer the question: “Did you break bread with ‘them’?” To which they could truthfully answer, “No” — while all the time knowing that they had shared the wine (but not the bread) with “them”. But then, no one would ever think to ask, “Did you drink wine with ‘them’?”

When I think of that, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.