This is what I would have posted after 3 weeks. I’m just about caught-up.
Three weeks and one day…. I’m still sane, I think.
Today, Pastor Steven began a series of sermons leading to Easter Sunday. He started with a little history of one of the progenitors of Christ… Rahab, the Harlot. Her story actually begins with God’s people of Israel, after 40 years of roaming the desert waiting for the last of the adults who left Egypt to die off in the desert.
Yes, even the stalwart leaders, Moses, Aaron, and Miriam were dead. Everyone had been on the boarders of the promised land 40 years earlier waiting to go in, but somebody got the idea that perhaps Moses (God) didn’t know what he was talking about. They wanted to send in some spies to evaluate the situation… You know, check on the armies that they would be going up against… See what kind of farmland was there… See what the women looked like (they weren’t worried about the men, those would all be killed in battle if all went well), custom was, after all, that the women and kids would be divided up with the cattle and other soils of battle.
This is where they took one of many wrong steps. God said he would “give” them the land. What was it about “give” that they didn’t understand? It is one of the enemies oldest lies, “God doesn’t really mean that give. You’ll have to fight for it… like everything else you get in life.”
So in bravado and distrust, they sent out 12 spies. Everything exceeded their expectations! Even the soldiers were giants that made them feel like grasshoppers. When all but 2 of them are so negative that they cause the whole group to balk at crossing the river, God get pissed and says nobody is going into the land but Moses, where he plans to start over again with his descendants.
“Whoa! Just a minute!! On second thought… How hard can this be? We can do it,” the people cry out.
“Too late,” God warns. Sure enough, less than half the soldiers survive that first fight. Moses pleads for the people before God, and He relinquishes, telling them that only 2 of the existing adults will ever see that Promised Land.
Fast forward forty years and the kids have all buried their parents and they stand on the river bank again. Caleb and Joshua, the two faith-filled spies from forty years ago are now the leaders. BUT, are they really faith-filled? The people of Israel had already goofed by sending out spies 40 years earlier!
Not only that, but the record says, (Joshua 2:1) “Then Joshua son of Nun secretly sent two spies from Shittim. “Go, look over the land,” he said, “especially the city of Jericho.” So they went and entered the house of a prostitute named Rahab and stayed there.”
This raises some loaded questions:
Why did they only go as far as Rahab’s Whorehouse? Or did they stop there for a “quickie” on the way home?
How did she recognize them as the spies?
I think: They went to Rahab’s primarily, because they were men! They were “discovered” as soon as they disrobed revealing their circumcised anatomy.
Why didn’t she rat on them?
I think: She and her family needed salvation in order to be progenitors of Christ.
She didn’t rat them out because she recognized what they, themselves couldn’t… that God was with the Israelites.
03-07-2010 Growing Old Gracefully
I think that it was Wednesday, of last week, that Evelyn wanted me to color her hair… which she hasn’t done for more than a year. It may have something to do with her 50th High School reunion that is coming up in early-April.
She tells friends that she’s tired of being looked on as a “Cougar,” (an older woman stalking a much younger man) when she’s in public with me. That may just be a hot topic… or laced with truth.
It is true that she spends a lot more time than I, exercising and maintaining a healthy body, but she’s always had the salt-and-pepper, then white hair that sabotages her of an older age… so I don’t blame her for going for the younger-hair look.
Well, after the job was completed, she looks great! If I had any hair to be gray, I could be her Sugar-daddy! Which gives me an idea… I’ve decided that I will cease cutting my hair until the reunion and dye whatever grows in a silver-white. That should complete the Sugar-daddy effect to her glory.
My retirement income is barely a third more than hers is… not exactly Sugar-daddy material, but it’s what people see that counts… right? So, three cheers for my “Trophy Wife!” Let the young genes out to romp!
Yup! That’s me trotting along behind as she shops.