The Trail Less-Traveled

I looked across the table at her frail frame. The smoke from her cigar curled a white trail through the air. Her heavy heart was palpable as she stared out the window at nothing in particular. The deep lines that coursed down her face gave testimony of a hard trail ridden. A year ago to the day, they had buried her son—his life taken by the effects of doctor-prescribed drugs. They had buried her daughter a short time ago too though she couldn't bring herself to give details.
 
What do you say? How do you help this broken woman? What could you possibly say to help ease her pain? I sensed the Lord telling me, "Just listen." So, this was my "action" much of the time during the following days...
 
We were in Albuquerque when we got the call—our friend needed help working in the sewer holes in a particular town in New Mexico. Huh. "OK, Lord," we prayed, "we've done a lot of things besides teaching and singing in our ministry. But working in sewer holes? You’ll need to confirm this one."

No calls came in for singing dates ... for any dates—just the looming prospect of the sewer work. We decided that the final confirmation would be the price of the horse motel where we would need to stay. We set the we-won't-go-over-this-much price and made the calls. After unsuccessful attempts to find a reasonably priced motel, we decided that this trip was a definite "no."
 
Then, one of our friends volunteered to put out the word to her rodeo group to see if they knew anyone in the area where we could stay. The word came back: "Yeah, there is one place. But the lady's pretty cranky." 

Well, in our ministry, we've handled 'cranky' pretty well, so we gave it a shot. I called her up and the price was right. She also had room for us. As we chatted, I found out she was an elderly woman and desperately needed the money. I felt a tremendous peace as I hung up the phone. If we're going to invest our money anywhere, I'm excited that we can help her out.
 
She was a bit on the crusty side, but I found from that first conversation, I liked her. We ended up coming in a week early and so, stayed at "Miss Haddie's" stable and RV park for a month and a week.
 
While Bruce spent some "iron sharpens iron" time helping our friend rebuild manholes in the sewer system, I spent most days in a smoke-filled room with my newfound friend—or trimming trees, feeding horses, and running trash to the dump for her. I discovered that in the middle of that hard shell lived a woman with a heart of gold.
 
The lingering question of "was coming here the right thing?" answered itself as I sat with Haddie, listening to her talk about her family, her joys and frustrations, her questions ... her life. I was grateful we chose to follow this "trail less-traveled." This adventure was out of the ordinary from our music ministry, but we knew we weren't supposed to be anywhere but here—for this woman and for our friend in the sewer holes.
 
We filled the role of protective neighbor as well. My phone rang about 8:00 one evening—a distressed voice meeting me on the other end. "Hey, I need you! Get over here, now!" Miss Haddie was in a panic.
"Miss Haddie, what's wrong?"
“Just get over here!" Click.
 
Phone in hand, I bolted out the door and raced for her house with Bruce hot on my heels. Looking back, I guess it wasn't too bright of us, running through a half lit stable yard toward who-knows-what—we just prayed and ran.
 
Rounding the corner of her house, we nearly careened into the man who rented the space next to us. "I don't know what's going on," he blurted out. "She's crazy!" I noticed, however, that this man's words were just a bit slurred. And, as he turned his head, I caught a whiff of the "spirit."
 
Leaving Bruce to talk to the man, I sprinted up the trailer house steps to Miss Haddie's front door.  
"Miss Haddie, it's Shara," I called through the door.
"Come in!"
I pushed the door open and nearly collided into my friend—with a pistol in her hand. She was scared and ticked off.
"Come with me," she commanded. I walked with her back out on the front porch (careful to stay clear of her pistol-hand), and we addressed the situation.
"I just wanted to borrow your ladder," the renter slurred in his defense.
"Well, you just kept bangin' on the door, yelling you were in Space 519," she retorted. "We don't have a Space 519. I didn't know who in the ___ you were!"
"Sorry, Ms. Haddie," he apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you."
 
Tempers cooled, and the situation was quickly resolved.
 
“You still want to borrow my ladder?" she asked.
"Yeah, but I'll get it tomorrow," he replied as he shuffled away.
 
Living at that little stable was definitely an experience. But it was well worth it. At the end of our stay, we saw Miss Haddie, a woman shrouded in depression, transform as she escaped from that spirit and joy engulfed her. And we saw our friend at the sewer holes receive crucial answers to some issues he faced.
 
Sometimes the Lord sends us to places that aren't necessarily our comfort zone—sometimes it’s more like a war zone. But we serve a very personal God Who will do whatever it takes to reach someone crying out—or to reach someone who a loved one is crying out about. (Luke 15:1-23)
 
The questions: Are we willing "to lay down our lives"—lay down what we aspire to be ... our desires and plans? Are we willing to leave the "ninety-nine" (our comfort zone) and go after the one (or two) who need the touch of God's love on the "trail less-traveled"?

"This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends”—John 15:12-13. 

 

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Shara's book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational true stories of God's encouragement on the trail less-traveled: https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

 

Strength in the Struggle

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing”—James 1:2-4.

I’ve never seen a cow give birth from start to finish. I usually come across this fascinating bit of Creation either halfway through the process, or when the calf is already on the ground.

I was keeping an eye on the one last cow from the rancher’s herd, as I figured she’d give birth within the next day or so. As I watched her, she lay down. Then she got up, circled and lay down again with her back legs stretched out. I knew it was time.

I walked back to the farmhouse and informed my mother-in-law and my husband, Bruce, that the herd would expand shortly. Bruce grabbed the binoculars and spied on the mama cow through the windows. I took his cue and stepped out on the front stoop and peered through another pair of nocs.

The miracle of life is awe-inspiring. How could anyone even imagine God isn’t real?

We watched every inch of the calf come out. When it finally was lying on the grass, we took off out the gate and across the pasture to check out the rest of the process. I named it Slick…until we found out she was a heifer (girl). Bruce promptly named her Slippy.

All wet and fresh, Slippy blinked and looked around at her new world, and the show began.  A low rumble sounded from her mama’s chest as she spoke to her calf. She proceeded to lick her all over to stimulate her new muscles.

Little did I know, I would receive some much needed encouragement…again…by the simple hand of God’s creative touch.

Slippy’s spindly little legs did their best to support her on the slick grass. Then her legs gave way, and she sprawled out. It was kind of comical, but at the same time I wanted to run over and help her. However, I knew full well this is a natural part of the process and I had to let her work it out.

We observed her mama during the whole ordeal. She licked the calf for a bit, then moved away and munched on grass. She didn’t seem concerned at all as Slippy resumed her strenuous efforts. But I watched her mama’s eyes—her eyes never left her calf.

I noticed that Slippy had difficulty getting her hind end to cooperate as she struggled to stand. Suddenly, Mama turned and stepped beside her. She licked Slippy’s hind end and the upper part of her back legs, stimulating them once again. By instinct, the mama worked on the parts of Slippy that gave her trouble. Then she moved off. 

Slippy started her mission again. She did a bit better this time—she got all fours on the ground. However, gravity prevailed and down she went again. But it was progress. I noticed that each time she struggled, she grew stronger. With the next attempt, she progressed a little more and fell less.

She never gave up, no matter how many times she seemed to fail, even when she toppled head-over-heels. She seemed to realize quitting meant dying. Her efforts weren’t just about getting to her feet. She needed to make it to the lifeline at her mother’s udder—the life-giving milk that would help her grow into a stronger calf and eventually to a mature cow where she could eat solid food—to grow up. (And, of course, to be strong enough to play with her bovine buddies in the pasture!)

In the struggles we face through the trials of life, we may feel as though the Lord has walked off. Or, if He’s standing next to us, it sure seems He isn’t doing much to help. But like that cow, He never takes His eyes off us. And at the exact time, He moves in and gives us exactly what we need, when we need it.

He also knows during the struggle, our muscles become stronger: faith-muscles, trust-muscles, etc. that have to be developed if we’re to stand strong.

Let’s be honest. Unless one thrives on drama, I don’t think anyone truly enjoys afflictions. The struggles we go through are hard. They’re frustrating. Sometimes it’s difficult to muster up the energy to try anymore. Yet, our very survival depends on us never giving up. And although we may assume, during our hardships, God has “left the building,” He hasn’t. Nor would He.

In fact, quite the contrary. Most of us have heard the verse, “He will never leave us, nor forsake us.” (Hebrews 13:5). Even though we may feel He has, our feelings are just that…feelings. And most of the time our feelings are not the truth.

The moral of my lesson that day? We all struggle—from the least to the greatest. It’s what we do in the struggle and with the struggle that makes the difference between life and death. The only real failure is if we lose hope and quit.

And I don’t know about you, but too many buzzards are hovering that are all too willing to swoop in, if I even think about giving up! 

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope”—Jeremiah 29:11.

www.ponyexpressministry.com

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

Mercy Sings in the Morning

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I hope in Him!”—Lamentations 3:22-24

   

It was quiet. Really, really quiet. And dark. We woke up early this particular morning to get ready to hit the road to sing at a little coastal church in Texas. I sat on the couch with my coffee, savoring the silence. The abundance of birds that take refuge on this farm were strangely silent. Even the obnoxious, never-ending noise of the nearby highway was silent.

I gazed toward the horizon though I couldn’t see past the barbed-wire fence. Slowly, a tiny glow appeared in the distance. Immediately, one lone bird, who apparently was perched somewhere in the tree above our rig, burst into song.

I listened in amazement. That bird waited until it saw the first light. It’s funny, the profoundness in something so simple. Even Creation knows to celebrate the light, to praise the mercies of a new morning.

Those profound moments always give me a deep comfort. No matter what’s going on, when God's Creation shows us the simplicity of life, suddenly things line up in perspective.

Bruce and I have stuff going on. Frustrating stuff. Sometimes it’s hard to keep our faith energized. But then, God knows our struggles. That bird reminded me to sing. Sing because Jesus is the light piercing the darkness. And it really doesn’t matter what life throws at us, we rejoice because He is the God of the impossible. He makes streams in a dry desert and roadways in a pathless wilderness. (Isaiah 43:19)

“Be anxious for nothing,” He says…well, actually commands. He knows who He is and what He is capable of. As we learn to trust Him more, we start getting a clue that He’s pretty mighty. Nothing fazes Him, nothing surprises Him.

Even the sparrows sing. They’re tiny and vulnerable—a blip on the radar in the aviary of life. Yet God knows what they need and provides for them. He even sees when they fall. So, if He cares about them, He cares deeply what is happening to us.

Sometimes we need these little reminders of God’s love. With no distractions, I heard and saw clearly His message on this early Sunday morning: Sing to Him a new song; Play skillfully with a shout of joy. (Psalm 33:3)

www.ponyexpressministry.com

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

Opportunities

 While scouting for a much needed truck, my husband Bruce and I have been privileged to hang around our home base and help family. One of these awesome opportunities came in the form of babysitting our little cousins over the summer as well as spot appearances in the fall and winter. It was a tad challenging from time to time as these kids live in a pretty tore up family life, so there were attitude adjustments here and there and yes, a lot of prayer. But, all in all, we had a blast together and developed a solid bond.

As I babysat these kids (six-year-old twins (boy and girl) and a nine-year-old autistic boy), I prayed for opportunities to introduce them to Jesus. We all need Him. But these guys needed a little extra dose. My heart was to show them how kind and mighty He is. That He is approachable, and He would help them if they were in trouble.

A variety of opportunities presented themselves throughout our time together—some profound, others more subtle, but every one important. Sometimes I got distracted and missed it, but those times just made me more determined to be quicker when the next opportunity came. With fervent prayers for wisdom, the Lord helped me field Creation, heaven and death questions; He helped me build on their grandparents’ foundation of praying over meals; And on one particular morning, He prompted me to take action and step out in faith.

That morning I walked in my aunt’s door for “work” and into a challenge. One of the twins was sick and “it” was coming out both ends. When things calmed down a bit, my aunt settled him on the couch with a trash can next to his head. She left for work, and I prayed for wisdom.

I watched his curled up form and couldn’t bear observing his misery. I knew right then that I needed to pray for him. I looked around at his twin sister, concern shadowing her face.

“You know what?” I told her. “We’re going to pray for Dax so he feels better.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“Come on,” I coaxed as I reached out my hand to her. “We can pray together.”
She crept forward with a skeptical expression, but she was game.
I held her hand and placed my other hand on Dax’s head. “Jesus, please make Dax feel better. Thank You, Jesus, for healing Dax. In Jesus Name, Amen.”

Dax relaxed, and Mila and I dug out the crayons and busied ourselves with masterpieces.

Dax used the trash can a couple more times, and then, in typical shy-Dax style, an arm emerged above the couch, fanning back and forth. I grinned: Dax’s unique “feel better” flag. Within the hour, he was up playing with his dinosaurs and Transformers.

Now, we were in full play mode…all of us. I cleared off the chest (a.k.a. the coffee table) to make room for horse corrals and a road for the truck and trailer. Tiny Transformer toys that scattered the chest top got tossed in my wellies (rubber rain boots) to keep them off the floor.

Mila and I corralled horses as Dax performed fly-bys with his Transformer fighter jets. Suddenly, a swift movement out the window caught my attention—a flash of flea-bitten gray. Oh, man! Somehow the ranch horse escaped from his pen and was having a high-time of it running around the yard!

Knowing the gate was open at the top of the driveway, I flew into action…and, yes, prayed again. I grabbed my wellies and stared into their uppers…brimming with Transformers. I promptly dumped them on the floor, jammed the boots on my feet, and slung on my coat and hat as I headed for the door.

As I hit the top of the landing, I saw the gray horse with his head buried in a feed bucket on the tie rail. Not knowing this horse, I quietly moved down the steps. He moved off toward a patch of grass. I had an idea. It was a ways up the lane to the open gate, and the horse seemed to have no interest in running off. I grabbed the bucket and slapped the side of it as I headed into the horse pen. Thankfully, the horse took an interest, and I safely lured him inside and secured the gate.

As I turned toward the house, I noticed I’d picked up two tails—both twins had bolted out the door, hot on my heels. I grinned as I observed Dax and gave a hearty “Thank You, Jesus.” I watched him run around like a penned up pooch that had won his freedom. He scooted across the yard with his hands shoved in his sweatshirt pockets, dancing from side to side.Then he took off to the ant pile to see if he could find any dead ants (frozen by the frigid temperatures).

He showed no signs of slowing down. Part of me wanted to stop him for fear, since he had just been sick, that he would relapse. And then the thought came, “Whoever Jesus heals, is healed…period.” So, I kicked that fear out of my mind and let him rip.

I’m thankful for the God-given courage to step out and take advantage of opportunities that not only put feet to my faith, but also showed these kids by example, the love of Jesus. 

We will not hide them from their children, telling to the generation to come the praises of the Lord, and His strength and His wonderful works that He has done—Psalm 78:4.

 

www.ponyexpressministry.com

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

The Art of the Ear: When God Speaks

“But whoever listens to Me will dwell safely and will be secure, without fear of evil”—Proverbs 1:33.

Giving God our ear. Hmmmmm. What does that look like? How does God speak to us? Many ask this.

For me, His voice has different “sounds”: He gives a strong impression in my spirit about a particular situation ... a gut feeling, if you will; The truths in His Word will come alive as I read and revelation hits me right between the eyes; He will move on someone to be His voice, giving me an encouraging word; He’ll give me a dream while I’m sleeping; Or, He may use pictures in His amazing Creation to illustrate His character.

When He speaks to me through His Creation, that’s incredibly cool. One time, I was out feeding the horses trying to work through some stuff in my head. I glanced up and saw the most magnificent full rainbow I’d ever seen— and a double one to boot. The colors were so vibrant and alive. I ran to the trailer and grabbed my camera. As I stared at that rainbow, profound thoughts eased my mind: Our Creator created incredible beauty out of mere mist; Every rainbow from the very first one is the same—the same colors, the same lines, the same form. They don’t change. He doesn’t change. His promises never change. In this world, we can’t count on anything. But we can count on Him—encouragement I needed right then and a word in due season. (Isaiah 52:7)

He used a gentle breeze to encourage an acquaintance of mine. She was reading her Bible outside, troubled by a circumstance she faced. The breeze kept blowing the pages to a certain scripture. Every time she tried to turn back to the previous spot where she was reading, the breeze would flip the pages right back to that other place. She finally looked down where the breeze stopped—there she found the answer to her problem.

He likes to speak through people to give His encouraging words. Years ago I was asked to sing at a trail ride in Texas. When I pulled up on the ranch, my heart was heavy. I had a new truck, two beautiful horses and looked as though I hadn’t a care in the world. But on the inside, I was hurting and scared. I had two jobs: one in an office, one on a ranch. A “friend” betrayed me and stole the ranch job—the one I had based my truck payment on. Single, with no other means of extra support, I was afraid of losing everything.

A few days before I drove to the trail ride, I prayed, “Lord, please make yourself real to me.” Until then, I did not believe the Lord really knew I existed—unless I hung out with people I thought were spiritual. Let me tell ya, the devil had deceived me good!

I parked my rig and made my way over to a big oak tree. I leaned against it, quietly watching the other singers on the stage. A man and his wife, whom I had never met, walked up. “I have a word for you from the Lord,” he said. That man “read my mail.” He told me, “The Lord said, ‘all your needs are already taken care of.’” I was floored. I had not told a soul what I was going through, not even my closest friends. How in the world did this guy know my situation?

One week later, I received some cleaning jobs that perfectly dovetailed with my day job at the office. The wages from the cleaning jobs covered my old ranch wages to the dollar.

Two months later, the same man gave me another word from the Lord: I would be given one job that would take care of all my needs. Within three months, I quit my cleaning jobs because the office I worked for offered me a higher position in another department with a lot more pay.

I have learned that He is always directing us with that still small voice of His ... or trying to. I’ve blown right over the top of it— more than once, I’m afraid. One time, He impressed on Bruce, my husband and me to clean up the pine needles under the high-line our horses were tethered to. We didn’t, getting distracted with some other project. Our “Hoover”-horse, Rocky, decided he very much liked the taste of pine needles, proceeding to suck up every strand in the area. He promptly colicked. We were way out in the National Forest with no phone service. Prayer and the painkiller Banamine played veterinarian. He was pooping pine needles for the next day and a half, but he pulled through.

In all my years with horses in the mountains, I have never seen them eat pine needles. I never, ever imagined that Rocky would do that. But it didn’t matter what I thought or what my experience was. The Lord told us to rake up the pine needles ... period. He knew what would happen. Lesson learned ... again!

Fine-tuning the art of the ear takes practice. Sometimes total resurrection. But it’s an art worth bringing back to life. It means laying down our own desires and agendas. It takes not just being hearers of the Word of God, but doers of what He’s asked us to do. (James 1:22-25)

And the reward? We can live a life of victory and peace, encouraging others in the same. (John 15:12-13)

Listen ... Listen ... Listen ...

www.ponyexpressministry.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore.

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


The Biker Bar

Funny how something simple triggers a hankering to visit unknown places and to experience new adventures. So it was when we saw the cover of a Christian magazine. Our friend, a cowboy pastor, posed on the cover with a biker, also a pastor.

Intrigued, I flipped the pages to the article. This biker-pastor sounded like the real deal, and the Holy Spirit nudged Bruce and I to visit his church … in a bar. A biker bar. Cool!

Main street was quiet in the small town of Meridian, Idaho as we slowly drove around to the back of the bar to park. We strolled down the sidewalk passing motorcycles of every style neatly lined up side by side with their back tires against the front curb.

We didn’t know what to expect. Cautiously we opened the old wooden door, letting our eyes adjust to the dark room. As we stood in the doorway, we figured we’d be as conspicuous as a neon light with our cowboy boots and hats amidst the leathers and dew rags of the bikers. And, I’m pretty sure, we were the only ones who didn’t sport tats somewhere on our bodies.

Rough-looking, tatted, leathered, rode-hard parishioners graced the dim room with their warmth. And we felt more welcome there than we had in the “religious” establishments with their new carpet and fancy digs. We found a couple of stools next to a video game and settled in with our backs against a vintage juke box. 

Before the service started, I decided to use the restroom and made my way through the crowd. As I opened the restroom door, I nearly collided with a woman on her way out. The tattoos on her face, hands and arms, her wild hair, and her generally tough exterior belied the light and peace in her eyes.

My first thought? “Whoa, I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley.” But looking in those eyes and hearing her joyful, accepting, friendly greeting reminded me once again to never judge a book by its cover.

Most of the congregation had been rode-hard-and-put-away-wet.  But they’d also found Jesus. God’s grace had saved them from a very hard life.

The service started with a guy and his guitar. I looked around the stage and noticed a drum set and other evidence that this church had a band. And yet, there was just this guy and his guitar. You could tell he loved the Lord, but he was nervous, apologizing for messing up a song as he started over on his guitar. He did his best filling in for the worship team.

His voice may not have been American Idol quality, and maybe he more than once fumbled around on his guitar. But what touched me was his heart—it lit up the room. I smiled as God revealed, yet again, that the performance is not as important as a person’s heart.

We all joined him in one accord, singing “Turn your eyes upon Jesus.”  How appropriate. I caught a movement to my left, and an old biker rose from his chair with something in his hand. An American flag dew rag adorned the top of his gray head, and his long ponytail swung down over the biker colors of his leather jacket. He lifted the object in his hands to his lips and the sweet, earthy tones of a harmonica filled the room. He played in perfect time with the guitar and voices.

It was simple, raw.  And the Holy Spirit infiltrated that old bar. Tears welled in my eyes as the peace of God soothed my hurting soul. All the disappointment from dealing with other “worship” teams and churches with their critical, performance-based attitudes melted away. This is how it should be, I thought. This is how God always intended it to be—simple, yet powerful.

The old biker danced from one foot to the other in the joy of the Lord as his harmonica sang. And then he lowered his hands and quoted Matthew 18:20, “Where two or more are gathered in My Name, there will I be.”  And we all knew that Jesus stood with us in that dark, musty, beer-stained biker bar. 

The rest of that day continued to be one of the best times we’ve ever had with fellow believers. No pomp or parades. No ruses or airs. It was uncomplicated. It was genuine. It was Jesus.

The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen (2 Corinthians 13:14).

 www.ponyexpressministry.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore. 

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


To Judge or Not To Judge?

It’s interesting how a Facebook post, a road sign, or someone’s general comment sparks one’s motivation into a full-blown, in-depth Bible study.  This particular spark came from a Facebook post and inspired my husband, Bruce, into the following research. 

There is a trend infiltrating a lot of churches today. It could be labelled, “We don’t judge!”  Well, if you've happened across this little confusing mantra, I encourage you to read on.  I know this study set things pretty straight for me …

Guest Post by Bruce Repka:

Let us not therefore judge one another any more: but judge this rather, that no man put a stumbling block or an occasion to fall in his brother's way. - Romans 14:13

And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all judgment; - Philippians 1:9

Are these two verses in opposition to one another? Is this a scriptural contradiction? Absolutely not. Are we, as the church, to judge or not to judge? Are we to use godly judgement, biblical judgement, or are we to live and let live allowing in the church a mindset of "anything goes?" 

To answer these questions we must first have an understanding of the definition of the word “judge."

The word “judge" found in Romans 14:13 is the greek word 2919 krino  which means to distinguish, i.e. decide (mentally or judicially); by implication, to try, condemn, punish:--avenge, conclude, condemn, damn, decree, determine, esteem, judge, go to (sue at the) law, ordain, call in question, sentence to, think.

The word "judgement" found in Philippians 1:9 is the greek word 144 aisthesis = perception, i.e. (figuratively) discernment:--judgment. 

This word has it's foundations in the greek word 143 aisthanomai of uncertain derivation; to apprehend (properly, by the senses):--perceive.

Then we also have a form of the word "judge" in 1 Corinthians 14:29 - "Let the prophets speak two or three, and let the other judge."

This word "judge" is the greek word 1252 diakrino; to separate thoroughly, i.e. (literally and reflexively) to withdraw from, or (by implication) oppose; figuratively, to discriminate (by implication, decide), or (reflexively) hesitate:--contend, make (to) differ(-ence), discern, doubt, judge, be partial, stagger, waver.

This word also has it's foundations in the greek word 2919 krino (see above)

So in summary, we can biblically define the word "judge" as meaning the following:

distinguish, decide, conclude, decree, determine, esteem, call in question, think, perception, discernment, separate thoroughly. 

OR: try, condemn, punish:--avenge, condemn, damn, sentence to, discriminate.

These are two groups of very different definitions. All these words are translated from the original greek to the english word “judge."

Therefore,  each use of the word "judge" in scripture must be examined and defined in CONTEXT as a whole of what is being said. If we resort to a conclusion that we as the church, disciples of Jesus Christ, must NEVER judge, then that would mean that we would never be allowed to call into question, decide, think, perceive or discern. If we are to never discern, that would mean we would have to reject and ignore the Holy Spirit, as "discerning of spirits" is a gift and anointing of the Holy Spirit.

If we are not to decide, discern or call into question, then that would mean there are many instances given in scripture that we will have to ignore and remove from our midst. Instructions and scriptures such as the following:

Let the prophets speak two or three, and let the other judge.

I Corinthians 14:29

If we are to not properly judge prophecy, that would mean we as the church would have to tolerate and accept any false prophet and false prophecy in our midst simply because there is no longer a standard to think, discern, perceive or call into question anything that is uttered by any so-called "prophet" or false prophet who "prophesies" in the name of the Lord. We would no longer require the lens of scripture in which to view and/or confirm or decide who among us is a true prophet of God or a charlatan. 

Sadly, this is already happening and has been happening in much of the "church."

Secondly, if we turn off and do away with godly, scriptural judgement, then we have to ignore biblical instructions such as the following:

Them that sin rebuke before all, that others also may fear. - 1 Timothy 5:20

Preach the word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long-suffering and doctrine. - II Timothy 4:2

This witness is true. Wherefore rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the faith; - Titus 1:13

These things speak, and exhort, and rebuke with all authority. Let no man despise thee. - Titus 2:15

For if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged. - 1 Corinthians 11:31

First cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye. - Matthew 7:5

And thou hast tried them which say they are apostles, and are not, and hast found them liars: - Revelation 2:2

Without Godly, scriptural "judgement" (discernment, perception, thinking, distinguishing, calling into question) then the church can no longer:

1. Rebuke

2. Recognize and deal with sin

3. Enforce sound doctrine

4. Apply biblical correction

5. Deal with sin in our own lives

6. Set those free who are held in the destructive grips of sin

7. Test and try deceiving spirits

8. Be the church

The flip side of "judgment" is to try, condemn, punish, damn, sentence, discriminate.

This form of judgement is the judgement of God, which we must leave up to Him. This is not to say that we do not warn those and try to save those who are headed toward destruction. But if we are to no longer "judge" in any sense of the word, then we can no longer warn anyone of the impending destruction they are headed towards. Because, no longer discerning, perceiving or thinking—everyone is OK. There is no longer a biblical standard for what being a "Christian" is. It's "anything goes." Whatever works for you is fine with the church and with God. There is no condemnation for those in Christ. It doesn't matter if we walk after the flesh or the spirit. After all, what did those archaic scribes of scripture know anyway?

Congratulations, church. This is exactly where we are today. We no longer talk about and deal with sin. We no longer use our discernment, think with our own minds, call into question unbiblical practices and doctrines, perceive wrong teaching and wrong spirits. We no longer conclude that there are false prophets among us, false spirits in our midst, those who are offering "strange fire" and leading many astray. Yes, the infiltration of the politically correct doctrine of "no judgment" whatsoever has escorted much of the church into an apostate, drunken, fallen, lukewarm, unrepentant, defiled, miserable state. 

Jesus has stood at the door knocking, but we esteem the tickling of our ears and therefore refuse to let Him in. We refuse to be rebuked and chastened and therefore allow all manner of sin and leaven in the camp. We dare not let the Bible get in our way of what we believe. We are proud of our preaching of a different gospel, a different Jesus and a salvation without repentance, transformation and sanctification. After all, we have "evolved" and are so much more "spiritual" than those whose examples we read of in the book of Acts who walked with and were taught by Jesus. We gladly accept, promote and anoint for service those who love their sin and refuse to repent. We unashamedly hang onto mantra's such as "don't judge me because I sin differently than you." 

Sadly, much of the church are comfortable being slaves to sin as we proudly and desperately cling to our Romans 7 way of life. 

What then? shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but under grace? God forbid. Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves slaves to obey, his slaves ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness? - Romans 6:15-16

Jesus answered them, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin. And the slave abideth not in the house for ever: but the Son abideth ever. If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” - John 8:34-36

The failure to understand and properly judge within the church has really revolutionized, enlightened and liberated the Body of Christ, don't ya think?

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