Why is the word Remember set in the beginning of the fourth commandment?

The word Remember is set in the beginning of the fourth commandment,[1] partly, because of the great benefit of remembering it, we being thereby helped in our preparation to keep it,[2] and, in keeping it, better to keep all the rest of the commandments,[3] and to continue a thankful remembrance of the two great benefits of creation and redemption, which contain a short abridgment of religion;[4] and partly, because we are very ready to forget it,[5] for that there is less light of nature for it,[6] and yet it restraineth our natural liberty in things at other times lawful;[7] that it comesthbut once in seven days, and many worldly businesses come between, and too often take off our minds from thinking of it, either to prepare for it, or to sanctify it;[8] and that Satan with his instruments much labor to blot out the glory, and even the memory of it, to bring in all irreligion and impiety.[9]

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Book Review: Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die

by John Piper.

This book is right up my alley. Back in my early blogging days I did a series of posts on the reasons for Christ’s death given to us in scripture. In a final summary post, I wrote this:

We have looked at only the explicit purpose statements [for Christ’s death] …. Any result of Christ’s death listed in scripture, however, is also an intended purpose of Christ’s death, and an important purpose of Christ’s death. God has the power and wisdom to do things so that only exactly what He wishes is accomplished—so that there are no unintended or tertiary results from anything God does.

What John Piper has done in this book is do all the extra work that I didn’t do when I looked at the purposes of Christ’s death. He’s taken fifty of the results of Christ’s death and listed them for us as fifty reasons why Jesus came to die. 

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In the Yellow Palette

 

Back in Minnesota, we had Indian paintbrushes—large showy paintbrushes with bright scarlet heads. We don’t have those fancy-schmancy paintbrushes here. Ours are mostly yellow; a few are orange. Some people call the orangey ones Indian paintbrushes, and they may be right about that name, but those are not the same paintbrushes Minnesotans call Indian paintbrushes.

This is not to say that the less showy paintbrushes of the Yukon aren’t perfectly nice. You can see how attractive they are in the photo from oldest son above. But they don’t say, “Hey look at me! Aren’t I spectacular?” the way those big red Minnesota paintbrushes do. 

I don’t know what is the correct common name for this variety of Yukon paintbrush. In defense of my uncertainty, I’ll tell you that there are over 200 species of paintbrushes and the majority of them grow in western North America. That’s a whole lot of species to keep straight, and if you’ve done any perusing of paintbrush photos, you know there might not be many visible differences among the various types of paintbrushes. And just to make things even more complicated, paintbrushes of the same species like to mix it up with their features in order to keep even an expert wildflower indentifier—like Judy K, for instance—on her toes. One plant of a particular paintbrush species will have a hairy stem, for example, while it’s supposedly identical twin living right next door will have a smooth, freshly shaven stem. Can you blame me for being confused?

Paintbrushes are members of the figwort family, and the colored tips that we admire aren’t really flowers at all, but  coloured leafish bits. (The term leafish bits is, of course, technical jargon.) Paintbrushes, then, are not flowers, but flower wannabes making a rather good show of it.  I shall give them an A for effort.

What you won’t see on their report card is a comment from the teacher saying  they play well with others. It’s not that paintbrushes don’t like being with others, but rather, that they like being with others a little too much. They are the clinging vines, or more precisely, the mosquitoes or lice of the plant world. That’s right: they are very pretty parasites. Paintbrushes attach their roots to the roots of nearby plants and suck nourishment from them, and they’ll die if you remove them from the life blood of their next-door neighbor. This means that if you decide you want paintbrushes in your wildflower garden, it’s a mistake to dig up a single plant for transplant. No, you must take the whole neighborhood with it so that the paintbrush has the plants it likes to parasitize living closeby.

I’ve transplanted paintbrushes and I knew enough to bring the surrounding grasses along, too. My paintbrushes did fine for a couple of years, but then died out. What I didn’t know is that it’s only once a whole colony of paintbrushes is established that you can count on natural reseeding to keep the colony going. With the number of plants I had—three or four altogether—I needed to help nature out a little by replanting every year if I wanted to keep paintbrushes in my garden. But all in all, given the complicated relationships paintbrushes thrive in, its probably best to leave them where they are and enjoy them there.

Previous wildflower posts: 

• Lavender Charm
• Into the Wild Blue
• The Blue Belles
• Stopping on Yellow
• Waving the White Flag
• Hot Pink
• Born to the Purple