Peach time in Texas and the trees are loaded! Friday the 4th I picked twenty pounds, took them home and sliced and diced them for the freezer. 
And yesterday evening I took two friends back with me and we picked fifty pounds of yummy, organically grown, reddish delights.
I selected each peach and carefully plucked and placed the fuzzy fruit in my bag. But, in spite of careful handling, some peaches arrived in my kitchen blemished and bruised.
Grabbing my soup pot I brought water to a boil, filled the sink with ice water, preparing to slip the skins off and slice the fragrant beauties. To my horror, the peaches were wormy. Little white, yucky worms had burrowed holes clear to the seed, leaving portions of the flesh brown and mushy.
Now my Mama was never into canning and freezing or gardening—the food kind. So I learned from the cooking channel, recipe books, and trial and error. And in my younger, stupid years, I would have pitched the whole lot of peaches in the garbage.
But as I stood at the sink this afternoon, I recalled a memorable lady who taught me to value food God provided.
Her name was Mildred McWhorter and she operated two mission centers in Houston’s inner-city. Along with several friends, I worked at the missions a day or two a week. We picked up bread from a local grocery store and transported it to the missions to be given away. When the lady in charge of store donations learned where the bread was going we found much, much more than bread in our baskets—detergent, rice, beans, and even an occasional toy or doll. The donations grew until we needed two cars to haul this marvelous provision from God.
One morning Kathy and I were unloading a super-sized car-full of goodies when I heard Mildred’s voice bellowing above the sounds of the city. “Well, you certainly don’t love your baby if you can’t take thirty-minutes to listen to God’s Word.”
I turned toward the mission entrance where she stood with this enormous man. Now Mildred was no small woman, but he dwarfed her. The man shook his head and mumbled something we couldn’t hear, but by the expression on his face we knew he was angry. Very angry.
In her booming out-door voice Mildred retorted, “No. No lesson from the Word—No diapers or formula.” She didn’t flinch.
The man turned in a rage, jumped in his car, and screamed insults at her all the way down the street.
Kathy and I were frightened, but when he left we questioned Mildred about the wisdom of sending him away empty-handed. “Should we feed the body and ignore the soul?” With her hands firmly planted on her hips, she glared first at me then at Kathy.
“No ma’am,” we whispered.
“If your child was hungry would you do everything in your power to get them food?” Her glare demanded an answer.
“Yes ma’am,” we replied in unison.
“And anyone with a hungry, messy baby would too. He didn’t want the food for a baby. He was going to sell it on the corner. How could I stand before God to answer why I fed his body, but not his soul?”
She turned abruptly as one of the volunteers dumped several huge bags of potatoes in a can to be taken to the dumpster. And in the same verbose voice bellowed, “What do you think you’re doing?”
The woman froze. Kathy and I were grateful we were not the object of attention of this courageous woman of God.
Mildred took the can and turned to all the helpers. “God provides everything we give others at this mission,” she said. “How arrogant we would be to throw food He provided in the garbage when it’s perfectly good—just because we’re lazy?” She reached down and picked out several potatoes and held them up for us to see. “Yes, there are a few bad spots.” She twisted them in her hand then handed them to the woman. “Cut out the bad spots,” she ordered.
I’ve never forgotten her words.
Those who came to the Mildred McWhorter Mission Centers knew they were going to receive spiritual as well as physical food. And those who came heard the Word of God. Many became brothers and sisters in Christ and God turned their lives around.
As I stood slicing wormy peaches this afternoon, I heard Mildred’s voice
and remembered the lesson. And I determined once again, not to be lazy. I cut out the bad spots and preserved the good fruit.
And that’s what the Lord Jesus gives us the strength to do in our lives when we receive Him as Savior and Lord. He gives us the power of the Holy Spirit to cut the bad spots out of our lives—blemishes of addictions, adultery, divorce. Worm holes of pride, idol worship, greed, and covetousness. And bruises caused by lack of forgiveness, rebellion, and anger. Any and all sins of our flesh and our spirit. So our lives can produce good fruit to the glory of God.
Church, we are required to be a holy bride, without spot or blemish. A bride set apart for Christ.
My beautiful bags of delicious, de-wormed peaches wait in the freezer to be 
transformed into ice cream, pies, cobblers, and smoothies. And they will be gone before next year’s crop. But my de-wormed heart and soul will survive for all eternity.
“The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but the mouth of the wicked conceals violence. Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all transgressions” (Proverbs 10:11-12 NAS).
“…from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way. Does a fountain send out from the same opening both fresh and bitter water? Can a fig tree, my brethren, produce olives, or a vine produce figs? Neither can salt water produce fresh. Who among you is wise and understanding? Let him show by his good behavior his deeds in the gentleness of wisdom” (James 3:10-13 NAS).
MOVING THE ANCIENT BOUNDARIES 