Many years ago, I had to travel a thousand miles three different times to have sight-saving surgeries. The hospital in that city had an arrangement with a nearby hotel that gave discounts to patients who had to stay a week or more. On our first week-long stay, we found the accommodations nice and the free buffet breakfast above the usual in quality. The waitress who served us was friendly and attentive. We talked with her a few minutes nearly every time she stopped by with coffee refills, extra napkins, and other things we needed during the meal.
The second surgery came six months after the first. Once again we were there for a week, and surgery was on the agenda. Our first morning, before we could say anything, the waitress popped out with, "I remember you. You treated me like a person and talked to me. Everyone else treats me like furniture." We were flabbergasted; we really hadn't done anything special. When we left the hotel restaurant, I left my purse sitting on the floor next to our table. Back in the room, we discovered what I had done, and called the front desk. "The waitress is on her way up to your room," we were told. "She found your purse and asked for your room number." We had not given her our name, but had mentioned the eye surgery, so that was how she described us and found us. We opened our door, and sure enough, there she came walking down the hall. We were not trying to get something out of being nice to someone, but it certainly paid off—all of our travel money was in that purse!
A few years ago, Keith had to have a fairly serious and complex surgery. He was in the hospital 5 nights and the surgeon had made arrangements for a private room so I could stay with him as a "medical necessity" to help him communicate due to his profound deafness. When you don't feel well, the concentration required for lip-reading becomes next to impossible, and one cannot always wear over the ear hearing aids (the strongest ones) while lying in bed due to feedback from the pillow behind your head. We never thought anything about how we were acting during those five nights and six days. But on the fourth day, one of the nurses came in to say good-bye. She would be off the next two days and we would be gone before she got back to work. "I just want to know where you go to church," she said. "You two are different." Once again we were surprised. Different? How? Because we treated the nurses like people, asked about them and their families, and actually said please and thank you. "You would be surprised," we were told, "how other patients treat us--like personal slaves."
We still are not sure exactly what we did in those two occasions except this maybe: we are quick to spout, "Love your neighbor," but sometimes we don't know how to apply the rest of it, "Like yourself." It's this—you treat them "as" yourself, and what are you? A person, not a slave, not a robot, not an inconvenience or aggravation—a person, one who has feelings, rights, opinions, families, and the same sorts of problems you do, someone who deserves respect and consideration. You train yourself to do that in every situation and then when circumstances are difficult, the kindness that has become second nature to you still comes out rather than a quick temper, irritation, ugly comments or name-calling. You understand that you are part of God's plan to reach the lost and that means that even in a short moment of contact, you show them the love and grace and mercy that God has shown you.
I suspect most of you are doing this already. I learned it from my Daddy, who always made a point to know people's names and to ask about them and their lives away from whatever milieu he had found them in. As this world becomes uglier and people are afraid to even look one another in the eye and smile, remember the Lord's oft repeated command. Love your neighbor as yourself—as a human being—because that's what you were when someone found you. You never know what might make a difference in a person's life, or in their hope of salvation.
If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing well. But if you show partiality, you are committing sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it (Jas 2:8-10).
Dene Ward
The second surgery came six months after the first. Once again we were there for a week, and surgery was on the agenda. Our first morning, before we could say anything, the waitress popped out with, "I remember you. You treated me like a person and talked to me. Everyone else treats me like furniture." We were flabbergasted; we really hadn't done anything special. When we left the hotel restaurant, I left my purse sitting on the floor next to our table. Back in the room, we discovered what I had done, and called the front desk. "The waitress is on her way up to your room," we were told. "She found your purse and asked for your room number." We had not given her our name, but had mentioned the eye surgery, so that was how she described us and found us. We opened our door, and sure enough, there she came walking down the hall. We were not trying to get something out of being nice to someone, but it certainly paid off—all of our travel money was in that purse!
A few years ago, Keith had to have a fairly serious and complex surgery. He was in the hospital 5 nights and the surgeon had made arrangements for a private room so I could stay with him as a "medical necessity" to help him communicate due to his profound deafness. When you don't feel well, the concentration required for lip-reading becomes next to impossible, and one cannot always wear over the ear hearing aids (the strongest ones) while lying in bed due to feedback from the pillow behind your head. We never thought anything about how we were acting during those five nights and six days. But on the fourth day, one of the nurses came in to say good-bye. She would be off the next two days and we would be gone before she got back to work. "I just want to know where you go to church," she said. "You two are different." Once again we were surprised. Different? How? Because we treated the nurses like people, asked about them and their families, and actually said please and thank you. "You would be surprised," we were told, "how other patients treat us--like personal slaves."
We still are not sure exactly what we did in those two occasions except this maybe: we are quick to spout, "Love your neighbor," but sometimes we don't know how to apply the rest of it, "Like yourself." It's this—you treat them "as" yourself, and what are you? A person, not a slave, not a robot, not an inconvenience or aggravation—a person, one who has feelings, rights, opinions, families, and the same sorts of problems you do, someone who deserves respect and consideration. You train yourself to do that in every situation and then when circumstances are difficult, the kindness that has become second nature to you still comes out rather than a quick temper, irritation, ugly comments or name-calling. You understand that you are part of God's plan to reach the lost and that means that even in a short moment of contact, you show them the love and grace and mercy that God has shown you.
I suspect most of you are doing this already. I learned it from my Daddy, who always made a point to know people's names and to ask about them and their lives away from whatever milieu he had found them in. As this world becomes uglier and people are afraid to even look one another in the eye and smile, remember the Lord's oft repeated command. Love your neighbor as yourself—as a human being—because that's what you were when someone found you. You never know what might make a difference in a person's life, or in their hope of salvation.
If you really fulfill the royal law according to the Scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing well. But if you show partiality, you are committing sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it (Jas 2:8-10).
Dene Ward
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