Today's post is by Keith Ward.

Back in the old days when I was young, boys carried pocketknives everywhere—especially to school. Of course, we showed them off during recess and we whittled, not so much to make things but to prove whose knife was the sharpest. So, I learned to sharpen knives. And then Dad taught me to sharpen axes and I learned to take pride that my mower blades were as sharp as anyone's pocketknife. The mower cuts better and easier for a smoother lawn.

After I left full time preaching, I often preached by appointment in small churches and these were usually too far away to return home for lunch. Of course, someone would take me (or us) in for lunch. As a way to show gratitude, I would offer to sharpen their kitchen knives. I have been amazed to find that few know how to sharpen.  I still recall one sister asking me not to get them too sharp so she would not cut herself.  No amount of discussion or logic would convince her that a dull knife was more dangerous and more likely to result in serious cuts. But, it is true, one pushes harder to cut with a dull knife and it is more likely to slip and the force of the push will result in a more serious cut. A sharp knife would have cut the object more easily and resulted in no accident at all.

Dull knives are a danger in the church. Most of the trouble I have witnessed in 50 years has been caused by people of dull understanding but a sharp sense of the value of their opinion. They wield them wildly, slashing the air all about, certain that because they have not changed their minds in years, it must be truth. They bruise the innocent, slash the sensitive, kill the ignorant seekers. 

            But, should you attempt to sharpen their knowledge and understanding with sound scripture and unassailable logic, they will either go away in a huff or grudgingly concede, but spout that same dull basic or even erroneous point the next time that subject comes up. They can be sharpened no more than the edge of a two by four.

One's knowledge, understanding and abilities are not sharpened alone in the study. They are brought to a smooth and "sharp as a two-edged sword" edge by discussions with another of a different, even opposing viewpoint (sometimes, even sharp discussions). To become sharp, one must listen, then think, then give answer, listen, then think. If both are honest, one will change or both will. The truth may be that neither is wholly right but you are both sharpened by the discussion.

Think seriously: When did you last have an argument about the Word? An honest toward God argument determined to win and show the other the truth, yet also willing to listen. It likely has been too long and you have become dull in an age where no one wants to argue for anything.

The last step of sharpening a knife is to put it to the steel to true the edges. In fact, many times, this is all a knife needs as the edges were bent aside by being used. Thus, the chefs on a cooking show are often seen whetting their knives on a steel.

So, also do you. Learn something. Form an opinion. Go out to your friends and brothers and test it against the steel of other views. GROW sharper.
 
"Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another. " (Prov 27:17).

Keith Ward

I know I promised you lessons about some barely mentioned women in the New Testament, but I just cannot leave Apollos out of the mix, especially since his life was at least momentarily entwined with our last lesson on Priscilla.
            A certain Jew named Apollos, an Alexandrian by race, an eloquent man…mighty in the Scriptures, Acts 18:24.  Alexandria was a city in Egypt on the shore of the southern Mediterranean, known for its schools and its libraries.  It was the intellectual and cultural center of ancient times.  If you were Alexandrian, you were probably very well educated; it was like saying someone has a degree from Harvard.  More Jews lived in Alexandria than anywhere else in the world.  The Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, was translated there.  Besides being well-educated, Apollos was an orator and a good one at that.  Oratory was one of the things wealthy young Greeks studied and was considered a fine art.  People went to hear speakers the same way we go to concerts or plays.  It was entertainment and the good orators had a following.  That means that Apollos might even have been a celebrity of sorts in the Greek world.
            So now we have a well-educated man, knowledgeable in the Scriptures, and something of a celebrity, who is approached by a couple of blue collar tradesmen, and one of them a woman, and told he does not know "the way of God" as accurately as he thinks he does.  What does he do?  He listens to them.  With an open mind.  And when he sees the truth of the matter, he changes.  Can you imagine that happening today?  Any celebrity nowadays would have a battery of bodyguards to keep ordinary people away, and anyone with that much education would simply sneer at someone with only the equivalent of a high school diploma.
            Unfortunately, listening carefully to another viewpoint doesn't even happen in the church as often as it should.  Too many times a man can't even be shouted down because he won't stop long enough to really hear and carefully and honestly consider what he is being shown.  He is too certain he is right, and that he knows so much more than the one trying to help him, especially someone younger, or less educated, or even less well off financially, as if somehow that could possibly matter.  And if a woman says something?  Forget it.  He cannot possibly learn anything from a woman.  In fact, it might be unscriptural, regardless the example of Priscilla.  I have seen those attitudes again and again.
            Apollos is one marvelous lesson on humility.  Any time we cannot be troubled to listen to someone else we need to remember this.  After his instruction by Priscilla (who had an important role in the discussion because her name is mentioned first) and Aquila, Apollos went on to powerfully confute the Jews…showing by the scripture that Jesus was the Christ (18:28).  He could not have done that without those two humble servants' help and instruction.  When our pride gets in the way, what will we not be able to do for the Lord?
 
​Seek the LORD, all you humble of the land, who do his just commands; seek righteousness; seek humility; perhaps you may be hidden on the day of the anger of the LORD (Zeph 2:3).  
 
Dene Ward

When I was 14 a new young doctor came to town, one who was not afraid to “think outside the box.”  My older doctor turned me over to him and he decided to try contact lenses on me.  I had been wearing coke bottle glasses since I was 4 and my vision declined steadily year after year with the bottoms of the coke bottles getting thicker and thicker.
            In those days, hard, nonporous contact lenses were all they had.  Usually they were the size of fish scales.  Mine were not any broader in circumference but they were still as thick as miniature coke bottle bottoms and nearly as heavy on my eyes.  Most people who wore normal lenses could only tolerate them for six to eight hours.  Now add a cornea shaped like the end of a football, a corrugated football at that, and these things were not meant to be comfortable on my eyes, certainly not for the 16-18 hours a day I had to wear them.
            So why did I do it?  My prescription was +17.25.  The doctor told me there was no number on the chart for my vision.  (“Chart?  What chart?  I don’t see any chart.”)  He said if there were, it would be something like 20/10,000, a hyperbole I am sure, but it certainly made the point.  Hard contacts were my only hope.  If they could stabilize my eyesight, I would last a bit longer.  When I was 20, another doctor told me I would certainly have been totally blind by then if not for those contact lenses.
            Then soft contact lenses were invented and their popularity grew.  But they were not for me.  They would not have stabilized my vision.  I lost count of the number of times people who wore soft lenses said to me, “I tried those hard ones, but I just could not tolerate them.  You are so lucky you can wear them.”
            Luck had nothing to do with it.  My young doctor was smart.  He sat me down and said, “The only way you will be able to do this with these eyes is to really want to.  You must make up your mind that you will do it no matter what.”  That was quite a burden to place on a fourteen year old, but his tactics worked.  Despite the discomfort, I managed, and managed so well that most people never knew how uncomfortable I was.  Finally, when what seemed like the 1000th person told me they just could not tolerate hard lenses, I said, “You didn’t need them badly enough.”  Most of us can do much more than we ever thought possible when we really have to.
            Need is a strong motivation.  A couple of thousand years ago, it motivated a woman to go where she was not expected, normally not even allowed, and certainly not wanted. 
            Simon the Pharisee decided to have Jesus for dinner.  I read that it was the custom of the day for the leading Pharisee in the town to have the distinguished rabbi over for a meal when he sojourned there.  While the man would invite his friends to eat the meal, an open door policy made it possible for any interested party to come in and stand along the wall to listen--any interested man, that is.  Of course, it was assumed that only righteous men would be interested.
            In walked a “sinful” woman.  Luke, in chapter 7, uses a word that does not in itself imply any specific sin, but it was commonly used by that society to refer to what they considered the lowest of sinners, publicans and harlots.  The mere fact that she was a woman also caused someone in the crowd to exclaim, “Look!  A woman!” in what we assume was horrified shock.
            The men were all lying around a low table with their bodies resting on a couch and their feet turned away from the table in the direction of the wall, while their left elbows rested on the table.  The woman came into the room, walked around the wall, and began crying over Jesus’ feet.  Immediately, she knelt to wipe his feet with her hair.  I am told that this too was unacceptable.  “To unbind and loosen the hair in public before strangers was considered disgraceful and indecent for a woman,” commentator Lenski says.  We later discover that these were dirty, dusty feet from walking unpaved roads in sandals.  How do we know?  Because Simon did not even offer Jesus the customary hospitable foot washing. 
            Then she took an alabaster cruse of ointment, a costly gift, and anointed his feet—not just a token drop or two, but the entire contents--once the cruse was broken open, it was useless as a storage container.
            What did Simon do?  Nothing outward, but Jesus knew what he thought, and told him a story. 
            One man owed a lender 500 shillings, and another owed him 50.  Both were forgiven their debts when they could not pay.  Who, Jesus asked him, do you think was the most grateful?  The one who owed the most, of course, Simon easily answered.
            And so by using his own prejudices against him, Jesus proved that Simon himself was less grateful to God than this sinful woman.  His own actions, or lack thereof toward Jesus was the proof.  This man, like so many others of his party, was completely satisfied with himself and where he stood before God.  And that satisfaction blinded him to his own need, for truly no one can stand before God in his own righteousness.  His gratitude suffered because he did not feel his need.  Would he have gone into a hostile environment and lowered himself to do the most menial work a servant could do, and that in front of others?  Hardly.
            So how much do I think I need the grace of God?  The answer is the same one to how far I will go to get it, how much I will sacrifice to receive it, and how much pain I will put up with for even the smallest amount to touch my life.  Am I a self-satisfied Simon the Pharisee, more concerned with respectability than with his own need for forgiveness, or a sinful woman, who probably took the deepest breath of her life and walked into a room full of hostile men because she knew it was her only chance at Life? 
 
And turning to the woman, he said unto Simon, See this woman? I entered into your house; you gave me no water for my feet: but she has wet my feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss: but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss my feet.  My head with oil you did not anoint: but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  So I say unto you, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  And he said unto her, Your sins are forgiven… Your faith has saved you; go in peace, Luke 7:44-48,50.
 
Dene Ward
 

Many years ago we lived in an old frame house in front of a train track, on a corner lot right next to the crossing.  The boys were four and two, and they loved to run outside as soon as they heard the horn so they could wave to the engineer and watch the cars pass—boxcars, flatcars, tankers, and finally the caboose, usually with another trainman standing on its “back porch,” who also received an excited wave.  Before a week had passed, those men were craning their necks, looking for the two towheaded little boys so they could be sure to wave back. We learned the train schedule quickly:  one every morning about 8:30, one every afternoon about 4:00, and one every Saturday about midnight. 
            That first Saturday night train took about ten years off my life.  I came up out of a deep sleep when the horn sounded.  We had only been in the house two days and in the fog of sleep, I did not know where I was or what was happening.  Then I heard that train getting closer and closer, louder and louder.  I realized what it was then, but my perspective was so out of whack that it sounded like the train was headed straight for the middle of the house.  I sat straight up, frozen in terror until it had passed.
            Within two weeks I was sleeping through the din.  Not even the sudden wail of the horn woke me. During the day it took the tug of a little hand on my shirttail for me to hear the train coming so we could go out and wave.  Your mind tunes out what it doesn’t want to hear, and does a grand job of it.
            How many times do we tune out people?  When we learn another’s pet peeves, the things he goes on about at the least provocation, we no longer listen.  If we have the misfortune to deal with someone who nags, we tune that out.  Maybe we should learn the lesson to choose our battles.  If we want what we say to matter to people, don’t go on and on about the trivial or they will have tuned us out long ago and never hear the things they really need to hear.  Parents need to learn that.
            Then there is the matter of tuning out God.  Oh, we all want to hear how Jesus loved the sinners, but let’s not hear His command to, “Go thy way and sin no more.”  Let’s remind ourselves that the apostle Paul was not above preaching to some of the vilest sinners in the known world, fornicators, idolaters, adulterers, effeminate, abusers of themselves with men, thieves, covetous, drunkards, revilers, extortioners.  But let’s ignore the fact that he says they changed:  such were some of you; let’s ignore the fact that he said that in their prior state they were unrighteous and could not inherit the kingdom of God, 1 Cor 6:9-11.  That’s just one of the many things people don’t hear.
            Today, maybe we should ask ourselves what it is we don’t want to hear.  I imagine that it is the very thing we need to hear the most.
 
Why do you not understand my speech?  Because you cannot hear my word. He that is of God hears the words of God: for this cause you hear not, because you are not of God, John 8:43,47.
 
Dene Ward

A few weeks ago I got out a pretty dress, put on my heels, found a pretty pair of sparkly, dangling earrings, and dabbed on some lipstick.  Keith and I went out to celebrate our anniversary.  He trimmed his beard, wore a coat and tie, and polished up his dress shoes.  Do you think either one of us for a moment thought that because we chose to dress up for each other on that evening that we didn’t love each other the other 364 days of the year?  If we had, we would not have been celebrating number 49.
            Our assemblies have gotten more casual in dress as the years have gone by.  I understand that dress has nothing to do with the heart.  Sometimes people clean up the outside when it’s the inside that matters.  I would never judge a person as being less than devoted to the Lord because he wore jeans to the assembly, or because he waited on the Lord’s table without a tie on.  I think most of us have gotten past such superficiality. 
            Recently, though, someone said in my hearing that we needed to realize that we serve God all the time, not just on Sundays and that dressing up on Sundays was a sign of being a “Sunday morning Christian.”  I certainly agree with the first part of that statement, but I think the second half goes too far.
            I still wear a dress to our Sunday morning assemblies because that is what I have done all my life.  I see nothing wrong with dressing up—it’s one of the few chances I get.  It does not mean I don’t love the Lord the rest of the week, any more than dressing up for an anniversary dinner means I don’t love my husband the rest of the year.
            Why is it wrong to judge a person who does not dress up, but perfectly fine to judge a person who does? 
            That is just a small example of a big problem we all have—one way or the other we often do exactly the same things we criticize others for doing.  We may be just as judgmental, just as tactless, just as inconsiderate as others.  We have just wrapped ourselves in such an aura of self-righteousness that we cannot see it in ourselves.  Our vision has been clouded by what we want to see, not what is really there.
            I have developed another eye problem—a growth that is fogging up the vision I still have, and which will gradually worsen unless it is removed.  Unfortunately, because of all the other conditions, the surgery to remove the growth is as dangerous to my vision as allowing the growth to continue on. 
            But there is no argument here: it is far more dangerous to our souls to allow that spiritual haze to grow unabated than to remove it.  Self-righteousness breeds true, and becomes more and more difficult to see in ourselves as the years go on. 
 
Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye, Matt 7:1-5.
 
Dene Ward

I don’t need to tell you the story of the Prodigal, or Wasteful, Son.  I am sure you have heard the lesson so many times you might shut this book if I tried.  All I want you to think about this morning is the point that young man had to reach before he could truly repent.  He had to hit rock bottom.  He had to wake up and find himself completely alone with nothing but the pigs for company and the food he fed them for sustenance. 
            We raised pigs when the boys were still with us.  Every fall we put a new one in the freezer and it kept us well fed for a year.  But after raising them, I can say with authority that it was a brave man who first ate one.  Leaning over to put the feed in the trough and coming face to face with a snorting, muddy, ugly, animal whose head was twice as big as mine, and who nose was always running and caked with a mixture of dirt and feed was nothing short of disgusting.  I never had a bit of trouble come slaughtering day, despite the fact that we named them all—either Hamlet or Baconette, depending upon gender. 
            When we have sinned against God, we need to reach the point that young man did, bending over and finding himself face to face with a filthy, reeking, disgusting animal.  We need to understand how low we have sunk.  For some it may not take as much.  Their “rock bottom” may be a realization that comes from private study and its conviction, or someone’s chance comment in a Bible class that hits the mark.  That may be enough to turn their hearts.  But for the stubborn, the arrogant, and the foolish, it will always take more.  They have to have their noses rubbed in the mud of the sty to realize that they are indeed eating with the pigs.
            But we must not think this is only for those who have “left” and then returned.  This needs to happen every time we sin, not just the “big ones.”  Why do you think those little sins keep plaguing us?  Because we have never seen them as anything but “little.”  We have let our culture and our own pride keep us from comprehending the enormity of sin and what it does to our relationship with our God.  Nothing that caused the death of the Son of God is “little.”  For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, Rom 3:23.  We don’t understand “glory” if we think that even the tiniest amount of sin can stand in its presence.  We have to, in the words of Ezekiel, remember your evil ways and your deeds that were not good, and loathe yourselves for your iniquities and your abominations, 36:31.
            So the next time you pray for forgiveness, ask yourself first if you recognize how far you have fallen; if you understand that any sin is horrible; that even the tiniest sin, as men count them, makes you forever unworthy to stand in the presence of an Almighty God.
            Ask yourself if you realize that you have been eating with the pigs.
 
For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. For see what earnestness this godly grief has produced in you, but also what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what fear, what longing, what zeal, what punishment! At every point you have proved yourselves innocent in the matter, 2 Cor 7:10,11.

Dene Ward

I just returned from a visit with my mother at the Rehab Center.  I took in a plate of my best, ooey-gooey brownies and laid them at the nurses' station for all the people who care for her, even the housekeeping ladies and maintenance guys.  I wrote on the paper plate a big thank you from her family.  Suddenly, my mother was everyone's favorite patient; suddenly everyone wanted to let me know that they took care of "Miss Hilda;" suddenly the glum looks I had received the first time we went in turned into big toothy smiles.
            I learned a long time ago that the better you treat people, the better results you will get, even if it's their job anyway.  If you call waitresses by their names and spend a little time noticing something about them—complimenting a pretty pin or expressing concern about a slight limp—you will get far better service.  If you need to call a company, if you remember the name of the one who answers the phone and use it a few times, then tell them how much you appreciate the help they give you, even if it isn't all that much, the next time you have to call, they will remember and try harder to help you out.  Once you establish that rapport, they will even do their best to help you with a complaint.  Nine times out of ten, the better you treat people, the better they will treat you.
            That should not be the way it is for a Christian.  For a Christian, the worse people treat you, the better you should treat them.  What?!  Why that's just plain un-American, isn't it?  Unfortunately it just might be, but "American" should not be your first descriptor to anyone.  Maybe we should spend a little time on this.
            We run around talking about agape love all the time like we actually know what it means, and then turn around and do the opposite.  Look at Romans 5 and let the Lord show us how we are supposed to love.
            For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. (Rom 5:6-10)
            Did you catch that?  How were we treating God when he sent our Savior?  We were weak, we were sinners, we were his enemies, and still Christ died for us.  If you think that doesn't apply to us, let me remind you:  For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. (1Pet 2:21)
            Still not convinced?  Let's try this:  The fruit of the Spirit includes kindness (Gal 5:22), a word associated with God in such passages as, And has raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus: That in the ages to come he might show the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus. For by grace are you saved through faith… (Eph 2:6-8).  Here Paul makes it plain that the kindness of God is associated with his grace, meaning we did not earn it.  That's the same word as the fruit of the Spirit "kindness."  We are to be kind to others, not because they have been kind to us, but because God has been kind to us.  And that's why we should always treat others better than they deserve. 
            And that puts me in mind of this:  ​For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. (Matt 7:2)  If ever there was a time you don't want to get what you give, I think it might be this one.
 
Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. (Col 3:12-13)
 
Dene Ward        

Once there were two young brothers.  The older was a young teenager, and the younger an early middle schooler.  Not long before, they had been playmates, but the older brother had that usual growth spurt that boys do and suddenly he was a foot taller and his voice an octave lower than his little brother's.  Even his thinking had begun to change so that when he led a prayer, he prayed part as a little boy with little boy wishes and part as a young man in whom was dawning the greater complexities and spirituality of life.
            One day when their grandmother was visiting, they decided to "play golf," which turned out to be their own made-up game with made-up rules because, let's face it, you can't hit a long, hard drive in your backyard without endangering your neighbor's abode.  Grandma was the scorekeeper, and she wondered how this would work at all with big brother suddenly so much bigger, stronger, and more adept as a budding young golfer.  It worked just fine.
            Whenever little brother hit it "in the rough," big brother told him, "Go ahead and toss it out into the short grass.  We won't count that stroke."  And so little brother, while remaining behind in the scoring, was not so far behind that it discouraged him.  Then big brother made a few excellent shots and found himself five or six points ahead (which is actually lower, you know) than his little brother.  Suddenly, big brother was not playing quite as carefully, though not very noticeably so, and little brother caught up and made it a tie.  The game went into "Sudden Death," as the brothers called it.  Eventually, big brother won by 1.  He was satisfied with his win and little brother was more than pleased with his showing and not a bit disappointed.  After all, he had expected to lose to someone bigger, stronger, and more adept at golf.
            But he never really noticed what his brother had done for him, and big brother kept it that way.  No rubbing little brother's nose in his inability.  No bragging about how much better he was.  No taking this great opportunity to rout the weaker brother and enjoy stomping him in the dust.  Just a quiet, humble way of serving his brother that encouraged and motivated him to try even harder.
            And I am one proud Grandma.
 
We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, “The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me” Rom 15:1-3).
 
Dene Ward

I suppose it has not escaped your notice that I do not write what I call, “Feel Good Fluff.”  I do my best writing when I am scolding myself, and unfortunately, that means you get scolded too.
            I am more concerned with becoming a better person than with feeling good.  Maybe that is because I seldom feel good physically any more, so I am not wedded to the idea that I must always be pumped up spiritually in order to become a more spiritual person. 
            I have written a few things that I hope have encouraged you.  I have written a few things that have made some of you cry, good tears, not bad ones.  However, a friend told me once, “I want something that challenges me,” and I found myself agreeing with her, and that is what I have tried to do more than anything else.  If I keep saying that you are just fine the way you are, will you even bother to try to improve yourself? 
            As a result, I have lost readers.  It makes me think of Ahab who described the prophet Micaiah this way, “I hate him because he does not prophesy good concerning me, but evil,” 1 Kgs 22:8, and who once greeted Elijah, “Is it you, you troubler of Israel?”  18:17. Too many folks ignore the fact that they are causing their own problems.  Like Israel of old they want preachers who say, “Peace, peace, when there is no peace,” Jer 6:14.  Like the Galatians’ behavior toward Paul, they make those who simply want to help them wonder, “Have I therefore become your enemy because I tell you the truth?” Gal 4:16.
            Pats on the back are good.  They serve a purpose.  A sermon that makes you shed a tear for the sacrifice that saved you is a helpful thing.  It might just sustain you through a temptation that comes your way soon after.  I think that is one reason we remember that sacrifice every week. 
            But emotion fades.  That pumped-up feeling can deflate quickly when the realities of life puncture your balloon.  You must often sustain yourself with the knowledge that comes from the hard, and often tedious, work of Bible study.  You must have the word of God saturating your mind so much that it bubbles up and out of you just when you need it most.  You must have prayed often enough that a quick one automatically comes to your lips in difficult circumstances.  You must believe because you know logically and with sound evidence that these things are true, not because someone sent you a piece of feel good fluff that won’t stand up to an argument by a knowledgeable minister of Satan.
            Most of all, you must be willing to listen to those who love you and care about your eternal destiny, whether you want to hear what they say or not—and, in fact, whether they have your good will at heart or not.  God has often used the wicked to send his message.
            Don’t be afraid to be challenged.  Don’t be afraid to examine yourself for your faults.  It will work wonders for your soul.
 
Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in the spirit of meekness; considering yourself, lest you also be tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Gal 6:1,2.
 
Dene Ward

On May 10, 1736, Charity Hospital opened in New Orleans.  Jean Louis, a French sailor and shipbuilder, left all his savings, which in that day amounted to about $1600, to build a hospital for the poor and uninsured people of New Orleans.  Located in the French Quarter, other hospitals were added to the conglomerate until by 1939 it was the second largest in the country with 2680 beds.  It was also one of the longest continuously operating hospitals in the United States until it was hit by Hurricane Katrina in 2005. 
            And in case you didn't know, there were no hospitals at all in the entire world until the advent of the Christian Era.  In the last part of the fourth century, Basil of Caesarea founded the first hospital, a Christian hospital.  Monastic orders added hospitals to their monasteries in the fifth and sixth centuries.  Missionaries went on to found the first hospitals in China and Japan in the 1800s.  It was not until the eighteenth century that hospitals began to be secularized.  Say what you will, Christianity brought many good things to a world that was focused on the survival and good of self.  Suddenly, someone else cared about you, even if you were poor or sick.  Try that in a pagan society.
            It has often been said that the church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.  I am not sure we believe that.  I have seen too many unwelcoming saints in my lifetime, those who would limit where they even offer the gospel at all—we want nice, middle class, nuclear families with no big problems.  "They would really help our contribution," I have also heard people comment about certain visitors.  If that isn't a mercenary motive for spreading the gospel, I don't know the meaning of the word.  But what did Jesus say to the people of his own era with the same attitudes?  …Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners (Mark 2:17).
            And then we have our own problems that need some spiritual hospitalization, the ones we don't want to admit.  Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed… (Jas 5:16).  Have you ever attended an assembly that actually does this?  Not unless someone "goes forward," you haven't.  And why?  We're too proud for one thing, and we are also too scared—someone might run with our confession and use it against us.  "Did you know that so-and-so has this problem?"  And so we do not get the benefit of this humbling and also encouraging command—humbling to have to admit you are not perfect, and encouraging to see that others have the same issues and learn how they deal with them. 
            A spiritual hospital is for the sinner, the spiritually sick, the one who has to fight sin and temptation the way others fight infection and disease.  And as long as we refuse to admit it, we will never get the medicine we need, for we are indeed the needy.
 
Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance (Luke 15:7).                         
 
Dene Ward