My dog hates taking her medicine. Whether it is the monthly squirt of heartworm medication or the monthly application of flea and tick preventive, it takes two of us to do it—one to hold her down and the other to do the dirty work. Not even a treat at the end will dampen her withering glare when it’s over. We have betrayed her and she makes sure we feel her scorn.
Actually, I think that is pretty normal. Which is why, when someone I know has tried to admonish a brother and someone else says, “Now he [the sinner] is upset,” I want to say, “Well, duh.” No one likes to be corrected. I certainly don’t, no matter how hard the other guy tries to be nice about it.
And no one I know likes to be the corrector. In spite of what we may hear about all those “bad attitudes” people supposedly have when they correct others, everyone I know approaches the ordeal with fear. They know they will more than likely lose a friend, be attacked, or wind up with a damaged reputation. Why is it that when a godly person rebukes a sinner and the results are less than optimal, that we automatically believe the sinner’s version of events, rather than the godly person’s? That’s not even logical.
So when it comes to taking spiritual medicine, I need to remember three things:
First, be brave. God says when I see someone in sin and I do not warn them, he will hold me accountable. When I say to the wicked, O wicked man, you shall surely die, and you do not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at your hand. Ezek 33:8. Regardless of the grief it is likely to cause me, God expects me to care enough about a soul to try anyway.
Second, be charitable in my judgment of a corrector. Believe that he did his best, and went with the best attitude. That poor fellow took the risk of a no-win situation because he cared; he deserves my support, not my criticism. Besides, if I thought I could do better, why didn’t I?
And finally, when it comes my turn to take the medicine, swallow my pride along with the pill, no matter how bitter it is, recognizing that someone cared enough about my eternal destiny to try to help me. After all, medicine will make you feel better in the end, won’t it?
Brethren, if a man be overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to yourself, lest you also be tempted. Gal 6:1
Dene Ward
Actually, I think that is pretty normal. Which is why, when someone I know has tried to admonish a brother and someone else says, “Now he [the sinner] is upset,” I want to say, “Well, duh.” No one likes to be corrected. I certainly don’t, no matter how hard the other guy tries to be nice about it.
And no one I know likes to be the corrector. In spite of what we may hear about all those “bad attitudes” people supposedly have when they correct others, everyone I know approaches the ordeal with fear. They know they will more than likely lose a friend, be attacked, or wind up with a damaged reputation. Why is it that when a godly person rebukes a sinner and the results are less than optimal, that we automatically believe the sinner’s version of events, rather than the godly person’s? That’s not even logical.
So when it comes to taking spiritual medicine, I need to remember three things:
First, be brave. God says when I see someone in sin and I do not warn them, he will hold me accountable. When I say to the wicked, O wicked man, you shall surely die, and you do not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at your hand. Ezek 33:8. Regardless of the grief it is likely to cause me, God expects me to care enough about a soul to try anyway.
Second, be charitable in my judgment of a corrector. Believe that he did his best, and went with the best attitude. That poor fellow took the risk of a no-win situation because he cared; he deserves my support, not my criticism. Besides, if I thought I could do better, why didn’t I?
And finally, when it comes my turn to take the medicine, swallow my pride along with the pill, no matter how bitter it is, recognizing that someone cared enough about my eternal destiny to try to help me. After all, medicine will make you feel better in the end, won’t it?
Brethren, if a man be overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to yourself, lest you also be tempted. Gal 6:1
Dene Ward
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