Economics was not my favorite subject in school.  Too much of it sounded like gobbledy-gook and the “rules” seldom seemed as logical to me as they did to the teacher—they were far too complicated.  One principle I did understand, though, perhaps because it was played out right in front of me in the early 1970s. 

            After working the whole summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college, I managed to buy my first car, a ’67 Mustang.  I commuted to Florida College and, in those days, a music major had to take 21-24 hours a semester just to get all the requirements in, plus stay for extra rehearsals.  I was on campus from 7:30 am till about 9 pm nearly every day.  Then I went home, grabbed a bite of leftovers, fell asleep across my homework about 2 am, got up at 6 and started again.

         That was the year of “the gas shortage.”  Many stations closed completely.  Others opened for only three or four hours a day—till the gas ran out.  Sometimes purchases were limited to five gallons per vehicle so that more customers could be served.

            We patronized one particular station in Temple Terrace.  One evening every week, the proprietor called us and his other regular customers.  Early the next morning, while it was still dark, we all lined up our cars behind the station so we wouldn’t attract attention, and he filled us all up, the station sign remaining dark and the office and service bays unlit.

            Eventually even that ran out.  Everyone in town was on the look-out and word passed quickly when a station opened, an attendant setting out the sandwich board sign, “Gas Today.”  In particular I remember sitting in my little blue Mustang with the red painted wheel wells in a long snaky line that reached from the station on the corner out to the southeast shoulder of 56th Street at Fowler Avenue, all of us hoping we would reach the pump before the owner turned the sign around to read, “Out of gas.”

            The supply was small, but the demand was just as great as ever, so I am sure you know what happened.  The price jumped from thirty-five to sixty-five cents a gallon.  In those days, minimum wage was $2.00 an hour, $12,000 a year was a good salary, and $25 bought a week’s groceries, so a tank of gas jumping from three or four dollars to nine or ten was a hardship.

            The rules of economics say that when the supply is small and the demand great, the price will rise.  On the other hand, when the supply is great and the demand small, the price will drop like a rock.  Things don’t work that way with grace. 

            Some of the early Christians, understanding how wonderful grace was, had the mistaken notion that since grace covered sin, they should sin more so there would be more grace.  Paul answers this error in Romans 6:1,2.  What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound?  God forbid. We who died to sin, how shall we any longer live therein? He then goes on to explain that baptism into the death of Christ requires a death to sin on our part.  We should be living like baptized people, like people who are “no longer in bondage to sin,” v 6. 

           After a long discussion he starts talking about the price of that grace, a point he had begun in chapter five, and do you know what?  The price of grace to us has nothing to do with how much we need it or how much we sin.  The price of grace does not fluctuate like the price of gasoline.  No matter how much you need it, there is always plenty.  No matter how much you need it, it is always free.  We will never have to sit in line hoping we make it to the front before it runs out, and we will never be too poor to receive it.  The laws of supply and demand have absolutely nothing to do with grace, and aren’t we glad?
 
But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if many died through one man's trespass, much more have the grace of God and the free gift by the grace of that one man Jesus Christ abounded for many. And the free gift is not like the result of that one man's sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brought justification. For if, because of one man's trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ, Rom 5:15-17.
 
Dene Ward

My sister and I stood near the end of the long pier that jutted into the Gulf, a steady breeze blowing our hair across our faces, the hot sun pounding our shoulders as only a Florida sun can.  The planks beneath our sandaled feet were thick and gray, old enough to have splintered on the surface here and there but still solid, only a faint vibration when anyone walked past us.  The waves rolled in, small and steady, splashing the pilings beneath us and sprinkling us with salt spray.
            We had cane poles that day, no fancy rods and reels—just throw it in the water and pull it up when the fish bites.  And all of a sudden one did.  At 11 and with very little experience in the sport, it felt like a monster and I am sure I must have squealed.  Suddenly I was surrounded and a hand helped me pull the thing up.
            “What is that!?” I asked no one in particular.  It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen, about 5 pounds worth of ugly.
            A man I didn’t know laughed.  “It’s a cowfish,” he said, but actually the profile looked more like a pig’s than a cow’s to me.  He advised me to throw it back and I did—the only fish I ever caught.
            Fishing is a common theme in the Bible—and I bet you’re thinking of the gospels.  But Amos, Jeremiah, Habakkuk all used that metaphor too.
            ​The Lord GOD has sworn by his holiness that, behold, the days are coming upon you, when they shall take you away with hooks, even the last of you with fishhooks. Amos 4:2
            “Behold, I am sending for many fishers, declares the LORD, and they shall catch them. And afterward I will send for many hunters, and they shall hunt them from every mountain and every hill, and out of the clefts of the rocks. Jer 16:16
            You make mankind like the fish of the sea, like crawling things that have no ruler. ​He brings all of them up with a hook; he drags them out with his net; he gathers them in his dragnet; so he rejoices and is glad. ​Therefore he sacrifices to his net and makes offerings to his dragnet; for by them he lives in luxury, and his food is rich. Is he then to keep on emptying his net and mercilessly killing nations forever? Hab 1:14-17
            The prophets use the metaphor of God’s people being caught by a net or hook and carried into exile.  It was a fearsome image, one far removed from the picture we might have of a quiet man meditatively casting his line into a babbling brook. It takes Jesus to turn that scary prophetic metaphor on its ear.  Yes, we are “fishers of men,” but whereas the Assyrians and Babylonians made captives of those they caught, Jesus sets us free.
            For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. Rom 8:2.  Free from the law, free from sin, free from the lusts of the flesh, free from death.  How could we be any freer?
            And it doesn’t really matter to him how ugly a fish we are.  Unless we struggle in his hands, he won’t throw us back. 
 
So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed him, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” John 8:31-32
 
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

It’s been over a week now and there hasn’t been a mouse in my house.  If the supply is endless, at least it is experiencing a lull at the moment.  But it’s only a matter of time…

            …which itself is not endless.  God tells us over and over that time will eventually stop.  Eternity will begin and never end, which is a lame definition, because by its very definition eternity neither begins nor ends, so how can you describe it by using words like “endless.”  We will no longer say, “in a minute,” “before long,” or “after a while.”  There will no longer be a “then.”  Everything will be “now”—or will it?  Will that word be irrelevant as well?

            This is getting just a little too deep for me, and maybe that is something I needed.  I have grown impatient with people who make such a big deal out of things that happen in this life, whining and complaining, “Why me?” seeming to forget that we are promised an eternity that will make even the longest ordeal here look less than minuscule.  Even God made a point to remind us over and over about the relative unimportance of physical life compared to an eternal one.  Over fifty times the scriptures use phrases like “eternal life,” “everlasting life,” “life evermore,” and “live forever.”  So it must be easy in the midst of pain, and sorrow, and surrounded by death, to forget.

            Use the help we have been given to remind yourself, especially when things are tough, that eternity is what matters, not what happens in the here and now.  If I could find fifty passages, maybe you can find more—maybe they are nearly endless.

            Just for the sake of having a way to describe it to us temporally bound souls, eternity is not the last “endless supply.”  Another one awaits us, perhaps one even better.  Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to his great mercy begat us again unto a living hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, unto an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fades not away, reserved in heaven for you,  1 Pet 1:3,4.  “Fades not away” refers to the quality of that eternal life.  Unlike this world we find ourselves in now, we will never wish it could end, for the joy of being with the Lord will never run out either.
 
For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory." "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. 1 Cor 15:53-58.
 
Dene Ward

You would think it would go without saying.  You would think that looking around at the world God made would make it obvious.  It is he who made the earth by his power, who established the world by his wisdom, and by his understanding stretched out the heavens. Jer 10:12.  If God can do that, certainly his power is endless.  Nothing is too big for it to handle, and it will never run out.

            So why have I heard on more than one occasion, “I know people who have it worse than I do, so I try not to bother God with my piddling little problems”?  It’s almost like they think they will cause someone else not to get the help they deserve if God helps them too.  It’s almost like they think God’s power could actually run out.  Let’s review a few scriptures.

            O Lord GOD, you have only begun to show your servant your greatness and your mighty hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do such works and mighty acts as yours? Deut 3:24

            I am the Lord!  There is nothing too difficult for me, Gen 18:14.

            Awesome is God from his sanctuary; the God of Israel--he is the one who gives power and strength to his people. Blessed be God! Psa 68:35

            And what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, Eph 1:19,20.

            Did you catch that last one?  “The immeasurable greatness of his power.”  There is another endless supply if ever I heard it.  Later in the same epistle Paul adds, to him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, 3:20.  Sounds like Paul agrees with those messengers who promised Abraham and Sarah a son at their advanced age.  Nothing is too hard for God.

            What was Jesus always telling those apostles when they hit a snag?  “O ye of little faith.”  Maybe that’s our problem too.  By not asking God for the hard things, we aren’t making it easier for Him, we are making it easier for us!  If I don’t get a “No”, I won’t be disappointed and my faith will not be challenged.  I won’t have to deal with finding the lesson I am supposed to learn from having to deal with a trial.  I won’t have to change and grow.  That is what’s too hard, not the thing we ask of God.

            Paul says in 2 Cor 13:4, For he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God. For we also are weak in him, but…we will live with him by the power of God.   The same power that raised Christ from the dead, helps us live a godly life.  If we sin, it is because we are refusing the only power that can make it possible.  It is a choice on our part, not on his.  He is more than happy to help us.  And that leads us right back to our first endless supply—grace.  And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work, 2 Cor 9:8.  The good you can do is endless, but only when you trust that His endless power can supply you with an endless amount of grace to accomplish it.

            You don’t need to make excuses for God.  You don’t need to protect him from a possible failure.  Job said it best, when he recognized that even with all the amazing things in the world that testify to the power of God, we have only seen a tiny bit of what is available.  By his power he churned up the sea…By his breath the skies became fair; his hand pierced the fleeing serpent.  And these are but the outer fringe of his works; how faint the whisper we hear of him.  Who then can understand the thunder of his power? Job 26:12-14.

            God’s power is endless.  It will never run out.  Now go out there and live like you believe it.
 
…that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God, 1 Cor 2:5.
 
Dene Ward

We have never had much trouble before now.  Barn cats do an excellent job.  Even after the second in a row went hunting one evening never to return, we had no trouble because a garter snake moved into the enclosed crawl space under the house.

            For four or five years that snake minded his own business, which was good for us—we seldom had a mouse in the house, in spite of living deep in the piney woods.  Sometimes we’d see him stretched out in the sunny yard, nearly four feet long thanks to his dark pantry beneath our floors, but we would turn and go the other way to keep the dogs off of him until he had returned home.

            One fateful summer day last year, he ventured out while Keith was mowing.  He assumed the snake would turn and slither back into the flower beds as he approached.  Just as he passed by, the frightened reptile turned and darted toward the mower.  Keith groaned aloud as he rode right over him, scattering garter snake to the winds.

            The trouble started in the winter, of course.  I began hearing them gnaw on the bottom of the house.  So Keith crawled into that dark, dusty cavern with packets of poison, a flashlight, and a pistol, in case a less benevolent snake had moved in.  In a couple of days the noises stopped, only to start again three or four days later.  The packets of poison were empty.  More crawling, more packets, and once again quiet reigned in the night.  In about two weeks, we seemed to have the problem licked.

            Two months later, when Keith rose at 4:30 am to get ready for work, he found a mouse sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor.  We set out traps this time, as well as poison.  Sometimes I hear one in the middle of the night crunching the poison pellets.  Then we’ll have two or three nights of quiet before the next one arrives.  You see, where we live there is an endless supply of rodents.  Mice will never make the endangered species list.

            Not all endless supplies are bad though.  The grace of God is a good case in point.  Christ told Paul, “My grace is sufficient” (2 Cor 12:9) to help you handle your problems.  It isn’t that you need to get rid of the problem, he told him; it’s that you need to trust that there is enough grace to help you through it.

            Paul told Timothy that God’s grace was “exceeding abundant,” 1 Tim 1:4.  The root word means “to abound,” a word that brings to my mind that Southern phrase “a gracious plenty.”  Yet in this passage Paul attaches an intensifier, huper (from which we get “hyper”). So it means “to abound exceedingly.”  Not just a lot, but a whole lot of a lot.  You simply can’t need more grace than God has to give, no matter how big a sinner you may think you are, nor how often you sin; no matter how big your problems are.  That means he’ll have enough for your neighbor too—you won’t lose out if you share.  Yes, in this case, an endless supply is a very good thing.
 
But not as the trespass, so also the free gift. For if by the trespass of the one the many died, much more did the grace of God, and the gift by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abound unto the many.  And the law came in besides, that the trespass might abound; but where sin abounded, grace did abound more exceedingly: that, as sin reigned in death, even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Rom 5:15,20,21.
 
Dene Ward

Canning tomatoes is one of the more difficult garden season chores.  You wash each and every tomato.  You scald each and every tomato.  You pound ice blocks till your arms ache in order to shock and cool each and every scalded tomato.  You peel each and every tomato and finally you cut up each and every tomato.  How many?  In the old days about 5 five gallon buckets full, enough to make 40+ quarts.  Then you sterilize jars, pack jars, and process jars.  Only 7 fit in the canner at a time, so you go through that at least 6 times.

            And you will have more failures to seal with canned tomatoes than any other thing you can.  As you pack them in, pushing down to make room, you must be very careful not to let the juice spill over into the threads of the jar.  And just in case you did that heinous crime, you take a damp cloth and wipe each thread of each jar.  Tomato pulp will keep a perfectly good jar, lid, and ring from sealing.

            In order to have that many tomatoes you must be willing to cut up a few that are half-rotten, disposing of the soft, pulpy, stinky parts—and boy howdy, can they stink!—in order to save sometimes just a bite or two of tomato.  Now that there are only two of us, I usually limit myself to 20 + quarts.  I still put one in every pot of spaghetti sauce, one in every pot of chili, and one in every pot of minestrone, as well as a few other recipes, it’s just that I don’t make as many of those things as I did with two boys in the house.  Now I can afford to be a little profligate.  If I pick up a tomato with a large bad spot, I am just as likely to toss the whole thing rather than try to save the bite or two that is good, especially if it is a small tomato to begin with.  Why go to all that work—washing, scalding, shocking, peeling, cutting up, packing—for a mere teaspoon of tomato?

            But isn’t that what God and Jesus did for us?  For narrow is the gate, and straitened the way, that leads unto life, and few are they that find it. Matt 7:14.

            The Son of God, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Phil 2:6-8.  And he did that for a half—no!--for a more than half rotten tomato of a world.  He did that to save a remnant, a mere teaspoon of souls who would care enough to listen and obey the call. 

           Sometimes, by the end of the day, when my arms are aching, my fingers are nicked and the cuts burning from acidic tomato juice, my back and feet are killing me from standing for hours, and I am drenched with sweat from the steamy kitchen, I am ready to toss even the mostly good tomatoes, the ones with only a tiny bad spot, because it means extra work beyond a quick slice or two.  Aren’t you glad God did not feel that way about us?  It wasn’t just a half rotten world he came to save, it was a bunch of half rotten individuals in that world, of which you and I are just a few.
 
But what is God's reply to him? “I have kept for myself seven thousand men who have not bowed the knee to Baal.” So too at the present time there is a remnant, chosen by grace. Rom 11:4-5

Dene Ward

David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the LORD.” And Nathan said to David, “The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die.” 2Sam 12:13.

            I imagine you recognize the above scripture.  David’s statement immediately follows Nathan’s indictment, “Thou art the man.”  But do you know what immediately follows David’s confession?

            Because God through Nathan declares that David’s punishment will be the death of his child, David immediately begins a week long vigil asking God to spare his son.  “Who knows,” he says, “whether the Lord will be gracious to me that the child may live?”

            How many times have you found yourself sorrowing over a sin in your life, even after a heartfelt repentance, but then felt it presumptuous to even ask God for the smallest thing in your prayers that same day?  How many times have you said, “Not now.  I need to show some real fruit of repentance before I ask God for anything at all.”   How many times have you thought, “Surely He won’t listen to me yet?”  Or even worse, “How can God forgive me?”

            David knew better than that.  He not only recognized his sin and his utter unworthiness (Psalms 32 and 51), he recognized the riches of God’s grace.  We may sing about “Amazing Grace,” but David knew about it.  Maybe it takes just as much faith to believe about grace as it does to believe in God.  I know this:  if you deny that God will forgive you and answer your prayers, you may as well deny Him.
 
But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ— by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. Eph 2:4-7
 
Dene Ward

“Do it myself!”  What parent has not heard these words from his toddler with mixed feelings?  Yes, he is learning to do things for himself, all by himself, without my help.  Good for him!  Yes, he is learning to do without me.  Some day he won’t need my help at all.  Some day he will experience his own Independence Day, and we will face it with pride in his accomplishment and tears for our own loss at the same time.

            And don’t we prize that independent feeling ourselves?  I have a good friend who is 93.  She and I have often bemoaned the fact that people no longer seem to understand the word “need.”  What they think they “need” is usually just something they “want.”  It worries us that we are becoming more and more dependent on wealth and the technology it buys.  We have said to one another, if someday there is a great catastrophe, most of the country won’t know how to survive at all.  She has a colorful way of putting it:  “They won’t even know how to go to the bathroom!”

            We have lived in the country for a long time, and I have learned a lot about doing things myself.  I don’t know when was the last time I bought a jar of jelly at the store.  Or pickles.  Or canned tomatoes.  Or salsa.  Or any sort of frozen vegetable at all.  I do it myself.

            For awhile we had chickens.  Until we finally figured out that we were barely breaking even between the cost of feed and the “free” eggs, we gathered jumbos every day, half a dozen or more.  Keith milked a cow, and I often had a sour cream pound cake sitting on the countertop, made with our eggs, our homemade butter, and our homemade sour cream.  I mashed potatoes we grew with our fresh cream and homemade butter.  The ice cream we churned was so rich we often saw flecks of butter in it.   I think maybe we gave up the cow the day we actually started feeling our arteries clog as we looked across the table at one another.

            A lot of people can and freeze vegetables, jams, and pickles, but it always gave me a little extra pride when I made things that most people never even thought about making, like ketchup from the tag ends of the tomato crop, and chili powder from the cayenne peppers I grew and dried.  Lots of folks make applesauce, but not many can their own apple pie filling to use later in the year.  Another friend I have makes her own laundry starch.  If anything dire does happen in the next few years, my two special friends and I promise to share.  I am sure the 93 year old will be happy to tell you how to dig an outhouse.

            But that sort of pride and independence can get in the way of our salvation, can’t it?  There really is nothing we can do to save ourselves.  And we must learn to depend upon God—he demands it.  He is to be the one we trust, the one we rely on, the one we go to for every need we have, even if our definition of need is really “want.” 

            As long as I think I can manufacture my own salvation and experience a spiritual Independence Day, I will never find myself in God’s good graces, or in His grace.  This is one case where self-reliance is disastrous.  This is one case where we celebrate Dependence Day instead.  Have you celebrated yours yet?
 
By grace have you been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, Eph 2:8

Dene Ward

Today’s post is by guest writer Keith Ward.
 
I am not noted for my patience unless you count the fact that bodies are not strewn in my wake through the day. I am no more patient with myself than with others. I have a 3 way plug on the end of the drop cord that comes to the carport from the shed. It runs the blower and, on summer mornings, the 18" fan that cools us and keeps the bugs blown away while we have our third cup of coffee. So, today, I needed it for the blower and instead of unplugging the fan, I unplugged the drop cord from the 3 way--for about the 43rd time in the last month. "YOU WOULD THINK YOU WOULD KNOW BETTER BY NOW!!” I muttered....well, given my hearing and that I had ear-plugs in to preserve some of the remainder of it from the blower, who knows how loud I was. As I plugged it back in and began blowing off the screened porch and carport, I thought that perhaps, just maybe, now and then, God feels that way about me--"He ought to know better than that by now!"
 
I can quote a lot more scripture than I can live: I have known the line, “as we forgive those who trespass against us,” for about 55 years. Yet I pray forgiveness of things I knew better than to do and get impatient with people who merely do irritating things in traffic.

I pray he just plugs me back in and proceeds with whatever chore I am suitable for.

Maybe, I need to remember that with others? I suspect I would have fired a worker who made the same mistake that many times? How about the brethren?
 
Maybe I need to quit praying or get real about being patient?
 
 
​For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, ​but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. Matt 6:14-15
 
 
Keith Ward