For probably the first ten years of my life we had a holiday ritual.  We spent every Christmas Eve with my daddy's parents and we had Christmas Dinner at my maternal grandmother's house with all her children, their spouses, and grandchildren.  Altogether there were about 20 of us in a small frame house, which might have been 800 square feet at most.  I still remember my grandmother's cornbread dressing which, despite her giving me her "recipe" of "this and that and a little more of the other if that looks like this," I have never been able to duplicate.  Like my mother I finally came up with my own and have stuck with it.  Then there was her banana pudding—vanilla wafers, very ripe bananas, a real egg custard, and meringue on top, usually still warm.
            The adults at this huge feast of a meal always sat in the dining room.  The babies still in high chairs sat next to the parents at the dining table.  The rest of us kids stood by as our mothers fixed us a plate and then set us up at "The Kids' Table," a small table in the kitchen.  Seems like we seldom talked much, and we certainly didn't play around much—both the table and the kitchen were too small for rambunctiousness if we wanted to stay out of trouble.  We usually sat there and listened to the grown-ups talking and laughing in the next room as we ate.  Sometimes we watched the backyard through the screen door right by the table, and always a cool December breeze blew in and chilled us and our food a little too quickly.  But a kitchen in Central Florida, even in December, needed an open door or a tiny house with twenty people in it would have been far too warm.  Some of the kids actually got up as soon as they could to go sit on the front porch and swing or play on the gray-painted planks, missing dessert entirely, but I have never skipped dessert in my life, if it was available.
            We moved away when I was nine and after a couple of years traveling the long road back from Tampa to Orlando, we began keeping our own holiday traditions and meal at our house.  Once in a while we returned for some special year, like the year Keith was introduced to the family.  By then, the kids' table had added the front porch as its adjunct for the teenagers.  Not many were still small enough for that tiny kitchen, and we could all fill our own plates.  We were responsible for what we ate, how much, and when.
            If you called the church a holiday celebration, who would be sitting in the dining room and who would be sitting at the Kids' Table?  Paul seemed to think the Corinthians might be in the kitchen or perhaps in the high chairs with the babies.  But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it. And even now you are not yet ready (1Cor 3:1-2).  If you keep reading, their problems were jealousy, strife, and divisions which manifested themselves in a host of ways, as the remainder of the book shows. 
            But that isn't the only way we act like children.  …So that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes (Eph 4:14).  Once again if you read the surrounding verses you find issues with unity and love as well as their lack of a foundation in the Word, which is why those gifts were given—apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers to provide them that foundation.
            And of course, the classic passage:  For when by reason of the time ye ought to be teachers, you have need again that someone teach you the rudiments of the first principles of the oracles of God; and are become such as have need of milk, and not of solid food. For every one that partakes of milk is without experience of the word of righteousness; for he is a baby (Heb 5:12-13).
            If I wanted to make just one application from these passages and the metaphor I began with, it might be this:  The children had to have their plates dipped out by their mothers.  They not only couldn't reach across the big dining table, they did not know how to put a balanced meal on their plates.  I remember thinking that Nannie's dressing and banana pudding would make one fine meal, thank you very much, but for some reason I also ended up with green beans and collard greens, too.  How are we doing at dishing up our spiritual plates?  Do we only eat what the elders' choose to dish out in the Bible classes of our assembly, picking at it like it was collard greens, or do we study on our own, making the time to dig deeply into the Word as if it really meant something to us?  Do we ever attend the extra studies offered, or even go to a more-studied brother and ask to study with him?  Do we have to be force-fed the Bread of Life?
           We kids always felt a little resentment at being at the Kids' Table, waiting very impatiently until we were grown-up enough to move to the porch at least, if not the dining table.  How about us?  Are we ready to grow up and move on, or are we perfectly happy being spoon-fed?
 
But solid food is for fullgrown men, even those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern good and evil (Heb 5:14).
 
Dene Ward

I am a crossword puzzle enthusiast—a cruciverbalist, but that is not the extent of the word games I enjoy.  One of my favorites involves making as many words as possible out of one larger word—not anagrams exactly, which use every letter of the word and are small in number, but using the letters of the word only as many times as the original word uses them and making as many other words as possible, three letters or larger, not counting plurals, past tense, or other obvious derivatives. 

            For example, how many other words can you make out of the word “jealousy?”  Sea, use, you, soul, say, aloes, lose, louse, yea, seal, joules, lea, sole, jay, lay, say, soy—and that’s just off the top of my head typing as fast as I can.  But how about this one—joy?  Seems a little ironic, doesn’t it, that you can make joy out of jealousy?

            A lot of people get those two mixed up.  In times where we should be “rejoicing with those who rejoice,” we find ourselves feeling just a tinge of jealousy.  Why did he get that promotion and not me?  Why is she being lauded from the pulpit and not me?  Why do people run to them for advice when I am just as smart/experienced/knowledgeable/ wise, etc.?  And that green-eyed monster gradually takes over, turning us into its willing minion.  We can easily think of reasons that other person does not deserve this and spread it to whomever will listen, causing us to ignore our own blessings, steeping ourselves in ingratitude that gradually becomes bitterness, not just against the other person, but at life in general. 

            Elizabeth is the best example I know of someone who got it right.  She took what could have been a cause for jealousy and changed it into a cause for joy.

            Zacharias and Elizabeth had made it to old age without having children.  According to Lenski, Elizabeth was probably looked down on as someone who had somehow displeased God—that was the general attitude toward barren women.  Finally, after years of waiting, probably with a multitude of prayers, Zacharias came home with the good news—albeit written down, since he could no longer speak:  “We are going to be parents!”  And not only that, but this child will be special—he will be the promised Elijah spoken of in Malachi.

            Then lo and behold, six months later, along comes her teenage cousin with even better news.  She too, is pregnant, and is blessed to bear the Messiah.  What?!  Elizabeth has been waiting for decades.  She is older and wiser.  She has been the faithful wife of a priest, and borne the ridicule of an ignorant culture, blaming her for her own misfortune.  And she gets the Forerunner while this child who has scarcely lived long enough to even be considered faithful, who is fertile (in this culture the family would know her menstrual history) and will probably (and ultimately did) bear more than half a dozen children, this girl gets the Messiah?  How fair is that?

            But Elizabeth had the grateful attitude and the abiding Messianic hope of a faithful child of God.  In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, and she entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? Luke 1:39-43.

            Not only is she excited for Mary, she humbles herself before a younger woman, one with far less experience and far less service on her record—she simply hadn’t lived long enough to do much yet.  And her joy?  It was not a feigned, polite joy, but a joy so overwhelming that “the babe leaped in her womb for joy” v 44.  I am told that “leap for joy” is one Greek word, the same one used in verse 40, quoted earlier.  It is a sympathetic joy.  In other words, Elizabeth was so moved with joy that it caused her unborn child to move within her.  Every mother understands how her own emotions can affect her unborn baby, in the last trimester especially.  Elizabeth’s joy for her young cousin was that deep and moving.  Jealousy never entered her heart for a second.

            How does that match with statements like, “He gets to lead singing more than my husband;” “My husband hasn’t been asked to teach in a long time;” “How can he be an elder when my husband is just as good as he is and no one has asked him.” 

            Oh yes, it happens.  And it should not.  If we are all members of the same body, then if one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. 1Cor 12:26. 

            Love “envies not” 1 Cor 13:4.  When you do envy, you do not love as you are commanded to.  Jealousy and envy are works of the flesh (Gal 5:20,21).  Those who practice them “will not inherit the kingdom of God.”  Check yourself on this.  Has your speech given you away?

            Too many of us get this backwards.  We rejoice when bad things happen to others and weep when good things happen to them.  What about you?
 
If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another. Gal 5:25-26
 
Dene Ward

Sometimes the people who become involved in prison ministries are too idealistic.  They wind up being taken advantage of by the very people they are trying to save, usually because those people see that idealism and know exactly how to exploit it.  Either those idealists become disenchanted and leave the field entirely, or they learn a little pragmatism—they become adept at recognizing the signs and usually avoid being manipulated.  Keith has been working with convicted felons for a long time, so he knows exactly how to deal with them.  First as a probation officer, then a classifications officer, and now as a volunteer Bible class teacher, he has learned to read his audience fairly well.
            “But has all this work ever resulted in anything good?” someone asked once.
            Well, besides the lives that he has influenced for the better, the young men who have learned a little self-discipline and gotten good jobs and become good citizens—and there were a few—besides that, many have become Christians and useful members of the Lord's body.  You should see the surprised looks when I mention that.
            And here is the thing that might surprise you more.  The larger problem when this happens is wondering how the brethren will receive such a one.  In one place we lived, the church found out we might possibly have a newly released, and newly baptized, ex-convict among us and they were not happy at all.  We heard comments ranging from, “I won’t ever allow myself to be alone with him,” to, “I don’t want him around my children.”
            Reminds me a little of Acts 9:26:  And when he was come to Jerusalem, he assayed to join himself to the disciples: and they were all afraid of him, not believing that he was a disciple.  Yes, a murderer had come into their midst and they didn’t want to have anything to do with him.  In fact, this man had seen to the deaths of their very own friends and relatives.  Their fear and loathing sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?
            But not to Barnabas.  He took that man around and assured everyone that he had changed.  Did he know him better than they?  Not that I can tell from any reading I’ve ever found.  He did not know Saul of Tarsus from Levi of Persepolis.  What he did know was his Savior and the power of his gospel.  For I am not ashamed of the gospel: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believes… Rom 1:16.
            And the more our culture becomes like the culture of that time, the more likely that we will not be dealing with upstanding middle class nuclear families when we evangelize, but with people who come to us with immoral backgrounds, with addictions, and with criminal records.  Or know you not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with men, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you… 1Cor 6:9-11.
            And it will be up to us to show them that we truly believe the rest of that citation:  but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Spirit of our God. 
            We talk a good fight when we talk about “God saving me, the sinner,” and how we don’t deserve our salvation and need the grace of God, “just like everyone else.”  But too often there is an exception clause in our thinking.  The Lord has made it perfectly clear through his brother James, murder equals adultery equals prejudice (James 2:8-11).  The same law says they are all sin.  None of us will be a step ahead of our brothers with convictions on their records when we stand before God.  We have all been washed, sanctified and justified, and we will all be judged “as we judge others.”
 
For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment. Jas 2:13
 
Dene Ward
           

While my students did win solo awards in piano solo, art song, and musical theater, our specialty seemed to be piano ensembles.  The point of an ensemble is not just to play the right notes at the right time, but to make a piano duet sound like one person with four hands and a trio like one person with six.  Not an easy thing to do when one partner plays with a heavy hand and the other with light finger work, one with the ebb and flow of rubato and the other the steadiness of a machine.
            My teacher friends laughed at me when they saw all my students make a point to approach the piano together, sit at the same time, put their hands on and off the keys at the same time, then stand together and leave together.  I guess they never thought about whose students were bringing back trophies and whose weren’t.  The point of all that togetherness was to infuse oneness into them.  Your performance starts from the moment your names are called; that single four- or six-handed creature acted as one from then till they hit their seats in the audience afterward.
            The performance aspects were trickier.  Who has the melody?  Does the partner have a counter-melody or an oom-pah-pah chordal accompaniment?  Does the partner enter with the same melody a few bars later?  How can the one with the steady underlying rhythm make it stable enough to help the syncopated partner, without overpowering him?  Are the dynamics terraced or interlaced?  How each partner plays his part depends upon the answer to all those questions.  What a lot to remember and listen for. 
            I had one duo that excelled at all of this.  They played together for ten years and by the time the older graduated from high school, I was positive they were even breathing in sync while they performed.  They played pieces where one partner got up, walked around the piano and sat down to play again; then later in the piece got up and went back to his original position, all without stopping, without errors, and without one of them falling off the bench!  They played pieces where the one higher on the keyboard picked up his hand and put it between the other’s two hands and then continued playing, without a hitch.  If you were not watching, you would not know anything had happened.  Once they played a piece where one’s left hand was on the black keys above the other’s right hand on the white keys, and they never once got in each other’s way.  Now that’s teamwork.  (Did I mention that Nathan was one of the partners?)
            Perfecting the piece was not enough for them.  They even created entrances, with both walking down opposite aisles exactly together and approaching the judges’ bench with a flourish precisely at the same time in the middle of the front row.  At the end of the piece they each crossed the outside hand to bounce off the last note with the inside hand, and held their hands up for exactly the same three count—nonverbally.  They simply knew each other that well.
             And I remember my baby duet.  A little stepbrother and -sister act in the Primary 1 category performing “O Susanna.”  When one had the melody the other played softer; when the other came in with the melody, the first one pulled her tone way down almost instinctively, and then back up again when it was her turn.  These were 8 year olds, mind you, and it was flawless, seamless, and so amazing the judges looked at each other as soon as it happened.  I knew then we had it, and sure enough, we did.
            That is what teamwork is all about.  You know that old coach’s saying, “There is no I in team?”  Unfortunately, many people still manage to spell “me,” and the team is never as unified as it could be.  Teamwork means doing what is best for the group.  It means constantly putting someone else ahead of me.  It means making an objective judgment of what is most important at a given time and not forcing my issues to the forefront if they are less critical than another’s.  It means not complaining if I don’t have the lead and trying to horn my way in anyway.  It means not whining when I don’t get the praise I think I deserve.  If one of my students had said, “I don’t care if I don’t have the melody.  I am just as important as her, so I’m playing my chords just as loudly,” they would have never won anything.  In fact, they would never have gotten a superior at the district level and not made it to the state competition.  What’s best for me will very often ruin it for everyone else.  And we all need to have that feeling.   If we do, no one feels left out or unappreciated. 
            Why is it that we cannot see these things when we are the ones involved?  Are we really so dense?  Is it pride?  Is it arrogance?  Is it our rights-oriented society?  Whatever it is, we need to get over it, so the church can once again make known the manifold wisdom of God, Eph 3:10, and we, through our unity, can cause the world to believe, John 17:21.
 
Doing nothing through faction or through vainglory, but in lowliness of mind, each counting other better than himself, not looking each of you to his own things, but each of you also to the things of others.  Phil 2:3,4          
 
Dene Ward
 

I ran a piano and voice studio off and on—between babies and moves—for 37 years, the last 23 in a row in one place with no “offs.”  I entered my students into several evaluations and competitions a year.  About 20 years ago, I discovered a state competition for students who made “superior” ratings at the district level.  I asked around and two well-meaning teachers told me that I needn’t bother taking my students because no one from Union County could possibly win.  Winners usually came from the Miami area, students of retired concert artists, students with a concert career in mind, willing to practice for several hours a day.
            Always looking for motivation, at my next student meeting I told them about the competition and passed along the opinions, “Your students can’t possibly win.”  Their reaction began with head-shaking confusion followed by red-faced indignation, and finally, steely-eyed determination.  From that point on they had a mission.
            Unfortunately, our first trip proved my friends correct.  We won absolutely nothing.  Besides the disadvantages I mentioned before, the groups we competed in were sometimes as large as 80 with only one winner and three or four honorable mentions chosen from “superior” rated students all across the state.  But they did not give up—they learned to do better.   
              And sure enough, the next year we had a winner.  Every year after that we brought home at least one winner, and one year we outdid every other group in the state:  nine students with performance wins (one of whom was my son Nathan), three state officers elected, including state vice-president and president (Nathan), and a $200 summer music camp scholarship winner (did I mention that Nathan won that?). 
             How did they manage this?  Things that had never made any difference to them at all suddenly became important.  We taped their performances at lessons and they would sit and pick themselves apart—I seldom said a word.  All of a sudden they could hear that their tempo was not steady, that their melody got lost in the underlying harmonies, that their dynamic shading was practically nonexistent; that their vocal placement was wrong, that their diphthongs were too wide, that their tone was unsupported. 
             Most importantly I think, this group became a team.  Several times during the year the students listened to one another and gave critiques.  The ones performing did not let their pride get in the way because someone was telling them they were not perfect—they were anxious to hear how to do better, and after the taping exercise, realized that we do not all see (or hear) ourselves correctly.  And it worked.  They began to win.  And success breeds success.
            They even came up with their own uniforms—black pants or skirt, white shirt, and Looney Tunes tie.  This little outfit started with just one duet team and gradually spread.  It finally got to the point where new students were asking me when they got their “uniforms.”  And whenever a child was without something—especially the tie, which some had trouble finding--there would be the “passing of the ties” between rooms and events as they raced to perform, so that no one would be without.  It was amazing to me to see this happen among children, with no prompting whatsoever. The last few years as I sat in the audience, I heard other parents and teachers around me saying, “Uh-oh.  They’re from the group with the ties,” as one of my ensembles approached the piano.  Even the ones who never won anything viewed the “outfit” as a badge of honor.  It meant they belonged to a group who did win, and that meant they won, too.
            Do I really need to make an application here?  What if the church acted like this group of children?    What if we all had the attitude, “Please tell me how to do better?”  “Please tell me exactly what I’m doing wrong.”  What if we all “rejoiced with those who rejoiced” instead of becoming envious?  What if we all viewed being a part of the Lord’s body as an honor?  What if we all looked Satan right in the face and said, “I can too do it!”  And then did.
 
There should be no schism in the body; but the members should have the same care one for another.  And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; or if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.  Now YOU are the body of Christ and each is a member of it.  1 Cor 12:25-27
 
Dene Ward

Part 4 of a continuing series by guest writer Lucas Ward.
 
1 Peter 4:7-10  "The end of all things is at hand; therefore be self-controlled and sober-minded for the sake of your prayers.   Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.  Show hospitality to one another without grumbling.  As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace."
 
            Again, note the urgency.  The end is at hand so we should do these things.  Love is described two ways: as hospitality and as something that covers sins.  Last time we looked at hospitality, so let's look at what it means to cover a multitude of sins.
            First, it is not referring to covering up sins against God.  Everything in the Bible teaches against that.  Paul declares that the impenitent sinner is to be expelled from the church (1 Cor. 5:1-8).  Clearly that is confronting sin, not covering it up.  Jesus' letter to the church in Thyatira in Rev. 2:20 mentions that the only thing He had against that church was that they tolerated a false teacher.  Obviously He had expected them to confront that sinner.  Instead of covering sins up, we are encouraged to make great efforts to bring the sinner to repentance.  Galatians 6:1 tells us to go to the sinner, 2 Thess. 3:15 tells us to admonish the sinner and James 5:19-20 speaks of converting the sinner.  None of this is covering sin.
            So, what does it mean that "love covers a multitude of sins"?  Perhaps we should look at the proverb Peter was quoting:  "Hatred stirs up strifes but love covers all transgressions" (Prov. 10:12).  From this we see that while hatred is looking for ways to cause problems, love is looking to build the relationship; to build trust.  Love overlooks, or covers, all the transgressions of the loved one against the lover.  In other words, the sins covered by love are the offenses or transgressions my brethren perpetrate against me.  If someone is rude to me it may not be sin in the evil-against-God sense, but I have still been offended.  To transgress is to cross a line, which is instructive.  If I love people, then when they cross a line with me, I overlook it. 
            Of course, sometimes the transgression is serious and needs to be addressed.  Jesus gives us the method to do this in Matt. 18:15-17: "And if thy brother sin against thee, go, show him his fault between thee and him alone: if he hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother.  But if he hear thee not, take with thee one or two more, that at the mouth of two witnesses or three every word may be established.  And if he refuse to hear them, tell it unto the church: and if he refuse to hear the church also, let him be unto thee as the Gentile and the publican."  These are the rights of the offended brother with the goal always being to regain your brother.  However, notice the seriousness of the consequences.  If your brother is too stubborn to apologize and make things right, he can wind up cut off from the church.  That means there can be eternal consequences for an offense which may not have been evil to begin with.  As the offended party, were you hurt so badly as to chance that outcome, or will you allow your love for your brother to cover the transgressions?   Paul teaches us that in order to keep the peace within the church we ought to be willing to be wronged, to let love cover those wrongs:  "Nay, already it is altogether a defect in you, that ye have lawsuits one with another. Why not rather take wrong? why not rather be defrauded?" (1 Cor. 6:7) 
            Love covering a multitude of sins means forgiveness.  We aren't keeping track of the transgressions to make use of later.  Love "takes no account of evil" (1 Cor. 13:5).  That phrase is actually the exact phrase used by first century Greeks to mean bookkeeping as in business.  We forgive.  We don't store up, but forgiveness must be genuine.  If I forgive, but then refuse to speak to the offender I haven't really forgiven.  If I forgive, but speak ill of or make sure to sit on the opposite side of the building or refuse all requests from, that isn't forgiveness.  In those cases I'm not covering sins but quietly hoarding injustices to myself.  If we can, we should always choose to overlook insults, but if the offense is too bad to cover, then we must use the steps Jesus gives in Matt. 18.  These are the only two options given for Christians by God. Quietly stewing isn't an option. 
             "Love suffers long".  Most offenses we deal with from our brethren are actually quite minor in reality but very annoying personally.  If I love that brother, I put up with it.  Maybe I address it, maybe not, but either way I love my brother.  And remember, love "believes all things and hopes all things."  I'm not going to assume my brother is out to get me, but rather is just innocently annoying. 
             Finally, allow me to let you in on a secret:  we are all annoying.  None of us is perfect in everything.  YOU annoy someone greatly.  God loves us despite our annoying tendencies and teaches us to love in the same way.  One day the annoyances will be gone forever while "love never ends" (1 Cor. 13:8).
 
Lucas Ward

His name was Joseph.  He came from an island off the coast, but had family in the city, and had come to worship at the two feast days, probably staying with his close relative Mary.  While he was there he saw and heard amazing things:  people speaking languages they had never studied, something that looked like fire but wasn’t, something that sounded like a windstorm but wasn’t, and a sermon that both astonished and convicted him.  He wound up staying in town, along with several thousand others who had become part of God’s new kingdom, the one they had been waiting for so long. 
            Despite their previous plans, they all chose to stay so they could learn, so they could grow, so they could mature before they went off on their own to spread the word in a world of sin, a world, they were told, that would reject them more often than accept them.  It wasn’t long till the practical needs of several thousand homeless people with no income could no longer be ignored. 
            Those who lived in the city helped as much as they could.  They took people in and collected funds to buy extra food and clothing.  Men were chosen to see to these needs.  Joseph helped as well, selling off extra property he owned, and donating the full amount to the group. 
            But that was not all he did.  Here was a man who excelled at encouragement, consolation, exhortation.  He was the first to give a pat on the back when it was needed, a hug, a kind word, a stern word, a teaching word, a “rah-rah” from the sidelines, a second chance to those whom others had given up on.  In fact, he became so good at it that the apostles gave him the nickname, “son of encouragement/consolation/exhortation,” whatever your version says in Acts 4:36.  And forever more in the scriptures, that is how we know him—Barnabas.  Did you even know that was not his real name?
            Whenever I think of that man, I wonder what nickname the apostles would give me?  Whiny Winnie?  Gossip Gail?  My-Way Marian?  Grumpy Gert?  Cold-hearted Catherine?  Hotheaded Harriet?   Wondering about that will give your character a real shot in the arm.  I’d much rather have something like Generous Joyce or Compassionate Kate. 
            Your assignment for today?  Try to figure out what they would call you.  Be honest.  You can always change that name, just by changing yourself.


A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold,  Prov 22:1.



Dene Ward

If there is one thing I have never understood about grudge-holders, it is how they can think they have a monopoly on being hurt or injured.  These are the folks that, though they profess forgiveness, and years later are acting kindly toward their victims—at least in public--can at a moment’s notice give a laundry list of every bad deed that person has done to them.  And they will, any time you want to hear it.  In fact, they will happily do so before you even ask. 
         But somehow they think they are perfect.  They have never done anything hurtful to anyone, and would be horrified if you started making your own laundry list against them!  They must think that, or surely they would be more merciful, wouldn’t they?
            You see, grudge-holding is the worst kind of self-centeredness.  It says, “My hurts count more than yours.”  It infers, “I have never done anything as bad as this to you.”  And then it rationalizes, “What you did to me is so bad, it does not have to be forgiven.”
            If you said that to a grudge-holder, he would be horrified, especially if he claimed to be a Christian.  Unfortunately, that is another aspect of this sin—it keeps you from seeing yourself as you really are.  We become so blinded by our “injured innocence” that we cannot see the truth--no one is innocent; we all mess up once in awhile.  It is bad when this sort of selfishness causes animosity between neighbors, sad when it causes rifts in families, and tragic when it causes a lack of unity in the family of God. 
            Jesus said I cannot be forgiven if I don’t forgive.  Forgiveness means I don’t spread it around, I don’t let fester in my mind, I don’t bring it up again at any opportunity, ever.  Forgiveness means I understand that I have done my fair share of hurts to others, whether intentional or not, and since I hope they will not hold them against me, I certainly won’t hold things against them.  That is exactly what Peter meant when he said, Love covers a multitude of sins, 1 Peter 4:8.  I think Peter uses that word “sin” in an ironic way.  We cannot cover real sins against God, and are not supposed to, but in our self-centeredness, we place what amounts to minimal slights in the same category as real sin.  And Peter also makes it plain that no matter what I say about the matter, if I do not forgive and I show that lack of mercy by my constant grudge-holding, I do not love.
Forgiveness means having enough humility to recognize that no one has done to me anything remotely similar to what I have done to the Lord.  Holding grudges means the opposite—I have made my feelings just as important as Christ’s, therefore I am just as important as He is—just as important as God. 
            Didn’t they used to stone people for that?


(The money figures in the following passage come from Lenski’s commentary on Matthew.  Any math errors are mine.)
Therefore is the kingdom of heaven like a certain king who made a reckoning of his servants…One was brought to him that owed him [about 60,000,000 days’ pay]....The servant therefore fell down and said, Lord have patience with me and I will pay all.  And the lord of that servant, being moved with compassion, released him and forgave him the debt.  But the servant went out and found one of his fellow servants who owed him [about 100 days’ pay]...and said, Pay what you owe…Then the Lord called unto him and said, You wicked servant, I forgave you all your debt…Should you not have had mercy on your fellow servant as I had mercy on you?  And the lord was wroth and delivered him to the tormentors…So shall also my heavenly Father do unto you if you forgive not your brother from the heart.  Matt 18:21-35

 
Dene Ward