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

I am still walking on that elliptical machine I told you about a few years ago.  With another measureable loss of vision lately, it becomes more and more the only safe way to exercise—you don’t step in any holes or trip over limbs or vines on an elliptical machine
            I stepped off one day a couple of months ago and looked at the read-out.  It informed me that I had “walked” three and a half miles in 30 minutes.
            “Wow,” I thought.  “Not bad.”  And then I thought to myself, “Wait a minute.”  Thirty years ago I only managed five miles in 48 minutes JOGGING.  That’s over nine minutes a mile.  And thirty years later I am supposed to believe I beat that rate WALKING?
            “Hmppph,” I muttered with my new perspective, “If that’s true, I’m a Martian.”
            Looking at myself through the eyes of cold clear logic, I cut the read-out figures almost in half.  Maybe I managed two miles—maybe.  I don’t have much faith in that read-out now.
            But—can I be just as clear-headed when I examine my heart?  Can I see with cool logic that my words and thoughts give me away?  For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, Matt 12:34.  Can I see the flaws, the weak spots, the chinks in my armor?
            Believing the best about myself may seem “healthy. “   It may feel good.  It may give me a boost, and surely it’s more important to be encouraged than depressed, isn’t it?  Spiritual buoyancy is not the way to Heaven.  In fact, it will lead you the other direction quickly. 
              I need to see clearly.  Deluding myself about my faults won’t fix my soul any more than walking two miles will burn the same calories as walking three and a half.  And one is a whole lot more important than the other.
 
Let no one deceive himself. If anyone among you thinks that he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise, 1Cor 3:18
 
Dene Ward
 

On June 6, 1933, Richard Hollingshead opened the first drive-in theater.  Camden, New Jersey, was its home and the price was twenty-five cents per car per person.  That night the movie was "Wives Beware."
I remember those theaters well.  Across the river from our small town, an only slightly larger town boasted one that offered a double feature for $1 a carload.   It was thirty years later so naturally the price had risen, but still, what a deal!
            Our family usually arrived about fifteen minutes early to procure the best spot.  If you were too close all we kids in the backseat could see were headless actors.  But you certainly didn’t want to end up on the back row or next to the concession stand amid all sorts of distractions.
            Once you found a decent spot, you checked the speaker before anything else.  If it didn’t work, and some did not, you went on the hunt again.  Once the speaker situation was in order you spent a few minutes edging up and down the hump to raise the front half of the car to just the right angle so the line of sight worked for everyone.  (That first New Jersey drive-in did not have the hump.  I am not sure how anyone actually saw the movie.)  Then you had to deal with obstructions.  Our rearview mirror could be turned completely vertical, but other cars had one you could fold flat against the ceiling.  Headrests on the front seat would have been a catastrophe, but no one had them back then so we avoided that problem altogether.
            Now that set-up was complete, we rolled down the windows so we could get any breeze possible in the warm humid night air.  Along with the chirping crickets, the croaking frogs, and the traffic passing on the street behind the screen, we also had to put up with buzzing mosquitoes.  My mother usually laid a pyrethrum mosquito coil on the dashboard and lit it, the smoke rising and circulating through the car all during the movies, the coil only half burned when the second “THE END” rolled down the screen.
            At that price we never saw first run movies.  Usually they were westerns with John Wayne or Glenn Ford or Jimmy Stewart, or romantic comedies with Rock Hudson and Doris Day.  Occasionally we got an old Biblical epic like David and Bathsheba or Sodom and Gomorrah, both about as scripturally accurate as those westerns were historically accurate, which is to say, not very.  The only Disney we got was Tron, but that was back when it was a bomb not a cult classic.  Still, we enjoyed our family outing every other month or so.
            And we got one thing that I am positive no one born after 1970 ever got.  When the screen finally lit up about ten minutes before the movie started, after the Coming Attractions and ads for the snacks at the concession stand—and oh, could we smell that popcorn and butter all night long—was the following ad, complete with voiceover in case you missed the point.  “CH__ CH.  What’s missing?  U R.  Join the church of your choice and attend this Sunday.”  And that was not an ad from any of the local denominations—it was a public service announcement!
            But this is what we all did—instead of being grateful that anything like that would even be put out for the general public, we fussed about its inaccuracy.  We were bad, as my Daddy would say, about living in the objective case.  When that’s all you see, you miss some prime teaching opportunities.
            So let’s get this out of the way first.  It isn’t our choice, it’s God’s.  It is, more to the point since he built it and died for it, the Lord’s church.  We should be looking not for a church that teaches what we like to hear, but what he taught, obeying his commands, not our preferences.  And you don’t “join” it.  The Lord is the one who adds to the church, the church in the kingdom sense, which is the only word used in the New Testament for what we in our “greater” wisdom call the “universal” sense.  But that’s where we miss the teaching opportunity because for some reason we ignore this verse:
            And when [Saul] 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, Acts 9:26.
            Did you see that?  Immediately after his conversion, Saul tried to join a local group, what we insist on calling “placing membership” in spite of that phrase never appearing anywhere in the text.  (For people who claim to “use Bible words for Bible things” we are certainly inconsistent.)  The New Testament example over and over is to be a part of a local group of believers—not to think you can be a Christian independent of any local congregation or simply float from group to group. 
            Why do people do that?  Because joining oneself to a group involves accountability to that group, and especially to the leadership of that group.  It involves serving other Christians.  It involves growing in knowledge.  It means I must arrange my schedule around their meetings rather than my worldly priorities.  The New Testament is clear that some things cannot be done outside the assembly.  I Cor 5:4,5; 1 Cor 11 and 16, along with Acts 20 are the obvious ones.  That doesn’t count the times they all came together to receive reports, e.g. Acts 14:27, and plain statements like “the elders among you” which logically infers a group that met together.  Then there are all those “one another” passages that I cannot do if there is no “one another” for me to do them with.
            We are called the flock of God in several passages.  You may find a lone wolf out in the wild once in awhile, but you will never find a lone sheep that isn’t alone because he is anything but lost.  It is my responsibility to be part of a group of believers.  We encourage one another, we help one another, we serve another.  Our pooling our assets means we can evangelize the city we live in, the country we live in, even the world.  It means we can help those among us who are needy.  It means we can purchase and make use of tools that we could not otherwise afford.  It means we can pool talents and actually have enough members available for teaching classes without experiencing burn-out.  It means we are far more likely to find men qualified to tend “the flock of God among them.”
            So while God may add me to the kingdom when I submit to His will in baptism, it is my duty to find a group of like-minded brothers and sisters and serve along side them.  Serve—not be served.  Saul had a hard time “joining himself” to the church in Jerusalem because of his past, but Barnabas knew it was the right thing for him to do and paved the way.     
            CH__CH.  What’s missing?  Is it you?
           
Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing. We ask you, brothers, to respect those who labor among you and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Be at peace among yourselves. And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all, 1 Thes 5:11-14
 
Dene Ward
 

We traded cars not long ago.  This one has a few new gadgets on it. You can raise and lower the driver’s seat, as well as pull it forward or push it back.  You can position the steering column up or down, in or out.  Unfortunately I had not yet learned how to do that the first time I climbed in to drive when Keith was at work.
            Instead of sliding onto the seat, I fell into a hole.  If the seat was not actually sitting on the floorboards of the car, it was close.  As I tried to slide my legs under the steering wheel, I realized that it was practically resting on the seat.  I sat for a minute fumbling around, and never found the right button, knob, or lever to fix anything.  Needless to say, my driving experience that day was far from relaxing.  Every time I got in, I fell in, squeezed under the steering wheel, and then spent the entire drive doing pull-ups on it so I could see where I was going.
            All of that is because Keith is nearly six inches taller than I, and apparently his favored driving position is sitting on the floor with his knees up around his ears.  That is why they make those seats movable—no two people are the same size and shape, and we all have our own definitions of comfort.
            We tend to forget that with one another in the church.  Depending upon when we first came into contact with the gospel, and the background we brought to the baptistery, we are all in different places in our faith and understanding.  While the New Testament strongly hints that God has put a timetable on our learning (“when by reason of time you ought to be teachers”), it may not be my place to judge your progress.  True, if one has been a Christian forty years and still craves the milk of the word rather than the meat, there just might be a problem, but most of my impatience with my brothers and sisters has little to do with circumstances so obvious.
            The job of the priest under the old law was to bear gently with the ignorant and erring for he himself also is compassed with infirmity, Heb 5:2.  Aren’t we all called priests of God under the new law, (1 Pet 2:5)?  And Paul says to the weak I became as weak so that I might gain the weak, 1 Cor 9:22.  He did not look down his nose at one who did not yet have his knowledge and comprehension of the plan of God through the ages. 
            When the church is growing spiritually and has reached a point that change in its traditions becomes expedient for the progress of the gospel, some people have problems with it.  They are stuck in a place where traditions in their minds have become laws.  It becomes more difficult for them to change those things.  Are we patient in our teaching?   Do we make ourselves “weak” by understanding how difficult this is for them, and so guide them along with compassion? 
            Mind you, we are not talking about changing the rules of the road or even how a car operates.  You must still drive on the “right” side of the road.  You still have to press the accelerator to go and the brake to stop, but some of us shift gears smoothly and automatically, while others need to do it manually, slowly and methodically, one gear at a time. 
            I usually see all those cars that impatiently pass me a little further down the road.  Sometimes they sit on the shoulder with another car behind them, flashing its blue lights. Other times I quietly pull along side of them at the next stoplight as we both obey the law, idling in our separate lanes.  So he got there ten seconds ahead of me—big deal. We both followed the rules and ended up in the same place.
            We must patiently show one another how to move the car seat so we can all more easily see down the road, so none of us is left sitting in a hole, awkwardly doing pull-ups on the steering wheel, trying to see where he is going.
 
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 have fallen on me, Rom 15:1-3
 
Dene Ward