If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. [Romans 12:18 (ESV)]
There was a bit of a kerfuffle behind us during church last week; it started during the Old Testament reading and continued to the Gospel. As best as I can figure, a bottle of water had leaked onto the pew. The women behind me sat on the damp cushion and made quite a production of detecting, discussing, and complaining about it first to her husband and then to her neighbor (whose water it had been). There was room enough to move down in that pew and plenty of other pews (with dry cushions) available, but the couple never moved. Nevertheless, throughout the rest of the service, I felt the woman’s breath on my neck every time she exhaled another loud sigh of misery.
Upon returning to our pews after receiving Communion, I realized she’d left church rather than go forward for the bread and wine. When her husband returned to the pew, I heard the woman whose water had spilled whisper her heartfelt apology once again. She asked what she could do to make it right. He casually said, “Nothing. Life happens; it was an accident and she has to get over it.” He then confided, “I’m sorry; she doesn’t handle things well.”
I thought of the story of David, Nabal, and Abigail in 1 Samuel 25. David and his men were hiding from King Saul in the wilderness of Maon when they came across Nabal’s shepherds tending his 3,000 sheep and 1,000 goats. Rather than stealing any animals for themselves, David’s men formed a line of protection around the shepherds and animals so that no harm came to them. At sheep shearing time, a time of celebration when the shepherds would get paid, David sent wishes of peace and prosperity to the wealthy Nabal. Explaining that he and his men had warded off both Bedouin raiders and predators, David asked Nabal to share some provisions with his men as payment for their protection. While their services had been unsolicited, David’s request was not unreasonable.
Nabal’s name meant “fool,” and the man lived up to his name; he not only refused but did so by insulting the slayer of Goliath. Upon hearing Nabal’s rude response, the angry David and his army headed out with the intention of killing every man in Nabal’s household. Fortunately, a servant told Nabal’s wife, Abigail, of David’s service and Nabal’s rashness in offending him. The wise woman quickly packed a large quantity of food and wine and went to David. Humbly apologizing for Nabal’s bad manners and offering the provisions to David and his men, she assuaged David’s anger and defused a dangerous situation.
I imagine Abigail frequently had to make amends for her husband’s churlish and stingy behavior and, from the way that husband handled the situation at church, I suspect that he is no stranger to apologizing for his wife’s peevish conduct. Living with someone who makes mountains from molehills, overreacts to minor annoyances, or takes every slight as a personal insult can’t be easy and I immediately prayed for him.
It was not until later that I thought to pray for his wife. It’s easy to pray for the Abigails and Abners—the long-suffering spouses—in situations like that. They have both our admiration and sympathy as they regularly repair any damage left behind by their spouse. After giving it more thought, however, I also prayed for his wife and others like her—the Nabals and Mabels of life. How sad it must be to go through life choosing misery over joy, tightfistedness over generosity, resentment over forgiveness, turmoil over peace, and complaint over praise. May we all be wary of behaving as a Nabal; it didn’t end well for him. When he discovered what his wife had done, Nabal had a stroke and died!
If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. [Maya Angelou]
Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have. Love doesn’t strut, Doesn’t have a swelled head, doesn’t force itself on others, Isn’t always “me first,” doesn’t fly off the handle, Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others, doesn’t revel when others grovel, Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything. Trusts God always, always looks for the best, Never looks back, but keeps going to the end. [1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (MSG)]
God makes Himself known through His creation, His word, and in the still small voice of His Spirit and the things He has revealed to us are what make our faith possible. Nevertheless, there is much that He has not made known to us, which is why faith is necessary. A day will come when our questions will be answered; when that time comes, our hope will turn into reality and what we believe will be seen. But, until then, there will be occasions of doubt. Doubt, however, doesn’t mean we’ve lost our faith; we can’t doubt what we don’t believe!
Tears fell on my newspaper as I read the account of a toddler so violently raped that multiple surgeries will be required to repair the damage done to her little body. Nothing, however, will erase the abuse and my heart bled for the girl. From reading the book of Job, I knew not to ask God, “Why?” Nevertheless, I cried out to him, “How could you allow such evil to touch this child?”
Two weeks ago, in recognition of Reformation Day (commemorating Martin Luther’s posting of his Ninety-Five Theses in 1517), the minister at our liturgical church spoke about needed reforms in today’s church. By definition, reformation is changing or improving something by correcting its faults, removing inconsistencies and abuses, and imposing modern methods and values. While I firmly believe in correcting errors, removing contradictions and misuses, and even using modern methods, I would suggest caution about adopting modern values.
Twenty-one of the twenty-seven books of the New Testament are letters (epistles) written by Paul, James, Peter, John, and Jude. While the gospels tell us about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the epistles are letters of instruction, clarification, encouragement and, sometimes, caution to the new Christian community. I can’t help but wonder if those early letter writers realized the scope of their writing. Did they have any idea how fast and wide Christianity would spread? Did they envision how many people would come to know both their names and words? While they expected their messages to be read aloud to the members of the 1st century church, did they even dare hope that 2,000 years later their letters still would be read aloud regularly in many churches, that some of their words would even be used in Christian liturgy, or that people around the world would gather together to study their messages?
Devotions of the Heart 