October 9, 2004
Sinless Anger
Read: Proverbs 15:1-18
"Be angry, and do not sin": Do not let the sun go down on your wrath. —Ephesians 4:26
Bible In One Year: Isaiah 32-33; Colossians 1
When Supreme Court Justice Byron White was in Salt Lake City to give a speech, he was attacked by an angry man. The suspect said he assaulted the respected judge because of his High Court decisions. He said, "Justice White is causing four-letter words to come into my living room through the TV set." Rationalizing his attack, he continued, "The only way I know how to stop it is to go to the source."
That's where the man went wrong. Of course, he had a perfect right to voice his strong opinions. He was even justified in becoming angry if he believed a Court decision encouraged immorality. But the manner he chose to express his indignation was as bad as, if not worse than, a wrong court decision.
Today's Scripture text says, "Be angry, and do not sin" (Ephesians 4:26). What others say and do may arouse our anger and in some cases should make us angry. But we must be careful we don't overreact and lose control. The apostle Paul reminded us that "though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh" (2 Corinthians 10:3-4).
Should Christians ever become angry? Certainly! But we should never allow our anger to erupt in a sinful response. Two wrongs don't make a right. —Richard De Haan
When anger stirs within our hearts
Because of wrongs we see,
We must with love address the fault
If helpful we would be. —Branon
It's not a sin to get angry when you get angry at sin.
Just received this from LadyX and thought I would share with you. Special prayers for Christopher, please...
Dear Friends --
Just got our computer back after a week and a half, but still having major problems.
Lost everything we had on it, having to have the mother board replaced.
Will have to reformat it tomorrow *again,* so I wanted to copy this new mail from Terry in Florida and send it to you before it, too, is lost - she's been my sister in the Lord for 32 years!
It is worth sharing, especially for those of us whose bodies are wearing down, giving us true perspective - -
Please continue to pray for my grandson, Christopher(16). His surgery in Miami at Jackson Memorial Hospital revealed not a tumor, but a terrible, insidious bacterial infection almost unheard of in children.
The name is pseudomonas aeruginosa - a good description is here:
http://textbookofbacteriology.net/pseudomonas.html
Only a very few antibiotics can faze it, and he is on one of the two best - the other better one can stunt his growth, so is out.
It localized on his spine, and they suspect it has spread to his rib - checking a bit of that bone they removed to see, and other tissue.
While he probably is going home this weekend, he will have to remain at home for at the very LEAST THREE MONTHS, receiving the antibiotic every 6 hours, day and night.
Kevin and Susan, fortunately, will have the funds to deal with all this - both professionals with good insurance - and can arrange with the Christian School he has always attended for a home study tutor.
They have wonderful church support, both teaching teenage classes at their church, and a wonderful neighborhood of good friends.
(Lake Worth, near West Palm Beach)
Kevin says he can be off his position for up to 8 months, having 21 years of government service, and Susan is an attorney with some flexibility.
Do please pray this infection will not spread and be cleared up. They have no idea the source, since he is not systemically compromised with cystic fibrosis or has had pneumonia or has any of the other usual routes.
Had hand surgery 2 yars ago - some abnormal tissue (not cancerous) removed from his back - and they just don't know how he contracted it - has not been hospitalized per se.
Having some problems of my own, but hope to be back on The Finest later in this next week...
Love to all,
Margaret
LadyX
HANDS
An old man, probably some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the park bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands.
When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was ok.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was ok. He raised his head and looked at me and smiled.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, sir, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were ok," I explained to him.
"Have you ever looked at your hands?" he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down.
"No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands," as I tried to figure out the point he was making.
Then he smiled and related this story:
Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.
They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot.
They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.
And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.
But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And He won't care about where these hands have been or what they have done. What He will care about is to whom these hands belong and how much He loves these hands.
And with these hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
No doubt I will never look at my hands the same again. I never saw the old man again after I left the park that day but I will never forget him and the words he spoke.
When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of the man in the park.
I have a feeling he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.
I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel his hands upon my face.
Thank you, Father God, for hands.
"LIFE IS NOT A JOURNEY TO THE GRAVE WITH THE INTENTION OF ARRIVING SAFELY IN A PRETTY AND WELL PRESERVED BODY, BUT RATHER TO SKID IN SIDE-WAYS, THOROUGHLY USED UP, TOTALLY WORN OUT,
AND LOUDLY PROCLAIMING: WOW.... WHAT A RIDE !!!"
Beautiful, isn't it???!!!
Love and hugs - - -
LadyX
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