Years ago Walt and I had a sweet Beagle named Ranger. She was AKC registered and had just delivered her first litter of puppies. It was so much fun to watch her turn from a care-free puppy herself to a careful and tender mother. One weekend Walt was asked to preach at a church in another city, so friends in the apartment upstairs agreed to take care of our pets for us.
When we got back home, Ray said, “Walt, I’m so sorry. Jerry, your neighbor across the street, shot and killed Ranger yesterday.” Evidently Ranger had tired of nursing her puppies and crawled through the fence for a bit of freedom. Bit why, oh, why, did Jerry have to kill her? There wasn’t a mean bone in that dog’s body. She’d never even snapped at anyone. I was distraught and angry. Walt knew how I felt. But he remembered a Scripture I needed to remember:
A gentle answer deflects anger,
but harsh words make tempers flare. Proverbs 15:1 nlt
And he also remembered how our Heavenly Father offered us grace:
Be kind to each other,
Tenderhearted, forgiving one another,
Just as God through Christ has forgiven you. Ephesians 4:32 nlt
Walt said, “Libby, I’ll take care of this.” How did he “take care of it”? He went to Jerry’s house and said, “I’m so sorry, Jerry, we didn’t realize Ranger was annoying you. I’ll build a stronger fence to make sure her puppies can’t get out.”
I would have given that man venom. Walt offered him grace, undeserved mercy. A good definition of mercy might be “Not getting what you do deserve, and getting what you don’t deserve.” The mercy and grace Walt gave Jerry touched something deep and yearning in
his heart—something my venom would never have done.
The next Saturday morning Walt started digging holes for the new promised fence. Jerry strolled over. “Hey, Walt, I may come to your church to hear you preach some Sunday.”
“Wonderful, Jerry,” Walt answered, giving the post-hole digger another twist. “We’d love to have you come. This Sunday, maybe?”
“But if I come, Preacher, you have to promise me you’ll lay off my beer and cigarettes.”
Walt put down his post-hole digger and looked at Jerry compassionately. “Jerry, have I ever even once mentioned your beer and cigarettes?”
“Well, no, never, but—”
“Your beer and cigarettes are not your real problem, Friend. Please do come.”
Jerry did come to church the next Sunday. And as he promised, Walt didn’t mention beer or cigarettes that morning, though he could have made a strong case about their dangers. Instead he told people that the Lord was so full of love and grace that He died in their place, to give them forgiveness of every sin, since He’d paid their debt. All Jerry had to do was to accept the free gift of eternal life Jesus so urgently wanted him to have.
Jerry trusted Jesus that morning. I don’t remember that he ever again mentioned his beer and cigarettes. He’d found Jesus.
“Preacher, Lay Off My Beer and Cigarettes”
A Word of Encouragement from Elizabeth Handford
Years ago Walt and I had a sweet Beagle named Ranger. She was AKC registered and had just delivered her first litter of puppies. It was so much fun to watch her turn from a care-free puppy herself to a careful and tender mother. One weekend Walt was asked to preach at a church in another city, so friends in the apartment upstairs agreed to take care of our pets for us.
When we got back home, Ray said, “Walt, I’m so sorry. Jerry, your neighbor across the street, shot and killed Ranger yesterday.” Evidently Ranger had tired of nursing her puppies and crawled through the fence for a bit of freedom. Bit why, oh, why, did Jerry have to kill her? There wasn’t a mean bone in that dog’s body. She’d never even snapped at anyone. I was distraught and angry. Walt knew how I felt. But he remembered a Scripture I needed to remember:
A gentle answer deflects anger,
but harsh words make tempers flare. Proverbs 15:1 nlt
And he also remembered how our Heavenly Father offered us grace:
Be kind to each other,
Tenderhearted, forgiving one another,
Just as God through Christ has forgiven you. Ephesians 4:32 nlt
Walt said, “Libby, I’ll take care of this.” How did he “take care of it”? He went to Jerry’s house and said, “I’m so sorry, Jerry, we didn’t realize Ranger was annoying you. I’ll build a stronger fence to make sure her puppies can’t get out.”
I would have given that man venom. Walt offered him grace, undeserved mercy. A good definition of mercy might be “Not getting what you do deserve, and getting what you don’t deserve.” The mercy and grace Walt gave Jerry touched something deep and yearning in
his heart—something my venom would never have done.
The next Saturday morning Walt started digging holes for the new promised fence. Jerry strolled over. “Hey, Walt, I may come to your church to hear you preach some Sunday.”
“Wonderful, Jerry,” Walt answered, giving the post-hole digger another twist. “We’d love to have you come. This Sunday, maybe?”
“But if I come, Preacher, you have to promise me you’ll lay off my beer and cigarettes.”
Walt put down his post-hole digger and looked at Jerry compassionately. “Jerry, have I ever even once mentioned your beer and cigarettes?”
“Well, no, never, but—”
“Your beer and cigarettes are not your real problem, Friend. Please do come.”
Jerry did come to church the next Sunday. And as he promised, Walt didn’t mention beer or cigarettes that morning, though he could have made a strong case about their dangers. Instead he told people that the Lord was so full of love and grace that He died in their place, to give them forgiveness of every sin, since He’d paid their debt. All Jerry had to do was to accept the free gift of eternal life Jesus so urgently wanted him to have.
Jerry trusted Jesus that morning. I don’t remember that he ever again mentioned his beer and cigarettes. He’d found Jesus.