When God called me to preach fifty-three years ago this month, I immediately stopped  smoking and drinking, and have stayed with that decision ever since.  I felt so strongly about not drinking alcohol that I would not even use it when suggested by a physician.  And as time went on, I developed a superior, disdainful attitude toward those who drank.

    In the fall of 1954, a man and his wife visited the small church I was pastoring.  He became a Christian and was baptized into our fellowship.  In December, as Christmas drew near, I visited in their home.  They seemed very glad to see me, and we had a pleasant visit.  Toward the end of the visit, he expressed his appreciation toward me as their pastor, and offered me a gift.  It was a bottle of wine.

    I was stunned, scandalized, and outraged.  I didn’t say anything ugly, but in declining the offer I made it very plain that I didn’t drink and that the gift was not appropriate.  And I did it in such a self-righteous way that I offended them, and forever destroyed whatever opportunity I had to minister to them in the future.  I have never regretted my action in refusing the bottle of wine.  But I have often wished I had done so with a different spirit and attitude.

    A few weeks ago I made reservations at a Bed and Breakfast.  I had just learned that I very likely have cancer in both kidneys.  I shared that with the lady when we set up the dates, but thought no more about it.

    When we arrived, she came in to help us get settled.  She said that when her husband heard about my news, he decided I needed something to cheer me up.  And she pointed to the table.  There sat a bottle of “Texas Red,” and two wine glasses.  Once again I was stunned.  But this time I was neither scandalized nor outraged.  I said nothing then, but I thought about it during our stay.

    The man didn’t know I was a preacher.  He had been moved by a spirit of concern for me which he expressed with a gift that seemed appropriate to him.  I understood that, and I deeply appreciated it.  I left a thank you card in which I had written a personal note expressing my appreciation and explaining why I could not accept the gift.  I did so as gently and graciously as I knew how.  If we go back, I hope he and I can become friends.

    In neither instance did I take or drink the wine.  But my attitude was so different.  This time there was love and appreciation for the one who made the offer.

    Maybe there’s hope for this old Pharisee yet.