Oil And The Wine

There was a certain man who was walking along, minding his own business, perhaps on a road he had walked many times. He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary…it seemed like just an average day.

But this particular day wasn’t the day he had planned. The man was unaware of the criminal element who were waiting for an opportune moment to attack. Attack they surely did, for they beat him, took all he had, and left him to die by the side of the road.

They were not men from another country or of another religious persuasion. They were his own countrymen, and perhaps even worshiped in the same church as he. The man may have even recognized them and called them by name. Given these possibilities, we have to wonder why they did not make certain he could never identify them.

The answer seems clear. Those dudes were not counting on anyone coming to his rescue. I mean, after all, he wasn’t anybody…just your average Joe, on his way from point A to point B. Who would pay him any mind? If he had been someone of importance, perhaps it would have given them pause, but the attackers could tell by his attire he wasn’t a priest, lawyer or politician. So who would care that he was nigh unto death?

No one would care and no one would help.

And it seemed that they were right, for a time. People did pass by, choosing to turn a deaf ear to his moans. Looking away from the bloody body, not wishing to get involved or too busy to take the time to stop, they crossed the road and walked on the other side. Some even stopped for a moment, but continued on their way.

The Storyteller described two men in particular who did just that. They were religious folk, and one would rightfully assume that compassion and mercy would have been the order of the day. As the injured man laid in the dirt, wounded and penniless, he probably thought help was coming, as he looked up, through the tears and the swollen eyes, and saw the men of faith coming near.

But they did not stop. They did not help.

What were they thinking…that they were just too busy to stop and help a man who was clearly on his way out of here anyway? Did they think that bending down in the blood, sweat and dirt would stain their own garments?

Were they thinking that he was not worthy of their time…that he was too young or too old, or from the wrong side of the tracks? Was it because he was not the child of anyone important? Did they wonder if perhaps he had brought this on himself…kinda like a ‘you made your bed, now lie in it’ mentality?

What was on their mind when they passed by and did not try to bring healing? We will never know, but we do know there is more to the story…

One man stopped in his journey. He was not a fellow countrymen, and as a matter of fact, came from a country despised and hated by the injured man. So strong was the feeling, and so hard was the teaching, we can only wonder what might have happened if the roles had been reversed. Given this, it is clear that had the man not needed assistance, he and his benefactor may have never had any interaction whatsoever.

But, as the song goes, “God had another plan.”

It seems strange, doesn’t it, that compassion and mercy should be extended in such a way, and by someone the Jews were forbidden to have contact with.

Yet the story is true, that a stranger stooped down to where the man was, “bound up his wounds, pouring in the oil and the wine,” laid the man on his horse or donkey, and took him to an inn (Luke 10:34).

If that wasn’t enough, he paid the innkeeper for the night, and said that if there was any other expense in seeing after the injured man, upon his return, he would pay the bill.

One commentator wrote that in telling the story, the Lord just didn’t relate in general terms the extent of the Samaritan’s compassion, but detailed how he did it. The man's compassion seemed to have no end. He didn’t ask questions or condemn the injured man. He simply and precisely did all he could to help a wounded man.

This parable is one that is well known, even by those who are not church folks. They will refer to a kind person, someone who has gone out of their way, as a Good Samaritan. And there is even a Good Samaritan Law, which states that someone who comes to the aid of an injured party cannot be sued for inadequate assistance.

So, we all know about being a Good Samaritan, and understand the principle, however, it is not always displayed in the one place we would expect to find it.

That people come into the House of Prayer, broken and bleeding, we all clearly understand. But some fail to realize that not all are healed at the point of salvation. Often the events of the past have left wounds so deep that, for whatever reason, it has left them unable to move on.

And for some, the wounds come after salvation. Through a loss or family dysfunction; long term sickness that has worn down the will; a hurt and an unforgiving heart; the feeling that they have been stepped over and not fully appreciated; personal failure and the inability to forgive themselves …on and on it goes.

These issues are in the Church.

We can say that it is not in MY Church, but the thing about wounds of the heart and emotions is that we can’t see them. Oh, if only we could see their pain, we might be better equipped. If we only saw the need, we would be quick on the draw and do all we can.

But we can’t. We see people service after service, shake their hand and hug their neck, but never know what is happening on the inside. We have no idea of what happened in their past or what is happening now. We don’t see the struggle and the shattered dreams. We don’t know their pain, and through the eyes of the natural realm, there is no way we can.

So you are wondering, Girl, what is the point? If we can’t see it, we can’t help, right?

Wrong. We can do something. We can be discerning...through the eyes of the Spirit, we can be sensitive to the needs around us. We can pray. We can be available. We can be loving and caring. We can ask God to season our words with grace. And we can understand that behind every action is a root cause...a reason.

The easy way out is to label it all as sin or rebellion, when if truth be known, it is much more than that. For most, it is not always a bad attitude, fault finding, or a flat-out sin issue. Sometimes…sometimes the issues run so deep, the individual has a hard time putting into words where it truly stems from.

That is why it is needful beyond words that we recognize the wounded among us.

The young lady who finds she is pregnant, or the one who makes drastic changes in her appearance…some would call it rebellion and cut them off. But what has brought these young ladies to this point? Do we love enough…does our compassion run deep enough to bring us to intercession on their behalf?

Is what we profess real enough to allow us to let the grace of God be manifested? Can we allow Almighty God to be God, or must we stand as judge and jury? Can we see the wounded as needing healing and not that they are just cold and indifferent, as if the final die has been cast? Can our compassion and love run as deep as the wound?

It is more serious than we realize, for the thing is, people live with pain and wounds for just so long, but then comes the breaking point…

On an early Spring morning in 1930, a giant Redwood tree suddenly and unexpectedly fell to the ground. As there was no outward sign of trouble, the experts were confused as to why this would happen. It seemed odd when we consider that Redwoods grow to be over 200 ft. high, weighing nearly 2,500 tons, are 30 ft. in diameter (large enough to drive a car through), and have a life expectancy of 2,000 years.

Something went terribly wrong, but what was it? Their query caused them to take a portion of the tree trunk and study the rings for possible answers. They made some interesting discoveries…

The experts saw that though earthquakes had badly shaken the tree, it did not tumble under the impact of the quaking ground.

They could see the tree had been plagued with decay and fungi, and though it can severely do structural damage, somehow the tree survived.

The rings showed signs of lightening striking the tree, sometimes with great force. But through it all, the tree stood tall.

None of these things felled the free, but then they saw something that gave them pause…in around 1810, someone started a fire too close to the base of the tree, burning 30 ft. up the north side of the trunk.

A 30 ft. burn doesn’t seem like much of a big deal on such a mammoth tree, and for 120 years it seemed that it wasn't a big deal. From outward appearances it looked as if all was well. The scar from the burn was not as noticeable as it had been, and a casual observer may not have even thought much of it.

However, in it's failure to heal itself, the effects of the wound kept going deeper and deeper, year after year, deeper and deeper, until one day…

They say it could have been something as simple as the early morning breeze blowing through the leaves. It could have been as common and ordinary as a bird lighting on a branch. It was nothing, really…just your average morning.

But the tree fell.

For the wounded in our midst, it doesn’t take much for them to crumble and fall. It can be nothing at all…some little thing that under normal circumstances wouldn’t have disturbed them in the least. But the scars of some long ago wound have once again been opened, and they are too hurt to allow the Word in.

They need us.

It is up to you and me to bind their wound, pour in the oil and the wine, and extend compassion. Pouring the oil and the wine does not excuse their actions, nor does it condone sin. But just as the Lord didn’t come into this world to condemn us, neither should we condemn others.

The injured Hebrew couldn’t find healing and solace from his kinsmen, but a stranger brought what he needed. How often we have seen a young girl leave us and turn to her friends, and for no other reason than she felt she would be turned aside by the Church. We then judged her for the pregnancy AND for looking to the outside.

It wasn’t the love of the world that necessarily drew her, rather her fear of our words and attitude, as well as her fear that we would neglect to pour the oil and the wine. When folks have witnessed our failure to respond to others, their trust that we will be there for them is somewhat wanting.

May the Lord keep us from judging ahead of it’s time, thinking we know the reasons and whatnot. Let us keep compassion as the foremost thought in any situation. And may we love with the love of the Lord, asking for wisdom in all things, speaking life and not death, loving them into wholeness of heart and mind.

We have a charge to keep…may the Lord be glorified in us and through us, this day and forevermore!

Oil and the wine
Healing divine
The oil brings the gladness
There’s life in the vine

Oil and the wine
Such healing divine
Servants of mercy

If we are servants of mercy

Servants of mercy
Pour in the oil and the wine

Mothers in Zion

Note: I was drafting this post before I went to work last night, but in my haste to leave, I did not save it. Woe is me…a wind storm blew in, the power went out, and I lost everything. So, I will try to capture my thoughts of yesterday…*sigh*


For several years now, whenever Mother’s Day rolls around, my mind goes to that of the Church Mother, and the role that women play in the Church.

We don't hear much about Church Mothers today, but I spent many years in the Church Of Our Lord Jesus Christ, a predominantly African American Apostolic organization. In the COOLJC, as in most ‘Black churches’, there is what is known as the Mother's Board. It is usually made up of senior women and is designed for teaching and training the younger women (I Timothy 5:2; Titus 2:3-8). ‘Mother’ is used as a term of endearment and respect.

The wonderful thing about the role of ‘Mother’…it is not only age which qualifies. Though the Scriptures above refer specifically to the aged women, it is a fact that many times spiritual depth and wisdom can be seen in those younger, as well.

For example, we are not sure of her age, but Deborah was a Mother in Israel (Judges 5:7), who sat under a tree and gave wise counsel. Such was her wisdom that she was made a judge over Israel (Judges 4:4).

For the nay sayers…Deborah very well may have been made judge because there were no men that qualified, however, her gift of wisdom allowed that she was judge. Gender did not disqualify her from operating under the unction of the Holy One.

And so it is today. The Church is powerfully charged with women of worth…women who have risen above the traps and snares of the enemy to become Mothers in Zion. The obstacles of life have only served to make them stronger in faith and wise in judgment.

My mother was very young when she married and had four children…three more followed some years later. What I find remarkable is, though in those early years she had a home and four young’uns to care for, mom taught Sunday School, sang in the Adult Choir, directed the Junior Choir, and along with my daddy, was youth counselor.

When mom started the Junior Choir back in the ‘50s, it wasn’t a popular thing. I don’t mean she had opposition, just that children were kinda not used much on the platform, and save for the occasional special times, it just wasn’t done. Children's choirs were not the norm, as they seem to be today, and in Michigan I dare say our church set the pattern.

Mom put all she had into it, and didn’t let us go through the motions, either. She directed like we were the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir! We learned songs of depth…songs which have remained with us 50 years later. This is one of my favorites, written by Stuart Hamblin…

How big is God
How big and wide His vast domain
To try to tell, these lips can only start
He’s big enough to rule this mighty universe
Yet small enough to live within my heart

Mom taught us to listen to ourselves and those around us, as well as teaching us three-part harmony. That is why today, though the wind is about gone from me for singing, the ‘ear’ and the love of the ministry of the song have never left me. My mother took other people’s children, and her own, and gave us all the same precious gift of music!

She may never have thought of herself as a Mother of the Church, but as a friend once said, “One need not be a Leader to lead.”

It is a wonderful fact that women play a powerful role in the Church. While men do pray, and are commanded to do so (I Timothy 2:8), it is usually the women of the Church who are the prayer warriors.

Coupled with that, we hold up the hands of the pastor as he ministers the anointed Word. We labor, cleaning and cooking, seeing that the the necessities of life are met so that the Gospel can go forth.

We are givers and altar workers. We care for the children and tenderly show them the Way. We teach purity, loyalty and honesty... consistency in faithfulness...love for traditions and principles that have been the hallmark of sanctification.

What a privilege to be a woman in the Church!

As I end this Mother’s Day post, I would be remiss if I did not mention that pastor’s wives, regardless of age, are indeed Mothers of the Church. They may not be senior in age, but they are Mothers in Zion nonetheless.

My pastor’s wife is much younger than I, yet is held in our church, and elsewhere, with utmost respect and esteem for the godly example she presents and the Christian character she consistently displays. Her counsel is fair and just…her humility is genuine and true...the love she extends has no limit. This, and more, she learned seated at the feet of her dear mother.

As one uses a perfectly fit pattern to cut fine cloth, so these fine women of integrity, cut from the same cloth of holiness, have set a pattern for all to follow. By their example, we experience the ease of being fitly joined to the Word of truth.

The essence of this is captured in what some Catholic theologians call "a living rule." The idea is that if the Bible were destroyed, it could be recaptured by studying the behavior of a godly woman.

Today I honor Sister Renee Warman, and Sister Teresa Baker. They are the ‘real deal’, a true "living rule," and when I grow up, I want to be just like them!

So, to my mom; to Sister Warman and Sister B; to my dear friends, some who are pastor’s wives, some who are not; and to Mothers in Zion everywhere…

My prayer today is that you know that God sees your years of dedication and service and IS rewarding, and will CONTINUE to reward in kind. Your labor is not in vain, for the benefits of reaching for souls and giving when you didn’t feel like it, or when you weren’t sure you were up to the task, will pay off in the souls who will make it in because you prayed and gave. Sacrifice is never a wasted effort, not for us or for you.

May God bless you, women of God, on this Mother‘s Day…you are loved more than you know!