It was early in 1945 when, as a war correspondent on Okinawa, I first came upon Shimabuku, the strangest and most inspiring community I ever saw. Huddled beneath its groves of banyan and twisted pine trees, this remote village of some 1000 souls was in the path of the ‘American’ advance and so received a severe shelling.

But when an advance patrol swept up to the village compound, the GI’s stopped dead in their tracks. Barring their way were two little old men; they bowed low and began to speak. The battle-hardened sergeant, Wary of tricks, held up his hand, summoned an interpreter. The interpreter shook his head. “I don’t get it. 

These are the 22 questions the members of John Wesley’s Holy Club asked themselves each day in their private devotions over 200 years ago:

Am I consciously or unconsciously creating the impression that I am better than I really am? In other words, am I a hypocrite?

Am I honest in all my acts and words, or do I exaggerate?

Do I confidentially pass on to another what was told to me in confidence?

Have you ever thought about the strange way in which God is calling a people out of a people already called? The word ekklesia, or church, means called out, but God is calling out a still more select body from the church to be His bride—those especially prepared for His coming.

But an inquirer asks, “What is the special meaning of the blood, of which we read so much? How does it speak peace? How does it ‘purge the conscience from dead works?’ What can blood have to do with the peace, the grace, and the righteousness of which we have been speaking?”

God has given the reason for the stress which he lays upon the blood; and, in understanding this, we get to the very bottom of the grounds of a sinner’s peace.

The sacrifices of old, from the days of Abel downward, furnishes us with the key to the meaning of the blood, and explain the necessity for its being “shed for the remission of sins.”

A crowd had gathered on the seashore, and, as is often usual, attracted others. On nearing it, we made our way through the outer edge, and were able to look over the heads of a number of boys who were intently gazing on a dangerous serpent which the showman had in his hands, and which curled round his arms and neck.

A venomous snake, whose bite was of the deadliest; but the man seemed to have charmed it, for though it shot out its forked tongue and touched him, it was quite harmless, and none of the evil effects we read of ensued. Most of the observers were amazed and puzzled, some not a little frightened, and various were the remarks made; but at last one clever onlooker explained the cause of its doing no harm, and cried out, “Oh! it’s got no sting.” That was the solution. The sting, or venom bag, had been extracted, and the reptile rendered harmless.

Why are we afraid to die? Is it not on account of sin? We know assuredly that death is dreadful, and why? Because it has a sting. God says: “The sting of death is sin.” If only we could extract the sting, death would no longer be terrible. Who can extract the deadly poison? We cannot, but the Lord Jesus Christ has removed it already for all who are His. In Him “we have redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins.” “His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree.” And so death is swallowed up in victory.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
(1 Corinthians 15:55-57)