Checkbook Christians

 "I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me." Matthew 25:36....

I have been a pastor for going on 40 years now, and I have a confession to make. Through most of those years I performed ministry that was difficult, uncomfortable, and took me to and into places that my flesh didn't want to be. I was never greatly at ease visiting people in their homes. I didn't like hospitals or being surrounded by sickness and disease. Throughout my ministry, and with various people, I ministered in prisons, and was decidedly uncomfortable in all of them. The truth is that I ended up in countless places that I would never have chosen to be, but was, and for one reason alone; His love constrained me to go. It was more than just doing my duty. It was the knowledge that if I sought to avoid ministering in these places, I would also be avoiding Him. To avoid Him is to miss Him, and I have learned that I can never afford to miss Him, even if joining Him means a stark prison, a dark hospital room, or a family whose very foundation is crumbling. Learning is oftentimes difficult, and my learning continues.

We believers in the west have become highly skilled at throwing money at real needs. We can be very generous in this, especially if our generosity somehow excuses us from ever having to actually encounter those in need. By our giving, we in effect, pay for someone else to be Jesus to them. We can feel like we've done something good without ever having to leave the comfort of our well constructed environment. We've avoided what makes us uncomfortable, or offends our flesh, but have soothed our conscience by writing a check and getting no closer to the need than our name upon that check.

Is this the extent of our compassion? Do we "minister" with as little personal cost as possible. Do we give of our finances without ever giving of ourselves? Are we a people without a face giving to people who have no face to us? Do we avoid the real pain and sacrifice of ministry that we might go on enjoying our personal comfort but feeling that in giving something financially, we've done our part. Have we avoided the sacrifice of real ministry not realizing that in doing so, we've also avoided Jesus Himself.

I remember seeing an old movie. In it, a cruise ship suffers a terrible explosion in its engine room. With smoke billowing out, surviving crew members are seen scrambling to escape the death and destruction. At the same time, one man, a minister, is making his way down to that engine room. A terrified sailor cries out to him, "For the love of God man, don't go down there!" The minister's reply was, "For the love of God, I must go down there." Such it is for we who are priests and ministers of the Father. We must minister not out of duty, or guilt, or because it's what people expect of us. it must be because His love gives us no other option, and we want no other option. There are still so many aspects of ministry that don't come natural to me, and that I'm decidedly uncomfortable with doing. And sadly, there have been times when I rationalized a way to avoid those places. In doing so, I avoided Jesus. I missed Jesus. Can there be a greater loss than avoiding the place where He is? I return to the scene from the movie. For each of us, there will be, very possibly this very day, places where our flesh tells us, "We can't go there." May His love move us to reply, "For His love, I must go there." We must be something much greater and better than "Checkbook Christians." We must be those who go into the smoking engine rooms of this world in spite of the cost because His love and life give us no other option.

Blessings,
Pastor O