Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: GREED (avarice, particularly for wealth and things) (01/22/15)
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TITLE: Flying Dollars | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gary Ritter
01/24/15 -
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“Grumbling? You mean gossip?” I asked.
“It may not have reached that general level,” the deacon said, “but it’s certainly among the major donors.”
I sat up straighter. This would never do. Deacon Barnes, along with the eleven other deacons and me, were in our weekly Board meeting. As pastor of the church I was responsible for shepherding the flock and keeping them from the rocky cliffs. If people were unhappy for some reason, particularly those whose contributions kept the church from tumbling over the financial edge, I needed to deal with the issue.
“Any idea why there’s unrest?”
Deacon Stout cleared his throat. “It’s been whispered to me that your sermons are disturbing some people.”
“Oh my.” I was a younger pastor who had come into this older, well-established church determined to theologically shake things up. In my zeal I hadn’t considered the ramifications. In our meeting we had just reviewed the church budget. Our finances weren’t good.
Membership had been dropping with expenses skyrocketing. Several years before I came to the pastorate the Board had approved an adjustable rate mortgage. It had adjusted dramatically upward. Because of that and unexpected major repairs to our building we were in trouble.
My preaching had shaken things. No doubt. It made people uncomfortable. I saw that, but figured God would change their hearts. Instead, many were leaving, and those left were threatening to withhold money.
“Who are the ones grumbling?” I asked. “I’ll talk to them.”
I got along well with most folks, with one exception. Naturally he was the one behind the uprising. Jack McMillan was old money. When he spoke, people listened. He had made, but also broken, a lot of ambitious men in his career. He wasn’t one to withhold his blessings or his curses. The trust fund he’d established for the church was substantial and, unfortunately, revocable. He made that clear in our meeting, and told me exactly why he had an issue with me.
“Reverend Webster, here’s the deal. I was happy before you came. Our minister told me God loved me. Period. He said my good life was a blessing because God wants me to be happy. Now you come along and tell me I’m so full of sin that I’m going to hell. You listen to me: I’ve got nothing to repent of because I’m a good person. You’re disturbing my equilibrium, and I don’t like it one bit. If I hear one more word out of your mouth about this sin garbage or hell, I’m gone. I’ve been a member of this church a long time, but I don’t need you heaping a load of guilt on my plate. I’m not eating it!”
After licking my proverbial wounds I thought long and hard about Mr. McMillan’s position, and his money. God said the love of money is the root of all evil, but he never addressed how important money is for spreading the Good News. If our church shut down, how could the Word of God reach people in the unique way we offered it? Surely if I moderated my messages to accommodate some of the preferences of McMillan and others in his camp, God’s Word wouldn’t return void.
I reviewed the church’s financial ledgers late into the evening. Without the McMillan trust moneys and the funds he assured me were at risk from others who felt as he, then our doors would have to shut.
My dreams that night turned into a vision. Hundred dollar bills sprouted wings and rose from the pews. They shattered the church’s stained glass windows and came to rest in our rival church down the block. I awoke sweating. What else could this be but inspiration from God? If I did as Jack McMillan requested, it certainly wasn’t avarice on my part, it was prudence. I would never sell my soul to keep that which I loved a thriving entity, not to mention my handsome salary continuing unabated. I was God’s servant. This wasn’t about money. It was about principle. Our community needed this church for its very soul. It also needed me in the altar.
Having settled my dilemma I fell back asleep, confident in our future and the ongoing contentment of Mr. McMillan.
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At least the author did not finish the story so each reader can finish it for himself.
So each reader can finish it for himself. Here is mine in a short version: Sunday morning the preacher stood by the pulpit but then bowed on his knees confessing his sin of greed. He asked for the prayers of the congregation. After several members had prayed for him, he stood and started his sermon saying: "In demonstration of my repentance, I am putting my job on the line. The title of today's sermon is,"The power of God's Word in Searching Sin in the Heart."