Christian artist Steve Camp released a song by that title in the late '80s. After listening to a story of one of our church's retired pastors, I was reminded of that tune. The man who shared the story with me is one of my dear friends in this world. I admire him because he worked tirelessly for a number of years attempting to pastor God's flock and reach others with the Gospel of Christ. All the while, he held down a full-time job, doing the work of a bi-vocational pastor. I love bi-vocational pastors. They're never invited to speak at big conferences or chair large committees, but I'm convinced that some of them are God's most devoted followers in all the earth.
The story goes like this: My pastor friend was sitting home with his family one Sunday afternoon several years ago when there was a knock at his door. When he opened the door he saw one of his church members and another man he didn't recognize. The church member explained that the unknown guest was a young man who owned a local service station in town. The young service station owner just happened to be Catholic and the church member had been witnessing to him for some time. He brought the young man to the pastor's house in the hope that the pastor would be able to reach him with the Gospel.
Normally the young man would be working on Sunday afternoon, but he decided to close his service station on account of his friend's persistence. The pastor welcomed both men inside. It wasn't long until my pastor friend shared the Gospel with the young man. It was very clear to the pastor that the young man was under conviction. When the pastor extended an invitation to the young man to receive Christ as His Savior, he said something like this: "I believe everything you're saying, but there is something you must know. If I surrender my life to Christ, my family will disown me and I'll have nowhere to stay."
My pastor friend looked at the young man and asked him this question: "Is that the only thing keeping you from surrendering your life to Jesus?" The young man confessed that it was. The pastor asked the young man to look down the hallway of his home and directed his attention toward one of the bedrooms. The pastor asked him, "Do you see that bedroom at the end of the hall?" The young man acknowledged that he could see it. The pastor then extended this offer to the young man: "If you'll surrender your life to Christ, you'll never have to worry about a place to stay. That bedroom will be yours. Furthermore, you'll always have a chair at my table."
The young man was stunned. He looked directly into the eyes of the pastor and asked, "Do you really mean that?" The pastor responded in the affirmative. Just then, the young man said, "Let's pray." Then and there, the young man gave his life to Jesus - all because one man was willing to open his home and share his food with a new believer in Christ.
I'm so glad my pastor friend came by this morning and shared that story with me. It caused me to wonder if I would be willing to go to the same lengths to see someone saved. Would I open my home to a complete stranger? Would I offer him/her a place at the table? We tell people that Jesus loves them all the time, but is it really a good idea for us to do so if we're not willing to love them to? Those lost apart from Christ will never know that "God is love" (1 John 4:8) until they experience God's love working through us. That reminds me of another old adage: "They'll never care how much we know, until they know how much we care." How much does that lost soul mean to you? What you're willing to sacrifice to see him/her saved will provide you with the answer to that question.
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