I had a close friend and housemate in college, we’ll call him Jim. As was the case with most of the students at my Christian college, Jim took a part-time job as a youth pastor in a small town a few hours away. He had been faithful in serving this church throughout his entire student career. One family in particular had adopted Jim into their life. When he came down for the weekend, they gave him a place to stay and a fridge to eat from. Jim was having success in his first ministry and he seemed primed for a bright future.
One weekend Jim never came back. No one knew what happened for a good week. When we did find out, I wish I could say it was a car accident, maybe stress from school or a family emergency. The truth is that my friend Jim had disappeared with one of his students, a 13-year-old girl, the daughter of the family that had been so generous to him. He had taken her in his car all the way down across the border into Mexico. None of us saw this coming, we were in shock. It wasn’t long when my shock turned to anger. He was a minister for crying out loud. People trusted him. What was he thinking?
About six months later Jim had been caught. He was being held on $80,000 bail for charges of rape, sodomy and sex abuse of a minor. Jim was found guilty and began serving his sentence in the state penitentiary. Last I heard he had given up on God.
Life goes on. In fact seven years went by until I was abruptly thrust back into the situation. While out of town for a summer weekend I was taking our boys down to their Sunday school class and I briefly caught a glimpse of a man that looked like Jim. In fact the more I saw him the more I was convinced. When I arrived in the service, I said, ‘honey, you’re not going to guess who I just saw, Jim.’ Jim? Yeah, that Jim. He goes here? I guess so. I wonder if people here know his past? I can’t believe that guy is hanging around here? Who does he think he is? You can’t just waltz back into another church and act like everything is OK.’
And so my thoughts went for the entire service; disgusted about what he did and might do again. The thought of how he threw it all away reminded me of my own faithfulness to God, how I had been diligent in representing Christ in my first church, how I built protection to stay physically pure with my relationships. I thanked God that my life had not been distracted and destroyed by poor choices like the ones Jim made.
Jesus tells a story with haunting similarities to my own story.
“To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men –robbers, evildoers, adulterers – or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”
After the service I went to pick up the boys and just as I came out of the classroom a voice from behind said, “Hey, Steve is that you?” I turned around and there stood Jim. He had caught me dead in my tracks. All I could think of to say was, “Jim, what are you doing here, last I heard you gave up on God.” “I did, but there was this chaplain that didn’t give up on me.” And in just a few minutes, he confessed his sin to me. He spoke about his desperate encounter with God’s grace and healing. He told how God has blessed him with this church—a church staff that knows about his background and are willing to take him in; to continue to nurture him and let him serve. I even got to meet his wife and three kids. Honestly, in looking in his eyes I felt like Jim was a new man. But regardless of whether Jim has had an authentic conversation God made me certain of one thing. My heart was judgmental and condemning. Thanks God I’m not like Jim, so glad I’d never do that, in fact look at all the good I’ve done. I had spent an entire Sunday morning full of self-righteous filth. In that hallway God showed me that it wasn’t just the tax collector that needed God’s mercy it was the Pharisee too, and most of all, it was me.
