We read every word and examined every little “jot and tittle,” looking for a catch. We knew there had to be one, but we sure couldn’t find it.
Even my husband’s engineer brain and my sleuthing skills didn’t help us spot what was wrong with the mailing informing us we’d won a $750 prepaid Visa card. Our number matched the winning number on the flyer and all we had to do, it said, was take it to a certain car dealership to claim our prize.
Now that Joe is retired and has more time on his hands, he decided to visit the dealership and call their bluff. He knew he’d be coming home empty-handed. I just hoped he wouldn’t come home driving a new truck. Temptation prowls around car lots like a roaring lion, seeking truck-loving men to devour.
Joe said he was enthusiastically met upon arrival by a salesman who could’ve passed for a member of the Corleone family from “The Godfather.” He definitely wasn’t from these here parts. Joe told this guy straightaway he was there only to uncover the hidden catch in the prize giveaway, but naturally the salesman had to do his thing first. Fortunately, it wasn’t an offer Joe couldn’t refuse.
My husband fended off the pitch and Vinnie (not his real name) the mobster (hopefully not his other job) finally took him to the showroom to compare our entry with the big prize board. Surprise, surprise, the “catch” was revealed and it was deceptive and sneaky, as predicted.
I’m not going to rant, although it did tick me off, but I will offer up this experience as an all-too-familiar example of the kind of deception that is rampant in our world. Lying, false advertising, bait-and-switch gimmicks, ulterior motives, broken promises—we see examples every day.
Back when Joe and I had time and energy for such pointless activities, we endured several torturous timeshare sales spiels just to claim “wonderful prizes” that always turned out to be useless items like a five-dollar plastic camera or set of cheap faux “gold” flatware.
We don’t respond to those timeshare mailings anymore, especially after the last sales guy went and got two “supervisors” to exert a little extra pressure on us. We got a free weekend in Hilton Head out of it but concluded nothing was worth that kind of arm-twisting.
I’ve been in situations and services where it seemed like people were trying to “sell” Jesus using some of these same high-pressure, and even deceptive, methods. Before I got serious about following Christ, I was very sensitive to what I perceived as Christian “sales pitches” and ran as fast and as far as I could from them. I actually remember pretending I wasn’t home to avoid talking to students from a Christian organization who were going door to door evangelizing in my college dorm.
“Hide! It’s the Navigators!” I remember my roommate shouting, as she ran in the room and slammed the door.
I now appreciate groups and individuals who have a passion for sharing the love and Gospel of Jesus, but it wasn’t until I saw Christianity consistently and genuinely lived out in front of me that I stopped running from it. I became friends with a tennis teammate who didn’t preach at me, but unashamedly lived out her relationship with Jesus in a way that made me want to know Him that way. I started asking questions and my friend’s patient, gentle, honest answers led me to Him.
I pray that as you read my columns, you never feel like I’m twisting any spiritual arms or getting ready to boot you out the door with a cheap set of flatware if you don’t agree with me.
I have only words to use here, but for the record, I know Jesus doesn’t need to be sold—He needs to be seen.