Betting on Longshots

Some years ago, a church member asked me to visit a friend of hers – a used car salesman – who had been diagnosed with cancer. It was a bad cancer, too. She warned me that “Bill” was not easy to talk to and had a bad attitude toward church and religion. In fact, she said, he was one of the toughest, least spiritual people she’d ever met, but she loved him and wanted very badly for him to get to know Jesus.

So I went to see him. When we sat down to talk, the first thing Bill said was, “I’ve never had much use for preachers.”

You know, some people say things like that and don’t realize they are being offensive. They’re sort of socially disadvantaged. They don’t know any better. Bill wasn’t like that. He knew exactly what he was saying. My thought was that he was testing me to see how I’d respond.

So I said, “Well, Bill, you and I have something in common. I don’t like most preachers either. And I’ve never had much use for car salesmen.”

He laughed out loud and from then on our conversations were much more congenial.

I’ll tell you more about Bill in a bit, but I bet you know someone like him. When you think about longshots for conversion, that’s who comes to mind. They don’t want to have anything to do with religion or religious people. Maybe theirs is an intellectual skepticism or even outright disbelief. Maybe they had some bad experiences with Christians. Or maybe they are still on the fun side of sin (and let’s be honest – for a season, sin is fun) and don’t want to give it up. But for whatever reasons, their turning to Christ is a longshot.

By the way, if no one is comes to mind, it could be because you have become too insulated in a Christian subculture. Maybe you need to develop some relationships with people who are less like you. It would be good for both of you. And you might be surprised at what happens.

That’s because God seems to enjoy turning longshots into sure things. Saul, for example. He was the church’s public enemy number one, waging his own little personal jihad against Christians. He ends up becoming Christianity’s most ardent supporter, it’s most articulate spokesman and it’s most influential theologian.

Abraham was well into his 80’s, married to a woman nearly as old and they had no children. Yet God chose him to become the father of the nation of Israel.

Moses was born a slave, became a murderer and a fugitive and had a speech impediment. Yet God chose him to lead Israel out of Egypt.

David was the youngest son in an uninspiring family which held membership in the smallest tribe. Yet God chose him to be Israel’s greatest king.

Amos was neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but he became a mouthpiece for God.

And Jesus selected twelve of the most unlikely men to be his apostles. There are people we’d never consider as candidates for faith in Jesus or leadership in the Kingdom – because they are too mean or sinful or skeptical or unqualified – yet those seem to be exactly the kind of people God has always chosen. Kind of makes you want to repent from profiling people out as longshots.

People like Bill, the cancer-stricken used car salesman who didn’t have much use for preachers.

Bill and I met several times and all I did was tell him stories from the gospels about Jesus. On one of our later visits, he said, “Well, I guess this Jesus stuff makes sense. But it’s too late for me. I’ve got maybe a month left. I’m too far gone.”

So I told him one more story. A vineyard owner hired some guys at daybreak to work in his vineyard and told them how much he’d pay. Then he hired some more guys at nine, noon and three o’clock and offered them the same deal. Then, at five in the afternoon, he hired some more guys for the same pay. When it came time to settle up, the vineyard owner paid the last guys hired before anyone else. Then he paid those hired at three, noon and nine. And finally, those who had been working all day long. And he paid them all exactly the same amount.

Bill said, “That’s not fair.”

I said, “That’s what the guys hired first said. But the owner of the vineyard told them, ‘Look, I paid you what we agreed on. And I want to pay the guys hired last the same as I pay you.’ Bill, he’s still hiring even at this late hour. And the pay’s the same.”

Bill was baptized a few days later. And a few days after that, he died.

And then he met the owner of the vineyard – who always bets on longshots.

If you know a longshot, don’t give up on them just yet. And if you are one, God hasn’t given up on you.