We are taking a short time-out from Romans and explore a new series titled, "Greatest Stories Ever Told".  THIS WEEK we will look at a series of incredible stories Jesus told to explain why he hung out with drunks, prostitutes and thieves.  The following is the opening story of Sunday's message . . . 

I hate ultimatums, but sometimes they force you to get off the fence. 

I was less than one year into a church plant in a rural Midwest town.  Church planting sounded glamorous in seminary, but the hard realities became evident quickly.  We had just a handful of believers, and almost no money.  The only facilities were an old abandoned store front with kiddy pools to catch the rain water to protect the thirty year old green carpet.  And believe me, it looked better than it smelled. 

But despite all of the liabilities, people started coming to Christ; broken people, addicted people, robbers, thieves and drunkards.  One man who began faithfully attending was a recent parolee from state prison.  He had been caught stealing livestock from his neighbors over the course of many years.  The community was shocked.  His wife left him and nobody blamed her.  But while in prison he came to Christ and his life began the process of transformation.  When he got out he attended our church, front row, every Sunday.  On one particular Sunday a well-dressed, middle aged couple arrives midway through the service and sits in the back.  The car they drove, the clothes they wore made them stand out that morning.  But when they stood up and walked out before the service even ended, I assumed there must be a problem beyond the green carpet. 

After finding out the identity of our first time guests I decided to pay them a visit.  My first impression had been right; they had assets which our struggling budget desperately needed.  They were well spoken and gracious.  The said they had been invited by some friends and enjoyed the whole service, except for one thing, the thief sitting in the front row.  They went on to explain that he had betrayed their friendship and repeatedly stolen both cattle and hogs from their farming operation.  They assured me they wouldn't be back.  The red faced summarized her position clearly, 'Any church who welcomes a thief like that is not the kind of place I will worship in.'  It was subtle ultimatum, 'him' or 'us', the thief or well-respected families.  Sometimes, it's hard to do both. 

The Sunday school answer sounds good unless the treasurer asks you to hold your check for 'one more offering'.  Honestly, I was thinking survival.  We needed money urgently.  We needed more stable, respectable families yesterday.  We had plenty of 'mess ups' but this family represented what we needed.  In my mind, I could rationalize, 'This recovering thief takes time, takes assets, takes energy.  We've done everything we can for him.  If we don't attract, assimilate, and utilize families like this, we are toast!'  I walked away without an answer.  What could I say?  What would you say?  Over the next weeks, the core leadership of the church struggled over this question, 'What kind of church do we want to be?'  Do we want to be the classy church that the community respects and new residents in town flock to?  Or do we continue on the path of reaching messed up people for Christ? 

This is a question every church has to answer.  And more pointedly, because the church is made of individual believers, this is a question every believer has to answer.  Do we exist as a life saving station for the drowning, or a country club for comfortable Christians?

Pastor Bryan