I'm cheap. That's the reason I found myself sitting across the table from a man pretending to be interested in my life, my career, and my family. That'’s the reason I had to put up with the sales manager awkwardly trying to connect with me by telling me I could use the purchase as a tax write-off. It was a good deal for me since I was (shhh) a pastor. They did everything right. We were offered drinks, snacks, whatever. And despite what you may be thinking, this was not a used (excuse me, "pre-owned"”) car dealership. There are a plethora of used car salesmen out there, so many, in fact, that there aren't enough used car dealerships to employ them. Consequently, the unemployed used car salesmen have had to find other work that suits their natural gifts and talents. One type of these used-car-salesmen-employers doesn'’t sell used cars; they don't sale automobiles at all. They don'’t even deal with transportation. Rather, they sale vacations. Anyone who meets their income requirements has received phone calls from them. For me and my family, the most recent was a phone call offering me a chance to win a car. I only had to drive three hours and listen to their sales pitch in order to see if my key fit the car! When I said it was too far to drive, they offered to give me gas vouchers, a free four-day vacation, matching watches, and an additional bonus six-day vacation. Like I said, I'm cheap. And that's why I was sitting across the table from this salesman who was pretending to like me.
Even though I felt degraded, I smiled. When the salesmen left us to talk about their offer, my wife and I laughed. The joke was on them. We had the better hand. We knew their scheme. We knew they only liked us because they wanted us to buy their $5,000 vacation offer.
That got me thinking: Have I ever been a used car salesman? Have I ever pretended to like someone so that they would buy something? Have I ever been a fake friend in order to sale my wares? Sure I have. As it turns out, pastors are used car salesmen. We have turned in our factory invoices for Bibles and our polyester suits for big hair, but the change in appearance can'’t change the fact that we are still preying Pinto-pushers.
Even worse, we have trained our parishioners to do the same. We have trained them to make friends with "outsiders" in order to convince them to "buy into" or "invest" in the Gospel. Sure, I agree that what we are selling is far superior to an old Gremlin or even a Viper, but that doesn't change the fact that we are degrading the customer (er...…friend). It doesn't change the fact that we are pretending to care only because we have something they need to buy. Call it “friendship evangelism;" call it “winning the right to be heard;" call it whatever you want. It may be relational, but it's an insincere relationship. "Now hold on," you might say. “I sincerely care about this person.” But I would ask you what happens when the person you have befriended repeatedly decides not to live for Jesus. What then? Is there a point where you stop going to ballgames with that person? Is there a point where you stop wasting your money on having that person over for dinner? Is there a point where you stop being their friend? I have...plenty of times. I have given up and moved on to people that are easier sales. Now I'm not suggesting we stop talking about Jesus in our relationships with people who aren'’t following him. But I am suggesting we stop befriending people just to "get '‘em saved."” What would happen if we really loved people and befriended them, not to "win the right to be heard,"” but to simply be their friend? What would happen if we started buying coffee for people simply for the sake of the conversation?
When the salesmen returned to our table, we told them that we were not interested. They proved us right. They stopped caring about us and moved on to the next sale. We could see it, and so can our friends.
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