What
Do We
Give Up?

As I pulled up, I recognized the old building, once a grocery store, then a small cafe, then a flop-house for musician types such as myself. I prayed. Nervously I knocked at the door. A distant street light dimly lit the area and reflected off the snow. He came to the door, expressing no signs of recognition. He had been the keyboard player for our rock group 25 years previously.

Then his eyes widened with surprise, and he said, “Jeff! Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. Come in.”

Entering the small apartment, I well remembered these two back rooms of the old “Lunch Box,” as we used to call it. The reality was far worse than my memory. There was no furniture, only an old black and white striped mattress, which was positioned like a sofa against the wall. Beer bottles were strewn across the counter—one tipped on its side with a small puddle near its mouth. Cigarette butts littered the floor. The place was a mess. It was very apparent—my friend was at the bottom. He explained to me how he had no work at present, as he wasn’t currently playing in a band. He had even had to “hock” his keyboard for some money just to make ends meet. His closest companions were the two big dogs that lived with him in the apartment.

As we began to visit, the conversation turned toward spiritual things. We talked heart to heart, as old friends, for several hours. As the night wore on, it came time to leave. I asked him if we could have prayer together, after which, he gave me a hug and said, “Thanks so much for coming. I was really discouraged, and now you have shed a little hope right when I really needed it the most.”

Soon the snow was crunching under my feet as I made my way to my car. As the engine was warming, I gazed reminiscently at the old “Lunch Box,” and thought through that visit with my friend—how it seemed that God sent me there at the right time.

Then a thought forced its way into my mind. After visiting my friend living in those conditions, and sharing with him the hope of Christ and the prospects of a new life for the future, what if, as I was leaving, my friend looked at me and said: “Jeff, if I understand correctly everything you have just shared with me, in order to become a Christian I will have to give up all of this?” (referring to his current life).

Sounds kind of silly, doesn’t it? But is it any different for you, dear reader? Yes, your life situation may be better than my friend’s, but is God asking you to give up anything of more real value than He was asking my friend to give up? In light of the price that was paid to secure a “new life” for you and me, is God really asking too much of us? How valuable are the things we hold dear when compared to eternity and the sacrifice of Christ?

“But what do we give up, when we give all? A sin-polluted heart, for Jesus to purify, to cleanse by His own blood, and to save by His matchless love. And yet men think it hard to give up all! I am ashamed to hear it spoken of, ashamed to write it.

“God does not require us to give up anything that it is for our best interest to retain. In all that He does, He has the well-being of His children in view. Would that all who have not chosen Christ might realize that He has something vastly better to offer them than they are seeking for themselves. Man is doing the greatest injury and injustice to his own soul when he thinks and acts contrary to the will of God. No real joy can be found in the path forbidden by Him who knows what is best and who plans for the good of His creatures. The path of transgression is the path of misery and destruction.”—Steps to Christ, page 46.