Above the fireplace in our home is this framed, three-panel print of the painting Lord, When Did We See You…? by San Antonio artist G. E. Mullan. The picture was a gift to my wife Jennifer and me on the occasion of our first anniversary from my lifetime friend Jeff Vollmer, who was the best man in our wedding.

It’s been a little over 17 years since Jeff gave us that gift, and in that time it’s always hung either in our bedroom or living room in the numerous residences we’ve occupied. Getting married while I was still in school and then trying to find a place of ministry where we could put down some roots has made for a vagabond existence, at times.

If you look very closely at the picture, starting in the upper left hand corner of the canvas, you can see the text of Matthew 25:34-40 running along the edge of the painting:

Then the King will speak to those on his right. He will say, ‘My Father has blessed you. Come and take what is yours. It is the kingdom prepared for you since the world was created. I was hungry. And you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty. And you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger. And you invited me in. I needed clothes. And you gave them to me. I was sick. And you took care of me. I was in prison. And you came to visit me.’ Then the people who have done what is right will answer him. ‘Lord,’ they will ask, ‘when did we see you hungry and feed you? When did we see you thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you as a stranger and invite you in? When did we see you needing clothes and give them to you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘What I’m about to tell you is true. Anything you did for one of the least important of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

When you make the connection between the text and the painting, you understand Mullan intended it to be a calculated epiphany. Life should imitate art.

Lord, When Did We See You…? represents everything I know God has called me to do as a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For anyone seeking to live a life of discipleship in obedience to the Gospel, the text that inspired this beautiful work is one of the Scriptures that form the biblical basis for such a life - as basic as John 3:16 or The 23rd Psalm.

But, there have been times when its presence in our home has been unsettling rather than inspiring. In particular I remember a time 13 years ago, as I was serving my first church as senior pastor, when I was tempted to relegate it to the attic.

My first church had been through 12 straight years of decline before my arrival. The steady decline in members, programs and giving was, for the most part, caused by several layers of deep-rooted systemic dysfunction. There had been at least three major splits with large numbers of families leaving each time - a familiarity with Systems Theory was a definite necessity for anyone who would serve there. Of course, none of the conflict revolved around anything of significance in terms of Christian doctrine or practice.

As the church was losing members, the neighborhood was also changing and had reached a critical tipping point, going from a 90/10 ratio of whites to blacks to a 60/40 split with African-Americans by then in the majority.

Crime was on the rise, property values were dropping, white flight was rampant and four churches, previously located in our community, had set the pace by selling their properties to African-American congregations and relocating to the more affluent more white and less black suburbs.

From my days in bus ministry as a high school kid in San Antonio and the inner city of Chicago as a college student, to the ways I’d been challenged by people like Tony Campolo, Jim Wallis and Ron Sider to read Scripture differently when I was doing youth ministry in my 20’s, answering the call to that church seemed like a natural step of obedience.

When I understood in greater detail the kind of demographic sea change that was going on in that community and how other churches had chosen to leave rather than change with the community, I saw it as a test of our willingness to be obedient to the Gospel rather than take the easy way out.

Unfortunately, a large portion of the church leadership didn’t see it that way.

A short time after our arrival, I convened a long range planning committee to study what options the church should consider. I spent hours on the phone with consultants and other experts from around the country, read the current literature, sought the counsel of other pastors in the area, visited churches that had relocated and some that had chosen to stay, looked at the ever-increasing needs of our community, had a thorough appraisal done of our church property, looked to the Scripture for guidance and did a lot of praying.

The conclusion reached by a majority of people on the long range planning committee was that the church should sell its property and use the proceeds from that sale to relocate the church to the suburbs. When the day came for the church to vote on whether to accept the committee’s recommendation, I presented it to the church and stated that I would not vote for it.

The measure failed to pass – not even getting a simple majority of the congregation’s votes, with the most common comment being “Come up with a better plan.” I was naïve enough to think we would.

When I went by my office one Saturday afternoon about four weeks later, I found several envelopes slipped under my office door. Inside each envelope was a letter of resignation from a key leader in the church, stating that they and their families would not be back.

I wish I could tell you that others stepped up to fill those leadership vacancies and that the church became a witness to the community through its willingness to stay rather than leave, that new members came and that the church grew, breaking out of the downward spiral it had been in for 12 years. It would be nice to be able to say that their departure removed obstacles that the church needed to get past in order to fulfill its mission and calling. But, before long, others left and some of those who stayed were convinced that I should be next.

We held on there for three long years - there were never enough votes to get rid of me, just enough to make me miserable. We made every sacrifice we could to try to make it work but never really developed any sort of traction in terms of ministry. That was one of the loneliest and most miserable times of my life.

Looking back, there are certainly things I would do differently, if given the chance to do them over. I was young and naïve and certainly didn’t walk on water – but there is nothing I could have done, other than compromising the convictions I had then and still have now – in order to create a different outcome. That’s what bothered me the most.

Wasn’t God supposed to grant us success in exchange for our willingness to be faithful? We did what was right, so why wasn’t God keeping up His end of the bargain?

Of course, life and ministry are much more complicated than some sort of simple exchange of sacrifice for success, because obedience isn’t always measured in sacrifice (I. Samuel 15:22). And there are no bargains to be made with God.

If you’re called to the kind of ministry described in Mullan’s painting and Matthew’s Gospel, don’t expect an immediate return on your investment. But don’t despair, either (Galatians 6:9), because the end of the story is full of surprises.

I believe “Lord, when did we see you…?” is a real question that will be asked by genuinely surprised people. Jesus wasn’t just using a rhetorical device to make a point, He was giving us the clearest account of the Last Judgment found anywhere in Scripture.

Be prepared to be surprised.