For what does it benefit a person if he gains the whole world but forfeits his life? Or what can a person give in exchange for his life? (Matthew 16:26)
I played Monopoly with two missionary children in Esztergom, Hungary. Nine-year-old Mario rubbed his hands, then traded properties and money for railroads and hotels.
Several turns later, Mario landed on another player’s square and couldn’t pay the rent. He bowed in silent protest as tears ran down his cheeks.
“I don’t want to mortgage my properties.”
We waited, but Mario refused to budge. His sister, the game banker, picked up his hotels and reconciled his accounts.
I wanted to say, “Those aren’t real hotels or houses, and this is fake money. How can you get so upset over a game?”
My words would’ve been self-incriminating.
Earthly life is not for keeps. My properties and even my family are temporary pieces moving around a game board. Compared to the things of heaven, they are miniature red hotels and plastic green houses. Yet, when I’m faced with a loss, I act like a cry baby. I don’t want to talk to God. I only want what I want. He is forced to take out of my hands what I will not yield.
It’s time to grow up. My existence in Christ operates quite beyond the temporal board on which I’m standing. My health, fortunes, and relationships may all crumble, but as long as I have Jesus, I possess everything. Loss can only hurt me if I let it shake my hold on him. So let the pieces fall where they may, I’ll not cry over a game.
Prayer: Jesus, expose anything I hold more tightly than I hold you.