I bought a new car last week. By “new” I mean it’s five years old. But it’s nice, a little more comfortable than the other one we have. The boys love it. My 12 year old found at least twenty-seven things about it that were “awesome.” The older one likes it too, although he’s too cool to say much; however, he’s pleased because he’ll get to drive the older one more often.
I haven’t shown it off because experience has taught me how jealous people in the church get when I have something nice. I am sick to death of hearing the catty little jokes about how much money the preacher is making. I will never listen to another speech about how other people have had it so rough and somehow the money I make now contributed to their hardship back in the depression.
While I’m on the subject, how is it that ministers are judged so harshly by their salaries? They don’t set them. They accept what’s offered, same as any other job.
I actually had a man tell me I shouldn’t have accepted a raise because I they already paid me so much money (trust me, it wasn’t so much). As a matter of fact, I have turned down several raises for the sake of the church’s financial welfare. And I’ve never, ever asked for one.
I heard the resentment from the very beginning when little old ladies resented the fifty dollars a week I was paid for youth ministry—they thought I should have done it for free.
So I’ll enjoy my new car quietly and let it dawn on them slowly that I have it.