Jeff Adams

No, not THAT judgment. I’m talking about an IRS audit. The letter came a couple of weeks ago. I knew it was coming, though I knew not the day nor the hour. My contributions, you see, are way beyond the normal profile.

I was a little apprehensive, but not fearful, because this is not the first time. I went through this a couple of years ago. Then, I’ll confess I was a little fearful. No, actually I was in a panic. I’ve seen torture museums in Europe and an Inquisition museum in Peru. My imagination was in overdrive.

When I showed up for that fateful day of reckoning, the access doors were shut and windowless. A phone hung on the wall. I thought this must be where the prisoners were held. I debated with myself, then picked up the phone. No one answered. I thought about making a getaway right then and there, but what if this were a test? I checked for surveillance cameras. I walked down the hall and came back. Before I could escape, the door suddenly opened and an imposing figure stood in the doorway. Well, actually she was a middle-aged woman who asked if she could help me. I told her I had an appointment for an audit, and she looked at me with a blank expression. Looking through my papers, she determined that the person who summoned me to this Great White Throne moment was ill. She would be able, though, to check my records. Great!

“Is this how it would be in the real Day of Judgment,” I thought? She occasionally looked knowingly at me as she shuffled the papers. I could remember seeing that look once in the principal’s office in High School. “OK, let’s see your records.” I laid out my church contribution record and some copies of canceled checks I had retrieved from my bank.

“You write checks for your giving?” She blurted this out so loudly I thought I must have broken several federal laws. “Yeah,” I sheepishly replied.

“Ha! You wouldn’t believe how many pastors tell us they just put cash in the offering plate!” She turned toward the woman in the next cubicle, “Did you hear that? He actually writes checks!” The whole tone of the interview changed. Five minutes later I was out the door. That is probably as close as I have ever come to knowing what Lazarus felt like when they rolled the stone back from the opening of his tomb.

So, this time was much easier as I approached judgment day with a measure of confidence. I’m a meticulous record keeper after all. Besides that, this time I even got to set my own appointment, and the nice lady on the phone gave me detailed instructions on how to find the office and use the phone on the wall. Sure enough, she was just as nice as she sounded. I laid my records on her desk and she made small talk as she added up the figures for the two years in question. It went so well, she even smiled warmly as she pointed out a $1000 addition mistake for one year and asked me for a $200 check for underpayment.

Can anyone see any spiritual lesson or biblical imagery in this?