Skip to main content

"IF I WERE A SALESMAN" Selling What’s Already Free!!!

If I were a salesman—let’s say, selling luxury car or the latest phone—I’d be all in. Smiling wide, shaking hands, wearing that irritatingly bright blazer, I’d pitch the product like my life depended on it. Why? Because there’s commission, perks, and prestige. A sale is a step up. Every “yes” is a personal triumph. And if I get to the top of the leaderboard? Champagne and applause!

Now switch scenes.

Baptism. I was signed up—commissioned, even—to proclaim the Kingdom of God. But here’s the funny part: No blazer. No mic. No crowd. No “Employee of the Month” board at church. Just… silence. And yet, the reward? Eternal life, joy that doesn’t expire, peace that politicians can’t trademark, and love that doesn’t need a subscription.

And still, I hesitate.

In John 16:12–15, Jesus says something radical: “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth.” It's like getting a top-notch marketing strategist thrown in—free. But we ignore Him. Because let’s face it—proclaiming the Kingdom doesn’t come with a bonus check. We want instant results, five-star ratings. But the Kingdom? It’s slow, organic, and disturbingly people-focused.

Meanwhile, world leaders play Monopoly with real countries. Politicians accumulate power like dragon hoards. The rest? Decimated—by war, lies, or policy. There's little time for accompanying or uplifting. Who uplifts anymore? It's all about uploads and upgrades.

And yet, here I am. Baptized. Branded for Christ. A salesman with the best product: a Kingdom that’s already paid for in full. But I hoard it like it’s mine. I don’t want to share. Because what if I give, and they get more joy than me?

If only I hustled for the Gospel like I would for a raise.

What would happen if we all promoted the Kingdom the way CEOs pitch stocks?

Maybe the world wouldn’t look so crazy.

Maybe… we’d finally start living the Kingdom—here, now.

Not just selling it.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Finding What’s Truly Lost

When we lose our keys or a precious belonging, many of us instinctively whisper a prayer to St. Anthony of Padua. But beyond helping us find lost items, perhaps St. Anthony is gently guiding us to find what we’ve really misplaced—our gaze on Jesus. Born Fernando in Lisbon in 1195, St. Anthony’s life was not charted by grand ambition but by deep surrender. Much like the prophet Jeremiah, who trembled when called to speak (“Ah, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth.” – Jer 1:6), Anthony, too, was initially hidden in humility. His first public preaching came unexpectedly in 1222 when no one else volunteered. Out of the blue, the Holy Spirit stirred. And Anthony, like Jeremiah, opened his mouth—and fire came out. That moment defined a man whose heart was already aflame with divine love. His brilliance as a preacher, teacher, and miracle-worker wasn’t rooted in ego but in surrender. Pope Pius XII rightly called him the “Evangelical Doctor,” not beca...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Tongue of Fire for Me (A Pentecost Imagination)

The room is dim, quiet, and heavy with breathless anticipation. I am there—hidden among the disciples, tucked behind John, near the window that barely lets in the morning light. My heart beats fast, echoing like a drum in my chest. Fear? Maybe. Or perhaps, a holy kind of longing. The air is still, but charged. Every face carries the wear of grief and confusion, yet strangely, an ember of hope. “He told us to wait,” Peter whispers, more to himself than anyone. And so, we wait. And then… it happens. A sound roars through the room— not of this world —a wind without warning. It’s not cold, not warm, just… alive. My hair lifts. My lungs gasp. The walls tremble, but no one runs. We are too stunned, too caught in the awe of it. And then—flames. Not flames that consume, but flames that choose. One by one, they rest on each head, as if kissing us awake. I feel something stir above me, and then… it touches me too. Fire. But it doesn’t burn. It ignites . Something ancient yet utte...
Post a Comment
Read more