Catching a Glimpse of the Pearl

Turning to me, the CEO revealed his fear of sharing his values and beliefs with his employees. "Are you familiar with the Found Out Theory?" he asked. "It's the fear that one's true self—particularly one's faith—will be exposed." Our vulnerability rises from fear—fear of being labeled or being libeled, losing our reputation or losing our finances.

I understood that CEO's fear. I believed revealing my faith in Christ would hurt me professionally. And then Monty came along.

As the ultimate Bible teacher and mentor, Monty didn't just teach me, he revealed the living Christ. I remember the day I reached my breaking point; a culmination of years of rejection by publishers. We were having lunch in Monty's office when I broke down crying as I told him of my decision to abandon my four-year attempt to publish God Is My CEO. With tears in his eyes, Monty hugged me and then, with confidence in his voice, read from his worn Bible and encouraged me to fan into flame the gift of God that was in me. Monty poured God's truth into me until I felt I could make a difference simply by being who God made me to be.

Monty taught that relationships, not dollars, are life's true currency. Three hundred of Monty's students, mentees, and friends came to his memorial service. It was there I discovered that without fail, when Monty had made a difference in a life, that person went on to make a difference in another life.

Chris, a high school drop-out who Monty encouraged until he became a successful pastor, shared, "Monty acted like I was the most important person on earth. He believed in me when I didn't believe in myself."

Ward, a self-proclaimed self-serving insurance salesman, became a defender of the poor in Africa. Ward shared, "When the whole world seemed to laugh at my dreams, Monty embraced them, fueled them with prayer, and then relentlessly held me accountable to the kingdom for their completion."

Charles, another of Monty's students, explained, "In life, there are role models and heroes. Role models are emulated for what they do well, while heroes are admired for who they are. Monty was more than a role model; he was a hero. Like everyone else, he had doubts, fears, and discouragements as he battled cancer, heart issues, and Parkinson's disease, but he never allowed them to be relevant in the purpose God had for his life. Monty always said, "What God permits, I thankfully accept." I experienced an unmistakable freedom and joy in the man; I caught a glimpse of the heart and spirit of Jesus—the pearl (Matt. 13:46). I don't seek to emulate what Monty accomplished, but what he found that gave him the freedom to become who he was. I want that pearl!

Perhaps the greatest gift you can give is to let others see the pearl inside you. When you allow God room to be significant in your life—through your love, attitudes, behaviors, and actions—you create a path for him to be significant in others' lives. That's why your life is so important. You don't need to change the world and do great things for God. Let God help you be a good husband, wife, parent, friend, leader, or coworker. The world is starved for the pearl that is within you!

Your life as an expression of your faith, even with your blemishes and faults, has an impact on the world around you. One of Monty's students had been out of work for a long time. Despite discouragement and bouts of depression, he went to one job interview after another. During this same time period, his teenage daughter was battling bulimia. When her dad later asked how she overcame bulimia, she reflected, "I watched you when you were totally discouraged. I knew that if you could do it, so could I."

Don't allow your blemishes to diminish God's blessings. Expose them as an expression of your faith. Ephesians 2:10 says, "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." You may see a flawed person; God sees a masterpiece. Let who you are speak for what you believe. Through your transparency, God will transform lives.