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It was a sultry summer day, and our family had just returned home from a week-and-a-half of much appreciated rest and relaxation in the mountains of northwest Georgia. We pulled into the driveway, and as the kids piled out of the car, I called out, "Everyone take in at least one thing as you go!" I hit the button on the remote for the garage door and climbed out of the car. Before the garage door had fully opened, we heard the phone ring.

"Take a message, and tell them we'll call back," Teri, my wife, said to our oldest daughter, trying to spare me the last few hours of vacation. But my daughter was back within seconds saying, "It's Dave Anderson, and he needs to talk to Dad. He said it's very important, and he sounds real upset."

Again Teri covered for me: "I'll take it. You finish unpacking." But she returned shortly with one of those looks that suggested something was wrong. "Dave sounds really bad, like he's been crying. Just go. The girls and I will finish here."

As I drove the five miles to Dave's house, I wondered what could be wrong. Dave was a well-respected board member, our church treasurer, and not the type to call me frivolously. Ours is a small church—about 135 members—and I knew about almost every problem there was to know.

I ran down a mental list of the usual "I-need-to-see-you-right-away-Pastor" sorts of problems that I had encountered in more than a dozen years of ministry, but none seemed likely. Dave's marriage was rock solid, his kids were married with families of their own, his health and that of his wife seemed good. I was still puzzled when I rang his doorbell.

Dave and his wife, Cheryl, met me at the door. Their eyes were red. They spoke very softly, as if normal tones of voice required too much effort. They looked away from my gaze and ushered me into the living room to sit down. I felt like I was visiting a family that had just been informed of a tragic death. I prayed even though I had no idea what to expect.

Dave broke the uneasy silence: "For the past several years, I've been taking money from church funds to get my business through some rough times."

Dave owned a boat store, and we had often prayed for his business. His whole body shook with sobs as he continued.

"For some time now," Dave said, "I have been facing bankruptcy. My business is in debt. I even tried selling it, but there's no market.

"I intended to repay the funds as business picked up, but things have only gotten worse. Oh, Pastor, I have sinned terribly, and I don't know how God or anyone else can forgive me!"

Both Dave and Cheryl were in tears. I felt uncomfortable pressing for more details, but I had to ask, "How much money are we talking here?"

He said flatly, "At the worst point about $145,000, but some of that I've already returned. The church is still short $115,000." My stomach sank.

Trying to absorb this, I looked to Cheryl and asked, "How long have you known?"

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