For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and by craving it, some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs. —1 Timothy 6:10
I was home for Thanksgiving a few months into my sophomore year in college and was approached by an accountant, the father of a friend of mine. He introduced me to a money-making scheme involving two United States Savings Bonds and a chain letter. It carried an investment of seventy-five dollars, but if I got involved and everything went according to plan, I could put a slick million dollars in my pocket in a short time. I loved the sound of that.
Since Frank was a CPA, I figured it must be legitimate. I wrote him a check for the amount he had paid for the bonds and took two letters back to school with me.
The documents sat on the bookshelf above my desk for two weeks. I wasn’t sure if I should turn this thing loose on my campus, but the lure of all that cash was powerful. I’ll give 20 percent to mission work, I rationalized. So I found two willing classmates, explained the scheme to them, and had them racing to their rooms for the money. In a short time, the letter exploded on campus.
Three days later, I received a phone call from Sam Delcamp, the dean of students. “It has come to my attention that you have started a chain letter on campus, Mr. Wolgemuth.” “Uh, well, sir, I sold two such letters,” I stammered, my heart now pounding in my throat. “But I didn’t actually start the letter.” He wasn’t listening.
“At last count, Mr. Wolgemuth, three hundred Taylor University men are involved. This letter must stop. Right now.” The conversation ended as quickly as it had started.
Less than twenty-four hours later, I was in Dr. Delcamp’s office. “Yesterday, I asked that this letter be stopped,” he said seriously. “Not only has it not stopped,” he continued, “but the letter has spread to every university within a fifty-mile radius of our campus. I have spoken with most of the college deans in the state already today.” He paused. I braced myself. “Mr. Wolgemuth, if I hear of just one more letter exchanging hands on this campus, you will be sent home immediately.”
I walked back to my room, picked up a small spiral notebook, and went down to Room 101. When the guys answered the door, I asked if they had bought into the chain letter. If they had, I wrote their name down, asked if they were out any money, and wrote the amount down next to their name. Then I told them the dean had ordered that no more letters be sold, but I said I would do what I could to “pay them for their loss.” Then I moved to room 102, and so on, until I had covered every dorm room on campus.
It was almost midnight by the time I got back to my room, collapsing on the bed in a pile of sheer exhaustion. Thankfully, the letters stopped selling, and I got to finish the semester. At the end of the following summer’s construction work, I went through the list I had made and wrote dozens of checks. My lesson cost me exactly $2,200. But looking back, it was worth a lot more.
“If you love money,” the apostle Paul wrote to his young friend, Timothy, “you’ll be planting seeds of evil in your heart. You’ll be asking for trouble.” Instead, take this same affection, and “pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness” (v. 11). What incredible wisdom this is for a young man to hear.
I am grateful for the investment Dr. Delcamp “encouraged” me to make as a nineteen-year-old boy. If the deal looks too good to be true, it probably is. I fell in love with money, a quick buck, and she stood me up, the nasty heartbreaker.