When we first moved to Auburn, Indiana, I thought I might need a few windows opened to the wider world – not that Auburn, Indiana, isn’t a pretty wide world – so I subscribed to some of the national newspapers in addition to the DeKalb County Star. Among the papers to which I subscribed was the Washington Post. They gave me a decent deal at $40 for the first year.  I knew the subscription would go to $100 per year after the first year, and that I would need to be vigilant about the auto-renew program in which they had enrolled me.

The Washington Post, as you may know, is owned by Jeff Bezos of Amazon, who also flies into space in his own Blue Origin spaceships.

While I was glad to be able to get past the Post’s paywall for an occasional news article or opinion piece, Jeff Bezos’ paper did not offer the clear view of the world I hoped it might, so I declined to re-up for the second year, especially at the $100 price tag. As soon as I clicked the “no thank you” button on the renewal site, a pop-up appeared telling me they would be happy to have me back for the same $40 I had been paying all along. Well, first, even at $40, I had not found the subscription all that worthwhile, and, secondly, it occurred to me that they were quite the scoundrels. They were dishonest. They would have been more than willing to take my $100 had I been willing to pay it. Only after I innocently said “no” did they offer me the deal they would have been willing to make all along.  I don’t like bartering with street vendors at tourist sites, and I did not want to barter with the third richest person in the world over a newspaper subscription.

Though I missed getting past the Post’s paywall for an occasional new article or opinion piece, I did not at all regret my non-renewal decision. I figured I’d have to let democracy die in darkness. But then out of the blue I received an email from Jeff Bezos or one of his employees at the Post. They would love to have me back as a subscriber. So eager were they to see me again, in fact, they offered me an entire year’s access to the paper for just $10. Of course, the subscription would go back to $100 per year after twelve months.

Jeff Bezos and his crew are still scoundrels, but for less than three cents a day, I took the bait. After all, I still have that $5 silk tie from a street vendor in Rome. Memo to self: cancel the subscription before it auto renews. Bezos isn’t going to space on my dime.

I get the game we are playing. They are betting on me forgetting to cancel the auto-renew, and I’m thinking I’ll catch it before they’ve got me. I’ve been a winner and a loser in this game over the years. Jeff Bezos has not become the third richest person in the world by losing very often. He’s a formidable opponent.

Many if not most marketing schemes are built on some form of deception. Your teeth won’t be as white as promised, the movie will not be as exciting as the trailer, the deal will not be as good as it gets. As they say, the house always wins.

“There’s a sucker born every minute,” P.T. Barnum probably did not say.

The cost of discipleship is always high. Self-denial, selling riches, taking up a cross. When would-be followers tried to barter a bit, to strike a better deal – just a day to say goodbye to friends, or a few weeks to attend to urgent family business – Jesus said, “Sorry, no deal. Follow me.”
We don’t barter with Jesus.

Unlike with a digital newspaper subscription, there are no new-believer discounts in the Kingdom of God. There are no special deals to lure back those threatening to deconstruct their faith.  The cost is fixed. Everything.

But there is no deception with the gospel. We really do receive life and have it abundantly. Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness really are satisfied.  Those who visit the sick and feed the hungry really are invited to inherit the kingdom. If anyone is in Christ, that person really is a new creation.

There’s a story in the Washington Post this week on the lessons we can learn from Kanye West and Ben Affleck about creepy vs. cringe. Sorry, it’s behind a paywall.

The gospel is not behind a paywall, neither is it creepy or cringe-worthy. But the cost of discipleship is high and there are no discounts.