The Last Words That Broke Chuck Missler — and Should Break You
You were bought with a price; do not become slaves of men.
— 1 Corinthians 7:23
Most Christians read that verse, nod piously, and then spend the next forty-five years climbing corporate ladders, padding 401(k)s, and building personal kingdoms that belong to shareholders and CEOs.
We call it “providing for our family.”
The New Testament calls it slavery.
Chuck Missler knew both kinds of slavery.
For three decades he wore the golden handcuffs: U.S. Naval Academy, Branch Chief of Guided Missiles for the Department of Defense, CEO of multiple Fortune 500 tech companies, board member, private jets, seven-figure net worth. He was the dream the world sells young men.
Then one Soviet business deal collapsed. Overnight he lost everything — houses, cars, savings, reputation. Bankruptcy. Ruin.
And in the ashes, the Lord finally got the man He had purchased on Calvary.
From that wreckage rose Koinonia House, verse-by-verse Bible teaching that has fed millions. But toward the end of his life, Missler’s voice would often crack when he spoke to young people. You can still hear it on old recordings:
“I spent the prime years of my life — my energy, my intellect — building things that have zero eternal value. I wish with all my heart I had given my youth to the Lord instead of the corporate world. If I had those years back I would spend every single day in the Word and on my knees… Don’t do what I did. Give Him your twenties and thirties while you still have them. I got in at the eleventh hour. You don’t have to.”
He wasn’t the only giant who died with tears in his eyes.
David Wilkerson stood on the platform of Times Square Church sobbing:
“I pastored a large church, wrote best-selling books, traveled the world… and I’m afraid much of it was for me. Don’t waste your life.”
Leonard Ravenhill, voice trembling before a room of pastors:
“We’re all prostitutes… entertainers, not prophets. Oh God, have we wasted it all?”
A.W. Tozer on his deathbed:
“I’ve spent too much time writing books that made me famous instead of being alone with God.”
Keith Green, dead at 28, had already screamed from stages:
“The only difference between most pastors and the world is we do it on Sundays and call it church!”
Paris Reidhead, after years as a “successful” missionary:
“I discovered I was doing it so tribes would be civilized humanists… not for the glory of the Lamb. I was a thief and a robber.”
These were not obscure radicals. These are the men whose tapes and books sit on your shelf right now.
And every single one of them reached the finish line (or close to it) and looked back at the “successful Christian life” the church celebrates — big ministry, big salary, big platform — and saw wood, hay, and straw ready for the fire.
They all said the same thing with tears:
I wish I had lived as a slave of Christ from the beginning.
Because that is the only identity Scripture gives the believer: doulos Christou — slave of Christ.
Every other master is forbidden.
Yet the average evangelical church now preaches “dream big,” “discover your purpose,” “monetize your passion,” “build your brand for Jesus” — the exact message Disney and Silicon Valley give the world.
We have equated the American Dream with the Gospel, and we are vexed in our righteous souls every day like righteous Lot who chose the well-watered plain and ended up in Sodom.
The broad road really is broad.
Mortgage payments, college funds, and senior pastor salaries all depend on no one asking the question Paul asked in 1 Corinthians 7.
So the question is no longer theoretical.
Whose slave are you right now — today — with the years you still have left?
The Master you fear losing is the master you serve.
If the thought of walking away from the career, the income stream, the retirement plan, the respect of family and church friends terrifies you more than the thought of standing before Christ with a lifetime of wasted strength… you already have your answer.
Chuck Missler got the answer at 50 when God took everything away.
David Wilkerson got it in his seventies when the Holy Spirit broke him on stage.
You do not have to wait that long.
The years are short.
The harvest is great.
The workers are playing golf and scrolling Instagram.
Listen to the tremor in Chuck Missler’s voice when he pleads with the young:
“Give Him your youth while it is still called today.”
He is not in the ground begging you to be weird.
He is home with the Master he finally served full-time — and from that vantage point he sees clearly what most of us still cannot.
Do not waste your life.
There is only one life that will soon be past.
Only what is done as a slave of Christ will last.
Repent.
Resign if you must.
Downsize.
Move.
Give away.
Pray until you break.
Find the hidden remnant who still believe Jesus when He said, “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.”
The eleventh hour is still open.
But the night comes when no man can work.
Don’t make the dead giants weep for you too.
Let that sentence haunt you until you change everything.
Because one day — sooner than you think — you will wish it too…
or you will rejoice forever that someone warned you while there was still time.
Choose this day whom you will serve.