And another thing. We’re making lists. Maddie’s returning to college next week. Rhys is coming home for a while the week after that. We’re heading to Tennessee to work on the house and try to get it into a condition that it could be sold, or at least viewed. La Donna is finishing up the course she’s been teaching at IUPUI, online, graduate level and it’s crunch time. I’m still trying to catch up from being gone a few weeks this summer dealing with mom’s death and then dad’s needs. I’m feeling way behind, to say the least. I suddenly remember something I was supposed to do and panic and write it down so I don’t continue to forget. Or forget again. I add it to the list.
We’ve got lists. And add to them all the time. Rarely take things away. Oh, once in a while we accomplish something that we can check off. But mostly it is add to, revise, start new lists. It gets overwhelming. And each new addition feels like an added burden, another load to carry, another expectation to fulfill. Running away sounds like a good option some days.
We feel weighed down. Burdened, with expectation and the unexpected. Every knock at the door brings a sinking feeling that something else will need to be done. I got home from a quick trip to see dad in Frankfort, that heaviness of heart that while we are doing what needs to be done, still feels like it should have been different, it should have been easier. But no sooner did I arrive home and start to gather things from my car, Maddie appeared at the door. “You just missed a call. An emergency. Someone needs help.”
Luke 12:32-40 "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 33 Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. 35 "Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; 36 be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. 37 Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. 38 If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. 39 "But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40 You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour."
Jesus is aware of our burdens. Sometimes He just wants us to relax a bit. “Come to me,” remember that one? Oh how we love that verse. Rest, yes please Jesus, give us some rest. Except the rest he is talking about isn’t what we have in mind. It’s clearer in these verses from Luke’s Gospel. “Don’t be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Great! Give it to us! Hand it over, make it easy, lay it on us. We’ll unwrap it like a present from under the tree. Give us the kingdom of rest. Of joy and of pleasure. Our heart’s desire. Hand it over. Now. C’mon Jesus. You said it was God’s good pleasure to give it, so give it. We want God to have a little pleasure.
Yeah, it doesn’t happen like that. It doesn’t just get handed to us. No matter how many sinner’s prayers we pray. No matter how many faith seeds we plant in someone’s pocket. It doesn’t? No. Oh, I see, we’ve got to work for it. We’ve got to earn it, or be worthy of it. It’s one of those tricks, promise them something free and then show how much it costs. Bait and switch, fine print, hidden fees. That sort of thing. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Suckered by Jesus again.
No, that’s not it either. This isn’t about earning something. We couldn’t pay enough to earn our way into the kingdom of God, it’s beyond our means. Nor is this about being worthy. We can’t make ourselves worthy of anything. But we are made worthy by the sacrifice of Christ. So, we are already worthy. There are no hidden fees, no shipping and handling, no sales tax. Because it isn’t a thing. The kingdom that it is God’s good pleasure to give us isn’t a thing. You can’t wrap it up and put it under the tree. You can’t hand it over. It is something entirely different.
A couple of months ago we gathered on a sunny hot Sunday morning in the quadrangle of DePauw University to watch our son Rhys graduate with his bachelor’s degree in History and Political Science. It was a proud moment, a moving moment. All the requisite memories flooded through our minds and hearts as we sat and watched him stride across the platform and receive his degree. And the president, who was on his way to a new station, making this his last graduation on this campus, seemed to enjoy handing it over. It was his good pleasure to give those degrees. A beautiful moment.
But wait. What was given in that moment? What was handed over to each graduate as they made their way across, some somber and sober, some giddy and enthusiastic? But what did they get? A degree? No, they got a symbol, a piece of paper with some writing on it. They got the word, they didn’t get the degree. They didn’t get the kingdom. A degree isn’t something you can hand over. It is something you experience, something you learn to live into, something you grow into. What we watched was the recognition that Rhys and all his classmates had found themselves in relationship with a body of knowledge and a way of seeing the world around them and now were ready to go and live in the implications of that relationship. Sure, some of them had a firmer grasp on the relationship with their degree than others. Sure, some will walk away from all they had gained and it will be as if it never really happened. Yet others will live out this transformed life that they had claimed.
This is the kingdom. It is more relationship, more experience, more a way of seeing and being than it is a thing that can be handed over or a destination that can be arrived at. God wants us, desperately wants us to have it, to live it, to claim it as our own identity. But it can’t be shoved in our pockets or deposited in our accounts. So Jesus wants to help us. Like the professors that shepherded the undergrads for four years, Jesus wants to draw us pictures and tell us stories until we begin to get a glimpse of what is on offer. Until we catch the vision, adjust our seeing, our living, our wanting.
So, here’s a tip, give it away. It? What it? All of it, Jesus seems to be saying. All of it. Just give it away. Well, um, next option? OK, how about this, live in relation to your stuff as though it didn’t matter so much. As if it didn’t define you, become you so much. A little more take it or leave it, and little less gotta have it. Hold all that you own in an open hand, as if letting it slip through your fingers wouldn’t be all that bad. As if you could give it away and still be you. Still be content.
On the other hand, hold tightly to the things that matter. To relationships and covenants, to love and joy and living in the moment, being present with those you love, not distracted by the stuff that weighs you down. Pile up those treasures and begin to live. Treasure people, treasure moments, treasure laughter and joy, vulnerable hearts and firm handshakes, hugs and kisses. Treasure them, with your heart.
Because one day... One day what? One day everything will change. In the blink of an eye. In the beat of a heart. One day everything will change. Those you love. You. Everything. And we can live in fear of that. Many do. Or we can live treasuring each moment, and discover something amazing. Grace will apron up and serve you when you least expect it! That’s the bonus, the icing on this cake. See, you think you have to work, you have to earn it. You think it is on your shoulders, like all the other responsibilities on your list. But it’s God who serves, grace abounds, joy breaks out. It’ll happen, Jesus says, watch for it. Watch for it. God can’t wait to serve you. Yes, you.
Shalom,
Derek
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