Transcript
I will pull down my barns and build larger ones. And there I will store all my grain and my goods. Please be seated.
I have to admit I like antiques. I specifically like things that belong to my family for multiple generations. I have a rocking chair that was in the family since the Civil War. An end table from the Victorian era, you know, with the marble top. A secretary, that desk that folds down and has glass front doors, that’s from World War I. And I have fine china from both of my grandmothers. One set is beige and it has the gold trim and the other set is white with a gorgeous purple orchid in the center and silver trim. Many childhood holiday meals were eaten off these different plates.
I remember when I first told my mom I wanted them, her reaction was, “Why? What are you going to do with fine china?” Um, eat off them. Duh.
And I’m sure many of us have that kind of fine china, the kind that spends more time in a cabinet or on display in a glass case than actually holding food. Some of us probably think someday I’ll get that out and use it for fancy dinner party or something like that. And some of us have probably decided that we really should just get rid of the china because we’ve never used it and we’re never going to use it. And yet, for some reason, we still have our China settings. We still keep them stacked in a cabinet, set up on display, laid out for people to look at. What’s the point? What’s the point of storing these things up for a special occasion, for some future event that may or may not come?
In today’s parable, the rich man certainly knows what storing things for later means. In this case, it’s crops, grain, and goods. But for some reason, I feel like they’re all kind of related. You know, fine china and antique furniture and grain and goods. things we store up for later, things we don’t use right now today regularly, things that if we’re not careful can take over our homes and our lives.
After all, this rich man in today’s parable, he had so many crops that he literally was going to pull down his barns and build bigger ones. That’s like one of us saying, “I just have so much stuff that I’m going to go buy a new house with bigger closets.” Also though, how many of us have actually done that in our lives? Gone from that tiny studio apartment to the twobedroom townhouse to the sprawling 5,000 square foot house with four bedrooms and five bathrooms and a threecar garage.
Yes, sometimes the acrual of goods and the consequential growth of ho houses and spaces to store goods is necessary as our families grow with spouses and children and grandchildren. Plus, it can be a sign of success, especially in a culture that is so preoccupied with the idea that more things means more success. And yet, what happens when we no longer need all that, all that space, all that stuff?
The rich man in today’s parable finds out pretty quickly. He literally decides that he has enough stored up that now he can relax, eat, drink, and be married. And yet, at that moment, God calls him home. when I quote, “His life is being demanded of him.”
The storing up of goods, the saving things for that special occasion, the one day mentality, it didn’t work out so much for the rich man. So, what’s the point of even trying to store things up for later, to save things for that special moment, to hold on to things just in case? There’s a concept that’s been circling for a while, and by a while I mean like millennia, that we have a godshaped hole in our hearts. The original concept came from Augustine of Hippo, who in his writing called Confessions, he wrote, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” There’s a piece of each of us missing, like a hole in our hearts. And we so often try to fill it with other things, with things like china or other possessions, with vices like what was written in the epistle to the Colossians that Al just read. Trying to fill that hole in our hearts with distractions that take away from what God is calling us to do and to be. the treasures we are trying to store up in this life which end up shoving out the things that make us rich toward God.
And yet if we put all that aside and focus on God, then that hole in our hearts, the God-shaped hole, it will finally be filled with what belongs there, God. And we will finally be whole. So, what are you storing up for yourselves? What so-called treasures are you trying to desperately shove into that godshaped hole? You know, like that toddler toy with wooden pieces and holes that match their shapes. Is it worth it? Is it treasure that will make you rich toward God?
Treasure like the gifts of the spirit or the virtues of Christianity or the fruits of the spirit. treasures that God has given us that we are called to use, to hold on to, to have in order to honor God, in order to be rich toward God. Treasures like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Treasures like prophecy, ministry, teaching, exhortation, generosity, diligence, compassion, and cheerfulness. treasures like being in relationship with God. The God who provides everything if we just have faith that God will. If we just take away our own need to control, to collect, to have and allow God to give.
To conclude, yes, I’m almost done. I am not saying that you should not plan for the future or that you should give everything away. Although, if you all are planning to give it all away, I know a great church in downtown Hampton that will totally take it. Just saying.
Instead, I’m asking you, are you storing up things for this life because you are too distracted by the things, the newest, the shiniest, the things that make us the envy of all those around us? Or are you storing up things for this life because you are living this life to fully honor God, to fully bring God’s will to the world around us. to be rich towards God, allowing God to fill that God-shaped hole in your heart with God’s unending and invaluable riches.
Just something to think about the next time you choose not to use that fine china. Amen.