8th Sunday After Pentecost

Luke 12:13-21

I really am trying to make this summer hard on myself apparently.  This again is not the lectionary trio I would have picked for today if given the choice.  We’re outside, we’re welcoming our pet friends, we have a band, it’s a joyful day.  And to make it harder, we only hear half of the Gospel story and so you have to come back next week to hear the rest.  Yet here we are with a trio of texts that are less than joyful and quite frankly a bit depressing because they are unmistakably about facing our own mortality and the legacy we leave behind, voluntarily or not.

For all three texts in series make a point of reminding us that one day, we are all going to die, and well as the old adage says, “You can’t take it with you.”  So the question becomes, What do you want your legacy to be?  First, out of the great wisdom tradition in Ecclesiastes we have the lament from a great king who at the end of a long and successful reign looks around in dismay when he realizes that one day all that he has toiled for and built up will be passed on to others who may or may not use it wisely.

And then, Jesus confronts the same question when he is asked to arbitrate a dispute between two brothers over the family inheritance.  But Jesus refuses, and instead he tells a story.  About a rich man who has a particularly abundant harvest.  So much so that his old barns can no longer hold his riches.  So what does he do?  He tears down his barns and builds bigger ones.  Isn’t it amazing how the more things change the more they stay the same?  This is exactly what so many Americans would think to do, tear it down the old and build it bigger.  Hold on to everything you can for as long as you can.  Make a point of using what you have only for your own enjoyment.  Eat drink and be Merry indeed.

But unfortunately the man seems to have forgotten the other half of the saying.  Which is ironic considering its popularity at the time.  For the whole things goes: “Now Eat Drink and be Merry, for tomorrow we die.”  The danger of accumulating wealth is not in the money itself but in the illusion of control it gives you.  For having a lot of stuff can be very isolating.  It gives us the false idea that we are in control, that we can be self-sufficient, that we no longer need anyone else or even God.  That we are alone in this.  But as Jesus tells us in his parable, that couldn’t be further from the truth.  The man’s wealth didn’t buy him control, it only bought him isolation and in the end he had no more control over his life than a pauper.  Despite what the world may tell us.  He who dies with the most toys does not win.  In the eyes of God, it is relationships that matter, not things.

So what then is our alternative?  Is there another way? You heard the story about the man.  Now let me tell you a very different story, about a remarkable group of people who made a very different choice, and what has happened as a result.  So 3 years ago this week, the last church I served, St Thomas Lutheran Church in Sterling Heights, decided to begin the formal process of closure.  In fact, I preached on this very text, at that service where we started that process.  And it was very hard.  Perhaps most of all because they were not broke.  They had money, lots of money, big barns if you will.  We could have stayed open perhaps another decade or more and just eaten through reserves and the endowment and the proceeds from the sale of the building until every last member was gone.

But our bones were weary and our spirit was restless and yet we dreamed big dreams.  And so those faithful people did something uncommonly brave.  They sold their church building to a rapidly growing Iraqi congregation that better matched the neighborhood demographics, and they took the proceeds and every dime they had left and they gave it away.  And in its place they built and enduring legacy of love and care and passion for the work of the Gospel that will echo for generations.

It only been a couple of years, but Iraqi church in their building now has almost 2000 members and worships 400 people every Sunday with dozens of children and youth of every age.  Meanwhile, St Thomas’s former members joined neighboring churches bolstering those congregations and acting as leaven for new ministries and activities.  And the proceeds from the sale went to support major initiatives and incredibly powerful missional work in their community, around the state and around the world.  In a couple of weeks, Pastor Anna will be here from FedUp.  I am betting one of the things she will share about is WashUp their shower truck ministry.  St Thomas provided the start-up funding for that ministry.  Life giving clean water, dignity, and the love of Christ shared with hundreds of strangers through their sacrifice.  And last week, my boys and I had the privilege of spending the week at Stoney Lake Camp, where a 6 figure donation from St Thomas has ensured that for the last 3 years and hopefully for many years into the future, through Welcome for All Pricing, everyone who wants to go to camp can attend, regardless of their ability to pay.  Hundreds of young people every summer experiencing the love of Christ, young adult counselors getting to step into their first big leadership roles in the church, small churches getting to connect scattered youth with a wider community.  Because St Thomas was brave.  And I could go on and on, the list of gifts they gave and their echoing impacts could fill volumes.

But before you become concerned, let me be very clear.  St George’s is not closing, we are not going anywhere.  Hopefully neither are most of you, at least not for a good long while. Because the point Jesus is making isn’t really about what happens to your stuff when you die, but about what you do while you are alive.  About the legacy you build for future generations while you are still right here.  And that doesn’t require vast fortunes, big barns or piles of money.  What it requires is love.

And so in the end, maybe having pets here among us (later) is the actually the perfect illustration of this text after all.  Because there is something beautiful about a dog.  They, not unlike the lilies of the valley, don’t build barns or store up years’ worth of resources, most seem wondrously unbothered about the future.  And yet they are fiercely loyal and they love generously and unconditionally and they form deep and lasting lifelong relationships of mutuality and care. 

Our secretary Ashley told me she has a sign in her house that says, “Be the person your dog thinks you are”.  And that I think is what Jesus is after here.  Can we make space in our lives to be a little less like the man in the parable and dare I say, a little more like a dog?  To let go a bit of our illusion of control and the false sense of security that hoarding resources can give us and instead to love openly and fiercely and selflessly.  Because none of us knows how many days we have left on this earth and honestly, we have  a lot less say over that than we would probably like to admit, but we do have control over the legacy we leave.  And we all get to decide if it will be one marked by compassion, love and life changing generosity or not.  Amen.