Yesterday was a beautiful day. The weather is typical for summer – hot, but not unbelievably so. It’s what you would want to picture if you were asked in the middle of winter or spring to anticipate this lovely season. Amy and I took Walker and Arthur to the C&O Canal to walk along the towpath to see the Great Falls. The trees were full, and the woods were thick with creatures and birds, bugs and beasts surely nearby but still unseen. 

Yesterday was a good day. Yesterday was the perfect summer day. I’m glad I was able to experience it, to bear witness to it, and today to give thanks for it. It’s too easy for me to miss perfect days like that. Maybe you once failed to savor them, as well.

In the Gospel, what you find in the twelfth chapter is a warning from Jesus, to be on your guard, not to miss what’s important, not to focus on the things that do not matter, not to find yourself unready or unable to hand over everything – your accomplishments, your wealth and security, simply the way you spend your days, your hopes for your future, and your life (everything that is not yours) – everything to the One who gave it to you to experience, to bear witness to, and to give thanks for.

The Gospel is a reminder, a careful and pleading reminder, not to store up anything for yourself, in hopes that you would keep it, not to hoard the gifts that have been given you, not to hold them for some special occasion which may never come your way. The Word of God implores you to see the gift of today, the gift of this moment, and to make the most of it while it is here. We would all do well not to ignore that message, not to hide from it.

There are memories to make and experiences to plan for which I keep delaying, thinking that maybe next year the logistics will be easier. There are hobbies of mine that I have put off while raising children, promising myself I will resume them when they are older. A storage room holds all my supplies, tools, and blank canvases, while no one makes use of them, and for how long? Life is for living; it is not to be taken for granted.

A story comes to mind shared with me by a friend who once served as the associate pastor of a large suburban congregation. She was early in the first appointment of her pastorate, and – compared to the more seasoned and restrained senior minister – she was more outspoken, more direct, and more forthright in her sense of God’s way of justice and peace in the world.

I was lucky to gather together with her regularly to hear her stories. And I remember a repeated complaint from her – that the congregation seemed to be employing her to serve as their collective conscience. Every Sunday, attending worship, making offerings and tithes to the church, supporting the vocation of their pastor, the congregants faithfully followed the famous words recorded in the Book of Micah: to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God (6:8). But my friend worried that her parishioners were substituting her faithfulness for their own. She did the living. They did the listening. She loved the unlovable. They sat in their cushioned pews. What god were the congregants worshipping, who would be satisfied with their inactivity, with their faith by proxy? Jesus asks: “Who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” Would the stranger have answered, honestly, the Lord? Did that stranger really love God? And if so, did that stranger really care about what was best and right for the world and for his family? Or was he just trying to get a second opinion, to appeal a ruling, to win his dispute?

My friend was worried that her congregation was as unconcerned with engaging directly with God as that stranger was, that her parish was living vicariously through her. Rather than risking their own emotional entanglement in the needs of others, rather than confronting the possibility of giving up their comfortable lifestyles, they were content with hearing stories from her about her trips to impoverished nations, her relationships with undocumented immigrants, her embrace of people who were poor or otherwise relegated to the margins of society.

They might have reasoned, if pushed, that their faith was not as big as that of their pastor. They might have argued that God gave them only a single helping of courage, just one ounce of hope, not nearly enough to face the harshness of life and the cruelty of people in the way that their pastor did – every single day.

And that’s fair. Their pastor was and is, indeed, very special. Or else I wouldn’t be telling you about her. But have you ever felt like the congregants in the story? Have you ever thought that your life, your actions, your words, your heartfelt compassion would not mean much in the long run? Have you ever downplayed your part in God’s kingdom?

And why would you think that? Were you hiding from life or from God? Were you running away from what God was calling you to do? Or were you worried you might crumble under the weight of the world, ending up a martyr to your faith as Jesus was? 

Maybe, you were tempted to keep for yourself more than you needed of what gifts and graces God has given you, to hide them away in some barn or silo, some IRA or 401(k), in order to preserve your own wellbeing, to survive the uncertainties of the changing seasons and the difficulties which arise when we least expect them. I’m not sure anyone would blame you. The value of our savings diminishes with the rise of inflation.

The ability to live – to eat food, to purchase groceries to cook and eat at home, to get around in a country unaccustomed to public transportation, unprepared for escalating gas prices – the ability to live, not even grandly but just modestly, is jeopardized by events on the other side of the world, as well as policies determined just forty miles from here. But even then, whatever our attempts, whatever safe haven we think we can locate for our savings, our ability to live is still limited by our desire to put off, to delay, to wait a little longer, because it doesn’t occur to us that this week might be the perfect week for us to do what we’ve been dreaming about.

Maybe, out of fear, and in the midst of tying up your savings and your assets in accounts promising the smallest of returns, maybe, in the middle of battening down the hatches and preparing to weather another storm similar to the housing crisis or the pandemic we have endured, maybe, in rejecting people asking for donations, and in ignoring people asking for support, maybe you also hid from what God gave you.

Maybe, in your reasonable and thoughtful and responsible planning and preparing, you also forgot that it is God who entrusted you with the gifts you have. Maybe, along the way, there was a day when you forgot that God believes in you, believes that you have within you everything you need – all that is required to care for others, to grow in mercy, to persevere in seeking justice. Maybe you just forgot along the way that you are not the only one walking along life’s long road hoping for peace and kindness.

What would it look like to spend part of today (not tomorrow) living, rather than planning or fretting? What would it look like for you to take five minutes to write and put in the mail a card to someone who comes to mind every so often but who you haven’t seen for a while? How would living today affect the world around you?

There is a whole world that is growing and changing, summer ebbing, leaves falling, seasons blowing by, movements forming and coming apart. There is a whole world of people who need to be inspired to walk with God in their lives – the whole of their lives – not just Sunday mornings, not just in their thoughts and prayers, not just with the people they like, but in everything, to follow after the way of Christ, to walk the road of equity, to travel the way of peace and righteousness. And it’s up to you as someone who is alive and who has spent some moments listening for God to help to inspire them. 

Whether you have been given abundance or limited means, you have been given a gift from God. It is a gift to work for justice, for mercy, for peace, for love, for hope in this world. You have been given a gift, and it will not do for you to downplay your part in God’s kingdom. If you do nothing, if you hoard your gifts in the silos, you let the famine of injustice prevail and spread in your midst.

What would happen if we all believed that it is not by our own efforts but simply by the grace of God that the land produces abundantly, that gifts and goodness are available to us all freely and without cost? What would it look like, if there were no servants of God who hid their wealth in barns? What would it look like if we all did what we could with what we had been given? How much more kindness would there be? How much more gentleness would there be? How much more equity would there be?

Don’t wait until the One who is over us all comes one night and demands from us what is not ours to keep for ourselves – our life, our breath, our being. Don’t hesitate to work for the wellbeing of others. Don’t wait until you feel as confident as someone who seems to have been given more than you. Don’t fail to speak up for others who need your help. Don’t balk at the call and make promises to yourself that you’ll try extra hard tomorrow. Don’t build larger barns, which will be of no use to anyone. 

Don’t forget that God entrusted you with the gifts you have. Don’t forget that God believes in you to use them for the wellbeing of others. Don’t forget that you have within you all the gifts you need – to care for loved ones, to grow in mercy, to persevere in seeking justice. Don’t forget, because people are counting on you.

So will you be on your guard against forgetting your own calling? Will you be on your guard against hungering and thirsting for more rather than giving what you have? Will you be on your guard against greed, pride, envy, and hate? Will you be on your guard against missing what’s most important and most irreplaceable in this world?

Will you?

I pray you will.

Amen.