Practical Poverty

So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.  -- Luke 14:33

The cost of following Christ is great.  I believe I have mentioned before standing on a sidewalk one Sunday evening as a man with tears in his eyes and voice talked about the Pearl of Great Price.  God only wants everything we have, and it is what I hold on to, or try to hold on to that hurts me.  We get confused, though, if we see this as meaning that we have to live in the manner of monks or desert hermits.  We might think of the story of St. Francis who piled all that he had, even to his clothing, at his father’s feet and went off naked and trusting God.  But Wuest’s translation says, “… who does not in self-renunciation bid farewell to all his possessions …”, and this may help us to see that the problem lies not in what we possess or do not possess but in the self which would possess. 

Perhaps it would help clarify if we think not in terms of possessions but of rights.  We are all be endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights, and, as citizens, we may claim and exercise those rights.  Oppressive people, individually or in groups, may deny us our rights but they don’t take those rights away.  Every human who has ever lived has the right to life, to liberty, and to the pursuit of happiness – which pursuit generally involves family and other relationships and the things that in turn support those girders of happiness.   

Jesus demands that we offer our rights up to Him and submit ourselves to His lordship.  If we need further evidence, we may look at another well-known passage wherein the Lord tells us to turn the other cheek, go the second mile, and surrender our coat along with our shirt.  We are bidding farewell to our right to self-defense, our right to liberty, and our right to our own possessions.

This is so contrary to the way I think.  If some fool comes down my road and decides he wants to slap me and take my motorcycle – especially Serenity – he’d better be mighty big and mighty quick.  In any case, he will earn it.  Here’s the thing, though, remember when Jesus sent His disciples to find a donkey for Him to ride into Jerusalem?  He said that if anybody questioned what looked like theft, the disciples were to answer, “The Lord has need of it.”  What if Jesus wanted my bike or my tractor or the old Chuckster?  Most of us would say without hesitation – and mean it, “What do I have, Lord, that You did not give me?  It all belongs to You.”  Does it matter that He sends an agent to take from us what we acknowledge is His?  His rights supersede ours, and we exercise our rights only as managers under His proprietorship.  If God’s agent is a fire or a flood should we weep long over what He has taken? 

God’s law forbids stealing and killing and abuse, so the thief or the thug  is operating contrary to the divine edicts.  We may reasonably resist such a one.  We have an obligation to defend the weak and the innocent from unlawful predation.  Nevertheless, if a thief steals my car, he has not stolen from me but from God, and to God he is accountable.  Of course, the Lord would be justified in asking the stupid steward why he left the doors unlocked and the key in the ignition and in leaving him afoot until he learned better. 

We renounce our rights to ownership not to care and good stewardship.

Learning, Love, and Loss

Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.  On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’   And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.' — Matthew 7:21-23

I have been reading about the life of Saint Anthony of Padua.  He began his religious life in the order of St. Augustine, intently studying theology.  His direction changed drastically when his monastery housed the remains of five Franciscan monks martyred while preaching in Islamic Morocco.  Then known by his baptismal name of Fernando, he begged for the opportunity to join the Franciscan Order to give his life as a witness for Christ among the "Saracens".  He was allowed to leave the Augustinian Order.  Becoming a Franciscan, he changed his name to Anthony and sought martyrdom in Morocco.  Instead of death by beheading, Anthony fell terribly ill and was forced to sail for his home in Portugal.  A storm drove the ship to port on the east coast of Sicily.  These accidents culminated in Anthony preaching at an ordination of Dominicans and Franciscans, and his eventual appointment by Saint Francis as the first teacher of the Franciscans.  To that point, Saint Francis had been opposed to learning, fearing it would encourage pride among his Order. 

Anthony, though, was a most humble person.  He spoke simply without oratorical embellishment but with a comprehensive grasp of theology and Scripture.  He thus became the "Hammer of Heretics" — not out of antagonism but through a love for truth.  Saint Anthony was an effective preacher and teacher because he lived the gospel message of humility and poverty in spirit.  So, too, should our lives align with the words we speak — heeding the warning given by Jesus.  It is doing justly and loving mercy that counts rather than lip-service.  We must obey the commandments of Christ not merely proclaim them. 

Probably best known as being the Saint called upon to restore lost items, Anthony himself had little to lose.  His patronage, however, is based upon the loss one of his very few possessions and the only one which he truly valued — a manuscript copy of the Psalms.  Not only was this a precious item in that time before moveable print, but Anthony had his own notes in the margins relating to his prayer and teaching.  The book was not simply mislaid.  A straying novice had made off with Anthony's manuscript when he fled the monastery.  Anthony prayed that his book would be returned.  The young man repented and came back, restoring the Psalms to Anthony.

Anthony traveled much through the known world of his time with very little baggage.  He traveled light in terms of material possessions, but he carried with him the Word.  In fact, one of the most common depictions of Saint Anthony shows him holding the Infant Jesus.  The life of Saint Anthony illustrates the value of learning and knowledge of theology.  Equally, he shows us that, if we are going to carry Christ with us, we cannot carry much that is of this world. 

In modern life, rich as it is with material blessings and with so many distractions into which we are tempted to invest our time and energy, we can benefit from examining the life of those who considered themselves strangers and pilgrims here.  What is it that I am carrying around?  Is that Christ in my arms?  Am I bearing the light and sweet burden of the gospel?  Or am I weighed down with the accoutrements so valued and sought after by the worldly?  Do I have possessions which I hold loosely?  Or am I bound and possessed by material objects? 

Our values are revealed by how we live, by the fruit that our life bears, by the things we obsess or fret over.  It is almost ironic that a Christ-bearer such as Anthony would be the one appealed to when someone needs help finding lost car keys or a desperately needed job.  God does, though, care about our material existence.  He does provide for us and show His concern for even our smallest losses and anxieties.  By helping us to find what is, for the moment at least, irreplaceable, He reminds us that we were lost, that He deemed us irreplaceable, and that He sought us until we were found.     

Possessed

Do not love the world or the things that belong to the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in him. Because everything that belongs to the world — the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride in one's lifestyle—is not from the Father, but is from the world. And the world with its lust is passing away, but the one who does God's will remains forever. – 1 John 2:15-17

Don't love the world's ways. Don't love the world's goods. Love of the world squeezes out love for the Father. Practically everything that goes on in the world—wanting your own way, wanting everything for yourself, wanting to appear important—has nothing to do with the Father. It just isolates you from him. The world and all its wanting, wanting, wanting is on the way out—but whoever does what God wants is set for eternity (The Message).

I’ve met a few folks who were not worldly. Some of them were religious, but some were simply wise, having realized that the system does not work as advertised and the rat race doesn’t get you anywhere. Me – I’m bad for liking cool stuff – in particular books, radios, firearms, knives, and some other hand tools are my main weaknesses. At least, it’s not cats or Precious Moments figurines. I do have two utility infielder felines, but they’re kind of like kids -- except they don’t ask for money.

I used to have a rule that I would only have as many firearms as I could shoot or carry – and I’ve done pretty well. I’m about three over at the moment – maybe four – of course, I could get my wife to carry a couple. The grandkids are coming up, too, so I have to have some extras for them. There’s no point in trying to count my knives.

I don’t love the stuff I have – that is, I’m not attached to it, for the most part, but I do appreciate it, and I try to take care of it. When I was a little kid, my parents got me whatever I needed, and my oldest sister, who was already out on her own and working, got me a lot of things I probably didn’t need. While I never thought about it explicitly, my view was that these possessions were valuable – not so much in themselves, but that every toy and trinket was an expression of the love my family had for me. I derived joy from the use of a toy certainly, but I also derived joy from taking good care of what I was given so that the people who had given it to me would know I was grateful to them.

In a sense, I think it is “sinful” not to value and care for what we have been given – whether family, friends, pets or possessions. I accept the fact of wear and tear, and that eventually things wear out and have to be replaced, just as I accept the fact that people and animals pass on. But it is my job, if I possess something, to get the most out of it while keeping it in the best condition possible. I’m not supposed to stress out over equipment that breaks – I’m still working on that. I am, however, supposed to see the effort and skill that went into creating something, see the time I traded in order to possess it, see the grace of God that enabled me to obtain it, and then esteem it appropriately.

I have the utmost respect for a man so spiritual that he refuses to possess a car, but I cannot believe a man is spiritual who, having a car, fails to get the oil changed.

There are probably some who would look at John’s admonition to “love not the world nor the things thereof” as a reason to be careless with property and possessions. I don’t see it that way. Those who suffer most from the disease of worldliness are the ones who never appreciate what they do have. They want more simply to have more, or want it so someone else cannot have it.

God doesn’t care what we have, or how much we have. What He does address is making our own gods out of things, activities, or relationships. He tells us not to adopt the religion of accumulation, or bow down to self.

A simple test is that if the care and feeding of what I call “mine” eats up a significant portion of my free time, then I probably have too much. Any possession, pursuit or person that draws me away from God needs to be examined and put in its proper perspective, perhaps even abandoned. We can be balanced, appreciating the gifts in our lives but always vigilante and ready to dump anything that threatens to take over and control us.

The world is a system and a spirit rather than a place or material. From the world’s perspective, it makes sense to try and have everything our way, to get whatever we want, and to glory in how we live, and especially how clever we are. It is no surprise that as society becomes increasingly post-Christian it also becomes increasingly enamored with that which is from the world.

There is good news, though. Since the Cross, Christ reigns. Yes, I know that’s hard to see sometimes, but the Messiah’s Kingdom has come and is coming right now. In Daniel’s interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (Daniel 2:34-35), he spoke of the kingdoms of the world. Then he described a stone cut out without hands that struck the worldly kingdoms and shattered them. There will be an end of the world, but of His Kingdom there shall be no end.

Finishing

Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them He said: “If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters – yes, even his own life – he cannot be My disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow Me cannot be My disciple.

“Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’

“Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be My disciple.” – Luke 14:25-33

Note that Jesus is much more concerned with quality than quantity. Most of us would think if we had a large following we should be more careful about what we say so as to avoid offending any of them. The Lord, instead, seems to go out of His way to turn people off and thin out the crowds. He says things that are difficult to grasp, esoteric, and controversial – not for the sake of controversy at all but simply because they are true. Some might find it easy enough to get offended by this “preaching hate”, as Jesus is here. Imagine someone today telling our society – its only virtue seems to be tolerance – to hate anything.

Of course, what the Lord is telling us to hate is not our family itself but those flatland aspects of family relations that entrap us and hinder us from entering the kingdom. Detachment – not in an objectified, disinterested sense – but in terms of not deriving our worth and direction from the world system is what He tells us we need. I cannot allow my family to define me. I cannot allow even who I see myself as to define me.

If we are going to build a tower – that is, if we are going to do something vertical, we do need a foundation in the horizontal. But if we are able to lay only the foundation our efforts will appear to be a senseless joke. Foundations – for example, righteous living, corporate worship, and prayer – only make sense if we are building on them in another plane.

Then Jesus asks another question about finishing things. What is the point of fighting a battle you are bound to lose? If the end is death, why cling to your little flatland fiefdom? The lives of far too many people are filled with pretentiousness. They are masks, empty shells that will crumble away, cocoons without a caterpillar. Why would a person struggle to hang onto this imitation life when the real is available for nothing? All one has to do, Jesus says, is surrender. Give up the pretensions and enter the kingdom of God. We may end up not looking like much in this life, but someday we will burst forth in freedom and beauty, a glorious thing with wings, no longer bound to the surface, soaring.

Jesus is not asking us to abandon our families and our responsibilities to go live under a bridge. He is asking us to “give them up”, not get rid of them. We are wont to ignore what is possibly the most obvious thing imaginable. No one really owns any material property, and all that is visible passes away. We may have the privilege of using a possession for a number of years but the day will come when it passes into the hand of another, and there will be nothing we can do about it. In light of this, the Lord says, there’s no point in clinging to the things of this world. Accept them with gratitude, use and enjoy them as one is able, and leave them in God’s possession.

My daughter called last night because she was upset and found herself thinking about taking a drink. She talked about how she had wanted to be successful and not disappoint us. I told her that success is not about what we do or have, but about who we are to become. What looks like a failure is merely a reset, if we can receive it. It is a chance to get back on track, to stop living only on the surface of accomplishments, accolades and acclaim. We are on this long strange trip to unite (or perhaps reunite) with our true being, to become what we really are or what we are really meant to be, and whatever moves us in that direction is good. I’m glad she told me she loves me but if her love for me kept her trapped in notching achievements while living a shattered, inauthentic life, I’d rather she hated me.

Happy New Year!