"Wise and Foolish, Money and Oil" - Matthew 25:1-13

Matthew 25:1-13

[Jesus said,] “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom!  Come out to meet him.’  Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’  And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. Later, the other bridesmaids came also, saying, 'Lord, lord, open to us.' But he replied, 'Truly I tell you, I do not know you.'

"Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour."

Remember the parable? The one about the bridesmaids? Five foolish ones who weren’t prepared for the coming of the bridegroom and five wise ones who were – or at least who were prepared enough to take care of themselves, anyway.

Just like we do too much of the time, I imagine most of those people listening to Jesus back in the First Century suspected his parable was all and only about the end of time – sometime “then” and “there,” sometime down the road, sometime “up there” and “out there” in a galaxy far, far away, and that this imaginary, unseen, metaphorical bridegroom (the messiah, the Christ, the savior of us all) would show up and that they better be ready, or else.

But remember, the kingdom of heaven was already among them. The bridegroom, as it were, had already showed up. In Jesus Christ, he and the kingdom were living and moving and breathing right there in their midst.

So, instead of pretending that Jesus was simply talking about winners and losers at the end of time – suggesting that some will make it into the party and others won’t – or suggesting that we should attempt to figure such things out, I think Jesus was inviting his followers to look for the kingdom of heaven among them, too – in this age, not just in the age to come – so that they’d be ready to receive and to respond to and rejoice in it whenever and wherever it revealed itself.

For the last couple of Fridays, Christa and I have been meeting with some financial advisers, working to get our financial ducks in a row. Other than the Dave Ramsey course a few years ago, and whatever conversations we have around monthly budgets and daily needs and our giving to the church, we haven’t done any real, deliberate financial planning – with someone smarter than us – since just after we got married and moved to Indiana. And some of you know that between Christa and me, when it comes to the stuff of “financial planning,” one of us is much more foolish and one of us is far more wise. (My lamp would be empty, as the parable goes, and she’d have oil stock-piled for days. Thankfully, she’s a good sharer.)

So we’re handing over documents. We’re sharing what we’ve been up to. We’re talking about goals for the future – college for the boys, insurance policies, retirements hopes and all the rest. Ultimately, our financial planners seem to be equal parts financial management wizards and life coaches and counselors.

Surrounding all of our conversations about money and bottom lines and dollars and cents and financial forecasts they keep pointing out and reminding us that our main goal is to be prepared – to be as prepared as we can be for whatever the future holds; to be prepared on behalf of our boys and their plans; to be prepared when it comes to our retirement; and to be prepared, even, when we think about the ministry in this place. They know that we give 13% of our family’s income to the ministry at Cross of Grace, and that we want to continue that, which I only tell you so you'll know I'm not asking or encouraging you to do anything I don't try to do myself.

Which, of course, is where all of this is headed, as we’re asking each other to consider the money we give to sustain and pay for what we’ve built here in our little “corner of the kingdom,” as Pastor Aaron said in the video.

As children of God, and as Partners in Mission in this place, God wants for us to recognize that the kingdom of heaven is still alive and well among us, right now, in the world and surrounding us in this place. And God wants for us to keep awake, to be prepared, to stand ready to serve and respond to the needs of the world in as many ways as those needs come knocking at our door.

And I think we do that, like so many wise bridesmaids, when we continue to give generously and faithfully – and only out of gratitude – for the blessings God pours into our lives. And, frankly, I think we can do even better than those wise bridesmaids, when we show up and come prepared and give enough so that others who can’t, or don’t, or won’t, might be able to join the party, too.

And we’ve been wise and faithful and generous with our Building Fund – all of us together, I mean – over the years. We’ve built what and when we’ve needed to. You heard in the video about the money we’ve shared with others, like in Fondwa and Noblesville. And we’ve worked to save and pay faithfully on our debt. (If you haven’t picked up or read through your campaign packet, yet, you should know we’ve ostensibly paid for the latest addition of offices, classrooms, nursery and sanctuary space, in addition to reducing our mortgage’s principle by $247,000 in just the last two years.)

But none of this is ultimately about money or mortgage payments, for me, any more than Jesus was actually talking about oil or lamps in his parable of the bridesmaids.

This is about the light of the world. This is about the grace of God. And this is about the unique, special, uninhibited, no-strings-attached kind of way we’re encouraged to share it all through our ministry at Cross of Grace - like so many other churches out there can't, or won't, or don't, for whatever reason.

So my prayer this week, is that you’ll pray with me this week. That next Sunday we’ll come back prepared like so many wise bridesmaids, ready to make our latest commitments to the Building Fund, and that we’ll make those offerings wisely, faithfully, generously, and with deep gratitude for the grace that is already ours, and ours to share.

And that in doing so, we’ll see and celebrate that we are sharing the light of the world, the very kingdom of heaven, the amazing grace of God – that’s been so generously shared with us, already, in Jesus Christ.

Amen

"Death (a.k.a. Moldy, Pea Green Shag Carpet)" – Matthew 5:1-12

Death has been on my mind quite a bit over the last month. Not in an unhealthy way; but rather in a “wow, there are a lot of things going on in my life that somehow touch on the concept of death” kind of way. Perhaps you feel, or have felt, the same way.

I’d like to share a few of the recent circumstances that death has crossed my mind because they are the illustrations that help set the stage for a new understanding of Jesus’ teaching about blessedness.

Seasonal death
Every autumn our eyes are drawn to the vibrant yellow, orange, and brown leaves. Soon the leaves will be completely severed from their source of nourishment, at which point they will fall gracefully to the ground and decompose, offering their entire bodies as nourishment to the soil. This example of death is the one we find most palatable because it is death that is predictable and doesn’t feel final. We knew the leaves would change colors and die; in the same way that we know in just a few months new leaves will emerge along branches that have grown bigger and stronger. Any sadness that accompanies seasonal death is little more than a touch of nostalgia (or fear of a harsh winter!).

Ironic death
This time of year also heralds the coming of zombies, mummies, vampires, goblins, and ghosts as we celebrate Halloween. Halloween is our socially-acceptable attempt to make death into a caricature–to depict it as something thrilling, amusing, and even humorous in order to mask our fear. This is death that is not real, which allows us to play with the concept in ways that are otherwise inappropriate the other 51 weeks out of the year.

Death through the eyes of a child
My youngest son, Kyle, has experienced two seizures in the last month. He has no history of seizures so we were shocked when he had his first one sitting on the sidelines of a soccer game. Both occasions were hellish 60 seconds of full-body convulsions, groaning, and not breathing. Turns out that the seizures are not medically serious and he might never have one again; however, the two experiences were terrifying. Nolan, my oldest, was oblivious to the first episode (he was busy playing soccer); but he witnessed the second episode. As he was riding with family to the hospital where Kyle was being rushed in an ambulance, he turned to a relative and described what he saw, saying, “Kyle died but came back to life.” Labeling the experience as a “death” shows a recognition that death is something that is frightening, traumatic, and mysterious; but not final.

Death - the end of an actual human life
I was completely shocked to hear recently that the father of one of my friends had died unexpectedly in the middle of the night. When we hear of unexpected death our impulse is to think back to the last time we were with that person, often saying, “But I just saw him last week and s/he looked fine!”

And there’s my wife’s grandfather; our last living grandfather. For several months now he’s been receiving hospice care and we’ve been bracing for his impending death. Each time we’ve seen him he seems more and more weak and withdrawn.

In the first case death was unexpected and seems unfair. In the other, death will be partially understood as relief from suffering. Both are difficult to accept; both make us feel sad.

What Jesus says about death in a scripture passage that seems to have nothing to do with death
Today we join with Christian churches across the globe in observing All Saints Sunday – a day of remembrance and celebration of people who have died. Given this context, it seems odd that the Gospel text selected for today has, on the surface, little to do with death.

There is an all-too-common misunderstanding of today’s Gospel from Matthew (often referred to as “The Beatitudes”) that the list of promised blessings to those who feel anything but blessed are promises of a future reality. Or, more concisely, these are the blessings that await us when we die and walk through the pearly gates of heaven. This misunderstanding is likely rooted in Jesus’ words: “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven.”

But Jesus’ idea of heaven is much different that the one our culture has adopted.

For Jesus, the kingdom of heaven (a topic that is addressed quite often throughout scripture) is a present reality that is only partially visible to (or, more often, completely hidden from) us. The kingdom of heaven is, paradoxically, both an “already” and a “not yet” – it is the source of life, peace, hope, and love that God uses to sustain the world. And it is available to us right now; we don’t have to wait until we die.

It’s a difficult concept to wrap our minds around, so I’ll rely on an overly simplistic image to help make sense of what I’m trying to say: Some friends bought an old home. The home needed a ton of work as it was in disrepair and woefully outdated. They decided the upstairs carpet (a pea green shag) needed to be completely replaced, as no amount of effort would clean up the stains, dirt, and mold (or bring pea green shag back in style). When they tore back the carpet they were shocked to find it was lain over a beautiful hardwood floor.

So often what we see in our world, what we take to be true (such as wars, obscene personal weath, political power, social media “friendships,” scam artists, insecurity, disease, prostitution, winning at all costs, polka music, and so on), is nothing but moldy pea green shag carpet covering up the real truth of our world – a beautiful hardwood of life, peace, hope, and love.

Jesus makes this clear when he says “Blessed are the poor…those who mourn…the meek…the hungry…the merciful…the pure…the peacemakers…the persecuted.” In the Greek text, the verb “blessed” is written in the indicative mood and the present tense. It’s the way to say “This is the way things are, now.”

On the one hand this is a warning: Those who oppress, fail to forgive, persecute, make war, allow others to go hungry, and lord power over others, are going against the way, the truth, and the life that sustains our world. They constitute the moldy, pea green shag carpet covering up the beauty of life.

On the other hand, this is a promise. Those who are oppressed, unforgiven, persecuted, victimized, hungry, and meek, the life, peace, hope, and love of Jesus will surround us. The kingdom of heaven is available to be experienced here and now and it looks nothing like what we’ve come to expect. “When we learn to recognize such people as blessed – to call them saints – we pledge our allegiance to that new world even as we participate in its realization.”

Which brings us back to death. To me, death looks a lot like a moldy, pea green shag carpet. Death is real, yes; in the same way as war, disease, and polka music are real. But death is not the whole story. There is something beautiful beyond death – a truth that so pervasive and beautiful that death simply cannot overshadow – the truth that life is what we were created for and what we are promised.

Death is terrifying; I’ll be the first to admit it. The times when death crosses my mind I feel myself getting unnerved. But I return to the promises of scripture, the promise that death is not the end, the promise that life is more powerful than death, the promise that God created us to live and love and nothing will prevent us from doing that, no matter if we’re on this side of death or the other.

Today we come together to commemorate the dead. We acknowledge the pain in our hearts as we remember their faces and voices but know we will not touch them again. We accept their death as a loss in our lives. And yet at the same time we give thanks that they are experiencing a world free from moldy pea green shag carpet; a world where they are free to experience blessedness without any of the barriers that our sin so often throw up.

And so, I wonder if my son has it right after all. I wonder if the way he thinks about death, as something that is frightening, traumatic, and mysterious, but perhaps not final, is actually the best way to understand death.

And so, I wonder if, by understanding death in this way, that will help me experience the blessedness that Jesus promises. That is certainly my hope and prayer; my trust and my faith.

Amen.