Real Freedom

11^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, August 4, 2013

Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23; Psalm 49:1-11; Colossians 3:1-11; Luke 12:13-21

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I was thinking about what to major in when I went to college, my father advised me to go into something that would make me a living.  He didn’t much care what that was, as long as when I got out of college, I had a fair chance of finding a job and being able to support myself.  Initially, I think I’ve told you all before, I was accepted at college in a pre-forestry program.  I wanted to work in the outdoors, preferably in the woods or the water.  Purdue had a fine forestry program, but being a park ranger (my ultimate goal) did not seem like a profession that would produce a living wage upon graduation.  My father lived at a time when “work” wasn’t about personal fulfillment or “fun”.  It was nice if you enjoyed your work, but that regular paycheck was about supporting your family.  It meant your family had dinner on the table every night, and you had money to buy necessities, as well as to provide opportunity.  It paid for anything “fun” after your expenses were met. Regular income provided both security and freedom.

            I belief this was true for many people living in the 50’s, 60’s and the early ‘70’s.  Paid work provided for the family.  It wasn’t about personal fulfillment or self actualization.  The role of a husband and father was to bring home the bacon.  Most women were working at home, taking care of the children, cleaning the house, doing laundry, and cooking meals, a full time job in its own right.  Good fathers provided for their families.  Good wives kept the household together. 

            We’ve always valued good character, qualities like dependability, honesty, integrity, kindness, compassion … but when the rubber hit the road … those things weren’t valued if they weren’t coupled with a good job and a regular paycheck, even if you turned out to be the nicest person on earth.  You weren’t worth much if your family was going hungry.

            A friend of mine grew up poor.  His father was a lawyer who was caught embezzling funds.  He was indicted and sent to prison.  It destroyed his father.  When he got out of jail, he certainly couldn’t go back to practicing law.  He ended up working at a gas station for the rest of his life.  His wife became the primary bread winner.  She was a kindergarten teacher.  Her meager teacher’s salary supported the family.  My friend grew up knowing what it was to want things that he couldn’t afford.  He learned that you had to “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” in life.  Nothing was handed to you on a silver platter.  Hard work and sacrifice made you a “man”.  Real men provided for their families. 

            Then one day, he fell in love and got married to a woman who came from a family with means.  He quickly came to realize that no matter how hard he worked, there was nothing he could give his wife that her father couldn’t already give her.  It was a horrific realization for him.  It threw him into the midst of an identity crisis.  What use was he to her?  What did he matter?  What could he give her that would have any meaning when his wife could already have anything she wanted? 

            It was a long and difficult journey for him, but he finally figured it out.  There was one thing she couldn’t buy.  The one thing no one else could give her was “him”, his very self.  It wasn’t his paycheck.  It wasn’t any present he bought.  It wasn’t any “thing” at all, it was “him”.  Pure and simple, his presence in joy and sorrow, his life, his love.  He stopped judging himself by that old standard he’d grown up with.  His self-worth wasn’t based on how much money he made, how many possessions he had, what kind of gifts he could afford to give or even by his profession.  What mattered most was what kind of person he was.  That realization was a gift. 

Now different questions occupied his thoughts.  He was free.  What could he do with his life that would have meaning?  Those questions started him on a new journey, one that led him to be trained as an EMT.  He spent eight years working to help save people’s lives.  He learned blacksmithing and worked with horses.  He started his own computer business.  He deepened his relationship with God and offered himself as a spiritual director and was trained as a hospice chaplain.  He spends time with those who are grieving or sick as a Stephen’s Minister at his church.  With his “freedom”, he started to give “himself” away.  Maybe because he realized how valuable “he” was.

            He began to wonder if only the rich have the kind of “freedom” he came to enjoy.  He began to think about economic disparity and its effects.  Were those with less even able to live moral lives?  The rich have the financial security to make decisions not based on survival.  They can quit jobs and move on without worrying about whether they’ll have money to put food on the table.  They can choose to buy more expensive organic food to feed their children.  They can afford to live in homes with the most energy efficient appliances, install clean energy technologies in their homes, and drive hybrid cars because they have the money to purchase them.  They can spend more time with their families, work less and travel more, even around the globe learning about different cultures.  They can afford to send their kids to private schools and the best colleges, so that their children have the opportunity to get higher paying jobs and provide for their own families.  What chance does the average person have?  Are they really free without money?

Scarcity is such a demon.  It gives money more power than it deserves.  Freedom is God’s gift to us.  If we place our trust in money, and we depend on it for our security, we have very little chance of being able choose freely, because every choice is based on “the money”.   The goal is always to have enough money, not happiness or joy.  We can’t afford to risk losing that very thing that ensures our security.  But if we put our trust in God, we have real freedom, because God’s desire for us is joy, abundant joy.  In that way, we put our relationship with money in the right place.  Money is tool, sometimes a necessary tool … but not the end.  To live that way, we have to be courageous, maybe even what the world would consider a little reckless. 

A few days ago a I was talking with two different friends.  One asked me if I had heard Tom’s “good news”.  “No”, I said.  “I haven’t.”  “Tell her”, he encouraged him.  Tom said, “I gave my two weeks notice at my job.”  Great, I thought.  He’s found another job.  Tom’s been working at a dairy farm.  In fact, he grew up on a farm and worked with his father.  I thought perhaps he was ready to leave that life, but he then said this.  “My father liked what he did.  That’s not so true where I work now, and it’s beginning to wear on me.  So I decided it was time to leave.”  Tom was just quitting, because his job was wearing on him.  His friend added enthusiastically, “So he’s looking for a new job”. 

Tom wasn’t leaving his job to walk right into another one.  He was leaving because he felt it was time to leave.  That seems a little “reckless” in the current economic climate, but he was really happy about his decision.  I got the sense that it was the right time, even if it wasn’t the safest financial decision to be making.  I’m sure money was a part of it, but I didn’t get the sense that money was driving it.

Tom is a Christian.  He tries to live an intentional life of faith following the example and teachings of Jesus.  He’s willing to be a little reckless in faith.  He’s claimed the kind of freedom that my more wealthier friend spent years discovering.  His worth is not defined by what he has, or how much he makes.  He is God’s child, and that makes all the difference.

Our greatest possession is our very selves.  We’re free to spend ourselves in any way we want.  We can wile away our lives and spend them in ways that allow us to buy all sorts of toys and gadgets, but bring no goodness and kindness into the world.  We can hoard them and build barns for all that we gather for ourselves, and someday we will have to leave it all behind.  Or we can spend our lives giving them away, creating community where there is isolation … offering hope where there is fear … seeking justice where there is oppression … offering peace where there is violence … bringing healing to places of pain. 

It begins by recognizing the freedom we have to choose, no matter how much money we have.  A freedom that finds its ground in the unconditional love offered us by God.  We are made worthy in Christ.  Period.  We do not need to prove anything to anyone … by buying the latest smart phone, having the latest fashions or driving the biggest car.  We are loveable and loved, just as we are.  Giving ourselves away is the antidote to insatiable desire.  When we give, we receive.  We are emptied and filled at the same time. 

I see it in those who volunteer at the Mobile Pantry each month.  They smile.  They laugh.  They enjoy helping.  Many of them can’t work, but sitting at home with nothing to do is so isolating.  At the Mobile Pantry they’re doing something meaningful.  We need them.  Everyone in line needs them.  Every month now, two or three new people in the line ask about volunteering.  Why is that?  I think it’s because they’re looking for a way to give themselves away.  They want to do something meaningful with their lives.  Don’t you? 

How do you spend your life?  What do you do that is meaningful?  How do you make a difference to other people?  How do you open the barn doors and give yourself away?  God fed the Israelites manna in the desert.  God fed them every day, enough for that day.  That’s what we’re promised … enough.  Anything more is just fluff.  The rest is just for show.  You are free.  We are free.  Use that freedom in faith … because you are worth it.

Amen.