George Dawson died last Thursday night here in Dallas at age 103.  Born the grandson of slaves on a farm near Marshall just before the turn of the twentieth century, he was disadvantaged by poverty and prejudice from the start.  Working mostly hard labor jobs until he was eighty-nine, he also carried the memory of witnessing the lynching of a close friend when he was only ten.  Yet, remarkably, he didn’t learn to read until five years ago, at ninety-eight!  His memoirs, published last year, were entitled, Life Is So Good.  One of his biographers said of him, “‘He was extremely poor, yet he lived a rich life.’”  (“Role Model for Literacy Dies at 103,” The Dallas Morning News, July 6, 2001) 

How are some people able to do that?  To live richly despite their poverty.  To reach beyond the lowest common denominator of the disadvantage into which they were born and celebrate whatever goodness they are able to find?  How do they do that?  I remember working with a man once, when I was in the estate planning business, who told me he didn’t have much.  We were helping plan for the distribution of his assets upon his death and he said he didn’t have much to worry about.  When we put the pencil to it, the total value of his estate was over $1.4 million!  Looking at the numbers, he said again, “See, I don’t have much.” 

The difference between Mr. Dawson and Mr. I Don’t Have Much has something to do with perspective.  One sees an overflowing life as less than half full and, in full view of $1.4 million, says of it all, “I didn’t have much.”  The other sees what is less than half full as overflowing and ends his life on a “life is so good” note of celebration.  One measured the substance of life using only the yardstick of material wealth.  The other, a yardstick measuring wealth that can’t really be measured materially.  When the boys wish out loud that they had more, I make it a point to drive them by a hovel and remind them that wealth is relative.  I take a moment to remind myself, too.  But, moving from cynical, materialistic jealousy to the kind of spiritual genuineness for which we were created is about more than simply adjusting our perspectives by comparing our net worth to someone else’s.  That’s a roller coaster ride with frightening ups and downs and sickening twists and turns that never ends.  We’re created for more.

It was that something more that Jesus saw as so essential to living, assuming genuineness and eternal significance define living more than simply accumulating stuff, that led him to tell his disciples to leave their stuff at home as they pursued his mission for them.  “‘Do not take a purse or bag or sandals,’” he told them.  Their stuff would just get in the way.  Stuff does that, doesn’t it?  It gets in the way.  It blurs our eternal vision.  It weighs us down. 

A recent garage sale brought more than just the whopping $100 we made.  It brought a lesson in futility, too.  Garage sales rate poorly with me anyway.  In terms of a nice way to spend a Saturday, they’re on about the same level as a day spent shopping at an outlet mall.  But, Nancy worked like a dog getting ready.  She’d want you to know that I know that.  Beyond the time spent organizing, we spent half a day sweating in our garage and swatting flies only to spend the last half of the day reshuffling the stuff that didn’t sell so we could park in our garage.  I was actually fantasizing about a good fire.  At least we’d have the insurance check.  But, what would we do with that except buy more stuff to put in our garage so we’d have it to not sell to someone else someday?  Futile, isn’t it?  And, if you think you’re doing something noble by not having a garage sale so you can leave your stuff for the kids, you’re only fooling yourself.  Beyond a couple of sentimental trinkets, when you’re gone, they’re going to have – a big garage sale!  Stuff sure gets in the way, doesn’t it?  “Leave it,” Jesus said, “where you’re going, you won’t need it.”  Exactly where is that? 

Turns out, it’s to a place where we learn the simple joy of eating what’s put before us.  Now, this scripture is about a lot of things.  On one level, it’s a textbook study in timeless methods of effective evangelism or missions.  On another level, it’s about a world that is more ready to hear the gospel than we’d ever believe.  It’s also about one of the most fundamental principles of meaningful living.  Perhaps you’re sickened by the roller coaster ride of constantly measuring your worth by comparative standards neither consistent nor constant.  Or, perhaps you’re longing for some hope beyond the futility of just leaving your stuff for someone else to sell when you’re gone.  If so, you might be interested in Jesus’ instruction to live “‘eating and drinking whatever they give you.’”  It’s a little phrase packed with a lot of life.  It eluded my attention every time I read this text.  Until now. 

Jesus told those he sent out that their obedience would not guarantee them warm welcomes wherever they went.  “‘I am sending you out like lambs among wolves,’” he said.  Poor place in the food chain, wouldn’t you agree?  The word picture is clear enough.  Wolves devour lambs.  Just because Jesus’ disciples had a noble reason for going there was no guarantee they’d be treated like nobility by those who saw the gospel as a threat to their ways of believing and living.  At the hands of those who resented being called to follow Christ’s way of bleeding yourself out for others, they should prepare themselves for profound rejection, “‘like lambs among wolves,’” Jesus said.  Not everyone will graciously receive the gifts of grace we bring.  But, when rejection comes, remember these two things. 

First, leave the vengeance business to God.  These first-century missionaries were going out to “‘heal the sick’” and proclaim the good news that the “‘kingdom of God is near.’”  Good work and words.  But, not everyone would be glad to see and hear.  Wolves never view lambs as sources of warm wool that sustains life through cold winters.  Quick kill artists struggling to survive in a paw to snout existence, wolves live only for the next meal.  We shouldn’t be surprised when wolves act like wolves.  And, we should never make it our business to rid the woods of the big bad wolves.  Leave the vengeance business to God. 

A little insight on judgment here.  Jesus said, “‘it will be more tolerable on that day for Sodom than for that town.’”  You remember Sodom?  Picture postcard model of absolute paganism from Old Testament days.  People so wicked that God reigned down fiery judgment from heaven on them.  When Jesus referred to “‘that day’” he was referring to that time when all will give account to God.  He was also saying that God would measure people by what they did about what they knew.  The people of Sodom, absolute pagans, though they rejected what truth about God they knew, would find “‘that day’” more bearable before God than those to whom the fullest knowledge of God in Christ had been revealed.  The scriptures offer no real eternal hope for anyone who, given the opportunity to accept the life of God in Christ, rejects it outright. 

Having said that, however, it’s not ours to know why some people live or believe as they do.  There is what we see and there is always a story behind what we see that we never know and only God knows.  Shortly after coming to Cliff Temple, one of our senior adults made an appointment with me.  When she sat down in my office she said she wanted to tell me about her life so that, when I saw her face, I’d know the story behind it.  It was a sad and painful story.  Every time I see her face, I marvel at the story behind her genuinely warm smiles. 

We all have faces.  We all have stories behind the faces that God knows.  Face value judgment of others always devalues someone God found invaluable enough to send his only son to die for.  When others judge and reject us at face value it’s so tempting to retaliate.  Especially when our gifts are genuine.  We must always remember, however, that there is a story behind their rejection we’ll likely never know.  Only God is holy, wise and loving enough to measure out judgment in ways that bring people’s stories to redemptive conclusions.  We don’t do that well.  We tend to measure out judgment with a take-no-prisoners vengeance that only leaves our victims bitter at us and the loving God we claim to represent.  When rejection comes, leave the vengeance business to God. 

Second, when rejection comes, learn to live eating what is set before you.  Some will reject what you have to give no matter how pure your motives or good your gift.  Others will gladly receive what you have to give and invite you to stay longer so you can give more.  Living a life that leaves more than stuff for someone else to sell when we’re gone means learning to pay attention more to those who have an ear for what we have to say and a heart to receive it than to those who do not.  Live “‘eating and drinking whatever they give you.’”

This is such a fundamental principle of meaningful living, learning to live grateful for what we do have rather than cynically bitter for what we don’t.  Those who find a way of staying happily married for periods of time only decades can measure have learned to live more aware of what they do have in that marriage than what they don’t have.  (Ask those married ten or more years to stand.)

Our gift, because it came first from God, is of value regardless of how others value it or don’t.  Enter every place you go giving the gift that is ours, saying,   “‘Peace to this house.’”  Then listen and watch for those who want the peace we’ve come to share.  Whether our biographers are someday able to say we lived a rich life no matter what our net worth or they have to rename us Ms. or Mr. I Don’t Have Much no matter what our wealth, will have to do with how well we live by this principle.  We don’t have what everyone needs.  But, God will bring people into our lives who will give us the greatest hospitality of all, listening ears and open hearts.  We are to live being more concerned about giving our gift to those who want it than reacting to those who do not. 

In earlier days, I was a youth minister to a very sad young man.  Whatever self-esteem is, he didn’t have a lick of it even though he came from a very prominent and wealthy family.  He was so emotionally needy; being around him could suck the life right out you.  He acted out his insecurities in sometimes very obnoxious ways.  People avoided him.  He had no friends as I could tell and his classmates shunned him.  Many never knew the story behind his face was one scarred with multiple childhood surgeries.  Born with a severe defect, he’d been at death’s door frequently before his first day of school.  For some reason, he liked being around me.  He was so naďve that, even after he went off to college, he came to see me on the day before his wedding.  Sitting in my living room just hours from his first night to ever be with a woman, he asked, “When I get to the bedroom, what do I do?”  I’m not sure what it was that made him assume I knew something about that! 

It’s tempting in ministry, just as it is at school and in business, to work at attracting only the brightest and most beautiful.  It’s amazing how blind we can be to what that ought to tell us about ourselves that we have such a need.  Anyway, God keeps sending people my way on the journey who, like this kid, are haunted by echoes of emptiness ringing from some deep unexplored void in their souls.  No matter how attractive the faces, the stories behind them are strikingly familiar.  They not only remind me of how, to God, all of his creation is beautiful but that my story fits theirs.  When I’ve explored the bottomless pits in the dark recessed canyons of my soul, when I’ve actually had the courage to do that, I’ve always found the most amazing thing.  Stepping off the last rung of the ladder, I always find Jesus waiting there to reassure me of his love despite what he found long before I had the courage to look.  My gift seems to be helping those who, because they know the story behind it, have no hope for the face they see in the mirror; I’ve struggled for so long with my own reflection. 

Anyway, I honestly didn’t hold out much hope for this kid.  As time went by, however, he’d call from time to time and I began to notice two things.  First, God was slowly but surely redeeming his once hopeless story.  This once needy kid was becoming stronger, more stable and even happy with each passing year.  And, he always thanked me, every time, for the times I had time for him.  He’s been married now for about fifteen years.  He and his wife have two beautiful children.  I guess he got the bedroom part figured out.  And, he’s gone on to finish dual degrees in law and business and earn the right to put “Dr.” in front of his name.  He’s now a professor in a Christian university.  What’s more, he’s growing and finding life to be full of joy and hope.

I think about him from time to time.  And, when his face flashes across my memory, I’m reminded that significant and meaningful living doesn’t have anything to do with the stuff I’m collecting.  It’s about the lives God gives me the privilege of touching.  And, I’m reminded that, if this day is to count for what is ultimately good, I’d better spend it eating what God puts before me.

Amen.