At that time of life, all pretense is gone. All need to
impress anyone has disappeared, and it becomes evident what is truly important
to these old folks.
As I visit with these people, do you know what we talk about
more than anything else?
They do not tell me about how much money they made, or how big their house was or how many houses they had. They don’t tell me about how much land they once owned or the biggest buck that they ever shot. I have never had anyone tell me the lowest golf score they ever played or that they were part owners of the Green Bay Packers and that they went to the Super Bowl that one year way back when.
They do not tell me about how much money they made, or how big their house was or how many houses they had. They don’t tell me about how much land they once owned or the biggest buck that they ever shot. I have never had anyone tell me the lowest golf score they ever played or that they were part owners of the Green Bay Packers and that they went to the Super Bowl that one year way back when.
Do you know what these old folks talk about more than
anything else? They talk about people—they talk about the people that have been
part of their lives. They talk about their mothers and their fathers. They tell
me about their husbands and their wives, their sons and daughters, uncles and
aunts, and about their most significant friends. They tell me about the people
in their lives that have influenced them in some way, or they tell me about
people who have had an important part in their lives.
I don’t hear about how wisely these old folks made their
financial investments and what the percent of growth they managed to get
through the years. Rather than that, I hear about how they were once in deep
trouble and someone came to their aid, or about that time someone else was in
trouble and how they were able to help them.
Rather than hearing
about the investments of their money that they have made, I hear about the
investments that they have made in the lives of people.
In the past two weeks, I spoke at the funerals of two
separate friends of mine. One of these funerals was just yesterday. These were
two individuals who were not only my friends, but they were people whom I
admired greatly. They each had their own uncanny knack for knowing when someone
needed help, and never failed to step in. They were people who invested their
lives in people.
The Apostle Paul was also one who invested his life in
people. He wrote to his friends in the city of Philippi:
I thank my God in
all my remembrance of you, always offering prayer with joy in my every prayer for
you all, in view of your participation in the gospel from the first day until
now. For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in
you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. For it is only right for me
to feel this way about you all, because I have you in my heart. (Philippians 1:3-7 NAS)
Paul actually had a lot going for him in his life in the
world before he forsook everything to answer the call of God upon him. Paul had
pedigree and he had influence. He was educated in the best schools and was well
respected among his peers.
But of this life he said, “Whatever things were gain to me,
those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ” (Philippians 3:7).
Part of what that meant for Paul was that he invested his
life in people instead of things.
We have just celebrated our Thanksgiving week. It was this
week, specifically on Thursday, that was set aside as a time to give thanks to
God for the many blessings in our lives. All of us here can give thanks for the
abundance of what God has given us in our lives. I know that there are people
in our country that do not have enough to eat, but even the poorest among us
have many more opportunities than a very great number of people in the world.
We are truly blessed in this way.
At many thanksgiving gatherings, people often express thanks
for those things for which they have been blessed, and these things are
numerous. But above all, thanksgiving for many mostly revolves around family.
If we come from a family whose God is the Lord, our thanks is to God for our
families.
I think that this is a priority that we should maintain with
Thanksgiving. Increasingly, the aspect of giving thanks for our families and
even the value of the family gathering itself is being crowded out by other
pursuits. I am afraid that shopping is the most pernicious of these pursuits.
We first had Black Friday and now we have Black Friday eve, Cyber Monday and
probably all the days in between. The fact of the matter is, we love to buy
stuff.
I am not a prude when it comes to taking advantage of
getting in on some deals, but do we not see that our love for things is slowly
edging out our love for people? We are beginning to be influenced to think that
our lives will be full and meaningful if we are surrounded by many and
expensive things instead of even a
few but very significant people.
I am afraid that our American capitalist economic system
drives this in part. Not that I am a socialist by any means. I have seen by my
years spent in Venezuela what the system of socialism brings about.
Own system of capitalism is a driver of innovation, and that
can be a good thing, but I am afraid that it is not always the type of innovation
that brings about true improvement of our lives. Our capitalist industry is
mostly driven to instill in us a need to buy just stuff—things. These are not things that bring improvement in our
lives, but rather take true meaning away from us.
Unfortunately, it sometimes takes tragedy for us to realize
this fact. How many times have you seen a family on the evening news who had
just suffered a devastating fire or a flood in their home and who had lost everything—everything that is, except
their family. Their family survived.
I am not putting any judgment on what any of these
individuals’ lives were like beforehand, but what we often hear is, “We only
lost stuff. We can rebuild and
replace, but thankfully our family survived.”
What they say may be almost have become a cliché, but it is
true. We can get over the loss of things. We never get over the loss of
people—not completely.
We do not know much about the Apostle Paul’s personal life.
He seems not to have been married, since he once spoke wistfully about the
possibility of having a believing wife with him on his journeys, as did Peter
and some of the other apostles (1
Corinthians 9:5).
Instead of a family in the traditional sense, Paul looked to
those whom he trained in the Christian faith as being his family of sorts. It
was not only the church in Philippi, but the other churches as well, and
especially of those helpers who traveled around with him.
He calls Timothy, “My true child in the faith” (1 Timothy 1:2).
To the Ephesian church he wrote this: “I am continually
giving thanks for you and remembering you in my prayers. I pray that the God of
our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom
and of revelation in the knowledge of him” (Ephesians 1:16-17).
Paul invested his life in people. Not only that, was also an
investment advisor. Here is some of his investment advice:
Now he who supplies
seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store
of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. You will be
enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and
through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God. This service
that you perform is not only supplying the needs of the Lord’s people but is
also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God. (2 Corinthians 9: 10-12 NIV)
The Old Testament prophet Hosea was also an investment
advisor. He told his nation of Israel that they had invested foolishly in their
lives because they had trusted in their own judgment about what would bring
them security.
Like a man who constantly looked to the stock market or to
other investments to get the highest yields so that they would have security
for the future, the Israelites were looking to their own strength.
“You have plowed wickedness, you have reaped injustice,” he
told the people. “You have eaten the fruit of lies, because you have trusted in
your way, in your numerous warriors.”
His advice? “Sow with a view to righteousness. Reap in
accordance with kindness. Break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek
the Lord until He comes to rain righteousness on you” (Hosea 10:13, 12).
In the work that I did in Latin America years ago, I
traveled to many countries and often to quite remote places. Several years ago,
I found myself standing in the shade of a spreading mango tree behind a little
church in the similarly little village of San Antonio, in the Central American
country of Belize.
The day was hot, and I had been sweating from walking
outside. It was still the middle of the day, but there in the shade I felt a
breeze blowing through the green leaves of the tree. The air swirled over my
face and then down my open collar, and it felt like the coolness of the shade
was washing down my shirt to refresh the energy that had been drained away by
the sun of the morning.
I was listening to an older man named Arturo tell me about
the old days in the village. It was the village where my uncle Ed and his wife,
Jewell, had served as missionaries many years earlier.
Arturo told me that
San Antonio is surrounded by two rivers so that the village is really on an
island. There is now a bridge, but it was not so many years ago that it had
been built. I learned about the ferry that used to cross the river and how, if
someone returned to San Antonio too late in the evening from Orange Walk Town,
they had to swim the river to get home. Electricity had only come into the
village about ten years before.
I listened to the story of how the first church was
constructed with bricks made by hand. It was built, Arturo told me, even before
he was a Christian. He showed me what was once the pastor’s house. It is no
longer used and has somewhat fallen into disrepair.
“This house,” he told me, “is where your uncle and aunt
lived when they started the church.”
“This mango tree also has a history,” Arturo told me. “Mr.
Blomberg,” as he called my uncle, “brought it here, dug a big hole and put in
the tree, and filled in the rest of the hole with fertile soil.” I looked up
through its leaves. It had grown tall and had spread its branches wide.
“Over there,” he said, pointing with his chin as they do in
Belize, “is where your uncle and aunt had their garden.
“Mr. Blomberg is my spiritual father,” he told me.
I felt a little odd. I was standing in that spot for the
first time, but in a strange way I felt a little tied to the soil. I also felt
a remote kinship to the town and even to Arturo himself.
The house had fallen into disrepair, as houses do if no one
is there to care for them. Houses are actually a very poor investment, if one
is investing for eternity.
But Arturo, although then an old man in his body, was
flourishing in his spirit. As illustrated by the mango tree itself, he was
alive and he was growing. His roots had penetrated deep into the Word of God.
Arturo talked about the first baptism in San Antonio. It was
held in a cenote.
“Let’s go and see it,” he suggested. “It’s not far.”
A cenote is a small, even tiny, and almost always round
natural pool. Cenotes are scattered throughout many areas of the Yucatán
peninsula and down into Belize. The whole peninsula of the Yucatán is a huge
limestone shelf jutting up into the Caribbean Sea. It is the limestone that
gives the water of the cenotes a rich turquoise color. They are generally very
deep, and many contain Mayan artifacts.
We walked down to the cenote, and Arturo told me how they
had made steps down into the water and, with stones, they built a little
platform under the water. It was there where my uncle Ed stood with the person
that he was baptizing. I was very glad that I could see this place.
God is a God of history. He is working in this present day,
but what he is doing today has grown out of what he has done in the past. And
what we see God doing today will in turn become the basis of what he will do
tomorrow.
We walked back to the mango tree. My uncle Ed was no longer
living in Belize. His house has fallen into disrepair, but the tree he had
planted continues to flourish. It was not only the mango tree that he had
planted and nourished but also the church that stood next to where it grew and
the people who worshiped there. Arturo himself found his spiritual roots in the
teachings that my uncle had brought to that village.
Jesus tells us this: “You did not choose me, but I chose you
and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and
so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you.”
And here is how Jesus concluded this thought. It is the best
investment advice you will ever hear.
“This is my commandment: Love one another
other” (John 15:16-17).
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