Luke 12:35-48 · Watchfulness
The Fear Of Taking The Plunge
Luke 12:35-48
Sermon
by Richard Patt
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In a lengthy paragraph just before this text Jesus told the disciples to relax and enjoy life as it comes to them. Many of the phrases in that speech have become legendary: "... do not be anxious about your life ... which of you by being anxious can add a cubit to his span of life? ... Consider the lilies, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin...." In short Jesus was coaxing the disciples with the appeal, "Let go, and let God."

But after saying all that, Jesus realized that such appeals scare most of us half to death. So he adds those comforting words: "Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." Jesus enjoins the disciples not to get hung up on fear as he issues yet another drastic appeal: "Sell your possessions, and give alms...."

What were the disciples afraid of? They were afraid of the same thing you and I are -- of taking the plunge. They were scared to death, and so are we, when asked to neutralize their lives to the point that they are depending on God as much as they were on their assets. In fact, Jesus suggested that they reconfigure their lives to the extent that they were totally depending on God and his goodness. Such a prospect frightened them to no end. So, first of all, Jesus encouraged them here, "Fear not, little flock."

Jesus tried to bring some rationale to his appeal by reminding the disciples that by taking such a plunge they will then be basing their future welfare on "a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys." Jesus was suggesting that, unlike banking on their own possessions (which are unpredictable), they can have a totally predictable future by relying on God's never-failing fatherly care.

The Scandinavian philosopher of the last century, Soren Kierkegaard, called it "the leap of faith." Today let's just call it "taking the plunge," and then ask the question: "Why is there so much fear about that?"

The obvious reason for our fear of taking the plunge is that we trust in our own assets more than we do in God's promises. Note the word "promise." Frankly most of us have difficulty believing anything could be much more promising than the status quo. We surmise: If something isn't broken, why fix it? But the fact is that in many respects people today do regard their current lot as being precisely that: fragmented, broken, disgustingly status quo and going nowhere. Longing to walk in the sweet-smelling lilies of the field, they continue groveling in the paralyzing pollution of their own anxiety: They are afraid to move.

That last statement can be taken quite literally. I once was in a conversation where one person in the group announced that he and his wife were moving to a more remote area of the state. Immediately others in the group objected, sounding as though they feared for the couple's well-being. These were the questions they asked: How can you give up the familiarity of this town? How do you know you'll ever feel at home in the new place? Can you stand to be away from your friends? Will you find a house there as nice as the one you live in now? Will you adjust to new doctors and dentists and will such people even be accessible to you in that remote area? As one listening to all of this, it dawned on me that many of the people asking such questions were exhibiting a fear about routine change that bordered on paranoia. Frankly they appeared scared to death for this man and his wife.

In her book called Dakota, Kathleen Norris, a best-selling writer and poet, tells how she and her husband, also a writer, moved away from the heady literary atmosphere and advantages of New York City to one of the most remote towns in America, Lemmon, South Dakota. She relates how most of her friends were shocked by their contemplated move. The prospects for even reasonable survival as thinking persons seemed as remote as the little town they chose to live in. But Kathleen Norris subtitled her book "A Spiritual Geography," because it was in that sparse geography that she found her own spirit more than ever. In Lemmon, South Dakota, she blossomed as the person and writer she suspected she could be. Most of her self-discovery was pleasing and would have been impossible had she insisted on remaining in the "safe" literary environment of New York. Jesus says, "Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom," and we might add, "kingdoms you never dreamed possible." People find this out when they take the plunge. What are we afraid of?

So hear this word again! "Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." What is this kingdom? Jesus never crisply defines it for us anywhere in the Gospels. Nor does he here. But he always promises that the kingdom is a domain where God's grace and abundance can be experienced. Part of our typical limited view as human beings produces in us the conviction that the best of life is probably happening right now where we are, in "our little part of the kingdom," as we put it. We often bar ourselves from experiencing the exhilaration and challenge of a new kingdom by determining not to budge from the nice little setup we have concocted for ourselves. As a result, we fly low when we could be soaring. We hedge about believing that God "will bear us up on eagle's wings" when we take the plunge.

But Jesus adds another dimension to all of this when he introduces the idea about "being ready." He says, "Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning, and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home ..." (vv. 35-36). Then he adds, "You also must be ready" (v. 40). Ready for what? Ready to move somewhere? Perhaps. As we've said, it might not be a bad idea to be open to entertaining such a prospect as one option. Ready for the end? Yes, Jesus does seem to indicate something like that when he concludes this text with the words, "... the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour" (v. 40). Does not Jesus mean here that we should be prepared for any and all of the surprising opportunities of life -- for those unplanned times when positive challenges and alternatives of life are thrust upon us?

Let us examine this thought in connection with one of the big negatives of life -- the reality and presence of physical illness. Nobody welcomes physical illness; there is usually a jolting feeling connected with finding out we're ill. But I have come to discover that the person who has a regular pattern of daily commending life and limb to the Lord and his keeping is correspondingly able to handle illness well. In fact part of getting well is handling our illnesses well -- handling all of life well, really, by allowing God to handle it: letting go and letting God.

Of course, I'm not saying here that faith overcomes all illness, but faith does carry us through our illnesses and any other challenge of life. In this connection, Jesus often introduced the imagery of storehouses into his conversations. He mentions such "storehousing" in the paragraph immediately before this text and in a parable earlier in the same chapter. Admittedly, when he was talking in those instances about putting things away for the future -- storehousing -- he was viewing the practice in a slightly negative way. But along with the idea of total faith in God, are there not positive kinds of storehousing you and I could be doing, so that we are prepared to meet some of the future occasions of life?

How about this matter of growing old, for instance? We could better meet the challenges of an aging body by being careful not to abuse the body in younger years. The same goes for the mind. The healthier and happier relationships are in younger years, the more joyous will be memories of them as we grow older. We will then have few regrets and will rest in the satisfaction that earlier days were filled with achievement and pleasure. We will grow older with a sense of fulfillment, not frustration. This positive kind of storehousing in earlier years will serve us well in later years.

Whether we realize it or not, our minds are automatic storehouses, not unlike any computer with the capacity for memory storing. For instance, things we literally memorize now can serve us well when life sends us a challenge. Dr. Walter W. Stuenkel, the retired president of Concordia University in Wisconsin, was well-known in the Milwaukee area for a particularly powerful element in his preaching. He had at his command literally thousands of Bible passages and traditional hymn verses -- any of which he was able to bring to the surface at will, because he knew them all from memory! It aided his ability as a speaker immensely. But now, over 85 years old, living in retirement in Arizona, these thousands of literary treasures continue to be a blessing in his life as he devotionally recalls any and all of them for the sake of his own personal spiritual welfare and encouragement. Nothing can destroy and no moth can eat through his trusted storehouse! In a similar vein, I am acquainted with a host of elderly people whose poor eyesight makes it almost impossible for them to read Scripture or a hymnal anymore. But they too have a treasure of memorized Bible verses and hymns that they have known since childhood. They have instant recall of a valuable storehouse that brings comfort to their souls.

Elderly people also face the challenge of filling up the time at their disposal. But some of them have no trouble with that at all, because in earlier years they developed interest and expertise in a variety of cultural and mental activities that have now become a valuable storehouse upon which they draw. Music, literature, hobbies and arts fill their hours as they maintain a fascination with life and its rich spectrum of offerings. For them the plunge into retirement has not been half bad.

Not the least of the things that can prepare us to meet life's challenges is developing a rich cadre of friends. The old saying goes, "I get by with a little help from my friends." Sometimes that is all you need when the road gets bumpy -- a few friends who will support and affirm you. Those who are wise have previously taken time to nurture and maintain friendships -- that rich storehouse of other human beings with whom we can share the burdens that weigh us down (and, conversely, through whom we can sometimes get the attention off of ourselves by listening to their burdens and dreams). Conquering the frontier of aging becomes easier when we prepare for the plunge.

When you read through the Gospels carefully, you will note that Jesus was constantly forging new frontiers. He was not fearful about plunging into new territory. For him, as an example, illness was not something to which we always have to resign ourselves; we can challenge our sicknesses when we are open to God's healing power. The Gospel writers frequently point out that certain people with whom Jesus dealt were blind from birth or were physically disabled for decades, or they had a dreaded disease that was hopelessly incurable, like leprosy. Jesus took the leap of faith -- or rather brought others to the point of taking a leap of faith -- so that wholeness of life and limb nevertheless became a possibility.

Jesus also plunged into new territory by challenging some of the exclusivity of his native culture. He dared to believe that all people are children of the heavenly Father -- even those in Samaria, even women, even Gentiles, even publicans and other sinners. While others stood in fear of acknowledging anyone outside the house of Israel, Jesus forthrightly embraced all persons as being in the fold of God's love. He could have been afraid; he should have been afraid, because by exhibiting such an open attitude he might end up being crucified some day. But Jesus did what he did because he had a vision of the kingdom; he knew it was his Father's good pleasure to give him a kingdom yet unknown: to bestow on all the world a future fellowship that was more grace-filled, more loving, more beautifully integrated and catholic than anyone had previously imagined or experienced. Yes, before its time Jesus had the vision of "one, holy, catholic church, the communion of saints."

All of this suggests that the church too could probably use a good dose of such pioneering spirit. The organization of the Church needs to take a leap of faith -- perhaps a giant leap -- in order to recapture the vision of one Church under the benevolent lordship of Jesus Christ. Much of the machinery of the Church today seems to be just that -- machinery: toiling and spinning, anxious over maneuvering its own life and future. The Church needs to let go and let God!

All of this finally comes down to the stirring verse 34, where Jesus says in summary, "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." We know what our treasure is in the church. We place it at the center of our altars and at the top of our steeples everywhere. The cross is our jewel and the substance of everything for which we stand. It is "a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys." In the cross our salvation is signed, sealed, and delivered. Now it is our turn to take up the cross and follow him -- even when it means taking the plunge. "

CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio, All Stirred Up, by Richard Patt