Colossians 3:1
Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
5 August 2007
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
“Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!” [Ecclesiastes 1:2]
Have you ever felt that way? I know I have at times.
Those words, most likely penned by wise King Solomon some 3,000 years ago, seem to connect with us even today.
If you need proof of that, just look to an event of this past week. A clogged freeway – clogged with people heading home after a day of work and equally clogged with people heading to a baseball game – suddenly collapsed, dropping dozens and dozens of cars into the Mississippi River some 60 feet below. Many are hurt, emotionally and physically. Some are killed – that number is still being tabulated as I speak. In a literal split second, lives were forever changed – lives of those who were sitting on that clogged freeway bridge, lives of those connected to those sitting on that clogged freeway bridge, and lives of totally unrelated countless millions spread over thousands and thousands of miles who are even now left to wonder about the safety of places we travel daily.
I saw an interview following that tragedy. Maybe you did also. It was an interview with a husband and two daughters of a woman who died in that bridge collapse. She was painted by her husband and daughters in glowing words. She was a good, faithful wife and mother. She was a dedicated employee, who like most daily commuters, knew a number of alternate routes to get from here to there. For some reason, she decided to take the bridge route that fateful day, a route which she often avoided, because it seemed like traffic was moving better that day on the bridge. Within an hour previous to her death, she had spoken to both her husband and one daughter, ending those phone calls like most of us do, telling them that she loved them and would see them soon. Minutes later, she was dead. The comfort offered up by her husband and daughters was that at least she died driving her dream car – a Mercedes convertible.
Think about that for a second, then think again about King Solomon’s words: “Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!” Have you ever felt that way? I know I have at times, but hang with me for a few moments. I have an answer for that feeling that we all need to hear.
Jesus told a parable [Luke 12:13-21] that seems extremely appropriate given the events of this past week. The parable was about a man who had been extremely blessed by God. A farmer by trade, he had seen bumper crop after bumper crop. Instead of rejoicing, h e was faced with a real dilemma, at least in his own mind. Instead of asking himself why God had blessed him so richly and what might God want him to do with those blessings he had received, he instead asked himself, “What in the world am I to do? My barns aren’t big enough for all these blessings.” His God-given blessings became for him a curse as he decided that the only rational thing to do in that circumstance was that he’d have to meet with his banker and take out a loan, then work with an architect to design bigger barns, then work with a demolition crew to get rid of his old barns, then work with a contractor to build those new bigger and better barns, then work with the city permit department to make sure that the bigger barns met all current codes, then work with the city code enforcement officers who had received multiple complaints from his obviously jealous neighbors about the height and color and location of those barns, how his new bigger and better barns blocked what used to be their beautiful views of sunrises and sunsets. “Oy!,” the man must have surely thought, “It’s maybe better not to be blessed by God!” Then comes the real kicker! Jesus’ parable concludes with a sad statement of fact: “That very night his life was demanded of him.” You can write the rest of the parable yourself. His heirs came in, emptied out those barns, selling those bumper crops to the highest bidder. A “For Sale” sign was posted at the entrance to his property and, because of those new bigger and better barns, an extremely handsome profit was realized. “Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!”
No offense intended anyone, but hearing again that parable of Jesus and knowing how true to life that parable is, I must again say that I have the best job in the entire world. My job is so much better than any bank loan officer, so much better than any architect or contractor, so much better than any city official. All those people have important jobs, jobs that require much education and skill and talent and experience, but most jobs deal with tangible things, with things that are here today and possibly gone tomorrow. I get to deal with the souls of people, souls that are sometimes broken by circumstances of life in this world, but souls that will live for all time and all eternity. That’s what I get to work with on a daily basis, knowing that what I do every day as a pastor is not necessarily building for life in this world, but building life for all eternity.
St. Paul knew that heavy burden of life in this world. He knew that many people would face many trials and tribulations. He knew that most people would have occasion to view the events and things in this world, as enjoyable as they might be, as fleeting and tangible and maybe even useless and meaningless. That’s why St. Paul points our eyes Heavenward, encouraging us to “set your hearts on things above, not on earthly things” [Colossians 3:1].
Perhaps that’s the verse that was on Thomas Taylor’s mind as he fought the final battle of tuberculosis, dying at age 28. For Thomas Taylor, life on earth wasn’t meaningless. I’m sure he had many questions about life in this world, about why things happen the way they sometimes happen, but, in the end, he set his heart on things above: “I’m but a stranger here. Heaven is my home. Earth is a desert drear. Heaven is my home. Danger and sorrow stand, round me on every hand. Heaven is my fatherland. Heaven is my home.”
My friends in Christ, though it may sometimes seem like it to these human eyes, everything is not meaningless. If you can’t say it about anything else in this entire world, you can be sure that you have eternal meaning and purpose and value with God. I can say that confidently with no hesitation because your singular life compelled Jesus to leave His Home and His Throne and come to earth, to take off His beautifully perfect Heavenly garments and to clothe Himself in your flesh and blood, to experience first-hand your full range of joys and sorrows in life, then, when pushed to the ultimate limit of frustration and humiliation and hopelessness, to re-focus His eyes above, re-entering Heaven only after suffering death and conquering the grave. All that He did so that you could set your hearts on things above, so that you don’t have to run yourself into the grave chasing after things that are here today and gone tomorrow, but instead that you can rest in the sweet knowledge of what is yours in Jesus Christ, that great treasure prepared for each of us, where moth and rust do not destroy, where there are no disappointments, no unfulfilled dreams, no shattered hopes. That is your inheritance – and mine – thanks be to Jesus.
Meaningless? It indeed might seem that way at times, but allow the Holy Spirit to move you to set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the Right Hand of God and say along with Thomas Taylor and with me, “And I shall surely stand, there at my Lord’s Right Hand. Heaven is my fatherland. Heaven is my home.”
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Pastor Christopher Schaar
Historic First Lutheran Church of Pasadena