This sermon kicks off a new sermon series, titled God of the Gaps. The title refers to the theological argument that ascribes to God any unexplainable phenomenon. For example, "Since we cannot prove how life started, it must have started due to an act of God." The problem with this type of theological argument (which many theologians dismiss as spurious logic) is that God is always reduced and exiled to the ever-diminishing realms of the unknown.
We will come back and look at the implications of the God-of-the-gaps argument over the next several weeks. However, to some extent, the argument has merit—albeit not in the way it is intended. A common theme throughout the OT is that whenever life gets too easy, self-satisfied humans tend to drift away from God. Pain, suffering, human limitations, and our innate depravity cut through our delusions of self-reliance and reassert a fundamental truth: as much as we wish to be our own gods (and the self-appointed god for others around us) we are incompetent deities.
Much of what is valuable in Christian spirituality derives not from futile imitations of divinity, but from the humble acceptance of our human frailty. There is a gap between what we imagine ourselves to be and what we are, a gap between whom we were created to be and who we have become. That is the ever-present gap in which we will find God, a gap that will never disappear, because even as we grow in our faith, we realize how far we have yet to go.
Luke 12:13-21
Commentary
v15 John Calvin writes of this verse, "These words point out the inward fountain and source, from which flows the mad eagerness for gain. It is because the general belief is, that a man is happy in proportion as he possesses much, and that the happiness of life is produced by riches. Hence arise those immoderate desires, which, like a fiery furnace, send forth their flames, and yet cease not to burn within."
v17 John Calvin says, "Wicked men are driven to perplexity in their deliberations, because they do not know how any thing is to be lawfully used; and, next, becuase they are intoxicated with a foolish confidence that makes them forget themselves. Thus we find that this rich man lengthens out his expectation of life in proportion to his large income, and drives far away from him the remembrance of death. And yet this pride is accompanied by distrust; for those men, when they have had their fill, are still agitated by insatiable desire, like this rich man, who enlarges his barns, as if his belly, which had been filled with his former barns, had not got enough."
v19 eat, drink, and be merry. Calvin says, "[T]here is an emphatic meaning in this Hebrew idiom; for he addresses himself in such a manner as to imply, that he has all that is necessary for gratifying all his senses and all his desires."
v20 your life. The word here is generally translated elsewhere in the NT as "soul."
v21 stores up. More than prudent stockpiling, the idea here is more like treasure. For a good idea of how this word is used elsewhere in the NT, check out Matt. 6:19-21.
Application
In Our Greatest Gift, Henri Nouwen recounts a time a friend asked him over dinner, "Where and how do you want to die?" Nouwen reflected:
Are we preparing ourselves for our death, or are we ignoring death by keeping busy? (pp xvi)
The rich man in the parable represents the extreme position taken by many in life: amass ever more of whatever is precious to you in a vain attempt to cheat death. Fill your time with whatever brings you the most pleasure in the moment (Eat! Drink! Be Merry!) and maybe you can string together enough pleasurable moments that you can dismiss the nagging fear that life is out of control and you are losing ground, even as you are capturing moments of pleasure. The rich man represents the extreme position many of us take, but the Bible is replete with other examples, many of which are catalogued in Ecclesiastes through Solomon’s vain attempts to find meaning in life, including: wisdom (1:12-18); pleasures (2:1-11); work (2:17-26); achievement (4:13-16); and wealth (5:8-20).
We falsely assume that either God is not out there, he is not interested in our welfare, he is not watching, or he is incapable of rescuing us. The good news of Jesus Christ is that God is out there, he is interested, he is watching, and he has come—and is coming—to intervene in our lives. Like the rich man, we have tried to wrest control of our lives, only to find out that we are out of control and cannot maintain control. Nouwen says:
The main question is not, How much will we be able to do during the few years we have left to live? but rather, How can we prepare ourselves for our death in such a way that our dying will be a new way for us to send our and God’s spirit to those whom we have looked and who have loved us? (pp xvi-xvii)
Praise be to God, his rescue turns out to be something better than we could have imagined. In the giving over of ourselves to God, we find out that a life poured out in service to God—and in turn in service to others—does not drain us. Instead, paradoxically, we discover that we are filled, even as we become whom we were created to be.
The Discipline of Kenosis: Emptying Yourself
If hyper-consumerism and self-aggrandizement are the vain attempts to fill oneself with goods that will fail to satisfy, the other end of the scale is kenosis, the emptying or pouring out of oneself (materially, emotionally, and spiritually) as a sacrifice. As we simplify, as we let go of attachments to the world, as we are pour ourselves out in service to others, paradoxically we may experience identification with Jesus Christ and be filled by Holy Spirit. This, like all spirituality, is a work of God—not a work of our own hard labor.
In the NT, kenosis is best displayed in Philippians 2, where Paul says Christ was poured out for us (v5-11) and Paul himself was being poured out for the church (v14-18).
Points to Ponder
What might a life poured out in service to God and other have looked like to the rich man of the parable?
Many religions, including Christianity, sometimes try to define spirituality through the via negativa—the negative way—defining what it is not. T.S. Eliot described the spiritual path of the negative way in his poem East Coker:
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.
The first step of the negative way is today’s sermon title—there is a God, and you are not him. See in the negative way kenosis at work, striping away every pretense that would keep us from a right relationship with God:
The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. (2 Cor. 10:4-5)