Kingdom First

Kingdom First--February 16, 2017

"Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.  But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." [Matthew 6:31-33]

Ok, true story.  Two days ago, at about 5:30 in the evening, my daughter looked at me with pouting lips and crossed arms and said, "I want a snack!"  And my immediate response to her was literally the following sentence: "Honey, I just told you it is dinner time.  Come right here to the table, and we will eat supper!"  And, of course, in perfect three-year-old logic, she responded angrily in frustration: "I don't want dinner!  I'm hungry--I only want a snack!"

Her hunger was real, but she was locked into how that hunger was supposed to be dealt with: not a full meal of spaghetti and meatballs and broccoli and applesauce, but a packet of fruit snacks or popcorn or something.  In her mind, only something in a brightly colored package, preferably being sold by a cartoon animal of some kind on the label, would address her hunger. 

Of course, any adult knows that a little baggie of gummy-style fruit snacks is hardly going to fill a growling tummy, while a plate of noodles and meatballs will do the trick every time.  And, probably, at some level, my daughter knew it, too.... and yet there we were anyway, with her pouting on the dining room floor, convinced that the only thing that would really meet her need was a "snack" rather than a meal. 

Now, to be honest here, the elegance of being a parent of a three-year-old is that I have the right of overruling requests that would not really be good for her.  If I caved in to my smart, beautiful (but three-year-old) daughter's demand and gave her only a package of eight raisin-sized gummy "things" in shades of neon red and orange and yellow, instead of giving her a full supper, she would have been hungry almost immediately despite her insistence that she "did not want dinner" at all, but "only a snack."  So, using my parental prerogative, guess what--she got a plate at dinner anyway, and she got some noodles and sauce and all the rest offered to her, despite her indignant look before the table blessing.  And guess what--it turns out she was hungry for dinner after all... and what do you know, but noodles and meatballs and broccoli and all the rest did the trick.  Wonder of wonders, right?

Sometimes it is a gift of grace to get overruled.

Look, with kids, this is all part of what it is to grow up.  We all went through the phase.  We all have to go through the experience of having our hopes set on some small thing, that we think will be great, only to discover our vision was too short-sighted... or the thing we thought we wanted wasn't all it was cracked up to be... or that our parents were wiser than we realized and wanted to give us what we really needed all along, but we didn't recognize it at the time... or all of the above.  All of us have been my three-year-old daughter at some point--our hopes pinned on something so narrowly that we cannot recognize at the moment that what we really need is both much bigger and also right in front of us, as available for the taking as spaghetti on a plate. 

The shame is when we get stuck in that childish view long past our time.  The shame is when we find ourselves in adulthood but still striving after a list of shiny, excitingly packaged "stuff" that never satisfies, when God has been calling us to dinner all along.  The shame is when we are spiritual toddlers convinced that we don't want a full meal--no, by golly, we are hungry! We want a snack!  And so we strive after all the things we have been told will make us happy, will make us content, will finally give us the good life.  And what do you know... they leave us feeling hungry. 

Maybe, worse than that, they leave us feeling... empty.

Jesus, of course, has never been fooled, and has been telling us all along what it is that we are aching for.  "Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness," says the NRSV.  Or, if you like, "Seek first for God's Reign in all things, and God's kind of justice..." And what do you know, but everything else you really need will come along for the ride.  Maybe Jesus knows what we really need more than we know it ourselves.  Maybe, like a toddler infatuation with colorful, cartoon-emblazoned packaging, we have consented to wanting what the voices in the marketing department have told us we should want, rather than what we really need.

See, that's just it--God's Reign, God's way of ordering things, really is the best possible life for us.  When Jesus says, "Seek first the Kingdom, and then all these things will be given to you as well," he is not saying, "Pay your dues and do something for God, and then you will win a prize." He is not saying, "Do this unpleasant chore, and then you'll be given your allowance and you can buy what you want."  Rather it's more like we are the stubborn toddlers who think that fruit snacks will fill our bellies while he has been offering us the meal that really will satisfy us.  Jesus doesn't say, "Seek first the kingdom" as a "You-scratch-God's-back-and-then-God-will-scratch-yours" kind of deal.  Rather Jesus is saying, "The hunger you are feeling is real, but you are focusing on a snack that won't deal with the empty feeling when I am offering you daily bread that will make you full."

That's why Jesus is relentless in his insistence that God's Reign come first in our lives.  It's not because God needs our labor first before God starts doling out rewards.  It's that God's Reign is what we have most needed all along.  What is out of order in our lives on our own is our refusal to let God's priorities, God's kind of gracious love, God's kind of surprising justice, God's kind of truth-telling, give shape to our thoughts and actions.  It turns out Jesus just plain knows better than we give him credit for. And Jesus knows that having more money, or more stuff, or more influence, or the illusion of greater security, or more prestige for me and my group, or whatever else... will not really make me more fulfilled in my deepest self.  Those things will only give me at best a momentary bit of flavor before they leave me feeling just as empty as before and even more disillusioned.  Anything that comes first, anything that gets first place in our lives before God's Reign is going to let us down.  The dissatisfaction I get when my new promotion turns out not to be as great as I had been hoping, or when the new romantic interest turns out to have clay feet like all the others before, or when the extra money in my paycheck still doesn't make all my problems disappear, these things are not punishments from God for picking the wrong priority--they are simply what happens when you expect a baggie of fruit snacks to fill a stomach that is hungry for a real meal.

So here's the challenge for today. We will examine our priorities.  And any place in our lives where we would put something other than "The Reign of God" in the blank space before " __________ First!", we will confess that we have been misguided.  Money first, job first, life-plan-of-climbing-up-the-ladder-of-success first, cookie-cutter-family-picture first, even country-first or church-organization-first... these are all bound to let us down.  Jesus doesn't say, "Make sure you put your new job ahead of loving your neighbor--that's just good career advice!" And he doesn't say, "Teach your kid to punch first rather than getting punched, or else they'll be losers!"  Nope, it's not about self first or money first or reputation first.  It's about allowing God's priorities to become our priorities, about letting God's values inform our own, about letting Jesus tell us, "No, the fruit snacks won't fill what is empty--trust me on this one" and then letting him give us the gift of the full meal we didn't think we wanted.

Today, what if we dared to grow up, and to let Jesus give us what he sees we have needed all along? What if we skipped the temper tantrum from not getting our way, and instead allowed the possibility that Jesus' way was better than our own from the start?  What if we dared to strive for God's rule in our lives more and more fully, inviting God to rearrange the furniture in our hearts more and more completely, before brining anything else in to our lives or our hearts?

What if, in other words, we dared to let--as the psalmist puts it--God set a table before us, even in the presence of our enemies, while our cups overflow and a meal is spread out that will really satisfy the emptiness?

Lord Jesus, let your way be first in our lives.   Let your movement animate us first in our lives.  Let your love be the first influence in our lives.