Miracles at the Lamppost

Miracles at the Lamppost--February 8, 2017

"As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, ready to share, thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life." [1 Timothy 6:17-19]

So... here's the thing: we don't have to live our lives straining at fly specks anymore.  We never did.

One of my favorite scenes in the classic Jimmy Stewart movie, Harvey, (based on the stage play of the same name) is this great speech by the psychiatrist, Dr. Chumley.  Chumley has been questioning Jimmy Stewart's character, Elwood P. Dowd, about his pal Harvey, the six-foot tall rabbit that only he can see. Earlier in the story Elwood had recounted how he had first met the magical pooka one day walking downtown ("on Fairfax Street, between 18th and 19th," he notes) when he saw the rabbit leaning against the lamppost and calling him by name, "Good evening, Mr. Dowd." 

Well, eventually, even the psychiatrist comes to believe that the six-foot tall rabbit is real, after all, and experiences some of Harvey's magic himself.  And finally, Dr. Chumley exclaims, "Fly specks!  I've been spending my life among fly specks when miracles have been leaning against lampposts at 18th and Fairfax!"  The old doctor finally admits that dthe universe has been much bigger, more mysterious, and a good deal more interesting, than he had ever bargained for.  As outlandish as it had seemed at first, he comes to a place of seeing that he had been settling for so much less in his view of the world than had been there all along, awaiting his openness to it.

Something like that happens, too, when we find ourselves opened up to seeking God's vision for life in our world, rather than pursuing our own narrow, petty interests.  All this month, we are looking at what happens when we take our own self-centered question, "What do I want... and how do I used God to get it?" and instead turn the question upside down to become, "What does God want for the world, and how can I be used in living that vision out?" 

Look, I get it: at first blush, all this talk of putting God's priorities first sound may sound like a theological equivalent of "Eat your lima beans."  It sounds like it will cost us the really good life, and that God is going to be a wet blanket on all of our fun and make us sing horribly starch old hymns on uncomfortable pews forever.

But that's not how the New Testament itself sees things.  Rather, like these verses from 1 Timothy dare to suggest, God's vision for life--for all--is "the life that really is life."  The audacious idea here is that, yes, God's desire for us is to be radically other-oriented, and yet, that this is really the best possible life for all of us anyway.  It's not "settling" for less to let God direct us to be generous--it's not that we are going to feel mopey and unsatisfied because we are sharing what we have.  But rather, we will find, according to 1 Timothy, that we are more in tune with what life was really all about all along!

We will find ourselves, rather like the old psychiatrist listening to Jimmy Stewart, realizing that all of our lives spent racking up "more" and hoarding it for ourselves has been like so many "fly specks," and all the while, there have been miracles leaning on the lamppost waiting for us.

Sometimes we hear voices around us moaning and complaining about how awful it is to have to be generous.  "It's my hard-earned money... why should I give it to someone else who hasn't worked for it?"  "I need to protect my own stuff--it's mine!"  "If I give to someone else, they won't appreciate it--they're probably lazy and should go get a job!"  But you know what is interesting as I read these verses from 1 Timothy?  They don't seem to be too interested in the "deserving" of the people we share with--in fact, this passage seems to be saying that regardless of who "gets" what I share, the act of being generous changes me in ways that open me up to the "life that really is life."  This passage isn't saying, "You have to share because God wants to punish hard workers," but rather it's more like, "Excessive stuff breeds idolatrous, life-squelching, stifling trust in your excessive stuff--and if you would rather not be encumbered by all that dead weight, learn to be generous."  It's more like it's saying, "If you are the one with a lot, boy do I pity and worry about you--you are much closer to missing the point of life by getting consumed by your consumption.  If you want to get more in touch with what God made life to be all about, it would be so much better to learn to be generous rather than to hoard what you have."

How many books and movies and blogs and life-coaches are there out there these days teaching people in affluent American how to "minimize" and "downsize" and "tidy up" their lives by getting rid of the excess we are drowning in?  Isn't that sadly ironic that after all these years of being told that "more" will make us happy, there is a new set of voices to tell us we would have been happier with less all along? 

Well here's the real secret--it's less about the number of possessions you have or the balance in your bank account, neither high nor low, and more about learning to be generous.  Generosity puts it in touch with the heart of God.  Practicing generosity isn't settling for less in this life--but, as 1 Timothy puts it, it gives us the life that really is life.  Instead of being the sad-sack crochety curmudgeon who is always complaining about how "they" want to "take away" what is "rightfully mine" (whoever "they" are...), you and I can be the people who joyfully reflect God's own joy in giving.  The New Testament seems to be pushing us to consider the question, "Would you rather have piles of stuff, safe and secure behind security systems, walls, and guns, and be miserable while you are cut off from everybody else around you (whom you can't help but see suspiciously as a threat to your stuff), or would rather be joyful because you are tapping in to the heart and character of the Reign of God by being generous?"

Well, which would you pick?  So many of the voices of our culture tell us, "You've got to look out for yourself and your stuff."  And then there is the voice of the Scriptures, which dare us to see a wider vision.  Whose voice will you grant the highest authority?  Which gets to direct the way you spend your day, your money, your time, your energy, your love, your lifetime?

You can pick to be consumed in holding onto your stuff, accumulating more, and keeping "those people" from getting it, I suppose.  Or... today can be the day you and I look up and find there was so much more we were being invited into all along.  There have been miracles leaning against lampposts all the while.

Lord God, open us to your vision, and let us be tapped into your own joyful generosity so that we can know the life that really is life.