I’m on vacation. Nothing as interesting as Chevy Chase’s excursions mind you, (Russ!) but we did drive for a while with a dead relative strapped to the roof (just kidding). I love going to the beach. We go with our extended family and we stay in a house that we rent, eat subs and pizza and things, and spend as much time as possible soaking up the sun’s rays (with plenty of sunscreen of course) sitting alongside the big beautiful Atlantic Ocean.
Side note: When you apply SPF 15 sunscreen and then apply SPF 30 on top of that, do you wind up with SPF 45 or does it split the difference? Or does it always default to the highest SPF? This sounds like a middle school science fair project waiting to happen. Or I could call the Mythbusters.
Anyway, I was walking from our place to the beach (we are three houses from the beach, woohoo!) yesterday when I was struck by this overwhelming sense of how rich I am. Now, as I mentioned, our house is three houses from the beach, not right on the beach (I mean we’re not the Hiltons), and the only reason we can go is because my in-laws graciously pay for it. Still, though, I am super rich.
Think about it, I live in a country where I have a job, I can make money, and I have a fair enough employment gig that I get vacation time throughout the year. I walk from an air-conditioned beach house down a freshly paved street to a sandy beach that is remarkably free of trash (especially for New Jersey!), sit in a chair and read from a book, in between eating three meals a day, drinking clean water and bathing. Think of all of the places in the world where this is not even a remote reality (or even dream) for anyone but the ultra-rich.
And then, last night, I was sitting up in the middle of the night listening to this crazy thunderstorm roll through town. Wind, rain, thunder, lightning. But I never once worried about whether or not the rain was going to come through the roof. It would be silly to stress over the idea that the rain could cause the ground to become so muddy that sewage would seep up and run through our house. In fact, the only thing I did wonder was whether or not my beach chair (designed for outdoor use, mind you) would get soaked on the front balcony. Tis a rough life, I know.
While I was listening to the rain, I opened the fridge and grabbed a cold bottle of water to drink out of. Then I went and used the toilet (sorry, TMI); which flushed when I pushed a silver handle on the side...and did not empty directly into the street.
Before coming home last night, we walked the boardwalk where I debated between 4 different options for pizza, 3 different options for french fries, or 4 different options for ice cream. However, I was still so stuffed from dinner that I didn't even get anything.
Sometimes I sit on the beach, or on the couch, and I read. I read a book. In English.
Now, some people think about these things and it makes them feel guilty. I have long since lost any usefulness for guilt other than the guilt that springs forward to repentance. As I thought about my current surroundings I felt an intense sense of responsibility. I have been blessed beyond measure. "My cup overflows," as David writes in Psalm 23. The question becomes what will I do with all of it.
Jesus once told a parable which made a profound point: to whom much is given, much will be required. (Luke 12) The idea, throughout scripture, is that God's people take the blessings they have received and turn them into blessings for others.
We live in a society where if you have much, you shouldn't be expected to do as much. I know of a family that has a lot of money. They used some of that money to buy enough Roombas to cover every room in their house. So, if you happen to be at their house at a certain time during the day, all of a sudden (like a deleted scene from iRobot) all of the Roombas come out and start bouncing off of the furniture in their quest to clean all of the floors. Some would say that this is a convenience that they are entitled to. They have worked hard to get to this point. Because they have much, they can't be expected to do something as menial as vacuum their own floors.
But where does it stop? Since I have much, I shouldn't be expected to clean up after myself, help a person in need, pay my taxes on time (or ever), be held to the same level of accountability as everyone else, etc. etc. etc. Quickly, our wealth becomes a hall pass to do whatever we want. Because, after all, we earned it.
The Bible makes it clear, though, that everything we have comes from God. James writes, "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights who does not change like shifting shadows." Even if we "earned it," we did so with a body and brain we received from God. We have been given much. In fact, we have been given everything.
So what do we do? We have been given much, so do we ever stop and think what might be asked of us? Are we willing to leverage our wealth for the good of others. Are we willing to "sacrifice" so others can experience a better life? Maybe we spend less on vacations or robotic vacuum cleaners and spend more on those who don't even have sustainable income or suitable shelter. Maybe we give more of our time. Maybe we open up our home to foster children. Maybe we spend less on things we don't need, so we're freed up to see and meet the needs of those around us.
Remember, it's not about guilt, it is about responsibility. And it starts by opening our eyes to see just how rich we are.
How will we leverage our wealthiness for the good of others...today?
