Sermons for the Month
What's Worth Saving?
DATE: January 2, 2000
SERVICE: Christmas II
TEXT: Jeremiah 31:7-14a“To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN We're a nation of junk keepers, hoping that the antique train set in the attic or that "hand-me-down" collection of figurines will be our ticket to paradise. But as we begin a new century, it's time to clean house and make some difficult decisions about what to pitch and what to preserve. Our freshly minted millennium is sparkling in the sun of a new day, but all across the country people are down in their basements saving, storing, salvaging and squirreling away the remnants of the past. In every corner of our country the pack rats are packing away, sticking stuff into cramped closets and greasy garages and those strange little mausoleums to materialism have been popping up all over the place in recent years -- you know, those rental storage units that go by the names "Self-Storage" or "U-Store" or "Storall" or "Storage USA." Maybe you've secured one yourself. Or two ... to handle the overflow from number one. Or maybe you have already started making a pile for next November's rummage sale. Let's face it: We're savers. With white knuckles we grip our possessions, pulsing with a passion to preserve the goodies of days gone by. And now the glitter of gold has been added to our possession obsession by TV shows like the Antiques Roadshow, a top-rated weekly program on public television that is determined to deliver a "feast of entertainment" as it goes on its quest to discover America's hidden treasures. Have you caught an episode? Hosted by antiques expert Chris Jussel. Antiques Roadshow claims to be "part adventure, part history lesson, part treasure hunt." Specialists from the leading auction houses, together with independent appraisers and dealers, traverse the country and offer free appraisals of antiques and collectibles. "It's all great television," declares executive producer Aida Moreno. On the one hand, there's the look of surprise when someone finds out an old painting is worth a quarter of a million dollars; on the other, there's the disappointed but brave face when a "priceless" vase is revealed to be a fake(www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/ roadshow/about.html, June 15, 1999). Of course, this raises the $132,000 question: Why should we toss out ANYTHING if it could end up being one of America's hidden treasures? "Really, what's a little clutter," asks Daniel Eisenberg in TIME magazine, "when that rickety sideboard or dusty cup-and-saucer set might be your ticket to paradise?" In a nation full of junk keepers, the show is sending its 10 million viewers rummaging through their attics in the belief that you could find "a sleeper." By now, tales from this televised traveling carnival of collectibles are legendary. "There's Claire Wiegand-Beckmann, the retired New Jersey schoolteacher whose beloved wooden table, bought for $25 in 1965, turned out to be a John Seymour masterpiece that eventually fetched close to $500,000 at a Sotheby's auction." Or the Houston man who learned that although his oil painting of the Titanic was worthless, the menu pasted on the back was an original from a last meal on the ship, worth close to $100,000. The menu had been owned by the son of a surviving crew member, and it revealed that the doomed passengers dined on grilled mutton chops (Daniel Eisenberg, "TV's Treasure Hunt," TIME.COM, March 15, 1999). So whaddya think? If Jesus were preaching parables today, would he say, "The kingdom of heaven is like a menu on the back of an oil painting of the Titanic"? (see Matthew 13:44). Or, "The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine tables; on finding a John Seymour masterpiece worth a cool half million, he went and sold all that he had and bought it"? (as in Matthew 13:45). But it's a safer bet that Jesus would proclaim, "Indeed, it is easier for a Ford Expedition SUV to fit into a motorcycle parking place than for someone with serious self-storage problems to enter the kingdom of heaven" (check out Luke 18:25). He pushes us to lighten our earthly loads, not heap high the collectibles ... to fill our hearts with faith, hope and love, not stuff our storage units with vintage cars, frying pans, high chairs and lava lamps. In short, Jesus doesn't wonder, "What's your stuff worth?" He asks, "What's worth saving?" As residents for two days now of 21C, we are already wondering what is worth saving from the 20th century, and what ought to be scrapped right now -- and the sooner the better. Some of the many suggestions of things we should haul into the new millennium are: * Alcoholics Anonymous, a worldwide fellowship that has saved innumerable lives. * Blood banks, which allow four million U.S. patients a year to be transfused with other people's blood. * The Chrysler Building, the unsurpassed symbol of New York sass, whose gleaming spire radiates American confidence and optimism. * Ice cream cones, a joyous summertime treat, and the first and greatest example of edible packaging. * Neon lights, which add an alluring dimension to evening street scenes. * Psychotherapy, the "talking cure" that has improved our lives by making the once-unspeakable speakable and exposing hidden pain to healing. * Zippers, which make coats warmer, pockets more secure and toddlers a whole lot easier to dress in the morning (Jay Walljasper and Jon Spayde, "The 20th Century: What's Worth Saving?" Utne Reader, May-June 1999, 42-49). Now these are all worthy 20th-century innovations -- especially ice cream cones and zippers -- but they don't pierce the heart of the challenge before us today. On this first Sunday of the new century, our job is to throw open the windows, beat the rugs, and engage in some serious spiritual housecleaning ... to force ourselves to answer the very same question raised a moment ago, "What's worth saving?" What should we keep and what should we get rid of as we turn the corner into Y2K? The prophet Jeremiah pushes possibilities for pious pack rats like ourselves as he tells the story of God's plan for the people of Israel. The Lord will bring his people home after years of exile in Babylon, he promises -- "I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth" (Jeremiah 31:8). The prophet predicts that the things that truly matter are the goodness of the Lord, the joy and hope of God's people, and the peaceful home that God provides. Now you know that such artifacts will never appear on Antiques Roadshow, or on any shopping list of secular stuff to squirrel away, but that doesn't matter. Jeremiah is convinced that these are the things that are REALLY worth saving, in any place and time. They are the true hidden treasures of the people of God. The goodness of the Lord is what makes the whole homecoming happen. God ransoms his faithless, sinful people and redeems them, says Jeremiah; he gathers them from distant lands and leads them to a place where he will keep them as a shepherd keeps a flock. But why? The question before us is not the ever-popular query: Why do bad things happen to good people? Surely we've heard that one enough -- it's so "20th century." Instead, the real question here is: Why do good things happen to bad people? The answer, it seems, is because God is good. God is full of grace and goodness, so he desires the deliverance of his children, then and now. God is like a master antiques appraiser who picks us up when we are dusty and rusty and broken and worn, looking to all the world like a piece of junk suitable only for the dumpster, and he says, "You are a treasure. You are worth saving." And so he does. Sensing this gift of salvation, we can begin to burst with hope and joy, like the lucky junk keeper who discovers that her treasure is a valuable "sleeper." Along with the Israelites in exile, we are suddenly filled with hope that God will turn our "mourning into joy," and give us "gladness for sorrow" (31:13). Along with our forebears in the faith, we can sing aloud with spirit and be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, we can rejoice and be merry and be satisfied with the generosity of our God. Why do we need Beanie Babies when we have the benefits of everlasting life, and what's the worth of Star Wars collectibles against the salvation of our Creator? If your hope is in worldly success, toss it out. Only the gifts of God can satisfy our deepest longings. If your joy is in riches, give this shallow happiness the heave-ho. Only the blessings of the Benevolent One can fill us with a satisfaction that is sweet and steady, life-giving and everlasting. If your trust is in anything but God and his goodness, you'll discover that your priceless vase is really a fake, your canvas by Cezanne is a rather crummy copy, and the house of your dreams is doomed by an awful appraisal. God pulls us back to where we belong, and provides us a peaceful home in this world and the next. He shows us the finest of "family values" when he ties together the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, skateboarders and corporate board members, techies and toddlers, soccer moms and single dads. God creates a community out of what was once a ragged remnant, and plants us in a place where life can become like "a watered garden" (31:12), a place where our deepest desires are met and we are given the gifts we need for an existence that is abundant. There may not be a long-lost Picasso waiting for us in God's house, but we can be sure to find a sense of peace that is priceless. So what's worth saving? According to our ancient and almighty Lord, WE are worth saving. We are the hidden treasure; we are the garage sale bargain God found knowing our true value. And to show us how serious he is about salvation, God gives us his goodness, fills us with joy and hope, and plants us in a home where we can grow closer to him and to each other. There is value to be found in the family values of God's vast family -- the value of embracing one another regardless of age or infirmity, color or class, skill or maturity, and seeing each other as the true hidden treasures of this world. You want to see priceless? Look at one another. Go ahead: Turn left. Turn right. There's your masterpiece. The things that really matter as we turn the corner into 21C are all spiritual, not material. They'll be found not in attics or basements, Storalls or storage bins, but in God and in each other. Hold them tight: They're keepers. AMEN