Buying Friends They are called doi moi. That’s the Vietnamese slang for, “Dust of the earth.” They are street children. Either orphans or abandoned by their parents, these children are left to fend for themselves in the harsh environment of Vietnam’s cities. As young as a few years old and reaching into their teens, these children are forced to endure living conditions that were they to happen in America would cause the common folk to rise up in disgust and protest. They are beaten or abused. Some are kidnapped and forced to be slaves. Some of the girls are forced into prostitution, before they are even ten years old—not that it’s any better after ten years of age. That’s their life. Unless someone rescues them, that will be their life until they die—most likely at a young age, too. Or there’s Mark. He was just six years old. His parents couldn’t provide for him. So they sold him—yes, they sold their own son--for $20 to a fisherman on Lake Volta in Ghana. For three years, before he was rescued he was forced by a man whom he called, “Master,” to get up before dawn and head out with other young boys in a fishing boat. Every day that was this six year old’s life. He was just one among around 7000 young boys who serve as slaves for fishermen on Lake Volta. Many of these little ones can’t even swim, which means if they fall overboard from their canoes, most likely they will drown. Others who can swim dive into the lake and pull up the fishing nets. Sometimes, though, they get entangled in the net and drown, right there in the sight of a six year old. You know, I used to hear stories like these. While they moved me at first, I soon shook it off and went on with my comfortable American life. I seldom, if ever, gave those stories any more thought. After all, those kids live halfway around the world, in a different culture, with a different color and different ethnicity. So, not that I would ever admit it—after all, I knew it was not true—it was like they were less than I was, perhaps even less than fully human. Thus, they didn’t really deserve the dignity and attention that I and all of us Americans deserve. You see, that arrogant infection of white America had afflicted me. Anyone who was not white was not our equal. In fact, I could tell you story after story in our illustrious American history of how white Americans have oppressed and mistreated other cultures simply because they were not white. So, while I tried and tried to fight that infection, since I knew it was wrong and ungodly, I guess I never could rid myself of it completely. Honestly, too, I would be shocked if that disease has not affected and afflicted all of you to some degree. But things are changing for me. It’s more of a process than a radical transformation. Perhaps that’s because I haven’t witnessed any of what I said on a firsthand basis. They say that going on a mission trip, if just for a little bit, changes you and your perspective of life and appreciation for life. While I have never been on a mission trip, what I have recently read and heard has had an effect on me. That’s what this sermon is about. Today’s text and sermon can be considered the sequel of a sermon delivered a couple of months ago entitled, “Stuff.” In that sermon, which was based on the text where someone asked Jesus to tell his brother to divide the inheritance with him, the question was asked, “Why do we want stuff?” The conclusion we came up with based upon Christ’s comment is that we have stuff for us to enjoy, but not exclusively for that reason. We have stuff so as to share it with others, especially others like Mark in Ghana or the doi moi street children of Vietnam, among others. So, like I said, today’s sermon is a sequel to that one. Honestly, too, I have been very excited about preaching on this text because of this transformation that is happening to me. The biggest challenge for me now is to figure out how to condense all of this into the confines of one sermon. But I’ll try. I’ll do it this way: A couple of times while sitting around before we started our Thursday evening Bible class we fantasized about what we would do if we won the lottery. We thought, then, about how we would use that money. In our pious, godly, loving way, too, we thought about how we could use that money to bless other people. But, of course, that was all just fantasized talk, seeing how none of us play the lottery or expect to inherit millions. Recently, though, it “hit” me. Granted, it took longer than it should have. But sometimes I’m slow in getting the point. What “hit” me was this: Why do I have to have millions before I can help someone? And now I’m going to sound like I’m rambling and can’t stay focused on one point. So please try to stay with me as I chase squirrels. That thought about having millions to share on the needy was coupled with another thought I had. We have recently remembered again the victims of the terrorist attack on Sept. 11. Every time we remember them, we remember the heroes who risked their lives to save others. Those stories, along with other stories of gallant rescues in hurricanes and tornadoes, also made me think. Why can’t I ever save someone’s life? Why can’t I be a hero? Please understand, I don’t say that because I’m looking for some medal or some acclaim. It’s just that I wish I could somehow be in the position at some time to save someone’s life. But alas, that has never happened. Then, I have one more squirrel to chase before I tie all of this together. At our recent synodical convention, while one of the speakers got up to deliver his forty minute presentation, about one-third of the delegates got up and walked out for a break. I used to do that, too. But this time I realized how rude that was. So I thought I would sit there and give this guy a chance. I’m glad I did. For as he was speaking about the mercy ministries of our denomination he told story after story of how people’s lives were wonderfully affected by his and other’s ministries. As I listened to all of these heartwarming and heart-stirring stories something dawned on me: I don’t have any stories to tell. I’m not a hero. I haven’t donated millions to charity. I haven’t changed lives by means of some sacrifice. Then it occurred to me why that’s the case. The reason is because I’ve been infected with the white American virus. Now, this will sound like a harsh indictment, which may offend some of you. Perhaps, though, you, like me, need to be offended. Maybe that’s the only way to shake you free from this horrible infection. You see, though, I’m not proud to be an American Christian. In so many ways, I wish I were and with African and Asian and Latin American Christians. For they have a better, clearer, more faithful understanding of what it means to be a Christian. They understand that Christianity is not about me. It’s not about my needs, my wants, my dreams, my happiness, my fulfillment. It’s not about others appreciating me and respecting me and acknowledging me. And thus, it’s not about this pettiness in so many American Christians who get their feelings hurt because someone said something to them or didn’t say something to them or looked at them the wrong way or walked by them without saying, “Hi.” “Me” doesn’t even factor into the equation in Christianity elsewhere; at least “me” as being the center of my universe, doesn’t factor into the equation in Christianity elsewhere. “Me” simply is not important. No, you are important. That’s how Christianity is seen and practiced in other parts of the world; not in America. That’s why I’m not proud to be an American Christian. For in other parts of the world, a Christian family would give their last chicken to feed a guest; and they would politely serve that guest while they themselves went hungry. I don’t see that in us. I certainly don’t see that in me. But I’m hoping to change that now. Here’s one way I hope to do that. Here’s my soda cup. And here’s a bank. Many of you know that everyday, whether I need it or not (which means that I really don’t need it), I spend $.63 to get this cup refilled. I’ve decided, though, that if I saved just $.63 in this bank, instead of buying a cup of soda that I don’t need, in a short amount of time, I could acquire $10. So of what use is $10, you say? Well, with $10, I could be a hero and save a child’s life—a real child’s real life—by donating that $10 to the Lutheran Malaria Initiative. Now, I don’t expect to receive a medal for that or have some documentary written about me on that, like someone who risked his life to save someone else. That’s not the point at all. The point is that I don’t have to have millions before I can literally save someone’s life. And when I actually stop thinking about me and my insatiable craving for soda and actually sacrifice that petty desire within me, I will save even more money in this bank and subsequently save even more lives. For you see, as it is, I haven’t put $.63 in this bank everyday, simply because I’m still too “me” centered to sacrifice a cup of soda everyday. I’m ashamed of that, too. But by God’s grace, I hope that changes. In fact, I hope more than that changes in me. You see, after hearing those stories and realizing we’re talking about real people just like we are, real people created by the same God who created us, real people whom the Lord saved with His sacrifice, just like He saved us, I think I’m ready for a change in me. I hope you’re ready for a change in you. In order for that change to happen, though, we have to stop being “me” centered. Yes, in order for that change to happen, we have to be willing to sacrifice. You see, too, that’s what Jesus is talking about in this text. This text is one of those hard sayings of Jesus. Perhaps that’s one reason why it has taken me nearly 25 years in ministry to catch on to what Jesus is telling His people. Too often we get so caught up in the confusion of why Jesus is praising this unjust manager that we fail to look at the point Jesus is making. But when you listen closely to what Jesus is saying, it makes perfect and obvious sense. Forget the fact that the man in this parable is a crooked, dishonest man. That’s not the point of the parable. The point is that when his master fires him, this crooked, dishonest man is shrewd enough to figure out how he will “buy” friends. Now, when we read this account we, in our American business mentality, think he is short-shrifting his master by telling the master’s debtors not to pay their entire bill. What you need to know is that in that day, the manager made his living by adding additional amounts to the bill. That became his pay. That was the standard practice in that day. So when this dishonest man tells the debtors to cut out part of their bill, he’s telling them that he’s cutting out his commission. He’s showing them how sacrificial he is and trying to impress them by his sacrifice so that they will take him in. In simple terms, he’s “buying” friends by giving up his money. It’s that part of the parable that Jesus highlights. That’s why this is the sequel to the sermon called, “Stuff.” Again, in that sermon the question was asked, “Why do we want stuff?” The conclusion we came up with based on Christ’s comments was that we have stuff for us to enjoy and for us to use to bless others. This parable reinforces that point. We have stuf —so, so much stuff, too, in comparison to the majority of people—so that we can “buy” friends. You see, in a very practical way, Jesus is telling His people what to do with our stuff. And in keeping with the direction of this parable, He’s telling His people—that means that He’s telling us—that we are to be willing even to sacrifice our stuff for others, instead of being so “me” centered. Thus, in order to keep this simple and straightforward, here are some suggestion real, practical, doable, suggestions—we can do to show and share the love of Jesus with others. These are some ideas that we can do to “buy” friends in this world. I already mentioned to you about the simple and little suggestion of cutting out a cup of soda everyday and using that $.63 to build into $10, and then every time I accumulate $10, I can literally help save someone’s life by giving that $10 to the Lutheran Malaria Initiative. You know, too, what is a cup of soda that’s not healthy anyway, in comparison to a human being’s life? That’s hardly a sacrifice, and sadly, like I said, I still haven’t been able to make that sacrifice everyday. But I hoping with God’s help and grace to make that sacrifice more and more. What could you cut out of your life that you don’t really need anyway? Could you cut out a cup of coffee on occasion and use the money you would have spent on that cup to build until you can save a child’s life with a donation of $10 to the Lutheran Malaria Initiative? Again, when you put a cup of coffee next to a precious child, there’s really no comparison is there. Or how about this: What if you actually fasted for perhaps just one meal and not one meal that you don’t normally eat anyway? What if you picked one night, for example, and instead of having your evening meal, you took the $5 or $10 you would normally spend on that meal and put it in a bank. Or what if you actually understood what hunger really is, and thus, you made a more serious sacrifice by fasting for a whole day, and then took that money and put it in a bank. You know, if you did that every week for the rest of your life, you would set aside at least $20-$40 each month. Do you realize how over time you would be able to help so many, many people who are in desperate need of help? In fact, for our two congregations, I thought of this. If each household sacrificed at least $20 each month (for many of us, too, $20 is pocket change that we wouldn’t even notice over a month’s time), our congregation in Houston would be able to set aside around $10,000 above and beyond our normal giving to the Lord. Can you imagine how many lives we could save with $10,000? Our congregation in Salem would be able to set aside around $14,000. Again, that’s just a minimal amount of money. I mean, that’s hardly a sacrifice for just about all of us. No, a sacrifice would be if we took an additional $100 or more. Or how about this idea: The next time you have the itch to go out and buy a new outfit or a new pair of shoes, even though your current outfit or your current pair of shoes work just fine, or to buy a new gadget or game or some other luxury that you can do without, why don’t you take that mone —whether it’s $50 that you were going to spend anyway or $2000 that you were going to spend anyway—and instead of buying something for yourself, something you don’t really need, you can be a hero and save lives. In the name of Christ and with the love of the Lord, you don’t have to have millions before you make a difference in someone’s life. You must know, too, that such sacrifices do make a difference. I know that was one of the excuses I used to give as to why I didn’t send money to the mission field or to Lutheran World Relief or some other Christian charity. I didn’t do it because I wasn’t sure if the money actually got there. Well, I can assure you that every $10 you send to the Lutheran Malaria Initiative gets there—100% of it. And when you send money to Lutheran World Relief, 89% of it gets to where it’s sent. That’s actually a very good percentage compared to many other charities. Or here are some other ideas. Maybe you aren’t quite so inclined to be so generous and sacrificial with your giving. While that’s not necessarily fine, perhaps you will still feel inclined to help in this way. You can shop at our “mission mart”. For example, you can buy chocolate straight from the source. Granted, it will cost you more. But when you go to lwr.org/chocolate, you can support farmers in Ghana who grow the cocoa and make the chocolate. Thus, you’re helping them make a living for themselves and their families, and you even get delicious chocolate. Or you can shop through the catalog that Lutheran World Relief sends out twice a year and buy Christmas presents or other gifts from real people living in third world countries who depend upon these products to survive. Thus, you can actually purchase gifts that no one on the block will have handmade gifts from different cultures. Again, as you do that, even though it will cost more than what you might spend at Walmart, you will literally be supporting an impoverished Christian somewhere in the world. Or for the farmers among us or the farmer wannabes, you can buy worms for $16 or a duck for $45 or a goat for $100 or a dairy cow for $375 that will be delivered to someone in a third world country who will depend upon that animal for his livelihood. You see, there are so many ways we can be heroes and save someone’s life. There are so many ways we can share the love of Christ without even breaking a sweat. There are so many ways we can help people without even sacrificing very much. I mean, you don’t have to go to Africa or Asia or Latin America. It would be great if you want to do that. But you don’t have to, and you can still help save lives. The people are already in place who will take your gifts and deliver them to people in need. And if you want to help those doi moi street children in Vietnam or those 7000 young boys serving as slaves in the fishing industry in Ghana, you can go to touchalifekids.org and find out how you can help. Finally, then, if you don’t think this means something, you’re wrong. Sure, you may not ever hear anyone say “Thank you,” for your gift. I hope you don’t give it just so you can get a pat on the back or some acclaim. But you can wait until the final day this earth exists in this current condition. For on that day, you’ll hear Jesus say, “I was hungry and you gave Me something to eat. I was thirsty and you gave Me something to drink.” You see, every little gift, every small sacrifice, every act of mercy means something. Perhaps we don’t realize how precious every little gift is because we simply have so much. So I’ll end this sermon with this comment. When a woman in some third world country received one of the thousands upon thousands of quilts that our Lutheran ladies make every year, quilts that they and we may not think much about, this woman said, “This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me. When I come to die, bury me in this.” Now, you know, to me, that’s a story to tell. And you know, we can come up with many, many more like this one. By God’s grace, I hope we do. Amen.
Posted on: Sun, 22 Sep 2013 19:14:31 +0000
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