H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
22 August 2004
BIGGER BARNS OR BIGGER LIVES?
Luke 12:13-21
“I’ve heard that you Americans actually build spare rooms in which to store your automobiles,”
said the Scottish gentleman with a twinkle in his eye.
I had to confess that, yes, in my neighborhood having a “spare room” for the car was pretty
common. In fact, a house like mine without a garage was considered somewhat deficient. I hastened
to add that many cars still sat out in the weather year-round because the garage was so filled with
stuff that there was no room for the car. My Scottish acquaintance found considerable humor in that.
I have long regarded the story of the rich man building bigger barns as the American parable, the
story of a fellow with so much abundance that he can’t find a place to store it all. This may not be
anyone’s favorite parable, but it is a story that speaks powerfully to us if we’re willing to listen.
In the parable Jesus told, there’s no reason to think the rich man was a bad man. There’s no hint
that he got his wealth unfairly. Maybe he worked hard for many years to get where he was. No,
Jesus doesn’t say he was wicked. Jesus just says he was a fool.
What made the rich man a fool?
First of all, he was a fool because he grew materially rich while becoming spiritually destitute.
Have you noticed how good your kids are at multi-tasking? When I’m sitting in front of a computer, it
takes all my concentration to write a sensible sentence. When Rachel’s sitting in front of a computer
screen, she’s checking her email, conversing with a friend by instant messaging, doing online research,
and playing minesweeper—all at the same time—and complaining because the computer is too slow.
But even granting the impressive ability of the young to do seven things at once on a phone line,
when it comes to the really important things in life, we can only spread our attention so thin. We can’t
make every single task our top priority. We can only focus on so many things, before something gets
overlooked. This is where the rich man in the story went awry. He was so focused on managing his
wealth that God slipped through the cracks. This is what I take it to mean when Jesus said the fellow
had stored up earthly riches but was not rich toward God.
Let’s give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Let’s assume he means well. Over the years he says to
himself, “A healthy spiritual life is really important. I should get serious about praying every day.” But
just then his cell phone rings with the latest business crisis.
Sometimes he says to his wife, “I wish I could do more at church. I’d love to be more involved.
As soon as the business settles down, things are going to change.”
The man is distracted. He can’t do everything, and so he takes care of business and lets the rest of
it slide. There’s a haunting line from a hymn by Harry Emerson Fosdick: “Rich in things and poor in
soul: Grant us wisdom, grant us courage lest we miss your kingdom's goal…” We can be so busy
with things that we overlook the kingdom. We can be so devoted to filling life up with more things
that we are forever distracted from the real purpose of life. The result is a gilded existence, beautiful in
the eyes of the world but hollow and empty underneath.
The rich man casts a longing eye toward God, and he resolves to change his priorities soon. He’s
sincere, but somehow it never happens. There’s always something more pressing, more urgent, more
important—at least, right now. And that’s another reason the rich man is a fool. He’s forgotten that
right now is all we have. The rich man counts on tomorrow. He’s banking on it. He says to himself,
“You have plenty of goods stored up for many years; relax, eat, drink, celebrate!” And it is that very
night when God says to the man, “You have no more tomorrows. It’s time to settle the accounts.
Someone else will enjoy the wealth you’ve worked so hard to amass.”
I have a relative in Louisville, my second cousin or something like that. He’s done quite well in his
chosen field, has a palatial home in Louisville and a second mansion in Florida. Some time ago his
wife and children were killed in an automobile crash. A couple of years after the accident, my parents
ran into Tom at a restaurant and they told me about their conversation. After a few minutes of small
talk, my mother asked Tom how he was getting along. He picked up a paper napkin and said, “I’ve
got all this money and I own all these things, but my life means no more to me than this napkin.” He
crumpled it up and dropped it on the table. “That’s my life. That’s what my life is worth to me.”
My cousin’s plight is a poignant reminder that we can’t count on tomorrow. Mary Jean Iron has
written, “Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless
you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me
hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury
my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the
world, your return.”
To live this day thanklessly, to be heedless of this moment’s blessings, to be so invested in
tomorrow that we ignore today’s grace, those are the signs of a foolish person. You see, this parable
isn’t really about money; it’s about what we value in life.
It’s also about what we trust in life, and that’s the other reason Jesus calls the rich man a fool,
because he places his faith in things rather than in God. Leo Tolstoy once wrote a story about a
successful farmer who was not satisfied with his lot. He wanted more of everything. One day he
received a novel offer. For 1000 rubles, he could buy all the land he could walk around in a day. The
only catch in the deal was that he had to be back at his starting point by sundown.
Early the next morning the farmer started out at a brisk pace. By midday he was tired, but he kept
going, covering more and more ground. Well into the afternoon he realized that his greed had taken
him far from the starting point. He quickened his pace and as the sun sank low in the sky, he began to
run, knowing that if he didn’t make it back by sundown he would lose the opportunity to become an
even bigger landholder.
As the sun began to sink below the horizon he came within sight of the finish line. Gasping for
breath, his heart pounding, he called upon every bit of strength left in his body and staggered across
the line just before the sun disappeared. But the stress and effort were too much for him. He
collapsed and died a few minutes later.
Tolstoy suggests that in the end all a person really owns is the six-foot by three-foot plot of earth
where we are buried. If we put our confidence in our prosperity, someday we will be sadly
disappointed. What we own cannot save us. More to the point, what we own can get in the way of
our salvation. When we trust our own resources more than we trust God, when we love our
possessions more than we love God, then our salvation is in peril.
People who capture animals for zoos say that one of the hardest animals to catch is the African
ring-tailed monkey. But the African Zulus have been catching the quick and nimble ring-tail for
generations. They choose a melon still growing on the vine and they cut a small whole in the rind. The
ring-tailed monkey loves the seeds of this melon, and before a monkey comes along, squeezes his
hand through the small hole and grabs a handful of seeds. But as long as the monkey is making a fist,
he can’t get his hand out of the melon. I’m told the monkey will pull and tug, screech and fight the
melon for hours, but he can't get free unless he gives up the seeds, which he refuses to do.
Meanwhile, the Zulus sneak up and throw a bag over the monkey.
We American’s own a lot of stuff. It fills our closets and garages and spare rooms, it fills those
rental storage bins, and even if we built bigger bars, it would probably fill those pretty soon. The thing
about owning so much stuff is that sometimes it’s hard to tell if we’ve got hold of all that stuff or if it’s
got hold of us. And like the monkey hanging on to those seeds, sometimes we don’t figure out the
true cost of our stuff until it’s too late.
Soli Deo Gloria!