Monday meditation: ‘Tell Me a Story,’ Part 1: Measuring my life
“Tell Me a Story.” A new series based on parables of Jesus, starting today.
Most of us want a comfortable retirement. And if it could include a few pluses—a second home, a couple of cruises, weeks each winter near a sunny beach—well, that would be a dream.
It’s a dream within reach, the ads tell us, each with the phone number of a financial planner or investment counselor who will show us how our money can grow to pay for such pleasure. And if at age 60- or 70-something, our experience turns out be something less than luxury, we look all the more longingly at those who seem to be enjoying it. News stories about the super rich get our attention. We secretly wish we were winners like those game show contestants taking home cash and cars and exotic vacations.
It seems we’re not alone. When we read today’s story told by Jesus, we recognize the main character.
We’ve seen him climbing a nearby corporate ladder.
We’ve heard him bragging in the driveway about the new boat he just bought.
We’ve watched him ignore his family or his kids to build his business.
We’ve spent money we should have saved to match something as splashy as his latest gadget or outfit or anniversary diamond.
And in a quiet corner of the night, we may realize we’re more like him than we want to admit.
Maybe this person who seemed to have it all discovers later in life it wasn’t enough. Maybe the years don’t treat him kindly. His advisors told him how to preserve his equity, but not his health. He learned how to grow investments, but not relationships. He had plans, big plans, but then a somber diagnosis in a fluorescent-lit examining room illuminated the futility of counting on possessions for fulfillment.
Seeking meaning
And as we cope with the chronic disability of the person in our care, we know all our money won’t cure their disease. We’ve faced a reality we never planned for, and today we seek meaning somewhere beyond what we can buy.
But buying is what we’ve learned to do. In our consumer-driven economy, it’s difficult to avoid materialism. Even people of great faith may spend more time thinking about things than about God. We can control things: choose them, use them, clean them, store them, repair them, replace them at a whim. But we caregivers have come up against something we can’t control, and it threatens to wreck us with frustration or fear or grief.
Examining a closet full of clothes no longer needed, filling the gas tank of a car that nowadays always stays close to home, turning the page on a calendar whose blocks are filled with little more than doctor’s appointments, we resonate with the truth of the story’s conclusion:
“A person is a fool to store up earthly wealth but not have a rich relationship with God.”
Finding a blessing
But in that truth, we can find a blessing, even after the turn our life has taken. It’s not too late to get closer to God. We’re not too old to discover the peace that comes only from depending on him. Beside the sickbed of our loved one, we can seek him. Alone in the next room after we’ve finally put our loved one to bed, we can cling to his promise: “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13).
Even if retirement isn’t as comfortable for us as we might have dreamed, it can be more fulfilling than we ever imagined. God offers all the riches we need.
Read: Luke 12:13-21
Pray: Father, we know there’s more to life than the experiences or pleasures or possessions money can pay for. Show us peace and wisdom and joy. Even in days that seem mundane or turn difficult, help us to know you.
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