“A man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” – Luke 12:15 

Many years ago several of us were sitting around fantasizing about winning the lottery, when one of our colleagues remarked that it was a good thing that he had not won the lottery and become rich, because “if I was rich,” he mused, “I would become a really sorry human being.”  A roar of laughter filled the room when he said that because we all knew, just as he knew about himself, that he was already a scoundrel anyway, and sudden wealth was not going to change that, only turn him into a worse scoundrel.

In a profound parable Jesus tells about a man whose farmland produced an enormous crop one year, big enough that it was like winning the lottery.  All that was required of him at that point was to build bigger barns to store away his harvest, then sit back and enjoy his good fortune the rest of his life – eat, drink, and be merry; that is, until he was reminded just how brief this frivolous lifestyle, of being a sorry human being, was going to last.  Whether that meant he was literally going to die, or simply become so disgusted with himself that whatever happiness he thought he would gain from his newly found wealth would quickly lead to misery instead.

“We are not our best perched at the summit,” someone once said.  “We are climbers, at our best when the way is steep.”  My former colleague never won the lottery.  Neither did he ever cease as far as I know from being a scoundrel.  But there is one thing I always admired about him, that despite his many character flaws, he realized that he would never find satisfaction by reaching the summit, only by staying engaged in the climb.   By his own admission, had he won the lottery he would likely have become an even worse scoundrel than he already was.  Deep down I don’t think he ever had a serious desire to win the lottery anyway.  He was a climber, after all, who was much happier working and staying in the game, which he did most of the remainder of his life.

Jesus’ parable reminds us that the good life has nothing to do with being wealthy, which of course is the exact opposite from the message we hear from a society in which advertisers spend billions of dollars to try to entice us to believe that if we have more and buy more we will be happier and more fulfilled.  Don’t fall for it, was Jesus’ message, for “a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”

“Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.”  – Deuteronomy 30:19 

Porter, the large, lovable family dog belonging to our son and daughter-in-law, once was left alone in the house while the family went out shopping, so he decided to take advantage of the situation by doing a little grocery shopping of his own.  After somehow managing to nose open the pantry door he spied a brand new bag of flour which he promptly snatched off the shelf, dragging it into the family room where he commenced to tear it open and scatter white flour all over the furniture and carpet.

You can just imagine the scolding Porter received from Mom and Dad when they returned home and discovered his mischief.  “Bad dog!  Bad dog!” they yelled over and over as they endeavored to clean it up, until finally our granddaughter Olive, who was probably about four at the time, had heard enough and spoke up in his defense.  “But Mommy,” she said, “Porter is not really a bad puppy-dog, he just makes bad choices.”

Ah, my granddaughter the great philosopher!  Haven’t we all at one time or another, upon gaining some new freedom, made a big mess, a big boo-boo, not because we are bad people, we just made bad choices?  I certainly have.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that most of the bad things that have happened to me in my life have been the result of my own bad choices.  Likewise, I can attribute most of the good things to either good choices I have made on my own or others have made on my behalf.  As I reflect on my life today in weighing the bad choices versus the good, I’m thankful to report that miraculously the scales have tipped in favor of the good.

After leading the Israelites on their long journey out of Egyptian bondage, Moses cautioned the Israelites about the choices they make in their newly gained freedom.  “I set before you today life and prosperity,” he warned them, either that or “death and destruction.”  It was their choice.

“This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you,” Moses went on, “that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses.  Now choose life, so that you and your children may live.”  Either we choose to raid the pantry and leave a big mess, like Porter, or we choose what is noble and good, making the world a better place for all.

“A generous man will prosper; he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.” 

– Proverbs 11:25 

Following the great London fire in 1666, the famed architect Christopher Wren was commissioned to rebuild the historic St. Paul’s Cathedral that had been destroyed by the fire.  One day Wren was walking around and noticed a couple of bricklayers high upon a scaffold.  “What are you doing up there?” he yelled. The first responded that he was laying bricks so he could feed his family.  But the other exclaimed, “I am a cathedral builder, and I am rebuilding this great cathedral to The Almighty.”

It occurred to me in revisiting this real-life parable that if this project was so important it could only be entrusted to one of the world’s greatest architects, it stands to reason that the work itself could only be entrusted to artisans and craftsmen who were tops in their field as well.  In other words, those two bricklayers were no common laborers, they were the best money could buy, men who graduated at the head of their class from the bricklayer academy.  If both were excellent at what they did, had the same skill level and produced the same high-quality results, and even earned the same pay, how is it one seemed to have a different purpose in his work than the other?  And did it even matter?

Having worked in a sales organization for many years, much like the famous architect, I often observed the same disparity among salespeople who had comparable education, knowledge, and ability.  Some worked only for the commissions they earned.  Others, though, worked to serve their clients. Why did one have a different purpose in work than the other, I often wondered?  And did it even matter?

The Proverb assures us that “A generous man will prosper,” and those who work to serve others are by nature generous people.  But let’s be honest.  We all know plenty of thoughtless, greedy, self-centered people who are prosperous.  Except the Proverb does not end there.  It goes on to explain that “he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.”  So, I can’t help but believe the cathedral-builder-bricklayer, even though he earned the same paycheck, went home at night more fulfilled than the other guy.  Nor do I believe God created any of us to just be a bricklayer, or a salesperson, or an architect; rather each of us is called to a higher purpose in whatever our endeavors.

“All of it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.” – Ecclesiastes 2:17 

Delton Bennett was my role model for the kind of professional I longed to become.  For years we worked as colleagues, except he belonged to an older generation and had years of experience under his belt which I did not.  Working along side him gave me access to his wisdom which I tried to absorb like a sponge.  Not only was he a man of deep experience and knowledge, with impeccable integrity, and a gentleman in every way, he was legendary among his fellow municipal bond professionals.  That’s what I wanted to be, a legend like him.  After all, shouldn’t we all strive to become the best we can be?

Delton eventually left the profession to enjoy his retirement years, until age and ill health finally took their toll.  At the reception following his funeral service I recall meeting three gentlemen who happened to be his golf buddies.  When they inquired about my association with Delton I explained that we had been work colleagues, and that he was one of the true legends of our profession.  The expression on all three of their faces revealed both surprise and curiosity, until one of them finally spoke up, “Funny, we never knew what Delton did professionally.  He never mentioned it.”

Just recently another old friend passed away, Jerry Pate Long, a contemporary with whom I had grown up in the same hometown.  His obituary spoke glowingly about him, his deep love for his family – children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren – his long love affair with Susie, the love of his life since high school, his passion for our hometown and high school football team, his outgoing personality, many friendships, and love for telling stories.  What was glaringly absent in the obituary, though, was there was no mention of what he did for a living.  But I happened to know he did make a living, a quite good one I think, because he always seemed to have enough and was a good provider.

Earning a living is of course essential for providing for ourselves and our families, and when our livelihoods contribute to the greater good of the larger community, how noble is that.  So why did Delton and Jerry Pate choose that their jobs and professions not be their legacies?  Perhaps it is because in the end, “All of it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.”  Delton is still my role model, except not for the same reason I once thought.  Instead, I hope when the time comes my own obituary will read just like Jerry Pate’s.

“When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”

• Proverbs 11:2 

Sometimes I think back on those early years struggling to support a wife, two kids and a mortgage on not much income.  While we did usually manage to have one decent family car, about all I could afford to drive back then was an old junker.  Most memorable was an older model Volkswagen Square-Back, sort of like a Beetle with the engine in the back, except it was a station wagon.  I had purchased it from a work colleague for a mere five hundred dollars, but even at that I still had to borrow money and make payments to the bank.  The biggest problem with the car was that it had no first gear which required learning a delicate technique of manipulating the clutch in order to start off in second, a particular challenge when going uphill.  Yes, those were lean times.

Although it did break down occasionally, for the most part that old VW actually served me pretty well as far as getting to and from work every day.  The problem was not the functionality, rather it was the embarrassment of not appearing to be very prosperous – which, of course, I wasn’t.  But I wanted to look prosperous, you see, like a young executive on the move – which, in retrospect, I was except for the rather meager salary I was making.

Humbling as it was, driving those old clunkers sort of kept things in perspective for me.  I didn’t like it much at the time, but looking back I realize how important humility was in my development.  How desperately I longed for reasons to be cocky like some of my peers at the time, some of whom actually drove fancy new cars!  Humility, though, taught me many lessons such as empathy and patience toward others, things I may not have learned had I not been relegated to driving those old jalopies.

Fortunately, my living standards are a considerably higher now than they were then – including the cars in my garage – yet in some ways things haven’t changed all that much; for there always seems to be something humbling that occurs whenever I start to feel a little overly proud.  I still don’t like it very much, but then I realize that humility continues to play an important role in my ongoing development.  As the Proverb reminds us, “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”