401KOs

I read the sermon on the mount, and I can't help but wonder if a Christian, in general, should have a 401K or other retirment fund.

Christ says things like, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on Earth, where moth and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal. Store up for yourselves treasures in Heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves do not break in and steal."

He also says, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?"

So, how is a retirement fund not storing up treasures on earth because of our worry about our life and body? Well, it is just good stewardship of the funds God has given, and we don't want to be a burden on our children or society.

I think that good stewardship of the funds God has given us would be giving all our excess (and maybe even sacrificing some things) to erradicate world hunger. Good stewardship would be putting our holy boots in AIDS' ass. Good stewardship isn't making sure we can afford an RV and gas when the time comes for us to hang up the overalls or the suit.

Now, the point about being a burden to children is somewhat more valid than the "good stewardship" argument. In the world we live in, retirment funds may be a necessary evil (though not entirely nor to the degree we use them). However, let me take a moment and paint a picture for you.

Imagine a church when every moment from first to final breath was spent in commitment to Christian community. Imagine if we lived as people of equal means no matter our salaries and made sure that no one in our midst was in need (and, in this global society, this may look like trying to ensure that no one in our world is in need). Imagine how freeing this would be. Every person would be about kingdom business his whole life, and would work to support the family as long as he was able. When retirement came (from a career, mind you, not from lay ministry), it would be the natural cycle of things that the community, particularly his loved ones, would provide for him. It would not be a burden; it would be a joy.

What a privilege to help provide necessary things that don't really matter to a person who has provided and continues to provide so many things that really do matter. And there would be no guilt on the part of the elderly, for when they were still working, they too had helped provide to the generation before them.

One final question that will be left unexplored at present, for I must go to bed: Are retirement funds and massive savings accounts an outgrowth of western individualism?

Jealous of the Moon

There is a song that has been stuck in my head all week. I've tried singing other things, but that is just a temporary fix. Some songs speak to the heart. They speak from the heart. They express the inner longings of the soul in ways that I cannot explain. This is the chorus of "Jealous of the Moon" by Nickel Creek:

Staring down the stars,
Jealous of the moon,
You wish you could fly.
But you're staying where you are,
There's nothing you can do,
If you're too scared to try.

There are times when I think I could be great, and at times I see this same greatness in my friends. My generation is full of legacy that is still potential but is longing to be set free, and, although I am generally optimistic, I do, at times, become fearful that we will fall far short of all we could achieve.

I suppose that every generation dreams big when they are this age, but why then do we fail to achieve? If generation after generation has dreamt of a radically different way of doing things, then why is our culture so static. The surface may change, but a millimeter underneath is the same mildew that makes the tapestry stink.

There are two voices that affect our mindset. Our soul speaks in flashing moments of truth when the haze is drawn away, the problems become real, and the solutions become reachable. Opposing this first voice is our mind, like the radio on in the background tuned to the mix station. It is saying, "Sure. Write a new song, and we'll throw it in with the same old mix." It tells us that our originality and daring are only recycling and youth, and it is a tempting lie. If this lie were the truth, as it so often becomes, then we could take a rest. We could settle into comfortable and forget the things we have seen and heard before we went blind and deaf.

The voice of our soul is like a sprint. It gets our blood pumping, our heart racing, and our endorphins kicking. Still we stop before we go around the curve.

The voice of our mind is like a marathon runner. Like the energizer bunny, it keeps going. It looks back at the sprinter stopping to catch his breath and laughs with the knowledge that slow and steady wins the race, or at least it has with few exceptions for the past 10,000 years.

Here then is what we must do: We must discipline our sprinting soul. Slow down without losing the edge and take steps instead of leaps. We must become distance runners for change. If ever we do this, our souls will match stride with our minds, and we will find that the power of the two working in tandem is enough to break the mold. It is enough to churn the pond that has long been stagnant.

If we will discipline the part of us that longs to do great things, the part of us that longs to make things the way we see them on a clear blue day, then we will stop getting winded before we go anywhere.