“Treasure in Heaven” Colchester Federated Church, August 10, 2025, Ninth Sunday after Pentecost (Luke 12:32-40)
Today Jesus is (once again) warning his followers about focusing on what we possess, focusing our time and attention on earthly treasures. Because “where your treasure is, there your heart will be too.”[1] Remember how I said last Sunday that Jesus talked about economics and taking care of the poor and warned against greed quite often? Well, Jesus is at it again today!
Though Jesus begins this go-round with a tender reassurance: “Don’t be afraid, little flock, because your Father delights in giving you the kingdom.”[2] Aw! Isn’t that so nice to hear? Prophets sometimes compared God’s people to a flock of sheep. And we certainly know that Jesus was sometimes referred to as the Good Shepherd. Though lest we rest on our laurels, Jesus then launches into instructions. Jesus says: “Sell your possessions and give to those in need. Make for yourselves wallets that don’t wear out—a treasure in heaven that never runs out. No thief comes near there, and no moth destroys. Where you treasure is, there your heart will be too.”[3]
Jesus is warning his followers about greed, warning his followers about worry, warning his followers about being prepared for what God has in store for us. Jesus instructs us to be like people who stay up waiting for their master to come home from a wedding. Those servants immediately open the door when the master arrives. Jesus says that the master will become the servant and will dress himself to serve, seat the servants at the table, and wait on them. Normally the servants would serve the master, of course. This represents a role reversal. The first shall be last and the last shall be first, after all. Jesus tells his followers that we are supposed to be ready for the Human One to come at a time when we may or may not expect it.
Now some Christians interpret this passage as an admonition to be alert to a literal Second Coming of Christ. What may be more helpful is thinking about this as an invitation to be open to how God is at work in our lives and in the world right here and now. Because when it comes to sensing the presence of the divine, we are not always going to hear a voice from on high instructing us as to the next faithful step we can take on our life’s journey. Though if our hearts are open, we can hear the still small voice of God in our hearts. We can see those God winks. We can recognize Thin Places when we sometimes stumble upon them. We can hear the echoes of God’s callings. We can observe the divine spark in one another.
Once again, we can hear this story from the Gospel according to Luke, take it to heart, and ask ourselves what’s the point? What are we supposed to be doing with our lives anyway? We may feel this need to be successful, which too often in our society looks like accumulating more stuff. We seem to think that being wealthy automatically makes someone successful. Though Jesus is gently offering an alternative way. Jesus reminds us that our lives are not determined by our possessions, even when someone is very wealthy. We remember in last week’s Gospel that the rich man was called a fool because his identity was wrapped up in the things that he owned. The rich fool placed all his trust and faith in those temporary possessions as opposed to the lasting grace of God. This week’s Gospel text continues on with this theme as Jesus reminds us that where our treasure is, there our hearts will be also.
Father Richard Rohr wrote about wisdom being based on humility in one of the daily devotionals from the Center for Action and Contemplation recently. Richard Rohr argued that wisdom should be grounded in reality. He reflected, “It is very clear that Jesus was able to heal, touch, teach, and transform people, and there were no prerequisites. They didn’t need to have any formal education. His wisdom was not based on any scholastic philosophy or theology, in spite of Catholic fascination with medieval scholasticism. Jesus, as a teacher, largely talked about what was real and what was unreal, what was temporary and what would last—and therefore how we should live inside of reality. It required humility and honesty much more than education. In a thousand ways, he was saying that God comes to us disguised as our life.”[4]
God comes to us disguised as our life.
Thinking about what we treasure and how God is present in our lives, I am reminded of a traditional story told about finding the holy in what (or who) is right in front of us. The story (originally adapted by Margaret Silf) goes that there was once a village that had fallen on hard times. At one time, the villagers had been happy. The community had been famous all around for their friendliness and hospitality shown to loved ones and strangers alike. It was a great place to live and a great place to visit. Though something had gone wrong somewhere along the way. People began to bicker with one another. Fights began breaking out for no apparent reason and rivalries came to the surface where once friendship and trust had been commonplace in town.
The chief of the village became so sad about all of this. The chief knew that the people of the village could not be truly happy under these circumstances. But he was at a loss as to how to make things better for everyone. Nothing he did or said restored the peace and harmony that had once existed in the village. The truth is that strangers no longer even wanted to visit. The people who lived there stopped taking pride in their village and it was falling into disrepair and ruin.
Though one day a stranger came to town. And this stranger approached as if he was on a mission. He approached as if he knew already what he would find there. The village chief met the stranger, and they recognized sad expressions in one another’s eyes. The two began to talk with one another about things that actually matter in our lives. The chief confided in the stranger about his feelings of despair and his fears that soon the village would be lost to all this hostility and hopelessness. The stranger listened with compassion and told the chief that he might know of a way for this lost village to be redeemed. Maybe he could help restore the village to be a real community again. The village chief begged the stranger to tell him the secret. The stranger said that the secret was very simple—one of the villagers is actually the Messiah.
The village chief almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But the stranger seemed like he knew what he was saying, and had an authoritative way about him. Eventually the stranger left and the chief couldn’t help but tell his best friend what the stranger had said. Well, we know how these things go in small towns. Pretty soon the rumor spread like wildfire throughout the village. “Can you believe that one of us is the Messiah?” Deep down the villagers wanted their village to be loving and peaceful. And the thought that the Messiah might be living among them made them see things differently. People wondered to one another who it might be—the baker or the farmer or the teacher or the elderly lady who lived on the edge of town?
After the stranger’s visit, nothing was ever the same. Because people began to treat one another not just with respect, but with reverence. People lived as if they had a common purpose. People lived as if they were seeking something precious together, not quite knowing whether the treasure was actually in front of them. Everyone was treated as if they were the Messiah. And before long, visitors began to return to the village just to be part of such a happy and holy place. Though the stranger? He never came back. Because he didn’t need to.[5]
Remember that “where your treasure is, there your heart will be too.”[6]
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[1] Luke 12:34, CEB.
[2] Luke 12:32.
[3] Luke 12:33-34.
[4] Richard Rohr, “Grounded in Reality,” Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditations from the Center for Action and Contemplation, August 5, 2025.
[5] “The Stranger’s Gift,” in One Hundred Wisdom Stories from around the World, compiled by Margaret Silf, pgs. 130-131.
[6] Luke 12:34, CEB.
Lauren Ostrout ~ on being made well 