The Arms You Forgot

A man in the crowd wanted a judge. His father had died, there was an estate, and a brother was holding more than his share. So he pushed to the front and tried to draft Jesus into the fight.

"And one of the company said unto him, Master, speak to my brother, that he divide the inheritance with me. And he said unto him, Man, who made me a judge or a divider over you?" — Luke 12:13-14 (KJV)

He came about money. Jesus answered about the soul. He will not referee the estate — he goes underneath it, to the thing that turned two brothers into enemies.

"And he said unto them, Take heed, and beware of covetousness: for a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth." — Luke 12:15 (KJV)

Then he tells a story. Give the man his due before a word is said against him. He is no thief. He is a farmer, and a good one, and his land did well. Nothing here calls his farming a sin.

"And he spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully: And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits? And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." — Luke 12:16-19 (KJV)

Count them. Six times he says I. Five times he says my. Eleven first-person claims in three sentences, and every one of them points back at the same man. No brother. No neighbor. No poor man at the gate. No God. He has built a world with one occupant, and he is throwing that occupant a party.

And notice the one thing he did not do. He did not grow the ground. The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully. The ground brought forth. Not the man. He did not make the rain or raise the sun over his field. He calls it my fruits — standing in a gift, calling it a wage.

Which is the exact thing God grieves in Hosea. Hear how the Lord remembers his own child.

"When Israel was a child, then I loved him, and called my son out of Egypt. ... I taught Ephraim also to go, taking them by their arms; but they knew not that I healed them. I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love ... and I laid meat unto them." — Hosea 11:1,3-4 (KJV)

Taking them by their arms. That is a parent teaching a toddler to walk — both hands under a body that cannot yet hold itself. And then the line that should stop your breath: but they knew not that I healed them. The child grew up and forgot the arms.

Now put grown Ephraim in the rich man's field. Here is a man God taught to walk, on ground God made grow, under a sun God raised — and he stands in the middle of the gift and calls all of it mine. It is the oldest problem there is.

Set the two speeches side by side. The rich man's I always curves inward — I will pull down my barns; there will I bestow; I will say to my soul. God's I always pours outward — I loved him, I drew them, I healed them, I laid meat unto them. Same grammar. Opposite direction. One I gathers. The other gives. Which one sounds like a father, and which one sounds like a fool?

"But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?" — Luke 12:20 (KJV)

And hear the word required. A thing required is a thing called back — a loan, not a possession. The soul he had been reassuring for many years was never his to keep for one.

Thou fool. I have heard those words preached like a sneer, as if God enjoyed the takedown. Do not read it that way. Go back to Hosea, a few verses past the arms, and hear what is in God's chest.

"How shall I give thee up, Ephraim? how shall I deliver thee, Israel? how shall I make thee as Admah? how shall I set thee as Zeboim? mine heart is turned within me, my repentings are kindled together." — Hosea 11:8 (KJV)

Mine heart is turned within me. That is a father who cannot get the child out of his chest. So hear thou fool in that voice — the one whose arms taught you to walk, watching you build a monument to a soul he loved. Not contempt. Grief with a short name.

Paul tells you what the barn really was.

"Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth." — Colossians 3:2 (KJV)

"Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth; ... and covetousness, which is idolatry:" — Colossians 3:5 (KJV)

Covetousness, which is idolatry. Paul does not say greed is like idolatry, or that it leads there. He says it is idolatry. The rich man was not merely stingy — he was worshiping. The bigger barn was an altar, and take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry was the liturgy: a service to a god named Enough. Enough never answers. It is worship that never gets a reply. But something does answer.

"For he satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness." — Psalm 107:9 (KJV)

The longing is not your problem — God put it there. The fool aimed a God-sized hunger at a barn. The soul fills on one thing, and the psalm names it: him.

Take the parable out of the field and set it in your house. You have given this speech, not out loud, in your head, at two in the morning: once I hit the number, then I will rest. You have a barn under construction right now. An account. The someday pile where you keep the life you will start living once you have enough. And you soothe your own soul exactly the way he did.

This is not a condemnation. It is a diagnosis. His sin was not that he saved. Scripture is not against barns. His sin was that he built his whole soul on a floor God could pull out in a single night, and never once looked up from the blueprint to ask whose arms had held him up. The tell is the direction your I points — inward to gather, or outward to give.

There is another place to lay up what matters, and Paul gave you the address.

"For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory." — Colossians 3:3-4 (KJV)

Your life is hid with Christ in God. Two storehouses, and you have to pick one. The first is the barn — bigger, fuller, and this night thy soul shall be required of thee. A vault the grave empties before morning: then whose shall those things be? Not his. The barns outlive the man. Somebody else eats the corn. Somebody inherits it — which is exactly the fight the man in the crowd started with. The whole sermon closes its own circle. You are always somebody's inheritance in the end. You just do not get to be your own.

The other storehouse is a person. Your real life is hidden, already, with Christ in God — where the grave cannot reach and no market can crash. He was laying up treasure for himself. Your treasure is laid up in him.

"So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God." — Luke 12:21 (KJV)

Rich toward God. That is the aim: a direction, not an amount. You get there the way Hosea's God did — by spending your I outward. By opening the hand that keeps closing. The arms that taught you to walk are still under you. They were under you this morning when your feet hit the floor. Turn around — before the harvest, before the barn, before the night — and see whose arms they are. Then live like a man who knows he was carried.

Amen.