469: Gold Corrodes | Tim Henderson

Good morning everybody, hope you're doing well. If you could be outside on this glorious day, I hope you got one of these on the way in. These are floating around out there. If not, we've got them on a table out there that's got a stack of them. This is our introduction to you of this incoming class of Blue Ridge Fellows.

Many of you know that every year we invite a bunch of people to move to our town to begin their career with us as fellows. It's incredibly fun. My wife and I direct the program, and one of the things that we do every year is ask you if you'd be willing to let them live in your homes, and every year you say yes, which is amazing.

Many of you know that we received an incredible gift of a house where we plan to put about half the fellas—probably the men will live there. But the reality is, because at the end of our recruiting season this year we got this absolute surge of really fantastic candidates and we accepted them all, so even though we have a house, we're not really any better off than we used to be. We still need a ton of homes because we just have so many fellows coming. And aren't they lovely? They're beautiful people.

This explains a little bit of how it works and answers a bunch of questions. If you are remotely interested, I would say if you have greater than a 2% interest in housing a fellow, send me a text. My number's on here. Just send me a text that says "maybe"—it's very light touch, just maybe—and we could tell you a little bit more about it.

Every year we have so much fun. The fellows are very filtered people. We really work hard to make sure that we bring people in that you would love to have in your homes, that we're delighted to have in the program. And it has been so fun. Sometimes I'll maybe get some of our hosts, some of our recurring hosts, up here to tell you how it's been such a blessing on their family. But we're so grateful to you for your hospitality and hope that you might consider hosting a fellow. So send me a text that says "maybe"—my number's on here—and we'll tell you a little bit more about it.

Also, take a look at these. We'd love it if you read these and get to know who they are. Wouldn't it be fun when they show up to get greeted by name by a bunch of random strangers—namely yourselves—because you recognize them and know who they are? So get to know them before they arrive.

The Book of James

So last week Sloop restarted us on our series in the book of James. It's not a gospel, but it kind of is, right? We started it months ago, and then Lent arrived. Because we hadn't finished James, we just kind of set it to the side, and then we spent several weeks off. The bummer about that is that whatever flow might have been established as you're following the internal logic of James is probably entirely obliterated at this point. That's too bad.

One thing about that that you might miss—I think it would be really hard to not miss—is that there is a distinct change in tone in James's letter. I'm going to try to recoup that, try to go back in time and help you get there again.

Let me read you how James addresses his audience throughout the book. He addresses his audience over and over again:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers. — James 1:2

And then later on in that chapter:

Don't be deceived, my dear brothers. — James 1:16

And then again:

My dear brothers, take note of this. — James 1:19

My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ. — James 2:1

In chapter two:

Listen, my dear brothers, what good is it? My brothers, not many of you should presume to be teachers. My brothers, my brothers, this should not be. My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives? — James 2:12, 3:1, 3:11-12

And then in chapter 4, kind of out of nowhere, the gloves come off:

You adulterous people, don't you know that friendship with the world is hatred toward God? — James 4:4

Dave talked about this last week. He actually calls us adulterous because we are often a faithless church.

And then here in our passage this morning—the cheery thing that Joe read to you—James says:

Come now, you rich, weep and howl for the miseries that are coming upon you. Your riches have rotted and your garments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver have corroded, and the corrosion will be evidence against you and will eat your flesh like fire. — James 5:1-3

A little different from "my dear brothers," don't you think?

James's language here in chapter 5 is so strident that the commentators have debated for centuries: Who is he even talking to? Is he still addressing his dear brothers, or has he shifted and kind of slipped into this polemic against a wicked, unbelieving world? What is the deal with this?

It's startling if you're reading through James. John Calvin argued that this section is written to non-Christians. The language is so strong, they didn't think he's talking to us. He thinks it's written to non-Christians to be overheard by Christians. And that for two reasons: first, so the believers would not envy the wealthy and the miserable end that is coming upon them, and second, so that they might be reassured that God will avenge.

The wrongs that they suffer at the hands of the wicked wealthy. Calvin might be right, but I don't think he is. In my direct observations, Christians can be incredibly selfish in their accumulation of wealth, and I think that it would be a mistake to just say "nah, he's not talking to us." I don't think that's an impulse that we should have. In fact, I'm suspicious anytime the impulse is to exclude us from criticism, and I want you to be as well.

There is always—every time you're in the scriptures and you come across a passage that's at all challenging—we have this thing in our nature. This is, you know, "who really ought to hear this? That guy, right?" Do you know what that's like? This passage is like, "I know a guy that this is perfect for, right?" I just want to ask you to subdue that instinct and consider perhaps that James is talking to you. Maybe talking to all of us.

I want to invite you to take not this more comfortable path that just says, "Yeah, this is for something else," but assume that James has something to say to you. We are among the wealthiest, most privileged people that have ever walked the face of the earth, and I suspect that we are also tempted by the luxury and the opportunity that wealth provides. While it is not necessarily the case that to be wealthy is to be selfish, I think history shows that there is a remarkable correspondence between the accumulation of much economic value and the devaluing of others.

We are an insatiable people, and if we can obtain more, even at the expense of others, it very often seems like a good idea to us. And so, with apologies to Calvin and others who may agree with him, here again, the word of the Lord for you:

Come now, you rich, weep and howl for the miseries that are coming upon you. Your riches have rotted and your garments are moth eaten. Your gold and silver have corroded, and their corrosion will be evidence against you and will eat up your flesh like fire. You have laid up treasure in the last days. Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, are crying out against you, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. You have lived on the earth in luxury and in self-indulgence. You have fattened your hearts in the day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered the righteous person; he does not resist you. — James 5:1-6

I want you to notice three things that James says here about wealth: he says that it corrodes, it convicts, and it corrupts. Let's talk about corrosion.

The Indestructibility of Gold

You guys know what the magical power of gold is? What makes it so completely unique in all the world? You cannot destroy it. You can heat it up, you can dip it in acid, you can expose it to salt water, you can leave it out and oxidize it—it doesn't matter. Just sweep it up, cool it off, rinse it down, and it's gold. Gold cannot be destroyed. It's unbelievably chemically stable. Everything else turns to nothing. Iron will rust, carbon obviously will burn. Everything else interacts with something else to its own destruction—except gold.

However much gold there is today is however much gold there is always. You cannot destroy it. You know, there's even a theory—a pretty plausible theory—did you know this? That gold may be extraterrestrial. In its very nature, gold may not have naturally formed on the earth, but it may have been deposited in the earth's crust during a meteor shower ages and ages ago, because there's simply nothing else like it. It has certain attributes that have made us recognize it as a superior monetary good for basically across centuries and across cultures. One of the reasons is that it's scarce, and another is that it's incredibly durable.

And what James is saying about this—the gold which is understood to be indestructible—is that it's destructible. He says in verse 2:

Your riches have rotted, your garments are moth eaten, your gold and your silver have corroded.

What he's saying is you think that your wealth is permanent, but it's not. It all can go away. One of the lies of wealth is that it will protect us forever. James is warning those who comfort ourselves with our 401k accounts: nothing is permanent. Nothing endures. Stocks go up and stocks go down. The 60/40 stock-bond portfolio that kind of has been the standard for ages doesn't seem to work anymore, thanks to endless money printing. The purchasing power of your dollar goes down month after month. You may think that your wealth is durable, but James is telling you that it is not. It rots. It gets eaten. It corrodes.

Wealth Convicts

Not only does wealth corrode, but listen to this—this is even worse news. It convicts. He says:

Their corrosion will be evidence against you and will eat your flesh like fire. You've laid up treasure in the last days.

I wonder if you've ever thought of your decaying pile of accumulated wealth as evidence that testifies against you. Evidence of what, you might ask? Well, I think that what James means is that when that which is supposedly indestructible rots in our hands, we might want to assume that it is a judgment. It's prima facie evidence of what we did not use for the good of others. The very pile of money here that we think is evidence of what we deserve might just be evidence of what we haven't shared.

I have a friend here in this church who unmistakably sees his...

Money is a tool. I know a guy here in this church who unmistakably sees his money as a tool to accomplish kingdom purposes. Over and over I have seen something happen where there was some kind of a problem, some kind of a need in the kingdom, and this particular guy says, "Well, I can write a check and that problem would go away." So he writes a check because as far as he knows, that's what his money is for. He just believes the reason that God has entrusted him with a significant amount of wealth is so that he would be on hand when there was a need for money that would accomplish God's purposes.

He and his wife are incredibly generous and open-handed, and they are just cheerful givers. But I also know others for whom money is chiefly a scorecard. It is money that is acquired perhaps illegitimately—and I think more likely at the expense of others. And then instead of those resources being released for the good of the kingdom, they are stored up, never to be spent, but simply to be gloried in or else spent in superfluous luxury.

It is possible that the very thing that you use to comfort yourself with—your self-sufficiency as proof of what you deserve—could become exhibit A when you are interrogated by God about how you spent your life.

Any one of us may one day have a day like the day that Ebenezer Scrooge had when his old partner Jacob Marley came to visit him. Now I don't know if you are like me, but I've seen A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens as many Christmases as I have been alive. I've seen this scene over and over, and I think this captures the spirit of what James is talking about.

The Chain We Forge

Wealth corrodes. Wealth convicts. But now I think the most insidious thing—wealth corrupts. I don't mean that it corrupts itself. We covered that when we talked about corrosion. I mean it corrupts us. Wealth changes us. The love of money, which is nearly ubiquitous in human experience, has the slow effect of turning us into people that we do not want to be. That we never meant to become. But it may turn us into—we may already be turning into—people that we do not want to become. It's a real effect, and I don't think any of us are immune from it.

Listen to what he says:

Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, are crying out against you. And the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. You have lived on the earth in luxury and in self-indulgence. You have fattened your hearts in a day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered the righteous person. He does not resist you. — James 5:4-6

We don't set out to do that, but it happens. No one in this room expects that you would ever do that. But it's insidious and it creeps upon us.

Wealth may turn you into a person who does things that today you would find appalling, but which, when you do them, will no longer seem appalling. None of us set out wanting to be self-indulgent, but have you gotten to a point where your own love of supplying for yourself is so great that you would rob God himself to pad your pockets, to fatten your heart? Is there something that you began for the good of others that has become chiefly a means of acquiring more for yourself?

Does anybody know An Inspector Calls or did you have to read it in high school? All right, we got one. Nobody else? Okay, Alan, of course—you literary wise person.

Okay, this is a fantastic play. It was written—I don't know exactly when—but it's set in like early 1900s, 1912 maybe, in England. It's about a wealthy family. It opens with this wealthy family enjoying some dinner, and then this inspector—a sense of like a police officer—shows up and tells them about a woman who has died.

Each person in the room—this very self-satisfied, self-righteous wealthy family—they feel it's of no concern to them. They have no connection to her, no responsibility to her. But as the story unfolds, person by person by person is revealed to have had a profound and selfish and injurious effect on this young woman.

My daughter watched it and she thought it was boring. She's wrong. It is gripping. It is an incredibly compelling story. It's on Netflix—you can go watch it. And I really sincerely hope that when you do, toward the end of the story, toward the end of this whole thing, there's a scene where the inspector offers this denunciation on this family, and it is exactly what James is talking about.

So after you watch the scene, then go home and watch An Inspector Calls sit on Netflix. It is worth watching. But here is this kind of climactic scene:

Well, just remember this: there are millions and millions of other Smiths and John Smiths still left with us with their lives and hopes and fears, their suffering and chance of happiness all intertwined with our lives, and what we think and say and do. We don't live alone upon this earth. We are responsible for each other. And if mankind will not learn that lesson, then the time will come soon when he will be taught it in fire and blood and anguish. Good night.

You should go watch that movie.

The Antidote to Wealth's Corruption

Money is so incredibly useful, and it can be used for much good. Your generosity—this church's generosity—has done so much good. And by the way, you are allowed to use your wealth for your own good. Go out to dinner, go on vacation, be happy. God is generous. He's lavish to us. And this is not—I don't think James is giving us a call to live in some self-inflicted poverty.

But it would be foolish if you are not aware of wealth's deceptive charms and your susceptibility to it. It changes us into people that we did not set out to be.

The antidote is that we pay fair wages. That you don't strip your company's earnings to pad your own pocket so that the company can't meet payroll and then you have to pay unfair wages.

The antidote is that we're generous to the poor. Jesus says you always have the poor with you, but he also invites us to seek to alleviate suffering where we find it.

The antidote is that we would invest in the kingdom—that we would lay up treasure in heaven by spending our temporary resources on things that will literally matter forever.

The antidote is that we would be open-handed people who live lives of integrity and who are on guard for our own natural, insidious tendency toward greed.

And by the way, when I say that we would be generous, what I mean is we would share our own money. It's easy to be generous with other people's money. It's a different thing entirely to forgo what we consider our own or feel entitled to.

Here's how Paul puts it to Timothy:

In 1 Timothy 6, command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age so they may take hold of the life that is truly life.

Friends, if you choose that path, you will be walking in the footsteps of Jesus, who though he was rich, for your sake became poor so that you through his poverty might become rich.

I think what James would ultimately point us to here is not just that we are repeatedly committing acts of generosity, but that as we do so we are mindful of Jesus's sacrifice—his sacrificial life—that is itself the antidote for the enslaving impact of wealth.

May God give us the grace to be so deeply aware of the generosity of Christ—and not just his generosity in general, but his generosity to us, his generosity to me, his generosity to you—that you would reflect his love to others and thereby be spared from piercing yourself with many griefs. Amen.

Lord Jesus, you are the generous one. You are the one who has and is entitled to everything, but who gave up everything for our own good. Will you help us to be like you? And where we find ourselves enticed by greed—as we are so easily susceptible to that—we would quickly give something away. We would quickly give our employees a raise. We would quickly...

look to the needs of others we would quickly look to the cross to your overwhelming generosity and love we love you amen