Do Not Seek the Treasure!

do-not-seek-the-treasure-o

 “Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being” (Matthew 6:19).

I went to dinner with some friends and the topic of discussion turned to internet security and hackers. There was much that I did not understand and that made my brain hurt, but the gist of the conversation is this– if someone wants your stuff bad enough, they’re probably going to find a way to get it.

There’s no such thing as security when it comes to the internet. Someone (or maybe several someones) out there is smart enough, patient enough, wily enough to crack any encryption and figure out any password.

Besides, even if you manage to fend off every thief, swindler, and hacker out there, you still can’t take it with you when you die. Case in point: have you ever seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul? Me neither.

Jesus told us that true treasures aren’t the kind behind bank vaults or in walnut frames behind your desk or the initials before and after your name. True treasures aren’t things; they’re people.

I heard a pastor say once that the reason the streets in heaven are paved with gold is that gold isn’t the real currency there. It’s like asphalt is here. The true currency in heaven is L-O-V-E. Not the syrupy, romantic kind in all those power ballads, but the kind that gives up its rights and lays down its life for the beloved. Like Jesus.

What’s the point to all this? I’m not saying to withdraw all your money and put it under your mattress. I’m telling you to remember that your worth isn’t found in your bank account or your job title or your degrees. Your true worth is in how much you love and how much you are loved.

The best treasure of all is knowing that the King of the Universe loves you truly, madly, deeply, and that love will never change.

The end.

PS I just remembered a great line from It’s a Wonderful Life that seems appropriate here– you can only take with you that which you’ve given away.

An Aborted Night in Franklin

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First of all, my tour of duty as dog-sitter has ended. At least part one has. Part two is next week.

It was a lot of fun and I met some interesting neighbors and their even more interesting pets, including one Golden Retriever who likes to carry her favorite tennis ball in her mouth when she goes on a walk and two very tiny Yorkies. And the people were nice, too. Everybody seemed to love Millie, the dog I was taking care of and they all wanted to pet her and talk to her.

My cat Lucy was so overjoyed to see me that she climbed in my lap and fell asleep. Apparently, that’s how she does excitement. But at least she purrs whenever she sees me. Unless her food and/or water bowls are empty. Then not so much.

Of course, to celebrate another week survived I went to Franklin. Unfortunately, the weather got a bit snippy so I didn’t stay as long as normal. There were the torrential rains and the thunder that sounded like cannons. There was me in my increasingly wet sandals. That was not a good combination.

The good news is that I did not melt and I did eventually dry off. I got my McCreary’s fix and even got to visit my favorite  church building. There was even a lull in the rain, so I was able to walk around a bit.

The older I get, the more I think that the riches that really count are the experiences you get from living, from going out and trying new things and taking risks and sometimes from simple things like walking in the rain. Those are what you look back on with fondness more than any degrees or business accomplishments.

There. That’s my big moral of the day. Nothing too philosophical or theological. Just some stuff I’ve been learning lately.