“[Jesus said,] ‘Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.'” – Luke 12:33-34

Jesus, I am not a wealthy man… by some standards.
Were I to leave my work, I’d quickly run through savings,
have no home, sell the things I use to give me joy –
the instruments, the cameras, the things that prompt my memory.

By other standards, I have wealth beyond imagination.
I do not know where my next meal will come from, but
I know that it will come. I know that if a wave arises
or a lava river flows, I’ll have a place where I am safe.

My wealth be great or small, I must confess, it still is mine.
In honesty, I’d sooner heed Isaiah’s words: do good,
seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, raise
my voice in favor of the widow. But.

You, Jesus, raised the bar. The tithes has turned to everything:
my ukulele, photographs; my work time and my leisure,
what I think and write and speak and make.
For you demand all these be yours, be God’s, be holy gift.

So Jesus, I confess that though I give you much,
it is not all. I may give alms; I may give time;
I’ve taken on the role of the religious, but:
it is not all. It is not all.

Dear Jesus, please accept my offerings, my alms
of treasure and of time, of sweat and contemplation. Take
the portion of my heart that unreservedly I give to you. And
forgive the heart, and treasure, which I still keep for myself.

A poem/prayer based on Luke 12:32-40, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel Reading for Year C, Proper 14 (19).

Photo by Eric Anderson.