A Rich Man's Burden

Dear Eugene,

The morning is soft and gentle.  It need not be, certainly not for Vancouver, not in September.

I feel secure and easy this morning, like a rich man.

A rich man who knows no God would say to himself, This is nice, how can I keep it nice longer?  Forever?  For myself, my kids, for as many generations after me as I can live to see?

He forgets the others in this world.  He forgets his neighbors who do not feel secure and easy, who might never be rich like him.  He reads the newspaper and sees numbing statistic, reads his neighbors' face and sees blank paper.  He knows no one, not even himself, most of all not God.  He thinks about his next meal shortly after the last, but shall never be satisfied.  He lusts after his next weekend, his next getaway, his next moment of pleasure and relaxation, but shall forever find no rest.  Anxiety and fear shall never leave him.  He wants to kiss someone, anyone, and feels ashamed and stupid for being so hungry.  He takes a refreshing drink of water in his new kitchen, takes stock of its beauty and functionality, everything seems fine and at its right place; and he drawls a deep sigh.

The rich man who knows God weeps in a morning soft and gentle, When will justice be restored for the whole world?  When will my broken neighborhood be mended?  When will our yearning for truth and beauty be satisfied?  When will we be delivered from evil and be safe/saved at last?

His richness is his cross, bears on his shoulders heavier by the day, as he matures in his walk with the Giver.

And the Giver, the Comforter, the Deliverer, the King says to him, You go do my will, on earth as it is in heaven.  Do it this morning when it is soft and gentle.  Do more of it the next morning when it is stormy and devastating.  You are made for this, your wealth given for this, your knowing because of this.

I am made for this, and I pray to know and love God more by doing his will.

Yours, Alex

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