In my first address, I focused on the culture story, the money story, the "more is better" story. I acknowledged the seductive power of that story and the positive results it has had in our nation and in many of our lives. But I also acknowledged the down side of it, the "American paradox" as someone has called it, that in a time of unprecedented material prosperity we are also witnessing increased spiritual hunger and social decline. In many ways, this is the best of times materially, but the worst of times as evidenced by so many social indicators - divorce rates, child neglect and abuse rates, crime rates, out-of-wedlock birth rates, drug abuse rates. The list goes on and on. I suggested that one of the things that produced this material prosperity - radical individualism - is also the source of much of our social decline. I quoted research that shows that our popular assumption that more money will buy more happiness is simply wrong. But, to be sure, it is a very powerful and persuasive story and I have to admit that I - and you too - are all seduced by it, drawn to it and live much of our lives centered around it. Unless we are quite intentional about resisting it, we find ourselves captured by it and live much of our lives around it.

But as Christians we know about another story, a quite different story, a different account of our lives, and we are haunted by this other account, we are drawn to it, we claim our commitment to it, and on a good day, we intend to put our lives down in this other version of reality.

This is the story of the Gospel, the story we rehearse and retell and celebrate each Sunday as worshipping communities. It is an account of God's generosity and unconditional love that we are able to see in the mystery and beauty of God's creation, and that we have come to know in a crucial way in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is a story that fills our cup of gratitude to overflowing, calls us to be stewards of all that God has given us and to share our money with others.

It's a story that runs counter to the cultural story in many ways. It's a story that reminds us that life does not consist in the abundance of things; that he or she who loses their life will find it; that it is more blessed to give than to receive; that to whom much is given, will much be required; that we are called to be stewards, managers, of our financial resources that ultimately belong to God and to use them as God intended; that we are called to love our neighbor as ourselves, and that we are especially called to help those in greatest need. That's a different kind of story than the Culture Story - a softer story, a sharing story, a "we" story rather than an "I" story.

It's a story that we have come to trust because we have experienced it in intimate and concrete ways in our own lives, and it has provided great meaning and fulfillment and joy in our living. Surely all of us have experienced, in one way or another, that beautiful joy that comes in giving, a depth of joy that nothing else can provide. Surely all of us have experienced, in one way or another, that the more we lose our lives in service to others, the more we find that fulfillment we're all looking for and what living is really all about. Surely we have all experienced in very personal and concrete ways the truth that life is more than the abundance of things, far more! It's about family and friends and beauty and love and tender moments together.

The sign of this story is our baptism, for in baptism we have gladly accepted the gift of a new identity as beloved children of this generous and gracious God. And as children of God and disciples of Jesus Christ, we have embraced a new resolve in our lives, a new relation to our money, a new commitment to our neighbor, and a new passion for the well-being of the public community over which God rules.

Does the Gospel Story mean that we should not enjoy the material things we have? Several years ago when I returned from my sabbatical during which I became overwhelmed by the needs of the hungry and poor around the world, I found myself feeling guilty about eating a good meal, or living in a lovely home, or driving a nice car. I found it helpful to remember that right after Paul warns Timothy that the "love of money is the root of all kinds of evil," (I Timothy 6:10), he goes on to say that "God provides us with everything for our enjoyment," (I Timothy 6:17) and adds that the rich "should be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share." (I Timothy 6:18).

There you have it: a warning about the love of money in the Culture Story, and an encouragement to enjoy what God has given us and to share it generously with others. Albert Camus once said: "There is beauty in the world, and there are the poor. Whatever difficulties the enterprise may present, I would like never to be unfaithful either to the one or the other." (Camus, Lyrical and Critical Essays, pp.169-170). That's the tension in which we Christians are called to live. To be sure, we must generously share what God has given us with the poor - faithful to the poor - but we must also enjoy the beauty of all God has given us: the beauty of creation, the beauty of a good meal, the beauty of a lovely home, the beauty of a Bach chorale, the beauty of a lovely sanctuary - faithful to beauty. A successful businessman once told me that my ministry to him was constantly to remind him of the needs of the poor and his responsibilities to share his wealth and do whatever he could to help them, but his ministry to me was to remind me that it was okay to enjoy a good meal and not feel guilty about it. I find it interesting that Matthew 25 with its memorable lines when Jesus says in his parable of the Last Judgment about our neglect of the poor that "inasmuch as you have not done it to one of the least of these, you have not done it to me," is followed by Matthew 26 where Jesus says that the woman who poured that expensive perfume on him has done "a beautiful thing." Faithful to the poor, and faithful to beauty. That is the tension in which I live, and I assume you do too. (Story of Covenant's need to refurbish its stained glass windows for $87K in the midst of a hungry world.) ???

Let me paint the contrast between the Culture Story and the Gospel Story this way: If the story of money seduces us to be self-centered, the story of the Gospel calls us to be God-centered. If the story of money is to get more and more, the story of the gospel is to give more and more. If the story of the culture values things, the story of the Gospel values people. If the story of the culture is to love things and use people, the story of the Gospel is to love people and use things. If the story of money promotes a radical individualism, the story of the Gospel reminds us that God calls us to live in community and that we must share responsibility for one another. If the story of the culture centers around material things, the story of the Gospel centers around spiritual values. If the story of the culture, the story of money, is more is better, the story of the Gospel is enough is best. If the Culture story tempts us to make a fetish of our material possessions, the Gospel story encourages us to enjoy them as gifts of God, but not to worship them, not to center our lives around them. If the Culture story gives us the credit for what we have achieved in life, the Gospel story recognizes that all that we have is a gift of God's grace. If the story of money is to give in to that insatiable desire to buy more and more, immediate gratification and consumption, the story of the Gospel is to exercise self-discipline and restraint in material desires. "love of money is the root of all kinds of evil,"(I Timothy 5:10) and that "those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction." (I Timothy 5:9) Indeed throughout the witness of Scripture, there is an emphasis on restraint and moderation in economic affairs. The Biblical standard seems to be one of sufficiency. It deplores poverty on the one side, but over and over again warns against the dangers of wealth on the other. This note of sufficiency, of moderation, is picked up by the author or proverbs when he or she wrote: "Give me neither poverty nor wealth, . . . but only enough. . .Feed me with the food that is needful for me, lest I be full, and deny Thee, and say, "who is the Lord?" or lest I be poor, and steal, and profane the name of my God." (Proverbs 30:8-9)

It is underlined by the Christ when he warns us how difficult it is for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God, and when he called the man who always wanted more, "You fool!" It is confirmed by Paul when he writes to Timothy about how the "love of money is the root of all kinds of evil,"(I Timothy 5:10) and that "those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction." (I Timothy 5:9) He adds: "If we have food and clothing, that should be enough for us." (I Timothy 5:8). Throughout the scripture, the rule of thumb for material consumption seems to be rather consistently, "enough is best" which, of course, stands in sharp contrast to the cultural motto that "more is always better." Indeed, all the great religions of the world have taught that the truly abundant life is one of self-discipline and a restraint on the desire for more material things. All of them have contended that a truly joyful life is often frustrated by unrestrained material indulgence that deadens the spirit rather than liberates or enlivens it. Moderation, restraint, self-discipline, enough is best - those are the keynotes of the story of the Gospel.

But what is enough? I frankly don't like to ask that question because I have more than enough. Now that our three children have left the nest, does our two-person family really need two cars? Do we really need to remodel our kitchen? Do I really need all those clothes in my closet? What is enough? I rather imagine that each of us would answer that question differently, but the outer boundaries are clear. Real poverty is NOT ENOUGH, for it kills the spirit and debilitates the body; it brutalizes cell and soul alike. But unrestrained and opulent consumption is TOO MUCH. It, too, can kill the spirit and rob us of the meaning of life and add to the growing problems in the world. I believe that "too-muchness" can diminish the quality of life, just as "not-enoughness" can.

Several years ago, I read an article about a young man who had worked hard and struck it rich. He became very successful and wealthy, but found himself working 70-80 hours a week. He woke up one day and discovered that his busy, hectic schedule was keeping him from doing so many of the things he valued most of all. He found that whenever he wasn't working at his job, he spent maintaining all the things he had, including two cars and two homes. He had always enjoyed visiting with friends, reading good books, and listening to classical music but because of his work schedule and maintaining all his possessions, he wasn't able to spend much time on those things. So he decided to undertake a rather radical experiment for a year: he decided to reduce the number of things he owned to 250 things - every sock was one, every dish was one, every eating utensil was one, every pair of pants, every book, every chair, every CD, and so on. Each time he bought something new, he had to give away something he owned, so the number would remain at 250. After a year of that self-imposed discipline, he found that he had actually done all the things he valued and had not been able to do before: he had spent more time visited with friends, he had read more books, he had more time to listen to classical music, and his life was much fuller and richer. And he decided to spend the rest of his life owning only 250 things. (I suggested that discipline to my wife, but after going into her closet, she turned me down!) While few of us would chose that radically simplified life style, I salute those who do for they witness to the ideal of God's Kingdom and play the same role in regard to consumption and wealth as pacifists do in regard to violence.

But what about the rest of us? If the path of rigorous and radical self-denial is not our calling, should we not at least chose the path of responsible and restrained consumption. I believe it's a valid path for those of us who are not predisposed to asceticism and who find ourselves heavily committed to a consumption-oriented lifestyle. I guess in some ways it's a compromise, but I hope a responsible one. It's a path that tries to deal with the complexities of living in the world as it is and seeks to be responsible within it. It's more moderate than radical, more sober than fanatic, more reformist than revolutionary, perhaps more realistic than ideal. Yes, it can be a cop-out. It can easily be distorted into a religious baptism of gluttonous consumption and lead to the ratification of selfishness and greed and neglect of the poor. But it can also be a valid Christian response. What is this path of responsible consumption? There is no blueprint for it, of course. But it does mean that at times we will say "no" to the temptation to buy things we really want and can afford, but don't really need. (Claudia and I were recently tempted to buy a new set of expensive, shiny cookware. We've had our current set for almost 40 years. Sure, we could afford it. But do we really need it? Our old pots and pans were doing just fine, thank you, so we resisted that temptation.) It may mean that before we buy something rather major that is a luxury, something we really don't need, but want - before we buy it, we'll give an equal amount to programs to help the poor. It means we'll keep things a little longer rather than replacing them so soon. It means that we'll walk through the shopping malls and resist the temptation to buy more and more of what we need less and less. It means that we'll give more to charitable causes, including the church. It means that we'll resist the seduction of material things and the notion that "more is always better." In other words, it means that we will "seek first the Kingdom of God," knowing that all things needful will be given to us.

A few months ago, the Sunday Charlotte Observer had a front-page story about a businessman, Bruce Parker, who had made a lot of money under the banner of the culture money story, but learned the Gospel story from a little boy in Mexico. Bruce was with his church mission team building cinderblock houses in a border village south of Texas. On the final day, his work team hosted a party for the town's children. The July afternoon was relentlessly hot and they quickly ran out of cold drinks. Through the crowd, Bruce spotted one child sitting alone in a corner, savoring what was left of his lemonade. When Parker went to say hello, the boy looked inside his cup, then offered Bruce a drink. Sweaty and parched, Bruce took a sip of the cool juice, and handed the cup back. The boy took a sip; Bruce took a sip. The lemonade was down to one precious sweet swallow. Just then, another member of the work team came over to take their picture. The boy smiled at this new stranger, slowly held up the cup and offered him the last sip. I think that's a parable of the Gospel Story: unselfishness, self-sacrificial giving, concern for the neighbor, a strong sense of community, restraint, sufficiency, enough is enough-those are the themes of the Gospel story. There you have it. Two stories: one from our culture and the other from our Gospel. We are pulled by both stories; aren't we all drawn to both of them. I believe the tension between these two stories is one of the most critical dramas in our lives and the critical issue of stewardship. And I find - and I assume you do too - that the first story of consumption and greed and anxiety and always wanting more, the dominant story of our culture, has a great hold on my life too. And if we are not quite deliberate and intentional about resisting it, we fall into it and forget the other story. Then the baptism reality of our lives receives only scraps and incidentals and the consequences of such a fall into that cultural story shows up most clearly in our stewardship.

And so, the critical question of stewardship which you and I must honestly ask ourselves is this: Which is the dominant story in our lives? Which story has the most influence over me, over my church, over our denomination? Which story is the controlling one in the way we think about money and in the way we spend it and the amount we give to serve others and the cause of Christ? I believe our stewardship is a test of which story has our strongest allegiance.

And I believe that in recent years Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has failed that test. What's the evidence for that, and what can we do about it? That's the subject of my third address.

[See Oldenburg's next sermon in this series]