Everyday Thieves

NOTE: The manuscript may contain spelling or grammatical errors, and may deviate from the actual audio of the final sermon delivery. Quote with caution.

Scripture Reading

"Do not steal"

-Exodus 20:15

"Give to the one who asks you, and don’t turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you."

-Matthew 5:42

 The title of this message is Everyday Thieves. It's always interesting trying to conjure up illustrations to open up sermons because, and this might just be me, but I always wondered how these preachers in postmodern evangelistic churches come up with sermons every single week and for every single week with their sermons they just so happen to have a story personally related to that which they're preaching. Either somebody's not telling the truth, or their lives are much more interesting than mine. I never feel like I have relatable stories. 

Save for this week. I prefaced by saying all that because I have a story this week, this very week, that I was talking about 'do not steal.' As you all know, I am very ambitious about decorating for Christmas. This ambition extends to the work that I do outside of ministry. So, there is now a hotel lobby with Christmas decorations filling it up. (My favorite time of the year; I make no apologies. Thanksgiving schmanksgiving, you know? Thanksgiving has an advertising issue. They need to come up with better merch, s'all I'm saying.)

But as I unpacked many of the decorations there, I unpacked this old porcelain manger set, something that could have only come straight out of the '90s. I was excited because this could be a fun thing to set up. I start cleaning it off and whatnot, and get all the pieces set out. Here's the camel, here's the cow, here's the wise man, here's Mary, here's Joseph, here's a little lamb. But I noticed something after I finished. Where is baby Jesus? 

"Where is baby Jesus?" I inquired. I put this inquiry out into the world, and my sister just happened to know the answer: "Oh yeah, several years ago, we put out Baby Jesus, and someone stole him."

"Stole Baby Jesus?!" I asked. Someone, in the middle of Christmas time, came into a hotel lobby, saw a manger set, and in full view, yoinked Baby Jesus. Somebody did that?! That was my question. How are you going to... you gotta try and get yourself in the mentality of whoever that guy was. What decisions led you to this point in your life, bro? Tell me your story, sir. I genuinely want to know. Long story short, we don't have a manger in the hotel this Christmas.

A less humorous story came from... this was a while back, but my family had this minivan. This old white minivan was one that every single child at some point in the family got the ability to drive. Every single one of us had an opportunity, however brief a beautiful time, to drive or own this steadfast family van. They even affectionately lavished a name upon this minivan: Mrs. Nesbitt. Mrs. Nesbitt served the family well for many years. As a second vehicle, she was terrific for me.

However, one night, someone stole her. Someone smashed in the driver-side window, popped it open, took the ignition out and fiddled with it, then proceeded to take Mrs. Nesbitt on a joyride in which they hit up various stores across Denver. They smashed shop windows and looted registers, the whole nine yards. Mrs. Nesbitt was then abandoned on the side of the road—a terrible end for a superb van.

 I think about the theft of that vehicle and all of the people who were harmed by the actions of the thieves. For me, there's not only the short-term inconvenience of not having a vehicle, which has gone on for some time now because it's just not in the cards to get another one. There is also the inconvenience of commuting to work for extended amounts of time, the inconvenience on my life at the time of having to go back and forth between the tow company and the car repair shop back to the insurance company, to spend time on the phone with various individuals, with the police, to take a whole afternoon to go out to evidence lock up for cars and retrieve my stolen vehicle, to sign it out just so I can have a tow truck driver pick it up and take it another place so that they could tell me it wasn't worth repairing…. 

It was all a waste of my time, a waste of my resources. Long-term, my insurance goes up in cost. I am still determining when I'll be able to afford a second vehicle, and that's an inconvenience to me. These individuals and their decisions have financially wronged me. In addition, the stores that were stolen from were wronged. They had to pay to fix their windows, and they had to offset the costs of the lost merchandise. The taxpayers lose because now the police have to follow up on all these incidents, on individuals that they're never going to catch, follow up on the theft of a vehicle that they're never going to be able to compensate me for. All of these inconveniences because a couple of guys decided to break the eighth command.

If you haven't noticed by now,  there is no command broken that does not cause damage to other human beings. The command to not murder, or as we saw in the more profound sense, to not wish ill of others, if broken, ends up hurting people. But to stab someone or strangle them? That's an explicit wronging. The command to not commit adultery also hurts people explicitly. But the thought process behind the eighth command, and why we might have a more difficult time understanding it, is that the consequences of breaking the command are usually not as explicit. 

Those gentlemen will never see the individuals they have wronged; they probably will put such things immediately outside their minds and move on with their lives. So too it is with people who, as the sermon title suggests, are everyday thieves. We are, in some sense, everyday thieves. And I want you to understand that I do not reach this conclusion lightly.

Instead, I fear that this command, this word from the Lord, just as with the other words, might be oft overlooked in Christian circles merely due to the fact they don't think they've broken the command explicitly. You are sitting there now, and the very thought that might be going through your mind is, "Sigh. Finally, I can relax. This is one command I've got no problem with. I might have had some issues with the other commands, but this one right here, I am a-okay." I am here on a mission from the Lord today to tell you to think again. 

 There was a study taken by the Barna Group where 86 percent of adults claimed that they completely satisfied God's eighth command, that they had no issues with it whatsoever. Because when we think of 'Thou shalt not steal,' what do we think of? We think of a man in a white and black striped shirt with a little mask on, sneaking away from a bank, carrying a comically large bag of cash with a little dollar sign on it, gingerly avoiding searchlights. That's what we think of when we think of the eighth command and those who break it. We might readily condemn the thieves who stole Mrs. Nesbitt, for they have blatantly flouted this command. But when we pinch a pen from our workplace, we might not even think twice. Have we broken the command as well? Do we justify our sinful acts by favorably comparing ourselves with people who are "worse?"

 As with the other commands, I want to establish the severity of the command. Then, I will go through three callings this command calls us to for a nice four-point rhythm that I hope you will enjoy.

Anti-Christian? You Can't Be Anti-theft

So, first things first, before I get too deep in the weeds, I must pull back for a second and reiterate that  to be a person who is objectively anti-theft, you must be a Christian. It is a distinctly Christian viewpoint. Jesus teaches this plain truth that you ironically need to be a Christian to defend:

"Don't store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don't break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

-Matthew 6:19–21

Amen. Greed is distinctly anti-Christian. To want nothing more than storing treasures on earth is distinctly anti-Christian. It's not to say we can't have treasures, but to ask where is your true treasure held? 

Most wish to oust God from the equation when debating the ethical ramifications of theft. But, as I expressed last week, if you dismiss God from the human equation, if you desacralize humans and imply that they are not made in the image of God but instead are mere by-products of evolution (that is to say, we are just lucky animals), then there is no basis by which you are able to condemn thievery. After all, if we are nothing but animals, then the laws of the jungle still apply. It's every man and every woman for themselves. Animals don't know empathy. Animals don't feel sympathy. Animals hunt, eat, mate, and live or die. Their lives are based solely upon those principles. To misappropriate something from another animal to your animal self makes sense. It's less work for you. It means whoever you stole from is less of a competition now. 

Christians argue otherwise. We're not just animals. To steal is to commit harm, and harming another made in the image of God is an affront to his holiness. We're more than animals, which is a significant reason we don't steal.

Under such wisdom, the Christian instinct is to believe that we've effortlessly fulfilled the requirements of this eighth word from the Lord. But I want to consider for a moment, broadly speaking (not just the people in this room but considering America in general) all the things we are used to seeing on a regular basis that constitute an infringement of the eighth command. Consider, and I'm about to spew a long and non-exhaustive list at you, but consider what constitutes theft.

 Insider trading, embezzlement, selling fraudulent products or services, taking money from others without producing value for their purchases—such as running casinos or other gambling services. What is charging exorbitant interest rates if not theft? (Everyone said amen! Who feels like openly retaliating against the current mortgage industry? I'll say it now: The current mortgage industry is satanic, and the devil is a liar.) To exploit the poor is theft. To not honor contractual agreements is stealing. To not pay back your loans is theft. To trick individuals into bad loans or into credit cards that cannot be paid back, or to be individuals who rack up their credit card debts knowing they can never pay them back? Theft. Frivolous lawsuits, cheating employees of their wages, employees cheating their bosses out of labor, fraudulent insurance claims, plagiarism, online piracy? All theft. (Fun fact: one of the most pirated movies in 2004 was Passion of the Christ. You guys can go figure that out however you wish.)

 I mentioned wage theft earlier. The words of Amos come to mind:

"Hear this, you who trample on the needy and do away with the poor of the land, asking, "When will the New Moon be over so we may sell grain, and the Sabbath, so we may market wheat? We can reduce the measure while increasing the price and cheat with dishonest scales. We can buy the poor with silver and the needy for a pair of sandals and even sell the chaff!" The LORD has sworn by the Pride of Jacob: I will never forget all their deeds. Because of this, won't the land quake and all who dwell in it mourn? All of it will rise like the Nile; it will surge and then subside like the Nile in Egypt. 

And in that day—this is the declaration of the Lord GOD—I will make the sun go down at noon; I will darken the land in the daytime. I will turn your feasts into mourning and all your songs into lamentation; I will cause everyone to wear sackcloth and every head to be shaved. I will make that grief like mourning for an only son and its outcome like a bitter day."

-Amos 8:4–10

Clearly, the Lord doesn't appreciate exploitative employers. And yet, here we are in a landscape of late-stage capitalism, witnessing that very evil. A majority of employers see no issue with underpaying their employees so that they might advance their profits. And if jobs have to be cut so that exponential quarterly reports keep the stockholders happy? So be it. 

All these things are theft. Everyday theft and almost everyone commits such acts without much thought. This is breaking the eighth commandment. Don't think I'm about to put on a communist hat. I'm merely trying to pen a sermon that points out how casually America breaks this command.

God Hates Theft

Like the previous two commands, the command "you shall not steal "is only two words in Hebrew: "No stealing." It assumes the individual's right to personal property and that, should their personal property be stolen, the thief would be brought to justice. While such realities come pre-baked into our Western sensibilities, this was a novel idea for a pre-modern world. Under harsher agrarian conditions, theft was an everyday reality of the powerful crushing the feeble.

In such an environment, Israel's commands stand out. In Exodus 22, verses 1 through 4, an explicit valuation is given to the injured party in instances of theft. If a man steals an ox or a sheep, kills it, or sells it, he shall repay five times for an ox and four times for a sheep. If a thief is found breaking into a home or property and is killed, it's considered justice meted out.

Stealing is an offense against God, intrinsically linked with the command not to covet, which we will address in a couple of weeks. Simply put, to see something you want and take it unjustifiably, causing someone else damage, is theft. If it doesn't explicitly belong to you, taking it without permission is stealing—end of story.

God takes theft very seriously. A tragic example is the biblical character Achan in Joshua 6 and 7. I assume everyone here knows the story of Jericho. God instructs Israel to take nothing from Jericho, a city devoted to destruction; all within the city belongs to the Lord. Achan disobeys this clear command.

In Joshua chapter seven, verses twenty through twenty-one, we see remorse for breaking the command and the ties of the eighth command to the tenth command. Achan confesses to the Lord and Joshua, saying,  "I have sinned against the Lord, the God of Israel… When I saw among the spoils a beautiful cloak from Babylon, five pounds of silver, and a bar of gold weighing a pound and a quarter, I coveted them and took them."

He saw something he wanted that was not his and seized it. The covetous heart manifested in a physical act of sin. As a consequence, God's fury causes the Israelites to lose a battle and begin to despair. This biblical account illustrates that breaking the eighth command has far-reaching societal consequences. As with the previous commands, to break God's rules is to commit to playing havoc with the flourishing of society. God shows Israel then and us today that one person's failure creates consequences for everyone.

Achan brought trouble upon the Israelites. So, God brought trouble upon him. Following the turmoil among the Israelites, they ended up stoning Achen. Not only did they stone him, but all the stolen goods were left at that place, buried under rocks as a reminder of the impacts of individual theft upon the collective.

God does not mince words regarding His commands. There are consequences to breaking them—consequences we are witnessing in real-time in our nation. From the highest offices to the lowest professions, people engage in theft, unraveling the fabric of our civilization. It ultimately hurts everyone.

The Lord hates theft. Proverbs 11:1 says, "Dishonest scales are detestable to the Lord, but an accurate weight is His delight."

 In my studies, I came across a painting in the style of Norman Rockwell by Leslie Thrasher, initially published in the Saturday Evening Post. It depicts a well-dressed woman and a butcher balancing an animal on a scale. If you look carefully, you see that both of them are trying to tip the scale in their own favor. The butcher tries to tip it in his favor the woman in her favor, and ultimately, they cancel each other out.

This painting is a good representation of what it means to use dishonorable scales, to try and bend the world and opportunities decidedly to your favor at someone else's expense. There's nothing wrong with working hard to get ahead or negotiating a good deal; as Christians, we are called to be shrewd as serpents. (Matthew 10:16) But it is a violation of the eighth commandment to try and tip the scales of our prospects into our favor to the detriment of someone else.

For example, if you are asked to commission a piece of artwork, it is immoral to overcharge, robbing someone of every last nickel. It devalues the individual. Instead, Christians should reject greed, which is at the root of theft. Theft occurs when the offending party decides that they deserve more than they have and feels entitled to take what is not theirs from someone who needs it less than them.

Reject Greed

 This leads us to the first thing Christians should do in light of this command: reject greed. Greed is at the root of this human affliction known as theft. The offending party has decided that they deserve more than they have, feeling entitled to take what is not theirs from someone who–in their eyes–needs it less than them. They justify their acts, often distortedly wrapping them in noble needs:

"I need to feed my family." 

"I'm only robbing from those that can afford to lose it!"

"You don't understand my life, man. Don't judge me."

To be clear, if society has broken down to the point where people have to resort to theft to feed their families, that is wrong; something in society has broken down. But we're talking about a mostly functioning society and everyday thieves, both on the minor and macro scale. We must scrutinize the justifications these individuals employ for their acts and wonder if they are indeed justified.

Christians must recognize that we must confront our greed; otherwise, it will drive us to do challenging and regrettable things. We must kill our idols of Mammon. If we don't do this, we will find ourselves operating solely to acquire what we desire most, and we will often succumb to greed.

First Timothy 6:10 instructs us that  "the love of money is the root of various evils. By craving it, some stray from the faith and inflict many griefs upon themselves." Piercing oneself with many griefs — imagine cheerfully inviting misery upon oneself, all in the name of greed. Imagine horrifically sanitizing greed in the name of getting ahead! "Well, I'm just hustlin'. I'm just trying to make it, you know?" 

Are you beholden to an idol of money and market? Have you even ever stopped to ask? Greed can blind you to the reality of God in your life. In Luke twelve, verses thirteen through fifteen, someone from a crowd asked Jesus to arbitrate over an inheritance dispute. To this, Jesus replied, "Who appointed me a judge or arbitrator over you? Be on guard against all greed, for one's life is not in the abundance of possessions."

Jesus emphasizes, once again, that life transcends material belongings. Anyone who prizes owning the accouterments of wealth may very well need to evaluate their lives and ask if money serves them or if they serve money. Speaking as someone who treasures having things, I'm constantly evaluating myself and ensuring I operate with a mentality that I certainly don't need my possessions more than I need God. Failing to recognize this devalues God, creating an idol — a repetition of breaking the second commandment.

Consider the folly in the young man's concern that he saw fit to lay at Christ's feet. Alive during one of the greatest moments in human history when God became man to die for our sins. Yet, his primary concern is about wealth. He turns to God himself, saying, "Give me what is mine." Jesus rightly calls him out, calling out the insignificance of such a juvenile preoccupation. Be on guard; life is not about an abundance of possessions. Reflecting on idols and greed, ask yourself the question I keep bringing around time and time again: Is God allowed to take it from you? If not, that thing holds more value than Him. What God cannot take from you is an idol you worship.

This isn't just about sidestepping theft (or greed) but examining the myriad of ways we break the eighth commandment. We might not rob stores, but have we resorted to deceit to achieve our financial goals? Consider what the Heidelberg Catechism has to say on the matter of the eighth command:

 "QUESTION 110.

What doth God forbid in the eighth commandment?

Answer. God forbids not only those thefts, and robberies, which are punishable by the magistrate; but he comprehends under the name of theft all wicked tricks and devices, whereby we design to appropriate to ourselves the goods which belong to our neighbor: whether it be by force, or under the appearance of right, as by unjust weights, ells, measures, fraudulent merchandise, false coins, usury, or by any other way forbidden by God; as also all covetousness, all abuse and waste of his gifts."

That last line is worth consideration. I find myself (and so should you) mulling over it a lot lately. Maybe you've never robbed a gas station, but do you abuse or waste your gifts? God forbids not only straightforward larcenies but all wicked tricks, fraudulent practices, and covetousness — any abuse or waste of His gifts. This we must thoroughly contemplate. Perhaps we've been given gifts, but we cling to them too tightly, refusing to share them with others, robbing them of Christ. We have ample opportunities to minister the gospel, yet we chose the path of least resistance. In this, we're robbing our neighbor. Perhaps we've acquired excess funds but failed to be prudent or generous as commanded. Conceivably, we've clung to our finances too tightly or spent frivolously. Thus, the money intended by God as a just reward for our labors is now wasted.

I wonder how many of us would be convicted by that? 

How often do we steal, in a sense, from God?

Hope for the Thief

 Now, to ease up a little, let me say this: Theft, like all other commands, doesn't mean that the person who commits it is irrevocably condemned. I'm reminded of the story of Zacchaeus in Luke nineteen. He, a chief tax collector and a rich man, is considered the scum of tax collectors, notorious for their dishonest practices. He runs up to a sycamore tree to see Jesus.

Jesus, surprisingly, calls him down from the tree and asks to stay at Zacchaeus's home. Joyfully welcomed, this sparks complaints from others. They criticize Jesus for visiting with a sinful man. Zacchaeus notices this and tells Jesus, "I have done wrong. I will give half of what I own to the poor. And if I have extorted anything from anyone, I will pay them back four times what I extorted." In response, Jesus declares, "Salvation has come to this house today. I came to seek and save the lost."

Jesus teaches us that there's hope for those guilty of stealing and correction for those who would condemn them for it. The people to whom he repaid four times more than what he stole undoubtedly had a front-row seat to the transformative power of Jesus Christ. Whether they chose to receive that transformative power or not was up to them.

Why do I tell this story? Because the best witness to what Jesus has done in your life is not to pretend that you haven't made any mistakes; it's the opposite. We move people's hearts when we take responsibility for our sins and then make reparation by openly righting our wrongs. How many Christians do that? How many Christians, when it has been pointed out that they have wronged another, make excuses, make cover-ups, and never even consider making reparations? That is unscrupulous behavior unbecoming of Christians, and God condemns it. Instead of greed, Christians should have open hands of generosity, to be known by our charity.

Called to Work

But I get ahead of myself. I'll talk about charity in a moment.  The second thing this calls us to is work. To not steal means that we are not to profit wickedly. We are not to benefit by stealing from somebody else. When somebody refuses to work but still collects from the efforts of someone else's labor, is that not theft? We would quickly condemn a cushy CEO in his cushy armchair who doesn't do anything all day yet reaps the rewards of those who work under him. We also would equally condemn the individual who is illegally on welfare, refusing to commit to labor despite being able-bodied, because the government's taking care of it, the taxpayers are taking care of it, right? This is a defining attitude of the postmodern age—someone else will take care of it, someone else will take care of me.

Who cares if I littered? Someone else will take care of it! No, someone's going to pay. Who cares if I stole that car? I mean, look at where this guy lives. He's obviously got the money for it. No, somebody pays for it. "Somebody will take care of this, someone else will provide for me." Such an attitude is unloving to your neighbor. I'm not saying anyone in this room has such an attitude. I'm saying that's the mentality when someone does this—when they say, "someone else will provide." No, someone else will pay a price. Someone else will pay the toll for you. So, we are called to work. Christians are called to work.

In Second Thessalonians 3:10, Paul writes it crystal clear, "Anyone not willing to work doesn't eat."  Ephesians 4:28 states, "Let the thief no longer steal. Instead, he is to do honest work with his own hands so he has something to share with anyone in need."

That is the impetus placed upon the Christian's shoulders when they convert. You now realize how the world actually works; no one should get something for nothing. You will work, and the worker is worth his wages, but you will work whatever you can do, wherever your talents lie. Even if you can't get the job that best fits your skills, even if you don't get the gig that you think is most worth your time, if you say "no" to work, you have said "yes" to not eating. Period, end of discussion.

I've spoken very strongly to men who are jobless while their wives or girlfriends go out and work, sitting on their backsides playing video games all day. I've quoted 1 Timothy 5:8 more times than I can count to them: "Anyone who does not provide for his family, especially his family, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever." I've quoted it hundreds of times because I see a lot of dudes out there who are extraordinarily lazy. What are they doing when they profit off the labors of somebody else without lifting a finger themselves? They are stealing. It's not good; it breaks this command. 

Long story short, if the negative of this command is "don't steal," the positives are "work hard and be charitable." The charitable part, I'll get to later.

 Now, to add a qualifier, we might labor excessively. I understand that we live in a late-stage capitalist world, the unfortunate aftermath of an economy that the boomers thoroughly jacked up. We cannot save for retirement or buy multiple properties, let alone a single house. We find it increasingly challenging to provide for our families.

That is troubling because the worker is worth their wages. If I work hard, 45, 50 hours a week, maybe even more, I deserve to reap the rewards of my labors. Now, I am blessed with a godly employer that notices my work and pays me what I am worth. But I know other Christians are not so lucky, so they might find themselves violating this command by not working as hard for their bosses and instead goofing off on company time or working second jobs on company time. This, I think, is theft.

Equally, what makes this command convoluted in postmodern society is seeing how often we, in our world that worships money, join into the cacophony of greedy noise, which, in all likelihood, leads to theft. Contrary to what Jesus taught, billboards and advertisements everywhere constantly bombard us with the notion that life does consist of an abundance of worldly possessions. Christians have become quite distressingly comfortable chasing after prosperity more than God. They might even be able to justify it in some sick, twisted way: "Money controls every aspect of my life, but hey, at least I'm helping the economy. At least my kids get to live good lives, go to the best schools. I can buy the best things for them; I can provide well. My church gets a generous donation from me every single week, and they're doing great work." But I wonder, friends, if that's nothing more than a thin veneer covering up the worship of our greed, the glorification of our profits.

Destroy Mammon

The early church boldly called out greed for what it was. I know I was talking about work, but now I'm back on the topic of greed for a moment. Sorry, I'm just going to follow this rabbit trail, and you have to follow. (Hahahahahah) The early church had a name for the evil of covetousness and greed. Mammon. The early church knew what greed was; they understood that allegiance to money was a lack of allegiance to God. So they wished to smash this idol.

In fact, if you think Karl Marx was disproportionate, I want you to hear a quote from Martin Luther when he called out market fraud. He said, "Those who turn the free market into nothing but a carrion pit and a robber's den, see the poor defrauded every day and new burdens and higher prices imposed—they all misuse the market in their own arbitrary, defiant, arrogant way as if it were their privilege and right to sell their goods as high as they please." I wonder what he'd say about our world today. Some greedy business owners might shake in their boots, realizing they've offended the God of eternity for the momentary benefit of worshiping Mammon.

In the ancient world, Israel stood apart. How did they shatter the idol of money? Farmers weren't allowed to maximize their profits; they had to leave corners of their fields for the landless poor, leave sheaves of wheat for gleaners, and reserve grapes for the poor. To gather any dropped sheaves was to rob the destitute and famished. The principle they taught is the principle we emulate as Christians today.

Any material goods you receive are ultimately gifts from the Lord. What do we do with gifts from the Lord? We don't keep them for ourselves; instead, we freely give them away so that they edify the body.

1 Corinthians 6:19-20 teaches us that we are not our own; we are bought for a price and belong to the Lord. Everything is His anyway. So everything I have, besides the breath in my lungs and the beating heart in my chest, is a gift from God. Holding on to the excess blessing with an iron grip and refusing to bless others is a sin.

I'm not saying give away all your clothes or all your funds until you are homeless yourself because then you can't help anyone. But never ever buy into the lie that your life consists only of your possessions.

The question of work and our profits from our labors, and how much we should keep and how much we should spend, is ultimately a matter left up to conscience. But a good principle is to ask ourselves:  Am I more of a taker or a giver? This is a good question that could be applied to many aspects of your life.

Because there's a distinct difference between these two mentalities. What is your first instinct when you have extra money in the bank besides savings? This can be applied to many different principles, not just money—time and energy as well. I think a lot about tithing and how, even though it's an Old Testament principle, if we brought it into the New Testament, the question would be: Are you more of a taker or a giver? Are you somebody who sits and receives and invests nothing back, or do you give out of the abundance of your life, whether that be money, time, energy, efforts, or ideas? This isn't about to become a tithing message, so nobody gets nervous in the service; it's just something to consider.

God's commandment to not steal means even more than we might think (As I noted using the Heidelberg Catechism, reviewing Question 110). I wish to now delve into Question 111:

 "But what doth God require in this commandment?

Answer. That I promote the advantage of my neighbor in every instance I can or may; and deal with him as I desire to be dealt with by others: further also that I faithfully labor, so that I may be able to relieve the needy."

I'm trying to convey a few things here: Repeating things I've repeated the past couple of months. First, the Ten Commandments are much more in-depth than we might think, requiring more of Christians than we might have been taught to understand.

Another thing I've been emphasizing is that I want you to think of the Ten Commandments not just in terms of what you are not allowed to do but instead think of them in terms of what you should do. What God is calling you to do and what God requires of you. So, instead of thinking, "God is such a spoilsport" or "God just doesn't want me to have any fun," consider asking God, "What do you require me to do?" and be willing to do it gladly. Behind every negative imperative is a positive one.

God isn't merely requiring that you not steal; instead, He is asking you to actively work for your neighbor's good. As 1 Corinthians 10:24 teaches us, "no one is to seek their own good but the good of others." This is what Jesus advocates for in His sermon on the Mount, especially in the teaching on non-resistance, where He commands, "Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you."

Many Christians, perhaps even I, have a problem with this command. When we read it, we look for loopholes. We might think, "Surely God doesn't mean we have to always give to the one who's asking, especially not if they're lazy or if they've asked multiple times." But the command is unmistakable: give if you are asked, no conditions, no loopholes.

What Jesus requires here, what God is addressing in His commandments, is an attempt to uproot our selfishness, to make us realize what we're doing when we refuse to work for our neighbor's good. When we refuse, we're essentially demanding our own way. Selfishness blinds us to what is right or wrong. In selfishness, if we want something, we take it without considering the consequences.

Reflecting on the commandment not to murder, it ultimately comes down to a clash of wills, a clash between God's will and our will. If, in our eyes, something is right, even if it means someone else has to suffer or die, then so be it. However, as we discussed last week, love does not demand its own way. It doesn't seek its own will. So it is with our possessions. Love doesn't seek its own will.

Called to Bless

As Christians, above all else, we should be known for our generosity and hospitality. We should be known for how quickly we are able to help someone in need. Does it require money? Yes, it does. Therefore, we better be working hard, perhaps the hardest,  because the third thing that this command calls us to is to be a blessing. This is the central point I'm working towards in this message: instead of just not stealing, can we see the commandment as God's desire for His people to work for the good of others?

Let's look at one of my favorite confessions of faith—the Westminster Confession:

"Q. 141. What are the duties required in the Eighth Commandment?

Answer: The duties required in the Eighth Commandment are, truth, faithfulness, and justice in contracts and commerce between man and man; rendering to everyone his due; restitution of goods unlawfully detained from the right owners thereof; giving and lending freely, according to our abilities, and the necessities of others; moderation of our judgments, wills, and affections concerning worldly goods; a provident care and study to get, keep, use, and dispose these things which are necessary and convenient for the sustentation of our nature, and suitable to our condition; a lawful calling, and diligence in it; frugality; avoiding unnecessary lawsuits and suretyship, or other like engagements; and an endeavor, by all just and lawful means, to procure, preserve, and further the wealth and outward estate of others, as well as our own."

Let's let that last line sink in: "By all just and lawful means, procure, preserve, and further the wealth and outward estate of others, as well as your own." It is an injustice that people go hungry in the world. It is an injustice that people work themselves to the bone and are not sufficiently paid for their labor. It is an injustice that those at the top reap profits like never before while those at the bottom slave away and get nothing.

I'm not about to echo Karl Marx's sentiments because, let's face it, he was a lunatic and caused more damage than good. However, I'm trying to illustrate that in a world of such injustice, what are Christians doing to differentiate themselves from this world? Are we a blessing? Are we empowering? Are we helping people get back on their feet? Or are we just serving our own selfish, godless ends and sanctifying the whole process?

I'm not rich, and I have many financial obligations that are challenging to keep up with. Yet, Laura and I have never had tight fists when it comes to our resources. When there's an opportunity for us to bless others, we do it. It comes down to understanding that even though I am not a rich man, I've already got God, and that's more than enough for me. As one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies goes, "When all you've got is nothing, there's a lot to go around." I may not have much to give, but of what I have, I give freely. This is the policy of Christians, and any Christian who cannot do this is no follower of Christ.

Returning to the Heidelberg Catechism, let's ponder what God requires in this commandment—promoting the advantage of my neighbor in every instance possible, dealing with him as I desire to be dealt with by others. Additionally, it urges that I faithfully labor so that I may be able to relieve the needy. 

Mull over that statement: "Relieve the needy."

Christians, we must be a relief. Don't just perceive this command as a directive to refrain from stealing. Embrace it as an injunction to be a source of relief in the world. Holding on when you should be letting go, when you should be giving freely, is denying relief. That's denying Christ, and it is a sin.

 To conclude, let me reflect on a poignant moment from the musical Les Misérables, based on Victor Hugo's classic novel. Jean Valjean, out on parole, finds shelter in a bishop's home. The wealth within the house becomes a massive temptation, leading him to steal some of the bishop's possessions. The police quickly apprehend him and return him to the bishop. Presented with an opportunity to enforce justice, the bishop insists to the police that these stolen items were, in fact, gifts. Furthermore, he hands the most valuable gifts, the candlesticks, to Jean Valjean. 

This act is one of grace, a beautiful portrayal of God's unmerited favor—being blessed when it is not deserved. This is why we give. Because we recognize that we've obtained more than we could ever ask, want, or imagine through Christ. Regardless of my worldly possessions, I am rich beyond measure.

Maybe I don't have much money, the nicest car, or the latest clothes. I may be financially behind others in my life and underperforming. But I have Christ, and that means I have riches more abundantly than I could ask or think. What more could I ask for?

It's not a coincidence that our Savior is hung between two thieves. One bitterly holds on to worldly possessions to the end. The other thief, faced with the King of Kings, begs, "Lord, have mercy on me. I have stolen at someone else's unwilling expense." 

"Today, you will be with me in paradise," Jesus replies in Luke twenty-three. I am convinced that had the thief lived, his life would have transitioned from taking to giving. I am sure he would have opened his hands at every opportunity.

At the end of the musical, to my recollection, instead of stealing bread, Jean Valjean finds himself giving away bread. This is what grace does. This is the way of Christ. It's time for Christians to walk in it again, condemning a world that is unjust regarding money and being the justice in that world with our open hands and open hearts.

-RJ