Making Room

It’s yard sale season where I live. Every year, we rifle through our belongings and bemoan that our excess stuff has exceeded our storage capacity. We drag out the jeans that haven’t fit since college, the extra tools and garden implements and that stack of books we have been meaning to read for months; arrange it all on tables and invite others to store it at their houses after paying us a nominal finders’ fee. The goal is less about making money than it is about making room.  

Invested? Or wasted? 

Jesus told a story about a man who gave his employees money to manage for him and then took off on a long trip. He gave the first man five talents, which would be over $100,000 in today’s money. The second, he gave two, or about $60,000, and the third, he gave one, or about $28,000. These were significant amounts. 

When the man returned, he called the men in to account for their investments. The first and second had done well. They had invested the money and doubled its value. The third man, however, had done nothing. When called before the boss, he handed him the talent back, wrapped in a muddy cloth. “Here. It’s all here. I didn’t want you to be mad if I lost it, so I kept it safe, buried in my backyard.”

The employer was pleased with the first two men, but he turned in anger on the third. He took the money from him and gave it to the first, and fired the third man. You see, he didn’t hand out the funds so they could be kept safe. He gave them money to invest.  

I don’t think the third guy misunderstood the assignment. But he didn’t carry through. He was so afraid of losing the gift that he let it languish. Maybe he was looking for just the right investment opportunity. But he ran out of time. He didn’t even put it in an account to draw a paltry amount of interest. Inflation being what it is, the gift had lost value by the time the employer returned. Instead of making room for the employer’s investment, he hid it from sight and forgot about it. 

It’s a scary story.

I don’t know about you, but this story scares me. God has blessed me, both materially and otherwise. And I know that I will have to give an account of what I have done with those blessings.

I read this parable at the beginning of this year and was convicted. I’m not one to play it safe, but I am one to procrastinate, to think I have all the time in the world. I spend time on inconsequential pursuits instead of making room for God’s gifts to flourish. 

A Count making room

In the early 1700’s, Protestant Christians were ignoring the Great Commission. Completely. There were few Protestant missionaries, and those were representatives of governments, not individual churches. They ignored the last words of Jesus to take the gospel to the world.

Nicolas Von Zinzendorf was born into this culture. Though his father died when he was only a few weeks old, he grew up with wealth and power and devout faith. His career path seemed established even before he was born. 

But when he was 22 years old, he embarked on a tour of Europe like most noblemen of his day. It was the capstone of his education. He was accepted at the courts of great houses of Europe as a powerful Count in his own right.

Behold the Man

But while in Dusseldorf, Germany, he had a life-changing encounter with God. In an art gallery, he saw a canvas painted by Dominico Feti titled Ecce Homo, or in English, Behold the Man. It’s a haunting work. It shows Jesus in the midst of His trial. The scarlet robe hangs loosely around His bare shoulder; thorns crown his head; a reed scepter in his hand. His anguished eyes stare vacantly at the viewer. His suffering permeates the image. There is an inscription that reads: Ego pro te haee pasus sum. Tu vero quid fecisti pro me. Translated, it reads This have I suffered for you; now what will you do for me?

The painting captivated the young nobleman.  He stood for hours looking at it and pondering the challenge. And he knew that Christ wanted more of him than just piety. He wanted all of him. Nicolas said “yes”. He determined that nothing Christ asked of him would be too great.

Making room for refugees. 

He completed his tour and returned home to take his place among his fellow noblemen, but he was determined to live for Christ. It wasn’t long before he learned of a group of religious refugees who were fleeing persecution because of their faith. And he agreed to allow them to live on his ancestral lands and build what became the first Moravian community of Herrnhut.

He continued his work at the royal court, but one day met a man who had been born into slavery in St. Thomas. The man had become a believer and begged for others to come share the gospel with his people. Nicholas took the man’s cause to the Moravians, and two of them determined to answer the call. They were so committed to their mission they planned to sell themselves into slavery. When this idea was vetoed by the plantation supervisors, they determined to support themselves as carpenters. 

Making room in simplicity

They were but the first of thousands of Moravian missionaries, both men and women, to go to places all over the globe. They devoted their whole communities to missions, choosing to live simple lives and share possessions and responsibilities in order to devote more resources to missions.  

They built communities around the world, and their model of treating people with respect and equality contributed to the end of the slave trade in the British Empire. The work was costly. Twenty-two of the first twenty-nine missionaries to St. Thomas died, victims of tropical diseases unknown in Germany. 

Nicolas’s critics condemned him for sending missionaries to their deaths while he stayed home and safe. So Nicolas planned a trip to St. Thomas. He was so sure he would die that he updated his will and gave his “last sermon” before departing for St. Thomas. He made room even for death in his obedience. 

Counts can’t be pastors, can they?

To the consternation of many of his peers, Nicolas went on to become an ordained Lutheran minister and Moravian bishop. He was a noblemen, and the social norms of his time prevented a nobleman from studying theology.

By the time of his death in 1760, Nicolas von Zinzendorf and the Moravian refugees had taken the gospel to millions. And it all began with a young man who asked himself the hard questions and began making room for God’s gifts in his life. 

Misjudging the Giver

Thinking back to the yard sale I mentioned at the beginning, have you ever made the mistake of putting a gift from a friend in the donation bin, only to have them discover it at your yard sale? In the process of making room, we might injure a relationship. 

That’s embarrassing. But it’s not nearly as embarrassing as it would be to stand before God and tell Him you neglected to even unwrap the gifts He gave you.  

I don’t believe the employer was angry because the employee cost him money. I think he would have been satisfied if the man made a bad investment and lost the entire amount. But instead, the man hid the gift and blamed his master for his own poor decision. 

I have made bad choices and blamed God for the consequences. He has always given me grace and allowed me to start again. But I’m tired of acting like a spiritual toddler. I want my choices to be His choices for me. 

God gives each of us a certain number of days to live and serve Him. And He equips us for our assigned tasks. Nicolas expended countless resources in his determination to obey God. I don’t have the wealth or influence he had. But I want to live well so I can die well. I can think of no better epitaph than “she made room for God.”