A sermon preached at Covenant Presbyterian Church of Fort Smith, Arkansas on November 16, 2025.
And he said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you. Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Luke 12:22–34).[1]
In the middle of Jesus’ teaching on the weighty matters of confessing Christ, the unpardonable sin, and the promised provision of the Holy Spirit, a man in the crowd had the audacity to shout out, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me” (Luke 12:13). Turns out, you’re not the only one whose mind wanders when listening to a sermon. But thankfully you don’t blurt out what’s on your mind. This man did, because apparently the family estate is what mattered most in his mind.
To the interrupting inheritance-seeker, Jesus responded rhetorically, neither entertaining the man’s request nor accepting responsibility for his plight, but he did assess the root cause of his request, saying, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15). Covetousness had blinded the man’s judgment, as it so easily blinds us. We must then take care, beware of the myriad manifestations of that most sinister of sins. But in considering covetousness, don’t miss the “why” of Jesus’ caution: “one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” The implication is life does consist in something, something more than all our stuff.
To emphasize his point, Jesus told a parable of a man who made wealth-building his priority, that he might relax in his abundance, eating, drinking, and merry-making.[2] But instead, he died, that very night, leaving a faithless legacy of full barns. The parable is the tragic story of a life consisting in the abundance of possessions. It’s a warning but also a call for personal assessment: What is the story of your life telling? If you were to die this very night, would you be remembered more for your worldly wealth or the eternal wealth of Christ’s kingdom? What Scripture would be read at your funeral: “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked . . . [whose] delight is in the law of the LORD . . .” (Ps. 1:1-2), or “‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’” (Luke 12:20)? What’s the story of your life telling?
Of course, it’s possible that full barns are not your problem. Maybe the shed out back is empty. But in our passage today, Jesus shows covetousness cuts both ways. Sometimes our story is more about worry than wealth. Ralph Davis says that in the transition from the Parable of the Rich Fool to our passage today, Jesus shows us the same sin from the perspective of two sinners: “The one who worries over bigger barns and the one who worries over skimpy pantries. One man is preoccupied over the abundance he has, another over the deficiency he fears.”[3] How easy it is to cast stones at the rich fool in his death, while we worry about how we will live.
But Jesus is teaching us something more than worrying over food, shelter, and clothing. He’s teaching us to look to the root cause of our anxiety and what it tells us about what we believe. Think about it: Why do you worry? Why are you anxious?
Why are you anxious?
The presumption is we have been, are, or will be anxious at some point, which Jesus addresses not by asking why but answering why we must not be, providing three examples for us to consider: birds, lifespan, and wildflowers. We must not be anxious, Jesus says, first, because God feeds the ravens, who neither sow nor reap nor store, but eat. They are daily dependent upon God for their food. If you’re worried, go outside and watch the birds, meditating on this: “Of how much more value are you than the birds!” (12:24).
Second, we must not be anxious, Jesus says, because it adds nothing. Jesus asks, “which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (12:25). Want to live a long and healthy life? Worry isn’t the answer. And yet, how many of us worry about tomorrow? Referring to the parallel passage in the Gospel of Matthew, Wendell Berry observes,
None of us knows the future. Fairly predictably, we are going to be surprised by it. This is why “Take . . . no thought for the morrow . . .” is such excellent advice. Taking thought of the morrow is, fairly predictably, a waste of time.
I have noticed, for example, that most of the bad possibilities I have worried about have never happened. . . . Also by taking thought for the morrow we repeatedly burden today with undoing the damage and waste of false expectations—and so delaying our confrontation with the actuality that today has brought.”[4]
Worrying adds nothing to life or lifespan but can certainly take away.
Third, Jesus says, consider the lilies whose lifespan is brief but their beauty incomparable. Even the wardrobe of Israel’s wealthiest king could not match the elegant splendor of a meadow of wildflowers. As God clothes the fields, Jesus says, “how much more will he clothe you”? (Luke 12:27-28). In 2011, on one of the most profitable shopping days, outdoor clothing company Patagonia took out a full-page ad in The New York Times showing their best-selling jacket with a banner that read: “Don’t Buy This Jacket,” stating, “It’s time for us as a company to address the issue of consumerism and do it head on.”[5] The ad resulted in record sales. Turns out, even when encouraged to reduce our consumption, we want more. Most of us don’t worry whether we will be clothed today, but rather how many Sundays it’s been since we wore this last. In our affluence, we have taken worrying about what we will wear to a whole new level, and yet, we still worry, forgetting the incomparable brilliance of a meadow of wildflowers, which lasts but a moment. Of how much more value are you than the flowers?
One commentator assesses, “Few things are as discouraging to our spirit, or as destructive to our contentment, or as detrimental to our witness as the anxious worries of a troubled heart.”[6] Why then do we do it? Because, contra the sage’s counsel, we do not truly trust the Lord with all our heart but rather lean on our own understanding.[7] While what we need God gives, we take God’s part seemingly upon ourselves, a folly that tells more about what we believe than our creeds and confessions. Ignoring the testimony of God’s natural revelation, we act as if being anxious is our part to play.
I had a man tell me one time that his wife had great anxiety singing in their church choir Christmas musical. And so, he said, he asked God to give him her anxiety, and God “answered his prayer,” giving her peace and him great anxiety the rest of the night. I didn’t want to insult the guy, but I thought, first, that’s just weird, and second, he who knows no sin will not grant upon request what he hates. It wasn’t that man’s responsibility to carry his wife’s burden, and it’s not your responsibility either. Rather, as the apostle Peter teaches us, we are to cast all our anxieties on the Lord, because he cares for us. [8] Or, as the robin said to the sparrow,
“I should really like to know,
why these anxious human beings
rush about and worry so.”
Said the sparrow to the robin,
“I think that it must be,
that they have no heavenly Father
such as cares for you and me.”
The ravens scavenge, and the lilies grow by the gracious provision of our heavenly Father, who cares for you and me too.
Where is your faith?
Ultimately, worry and anxiety reveal a lack of faith, which is why Jesus says, “O you of little faith!” (Luke 12:28). Of course, it’s easy to say we trust God, that is, until we lose our job, until our loved one is sick, until our plans collapse, or life doesn’t happen as we expected, as it so often does. Jesus confronts our worry reminding us that our Father knows what we need, but how often do we doubt that he knows as well as we do? How often do we doubt our heavenly Father’s perfect, purposeful sovereignty, worrying over what might happen, as if God isn’t in control, as if he’s let go, as if he has no purpose in what is happening? How often do we doubt our heavenly Father’s precise, personal love, thinking that we must worry over the details of life and leave the big stuff to God, as if we know ourselves and situations better than he, as if his love for us doesn’t include our specific circumstance? How often do we doubt our heavenly Father’s particular, plentiful provision, thinking that worry serves as a guide for God to see precisely what we need? We may not confess our lack of trust in God, but our worry and anxiety tell it, which is why we must confront even the tiniest of worries, even the hint of anxiety, with the gospel (Yes, the gospel!).
Let me explain what I mean: When we worry, when we are anxious, we are saying to ourselves and others, that there are some things that our heavenly Father has not provided for us, his children. It is as if we are saying, “‘God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life’ (John 3:16), but things in this life are a different matter, so you’d better worry with me.” But the apostle Paul tells us, “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:32). In telling us what God gives, Paul starts by telling us what he has done for us in the cross of Christ! In other words, when we are tempted to worry, when we are anxious, we must remember the gospel, looking to Christ crucified and resurrected, looking to his atonement for our sin (even our worry!), looking to his finished work reconciling us to our heavenly Father, looking to his Spirit who dwells within us, looking to the promise of everlasting life. It is the grandeur of this gospel that must conquer our worry and crush our anxiety, because he who gave his only begotten Son, he who adopted us as his own, he who made us heirs with Christ, will indeed graciously give us everything we need.
And when we confront our worry with the gospel, we find that our hearts and minds are not directed by what the world tell us we should fear, or fuss or fret over, but rather the eternal things of God. Jesus explains it this way: “And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you” (Luke 12:29-31). Think of all the ways and things that tempt you to worry. Now . . . let the world worry about them. Seriously. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says that we are “not of the world,” because he chose us “out of the world,” (John 15:18-19), so why would we worry with the world? “If then you have been raised with Christ,” the apostle Paul says, “seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:1-3). Or, to put it another way, seek the kingdom of God.
Through faith in Christ, we are already citizens of the kingdom of God, and life in his kingdom is to be our priority. “All other kingdoms shall sooner or later, decay and pass away,” J.C. Ryle reminds us,
The statesmen who rear them are like men who build houses of cards, or children, who make palaces of sand on the sea shore. The wealth which constitutes their greatness is as liable to melt away as the snow in spring. The kingdom of God is the only kingdom which shall endure for ever. Happy are they who belong to it. Love it, live for it, pray for it, and labour for its increase and prosperity.[9]
And, Jesus said, it is our heavenly Father’s “good pleasure” to give it to us (Luke 12:32).
What is God’s pleasure?
Although on the last day every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,[10] today he rules and reigns in the heart of every believer. Therefore, to seek the kingdom of God, is to make the things of God our life’s priority, to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever. Or, as John Piper puts it, “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.”[11] It is God’s pleasure that we seek him and be pleased in him.
What is one way our pleasure in God is revealed? Jesus answers with hyperbole, saying, “Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys” (Luke 12:33-34). It’s a similar directive given to the rich young man who had faithfully kept the commandments but could not give his wealth away.[12] His stumbling block was his abundance of possessions, leading Jesus to say, “only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven,” and “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God” (Matt. 19:23-24). Why? Because worldly wealth tempts us to find our satisfaction in full barns, or investment accounts, rather than the kingdom of God.
If you wonder what your life’s priority and story is, look to what satisfies the longing of your heart and where it finds rest: “For where your treasure is there will your heart be also” (Luke 12:34). David Gooding says, “Store up your treasure on earth, and it will inevitably pull your heart in the direction of earth. Store it in heaven, and it will pull your heart, and with it your goals, ambitions and longings, toward heaven.”[13] If God is indeed most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him, then let our treasure and God’s pleasure align.
Whether our barns are full or empty, we give him the glory. Whether feast, famine, or fasting, we give him the glory. Whether we live a short or long life, we give him the glory. Whether our wardrobe consists of one or several jackets, we give him the glory. What we need God gives, every day, all the time, for our good and his glory.
[1] Unless referenced otherwise, all Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version
(Wheaton: Crossway Bibles, 2001).
[2] Luke 12:19
[3] Dale Ralph Davis, Luke: The Year of the Lord’s Favor (Fearn: Christian Focus Publications, 2021), 225.
[4] Wendell Berry, “On Being Asked for ‘A Narrative for the Future’”, Wendell Berry: Essays 1993-2017 (New York: The Library of America, 2019), 665.
[5] https://www.patagonia.com/stories/planet/activism/dont-buy-this-jacket-black-friday-and-the-new-york-times/story-18615.html
[6] Philip Graham Ryken, Luke, Vol. 1 (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2009), 671.
[7] Prov. 3:5
[8] 1 Pet. 5:7
[9] J.C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on Luke, Vol. 2 (Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 2012), 60.
[10] Phil. 2:10-11
[11] John Piper, Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist (Colorado Springs: Multnomah Books, 2011).
[12] Matt. 19:16-22
[13] Philip Graham Ryken, Luke, Vol. 1 (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2009), 679.
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