if i were a rich man...

A few weeks ago, when Obama and McCain spoke at Saddleback Church, they were asked about increased taxation for those who were "rich." Of course, the first issue to be settled was how much it takes to be considered rich. Obama mentioned a yearly income of $150,000 as a defining marker (I think he has since upped the amount to $250,000), and McCain jokingly tossed out $5 million as his figure, saying he didn't want to base tax increases simply on personal income.

Political rhetoric, yeah. But I was waiting for the real answer, the answer that most all of us think of when considering what qualifies someone as being rich. It's simple: rich is the guy who has more than me. Because no matter how much I make, I'm just getting by. Therefore, it's the person making more than me who is rich. Told you it's simple.

But what if you and I compare ourselves with another group? Not with those in the high rent districts, but with those living in the rest of the world. If I consider my income and possessions alongside the majority of people on this earth, I quickly realize that I'm the one who is wealthy. I'm the rich person. And so are you. I have scandalously more than most will dare dream of. Ever. And so do you. I've been frivolous with more than most will ever see. And likely, so have you.

But what's that mean in the scope of life's bigger picture? Probably a lot, but for now, at least this: when Jesus talks about riches and rich people, and the issues they face in relation to his kingdom, he's talking about me. To me. And to you. When he says that a camel would have an easier time squeezing through a needle's eye than a rich man making it to heaven, I know that I qualify as that rich man. I don't want to, but I do. Ouch.

Makes me think again about what I have and what I do with it. After all, if it all comes from God, belongs to God, and is to be used for God, it's never mine to begin with. I'm simply supposed to manage it well. Use it wisely. And make the most of it. They say that with great blessing comes great responsibility. You and I are greatly blessed. If you'd go with me to the slums of Nairobi, the streets of India, the hillsides of southeast Asia, or the squalor of Mexico City you'd see it. You'd understand. Maybe you have and you do. I have, and I don't like what I see. Around me. And within me. But I'm rich, and I'm called to figure out what to do about it.

And so are you.