And he spoke a parable to them, saying, The land of a certain rich man brought forth abundantly.
A man in the crowd had just asked Jesus to make his brother divide a family inheritance. Instead of settling the dispute, the Lord warned the crowd about covetousness. The story He tells opens with a good harvest, not a crime. So what is the danger in success?
One writer explains what Jesus refused to do with the appeal, and what He did with it instead.
Someone had just appealed to the Saviour about a property dispute. He declined to interfere, since the matter was outside His mission at that time. He had come from heaven, not to adjust the world's wrongs, but to seek men's souls in love. His hand will make the crooked straight, but in another era. For this He must return from His present place on high. But meanwhile, He never missed a chance to deal with men's consciences about things unseen and eternal. So He used the appeal as an occasion to warn His hearers against being absorbed in this world's affairs.
A good harvest is not evil. But one writer will not call it safe either.
Now, is the plentiful bringing forth of the ground evil? No. There is nothing evil in a good harvest. Plenty is a mercy; but I will tell you what is in it — not evil, but danger. And so it proved with the man in the parable. He began to turn it to the account of his earthly mind, instead of to the account of the Lord who owns the soil. If people are in a thriving way of life, it is very right, I say, to use their hands and skill. And it is a mercy if the crop is plentiful. But there is danger in it.
As the parable goes on, the man thinks "within himself." One writer makes that phrase the hinge of the story. It shows where he took his counsel.
"The land of a rich man produced plentifully." What sin is there in being a successful farmer or merchant? If God blesses a man's labour, should he not rejoice? Truly so; but notice the moral progress of a covetous heart. "He thought within himself." He did not think in the presence of God. He did not think under the mighty influences of the eternal world. No — "he thought within himself," within the narrow compass of his selfish heart. Such was his range; and therefore we need not be surprised at his practical conclusion.
His question was where to put the surplus. One writer points to the answer standing at his door.
All his barns were crammed to the roof. His storehouses were filled to bursting. He did not know where to put the incoming goods with which God had so richly blessed him. Were there no poor around him he might help? Was there no Lazarus at his door? Were there no needy ones on every hand? Ah, my friends, these things did not disturb him, for the man lived only for himself. And have you not done the same, friend, until now? The centre and pivot around which he circled was self.
By ordinary standards this man does nothing scandalous. The charge against him lies somewhere else.
Here was systematic selfishness. This was not how faith reckons. Faith shows itself in self-sacrifice under suffering, or in active and generous devotion. There was no eye on any future outside this world. All was in the present life. By human judgment, the rich fool did not make a bad use of what he had. He was not immoral. But his action went no further than gratifying his desire for ever-growing abundance.
If decent, prosperous people are in danger, the remedy cannot be owning less. One writer names what it is.
I am sure of this: the life of faith and hope is the only deliverance from worldliness... A man may be blameless and harmless, and yet he is a worldly man if he is not nourishing the life of faith and hope. Go and get lessons from the ravens and the lilies... If I am not trusting in God and waiting for glory, the Lord exposes me here as having a worldly mind... Put the belt around your waist and the lamp of hope in your hand. Then you will be delivered from worldliness — not waiting for bigger barns, but for the Lord.
- Occasion. A question about an inheritance exposed a covetous heart. Jesus answered the heart, not the lawsuit.
- Gift. A full harvest is God's mercy, not the man's sin. The danger sits inside the blessing.
- Range. He thought within himself — the fault begins the moment God is left out of the planning.
- Reach. Full barns and needy neighbours stood side by side, and he saw only the barns.
- Result. Blameless by human judgment, he still had no eye on any future beyond this world. Only faith and hope, waiting for the Lord, break that grip.
And he reasoned within himself saying, What shall I do? for I have not [a place] where I shall lay up my fruits.
A full harvest leaves the rich man with one practical question: where to put the extra. He takes it to the only adviser he trusts — himself, and the parable turns on what that private conference leaves out.
His problem was not sin — a good crop is a good thing. What decides the story is the room where he does his thinking. The older translation quoted below reads that he thought "within himself."
"The land of a rich man produced plentifully." What sin is there in being a successful farmer or merchant? If God blesses a man's labour, should he not rejoice? Truly so; but notice the moral progress of a covetous heart. "He thought within himself." He did not think in the presence of God; he did not think under the mighty influences of the eternal world. No; "he thought within himself" — within the narrow compass of his selfish heart. Such was his range; and so we need not be surprised at his practical conclusion.
His own question had an obvious solution outside his gate, and it never crossed his mind.
He thought within himself and said, "What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?" All his barns were crammed to the roof. His storehouses were filled to bursting. He did not know where to put the incoming goods, with which God had so richly blessed him. Were there no poor around him to whom he might minister? Was there no Lazarus at his door? Were there no needy ones on every hand? Ah, my friends, these things did not disturb him, for the man lived only for himself.
Nothing in his plan would trouble his neighbours. The fault lies in what his planning left out.
This was systematic selfishness, not the reckoning of faith — not faith's self-sacrifice in suffering, and not its active and generous devotion. There was no eye upon the future outside this world. All was in the present life. By human judgment, the rich fool did not misuse what he had. He was not immoral. But his action went no further than satisfying his desire for more and more abundance.
The deliberation itself is the warning. A man can settle his whole future without ever consulting the One who gave him the harvest.
The heart of man far from God thinks to direct his own steps, and decides what he will do, without thinking of the will of God, or even of God at all. What he plans may not even be evil. It may not wound the conscience or make it uneasy. But God is completely forgotten. The man acts without God, as though God had withdrawn and left the earth to man, and as though His will counted for nothing. As far as religion goes, such a man lives in atheism in the practical things of everyday life.
The danger is not in owning much. It is in what owning much does to the ear and the heart.
Prosperity often deafens the ear against God. "I spoke to you in your prosperity, but you said, I will not listen" (Jeremiah 22:21). Soft pleasures harden the heart. Prosperity has its honey, and also its sting. Anxious care is the evil spirit that haunts the rich man; when his chests are full of money, his heart is full of care. Sunshine is pleasant, but sometimes it scorches. The spreading of a full table may be the spreading of a snare.
There was another place to put the surplus, and it is open to people of every income.
No one can be rich before God without what men short-sightedly call making themselves poor: using what we have for others, not for ourselves. Only such are rich toward God, whether their means are great or small. If their means are small, they are still large enough to think of others in love and to provide for needs greater than their own. If their means are great, their responsibilities are so much the greater. But in every case the gathering up is not for self, but for the service of grace; and this can only be by bringing God into the matter.
- The gift — the crop came from God's hand. Success in business or farming is no sin; the parable turns on what the man does next.
- The conference — he thought "within himself," in the narrow space of his own heart. A decision made in that room can only come out selfish.
- The room — his barns had no space, but his plans had no space either: no room for God, no room for the poor at his door.
- The atheism — to settle your future without asking God's will is practical atheism, even when the plan looks respectable and moral.
- The alternative — gather not for self but for the service of grace. That road is open to small means as well as great.
And he said, This will I do I will take away my granaries and build greater, and there I will lay up all my produce and my good things;
A harvest too big for the barns that hold it forces a decision, and this man makes his. The plan is sensible business — and it has no room in it for God or for anyone else.
Nothing in the building project would have raised an eyebrow among the neighbours. One writer separates the man's business sense from his folly.
To rebuild his barns, so as to keep all the fruits given to him by the bounty of God, was just ordinary prudence. To lay it all up for himself, and to neglect all the divine riches for the soul, was the substance of his folly.
Before he says anything, he works it out alone in his own head. Where a man does his thinking shapes what he decides.
"He thought within himself." He did not think in the presence of God. He did not think under the mighty influences of the eternal world. No; "he thought within himself" — within the narrow compass of his selfish heart. That was his range; and so we need not be surprised at his practical conclusion. "What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?" What! Was there no way of using his resources with a view to God's future? Sadly, no.
Thought, word and deed line up. And the word "all" is the giveaway: everything goes into one place, and that place is a building he puts up himself.
Here we have what he thought, what he said, and what he did — and there is a sad consistency between his thoughts, his words, and his acts. "There," in my self-built storehouse, "will I store all." What a miserable treasure-house to hold the "all" of an immortal soul! God was not an item in the list. God was neither his treasury nor his treasure… A worldly man's provision is only "for many years." Make the best of it: it cannot go beyond that narrow limit.
A surplus is also an opportunity. There is another way to solve a storage problem, and it never crosses his mind.
All his barns were crammed to the roof. His storehouses were filled to bursting. He did not know where to put the incoming goods, with which God had so richly blessed him. What a strange thing, you say. Were there no poor around him to whom he might minister? Was there no Lazarus at his door? Were there no needy people on every hand? None of this disturbed him. The man lived only for himself… Self was the centre and pivot he circled around.
A later parable in Luke puts the opposite choice beside this one.
This conduct stands in sharp contrast with what the Lord brings forward later, in Luke 16. There the master commended the steward, not for his wrongdoing but for his wisdom. He gave up present interests, his master's goods, in order to secure the future. The rich landowner here does the opposite. He keeps pulling down his barns and building greater ones, to better secure all his fruits and increase his goods. His one and only thought was for this present life, which he assumed would go on unchanged. The steward watched for the reversal that was at hand, and acted accordingly. May we feel ourselves stewards of what men would call our own, and act with no less prudence!
The parable ends with the phrase that names what this man lacked. It is not a rule about how much you may own.
You cannot be rich before God without what men short-sightedly call impoverishing yourself. It means using what we have, not for ourselves, but for others. Only such people are rich toward God, whether their means are great or small. If their means are small, they are still large enough to let them think of others in love and meet needs greater than their own. If their means are great, their responsibilities are so much the greater. In every case the gathering up is not for self but for the service of grace, and that can only happen by bringing God into the matter.
- Given — The harvest came from God's bounty; the man's barns were full of goods God was giving him. The gift is never in question. What he does with it is.
- Guarded — His answer to abundance is a bigger container. Rebuilding was ordinary prudence; storing it all for himself was the folly.
- Grasped — "All my fruits and my goods" go into a self-built storehouse. God is not an item in the list — neither his treasury nor his treasure.
- Gone — His provision reaches "many years" and no further. The steward of Luke 16 traded present interests for the future; this man does the reverse.
- Given away — To be rich toward God is to use what you have for others, whether your means are great or small. Small means still leave room to meet needs greater than your own.
and I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much good things laid by for many years; repose thyself, eat, drink, be merry.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But God said to him, Fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee; and whose shall be what thou hast prepared?
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Thus is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.
The Lord ends the story of the rich farmer with a verdict on a whole way of living, and He aims it at anyone, not just the wealthy. Two phrases carry the weight: laying up treasure "for himself," and being "rich toward God."
The verdict points back to covetousness. That word covers far more ground than most people assume, and one writer traces how respectable it looks:
Covetousness involves no dishonesty. It is not even hard or sharp dealing. It is no more than the desire for more. That desire is the very spring of modern effort. It is the motive of bettering yourself that is held up to everyone, from the mechanic to the millionaire. So the creature becomes the object, not God, and that is why covetousness is called idolatry. It is man looking down, not up in dependence on God.
The same trap catches those who have nothing, which is why the warning is not only for the rich:
Remember this: riches are a snare to the rich man. But to be jealous of a rich man because of his riches is as bad or worse in the poor man. It just shows that he would have them too if he could. It is not a question about riches. The Lord wants to get souls into heaven, and riches will not take them there. That can only happen by being rich toward God.
The two halves of the verse are opposites, and the hinge is the word "himself." Darby locates the root of the failure there:
The whole question is about Christ. If Christ has His place in our hearts, the things of this world stop being temptations to us. The man who is rich toward God has no desire for other riches. But the man who lays up treasure for himself is not rich toward God, because self is at the bottom.
One writer separates the man's prudence from his folly: "Rebuilding his barns to keep all the fruit God's goodness had given him was just ordinary prudence. To lay it all up for himself, and to neglect all the divine riches for the soul, was the substance of his folly" (F. B. Hole).
The man built barns for a soul. That is the mismatch the parable exposes:
He said he would store it all in his own self-built storehouse. What a miserable treasure-house to hold the "all" of an immortal soul! God was not an item in the catalogue. God was neither his treasury nor his treasure.
And so the account settles the wrong way: "Suddenly his life was required of him, and the wealthy man of earth entered the other world to be poor for eternity" (C E Stuart).
The phrase is not vague piety. It has a shape, and it costs something that looks like loss:
You cannot be rich before God without what men short-sightedly count as making yourself poor. It means using what we have for others, not for ourselves. Only such are rich toward God, whether their means are great or small. If their means are small, they are still large enough to let them think of others in love and provide for needs greater than their own. If their means are great, their responsibilities are so much the greater.
Yet the Lord does not measure by the size of the gift, and having nothing to give does not shut you out:
It is not a question of the amount. The Lord never measures by what I have given, but by what I have left after I have given. On the other hand, you might have nothing to give and yet be rich toward God. You cling to Him, you live for Him, and in relation to Him. That is really what it is.
One writer maps the whole passage as three cures: "Fear, covetousness, and care are three terrible foxes that spoil the grapes of God's harvest. Each one has its answer: the fear of man, by the fear of God; covetousness, by being rich toward God; and care, by the care of God" (W. T. P. Wolston).
Given away, the treasure is not lost. It moves to heaven, and the heart follows it there:
You meet a child of God who is weary and thirsty; you give him simply a cup of cold water in Christ's name. That act becomes a treasure in heaven... The only way to have your minds set on things above is simply to have your treasure in heaven. We may agree with that and say Christ is our treasure. If Christ is my treasure, my thoughts will be with Him.
- Root — Covetousness is the desire for more. It needs no dishonesty, and jealousy of the rich is the same sin in a poorer form.
- Self — "For himself" is the fatal word; when self is at the bottom, God drops out of the catalogue.
- Size — A barn is a miserable storehouse for an immortal soul, and the man who fills one enters eternity poor.
- Shape — Being rich toward God means using what you have for others, whether your means are large or small. The Lord measures what you keep back, not what you give.
- Cure — Being rich toward God cures covetousness, and the heart follows the treasure wherever it goes.