The Gluttony of Man and the Grace of God

My dear friends, it seems to me that the world is much like a great house built on shifting sand. A mighty edifice, indeed, with gilded columns and high towers, but built upon the very dust and decay of man's fallen soul. And who, pray tell, are the masters of this house? Are they not those whom the world calls great, those who sit in high places and command the obedience of nations? They are the ruling elite, and they have committed a great transgression.

They look upon this world, this beautiful, broken world, not as a garden to be tended, but as a larder to be plundered. With every breath they draw, they gorge themselves on the bounty of God's creation, while the bellies of the poor cry out in want. They speak of progress, of building a better world, but all the while, they are building monuments to their own greed. They hoard the bread that could feed the hungry and store up the garments that could clothe the naked. Their tables groan under the weight of their feasts, while their hard-working brothers and sisters, those who toil in the fields and sweat in the factories, do so with empty hands. Oh, how the Lord sees this! For the cries of the poor reach His ear with a clarity that no earthly noise can drown out.

Verily, hunger could be wiped from the face of this earth in a flash, if only man would live as the Lord intended! But alas, the Fall has not been a shallow wound; it has gone deep, poisoning our very souls. It has corrupted our hearts and turned our love for God into a lust for power. It has made us look upon our fellow man not as a child of the Creator, but as an obstacle or a tool. This is the great tragedy, the great transgression: that the soul which was made for God's glory now seeks only its own.

Consider the pride of these mighty ones, the captains of industry and the princes of government. They walk with their heads held high, as if their wealth were a sign of divine favor, and not a fleeting shadow. They build their empires on the backs of the weary and fill their coffers with the sweat of the honest laborer. But what is this worldly success? It is a fleeting vapor, a puff of smoke on a winter's day. It is a crown of weeds, a scepter of straw. For when the King of Kings comes, their fine robes shall be but rags, and their golden thrones shall be as dust. Oh, do not envy them, for their glory is but a lie!

The Fall, my friends, has sunk its teeth into the very marrow of our bones. It is not merely the sins we commit with our hands, but the corruption of the heart that leads us to them. It is the deep-seated pride that makes a man believe he is a god, and his will is the law. It is the wicked desire to consume, to take, to dominate, that prevents us from sharing the very blessings God has given us in abundance. This is the serpent's whisper in our ear, the lie that tells us we must possess all, lest we be nothing. And yet, this is the very path to ruin!

Therefore, I say to you, cast your eyes not upon the shimmering falsehoods of this fallen world, but upon the sure and certain hope that awaits the meek. The kingdoms of this earth shall fall, their monuments shall be shattered, and the names of the mighty shall be blotted out. But you, who endure, whose trust is in the Lord and not in the fleeting riches of man, you shall inherit a kingdom not built by human hands. A glory that is not a blink, but an eternal day. Your suffering is seen, your labor is known, and your reward is not promised, but assured! For in the final reckoning, as it is written, the meek shall inherit the earth.

Amen.