I have been listening to my son, Tyson’s music lately. He is a song writer, guitarist, harmonica player, and worship leader, all of which are useful in his position as a Bible camp director. One particular set of lyrics has recently grabbed my attention. The song is “My Treasury.”
My Treasury
Words and music by Tyson Guthrie (March 2004)
Her sister cooked. Her brother laughed.
She broke her little jar of glass;
Poured a year’s pay on a pair of dirty feet.
And as the oil mixed with dirt and clay
She let her hair down to wipe the mud away.
It was the first time they’d seen Judas weep
CHORUS:
What’s yours is yours; what’s mine is mine.
If it could stay that way that’d be just fine.
That’s the sound of thieves breaking in.
I hold on what’s been given me,
Like alabaster jars in my treasury,
And the moths and rust they wear my treasure thin.
I thought one time I had a friend;
I ain’t never seen that man again.
He left without saying goodbye-
Had a top hat and a mustache;
He paid me every penny in cash.
And he’d smile and wink his beady little eye.
CHORUS:
What’s yours is yours; what’s mine is mine.
If it could stay that way that’d be just fine.
That’s the sound of thieves breaking in.
I hold on what’s been given me,
Like alabaster jars in my treasury,
And the moths and rust they wear my treasure thin.
Well we scrape and hoard and rake it in.
We fill our coffers to the brim;
Call it things like “Good Stewardship.”
And the bride of Christ is growing fat!
We fill her up with this and that,
And in a dim, dark mirror she’s looking pretty fit.
CHORUS:
What’s yours is yours; what’s mine is mine.
If it could stay that way that’d be just fine.
That’s the sound of thieves breaking in.
I hold on what’s been given me,
Like alabaster jars in my treasury,
And the moths and rust they wear my treasure thin.
One Sunday in June I sat in a small, sweltering mud and dung building packed with so many people that some had to sit on benches outside. All rejoiced and praised God with their whole hearts. They had also come prepared to give that morning, their offerings including various kinds of produce.
One month later I sat in an enormous, elaborately equipped sanctuary in a large U. S. city. Everything about the music and the rest of the service was professionally planned and perfectly executed. The church contained several restaurants and coffee shops, a 2-story McDonalds style “playland” for toddlers; an aquarium built into the wall of one long hallway; and a three-story youth building with basketball courts, stadium seating theater, and every video game set-up you could think of. I’m pretty sure no onions or mangoes showed up in the offering plate at this church, but judging from the size of the facility, one week’s offering could have easily built a large enough structure to hold the first congregation, with enough left over to feed its starving members for an entire year! Thinking about it actually made me ill, and sent me seeking out the words to Tyson’s song.
Now It is true that some of the lyrics of “My Treasury” apply to the church. However, I am personally challenged by them as well.
Jesus said: "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19-21
Do I hoard my treasures? Do I regard what I have received from God as my own? Have I allowed my integrity and joy to be stolen? Is my treasury full of rusty vials, weighing down a sadly misplaced heart? Where, in truth, does my treasure lie? These are the questions I have been asking myself recently.
Father, search my heart. Forgive me for holding on to things that can never satisfy. Let my treasure be simply, completely You. Amen.
How Sweet all at once it was for me
to be rid of those fruitless joys
which I had once
feared to lose!
You drove them from me,
you who are the true,
the sovereign joy.
You drove them from me and took their place,
you who are sweeter than all pleasure...
O Lord my God, my Light, my Wealth,
and my Salvation.
Augustine
Confessions, IX, I.
