Editor’s note: These are notes drawn from Lucas Kitchen’s sermon on Luke 12:13–34 (The Pines, September 20, 2026). They are not a word-for-word transcript.
When I was finally out on my own, I was so poor it almost felt normal—until a nine-hundred-dollar internet bill and a box of frozen hot dog weenies forced a bigger question: What is my life going to be about?
I had lived with my parents until I was around twenty or twenty-one, then started figuring the world out. For a while I was in a band with some of the Simmons, and that was a safety net because we were in it together. Eventually I quit the band, moved to Tyler, Texas, and started working at a church. I was single, so poverty felt almost okay—it wasn’t really affecting anybody else. But I was so poor. I had something like a part-time intern job—part-time is already halfway, and “intern” somehow manages to be less than that—and it felt like they paid me in beans. Rent took most of it. In college there was always a cafeteria nearby or somebody had ordered a pizza. Suddenly I was on my own, realizing: oh right, you have to pay for food too.
One month I had a video business going and needed internet. I got a nine-hundred-dollar bill because I didn’t realize it was cellular data—this was early on—and I called them saying there had to be a mistake. They offered a nine-hundred-dollar credit. I needed the money back. I needed to eat. Around that time I was at my friend Steve’s house—he was a youth minister in town, and I was there a lot because he’d feed me. That night his wife said they had a huge box of frozen hot dog weenies left from a youth event, and I could just have them. I didn’t cry in front of them, but I went outside and cried. I felt loved. I was that close to the line—too prideful to tell Mom and Dad I needed help, even though they would have helped. I wanted to make it myself.
At that point I had a decision to make. Stick with church and ministry work, or shift toward something that made more money? I chose ministry. Later I learned that if you manage money well, not everybody in ministry is starving—but that took a while. I’m glad for what I chose. What Jesus says in Luke 12 speaks into exactly that kind of decision: What is my life going to be about? Am I going to be focused on this money thing, or something else?
Jesus is teaching, and someone interrupts. Verse 13 says:
Then one from the crowd said to Him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” (Luke 12:13, NKJV)
I love that question. It shows Jesus was approachable enough that people could bring whatever was frustrating them straight to Him. This person is likely in a family conflict about inheritance. You can see both sides. When you have conflict, you go find somebody in charge—a lawyer, a judge, a sheriff. So this guy brings it to Jesus mid-talk and shouts, “Tell my brother.”
He doesn’t say, “We have this conflict, and both sides might have some good points.” He says, “Tell my brother.” And when Jesus gets told what to do, He often doesn’t do it.
But He said to him, “Man, who made Me a judge or an arbitrator over you?” (Luke 12:14, NKJV)
Then He speaks to the man, refuses that trap, and addresses the crowd:
And He said to them, “Take heed and beware of covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses.” (Luke 12:15, NKJV)
What’s the mistake in this man’s thinking? Not bringing things to Jesus—greed. And what’s he potentially trading away? A relationship. This is his brother. Siblings are the ones close enough in age and tied by family that—when things go well—you walk with them your whole life. If he presses his case hard, he may lose that relationship. I think Jesus sees all of that.
Covetousness is so insidious because it often strikes with the people we’re closest to—family, neighborhood, workplace—the ones we share resources with. To covet something, that thing has to belong to someone else. By nature, covetousness always involves at least some kind of relationship.
So what’s the bottom line? Make it right. And if that means dropping the fight, it may be worth it. The relationship matters more than the thing. In our house we sometimes say it this way: people are more important.
Then He spoke a parable to them, saying: “The ground of a certain rich man yielded plentifully. And he thought within himself, saying, ‘What shall I do, since I have no room to store my crops?’ So he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build greater, and there I will store all my crops and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years; take your ease; eat, drink, and be merry.” ’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul will be required of you; then whose will those things be which you have provided?’ So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.” (Luke 12:16–21, NKJV)
Wouldn’t that be a cool problem—crops so plentiful you run out of room? His plan is bigger barns, stockpile everything, then coast: eat, drink, and be merry. God calls him a fool. That night his soul is required. Then whose will all that stuff be?
The man is focused on possessions. He’s planning his future on earthly things. Jesus isn’t saying “don’t have a plan”—Proverbs is full of planning. He’s saying that apart from practical plans, we need to understand we are not in control. This man placed his security in his wealth.
Is it wrong to build sheds if grain is pouring out and rats are eating it? I don’t think so. The action may not have been wrong. The thinking was—“I’m going to lock this in so I can coast.” The problem is laying up treasure for yourself and not being rich toward God.
Then He said to His disciples, “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; nor about the body, what you will put on. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing. Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, which have neither storehouse nor barn; and God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds? And which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature? If you then are not able to do the least, why are you anxious for the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothes the grass, which today is in the field and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will He clothe you, O you of little faith?” (Luke 12:22–28, NKJV)
Jesus moves from the external to the inward life. Those who have wealth worry, and those who don’t have wealth worry. He’s talking to anyone breathing on the earth.
Someone shared a study: people reaching retirement—whether they came from a lot of money or almost none—had the same question: Will I have enough? Based on what Jesus is saying, give a one-word answer: Yes. Will you have enough for a full-time RV lifestyle? I don’t know. Disney World every week? I don’t know. But will you have enough? Absolutely yes—God knows you need these things.
Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature? Can you make yourself taller by worrying? Ridiculous—and that’s how silly it is to worry about tomorrow. You can’t solve anything by worrying.
There’s a spectrum. Counting the cost before you build can be wise. Anxious fixation is what Jesus shuts down. Life is more than food. Responsibility and action aren’t the enemy. Hand-wringing as your dominant thought is.
“And do not seek what you should eat or what you should drink, nor have an anxious mind. For all these things the nations of the world seek after, and your Father knows that you need these things. But seek the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you.” (Luke 12:29–31, NKJV)
He doesn’t just say “don’t worry.” He tells us what to replace it with.
Thought experiment: do not think about a medium-sized pink elephant. Most of you just pictured it. If I don’t want you thinking about that, I give you something else to think about—like a red Corvette from the sixties. That crowds the other thing out.
God built into our limitations a mechanism for spiritual success: the mind focuses on one thing at a time. How you overcome anxiety—even sin and temptation—is you forcefully put things into your mind that replace the worry. Seek first the kingdom of God. Put your mind and energy there. When you do, it crowds out worry.
What does “all these things shall be added” mean? In context it sounds practical: if you seek the kingdom, the things you need work out. One way that happens is community—if you’re in a church family seeking the kingdom together, we take care of each other. Even in harder histories where believers suffered, seeking the kingdom still means you find the kingdom—and ultimately you lack nothing in Him.
“Do not fear, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell what you have and give alms; provide yourselves money bags which do not grow old, a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches nor moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Luke 12:32–34, NKJV)
Beautiful words. Fairly simple. Not necessarily easy.
Worry is often a lack of faith. If you’re worrying, ask: Am I trusting that God’s got me? It isn’t wrong to name your worries—Peter says cast your cares on Him, which means you have to know what they are. A simple action: when you worry, start praying. Put it in front of God.
If our hope is in ourselves and our ability to provide, we’ll keep stockpiling—and our minds will stay there. Jesus says: seek His kingdom, put your mind on things above, place your hope in Him, and He will provide. We need to put our hope elsewhere.
These notes were drawn from Lucas Kitchen’s sermon on Luke 12:13–34 at The Pines (September 20, 2026).
