It was bright and cool in the backyard of the Duck Pond preschool in Oakland, California -- perfect climbing weather. So a little girl named Chloe pulled herself to the top of the play structure and reached for the fire-fighter's pole, her 3-year-old body poised for a fast ride to the bottom.

But Chloe quickly made a disappointing discovery, one that meant there would be no ride that day. With shock in her voice, she called out to her teacher, "The pole is gone."

The fire-fighter's pole was gone, forever. It had been removed, for safety reasons.

That's not all that's missing from schoolyards and parks across the country. Poles are falling to hacksaws and daycare swings are tumbling into trash bins. Parks are losing their seesaws, jungle gyms and slides.

Why? Because safety regulators have raised their standards higher than many owners can afford to reach.

One hundred years ago, the playground movement got off the ground. Envisioned as space where children could explore and stay fit, parks were built with monkey bars, swings, and slides in abundance. Sure, everyone knew that danger existed and that some kids would get hurt, but a motto of the movement was "better a broken arm than a broken spirit."

Now that's been reversed. Better a broken spirit than a protracted lawsuit.

Today, playgrounds have been made so safe -- when they haven't been eliminated altogether -- that children find them boring. The Washington Post reports that New York City even cut down trees near playgrounds so that children would not be tempted to climb them. Children are left isolated, under-exercised, and overweight. But at least when that happens, there is no one to blame, or no one to sue. Children are safe in sterile playgrounds. (Glenn Harlan Reynolds, "The Accountability Gap," The Washington Post, May 2, 2001, C3)

Many worry about this development, seeing it as a sign of paranoia about children's safety. We all want kids to avoid unnecessary injury, of course, but is removing challenge the only way to manage risk? Moreover, some fear that if kids don't find risk in their playgrounds, they seek it out in much more dangerous places.

Better to jump off a jungle gym than off the roof of a house.

The idleness of which Paul speaks in Second Thessalonians is the antithesis of risk-taking. This passage is a strong call to climb to the top of the jungle gym: to toil and labor, to take responsibility, to stay busy, to "not be weary in doing what is right" (3:13).

The apostle is particularly upset with those in Thessalonica who "are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work" (v. 11). These people have forgotten the words of God to Adam in the Book of Genesis, "By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground" (Genesis 3:19). They are clearly ignoring the command of Paul from an earlier visit: "Anyone unwilling to work should not eat" (2 Thessalonians 3:10). These folks are the first-century equivalents of overweight, under-exercised, twenty-first century kids who sit like bumps in boring playgrounds.

Call them Sterile Souls.

We shouldn't be like the man who prays, "I thank you, God, that so far today I haven't been unkind, haven't said a bad word, haven't had an impure thought, and haven't yielded to temptation." Then he asks God to help him stay that way for the rest of the day, and he gets out of bed.

What's the focus of our faith, anyway? To avoid blame, or to advance Christ's mission? Sometimes it seems that we value purity over passion, and worry so much about the condition of our fingernails that we never get our hands dirty in the work of the kingdom.

There's a real danger in being a Sterile Soul, always playing it safe.

One group that doesn't fret about fingernails is Habitat for Humanity, an organization that operates with what it calls the "theology of the hammer." Habitat knows that people will differ religiously or politically, but they can all agree on the hammer as a way to help people in need.

With toil and labor and dedication, the volunteers of Habitat provide housing for low-income families -- people who wouldn't otherwise be able to afford a home. The work is physically challenging, but ultimately very satisfying, because Habitat makes sure that volunteers are supported by plumbers, electricians, and a steady supply of materials. Hard work does not have to be a draining and miserable experience.

"Nobody works for nothing," insists Millard Fuller, the founder and president of Habitat. "Some people work for money, and some people work for recognition. But I'll tell you this … We have a great record because it's a good experience. Everyone who works on a Habitat house gets something of value out of it." (Regina Fazio Maruca, "What Makes Teams Work?" Fast Company, November 2000, 109ff)

Can the same be said of the church? Does it give people an opportunity to get something of value out of a true challenge?

Your response to this year's Grow-One stewardship campaign has been extraordinary, and it demonstrates to me that you don't want this church to be a sterile playground. The generosity of your pledge commitments shows that you truly want to do the work of God's kingdom: To toil and labor, to take responsibility, to stay busy, to "not be weary in doing what is right."

I am convinced that something truly valuable will come out of your giving of money, time and talent in the year to come. What you will discover, I believe, is that spiritual growth comes from committed, consistent giving. As you support the work of the church, you will find yourself growing in faith, in joy, in understanding, in compassion, in serenity, and in closeness to God and one another. As our Stewardship Committee has explained so well this year, true Christian stewardship is based not on the need of the church to receive, in order to balance the budget. Instead, it is based on your need, as a giver, to give -- for your own spiritual development.

I've certainly found this to be true in my own life. When I make an investment in something, when I commit myself to it consistently, then it grows in importance in my life. It may be my marriage, or my children, or a hobby, or a friendship, or a creative project, or the work of the church. Whatever it is, I find that God rewards giving with personal growth. Of course, Jesus knew this well, which is why he said, "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Matthew 6:21).

More than anything else, I am excited about what your stewardship commitments will do for the spiritual growth of this church in the year to come. I have to wonder: Will it enable us to create exciting new opportunities for people to roll up their sleeves and flex their muscles in the work of the kingdom? People today -- especially young people -- like to be where the action is, and to see their faith take concrete form.

Will strong stewardship inspire us to be an even more welcoming and inclusive community of faith? For two thousand years, people have been primarily attracted to Christianity through loving actions. In the very earliest days of the church, people did not first understand the faith and then decide to become Christian converts; instead, according to my divinity school professor George Lindbeck, they were first attracted by the Christian community and form of life.

Will strong stewardship help us to see human needs around us, and become excited about opportunities to meet the needs we see? Will it motivate us to take risks and reach out in new ways with the love of Christ?

Or, I have to worry, will a good strong budget have the opposite effect, and lure us into sitting safely in a sterile playground?

Remember the parable of the talents, in which a man summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents, and this industrious slave took a risk and traded with his talents, making five talents more. To another the man gave one talent, but this cautious slave went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master's money.

He didn't want to gamble. Didn't want to lose his talent. Didn't want to fall off the jungle gym.

This was a big mistake.

When the master came and settled his accounts, he praised the risk-taker who doubled his investment. But to the risk-averse Sterile Soul he shouted, "You wicked and lazy slave!" He blasted him for burying his talent, and then ordered the slave to be thrown into the outer darkness (Luke 25:14-30).

Risk-averse. Talent-burying. Wicked and lazy. Is that how WE want to be labeled?

Strong Christian stewardship gives us a marvelous opportunity to get out of a sterile spiritual playground and start taking some chances. It gives us the chance to express Christian doctrine in Christian action, and to match graceful words to grace-filled deeds.

When the working poor need affordable housing, let us not be weary in doing what is right.

When homeless families struggle to find food and shelter, let us not be weary in doing what is right.

When children need rescue from neglect and abuse, let us not be weary in doing what is right.

When God's beautiful creation is being destroyed by thoughtless human actions, let us not be weary in doing what is right.

When neighbors are struggling, and so in need of a word of gospel hope, let us not be weary in doing what is right.

The jungle gym of Christian stewardship may be high, and the climb may feel dizzying and dangerous.

But what a view from the top. Amen.