There’s nothing quite like preparing to move overseas that brings you face-to-face with your latent materialism. I’ve never been one of those people who have to have the latest and greatest gadgets or the trendiest clothes or the fanciest car. In fact, in most cases I’d rather not have those things. And aside from my one weakness of books, I don’t really feel the need to accumulate a lot of material goods that would be of value. So you can imagine my surprise when trying to fit my tangible belongings into four suitcases prompted a swelling of possessiveness over stuff and sadness at having to leave so much of it behind.
As I have packed and repacked with each changing season over
the course of the year-and-a-half since I’ve known I was getting ready to move (a
period lasting a year longer than I originally thought), many people have
good-naturedly suggested I just leave practically everything behind and buy
everything new once I arrive. In a way, this seems like the most practical
solution—and I’m all for practicality!—so why does that suggestion increase my
feelings of stress rather than diminish them?
Because I love my stuff. I love my clothes; I love my books;
I love my piano music and my cross-stitch supplies and my notebooks and pens.
There’s nothing particularly special about most of that, but they’re mine.
I don’t want new stuff; I want my stuff. And as I’m facing an exciting
transition to a completely new world, I find myself desperate to hold on to
things that are familiar and comfortable. Like I realized after talking with a
married friend about her experience, I want our new home to feel like it’s mine
and his, not someone else’s, and part of that for me means bringing things that
I have a history with into our home.
Since this trans-Atlantic move is going to be one of the
most challenging things I’ve ever done, even as much as God has prepared me for
it throughout my life thus far, it’s not unreasonable to want some tangible
piece of constancy in the midst of all the change—as positive and exciting as
it will be. But the deep feelings of attachment to stuff serve as a signal to
examine my heart in light of the perspective Jesus instructs me to have as His
follower.
He tells us, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on
earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but
lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys
and where thieves do not break in and steal.” (Matthew 6:19-20, ESV). It’s
easy when reading these verses to focus on the dependent clauses (the parts
talking about moths, rust, and thieves) and think that the point is something
like this: We shouldn’t bother gathering stuff here on earth because it’s going
to be destroyed; the better strategy to get stuff is to focus on stuff that’s
going to last.
But I think the real point of this passage comes in the next
verse where Jesus tells us why we shouldn’t lay up treasures on earth: “For
where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21,
ESV). It’s not about making sure we have stuff that lasts. In fact, it’s not
really about having stuff at all; it’s about making sure our heart isn’t
captured by stuff instead of by our Savior.
When I think about the prospect of leaving literally all my
earthly possessions behind to marry my fiancé, I realize that, despite being
overjoyed and relieved at finally being his wife, deep down I know I would also
miss what I left behind. And while he graciously understands my need for having
some tangible attachments to my past, l want to be constantly evaluating my
heart to make sure that I am not attached to stuff more than to him.
If that is the posture I should take regarding my earthly
husband, how much more, then, do I need to be evaluating my heart to make sure
that my affections for my heavenly Husband are not overshadowed by my
affections for things? As Jesus goes on to say a few sentences later, “No
one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other,
or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God
and money [Greek mammon, a Semitic word for money or possessions]”
(Matthew 6:24, ESV). Even though I don’t spend a lot of my time focused on
accumulating possessions, they still have a strong hold on my affections, and
if I’m honest, when I think about the other eventual transition to another
completely new world—the world of eternity with God—I find myself saddened at
the thought of leaving behind the things that are familiar and comfortable.
Will I be overjoyed and relieved just to be finally in the
physical presence of Jesus? Absolutely. And I’m fairly certain that when I get
there “the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory
and grace” and I will not miss any of these temporary things that I call “mine”
here on earth.[1]
But the issue I—and we all—should be concerned with is not our reaction then
but our perspective now. We are called to be growing each day in the likeness
of and love for Christ, and that means gradually loosening our hold on the
temporal things that have no eternal significance.
One thing that has encouraged me in this area is the song by
Michael Card called “Things We Leave Behind” that talks about the freedom that
comes from relinquishing our grasp on earthly things in our possession. I encourage
you to take a listen here. I first heard this song around the time my
relationship with my now fiancé started, coming with the realization of what
saying yes to a life with him would entail. And as it became clear that this
was what God has for me, this song helped me embrace the uncomfortable process
of sanctification (growing in Christlikeness) in the area of being captivated
more by Christ and His plan for my life than by stuff.
Have I arrived? Absolutely not. But by God’s grace and
patience and through the power of His Spirit, He is gradually chipping away the
attachments that are holding me back from being more fully enthralled by Him. I
challenge you to examine your own heart in this area as well. Are there areas
of your life where you are holding on to stuff more than you’re holding on to
the Savior? Along with Michael Card, I’ll remind us all: “We can’t imagine the
freedom we find from the things we leave behind.”
[1] “Turn Your Eyes upon Jesus” by Helen H. Lemmel
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