“Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or – worse – stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars.” (Matthew 6:19-20 MSG)
It’s only stuff. My treasure isn’t here anyway. Sure, the first little bit hurts, the slow uncurling of fingers. The questions from folks who have never have yet hurried to answer the call of God. Stuff feels strangely like security, but it’s a false collateral at best. It’s actually only a barrier, a briary hurdle between us and running after God’s best.
I’m realizing, it’s hard to run with a bungalow bound to our bank account. Our ‘yes’ is slow because our commitments to wood and brick and soil are strong. But as we begin to let go, we begin to feel brave. The house slowly empties and the dream inhales, growing bigger with every box, every shiny trinket that walks away with a stranger.
We are strangers, aren’t we? Called to live as foreigners, sojourners in a faraway land? Aren’t we supposed to exist intent on making our way home? And maybe, just maybe, all this stuff only competes; for affection, attention, consumption? Don’t we have a tendency to get stuck in our stuff?
The Lord in His infinite wisdom has purged my house over and over. Every 3-4 years of my adult life He has asked me to sort through it all again and push at least half to the curb, to the mission, or the moving sale. He keeps my load light so my heart remains tightly tethered to Him, not a physical address. He knows my family history.
I remember, too, clearing out my folks estate. Three and a half forty foot dumpsters. A hundred thousand pounds of stuff strewn across three states. 93 cars not included. I need only to close my eyes to recall where a lifetime of collecting will lead. Life choked out by dust and rust, buried beneath keeping things that have wound up keeping us. I refuse to go there, to take my adult children there when one day I make the great transition. Instead I will move as many times as the Lord leads me, as many times as it takes to keep putting stuff in it’s proper place. It’s temporary and I am transient. The things that matter last long beyond this life. I’m sending my treasure on ahead.
“The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.” (Matthew 6:21 MSG)
It’s written in the margins of my Bible, my divine directive from 2014 still holds my heart. “A Year Without Idols; YOU ARE MY TREASURE.” Ruth Haley Barton echoed the cry of my soul when she wrote “The presence of God is our Promised Land.” That’s the Home I’m hunting for and I don’t need a home and garden channel on the small screen to help me find it. I just need to let go of every little thing that distracts from pursuing Him.
If God is the treasure that we seek, the pearl of great price; then every ‘no’ to more stuff is a ‘yes‘ to Him. Every eviction of an object from our home frees up our hearts a little more fully to follow Him.
I don’t know why this is my story. I can’t say how we are tied with Abraham at 17 moves, maybe more. But I do know Who is writing my story and it appears to be an epic. I know what the Author requires next. I will joyfully comply because the destination is worth whatever sacrifice the journey entails.
Lord, please give us the grace to let go. Help us find the beauty in following You. Keep our ties to this earth loose as we look to obey You at every turn. Amen.