I’m not a fan of the gravel-voiced, codgery comic, George Carlin. He has an immense dislike of Christians, to put it mildly, and he’s vulgar (was even awarded a free speech award for “swearing a lot in public and getting away with it”). Do believers ever write to him after hearing him vilify Christians in his act and tell him that they’re praying for him? That thought makes me smile. (“bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” Luke 6:28 NASB). But I remember a great stand-up routine he used to do about Stuff. At one point he said, “A house is just a pile of stuff with a cover on it. You can see that when you're taking off in an airplane. You look down, you see everybody's got a little pile of stuff. All the little piles of stuff. And when you leave your house, you gotta lock it up. Wouldn't want somebody to come by and take some of your stuff.” Keen observation.
We have too much stuff. It happened when we weren’t paying attention, I guess. Most of it’s been accumulated in the past eight years since we made our last move. We don’t even have enough places to put it all. Linens we never use. Dishes we never use. Furniture we never use. ROOMS we never use.
For years I nurtured a fantasy of getting rid of all but a few of our possessions and just living in a tiny cabin with a dirt floor somewhere in the woods by a quiet stream. Sigh. The fantasy has evolved over time to living out of a van with curtains (too bad we don’t have that shag-interior Dodge van we had back in the 70’s!), dog in tow, enough beads and findings to make and sell jewelry as food and fuel are needed, and traveling the country. Mike’s not going for it. Even though he also thinks we have way too much stuff.
The weird part is neither one of us likes to shop. We’d rather shop for books more than anything else that the vast array of stores and superstores has to offer. Oooh, I wonder, if we sold most of our household belongings, how many books that would buy? We once knew a woman who lived singly in a big house on a hill. When she died, they found five- and six-foot stacks of books filling every room throughout her home. She had very, old copies of cool books like the works of Hannah Hurnard, C.S. Lewis, Spurgeon, on and on. But I digress. We like books; we don’t want to hoard books.
We don’t want to hoard anything, but it’s so easy in our suburbian subculture to casually pick up something from aisle A and something from aisle B, sort of like a Chinese restaurant menu. And before we know it, eight years later, we have…stuff. (Lord, help us keep our priorities straight when we’re walking down the aisles at Target. “A life devoted to things is a dead life, a stump; a God-shaped life is a flourishing tree.” Prov. 11:28 MSG)
Author Philip Yancey shared a story in Christianity Today about a spiritual seeker who spent a few days in a monastery. "I hope your stay is a blessed one," said the monk who showed the visitor to his cell. "If you need anything, let us know, and we'll teach you how to live without it."
That’s what I want to learn. How to live without it. The curtained van idea is sounding pretty good. In keeping with our conservative grandparent life motif, we’ll probably just take a few things to our local charity organization. It’s a start.
“Actually, I don't have a sense of needing anything personally. I've learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances.” Phil. 4:11 MSG
About the author:
Joye says she has THE best husband, and 2 very, wise children with precious spouses, and 3 beautiful grandchildren who are geniuses. Read her blog Joyeful Things.
