There is an organizing method sweeping the nation, popularized in the bestseller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I have not read the book, but I gather one principle at its core is to go through the piles of stuff you may have accumulated – clothes, books, files, games, CDs, electronics, exercise equipment, what have you – and ask, “Does this bring me joy?” If the answer is no, gracefully toss it or help it find a new home. Asking, “Might I ever use this?” (my usual approach...) too often elicits a yes, and leaves us mired in our clutter.
I wonder if this is remotely what Jesus had in mind when he said to the man who came asking how he might inherit eternal life, “‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’
Certainly Jesus's suggestion was not so moderate. He said that this man should render himself completely free of possessions – not just by shedding them, but actually selling them and giving the money to the poor. Jesus invited him to be completely unencumbered, totally available to the winds of the Spirit to bless and work through him. And lest we think this is insane, remember that others have done it – St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day we celebrated Sunday, was among the most notable, but many who have entered religious orders, and denominations like the Mennonites, have done the same thing. Is there something about possessions that blocks the flow of God’s life in us?
Does Jesus ask the same of us? Or is this word given only to those who have great wealth and many possessions? Oh, that’s a dangerous tack to take; few of us self-describe as wealthy or think we have enough. But when we compare our standing to that of others, particularly most of the rest of the world (by a rough estimate, the poorest American is wealthier than 85% of the world’s population…), we start to see clearly just how much we have, and how much it may be standing in our way spiritually. It's not the wealth, it's where we put our security that saps our faith.
How do we start to divest ourselves? Can we do it incrementally, or must we tear off this bandaid all at once, as Jesus told the man in our story to do? He was unable to meet that challenge;
When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
I fear I might have gone with him. I’m not ready to tear off the bandaid. But I’m willing to reposition myself relative to my goods and wealth, and move myself to greater readiness. I’m going to start with the things I have too much of, and ask not, “Does this bring me joy?” but “Does God have a use for this?”
I wonder where that will lead me. I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure God has a use for me, and he needs me free.
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