Lent Day 25: Stuff

Lent Day 25: Stuff

There used to be a show on TV where a team invaded a pack rat’s home and decluttered them. They typically picked two rooms in the home to clear and reorganize. It was called “Clean Sweep.” I watched it regularly, hoping to catch some hope for my own over-packed home. Secretly, I must confess that I hoped they would show up on my doorstep.

We’re looking to move again in the next six months. My husband has been on a crusade to prepare us for this since last fall. He has been putting stuff on Free-cycle (it’s a great program for getting rid of usable stuff; check it out at freecycle.org) and selling stuff on ebay. But he’s not just cleaning out and downsizing our stuff, he’s also downsizing our bills and our spending. It’s all a good thing and I’m impressed daily and blessed by his commitment to the project.

Last night I stood in the room where our desktop computer is and watched him work his magic. He’s been taking a course on improving our financial situation and it has truly inspired him. He found some resources to sell my books and he’s been getting really good money for them. I went through the shelves and pulled out boxes and boxes of books that I no longer use and can’t foresee needing in the future.

Watching him gleefully selling the books hit me unusually hard last evening. I chose the books to get rid of. I made the decision to let go. But last night it wasn’t books that I saw going. It was dream. It was hope. It was me. And in that moment, I understood some of the tears that I saw people shed on “Clean Sweep” as the crew worked to wrench open their hands to release their hold on stuff that was squeezing the life out of them.

Part of the problem for these people, and sometimes for me, is that we find our identity in our things. The things we keep take on meanings and symbolism that never was intended. For example, I had lots of books, therefore I was smart. I always wanted lovely furniture because I thought it would tell people who come into my home that I have taste and it would welcome them in. I have three chairs in my living room and tons of toys and kid books and videos. It’s pretty easy to see who gets welcomed here. There are no real chairs around my dining room table (we use plastic lawn chairs—they work inside and out), but there are four little plastic chairs and two kid tables in my living room. It makes for an odd tension between what I wish and what really is.

Thinking through this I was reminded of Paul’s message to the Philippians. He’s been assuring them of his pedigree when he tells them what he really values: “7 I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. 8 Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ 9 and become one with him (Phil. 3:7-9a, NLT).”

Having books doesn’t necessarily mean I’m smart. Having nice furniture in an impressive house doesn’t mean I’ve got it all together. I am not my stuff. And having stuff or wanting stuff (or more stuff), if not held in the proper perspective when it comes to my relationship with Christ is just clutter and crap (Paul called it dung). When we get a hold on this and it gets a real hold on us, we will find so much more room in our heart for God. Letting go of our stuff, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, opens us up—frees us to receive more of Christ. And what he has to give us is so much better than the garbage we’ve been holding onto. Is it time for a clean sweep in your heart? I’m working on mine.