Our stuff.
As much as we hate to admit it, we are often very enamored with our stuff. When we start out in life we don’t have much stuff. In fact, we are thankful for whatever stuff other people have given to us. When we live with our parents, we just use their stuff. Then when we move out, we scrounge whatever stuff we can find. When Gloria and I were married in 1987 we had very little. My Grandparents had an old couch that they decided to give to us. The couch was a little worn out. So, out of the kindness of their hearts, they had it reupholstered…In the finest 1970, brown checked pattern you have ever seen. But you know what…we had a couch; and it was a sofa bed! And although we did not have very many overnight guests, it was much more comfortable than sleeping outside when I said something incredibly stupid or hurful to my new bride.
But after a while something subtle and unexpected begins to happen. We start to accumulate more and nicer stuff. And, in the accumulation, our attitude toward our stuff changes. At some point we have an outfit, or television, or car that we just would not want to live without. In fact, we have a tendency to get bigger and nicer containers for our stuff (houses) so that we can shove more stuff inside. And then eventually (and without awareness) we sense that a type of fear has crept into our life. The type of fear that comes from “hey, I don’t want to lose my house and stuff, so I better keep this job” even if keeping THAT job means not pursuing your passion as a dancer, or musician, or great Dad, or healer or…well you get the idea. Accumulating things and having control over lots of stuff, actually turns on you; to the point that your stuff gains control over you, and kills in you the richness that comes from knowing dependence on the One who will never fail you and can never be taken away.
In his great book “The Jesus I Never Knew”, Philip Yancey discusses the insights of writer Monika Hellwig, who lists the “advantages” to being poor:
“1. The poor know they are in urgent need of redemption.
2. The poor know not only their dependence on God and on powerful people but also their interdependence with one another.
3. The poor rest their security not on things but on people.
4. The poor have no exaggerated sense of their own importance, and no exaggerated need of privacy.
5. The poor expect little from competition and much from cooperation.
6. The poor can distinguish between necessities and luxuries.
7. The poor can wait, because they have acquired a kind of dogged patience born of acknowledged dependence.
8. The fears of the poor are more realistic and less exaggerated, because they already know that one can survive great suffering and want.
9. When the poor have the Gospel preached to them, it sounds like good news and not like a threat or a scolding.
10. The poor can respond to the call of the Gospel with a certain abandonment and uncomplicated totality because they have so little to lose and are ready for anything.
In summary, through no choice of their own — they may urgently wish otherwise — poor people find themselves in a posture that befits the grace of God. In their state of neediness, dependence and dissatisfaction with life, they may welcome God’s free gift of love.
As an exercise I went back over Monika Hellwig’s list, substituting the word “rich” for “poor” and changing the sentence to its opposite. “The rich do not know they are in urgent need of redemption…The rich rest their security not on people but on things…”
Next, I tried something far more threatening: I substituted the word “I.” Reviewing each of the ten statements, I asked myself if my own attitudes more resembled those of the poor or the rich. Do I easily acknowledge my needs? Do I readily depend on God and on other people? Where does my security rest? Am I more likely to compete or cooperate? Can I distinguish between necessities and luxuries? Am I patient? Do the Beatitudes sound like good news or like a scolding?”
Going Further:
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