The Gospel of Stuff

Lately things have been breaking.  First my $50 watch broke.  A few weeks later, my pickup truck was smashed up.  Shortly after than, my favorite pair of glasses (also only pair of glasses) broke.

As Sweet Wife can attest, these things get me out of sorts.  I like my stuff, I like it the way I like it…and I want it to stay that way.  I tell myself I don’t like or want a lot of stuff (ha!) and trade that off for the concept of “the stuff I have and like I want to keep.”

As I was walking in to work recently, though, I struck me how ridiculous all of this is.  Basically, as long as things are the way I want them, I am good, satisfied and happy.  This is the Gospel of Stuff.

But compare this with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  This gospel says that I am a sinner and that I can’t save myself (and even if I could save myself, I would lose myself again).  This gospel says that I need someone to intercede on my behalf with a righteous and holy God.  This gospel says that Jesus Christ does that for me.  This gospel says that even though I am a dreadful sinner, my Savior won’t leave or forsake me.  This gospel says that when I am weak, my Savior is strong.  This gospel says that when my head is hung, God will lift my head.  This gospel says this Savior will look out for the least among us.  This gospel says that when we do something for the least among us, it’s as if we did it for God.  This gospel says that all of my works will be tested by fire and that the only way I come through the fire is because of the covering of Christ.

Why would I trade this gospel for stuff that will be gone and perish?  The watch will eventually wear out.  The truck will too.  My eyes will eventually deteriorate to the point where the glasses I have won’t work for me.  Why would I trade the eternal love of Christ for stuff?

This makes no sense to me, either.  Lord, please forgive my affection for the world and the things of this world.  This affection takes my eyes and heart off of you.  Lord, please keep me close to You.



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