Junk | Wayfarer

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.
Philippians 4:12-13 (NIV)

Wendy and I have acquired a plethora of coffee mugs along life’s road. There are at least large drawers full of them, plus a cupboard with more. That’s just the kitchen. There are more downstairs in the pub and of course there’s a bunch at the lake. We have mugs from different plays we were in. There’s a mug from the Tonight Show with Jay Leno and the Pella Opera House. We have one coffee mug emblazoned with quotes of love from Shakespeare and another one with Shakespearean insults. I have diner mugs with various iterations of our company’s logo across the years. There’s a mug from a coffee shop in Kauai and others from various places we’ve visited. Far-side mugs, hobbit mugs, and flower mugs. Small mugs, medium mugs, and huge mugs. I believe Wendy and I could have the army of Guatemala over for coffee and still not be in want for mugs.

Come to think of it, I can’t think of one mug in our warehouse of coffee mugs that has a Bible verse on it. It’s possible that there’s one buried in there somewhere, but if there is I can’t picture it.

I’ve always had a bit of a love-hate relationship with popular Christian culture. All through my high school and college years I worked for a chain of stores that sold pretty much anything on which you could print a bible verse. There were frisbees that “rose on the wings of eagles” and flashlights with which to be “the light of the world.” There were pewter bread trays branded for “the bread of life” and water bottles for your personal “spring of living water.” Of course, there were coffee mugs to help believers praise God “from the rising of the sun.”

Hawking the Christian tchotchkes helped put me through college, and for that I’m grateful. Even then, however, there was a catch in my spirit with Jesus junk. Part of my personal hesitation has to do with the fact that Jesus Himself said He wanted His disciples’ love, kindness, and servant-hearted acts to mark them as His followers. Walking around in my “saved by grace” t-shirt feels a bit like a shortcut that cheapens the whole thing.

The other thing that bothers me is the fact that reducing the Message to a pithy painted trinket sometimes profanes it. I’m sure theres a power band or set of dumbbells you can buy that comes with “I can do all this through him who gives me strength” printed on them to inspire your holy workout.

When Paul wrote “I can do all things through him who gives me strength” he wasn’t talking about lifting heavy weights, running a marathon, or even doing spectacular miracles like raising the dead. He was specifically talking about being content whether he was living in wealth or poverty, whether he was healthy or sick, whether he had full pantry or didn’t know where his next meal was coming from. I know, contentment isn’t as inspiring as moving mountains, but to my mind it might be more difficult. After all, we live in a world that is fueled by discontent. What Paul was really getting at by saying “I can do all this through him” was about walking away from the end-cap full of exercise gloves with Philippians 4:13 stitched on them. I don’t need them. I can be content with plain black ones I have at home.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself contemplating contentment. I’m still shocked by the fact that I never hear it discussed in a serious way. I wonder if discontent and the desire for more is so embedded in our cultural DNA that we can’t even fathom the contentment that Jesus expected of His disciples when He sent them out in pairs to neighboring towns and told them to take nothing but the cloak on their backs. Somehow, I think that I need a lot more contentment and a lot less of everything else. It’s at least worth some serious conversation over a cup of coffee.

Feel free to stop by. I’ve got a coffee mug just waiting for you.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

'curb it' — Image by natashalcd via Flickr

“All we have are five loaves of bread and two fish,” they said. Matthew 14:17 (MSG)

It’s clean up week in my town. People can go through their homes and put large, bulky things they don’t want on the curb for the garbage truck to haul away. The result is an ant-like army scurrying around town picking up trash off other people’s yards. My wife and I like to put things on the curb and guesstimate how long it’s going to last before someone stops and takes it. There have been times when I’ve hauled something to the curb and someone has stopped to take it before I could walk back to my house. There’s generally not much of anything left for the garbage man.

Over the last few years, I’ve had a goal of simplifying my life. I’m a work in progress, but I have a genuine desire to get rid of stuff I don’t need or use. I really do want to do more with less. One of the most fascinating things about clean up week is that many of the people who I see running around picking up other people’s trash are those who really appear not to need it. They have plenty of money and plenty of junk. How fascinating, this allure to hoard more.

How fascinating the disciples thinking. “All we have…” That’s scarcity thinking: “It’s not enough.” That’s shame thinking: “What we have is worthless for the task.”

I’ve learned a few things in my journey towards simplicity. I’ve learned that I can actually get by with far less than I already have. I’ve also learned that less clutter and less crap creates a greater sense of peace, and more room for the things of God. The more I have, the more for which I’m responsible. The more I have to store. The more I have to think about. The more to which I must tend.

Jesus’ lesson to me today is a reminder that I have more than enough to do what He wants me to do. No thinking “If only I had…” or “I don’t have…” or “As soon as I get…” or “But, all I have is…” I am blessed with more than what is sufficient for the task.

Fish sandwich, anyone?