A few weeks ago, my pastor’s sermon was about the love of stuff.
Actually, he titled his sermon “The Harlot of Prosperity” from Revelation 17-18, but this is a family newspaper so I’ll keep this rated PG.
He asked, “Do you want more?”
The spiritually correct answer is: “No, I am completely satisfied with everything God has given me.”
However, the real answer is: “Of course I want more, especially more shoes. And sweaters.”
True fact: I have an entire closet filled with cardigan sweaters, all hung up with like colors together.
If you asked me if I have enough, I would tell you yes, but I still have my eyes open for a certain shade of buttery yellow and also grayish-blue like the ocean.
Also? I’m on the lookout for dusty rose or wine-colored canvas sneakers.
It’s a sickness, this wanting more.
If there’s one good thing that’s come from the coronavirus pandemic it’s that my favorite clothing stores have closed their fitting rooms, so it’s been months since I’ve been on a shopping trip. Except online.
Like I said, it’s a sickness, a soul sickness.
Theologian John Calvin got it right when he said that our hearts are “perpetual idol factories” and that “every one of us is, even from his mother’s womb, a master craftsman of idols.”
We all are idol factories –idol worshipers.
Years ago, New York City pastor Tim Keller gave this definition of an idol: Any thing, person, possession, place, activity, experience, relationship, substance or idea that I turn to FIRST for pleasure, comfort, satisfaction or meaning.
Basically, anything other than God.
It’s not that most of these things are bad in and of themselves. But even good things become idols when we elevate them to a highest place — the thing I turn to first, the thing I think about throughout the day, the thing I think I can’t live without.
Even though I know I should turn to God first — and sometimes I do — more often I don’t.
The not-God stuff is shinier and softer and 50% off on sale.
Chasing after not-God stuff is my default mode “from my mother’s womb.”
And yet, even though I keep going back for more, I remain unsatisfied.
Sometimes I think I understand alcoholics who go to the bar day after day, always thirsty, yet never quenched.
Booze, cookies, sweaters, the perfect job or relationship or eyeshadow color — it’s all the same. It’s all not-God. It’s all just an attempt to chase and catch the wind.
St. Augustine asked, “Which of these things he (God) has made can satisfy you, if God himself does not?”
Ouch.
The thing is, I’ve tried to grit my teeth and make myself be satisfied with God, think about Jesus and poor people in third world countries who don’t even wear clothes and are happy.
But it doesn’t work that way.
The more I try not to want more, the more I want. And then I start feeling sick in my soul, asking, “What’s wrong with me?”
It’s a sickness, but God has a cure. It’s not me trying harder to love him, but admitting I am foul and empty and letting him love me. The more I am loved, the easier it is to not turn to my not-God idols first.
Sometimes we have to actively fight to keep ourselves from our destructive idols, but sometimes it’s as simple as remembering that God smiles on his own and being surprised when his smile is enough.
Nancy Kennedy is the author of “Move Over, Victoria — I Know the Real Secret,” “Girl on a Swing” and “Lipstick Grace.” She can be reached at 352-564-2927 or via email at [email protected].
