More Than "Stuff": I'm Thankful He's Enough

Soon, we will be full into the swing of all-things-fall.  By October 1^st, just a few days away, pumpkin-flavored everything will overtake the atmosphere.  Even though in Florida, it will likely be 4 solid weeks of 90°+ sweating, people will festoon their worlds with their best faux-fall décor, willing the cooler weather to take hold—and hopefully stay—for a little while.

Soon, we will see touching holiday commercials, with families gathered around tables absolutely groaning under the weight of a picture-perfect meal.  They’ll look lovingly at one another and hold hands, while poignant violins and delicate piano shade the background with heart-tugging tunes.  We’ll be surprised at our emotions, and maybe even wipe away an unexpected tear.

Soon, we’ll see daily social media posts on what people are thankful for.  They’ll be thankful for family, for friends, for good health, for a strong economy, for a thriving business or for that last big vacation they were able to take—whether or not they went into debt for it.  It was an investment, after all.

There’s nothing wrong with fall.  Nothing wrong with pumpkin.  (I am a big fan!)  Nothing wrong with vacations.  Nothing wrong with warm thoughts of family, or gathering together, or even for expressing gratitude.  In fact, as silly as it sounds, I’m grateful for gratitude.

But gratitude isn’t a season.  It’s a lifestyle—or it should be.

Sometimes, I have to remind myself of this.

The cares of life are real.  Sometimes, the daily grind makes it almost impossible to see the blessings of each day.  The alarm goes off, and unceremoniously the day begins. We fight through grumpy kids, uncooperative appliances, thoughtless drivers and horrific traffic, all to get to a job where so many times we feel unappreciated and unfulfilled.  We forget appointments, might be late paying a bill, overdraw our bank accounts, and nearly forget to fill our gas tanks.  We finally get home—supposedly a sanctuary—only to remember the kitchen that needs cleaning, the piles of laundry overtaking bedroom floorspace that need washing, and that we forgot to lay out anything to thaw for dinner.  Suddenly, we’re reminded of that special project we told _____ we’d work on.  We remember too late that we’re out of dog food, or that we needed to get milk, or that we promised we’d bring something into the potluck the next day.  Then there’s homework.  Kid baths. Laying out clothes (if there are any that aren’t in the laundry mountains).  If we’re lucky, we drop into bed before 10:00—and the cycle begins again.

I was teaching a class recently, and I’ll admit, the overwhelming cynicism of these students really got under my skin.  There was almost a sense of superiority, as they laughed at the multi-cultural lesson I brought to them.  I tried to explain that to dismiss something out of hand that you just aren’t familiar with is silly at best, and ignorant at worst.  I encouraged them to just lay aside their fears and their prejudices, and just embrace the experience.  They really, really struggled with this—some more than others—and I saw a few that were making it difficult for others to just go with the flow of the lesson. 

What finally struck me is that, instead of embracing the idea of learning something new, the pervasive attitude I’m seeing in many students today could almost be described as arrogance.  They feel entitled to be cynics and critics, they dismiss anything that is different or new as stupid or beneath them.  They’ve bought into the idea that they’re too cool for school, and that they already know everything that is worth knowing.

It also struck me that this is the opposite of gratitude.   And it's the spirit of the age.

When we become so self-involved that we think we somehow deserve whatever society should hand us, whatever God could possibly give us, we have lost our sense of awe and wonder.  We’ve lost our understanding of our own insignificance.  We’ve lost sight of our need to make a contribution to the world, and think that, just by existing, it is enough.

Our existence isn’t a gift to the world, as much as it is a gift to US.  So many times, I’ve looked at newborn babies, and thought, “Their whole life is a blank book, and what will be the story that is written there?  Who will serve as ‘contributing authors’ during their early years?  How will it shape the story that is to come, when they are old enough to take up the pen for themselves?  How many chapters will there be?  How will it end?”  Every life is one of potential.  But not every life writes a story that changes the world for the better.  What will we do with the gift of life that is given to us?

Please, please don’t misunderstand me: I know there is a purpose for each and every life.  I know that God has a plan.  I know each person is made in the image of God.  But I also know enough to know that it is in our power to choose the direction that we take.  I know that we all come to certain crossroads that shape us, and define us, and make us who we are.  I know that those choices also affect those around us, for better or for worse.

I also know enough to know that the pursuit of stuff is pointless—or at least, it shouldn’t be the main thing.  Positions, jobs, homes, elaborate vacations—they’re nice, but if they ever become the sole driving factor of our existence, we’re placing ourselves at their mercy.  We’re just one hostile takeover, one election, one bad business decision, one bounced check away from our whole world collapsing under the weight of misplaced dreams.

I was reading a little in Paul’s letter to the Hebrews this morning.  A few verses in particular stuck out, forcefully impacting me, especially in the 13^th chapter:

Hebrews 13:5-6 KJV

⁵ Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have:

for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.

⁶ So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me. 

So you have a clearer picture, he’s not saying that you shouldn’t talk about the things that you are coveting.  Conversation here is not the word we’d likely use today, if we were translating this from Greek, because it’s lost some of the meaning it had in the day it was thus translated.  If you look this up according to its Strong’s Concordance reference number, G5158, the Greek word, tropos, occurs 13 times in the New Testament.  Only one time is it translated as conversation.  The definition actually lists “deportment or character” and “manner or fashion” among its meanings.  It’s clearer in the New King James Version: “Let your conduct be without covetousness.” And then we’re told, “be content with such things as you have.”

WHY?  Why would we be content?  Aren’t we always supposed to be reaching?  Grabbing?  Striving?  Stepping on whatever and whoever might be in the way of what WE want?

No.  We’re supposed to be content—to express gratitude—because “he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”

THAT is supposed to be ENOUGH.  He is ENOUGH...NOT the STUFF.  When the stuff is more important, when it all disappears, we don’t know who we are anymore.  But when the stuff is gone, and we can still lift our hands and say, “God, I know it’s not about the stuff—it’s all about YOU—and I know that YOU will never leave me, nor forsake me, and as long as that is the case, I am content,” THAT IS ENOUGH.

It is then that verse 6 comes alive: we can boldly say, “The Lord is my helper, and I will NOT fear what man shall do unto me.”

I will not fear.  I will not fear the hostile takeover—for YOU are on my side, and if YOU be for me, O God, who can be against me?

I will not fear the empty bank account—for You, O Lord, own the cattle on a thousand hills.  YOU use gold as street pavement in the New Jerusalem.  YOU are my source—not man.

I will not fear what happens in the next election—because YOU and YOU ALONE, God, set up kingdoms, and take down kingdoms.  Like you did with Esther, You can put YOUR people in places of influence, and guide situations to Your preferred outcome, all without ever breaking a sweat.

I will not fear the future of our economy—because for as long as You have existed, You’ve specialized in making something out of nothing.  You spoke worlds into existence.  You said, “Let there BE…” and there WAS.  You turn water into wine; you open blind eyes; you feed thousands upon thousands with five loaves and two fish.  You made shoes and clothing grow right along with their owners during the Exodus and in the wilderness, and Your people never wondered for one day where their food was going to come from.  You part entire seas, and even allow those who serve you to walk through them on dry ground.  You shut the mouths of lions; You give the victory to those who serve you with their whole hearts.  And the three Hebrew boys in Babylon can attest that You’re the best fire-retardant EVER.  There is NOTHING You can’t do, and there is NOTHING TO FEAR.  Not with You around.

And then, when He brings back the stuff, it will rest in its proper perspective.  And we won’t be driven by it.  We’ll enjoy it, but we will realize that is isn’t what brings happiness, or joy, or peace.  HE does that.

When I was speaking to that particular class, I got to thinking about a friend of mine who grew up in Haiti.  She lived among the poorest of the poor, and never dreamed that one day, she’d marry an American serviceman, and come to live in this amazing, prosperous country.  Her children, now adults, have lives and opportunities that she never could have imagined for herself.  Wisely, she recognizes the blessings of God, and that He is the One who has made all of this possible—and she shakes her head in wonderment, and raises her hands unto Him in true, pure, unadulterated thanksgiving and gratitude.  She is thankful.  She is appreciative.  And it didn’t take a warm, fuzzy commercial or the scent of a pumpkin spice latte to bring it about.

And tomorrow, when her head rises from her pillow, and her day begins anew—she won’t allow the cares of this life to overwhelm her attitudes and color her day—because she KNOWS that it’s not the STUFF.  It’s knowing that God has brought her from a mighty long way—and that He is ENOUGH.

If I don’t have a single thing to my name, and I have HIM—He is ENOUGH to keep me thankful all of my days.