Wednesday Witness: Wanting What You Have

There’s a saying I ran across somewhere:


At the time it seemed like wisdom, and there is a grain of truth in it: The more stuff we accumulate, the more we tend to want, so getting everything you want not only doesn’t lead to contentment, but creates a self-defeating cycle of desire for bigger, better, and just MORE things.

Mostly I have made peace with not having the best of everything, and I’ve reached a point in my life at which I am trying to detach and downsize. However, as I attempt to rid myself of so much stuff, I find that I do want what I have. I want it a great deal.

For example, I have accumulated a lot of books over the years. The ones I’ve read and kept are wonderful, and although I could get them at the library if I wanted to read them again, I love my collection and struggle to decide which volumes to part with. The books I haven’t read, I keep in the earnest if foolish hope that I will find time to read them one day soon. Then, I tell myself, if I am unlikely to reread them, I can get rid of them. Why should I get rid of them now?

I have a garage and a shed full of tools. I could try to excuse myself by saying I have far fewer than some other men I know—but, on the other hand, I use them far less. The same applies to hunting, fishing, and camping equipment. Masculine wisdom would suggest that, once acquired, such items should not be gotten rid of because, invariably, you will need them again one day. I have experienced this firsthand: I am on my second table saw and my second time owning our old pickup, Rosa. So each time I think of liquidating my garage or shed, I quickly decide against it and return to looking at my books instead.

Even shoes and clothing stump me! I am no fashionista (-nisto?), but I do have multiple sport coats, a rain jacket, a nice winter coat, a work winter coat, and a formal overcoat, as well as several sweatshirts, fleeces, and hoodies that function as outerwear much of the year. I have black dress shoes, brown and black casual shoes, sneakers, beater shoes for garage and yard work, work/hunting boots, snow/wet weather boots, sandals, a pair of slides for in the house, and a pair of slippers I only use in winter. I also have two pairs of western boots from when Jodi and I worked at Wall Drug that I wear occasionally but are sentimental to me. (One pair is a one-of-a-kind custom set made for someone else by a company no longer in business. They fit me perfectly. How can I get rid of those?!)

I have all this, and much more. I want what I have—and I am not content. Why is that?
A friend told me a story years ago, about an icon he once had on his wall. Someone came to the room where the icon was hanging and noticed it. The visitor admired the artwork and expressed his desire to have one like it one day—and my friend felt defensiveness rise in his heart: Well, you can’t have this one!

Instead of hearing the visitor’s remarks as a compliment, or even as small talk, he received it as a threat and a potential loss. And he realized he was attached to the thing in a way that was not healthy for his soul.


I think about that story, and as I move through my home and look at all I am blessed with—as I contemplate getting rid of a portion of my accumulated treasures—I am trying to take special note of my own heart. When I feel defensive or pained at the thought of separation from a mere thing, I try to pray into it, to see where the pang comes from.
Why? Because it’s not true that we, as Christians, cannot have nice things—but it is not good if they possess us instead.

This column is part of a new, weekly series on what the Lord is doing in my heart, specifically encouraging me to simplify my own life in order practice the virtue of charity and the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. Come back each Wednesday to read the latest!