Possessions and proliferation. Two “p” words, each beginning with “p” as in “problem.”
For the first to be last and the last to be first—a biblical concept for sure—I begin with “proliferation.”
I’m not talking about nuclear proliferation. That is its own “capital P” problem. Suffice it to say that I love the prophet Isaiah’s words about the time when nations will “beat their swords into plowshares” (Isaiah 2). But, sadly, in this fallen world, that time is not now.
No, the proliferation I’m thinking about has to do with—here’s that other word—possessions.
Sometimes I wonder (back to the nuclear motif), if my possessions had somehow been irradiated, they could replicate in a more mad-multiplication, cells-out-of-control, cancerous fashion? The stuff I own seems to be engaged in wild metastasis, and I think you know what that means. It means that the possessions I own are well on their way to either owning or overwhelming me. I’m afraid that I struggle to think of a venue of my life that is not over-cluttered and over-stuffed with stuff.
In my study/office at church, the first items that would catch your eye are the books. I have many of them, and I’m mostly unrepentant. Bibles and commentaries. Books by well-respected authors on many subjects. Devotional and inspirational books. Books about faith and prayer and worship. Histories. Biographies. Novels. And so much more.
I confess to owning a ton or two of books that I’ve never read, and probably won’t, but still don’t want to part with. I also confess that once, decades ago, I opened the door to that room and discovered a literal avalanche of shelves and books. My death by book tsunami would have been nothing but just. Unscathed, though, I shored up the shelves and the procuring of bookish possessions continued, even after I carted a big bunch of books to the church library.
I’m cluttering this column with too many stacked up words and thus won’t have time or space to adequately report on my garage, the motto of which is “I might need that thing, tool, whatchamacallit, widget.” Years ago, I installed there a dartboard that my family and I have very much enjoyed. But the first problem was that no bare wall was available. Even then, I needed a possession proliferation workaround, so I engineered a “drop the dartboard down from the ceiling” arrangement.
Oh, and I should mention my home office (more avalanche danger), my shed/greenhouse (more “I might need that”), and my closet (quite cluttered). I will say that, just as I was writing this, my wife called me toward that latter space and reported finding a bunch of now-again-wearable jeans and pants that I’d thought we’d long ago given away after a period of my personal expansion. So, it’s good to have at least one sentence here pointing to something positive related to possession proliferation. But the fact that those were lurking in the inner recesses of a closet we’d already searched doesn’t say much praiseworthy about our stuff-stacking tendencies.
It’s small comfort, but I’m sure we’re in good (or bad) company in a society where lots of folks have way too much stuff. Maybe that’s good news if you own a storage business. You’ll work hard, but you’ll never run out of customers.
But the bad news for most of us is that what we own can quickly own us, that much of what we own isn’t really worth the trouble it takes to own it, that a lot of what we own is junk, and that having all of the spaces of our lives cluttered is literally depressing. And those are just a few of the very real problems associated with possession proliferation. We really should consider some moves toward non-proliferation.
A few simple words of Christ are far better than all of mine: “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, because one’s life does not consist in an abundance of possessions” (Luke 12:15).
Copyright 2024 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.