One day, when neighbors hadn’t seen "Pastor" emerge from his home for several days, they called the police. Officers broke in, only to find a house so full of trash that the only way to get around was through an elaborate series of tunnels running through the filth. The stench was so bad that a police dive team using a breathing apparatus was called in to search for "Pastor." He was found deep inside the unholy labyrinth. Police believed Pastor's problem started when he became disoriented in a Benevolence, Finance, or Budget Church meeting and began collecting "stuff" to help meet the overwhelming needs facing the church. “Human Mole Nearly Dies of Thirst … Lost in his own Tunnels of Trash,” read the headline in the Local Times.
Sadly "stuff" most of us would call “junk” - old newspapers, magazines, old clothing, bags, books, mail, notes and lists, as well as other accumulated items (even garbage) was hoarded because he believed the church might somehow need those items in the future. His home became a dumping ground, where piles and piles of "stuff" choked out living space to a dangerous point. (It didn't take long for the clutter to start spreading onto the floors, countertops, hallways, stairwells, garage and cars. Beds become so cluttered there was no room to sleep.) Chairs become so buried there was nowhere to sit. Kitchen counters become so cluttered that food couldn't be prepared. Eventually the living space could only be accessed only by a series of narrow pathways or tunnels through the clutter.
The therapists diagnosed Pastor with "Chronic Wealth Syndrome" - a high-end "stuff" disease symptomatic of a larger and more pervasive human disease. He told the therapist that "he had been keeping all this 'stuff' since his youth - since his first pastorate." He now attends therapy twice a week while living in a white padded cell with periodic visits from his family and former parishoners. He is not living happily ever after.
NOW - the truth? In this midst of my current move & I am fearful that I may be a hoarder. I have always been able to get two cars in my garage. But where in the world did all of this "stuff" come from? It is like an endless bowl of spaghetti. I mean - I am putting "stuff" in boxes & have no answer as to how to label the box. What is it? Not sure - "stuff." I've read that people hoard things that they don't need because they are afraid of throwing away something that they might use later. I've heard that the difference between a collector and a hoarder is that collectors keep things because they give them pleasure, not because they are afraid to throw them away. Also, they are somewhat organized with their collectibles. Mmm - makes me nervous. Am I a hoarder? Will they find five hundred empty mayonnaise jars in my attic when I die even though I don't like mayo?
More alarming for me? In our Staff meeting we listened to Mark Batterson talk about "The Rich Young Ruler" (in Mark 10:22 he had "lots of stuff.") - a case study in "stuff" preventing a person from inheriting eternal life! Whoa! The larger question for me is "do I find my identity in "stuff?" All be it - "ministerial stuff." What must I do to inherit life? Get rid of your "stuff" and follow Me. Wow!
Jesus gives him a Facebook quiz on the Ten Commandments (well, at least five commandments, plus another that deals with human relationships; not the first four that deal with humans’ relationship with God), and the rich man checks all the boxes. So far, the man is perfect. “I have kept all these since my youth,” he tells Jesus. He has managed to maintain a perfect standard, at least in his own eyes, while also managing to accumulate a good deal of "stuff." ( In Hebrew thought, prosperity was associated with God’s blessing, which was the result of faithful living.) To the casual observer, this guy had it all.
If I had everything where would I put it? "Stuff" can become more of a life-choking burden than a blessing. (That's why we move every so often - to get rid of some "stuff.")
Have I become trapped in a maze of my own making? Isn't it ironic then, that Jesus uses the illustration of a camel going through the eye of a needle to talk about how hard it is for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God? Will the "stuff" that I have accumulated create an ever-narrowing pathway until, eventually, it may be impossible to squeeze my way out?
While compulsive hoarders need some serious psychological intervention, most people with "Chronic Wealth Syndrome" really need only one prescription. Jesus offers a therapeutic solution. He spells it out for the rich man: “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me." Usually that verse elicits a couple of standard responses from my soul.
On the one hand, I read it and say, “Well, thank goodness I’m not rich!” It must be someone else’s problem. Like the neighbors who walked past "Pastor's" home day after day, I might observe my own wealthy neighbors and think they’re the ones with a possession problem.
The second approach has to do with the force of Jesus’ prescription. Jesus isn’t really asking me to give up everything I have - is He? ; He’s using a "hyperbolic" metaphor. All disciples of Jesus shouldn’t really get rid of everything we own, right? Surely, this man’s problem with possessions required a much more radical intervention than I need.
Well, maybe. But Jesus’ words here seem to have a more universal application. Even the disciples caught the force of it. “Look, we have left everything and followed you,” they said to Jesus. Jesus’ advice/command to the rich man wasn’t lost on only those who had indeed done exactly what Jesus was recommending. Somehow, I expect that discipleship shouldn’t cost me that much; I think I can somehow maintain my consumerist lifestyle and still call myself a follower of Jesus. As Tom Sine writes, Western Christians seem to want “the American dream with a little Jesus overlay.”
Jesus challenges that assumption directly, and his words are convicting for me - a person who claims to be his follower. He calls me to think about how I continue to collect "stuff" and hold on to things in my own life. The question is whether I will seek health and wholeness by learning to give up my stuff when I'm asked, or whether I'll continue to cram my house and body full of the junk that our culture says I need. Only when I'm willing to let go, to see all my stuff as belonging to God, will I begin to see the light of the kingdom break through all the clutter.
The rich man was missing those first four commandments — the ones about honoring God, about making everything in my life subject to God. When I take those commandments seriously, I begin to see that my own idea of perfection is nothing compared to God’s perfection. For God, perfection and prosperity aren’t about full houses and mountains of material goods. Rather, they’re all about emptying, about giving away, about clearing the clutter and letting go of anything and everything that keeps me from finding the door to God’s kingdom.
I don't want to die in a squalid pile of junk in an ignominious end. But die I eventually will do. The question is whether I'll be found trying desperately to hold on to stuff I can’t take with me, or whether I'll be found having given the best of myself and my material blessings to the service of God, who ultimately owns it all anyway.
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