BVOV Magazine 2013 - present

Christians by the church-loads live in continual frustration because they don’t have the cash to dress, drive or vacation in the same kind of luxury their friends do. They mortgage themselves into misery, buying their way into upscale neighborhoods. Then they’re eaten up with embarrassment because they don’t have as much stuff as everyone else on the block. What’s up with that? My answer may surprise you. Unlike some, I don’t think the problem lies with our affluent society. I don’t believe that Christians have simply been seduced by a covetous culture. Nor do I believe we can rediscover the secret of contentment by adopting a more austere lifestyle. I don’t buy the idea that we can become less materialistic and more spiritually satisfied by wearing cheaper clothes, driving cheaper cars and vacationing in tents in the backyard. In other words, I’m not anti-stuff. I’m actually in favor of it. I like it. I like nice cars and homes. I really like nice motorcycles. And I don’t mind saying so because I don’t believe those things are the problem. The problem is we’ve fallen for a lie. We’ve gone after stuff (in the form of things, money, status, success, et cetera) like a dog goes after a bone, because we’ve swallowed the same deception the dog does. We’ve believed that such bones could satisfy our inner hunger. People want stuff like dogs want bones. That’s what we’ve thought. But here’s the hitch. Dogs don’t really want bones. Dogs want meat. They’ve settled for bones. So have we. In our quest to live an abundant life, we’ve settled for scraps. We’ve chased, chewed on and coveted things that—although there’s nothing wrong with them—were never meant to fulfill the hunger in our hearts. We’ve fed on crumbs and stayed famished. Yet, all the while, our heavenly Father has a banquet table prepared for us. It’s piled high with enough soul-satisfying goodness to take us from here to eternity. And there’s a chair with our name on it—sitting empty! The solution to the problem seems so obvious it’s a wonder so many Christians miss it. But multitudes do. Maybe that’s because they’ve been taught by well-meaning ministers that God’s feast is in heaven and they can’t enjoy it until they get there—which would be fine if folks were planning to die or be raptured right away. But most of them aren’t. I’ve noticed when I minister that if I ask who’s looking forward to heaven, hands fly up all over the congregation. People smile and cheer and wave. But when I ask if they want to go right now, the hands drop and the place goes silent. It seems that as hungry as believers might be for a satisfying life, if they have to pass through the pearly gates to get it, they’d rather wait and deal with their dissatisfaction some other way. JAN '14 : BVOV : 25

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