Christian Living

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I don't own very much. At the beginning of August, I packed everything I own into a Toyota Corolla and moved to Florida, where I live in a ten-foot by ten-foot bedroom with no closet. I'm not trying to toot my own horn mere, merely establishing the fact that when I say I have very few belongings, I really mean it.

Because of that, I've always felt a little disappointed when The Church of Life would head up to downtown Orlando once a month to minister to homeless people there. Everyone else would take the clothes and shoes they didn't want anymore, while I have nothing that I don't already wear once a week or more. I guess it's a good thing that I even had the desire to give my stuff away, but it was still frustrating to be unable.

That is, until last month, when I was getting ready for bed the night before Homeless Saturday and happened to look under my bed and see my favorite blanket. I had bought it about five years before, on a missions trip to Mexico. I made three such trips, and they were major events in my life - I met lifelong friends, learned the value of community, and got closer to God than I ever had before. The blanket was a souvenir from a different time in my life, a vulnerable time when I was dealing with all the dark things inside of me, a visual reminder of the tornado of thoughts and feelings that had wound their way through my head over those three trips. I treasured the memories, and I treasured the blanket, as a tangible reminder of those days.

Then I thought, "Hey, I could give that blanket away."

I don't know how to describe what happened next, other than that it felt like I was arguing with myself. I was simultaneously having two sets of thoughts: reasons why I should give the blanket away, and reasons why I couldn't. The reaction was visceral; I couldn't part with this memento of such a significant time. But, if you recall, I found the thing under my bed. My "most valuable," "favorite" blanket was so valuable to me that I hadn't used it, hadn't even laid eyes on it, in the four months after I moved. It had just sat there under my bed, collecting dust. But I couldn't make myself part with it. It was amazing to me how much of a hold this inanimate object on me, and how important it was for me to simply have it in my possession - more important than the idea of helping someone else who could actually use it.

Before I went to sleep I did take it, and another cheap fleece blanket that I didn't use, and put them by the door to take with me. The next morning, I hauled it up to Mt. Zion Baptist Church in downtown Orlando and set it on the table with the other blankets and jackets. I was due to lead some praise music and then teach from the Bible that morning, so the blanket temporarily left my mind while I sat down to prepare.

A few hours later, when the church service was done and all the homeless folks had been served a hot meal, I wandered back over to the table, hoping that my blanket might not have been taken. Of course it had been, though the other one I'd brought was still there. God has a sense of humor, I think.

That night, back in my bed, I was thinking about how cold it was going to get that night, and I was glad that someone was going to be warmer because I'd given that blanket away. But I still didn't feel good about myself, because it upset me that an object had possessed such a hold on me. Sentimentality had almost kept me from giving away a possession - one that I didn't even use! - to someone who needed it.

I don't understand why belongings have such a hold on people. I'm sure that if I wanted to, I could give away even more. I'm equally sure that most people reading this could as well. But we don't. Why? What is it about things that makes us feel so attached to them?

I don't know the answer. But I see the effects. It's a shame on all Christians that homelessness, poverty, and hunger should exist at all in a nation so absurdly wealthy. I think it says a lot about the state of Christianity in this country. If God doesn't have control of our money or belongings, I wonder how much control he can really have over our hearts.

God has been steadily lessening the hold that belongings have over me, first by forcing me to give away everything that wouldn't fit into a Corolla, and then by giving me a job so modest that I live below the poverty line. Yet even still, the thought of giving away a blanket - not a television or a thousand dollars, but a blanket I had bought for five dollars - still made me hesitate.

I think God wants to do something big in the United States. I think he gave us the money and belongings that he's given us for a purpose, a purpose much greater than our own comfort. Every dollar that we we earn and everything we buy is an invitation to be greater than ourselves, to make a difference in someone's life, for one cold night or for a lifetime, or even for eternity.

If the cost of admission to all that is my favorite blanket, it's a price I'm more than happy to pay. I hope you're willing to do the same.

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