Problems with Possession Proliferation

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.

Honoring Those Whose Work Honors Christ

I have often found myself in need of a clever quotation and am happy to report that the internet usually makes such a search relatively simple.

If one is looking for a pithy turn of phrase, a quick search for G.K. Chesterton quotes will dig up gold with very little difficult mining needed at all.

Want words wonderfully crafted to make us think about faith and promote digging more deeply into the foundational truths of the Christian faith and how to live it out in our lives? My own “go to” list of such authors is so lengthy that I hesitate even to begin to share it. I immediately think of names like C.S. Lewis and George MacDonald. Some of my favorite wordsmiths in this category are even still alive. Something good can always be found from the pen of Philip Yancey, Max Lucado, and many more.

But my most recent search was a completely new experience. I was looking for some words from practitioners of a very honorable and essential trade. If you need a brain surgeon, you probably need one very badly. But I suggest that in more usual and everyday situations, most of us might more likely find ourselves in urgent need of a plumber.

My search leads me to believe that most plumbers are far too busy with their very useful business to feel a need or have leisure to write much about it, though I bet most of them have some great stories to tell. From a financial standpoint, too, practicing such an essential trade is a more reasonable pursuit than lining up words. Very few folks dial the phone in a feverish rush: “Quick! I’ve got a problem at the house, and I need an English major to write a 1000-word essay to stuff into a leaking sink drain!”

All of this aside, I think you’ll likely search in vain for quotations from famous plumbers. Most are too wise to desire to be famous and too busy with their truly exhausting work and crazy calls-at-all-hours schedules to spend a lot of time on other pursuits.

So, I changed my search parameters a bit and quickly discovered—no surprise—that plumbing practitioners are by no means lacking in good-humored witticisms.

“A good flush beats a full house.”

“We’ll repair what your husband fixed.”

“Professional, affordable, and we always leave the seat down.”

“If it weren’t for us, you’d have no place to go.”

“Plumbers have pipe dreams.”

“We’re number one in the number two business.” (Sorry.)

What, you may ask, has sent you exploring the drains in this direction?

Well, if I were a pagan, though I’d not be at church, I’d say that at ours we’ve evidently offended the gods of plumbing. Not being a pagan, I simply believe that the warranty (if there ever was one) on our old plumbing in our old church building has evidently expired, and it’s time to pay the piper. (Note the subtle reference to pipes.) This or that little leak, a stoppage and over-flowage, a trap or two that have quit trapping water, and even the discovery of a mysterious drain all add up to be no fun. Could it be worse? Oh, yes, but let’s not talk about such.  

But the plumbing siege has brought up in my mind some realities that are always true but worth mentioning.

I’m reminded that in our communities, we are blessed when we have people whose very different talents and expertise we all need. 

I’m reminded of how much genuine respect I have for anyone who is a master of a trade and probably has forgotten more about it than I will ever know. I honor that.

And I’m particularly thankful to have friends in my community who capably ply all sorts of trades and professions but who do so with good will and integrity. I may not like the situation (leaky pipes are just one example), but I respect my friends whose genuine expertise is matched only by their character. I may not be happy about the situation that’s forced my call, but I know they’ll tell me the truth, be fair with me, and do very well the job I need done.

The Apostle Paul told us long ago, “Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus” (Colossians 3:17). What a sweet blessing to know so many folks, many friends, who, whatever their job, do exactly that and honor their Lord. That makes me happy to honor them, and I do.

Text 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.

“In the Bleak Mid-winter”

“In the bleak mid-winter / Frosty wind made moan,” writes the English poet Christina Rossetti in her 1872 poem.

The poem, which she called “A Christmas Carol,” is one we usually call by its first line, as we do the song(s) written upon which to hang her sweet lyrics. I love the lyrics and the melodies, particularly Gustav Holst’s tune that was paired with the words a few decades after Rossetti penned them. (It’s fun to check out various versions and recordings on the internet.)

The poet praises God for the Incarnation and goes on to paint word pictures that morph in my mind into images even better than those boasted by the most beautiful Christmas cards. Stables, complete with oxen and camels. A manger-crib with a blanket of hay. A sky filled with angels and archangels.

All of Heaven, including “cherubim and seraphim,” join amazed shepherds in adoration. Mary tenderly worships her Baby, her Lord, “with a kiss.” What a sweet gift!

Most of us have at times almost battered our brains trying to think of exactly the right gift for a family member or friend, and the speaker in this poem laments facing that difficulty in the extreme. She knows who this Baby is. She sees the worship and the worshipers. She wants to join them in giving. She longs to give exactly the right gift, but what, in her poor circumstances, does she have to give?

For shepherds, she says, a lamb would be most fitting. We know, of course, that such would be utterly appropriate and filled with meaning. “Behold,” John the Baptizer would later exclaim, “the Lamb of God!”

The speaker is certainly aware of the Wise Men who will come bringing precious gifts. They brought gold and frankincense and myrrh. Were she numbered with them, she opines, she would be more than willing to join them by “doing [her] part.”

But she’s not a shepherd. She’s wise, I think, but she is not an “official” Wise Man. So, what, given who she is and what she possesses, is her part, her gift? What from her could ever be a fitting gift for the Baby, God in the flesh?

Does she make a long search? Does she scribe a lengthy list of possible presents for the Christ child? Or does she just suddenly know exactly what the perfect gift, the most truly appropriate gift, the most precious gift must be?

What can she give him? She knows. And she pledges. She will give her heart.

The season of Christmas has passed. Even if you enjoy observing the whole twelve days, well, it’s over. One more year, as the decorations have come down and been relegated to boxes in the attic or under the stairs, I find myself bemoaning what, without sparkling lights and heartwarming songs and more-than-usual good-spirited cheer, is a post-Christmas mid-winter. I admit that “bleak,” to me, is not too strong a word.

The weather is working to do its part, as temperatures are dropping, wind is blowing (I find that part particularly bleak), and record-setting cold is testing our infrastructure and maybe even, to some extent, our spirits.

But again I turn to a precious thought embedded in Rosetti’s sweet poem portraying a “bleak mid-winter” complete with “frosty wind.” In this life, we understand more than we wish about “bleakness” and moaning. Of course, we’ve just celebrated Christ’s first coming. But part of the deep joy for people of faith is looking forward to the time when he comes again “to reign.”

The first coming. The second coming. Yes, thank you, Lord! But, for anyone at any time willing to give the most precious gift, their very heart, the Savior’s “reign” begins right now, right here. And what Christ gives his people makes all the difference in the “bleak mid-winter” and what can be a cold world.

What can I give him? I’m glad I know.  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.

Thinking About a Non-riddle Riddle

Where do you find a good riddle when you need one? On at least two recent occasions as I’ve begun writing this column, I’ve wished I could begin by grabbing a good riddle and deftly tucking it in to the first paragraph.

Two problems. The first has to do with “deftly.” I get many opportunities to line up words. Most of the opportunities have nothing to do with riddles—unless I muddle them up so much that they morph into such. But “deftly” often eludes me.

The second problem is that, though you can do an internet search and find a few million riddles, writing a good one yourself is surprisingly difficult. The more you try, and the more you look into the whole subject, the more you find out how complex it is.

When I think about riddling, I love to recall the classic contest J.R.R. Tolkien portrayed in The Hobbit between his great characters, Bilbo Baggins and Gollum. A simple but rather elegant example: “A box without hinges, key, or lid, / Yet golden treasure inside is hid.” And the answer is… Well, wait just a bit.

For the moment, I present for you no real riddle here at all. But just consider a few words and look for something they have in common. Who knows? You might later come up with a great riddle.

Snowflakes. Bricks. Debts. Clutter. Pounds. Firewood. Email. 

You’ll soon see that a multitude of words fit the category I have in mind. You may have unraveled my non-riddle riddle words already, but I’ll add two more words that seem particularly appropriate to me right now: years and thoughts.

Since my birthday is in January, just a few days from now, I may be primed a bit to think about the passing of years. I remember that, as a teenager, I did a little math (the only kind of math I ever do) and determined that I’d very likely live to see the year 2000, but that I’d be pretty old by then.

I’m fond of sharing a paraphrased Bible verse with friends on their birthdays: “Now Barzillai was old and advanced in years” (2 Samuel 19:32). A more serious and precious verse is the prayer of the psalmist, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12). I’ve been told, by the way, that the last sermon my father preached was on this latter text. He lived it. Wisely.

Now, regarding “thoughts,” the Apostle Paul wisely encourages us to stack up in our minds the kinds of thoughts that can be described as true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy. “Think about such things,” he writes (Philippians 4:8).

The answer, you may remember, to the Bilbo-to-Gollum riddle I mentioned earlier is “an egg.” Or, as Gollum puts it, “Eggses!”

I’ve listed nine words as clues to my non-riddle. And I now reveal (drum roll) that the category is “Things That Stack Up.” You can probably easily think of a slew of other words that fit. Of course, I’ll think of a dozen more as soon as I send this.

At present, what do you think about making a serious effort to put into practice the Apostle Paul’s counsel about what we should think about? For my part, I can hardly think of anything that will bless us more as we stack up years.

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.