It Isn’t Enough
My love language is gift-giving, and as such, the temptation to over-indulge in buying for others is strong. I’ve found some pretty perfect gifts in the past. I’ve picked thoughtful, intentional things that have touched the hearts of friends and family members. I’ve also totally bombed. Just ask my husband about our first Christmas as a married couple. The poor guy walked away with an NFL edition of chess and a complete DVD set of Meerkat Manor. (He doesn’t play chess, and he showed mild interest in one solitary episode of Meerkat Manor.) In my defense, he’s impossible to buy for. The man wants nothing, ever. I suppose anything would’ve been better than Meerkat Manor though. Hindsight is everything. But eventually, those gifts, no matter how perfect they were, will end up in a closet, in a yard sale, or a donation pile. (I’m pretty sure the NFL chess was in the Goodwill pile less than 24 hours later.) They’re just things. Truly the only priceless gift we can give is ourselves. I’ve come a long way with gifts for my husband. I know now he appreciates opportunities for us to spend time together more than something he can unwrap. He’d rather go to a concert or out to a favorite restaurant. This year, for his 40th, he said he wants to set up phone dates with some of his long-distance buddies. That’s it. He just wants to connect with his friends, beyond a quick text or brief check-in while commuting to work. He wants an intentional conversation. He values experiences, memories, and time together, more than anything he could find under the tree or wrapped in paper. My kids are the same way. As a shopper, this is hard for me. I feel like I need to give something tangible, buy something wonderful, to make someone feel loved. That’s what the world tells us when every holiday season rolls around, isn’t it? Giving our time, and choosing to value people over things, is countercultural.
Materialism is a faithful thorn in my side. I enjoy shopping, acquiring, and consuming, but I struggle to remember the let-down, the remorse, the hollow feeling that comes after until I’m already sitting in it. Many days I chase harder after things than I chase after God. In my lowest moments, I’ve been led to repent, to look around and see that all the stuff I bought brought me no closer to God or my family. Instead, it pulled me further away, with nothing to show for it but a stark reminder of my selfish and impatient heart. Delaying gratification is oh so hard for me. It’s in those seasons of struggle that I’m forced to face a bitter truth; I’m unhappy, not because I don’t have Jesus, but because Jesus isn’t enough for me. When I resign to discontentment, I’m essentially saying that what He’s given me, what He’s done for me, isn’t enough. I want more- more money, more stuff, to fill the emptiness I feel inside. In her book, Finding Holy in the Suburbs, Ashley Hales, pinpoints my dilemma. “We’re impatient. We seek the hit of retail therapy to replace the deep, abiding sense of belonging with the God of the universe. Consumerism isn’t just buying material things we need, rather, consumerism is a type of spirituality…Buying has become our favorite form of worship…In this worshipful space of the mall, we take off our earrings and hope they turn into gods who save- whether that’s to stave off boredom, or to feel as if we are creating a home or a body that is beautiful and inviting, or to get a rush from whatever is new, novel, and numbs our ache when all is not right with the world. We ask what we buy to save us.”
The seasons I struggle most with materialism, are the seasons in which I am not consistently communing with God. This shouldn’t come as a surprise. When we stop listening to the voice of our Savior, the voice of the world becomes much louder, seemingly impossible to ignore. We can’t pursue things, wealth, money, and pursue God at the same time. “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money,” (Matthew 6:24). Money is something we serve; it doesn’t serve us. Materialism masters us. Thankfully it doesn’t end there. The rest of Matthew 6 goes on to reassure us that God, our heavenly Father, will take care of us and meet all our needs. We don’t need to worry. Because He values me, He will provide for me. I don’t need to look to the things of this world- they can’t offer the provision that God can. Psalm 23:1 reminds me that with Him as my shepherd, I lack nothing.
Finding satisfaction in the Savior is a daily pursuit. David knew this well. “Direct me in the path of your commands, for there I find delight. Turn my heart toward your statutes and not toward selfish gain. Turn my eyes away from worthless things,” he writes in Psalm 119:35-36. Spending time in God’s word, in His presence, and at His feet, is incomparable to any high from a shopping spree or act of self-indulgence. The more I commune with Him, the less I desire anything else. He gently reminds me of everything I already have in Him, and it’s enough. Jesus offers 20/20 vision. The blurred line between what I need and what I want becomes clear as day. In Him I can live my life as He designed me to live it- free of remorse, fulfilled, content, daily relying on Him to meet my every need.
Over time, I’ve found the reward of blessing someone else to be far greater than coming home with something new for myself. Plus, I love a good excuse to go shopping, especially if it’s for others. I look forward to things like Operation Christmas Child and choosing needs from the Blessing Tree at church every December. If my kids’ teachers have a wishlist, I’m on it. If there’s a school supply drive or food collection, I’m there with bags of donations in hand. I can curb my love for shopping to benefit others, and it’s far more gratifying.
Giving is great, but giving away is even better. Last year I read through Jen Hatmaker’s book, 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess. It was a humdinger of a conviction for materialistic ol’ me. I spent a month of my summer purging anything and everything in my home that I didn’t use, wear or eat. Instead of just bagging everything up and tossing it in the trash or into one big donation bin, I researched local organizations and outreaches and divided up my offerings according to what each place specifically needed. All my dresses, professional wear, jewelry, and unopened beauty products went to a shelter for abused women- they needed items to help women prepare for job interviews and stand on their own two feet, so they wouldn’t have to rely on an abusive man to provide for them. The woman who oversaw the shelter saw my 3 garbage bags full of donations and she began to cry. No one has ever hugged me so tightly before. My formal “fancy wedding guest” dresses were given to a small shop in a low-income area of town that gives out free prom dresses to girls who can’t afford them. They said they’d never received anything so beautiful before. My heart soared. Blankets, pillows, spare suitcases, and tote bags were all given to a homeless shelter- so many of their guests spend their days carting their belongings around in flimsy plastic grocery bags. A sturdy suitcase with wheels and a fresh blanket to lay on meant everything to them. And finally, kitchenware and dishes were given to a refugee resource center, to furnish apartments for refugees seeking asylum in our city. I expected it to feel hard, painful even, to say goodbye to so many of my belongings, but it wasn’t. I don’t miss them. Not even a little bit. Those things held no value. But God, in His goodness, used my stuff, to remind those less fortunate than me how valued they are in His sight.
“Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way, they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life,” (1 Timothy 6:17-18). Life, true life, will never be found in the things of this world. Nothing will satisfy. Emptiness and remorse are all that wait for us if we look to anything but Jesus. Oh, how He is magnified when we give our time, ourselves, and our belongings in His name. There’s no greater gift we can give. John Piper said it best, “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.”
I’ve found these books to be enlightening, convicting, and life-changing when it comes to battling my struggle with materialism. I highly recommend them. Click on the links to purchase on Amazon. *No commission earned
1) 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker
2) Finding Holy in the Suburbs: Living Faithfully in the Land of Too Much, by Ashley Hales
3) Raising Grateful Kids in an Entitled World, by Kristen Welch