Dr. Jones went to amazing lengths to secure museum artifacts. He braved snakes, Kate Capshaw's incessant screaming, Thuggee cultists, eyeball soups, German inquisitors, CGI-created fire ants, a precocious Korean child and even George Lucas. But one thing remained--Dr. Jones's sense of adventure was the one thing he cherished, the one thing he he treasured. Those that opposed Dr. Jones were always portrayed as snarling, greedy comic-book inspired villains. The nefarious Dr. Belloq who was in bed with the Nazi's or Mola Ram, who literally embedded his hand in the hearts of men; treasured their own power and possessions over the integrity of Dr. Jones. True as well, each artifact that sent Dr. Jones tumbling from a rolling boulder inevitably was followed by henchmen, villagers and scoundrels who valued the riches beyond the relic. The audience only saw the treasure's importance through Harrison Ford's transfixed gaze. If my son were holding any of the props now he'd have it buried in a toy box within hours. Someone on one of those pawn shows would have been haggling over the price in hopes of financing their dream vacation. A villager would shoot a blow dart in your neck just to get it back.
But treasures are relevant to the user. How many of us know someone, maybe even ourselves, that hold on to antiques and heirlooms in hopes of breaking the bank one day? At our Life Group this Friday, we were asked about the one thing we would move heaven and earth to retrieve if were lost. The obvious answers are our kids, our spouses, but I think what the question really wanted us to admit were the things in our lives that hold hostage our time, the things we stress out over the most. I confessed that my iPhone and BBQ pit were 2 possessions lately that consumed my time and thought. Sometimes it's my laptop, other times it's losing my wallet. Worry seeps in too. Is it worry that keeps me nervous for the entire 6 hour or longer roasting of meat? Is it worry that keeps me reaching for my phone, looking for that one "like" of confirmation, that one retweet that will compliment my life?
I know by this time in the blog I'm blessed to have minute, trivial worries. I am blessed to not be battling sicknesses. The bills sometimes cause some undue stress and that's also a lesson in my own spending habits. But the dumb things I worry about expose my sin more that ever, and it's apparent that God meant for me to hear them.
Like food. This past week I fell into the old trap of allowing food to dictate my mood. My wife makes lunch for the both of us every day (one of the perks of working together) and chose a spinach-apple salad for lunch one day. I wanted meat (which incidentally I had some steak left over anyways) and something more substantial. I made faces over her homemade sweet, honey-induced dressing. I threw a tantrum like a married man does, I stomp away and sigh. Then again during the week I made a comment here or there about what dinner consisted of. Here's my poor wife, treasuring me and the family by making dinner for us, and me complaining.
But worry is like that. Even when you presumably have nothing to worry about, it finds a way to seep back into your existence. I have parents at work worrying about how they're going to feed their kids next week when the government subsidies fold under the weight of this current shutdown. My friend is one of 2 working at the local airbase while the rest of the group is on furlough.
I believe some of the worry we carry as Americans is from the constant barrage of fear and consumption provided by the media and advertisers. Culture has placed these new norms on our lives, like a new car, 401K's, retirements in Tuscan villas and you-deserve-it vacations (anyone find it ironic all these Carnival Cruise ship fiascoes seem to be happening more and more?) and credit card purchased rewards. While our Protestant work ethic has given way to TGIF and I-hate-Monday mantras, the jobs that used to sustain our grandparents are no longer available. I hear from many Ohioans (Texans were different, but that's probably more cultural than anything) about how their dads retired from jobs they held longer than most marriages. Those jobs just aren't around anymore. Thus, the worry of upgrading our homes, the bombardment of bad news from tv and our own self-conscious feelings of inadequacy on all fronts feeds this constant worry.
True as well, men have always valued money. Greed was alive in well in Jesus' time and our own. We'll line up at the Gulfgate mall movie lines for hesit movies, gangster flicks, wall street hustle films and stories about addictions. But living a Kingdom driven life means we should treasure the things God treasures. Just think about the inception of Adam in the garden. God spoke all the world in existence. But for man he chose to mold him from mud. He breathed life into him. The birth of Eve is even more breath-taking. He chose to mold her from a man. That takes not only precision of a deity but the compassion of a maker.
One of my friends from group asked, "Am I building a fortress around my relationship with God?" The creator who took his time when he made us, perfectly in one shot, who chose us before we even existed knows our heart better than anyone. He knows we worry about so many trivial things, the useless belongings and aches of the world. But he loves us too much to simply let us be. He nags with love. He knows that once we find the treasure that counts we'll understand. I found a glimpse of that in an Oklahoma wheat field. I am beginning to see that in the glimpse of people I don't even know. Amid the lesson plans, bills, laundry and laziness, the yearn of God's heart beats on. So, what's there to worry about?
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