Possessed by Possessions
Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-socks-on-white-paper-4569289/
It was a high school Spirit Week, and the theme for the day was “Dress Like Your Future Career.” My intention was to become a bestselling fantasy author, but I had no idea how that meant I was supposed to dress. Frankly, I don’t remember if I dressed any differently than normal that day because my idea of being a successful author meant I could wear whatever the heck I wanted to.
So it wasn’t what I wore that day that stuck out to me. It was what a couple of my friends wore. They came to school in business casual, wearing button-down shirts. One wore a chain necklace that gave him a slightly “gangster” look. I asked them both what they were dressed up as. They said, “CEO.”
I asked why they were both interested in being corporate executives. Their responses surprised me:
“Because people are controlled by their possessions and the best way to influence the world is to be people who sell those possessions to them.”
It caught me off-guard, partly because it sounded so cynical and darkly ambitious. It was an edgy influencer manifesto in the years before influencers really became a thing.
I’d never really thought about the idea of being owned by possessions, though, partly because I come from a family where thriftiness is a virtue. My parents were always trying to get rid of things, not buy the latest and greatest stuff. We didn’t get a flatscreen TV or high-speed internet until the late 2000’s, and that was mainly because the TV and internet we already had weren’t working properly anymore.
As a young adult, I went the opposite way from thriftiness. I wanted to impress people with the things I had, and I wanted to feel special because I had those things. I wrote a blog last year about my “dragon sickness” and how I’ve been in a long-term season of trying to overcome it.
Recently, I’ve started to admire people who live with less. They don’t necessarily live spartan or monk-like lives, but they’re able to do more good and be more generous partially because they exercise discipline over the material things they allow to take up room in their homes and in their spirits. One of those people is actually my housemate, a friend who’s trying to help me in the journey towards owning less.
I’ve felt different desires recently, ones that reminded me of the above story. I desire to not be controlled or induced into anxiety by the things I own. I don’t want to be tricked into buying something I don’t actually need. I don’t want to be convinced to want something I didn’t want before by someone whose main goal is a bottom line, not my personal well-being.
I desire the ability to discern more accurately between wants and needs. I desire the ability to more easily find the boundary between enjoying the material blessings of my life and overindulging in them.
These are tricky balances to strike, ones most of the rest of the world has no intention of helping with. But it’s necessary, I think, if I’m to live a fulfilling life. Especially when it comes to considering the future.
Whenever I think about the fact that I will likely move out of my current home one day, I think, “I don’t want to take all this stuff with me.”
Whenever I think about where God might lead me along the path of obedience and discipleship, I think, “I want to be able to go when He says go and not worry about what’s going to happen to my stuff.”
Whenever I think about my physical mortality—which happens a lot more than it used to because I know a lot of people who are severely sick or who have died young—I think, “I don’t want my family to have to worry about how they’re going to deal with all the stuff I leave behind.”
I won’t be possessed by my possessions. I intend to possess what I need, and some things I find joy in, but also do so with open hands. It’s hard, but if what I’ve heard about such a lifestyle is to be believed, it’s worth every moment.