With a sigh of relief I answered the door. The short Japanese man hauled one after another of heavy containers into our small entrance way. He huffed and puffed as he dabbed the sweat dripping down his face with a towel kept around his neck. Our bags had arrived. All the way from the U.S. our luggage had made it, safe and sound. Another testimony to God and His travel mercies. All those bins and suitcases represented hours of shopping and stacks of cash. Relief and thanksgiving filled my heart. I sighed deeply and thanked God for giving back to me what I thought we had lost.
Standing in the airport just a few days before we had waited for our 2nd standby flight. The agent said that our bags hadn't shown up. They were still somewhere in our departure city. Would those bins and suitcases follow us across the ocean even though we had made an unscheduled stop-over to try to catch a less crowded flight? Worry started to fill my heart.
I quickly felt convicted. Where was my treasure? In those green plastic bins and well-used suitcases? I wondered if I was holding those possessions too dear? All summer I had listed, planned and shopped to get a mired of things on our "need" and "want" list; everything from baking soda to tea bags, from playing cards to the boy's Christmas stocking stuffers and piles and piles and piles of clothes and shoes.
For not being a shop-till-you-drop kind of gal, I admit that I enjoyed shopping in the U.S. this summer. I loved the bright colors and unique styles. I loved scouring for just the right item for a fraction of the cost, stretching our few dollar as far as possible. Nestled amidst all the necessities like socks, books, jeans, shirts, medicine and vitamins, were extras; extras like: contacts, candles, pretty dishes, colorful towels, a handful of vibrant patterned fabric, as well as granola bars and sugar-free mint gum. Every square corner of each bag was packed tight, to the very last pound.
If God took all that away, if our luggage never showed....how would my heart be? Where was my treasure? The very same temptation of materialism that I think often strangles the comfortable America church was now enclosing it's gnarly fingers around my own heart. I knew God was asking me if I would let it go; if I would give back to Him what He had graciously given me. I quietly prayed, "Ok, Lord, if you don't let our luggage arrive; if you take all that stuff away, it's really ok. Because it's just stuff. It's Your stuff."
