For the first time in a decade, I have unlimited access to a television and the glut that flows from it. I waited to turn on the telly, but once I did…I devolved… slack-jawed in front of it.
I'm so embarrassed.
Some of television is funny (the Big Bang Theory), some of it is a call to action (PBS' Half the Sky), and some of it extinguishes the precious few brain cells I have left (Home for the Holidays is the second worst movie of all time behind Barton Fink-ugh.)
And then last night while looking for financial info, I heard an advertisement for "Hoarders."
You cannot interact on planet America, without having heard about this show. Even I know that "Hoarders" features folks who have accumulated so much stuff that they can no longer live safely in their own homes…or yards…or thinking.
In the anonymous audience, we poke fun at the hoarders, pontificate, and assume we are free from such unhealthy obsessions.
But are we?
If some brave soul were to root around our spaces, what piles of crap and useless, rusted, broken down trash would they find?
What battered, toxic, broken junk would we cling to if we really let some motivated "intervener" – movie crew or not – into the junkyards in our lives?
In the moving and further down-sizing, I've encountered a few prize possessions that I have refused to give up.
The Good (the life bringers): pictures of Madi & Kenan and friends, more books than I can read today, a bottle full of shells and sand from a long-ago adventure; paints, big box of music, bucket o' tights…a picture of Howard.
The Bad & Ugly (the toxic waste): resentment, cynicism, and fear (I am afraid of the dark).
Curiously, most of my life, I've protected this toxic waste as if it were treasure. Cynicism, viceral pain, and action became prized possessions – definers of who I am.
I know folks who are legitimately hoarder-ish.
These folks evaluate their lives based on the stuff in it – fine art, tchotchkes, diplomas, wealth, adrenaline-pumping experiences (I'm prone to this one), CONTROL, good works, knowledge, people-pleasing, addictions, perfection, heckling, and people-bashing, etc.
Some of a hoarder's most prized possessions are not stuff; it's the lop-sided security derived from rotting junk that fills their lives. What we see as health hazards, hoarders see as keepers of their identity and worth. Treasure.
And like all junk – especially the junk we accumulate in our souls – the hoarded piles only repel the people we'd like to love. The danger, the stench, the control drive them away. No thrills, no applause, no accumulated junk can fill that empty lonely space.
I wonder what it would be like to have a show that approached hoarding from a real Jesus-follower perspective. Some cranky, efficient, and very loving person would roll into an intervention and call out the junk in people's lives. They'd speak life over the hoarder, do the long work of empowering the person to envision a junk-free life, and then help them do the long work of clearing out the crud. The "intervener" would offer life and life more abundant to the junk dweller.
Wait...I think there are folks like that. Or at least one "folk."
(wait for it…)
Jesus came to save us from the unholy toxic crap that we surround ourselves with – that we inherit, purchase, have thrust upon us, etc.
And there are folks – motivated by love and his Holy Spirit – who will walk into our junkyard and help us free ourselves to life. Real life. Life more abundant.
Life more abundant with meaning. Joy. Freedom. Hope. Love. Friendships.
Room to dance.
Invite him in. He and you will do the hard work of returning "life" to your living.
And it won't be easy, but it will be so worth it.
You'll see.
Ginny Owens sings about this tranformation in her song, Free. Listen up. There's hope.
