Stuff

This is what you might call a confluence.
I am about to turn 40.  I've got way too much stuff, in my life, around my middle, and perhaps even in my brain.  Things are beginning to feel crowded, and a little bit stretched like that button on the front of my shirt.
Michele and I just decided last night to pay off the remainder of the loan for our camper, so that we can try to get rid of it.  The camper, which seemed like such a good idea, has become perhaps the single biggest mistake of my adult life.  I know what you're saying: "Gee Mark, world's smallest violin playing just for you.  Some people's mistakes get them jail time, or bankruptcy, or trapped in abusive relationships."
I know it's small potatoes, but the reason I have been so afflicted by the whole camper fiasco, is that it represents not just a bad decision, it represents a spiritual failure.  It is proof, which I have to look at parked in my driveway every day, of the fact that I thought things could make me happy.  It leaks out into other areas of life: it is a debt that we really didn't need to take on, it is a source of friction between Michele and me, it is the primary reason why I have to keep a large SUV (that I like okay, except when I have to visit the gas station).
It reminds me that I am irresponsible and consumerist, and most of all it reminds me that true pleasure is usually found in simplifying things rather than getting bigger and better.  But it's a lot like learning to control my diet, which means it's an ongoing struggle, which I often lose.
Even as we made the decision to start to try and erase our folly, I started thinking about what other stuff I could accumulate in it's place.  What kind of new car could I get?  Maybe we could just get a really nice tent and still go camping!  We could use the money we've been sinking into the camper to rent a house in the Outer Banks for a week!  We could go to Europe!  You know, five guitars really isn't enough... a Stratocaster might really be just the thing...
I'm freaking hopeless.
I'm starting to get why people would just say, "To Hell with all this!" and join a monastery.
All the while, God shows me that the things I really enjoy the most, barely cost anything.  Playing the guitars I already own, taking walks (which means getting some nice shoes from time to time!  See? hopeless), sitting on the back porch of my house (okay that's not free, but you have to live somewhere), are all things that make me a lot happier than pretty much anything money can buy.
So why is materialism still such a draw?
In the old days, idols were mostly about stuff too: good harvests = material wealth, lot's of kids = cheap labor and someone to inherit all your stuff.  People worshiped idols because they promised material benefits.  Despite what certain shiny TV preachers might tell you, God really isn't big on whether or not you drive a Mercedes.  In fact, if you believe Jesus, which I do, being rich might actually be a major impediment to entering the Kingdom.  It's not because God hates rich people, it's because God has no room for their stuff.
Stuff = idols, and that is no overstatement.
Vows of poverty are not punishments, they are emancipation.
As Emerson said in his Ode to W.H. Auden, "Things are in the saddle and ride mankind."
I would like to say that, as I creep into maturity, I'm finally ready to shed the life of serving stuff, but it only seems to be getting worse.
As Michele and I were looking at paying off our camper loan, we had our bank account balances up on the screen.  Jack looked over at it and was in awe.  For a moment I saw those numbers through his eyes and thought, "yep, here we are, multi-thousandaires."  Then Michele pointed out to him how much our mortgage was every month and some of the gleam went out of his eyes, and I felt myself clench up a little bit.
As Madonna said, "We are living in a material world."
Lord, have mercy.