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- Written by: Don Goulding
Now godliness combined with contentment brings great profit. For we have brought nothing into this world and so we cannot take a single thing out either. (1 Timothy 6:6, 7)
I walked past a line of patients waiting outside our makeshift dental clinic in Zimbabwe. Inside, the dentist aimed a flashlight and a needle into an open mouth. A kitchen chair and some extraction tools completed the operating theater.
In rural Africa, there’s no money for prevention or fillings. When a tooth hurts, it’s extracted. After the last patient, the dentist showed me a tub of seventy-nine teeth pulled that day.
Those patients had waited for the rare opportunity when a dentist would help them without full payment. That meant there were many Africans normally living with elevated tooth pain, and yet they were always cheerful when I met them on the bush paths.
This is a primary difference between African Christians and me. They are diligent in spiritual arenas and passive with earthly circumstances. I’m the opposite—nonchalant about spiritual matters and outraged by physical brokenness. Given the chance to exchange their spiritual wealth for physical prosperity, I believe most native disciples would refuse. They know the importance of what they have, and don't have.
Materialism robs me of the African’s simple contentment. I have a hard time learning that less is more. I need less entertainment and more Spirit filling, fewer possessions and deeper relationships. The less must come before the more, and my old nature doesn’t want to accept that order.
I need to go African. If the poor natives can take their broken circumstances, together with God’s promises, and thrive, then so can I. Push my heartaches into a pile, then let me clap and boogie around them, African style. Let’s celebrate together because our God redeems.
Prayer: Jesus, teach my heart true contentment.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For there is more to life than food, and more to the body than clothing. (Luke 12:22, 23)
During our early years of marriage, Dani and I lived in rental houses. Later we owned our homes. While owning generally has long-term financial benefits, it also comes with concerns for mortgages, maintenance, and taxes. As a renter, I wasn’t anxious about how the neighbor’s abandoned cars lowered my equity, or about fixing the roof. All that was the landlord’s problem.
Living for God makes him the landlord and me the renter. I’m unqualified to handle the worries of owning life. I need a simpler code of existence. I can trade a thousand concerns for one rent payment of pleasing Jesus. Instead of juggling anxieties for friends, health, and job security, listening to the Spirit of Jesus becomes my one uncomplicated payment. Everything else is his responsibility.
Renters travel light. This life is only a brief encampment, and we don’t invest in additions that will be left behind when we move. Instead, we focus on improvements, like integrity and charity, that can be packed up and taken with us.
Renters also know the equity accrues to the Lord. The assets and resources aren’t ours. Anything achieved in his service belongs to him. It all came from him, and it returns to him.
Ownership is too exhausting. I have to fret about the dilapidation in my life, and struggle to pay for each mistake. I’d rather admit bankruptcy, then move into his real estate, free of sanctimonious works. His righteousness is a first-rate accommodation, and staying in his joy is like living on permanent vacation.
The time I save by not owning life is much better spent praising my Landlord.
Prayer: Jehovah Jireh (God Provides), take ownership of all I am.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Do not love the world or the things in the world … the world is passing away with all its desires, but the person who does the will of God remains forever. (1 John 2:15-17)
Baby Jordan was nine months old from conception, and she was still in the womb. She already recognized her mother’s singing and stroking her through the belly. Sucking her thumb while listening to “mamma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird” was a favorite pastime. Her love for that song would follow her after her birth into the world.
When the water left and Jordan felt cold air spreading over the crown of her head, she clung to the comforts of her known existence. She had to be compelled to enter what others mistakenly call the beginning of life.
I’ve grown to love my world. I’m keenly attached to activities, people, and memories. I know what I like, and I like what I know. I resist the change that death brings. Like Jordan, I’ll have to be compelled to move beyond what I call life.
The difference between pre- and postnatal life is enormous—so much light, color, and reality now, compared to what was in the womb. A much larger expansion will overtake me in heaven.
My ultimate birthday is coming. A failing body and slipping mind mark the onset of labor. When my heart stops, I’ll enter the birth canal, and then life.
Jordan had nothing to fear by entering this world, and I have nothing to fear by leaving it. As she carried her developing traits beyond the womb, so I shall bring everything accomplished in Christ to paradise for larger purposes. There’s much more ahead, more to experience, more to understand, and more work to complete for Christ.
It’s time to prepare for ultimate birth, time to embrace what’s beyond this dark cramped place.
Prayer: Lord, set the desires of my heart on you and your home.