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assorted color sequins

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

Materialism consumes us

I hate the way it grabs my soul and screams, “I want more!”

The shiny item in the corner,

the colorful embroidery,

the empty screens with empty hope.

 

I want more,

But I don’t.

You may have heard it before,

But money doesn’t buy happiness

It only tempts you with its glassiness and shine–

I don’t have time

For this.

 

For this wasted space

For this fakeness

That if you get that t-shirt that’s destined to be yours

You’ll never be the same again.

 

“What you buy is what satisfies”—

Yes, that’s a lie,

But the truth is we’ll always be wanting

More.

 

More

To the core of me I always thought more was what I needed

And more was what I wanted—

But the truth is I’ve always wanted less.

 

And yet I’m not even saying that the motto “Less is best” is how you find perfect happiness

There’s a lot of folks in poverty

Who find themselves in misery because they can’t have more

No matter how hard they try.

 

And you know why?

The secret to your dreams isn’t what you buy

It’s how you fly despite the leftovers

Despite the broken cords or the lack of flavor.

 

It’s how you fly when you’re high

And even when you’re low

It’s how you respond when deep inside you’re screaming, “I want more!”

It’s how you say with a smile, “I have more.”

 

The secret to serenity

Is taking what you got and being content with what you have.

Because when you eat the Bread of Life and drink the blood of Christ

What you have is the only thing that will last

And you don’t need anything more.

 

“Then Jesus declared, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.'” – John 6:35 (NIV)

 

“Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” – John 6:54 (NIV)

 

 

 

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Like A Child

white and blue long sleeves striped shirt

Photo by Sidharth Sircar on Pexels.com

I remember one of the first days I experienced the joy of the Honduran children of Las Flores. Wild, sweet, overflowing joy that radiated from their faces when you so much as smiled at them.

I couldn’t engage in conversation with them very well because of my lack of Spanish, but I soon learned that they didn’t care. They hugged, laughed, and played. They ran around, creating chaos.

Beautiful chaos.

Usually I take a step backwards from a high-energy crowd, but this was different. They needed me. They needed my love.

I didn’t know enough Spanish, so I couldn’t give it in words. And what are words to children anyway? All I could do in that moment was forsake all and plunge into the chaos. And what a relief that was, breaking the language barrier with the unspoken message loud and clear: “Yo te ama,” or “I love you.”

I didn’t know them, but God gave me unrelenting love for those kids. I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t stop trying to make them smile. I chased them around, tickled them, played games, and proved to myself that I must be a kid person after all. It makes sense, I guess. God loves children, and His Spirit is inside me.

Not only did God give me love for the kids, but I learned to be a child myself that day. I learned joy. I learned childlike faith. That’s what God wants for us. When we are like children, we can rejoice in God’s love for us without a single doubt of our Father’s goodness.

Sometimes I don’t understand how God could truly love us. But even if we can’t completely understand it, like a simple child, we can understand that it makes us feel alive.

People were also bringing babies to Jesus for him to place his hands on them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” — Luke 18:15-17