Can Things Fill an Empty Heart?
"Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness..." — Matthew 6:33
Sweet clover grows in unexpected places, sending roots deep into poor soil while producing fragrant blossoms above. Its hidden roots remind us that what sustains life is often found beneath the surface.
A number of years ago, I decided that what my kitchen really needed was a brand-new table. Now, before you imagine some broken-down piece with one leg shorter than the others, let me be clear: the old table was perfectly fine. It held meals, it held conversations, and it held the occasional stack of mail that mysteriously appeared and multiplied overnight. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that table. Yet somehow I became completely convinced that a different table would magically improve our entire lives.
You know exactly how this works. You see a picture in a magazine, online, or in a furniture store. The sunlight is perfect, the room is spotless, and the people gathered around the table appear unusually, blissfully happy. Nobody is arguing, nobody is stressing over bills, and nobody is complaining about what’s for dinner. For a brief moment, your brain tricks you into thinking that the secret to a happier, more peaceful life is hidden somewhere inside a four-piece dining room set. The trouble is, when the new table finally arrives, and you set it up, you eventually look around and discover something deeply disappointing: you still have the exact same family, the same challenges, the same worries, and—unfortunately—the same pile of papers.
I think most of us have experienced some version of that. Perhaps it wasn’t a table. Maybe it was a car, a boat, a bigger television, a remodeled kitchen, a new hobby, or a dream vacation. The details change, but the quiet hope is often the same: we believe that if we can just change something around us, we will finally feel different inside.
Jesus understood that tendency in the human heart. That is why He said:
“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” Matthew 6:33.
Notice what Jesus doesn’t say. He doesn’t say our needs are unimportant or that homes and possessions are bad. Instead, He talks about priorities—what comes first. Because whatever comes first eventually shapes everything else.
Over the years, I’ve noticed a sad pattern: sometimes people try to solve heart problems with purchases. A marriage feels distant, so they buy a new house. Life feels empty, so they buy a new car. They feel restless, so they plan another vacation. There is nothing wrong with any of those things if you actually need them. The problem comes when we expect them to do a job they were never designed to do. A house can provide shelter, but it cannot provide intimacy. A car can provide transportation, but it cannot provide purpose. A vacation can provide rest, but it cannot provide peace. Only God can fill the places in our hearts that were created for Him.
I once heard someone say, “Wherever you go, there you are.” At first, it sounded obvious, but there is immense wisdom in those five words. We often imagine that changing our surroundings will automatically change our hearts. Sometimes it helps. Often it doesn’t. Because the heart travels with us—the loneliness, the insecurity, the fear, and the dissatisfaction all come along for the ride.
The world constantly offers us quick, shiny solutions. Jesus offers something infinitely deeper. He invites us to seek the Kingdom first—not to take away our joy, but to lead us straight to the source of it. A surprising number of people spend years drinking from wells that never satisfy, then wonder why they’re still thirsty. Jesus gently points us toward living water instead.
What we hold holds us. And enough begins with trust.
So if you’ve recently bought a new piece of furniture hoping it would bring total harmony to your household, don’t worry—your table is still a lovely place to gather. Just remember that the perfect dining room set doesn’t come with a perfect family, and it certainly won’t stop anyone from arguing over who has to do the dishes.
