The Things You Own Cannot Protect You
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth..." — Matthew 6:19
Black-Eyed Susans thrive in open prairies, standing tall through wind, rain, and summer heat. Their strength comes not from shelter or protection but from the way they were designed to grow—a quiet reflection of the security found in trusting God.
My friend Melinda once bought a beautiful velvet couch. It really was gorgeous—the kind of furniture that makes people stop in their tracks and say, “Well, look at you being all fancy.” There was only one problem: Melinda also owned two very hairy dogs. Within a single week, every stray dog hair in the county appeared to have signed a legally binding lease agreement with that velvet fabric. Visitors came over and admired the elegance; Melinda just stood there with a lint roller in hand. One afternoon, she laughed and said, “I don’t own this couch anymore. The couch owns me.”
We both laughed, but there is a surprising amount of wisdom hidden inside that joke. Sometimes the things we buy to make life better slowly begin demanding our absolute devotion in return. Now, don’t misunderstand me. There is nothing wrong with a nice couch or enjoying beautiful things. God filled the world with beauty, and there is no virtue in pretending otherwise. But there is a massive difference between owning something and depending on it, and that difference is exactly where Jesus directs our attention.
In the Sermon on the Mount, He said:
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal” Matthew 6:19.
When I was younger, I thought of that verse strictly as a warning against greed. The older I get, the more I realize it’s actually a warning about misplaced trust, because every earthly treasure shares one frustrating thing in common: it can be lost. Things wear out, break, become outdated, or flat-out disappear. Anything that can be lost makes for a pretty terrible foundation for lasting peace.
I learned this lesson the hard way through a pair of pristine, blindingly white sneakers. They looked incredibly cool in the store, and I felt quite sophisticated putting them on. Then I stepped outside. Suddenly, I wasn’t enjoying my walk; I was managing my footwear. I spent the entire afternoon worrying about puddles, obsessing over wet grass, and stressing about scuff marks. The shoes weren’t making me feel secure; they were just giving my brain one more exhausting project to manage. And don’t even get me started on that “dry clean only” jacket from years ago that turned every coffee run into a high-stakes mission.
The problem, of course, wasn’t the shoes—or the jacket. It was what was happening inside my heart. Whether it’s an object, a bank account, or a carefully curated lifestyle, we tell ourselves that if we can just hold onto it and protect it, we’ll finally feel safe. But we are trying to get permanent peace from temporary things, and temporary things were never designed for that job.
Jesus understood that there is a vast difference between preparing for tomorrow and trying to control tomorrow. One is wisdom, while the other is just plain exhausting. Whenever we start feeling anxious, we usually discover we are gripping a plan or an outcome too tightly. But while everything else eventually changes, God remains. When we place our trust in the Father, our hands open up, and our hearts become a little more free.
What we hold holds us. And enough begins with trust.
So, if you happen to be sitting on a velvet couch right now surrounded by pet hair, please don’t take this personally. Just consider it a gentle reminder to hold your stuff lightly—and maybe invest in a good vacuum.
