When Good Things Become Too Important
"Be on your guard against all kinds of greed..." — Luke 12:15
The red poppy is impossible to ignore. Its brilliant bloom naturally draws the eye, reminding us how easily even beautiful things can become the center of our attention.
A few years ago, I bought a small porcelain deer. It was beautiful—delicate, peaceful, and the exact sort of thing that looked perfectly at home sitting on a bookshelf. A few weeks later, I found a little porcelain fox. The fox seemed terribly lonely on the clearance shelf all by itself, so of course it belonged right next to the deer. Then came an owl that looked incredibly wise every collection needs wisdom, followed by a cardinal, another bird, and then a second deer that was somehow completely different from the first—though today I couldn’t explain exactly how.
At first, I proudly called it decorating. Eventually, I looked around and realized I had accidentally started a fully functioning wildlife preserve right in my living room. One afternoon, I sat down with a hot cup of coffee and discovered there was nowhere convenient to actually put it down. Every single available flat surface was occupied by woodland creatures. I remember laughing out loud and thinking, “Well, this may have gotten slightly out of hand.”
As I looked around the room, I found myself thinking about something Jesus said:
“Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions” Luke 12:15
For many years, I assumed greed was something that happened to other people—the wealthy businessman or the person who always wanted more. Then I began noticing how often it arrives wearing a much friendlier disguise: a hobby, a collection, or a perfectly reasonable interest that quietly grows until it occupies far more space than we ever intended.
Now, please hear me carefully. There is nothing wrong with collecting things. Some people collect figurines, books, dishes, tools, fishing gear, yarn, purses, shoes, or enough coffee mugs to serve a small congregation. The collection itself isn’t the problem. The question is whether the collection is still serving us—or whether we’ve started serving it.
Jesus was directing our attention toward our hearts. Hearts have a funny way of becoming attached. We find something we enjoy, then want a little more, then need a shelf, then a cabinet, then perhaps another shelf. Before long, we’re spending more time organizing, protecting, displaying, dusting, and thinking about our treasures than enjoying them. I once spent nearly an entire afternoon dusting decorations and ended up acquainted with every dust particle in the county—definitely not feeling joyful.
The world encourages us to build our identities around our interests, collections, accomplishments, and stuff. Jesus offers something different: He invites us to build our identity securely around Him. That doesn’t mean we stop enjoying beautiful things. Quite the opposite. It means we can enjoy them without depending on them, appreciate them without being controlled by them, and hold them lightly.
The older I get, the more I appreciate having a few things I genuinely love—a favorite book, a worn-out coffee mug, a treasured keepsake, or a photograph that brings back good memories. The trouble begins when “a few favorites” quietly snowball into “everything I can possibly squeeze onto three shelves, two cabinets, and every flat surface in the house.” The truth is that good things make terrible gods—not because they’re bad, but because they’re too small for the job. A collection can decorate a room, but it cannot satisfy a soul. A hobby can fill a rainy afternoon, but it can never fill a lonely heart. Only God can do that.
What we hold holds us. And enough begins with trust.
So if you happen to look around your living room today and discover twelve deer, six foxes, four owls, and a porcelain cardinal that absolutely cannot be separated from the owl because they’ve clearly become best friends... I’m not judging. But I do think your indoor wildlife sanctuary may be approaching maximum capacity, and those porcelain deer might start charging rent soon.
