Pack Light, Friend
Mercy sakes, friend, the lil’ latch on that ol’ screen door is loose, the lemonade’s real cold, and there’s plenty of room for you right here on this ol’ front porch where the mornin’ sun is stretchin’ across the boards like it sho’-nuff’ paid its rent on time. So, settle in real good before your thoughts start hoppin’ around like a lil’ ol’ tree frog that done got loose in the pantry. Today we’re talkin’ about all them lil’ ol’ shiny things this ol’ world keeps danglin’ right out there before us, and goodness, this earth can sho’-nuff’ dress up temporary stuff a whole lot prettier than a county fair pie table.
1 John 2:15 says, “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.” John ain’t tellin’ us to stop lovin’ sunsets, good neighbors, or biscuits hot enough to melt butter on contact. He’s plum warnin’ us not to be givin’ our deepest affection to an ol’ world that can’t follow us into eternity.
That’s why Colossians 3:2–3 says, “Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” Friend, there’s freedom in knowin’ your real life ain’t stored in a closet, parked in a driveway, or printed on a bank statement. It’s plum hidden safely in Christ.
Then, Jesus puts the whole matter in order in Matthew 6:33: “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.” Seek Him first, and everything else gets moved into the proper cupboard. The problem starts when possessions become masters instead of tools.
Father, teach me to hold earthly things with open hands. Keep my heart from fastening itself to what cannot last. Set my mind on things above, make Your kingdom my first pursuit, and help me treasure Christ above every temporary thing. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
All right now, friend, take what Heaven gave you and leave the extra baggage stacked right over there by the porch rail. A lil’ ol’ butterfly never got airborne carryin’ a feed sack, and a creek never reached the valley by tryin’ to haul every stone along with it. Let the world keep polishin’ its trinkets. You’ve got treasure somewhere moths can’t be chewin’, rust can’t be reachin’, and movin’ trucks can’t be carryin’. So, Child of God, you head right on back into your day plum lighthearted, light handed and pointed toward that heavenly home where you’ve already been counted as a citizen.
With joy,
Gwen
