“A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.”
~ Henry David Thoreau
There is an old chair that was my grandfather’s that he used to keep in his closet when I was a lad. For many years, even before I was born, he used it in his closet to be able to sit down and put his shoes on. Later in life, I recall him making mention that it was also his prayer chair, especially on the Lord’s Day while preparing to head to church to preach or some other pastoral duty he was called to. Somewhere along the line, this old wooden chair was passed down to me and now sits at my desk. As I sit here this evening writing to you, a flood of memories comes upon me with the provoking question that I am pondering: “What is special about ordinary things?”
As I reflect back on the memories of this old chair that my grandfather once sat in, the more I come to the realization that it isn’t exactly what ordinary things you may possess, but the memories that you hold with the ordinary tangible gifts, and also the gifts that you have been given to steward well. Every good and perfect gift is from above, not only the salvation given to man through the perfect work of Jesus Christ, but also the ordinary gifts of God’s providence that He graciously gives His children.
I believe that a man in this world becomes truly rich when he reaches the place of contentment that so many men long for and seldom seem to ever reach because they are chasing the wrong goals and things in this world. When a man can come home to a loving family and count the small circle of trusted friends that he has and say with all honesty, “If the Lord saw fit to remove from me my home, my job, and my possessions, then I will still truly be at peace in this world because the One who holds my soul is still the One that holds tomorrow.”
One of my favorite books is Pilgrim’s Progress, written by John Bunyan. Bunyan writes how Pilgrim was looking for the Celestial City and, forsaking his home and all worldly possessions, sought out this long and dangerous journey to his King’s country, fully trusting in his Master to lead him and provide to him all that he needed. I am fully convinced that we would do well to have the same school of thought as Pilgrim had: that we would hold loosely everything that we own while also treasuring what the Lord has given us, trusting in His providence to lead and provide for our every need.
Holding something loosely does not mean treating it without care. Perhaps it means the opposite. Because something has been entrusted to us rather than truly belonging to us, we have reason to tend it well and leave it for the next generation. A man who is truly rich and at peace with himself will govern the possessions that have been given to him and treasure them well, whether that be the dining table where a warm meal is shared with your spouse on a blissful, cool September evening or an old clock that is hanging on the wall that, if given the chance, could tell stories of itself with the passing of time.
While most people will see ordinary things as anything less than spectacular and will define wealth by how much is in your bank account or by the tangible possessions that make a house a house instead of a home, the man who can find joy in an ordinary walk on a cool September morning on the country lane, or find contentment in the joy of taking care of something that once belonged to someone else, will find greater pleasure in this life.
This old ordinary chair that I am sitting on while writing this essay is more valuable because of what it bears witness to. It bears witness to an ordinary faithfulness that was anything but insignificant. As a man of 38 years who is looking back on the memory of seeing his Pappa put on his boots before going to the garden or putting on his dress shoes to head to church, it gives me encouragement that I must also sit down in this fast-paced life with prayer and conviction while putting on my own shoes to head on this pilgrimage to wherever the Lord takes me in this world.
One day, this old chair that was once somebody else’s will be passed down through me to someone else, or it simply may disappear like countless ordinary objects do in due time. Yet the legacy of the man who once sat in it is still carrying on through this world, as I hope the Lord uses me to pass down the same legacy to my children’s children: that in the inheritance of ordinary things, there is truly only one gift that is far from the ordinary… The greatest inheritance isn’t the ordinary things themselves, but a life of faithfulness to Christ passed from one generation to another.
There is room by the hearth.
~RLN
I reminds me of Frost’s “The Need of Being Versed in Country Things.” Nice essay, Ryan.