Those Last Five Boxes

If you’ve relocated lately, maybe you’ve wondered the same thing I did after my third move in little more than a year: Where in the world did all this stuff come from? I didn’t imagine my two-bedroom apartment had that much in it, but I can’t exactly say that I’ve been living a pared-down existence.

Now, after reselling one hundred books and giving away clothes, a few small pieces of furniture, and even items I had multiples of (vacuums, coffeemakers, clothes baskets, blow-dryers), I am still a little more full than I would like. And nearly a month after the movers have been paid, there are five boxes sitting in the guest room that I can’t quite reckon with. They contain items I don’t need on a day-to-day basis but simply can’t motivate myself to sort or store or throw away. If it’s this challenging to simplify my exterior life, I’m wondering how much stuff I’m hoarding on the inside, and why.

Isn’t it the last lingering bit of anything that challenges us most? The last few days of school. The last five pounds of a diet, or the last stubborn smidgen of unforgiveness? Why is it so hard to finish things off? Why, when I’ve unpacked sixty or so boxes, am I still looking at five? And why, when it would take only a few minutes of wrestling before God, do I refuse to open my heart and deal with what’s inside?

Thankfully, there is a ray of hope for spiritual procrastinators and our stagnation of the heart. Jesus stands ready to help me with what I am too sad or afraid or disappointed in myself to face. He insists that he will never leave me nor forsake me, that it is his full intent to abide with me, and that his death-defying power is perfected in my weakness. How good is that? Best of all, he won’t give up on me, even when I’ve exhausted my own resources and lack the will to finish the good work that he, in his mercy, has begun.

I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:6, NASB

From the book