This past summer, I went to Nicaragua on a mission trip. It was a wonderful trip, full of selfless service, spreading Jesus' love, and tons of laughter along the way. While there, my team and I served food at several feeding stations around the country, in which children come for what is often their only meal of the day. The bowls are filled with rice, vegetables, and occasionally meat. I was incredibly humbled at the little these children had that greatly contradicted the joy overflowing from their hearts. On a long bus ride, God got ahold of my heart; I was blown away at my selfish materialism and pride. In tears, I wrote the poem "Chained" as the expression of my spiritual wrestling.

Chained:

I look at the colorful buildings pass by

These people are happy; I wonder why

Music fills the square, and the air feels alive

Why do I feel such a twisting inside?

I ladle out food to children whose needs

are far greater than I've ever felt personally.

Their meal for the day, I would loudly refuse

But they gratefully, joyfully, and happily use

their dust covered bowls and their grimy, small fingers

to ingest every speck, yet hunger still lingers.

There's never enough in their home to be full;

My heart, over this, begins to silently mull.

Their concept of food and my concept of desire

convict my heart of a change I greatly require.

Though never satisfied, they are content;

I have plenty, yet my mind refuses to rest.

There's money to spare and food on my shelves

My pride puffs up like an ocean vessel's sails.

I hunger not for food, but more, more, more

More pleasure, more promise, more problem-less galore.

Anger swells when I don't get my way

And selfishness consistently rules over my day.

"I want," "I need," my heart screams violently inside.

Don't I realize, in my excess, I'm starting to die?

I'm drowning in needs I've deemed worthy to claim

My stuff drags me down like an ocean's strong wave.

My eyes are too weak to see the thick, black chain

On the treasure chest sinking quickly, down and away.

The water grows colder the deeper I fall

Eventually, my body can't feel anything at all.

I see my chance to escape the murky death I face

When Holy hands reach down to show me grace.

In my darkness, the glow draws my eyes and my heart

I wonder if with this heavy chest can I part?

But I have the treasure; I don't need the saving.

My pride can't let go of the weight that's still pulling.

Even though I want to release the burden I carry

my selfish airs are too great to warrant me to tarry

Slowly, the gracious hand disappears from my sight

and my numb body disappears on that cold, cold night.

In our cushy, comfortable, American lives, it is so easy to lose sight of God's Kingdom. Jesus was right when He said in Matthew 19:24, "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God”. I realized in that moment how heavy my "stuff" had become: my possessions, my pride, and my hunger for status were slowly destroying my ability to live as a redeemed believer saved by God's grace.

Consider what Christ calls us to do repeatedly in the New Testament: we're called to find contentment in Him alone and live to bear the burden of our cross daily. To be a Christian means to give up one's life in order to bring glory to the God of life. Simplicity is a skipped word in the modern Church of America when it should be one of the most common battles in our churches. It is time for us to join together to fight against the idol of consumerism and pride. Our stuff stays in our houses on the day we die; souls don't. Let's forget about what's trendy and live to love the lost.