Uncluttered Commitment

My wife and I enjoy taking a walk in our neighborhood most evenings. During one of our walks, I noticed a large cardboard box someone had placed next to the curb. (Just for the record, I usually don't pay much attention to my neighbors' trash!) But this box caught my eye because it was overflowing with sports trophies—engraved statues of gold and silver athletes posed on wooden bases. The trophies—perhaps two dozen of them—poked through the cardboard as if the shiny athletes were striving for one more moment of glory before the garbage collectors unceremoniously carried them away to the dump.

I don't know who was responsible for this unusual box of trash, but he must have been quite a sportsman, for the trophies represented a variety of accomplishments in baseball, basketball, and golf.

I wondered aloud to my wife, "Isn't it odd that after all the effort someone put in to win all those trophies, he's probably throwing them out with the trash?" There were several possible explanations, I suppose. Perhaps the trophy owner had moved into a smaller home where there no longer was room to display these awards. Maybe he had lost interest in sports, or maybe he died and his family was disposing of some of his belongings.

I don't know what made that unknown sportsman throw away his trophies. But it forced me to realize that in the long run, we'll all have to do the same thing someday. None of our human achievements or material possessions will last forever or satisfy the deepest longings of our hearts.

The Bible tells about a hard-driving high-achiever who learned that lesson the hard way. His personal "trophy case" was filled with accomplishments. By mid-life, he had earned a sterling reputation among his countrymen. But there was still something missing—a Christ-shaped void in his heart.

So Saul (Paul) eventually exchanged all his trophies for one permanent possession. He wrote, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him . . ." (Philippians 3:7–9).

At life's end, many of the things we talk about, worry about, and argue about won't matter. What will matter? Most of all, did I follow Jesus? Did I trust him, honor him, and obey him? Come to think of it, if my commitment to Jesus will be the crucial issue then, isn't it the crucial issue now?

Many of the things we do seem inconsequential when we evaluate them by asking, Is this activity really important to the Lord Jesus? Is it helping non-Christians get to know Christ? Is it helping Christians serve the Lord better? Jesus must always be the focus of our beliefs, our decisions, and our goals.

Like a race car driver who tries to win the Indianapolis 500 while carrying a load of bricks in the back of the car, a rider in the Kentucky Derby who attaches extra weight to the saddle, or a mountain-climber who lugs along a heavy suitcase, sometimes we clutter our lives with unnecessary baggage that hinders the single-minded, unencumbered devotion the Lord desires.

It's time to clean out the clutter and concentrate on Christ. The hymn-writer said it well: "So I'll cherish the old rugged cross, 'til my trophies at last I lay down. I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it someday for a crown."