I can’t take pictures with my smart phone.
It’s too full.
My dear, sweet, just-trying-to-be-helpful family keeps telling me it’s because I’m a hoarder.
A text message hoarder.
(I try to tell myself that virtual hoarding is not as disruptive as the actual thing, but I’m not so sure.)
Today, when I had to pass up another perfect picture taking opportunity, it hit me…
This Hoarding-Messages-Till-Your-Phone’s-Too-Full Thing is like life.
When you’re holding on to Old Stuff (even good old stuff), you don’t have room for the New Stuff (the good new stuff).
That thing when Conviction shows up and won’t move off your chest.
When it’s hard to breathe because some truth just got real heavy.
Maybe you can relate?
The texts I’m hoarding are the ones that have positive feedback in them.
Sweet words of encouragement.
Words that fill me up.
I hoard them like I’m never going to get another kind word from anyone.
I hoard them like I need their black and white proof that I’m okay. That I’m worthwhile.
I hoard them like I think they somehow testify that I am indeed loveable. Like they’re evidence of my value.
The funny thing is – I hardly ever go back and read them.
Somehow just knowing they are there – clogging up my available storage – props me up.
Have I unintentionally made idols of them?
By hanging onto them?
By making them more important than The Now.
By giving them places of honor in my phone?
As I realize what I have been doing with all of those messages, I am humbled.
How am I any different from the Golden-Calf-worshipping, kept-out-of-the-Promised-Land Israelites?
I’ve vigorously guarded the overstuffed text boxes that I claim hold good words.
Do I guard so zealously the truth – the good words – of who God says I am?
I’ve clung tightly to the thoughts and opinions of my people. My very fallible, very-human people.
Do I do the same kind of clinging when My Creator speaks to me in unequivocal truth?
Aren’t those words, that truth – His words, His truth – more eternal? Promise-filled? Life-giving?
I’m feeling a sort of eyes-lowered, head-bowed kinship with those Israelites just about now.
And, if I’m honest, it’s pretty uncomfortable.
Thankfully, I have something they didn’t have…
The illustration – the lesson – of them and the results of their impatient, fickle disobedience.
I can learn from those desert-wandering idol-clingers.
And let go of my hoarded messages.
I can accept and understand that hanging onto them is stopping me from being able to record the pretty, the sweet, the beautiful with the camera function on my phone.
I can let go of them because I can learn and trust and integrate what God says about me.
Who He says I can be.
And who I am to Him…
And, now, if you’ll excuse me…
I have some texts to delete.