By Steven Norris
The great Twentieth Century mystic, theologian, and pastor, Howard Thurman once told the story about a man who visited an antique store. It was an exclusive, upscale place typically frequented by those who could afford to purchase such rare items. The man was clean but poorly dressed, for his job as a common laborer did not afford him the luxury of nice things.
Though he bought nothing that day, he returned later and picked out a single item, asking if he could make a deposit on it. Week after week he visited the store, paying a bit at a time until it was completely paid off. The store owner inquired about his intentions for the piece.
“I bought it for my little room. It isn’t much, but I bring to it, from time to time the very best and most beautiful things. You see, that is where I live.”
Thurman went on to suggest that the man’s approach to the place he lived was a model for the way in which we might choose to hold our memories. The range of our experiences — good, bad, beautiful, ugly, painful, regrettable — cannot all furnish our “room”. We need to filter these experiences and choose what we preserve for the mental, emotional, and spiritual space in which we live.
Thurman suggested that maybe this is what Jesus was talking about when he commanded his followers to lay up treasures in heaven. After all, Jesus said that where our treasures are, there our heart will be also.
At the cusp of a new year, internality about the place I live might have a significant impact on the quality of the days, weeks, and months ahead. Too often, I’m afraid that I settle for noise or endless chatter instead of really listening for the music of life. I settle for the pablum of instant gratification over the investment required for lasting treasure. Too often, I nurse negative words and experiences, as if my constant rehearsing might somehow change the past.
What would our year look like if we made intentional efforts to fill our hearts with things of true beauty? What if we made it a point to read poetry or a good novel? Filled our ears with the sounds of beautiful music? Feasted our eyes on beautiful art? What if we set aside an hour each week to take a walk in the woods? To visit a waterfall? To sit before the sunset? What if we carved out at least one lunch per week to share it with a friend and talk, leaving our cell phones in the car to help foster attention and conversation? What if we chose to forgive instead of carrying our hurts with us? How do you think it would change our year?
I want you to take seriously the furnishing of your “space” — however you might define that. May the thoughts, memories, inspirations, relationships, dreams, and prayers adorning the walls of your heart and mind become the inspiration for a year of hope, grace, mercy, and love.