As I mentioned a few blog-articles ago, we are moving to Oregon. We have finished the move (mostly). We are staying at our daughter’s house until we get our own place. Our cars are here, and our household goods are in storage, waiting to be delivered.
Currently we are under contract for a house and, if all goes as planned, should move into it in mid-July.
We were under contract for another house before that one, but we withdrew our offer for it. Here’s why.
That first house had a wow factor. It made a great first impression. It had curb appeal, a high ceiling in the main room, and an expansive deck in the backyard with a view of Mt. Hood to the east.
It had what I was call vision. We negotiated the price down a bit and though it was still more than we really wanted to pay, we thought it was worth it to get that visionary house.
During the walk through we saw evidence that it had some problems. There were windows that were not quite transparent–apparently, they were double-paned windows that became unsealed from their frames and looked fogged up. There was a missing tile from the kitchen island. There was a vent unattached from the hole it covered. And the deck looked like it could use some work. But nothing that looked too bad.
Later, the house inspection was done. This is where a professional goes through the whole house and looks at things in detail. He sent his report. It was depressing. Then I watched the 35-minute video version of the report, which was even more depressing.
The house had more problems than we knew. There were hidden electrical problems. There were structural problems with the backyard deck. Sidewalks in the front were displaced by tree roots.
There was also a secret attic-like space. During our walk through we noticed that there was a strange ladder going up into a mysterious small door about eight feet high but we made no attempt to climb up and see into it. The inspection revealed what we overlooked–that the opening led to some kind of weird children’s lair; the drywall was marked up, top to bottom, with what looked to me like graffiti (I hate graffiti). Yes, it could be painted over, but the feeling it gave was one of hidden grunge.
All this greatly diminished our original excitement but we were still willing to buy it as long as the seller agreed to pay for the repairs. We submitted the bids for the windows, electrical and deck. It added up to quite a bit. But the sellers said they only wanted to pay for about one-fourth of the total. We withdrew our offer to buy.
Reflecting on the situation, it seemed like a story that proves the point that appearances can be deceiving.
A house or a car or jewelry can make a glittery first impression. We might think: ‘If only I had this, I’d be happy for the rest of my life!’
We might feel a soaring excitement over getting a certain material object. Or maybe we get thrilled by an ‘investment opportunity’ that promises gains that are too good to be true. Or maybe the thought of a social position–‘If I could just get that corner office!’
But all that glitters is not gold. We need to think beyond the initial wow factor and ask: ‘Is this really good for me?’ Is there something I’m missing? What is the hidden cost?
There was a time in the Bible when Israel wanted something they thought would make them happy: they wanted a king. They thought that having a king would solve their problems. They went to Samuel (the leader at the time) and demanded a king. But their demand ignored the root of the issue: it was their own sin that brought God’s judgment, that was what was causing their problems. What they needed was repentance, not a new form of government. They made matter worse by saying their reason for wanting a king was “such as all the other nations have” (1 Samuel 8:5). They wanted to be like everyone else. Not good. Still, God conceded to their desire and gave them a king. They would have to learn the hard way that their problems would not be solved by a cosmetic fix.
And what about us? Our longings should not be in shiny material things or selfish ambitions, but they should have something to do with God, who knows how we are made and knows our deepest needs. Everything else will far short; and some of those misplaced gratifications might leave us in sorrow or with debt that will long outlast the original glitter.
1 Timothy 6:6 says, “…godliness with contentment is great gain.” The real gain is not in money or things but in contentment, which is connected to godliness.
And there are the words of Jesus: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal,” (Matthew 6:19-20). There is nothing wrong with earthly treasures, per se, but in the storing them up, which implies devotion to them, putting too much hope in them.
Yes, it’s alright to have some nice things. It’s alright to fulfill some legitimate longings. But we should sift them first and be suspicious of the happiness that they promise at first glance.