We buy ourselves time
with newer clocks—
sleeker screens, faster gears,
promises wrapped in upgrades.
They swear they will free our hours,
hand us peace in smaller packages,
give us room to breathe again.
But the hours we save
are quickly spent
earning what we now must keep.
Overtime becomes ordinary.
Evenings grow thin.
Conversations shorten.
Love waits while receipts pile up.
We trade worn jackets
that still know our shape
for colors that fade by next season.
We trade cars that carried our prayers
for engines that carry debt.
Phones multiply,
closets swell,
landfills quietly bear witness
to our hunger for “just one more.”
And somewhere along the way
security becomes a rumor
and happiness a moving target—
always one purchase ahead,
never quite arriving.
All the while,
the soul grows tired
of guarding what cannot guard it back.
Then comes the still, small truth—
not advertised, not upgraded,
but faithful as breath:
“A man’s life consisteth not
in the abundance of the things
which he possesseth.”
Peace was never for sale.
Joy was never manufactured.
It waits where it always has—
in the indwelling presence of Christ,
who asks not for more space on the shelf,
but room in the heart.
And there,
burdens loosen,
striving quiets,
and the soul remembers
what it was made for.
If this poem stirred something in your heart, remember that the deepest roots grow from God’s Word itself. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11). If you’d like simple, practical help in tucking Scripture into memory…
👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419
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