WORRY BAGS

How big can a purse get before it’s considered a suitcase? I think about that when I see displays of huge purses at stores (or thrift stores, as in this photo), then recall how I try to minimize what’s in my purse. I’m not sure when the standard modest purse disappeared. When I was in high school in the 1960s, when the “ratted/poufed/sprayed” hairdos were all the rage, a teen girl’s purse wasn’t complete without a big can of hairspray to keep her locks in lacquer. (Disclaimer: I didn’t do that.) And of course, that took up space.

I’ve tried to keep my purse-life under control. I can’t survive with just a wallet, keys, and my tiny no-frills $7-a-month cell phone. Add a small calendar planner and a little zipped pocket thing for lipstick and the like. When I weighed mine recently, it was a decent four pounds, complete. But I’ve been attacked by mega-purses, not because somebody thought I was going to rob them, but in other innocent situations—like sitting in church next to an empty seat.  Even though I usually stand up to provide more room for the passer, I’ve gotten head-bashed by somebody’s mega-purse that borders on the size of a suitcase.

I smile to think of it—and I remember a wonderful illustration about heavy suitcases given by Corrie ten Boom during her speaking tours. After World War 2 she was a guest at a little church in Japan, which was still reeling from the war. She decided to conquer the language barrier with an object lesson about how to pray. She dragged her heavy travel suitcase up to the speaking platform. Quoting 1 Peter 5:7 (“Cast all your cares upon Him”), she emptied her suitcase, putting the items on a table. Some, she said, represented her weary co-workers. Another was her next trip to a town where she knew nobody. Then came friends at home, recovering from an auto accident; a little boy who refused to trust Christ; then her personal problems, like unconfessed sin, pride, and worry.  All these she wanted to “cast on the Lord.”  Then, she said, “amen,” closed the empty suitcase, and began to walk away, swinging the now-light suitcase.

The people got her point—about casting all such cares on the Lord.

Many years later, in Berlin, she ran into a Japanese evangelist who remembered her “trouble suitcase” speech in his homeland. She was flattered that he would mention it. But he said he had one problem with her illustration.  Speech over, she’d reloaded her suitcase with her personal items and left the church, just as burdened as before. * That wasn’t the message she intended! But it was a reminder how she (and the rest of us who know that promise in 1 Peter 5:7) kept putting worries and cares back in the “trouble suitcase” instead of freely releasing them to God.

I have the same problem as I pray. My real purse may get its periodic “purging” and tidying up (I sure don’t want to be guilty of carrying a head-bonker purse!). But from time to time the Lord needs to remind me (as He did when I came across Corrie ten Boom’s story) that when I cast my cares on Him, I’m not to keep stuffing them back in my worry suitcase/purse.

Worry bags aren’t part of God’s plan for the growing, trusting believer.

*This anecdote was told in Jesus Is Victor, © 1985, compiled in Corrie ten Boom: Her Story (New York: Inspiration Press, 1995), pp. 472-73.

 

AND A POST SCRIPT:

When a student at Wheaton Graduate School in my early thirties, I met a remarkable young woman whose background by that time already included living with author Elisabeth Elliot (as a seminary student helper), and ministry with a well-known international evangelism group. She'd eventually marry a widower with three children (and add a fourth) and juggle family, writing, and a busy inspirational speaking career. Her name is Lucinda Secrest McDowell, and I recently received a copy of her latest (and 15th) book, Life-Giving Choices (New Hope Publishers, $15.99). This book reflects her practice of choosing a value-oriented word as a spiritual stake for the year, and highlights 60 qualities or decisions. It's intended to be a 60-day devotional guide, but I couldn't put it down and read it in a few days. (I will go back and read with more thoughtful diligence!) I was reminded of Mark Twain's remark that the difference between the right word and the not-quite-right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug. This book is full of "right words" to ignite spiritual examination and spiritual intention. On my computer I have posted the word "inspire" as a reminder of a daily choice I need to make. This book certainly illustrates that quality. I commend it as a thoughtful, Biblical, personal, and applicable addition to your spiritual disciplines.

Suitcases

One thing that endears Corrie ten Boom’s writings to me is her use of simple, memorable props. One comes from a story of speaking to war-weary Japanese soon after World War 2. Faced with a language barrier, she decided to use an object lesson: her suitcase. She asked them if their hearts felt like a heavy suitcase. They surely did. Then she pulled onto a table the heavy suitcase she’d taken all over the world. She told them her heart felt just as heavy the previous week. Then the Lord gave her a verse: “Cast all your cares upon Him, for he cares about you” (1 Peter 5:7).

Opening the suitcase, she began taking out its contents. Something represented her very tired co-workers. Another, her concerns about the next trip to a town where she knew nobody. Another item was her heavy heart for friends who were in a car wreck. Still another: a boy who refused to believe in Christ. Then she named the burdens of her own sins, including pride and self-seeking.

Finally, the suitcase empty, she declared “Amen,” closed it and walked out of the room swinging it. Her audience got the message: Cast all your care upon Him. Empty your “trouble suitcase.”

Recently my husband and I visited a friend who has an incurable, wasting disease. She is emptying her life’s suitcase and talks of going to Heaven soon. Her husband is also emptying a suitcase: that dream of growing very old together. On the way home, as I reflected on their life together, I thought of many burdens they’ve shared. They lost a baby. They went through a long season of care-giving. An adult child has struggled. There are other burdens that won’t go away during this lifetime. But God can carry them.

Many of us have a lot of stuff in our “trouble suitcases.” We may claim to “give it to God,” but we really haven’t. Even Corrie struggled in that area, as revealed in the second part of her story.

Years later in Europe she was approached by a Japanese gentleman who remembered her speech about the “trouble suitcase.” Unfortunately, he didn’t remember the “emptying,” but instead how after the meeting she reloaded that heavy suitcase and dragged it away, as tired and burdened as when she came in.

That afternoon in the privacy of her room, Corrie thought about whether she practiced what she preached. She realized how in her morning prayer time, she might unpack the “trouble suitcase.” But throughout the day, she often took back the very things she had entrusted to her Heavenly Father.

A few hours after visiting the dying friend, I called on someone else who often precedes a conversation with, “I’m so worried about….” Repeatedly I remind this person to trust God instead of worrying. But the admonition inevitably boomerangs to me, causing me to ask, “How heavy is my own trouble suitcase? What can God carry lots better than I can?”

We know the answer: everything.

Paraphrasing a well-known credit card ad: what’s in your suitcase?