Our camper van was packed full as it rolled west down the interstate. Colorado was the destination, and along with it, two weeks of camping, hiking, and exploring God’s beauty in the national parks. Unfortunately, our family never made it. A few hours into our trip, a defective battery cell in our camper van started a fire that consumed the entire vehicle within minutes. As we huddled with our kids in the grass beside the interstate, we thanked the Lord for his protection while we watched flames destroy our belongings. Favorite stuffed animals, toys, camera equipment, clothes, hiking gear, and journals with my children’s entries were all burned to nothing. In the weeks after, my husband and I found ourselves grieving all we lost, and at the same time, feeling a little guilty for it. 

Perhaps you’ve experienced the same tension in relation to your material belongings. You’ve felt a tinge of guilt while mourning the loss of a favorite quilt or worrying about damaging your favorite piece of furniture. After all, this stuff is temporary, so why should we grieve its loss? While this is true in part, it’s not the whole story. We must allow all of Scripture to teach us how to view the objects of this world.

Temporary Doesn’t Mean Evil

Scripture continually reminds us that our true home will come when Christ returns. While on earth, Jesus told his disciples that “Heaven and earth will pass away,” and he admonished them to lay up treasures in heaven, where moths, rust, and thieves could never reach them (Matt. 24:35, 6:19–21). Later we find Paul echoing the same message, telling the church to “Seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God” (Col. 3:1). To the Corinthians he said, “Look not to the things that are seen, but to the things that are unseen” (2 Cor. 4:18). 

These verses, taken out of context, make it seem as if the material objects of this world hold no importance at all, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. The transience of these objects is highlighted not to condemn, but to urge the audience to understand that their hope cannot be placed in them. Our full security won’t ever be found in the objects of this world. The comfort from my child’s stuffed animal is fleeting; the joy in a pair of new shoes will soon disappear. Surely, we see the outworking of this reality throughout the book of Ecclesiastes as the author realizes that riches come and go, for naked we came into the world, and naked we shall return (Ecc. 5:15). The work of human hands can’t ever hold our hope and salvation from our sinful world—only our Savior can do that.

Yet this truth doesn’t mean objects are worthless. Instead, it should prompt us to see the objects in our lives in their proper place. Our Lord is the one who created a world of objects—and what he created was good. God purposed to place his image bearers in a world full of rocks, grass, trees, minerals, and metals. Moreover, he gave us the ability to make more. Some of these might have specific uses, such as tools for labor, homes for protection, or clothing for warmth. Other objects provide only enjoyment—ornate rugs and clothing speak of unnecessary beauty, and carved wooden instruments sing of delight.

Because of sin, some objects can certainly be wrong in and of themselves, but the idea that all of the physical world is evil isn’t supported by the Scriptures. Instead, we see that “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17). These gifts can include the earthly gifts of a favorite casserole dish, fishing pole, or the ball cap you wear every day. The small bit of joy they give need not be brushed aside but can be welcomed as a gift from our loving Father.

Gifts That Hold More

These objects can hold even more meaning beyond their everyday use. God wired our brains so that the sight, smell, and even the feel of objects in our lives can pull up memories from our past. This is why the devastation of wildfires and natural disasters cuts so deeply. Victims aren't crying over a random rocking chair. They are weeping over their specific rocking chair—the one that rocked their newborn home from the hospital and went on to cradle their toddler after a fall. They grieve the feel of the wood that pushed against them while swaying their five-year-old when he was sick. They mourn for these belongings because the Creator, in his common grace, has allowed humans to tie their memories to the objects in this world.

In his special grace towards his children, the Lord goes even further. He not only allows objects to hold memories, but he also specifically builds our faith through them. Evidence of this abounds within the biblical narrative as stones became memorials to remember God’s victories (1 Sam. 7:12). Tassels on robes stood for the unfading truths of God (Num. 15:38–41). The jar of manna in the Ark of the Covenant brought to mind the faithful provision of God through years of stubbornness and rebellion (Ex. 16:32–35). The building of faith through physical objects continued in the New Testament, with the institution of the Lord’s Supper and Baptism. We hold the bread, drink the cup, and feel the water, and are reminded that these earthly, transient things pull us towards the greatest hope we could ever know, bought by the redemption of our Savior.

It’s been one year since our family’s devastating fire. In that time, we’ve tried to rebuild our lives both spiritually and physically, patiently replacing so much of what we’ve lost. As we’ve unboxed each item, we felt anew its transiency—it could all go away, too. Yet, at the same time, we appreciate more deeply the delight of every object we hold in our hands. They are good and sweet gifts from the Father who loves and shapes us.

So it is with all of us. The objects in our lives can remind us of the faithfulness, forgiveness, mercy, and love that God has showered upon us each year we sat at the kitchen table, pulled out that skillet, or rocked our baby in a chair. Of course, they won’t last on their own. Like the contents in our van, they’ll burn up someday, too. But we’ll mourn their loss, for they were good gifts. And while we hold them near, we can allow the beloved objects in our lives to push us to the one who will never fade away. We can let them lead us to the giver of every good gift and discover the tender hand of our Shepherd, who employs even the objects in our lives to draw us nearer to him.