The Spirit of Poverty has been my companion all of my life. Over the years we became so accustomed to each other's company that I would often mistake his voice for my own inner talk. Even now, he is constantly talking to me and I am occasionally heeding what he has to say.
A good six months ago I bought some black pepper in a disposable grinder. It has been a wonderful way of getting fresh coarse ground pepper. Lately the grinder has been running down to the bottom of its supply. Last week I was at the same store and bought another.
When I got home I opened the new container and assessed the condition of the old one.
What I learned at that moment was that there was plenty of pepper in the old one, plenty but not much. I had stopped using it. I was approaching the state of pepperlessness, and I could not stand it. Rather than enjoying pepper, I was avoiding that empty feeling of running out. Of black pepper, for Christs sake.
Don't know about your relationship with poverty. The bit above describes mine. I have not wanted to even start the inventory of the things in my life that have been choked to death by this poverty pattern. I am convinced that, as I meditate on this revelation of bondage, I will walk out into the sunshine of an entirely new life.
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