Spiritual Riches from A Broken Fridge

Our fridge broke down yesterday.

When we discovered it as we got home from work, how we sprung into action. While I busied myself trying to cook a decent dinner with as whatever food that was still fresh, Cliff was in the storeroom fiddling with the switches, trying to bring our giant metallic hulk of a friend back to life. Off and on, on and off, and we pressed our ears close to the usually gently humming giant, awaiting its revival.

Perhaps it would take some time, we thought. Hey! The light in the fridge came on. Hope revealed its faithful glow. But as we looked for the familiar whirr and the blinking lights for signs of life, we were disappointed.

“Our fridge is dead,” we declared.

After all efforts of resuscitation had failed, the stench of decomposing flesh pushed us out from the comforts of our fog of denial. Getting down on our hands and knees, we packed away bag after bag of soft beancurd, stale yoghurt, two cartons of unopened milk, old ice-cream and a bag of frozen salmon, generously given to us by our parents the week before. Down the chute they went, suffering an ignominious burial at the bottom of the rubbish heap.

“Oh, I can’t believe our fridge is spoilt,” I grumbled, as I thought of all the meals that I had planned to cook this week, now thwarted. The frozen salmon, rationed and saved from last week, would have turned into a delightful teriyaki grilled treat with lemon slices on top, lasting us for many meals; the tofu, again rationed and saved from last week, was supposed to become our favourite stir-fry dish with onions, mushrooms and egg; and our daily ritual of savouring a fruit-filled yoghurt bowl for dessert was now broken.

“Oh don’t worry, Wai Jia,” my husband grinned. He is the ever-optimistic spark of light whenever I try to worsen a situation with my stifling melancholy. “The fridge is spoilt,” he grinned, “but our love will NEVER SPOIL.”

His cheesiness brought a smile to my face immediately.

Suddenly, of all times, on my hands and knees as I packed the decomposing produce away, I had a spiritual revelation right there and then.

I asked myself: what am I hoarding in my life, and for what purpose? As I looked at the foods that had been bought days, weeks or even months back, which I had miserly “saved” and “rationed” for a “better” occasion or so it would last us longer, I wondered what good that parsimonious attitude served, now that everything was rotting and festering away. Nobody would have expected the fridge to break down. But as I threw out more and more items, I realized I was throwing out not only things which had turned bad in the past 24 hours, but mouldy cheese and forgotten sauces in bottles with embarrassingly dated expiry dates.

In the same way, I began to ask myself: what else am I hoarding in my life?

So many people have advised us to save judiciously for a rainy day or for our future children. That is certainly sound advice. But I also wonder, how much of what we save is saved out of a miserly, more than a frugal heart, or out of fear, rather than faith? Do we not realize that when we leave our money in our banks and wallets, or when we hoard a maybe-i-will-use-this-someday  item in our storeroom instead of giving it away, with the mindset that perhaps it will be better used for a better cause/charity/occasion/rainy day, it becomes stagnant? When things, like food rotting in a fridge, become stagnant, they tend to smell, too.

And what happens when unexpected crises strike? Illness, loss, disaster. Would we have wished our money or what we hoarded through our lifetime was better circulated and distributed to others? Would those things matter to us anymore? Would we have wished that the frozen salmon was cooked earlier and served to a homeless man, rather than saved? Would we have wished that what we so painstakingly hoarded had a better life-term being used and poured out to serve others, instead of being “saved” way past its Best-Before date? What am I storing up in my life that is susceptible to decay and death? How can I bring what I have to life in the form of a gift, or sharing or an act of service instead of allowing it to stagnate and fester?

That tub of ice-cream had been there for ages. Why wasn’t it served to guests earlier?

So as we cleared out our kitchen last night, I re-learnt an important lesson that I had tucked away at the back of my mind. That whatever God has given and blessed us with, we need to channel to others freely as well. When we store up what we have selfishly or even unconsciously, we not only deprive others of the blessing they could have received through us, we also rob ourselves of the joy and privilege of doing so. When we store for ourselves, we are storing with no promise of eternal permanence- everything rots eventually. We store with the intention of good for ourselves, but we just never know when an unexpected crisis will take it all away, or cause it to come to naught. But when we give to others, we are storing up in heaven, where neither rust nor moth destroys, where spiritual treasures last for eternity.   

I hope that when I encounter a broken-down fridge in future, it will be rather empty. Empty, from giving; empty, from sharing; empty from a heart of knowing where the True Storehouse really is, and where my treasures really lie.

Are we prepared for a broken fridge?  

 

“ Do not choose to store up for yourselves treasures on earth,

where rust and moth consume, and where thieves break in and steal.

Instead, store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither rust nor moth consumes,

and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also is your heart.”

– Matthew 6:19-21