My family recently installed Google Home—a subservient little speaker with a lot of backtalk. It’s supposed to be a useful tool: it sets timers for when your meatloaf is done cooking, or plays your music of choice, or tells you what the weather’s like in Cabo...although it refuses to do half the things I request, giving the rude excuse: “I’m not sure how to help with that;” honestly, it unnerves me.
While I was at home one day, I began making a grocery list, even though my mother was already at the store. I’d call out, “Okay, Google! Add cookies to the shopping list,” and the word “Cookies” would fly across space, onto my mother’s phone screen. Eventually, after I had thoroughly scoured the kitchen and couldn’t think of anything else we needed, I had some fun and started saying things like, “Okay, Google! Add Sir Paul McCartney to the shopping list.” My mother came home a few hours later, dropped the armload of groceries in the doorway, and promptly apologized: “I went to four different stores, and not one of them had any of the Beatles in stock.”
Those kinds of silly requests aren’t unordinary, though. We frequently shop in vain:
“Okay, Google! Add a better career to the shopping list. Add more money! Add romance! Add another degree to my diploma! Add peace and quiet! Add more likes, more hearts, more thumbs-ups! Add a life with without family problems, better friends, better health, more time! The reply is always the same: “I’m not sure how to help with that.” Google won’t cut it. You can add to your grocery list all you want, but you’ll never fill a shopping cart enough to stock the pantry of your soul.
“You have sown much, and bring in little; You eat, but do not have enough; You drink, but you are not filled with drink; You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm; And he who earns wages, Earns wages to put into a bag with holes,” (Haggai 1:6).
David wrote that God is like a moth; He consumes what is dear to us (Psalm 39:11). He makes sure this world has as many holes as we do, so it’ll never fully fill us. Our Creator isn’t diabolically planning to leave us empty. He didn’t make temporary things satisfying is because He knew they wouldn’t last eternally. He allows—even intends—letdowns and disappointments because He wants to be the only thing remaining.
He says, “You looked for much, but indeed it came to little; and when you brought it home, I blew it away…” (Haggai 1:9). When distracting idols hit home, God’s breath—His Word, and our life source (Genesis 2:7; II Timothy 3:16)—removes anything that might take His place. He’s the rock that incessantly stands: eternal, unfailing, fulfilling. We don’t need to buy satisfaction because He bought us. We already have all we’ll ever need, and it’s something we won’t find anywhere in the world—not even in Google.