What Treasure Do You Seek?
By Megan Johnson
I am a gold digger's great-great-granddaughter.
Between 1938 and 1956, my ancestor Noble Getchell pulled two-million dollars in silver and gold from the Betty O'Neal mine in Berlin, Nevada. Now an official ghost town, he acquired the deserted mine in 1922 after it had seemingly failed to make good on its promises of treasure. Noble saw something others did not.
When it comes to things typically called "treasure," there is a common understanding of how we find it. For a miner, it was a grueling and consistent chipping away in an undesirable environment of darkness. Year after year, a miner succumbs to a subterranean lifestyle. One that hardens their own humanity, shaping them into the exact shape of the tunneled treasure they were seeking.
Head down. Eyes dimmed. Body brutalized.
Soul-breaking work for literal treasure is an American pastime. And one that isn't to be ridiculed and demeaned but instead explored and reflected on. The truth is that God advises anyone who wants to know him deeply to have a miner's heart. Treasure seeking is a spiritual practice we are invited into. Humans, by nature, are treasure seekers. Our fingers are made to dig, and our hearts are made to find.
For example, when it comes to wisdom, we are told to search for it "like a prospector panning for gold, like an adventurer on a treasure hunt." (Prov. 2:4, MSG). And Jesus likens the kingdom that he had come to establish as buried treasure, "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field" (Matt. 13:44).
What differentiates between treasure-seeking for our power and control and treasure-seeking to discover God? It's not as simple as saying material possessions are wrong and only spiritual blessings are good. Stories of Solomon, King David, Job, Esther, and Lydia would tell us otherwise. In short, dualism won't get the job done. Nor does it encompass the breadth of how God can bless a person.
What is more profound to me is the exchange rate God gives to those willing to hand over our lesser treasures to discover his more lavish gifts. As C.S. Lewis aptly describes, "It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."
Gold digging—longing for personal power and influence—is one of those mud pies produced in the slum. Treasure seeking—longing to experience God's power and influence throughout our lives—is our passport to the seaside holiday.
There may be differences in how we get to this place, but the journey has to be taken if we ever want to discover the value ourselves through the life we are offered in Jesus. Something I like to call "the great exchange" must occur for each person, or we will continue to stockpile the wrong things and define that as "treasure." This takes place in the hidden recesses of the human heart. Like a miner slowly journeying deep into the hidden motives and desires of a person, the walls glimmer with fools gold, calling us to keep on going until we discover the real thing.
And somewhere along the way, an ironic flip of perspective happens. You begin to realize that the Christian faith isn't about what we seek but ultimately about Who seeks us.
How often has God pursued the dusty, old, abandoned wilds of my hardscrabble heart? Even when I'm heavy from the lead and magnetite of my own decisions, he straps on a headlamp and comes to pull me out. What kind of Man is this who lovingly chips away at the deepest and most stubborn parts of us? It is Someone who knows the value hidden within the darkest parts of our stories. This kind of pursuant, treasure-confident God is the original gold miner; we are the treasure He seeks.
The closer I allow God to get, the more He reveals gem-like inflections of His character. Rather than be bent by the darkness of a tunneled treasure that breaks the soul, we can rest in the gentle dusting of a God determined to extract us in love. In His hands, we stand straighter, stronger, and taller. Our hearts become full of light and bodies full of hope. Paul explains this beautifully, "For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ. (2 Co 4:6–7).
Lead for light. Hobbling for soaring. Breaking for strengthening. Despairing for delight.
In contrast, I can only imagine my grandfather's response when he discovered that his dusty old mine had been laden with overwhelming treasure. I am sure he was ecstatic and overjoyed. He had chased dreams of a big haul all his life, and here it was!
But the elation didn't last.
Noble's legacy isn't one of notoriety and prestige. It is one of brokenness. Noble lost everything in a divorce, and his legacy dried up alongside the mine when it closed in 1932. To this day, it is forlorn, left in the near exact state as it was before the treasure was discovered.
We don't have to have the same story.
Right now, God sees you as a hidden gem within the ghostly remnants of a life abandoned. He can detect the glistening nature of your beauty even amid your driest or most unproductive season. Where you have given up hope, He has already put down a hefty down payment on the parcel of your potential. Friend, you don't have to discover treasure to be valuable to Him; you are the treasure.