B-U-K-U Money Can’t Buy Me Peace

The house can be quiet while the mind is making enough noise to fill every room.

The bills may be paid. The door may be locked. Tomorrow may look reasonably settled. Still, a person can lie awake rehearsing an argument, worrying about a reputation, or trying to arrange a future that keeps moving out of reach.

That was one of the questions running through our listening session: what can money actually give us, and what are we asking it to do?

“B-U-K-U money” is a memorable way to say a whole lot of it. Enough to buy the bigger place, replace the worn-out truck, and take some pressure off the family. Those are real comforts. Anyone who has worried about groceries or the power bill knows that financial breathing room matters.

But a comfortable room can still hold an unsettled heart.

An old resentment can ride in a fine automobile as easily as an old one. The desire to impress people can follow us into a larger house. If every achievement has to prove that we matter, the finish line keeps moving. More becomes a promise that never quite tells us when it has kept its word.

In Jesse Lee Peterson’s teaching, as discussed in our session, the invitation was to turn attention toward the inner struggle rather than expect outward success to settle it. That is a spiritual perspective, and it gives us something worth considering in an ordinary day.

What are we carrying into the next thing we hope to acquire?

Perhaps we are hoping a purchase will quiet embarrassment. Perhaps we want success to answer somebody who dismissed us years ago. Perhaps we have simply grown used to reaching for something whenever stillness feels unfamiliar.

We do not have to condemn ourselves for noticing any of that. We can become honest about it. We can handle the practical work in front of us and leave a little space for prayer, gratitude, and an unanswered question.

There is a kind of attention that costs nothing: hearing someone all the way through, taking a walk without rehearsing a quarrel, sitting quietly before God without presenting a list of accomplishments. These moments do not erase hardship. They can remind us that life contains something besides the next transaction.

Picture the end of an evening on the porch. The light is on. A cup sits beside an empty chair. There may still be work waiting tomorrow, and some of it may be difficult. For a moment, though, nobody has to prove anything.

B-U-K-U money might buy a beautiful porch. The invitation to sit down, give thanks, and be present is already here.