The world is shredding my heart these days. I look around at our comfortable life and our comfortable faith in our comfortable part of the world, and I feel
really uncomfortable. And I want to feel that way for as long as it takes for us to make real changes and take real action, rather than just cry a few tears and heave a big sigh and then sink right back into our easy chairs with a tub of ice cream for a nice, brain-numbing Netflix binge.
There are a lot of ways to move from sugarshocked immobility to meaningful action. Give, pray, and get involved with organizations who know the issues well and can connect you with volunteer opportunities. (We've had terrific experiences with
World Relief and
Exodus, so if you're looking for an endorsement of a refugee-serving organization, check out either of them. Two thumbs way up).
Every time I think the plight of so many in the world, I feel newly convicted to pursue minimalism. And then I see something pretty or fun or on sale in my new, softer size and I buy it anyway. Just like a diet, my minimalism always starts tomorrow.
What does a new pair of jeans have to do with compassion? Let's set aside compassion-related environmental and labor issues that come into play when I buy buy buy anything and everything I want, and think more broadly about how Stuff can clog up our hearts and lives.
Les and I have been talking about how our Stuff and our Love of Stuff gets in the way of living the life we want, and feel convicted about living. Here are some ways:
- Clutter in our home makes us self-conscious about hosting and hospitality. (Well, clutter, and our Ornery Chihuahua-based home security system). Fewer possessions = less clean up when you want to invite someone into your home. We could just get over our hangups about what our home looks like and what our Fur Baby acts like, and we want to do that, too, but fewer piles would go a long way towards a more hospitable house.
- Money we spend on Stuff prevents us from being as generous as we say we want to be.
- Our Things are distractions. We'd rather be comfy in our home, doing our own thing, than out loving our neighbors. We do need time at home to recharge and relax as a family. Balance is important. We're in a slow, "home base" season with a new baby. But eventually, we need to get back out into Community and not just cling to our creature comforts like Pia clings to her lovey.
- Stuff takes up space. Duh. But seriously. Do we have room to host a Safe Families child, or will our guest room be full of boxes of crap for all eternity? Will we be tempted to upgrade to a bigger house when Pia is older because we don't have room to contain all our family's possessions? Will our cars deteriorate faster because we have to park them outside all winter because our garage is being used as an attached Stuff Storage Unit?
- Stuff takes up time. What are my plans for the weekend, every weekend, lately? Cleaning out the box-filled guest room, organizing our one small storage space, purging unneeded stuff from the garage... cleaning, organizing, tossing. Not my idea of a particularly fun time. Clutter hangs over us in our free time. And every time I have to rearrange a kitchen cabinet when I unload the dishwasher, I fantasize about donating half of the contents of our cupboards, and having clear, usable counter space. In my fantasy, a clean, spare kitchen makes it easier to cook and clean and entertain.
- Stuff Begets Stuff. Did you know there's actually name for the fact that buying a new dress often leads to buying new shoes and a necklace to match? It's called the Diderot Effect, and it played out in frustrating fashion in my life last week. I bought a new (Target clearance section) watch because our office building has NO clocks, and I feel rude checking my phone all the time in meetings. The watch didn't fit, so now I need to buy a little kit with tiny tools to take links out of the band so I can wear it. Grrrr. And the dress + shoes + necklace? Story of my shopping life. Pretty soon, you're over-consuming just to use the one thing you wanted to buy in the first place. Yuck.
There's a famous Bible story in which Jesus tells a wealthy man to sell all his possessions, give the money to the poor, and then come and follow him. It's a pretty famous story, usually called "The Rich Young Ruler". One could gloss over it and say "I'm not wealthy or powerful. This story has nothing to do with me". I remember several years ago when I read this story in The Message translation for the first time:
Mark 10:17-27 The Message
To Enter God’s Kingdom
17 As he went out into the street, a man came running up, greeted him with great reverence, and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to get eternal life?”
18-19 Jesus said, “Why are you calling me good? No one is good, only God. You know the commandments: Don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t cheat, honor your father and mother.”
20 He said, “Teacher, I have—from my youth—kept them all!”
21 Jesus looked him hard in the eye—and loved him! He said, “There’s one thing left: Go sell whatever you own and give it to the poor. All your wealth will then be heavenly wealth. And come follow me.”
22 The man’s face clouded over. This was the last thing he expected to hear, and he walked off with a heavy heart. He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and not about to let go.
Did you catch that last line there?
He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and not about about to let go. That's me! A punch in the gut.
Do I think we are all supposed to sell everything we own and give the money to the poor? No. But I do think we are called to let go of the things that we're clutching so tightly we can't take hold of Jesus, or stretch out our hands to help someone else. If we're using our hands to hold on tightly to our stuff, we can't very well be Jesus's hands in a hurting world.
There are a lot of reasons I would rather hold onto Stuff than to Jesus. For one thing, my stuff doesn't ask me to do hard things, or make hard choices, or love people. My stuff makes me comfortable. Jesus, if you take him very seriously, does the opposite. I want to project a certain version of myself to the world: a put-together, reasonably fashionable, interesting person who you should like/hire/show kindness to (or pity, depending on how much sleep I've had). My closet and my piles indicate that I think my stuff will present, or maybe even create, that likable, capable person. Somewhere I think I know that my actions and my character speak louder than the trendy necklace I picked up to go with that new shirtdress, but another part really believes that the necklace will help. Fashion is fun, and putting your best foot forward is important. Getting dressed in clothes that fit and make you feel great in the morning can be a sanity-preserving ritual. Some days, though, when I'm sputtering on 4 hours of broken sleep, I am reminded how little the looks matter when the inside is all crusty and gasping. My identity is not my reflection in the mirror. Jesus is enough. He has to be, because I sure am not, no matter how well-curated my outfit is.
Sometimes we hold onto things because they represent part of our identity, or our idealized identity. I am a writer, I should have a lot of books. People who are serious about their health have lots of workout clothes and cookbooks. I am creative, so I need a whole room full of craft supplies, just in case I ever decide to learn how to block print, silk screen, or use oil pastels. None of those things are wrong to buy and use. Hobbies are great! Supplies are necessary for good, creative work. But I have to ask myself: why am I holding on to *literally* boxes full of unused or once-read things? What pains me about letting go of them? They have become representations of pieces of myself that need shoring up. Maybe especially in this new-mommy stage of life. I DO WORK OUT! I DO COOK! I DO PAINT, SEW, and MAKE STUFF! I do. And honestly, I'll probably keep a lot of those items. But I'm trying to learn how to keep the things that add value, beauty, knowledge, and utility to my life and let go of the things that simply add to the pile of things that I keep as props for the character I'm trying to play for the world (or my ego).
We're making some de-stuffifying plans over here, and I'll try to write about our process as we go. I do not have it all figured out. We both loooooove us some Stuff, but we're trying to be more intentional about what we allow into our lives, and what needs to go.
I
Marie Kondo-ed my closet this weekend, so that'll be the first project to share! Stay tuned.
