Over the past few years, you know that I’ve been on a bit of a journey towards a simpler way of life. I’m still learning that Being Busy does not equal Being Spiritual/Important. In fact, the act of making space in my life has become a sacred thing.
Part of that has meant letting go of our western mindset that more is always better. And if it’s on sale, even better. I’ve learned to let go of shopping as recreation and therapy, to stop spending money and live within my means. I am learning the impact of my financial choices even beyond myself.
I’ve rejected consumerism and materialism, greed and selfish gratification. I live very simply now and I like it. No television and no cable. No video games. No movies. No cell phone. We cook at home. A small home we can afford. We live on a cash budget for the most part. We have no debt with the exception of our mortgage. We have one vehicle. We made these decisions because of our values.
We strive to honour God with our spending, showing our allegiance even in this area.
But here’s the thing: we have become more generous through these decisions because now our money isn’t earmarked for stupid debt. We give more than a tenth of our income away. We support homeless shelters, an African girl that has fallen victim to AIDS, a boy in India, Mercy Ministries and our local church.
We have learned to be givers, not consumers.
But then I went to the Super Target while we were in Omaha.
You see, Super Target has always been my downfall. When we lived in the States, I think I went to Target twice a week. I’d go through the doors with my latte and just browse. (Which sounds so luxurious now that I have two tinies….to just get a coffee and browse slowly. That idea alone almost makes me groan with pleasure and longing.)
I rarely left without spending money. I nickle and dimed through the Target. I have resisted the urge to tally up how much I must have spent over weeks of $40 here and there. I probably could have fed a small village in African for a year.
As we moved and moved and moved again and then again, I got tired of packing up all the crap. We reduced and donated and then did it over again. I grew to hate that Target clearance stuff. Honestly. Vases? Who needs more vases? And fake flowers. And picture frames! Dear Jesus, save us from it all but especially those of us that keep buying more picture frames. Merona clothes, Mossimo flip flops, coffee mugs and placemats.
I thought I had a handle on my Target obsession. I thought that I had dominated the addiction a bit more every time I carried another box to the Salvation Army for donation.
Clearly, I was mistaken.
And then, when we were in Omaha, I went back.
Ooooo!
Shiny things!
Lipstick!
Flip flops!
T shirts for $3!
Rugs!
Towels!
Sheets!
Toys!
Stationary!
Books!
Books!
Books!
My friends, I fell into a vat of discounter merchandise.
I figured that if one t-shirt for Anne was good, then three must be better. I tried on skirts and figured hey, it was $7.99 so who cares if it didn’t fit perfectly? I know I said I wanted only to buy fair trade and ethically BUT THESE SHOES ARE JUST $24.99. I hit the book section and added another ten pounds to my return-trip suitcase. I loaded up my cart. Willy-nilly, I tossed items in if they had any appeal for me at all.
Because, as everyone knows, CRAP IS CHEAP IN THE USA!
God bless America.
After a bit of time, I realised I had forgotten the items I had come to get in the first place: a gift for my sister-in-law’s wedding shower and some food items for my other sister-in-law who was hosting. I went to the registry and got down to business.
As I paced around looking for the exact shade of the towel that Kim wanted, I looked at the full cart.
How much is enough?
That quickly, the Holy Spirit showed up in the Target. I was reminded of a book I read earlier this year by Will Samson called “Enough: Contentment in an Age of Excess.” It’s a brilliant book about finding contentment and letting go of consumerism as the people of Christ. He uses the metaphor of the Eucharist (Communion or the Lord’s Supper, depending on your background) to show that we can live in today with enough. It’s compelling and beautiful without the guilt trip. Basically, we need to move from consuming to being consumed, consumed by the God that we serve, seeing Him and what we have as enough.
And I realised afresh that I have enough.
What do I need? I didn’t need the clothes. I didn’t need the cute notepaper. I didn’t need all the stuff from the dollar bin. Joseph didn’t need all of those clothes and neither did Anne. We didn’t have the money for these things either. Did I need debt? Nope.
I slowly went through the cart and returned most of the items. (I’m not made of wood, people. I still bought some crap.)
There are a million reasons why living simply is beautiful – for the earth, for humanity, for our souls, for our wallets. After all, would we be in this economic mess if we had lived within our means?
Samson wrote about practices to help:
- Practice the presence of God
- Practice the belief in enough
- Practice gratitude
- Practice celebration
- Practice giving.
I didn’t see binging on the $1 bin at Target as part of that list.
It’s an ongoing journey, isn’t it? Maybe I hadn’t conquered this after all. Maybe all I lacked was opportunity. My heart is still open.
But I met God at the Super Target. Not in a transcendent Road to Damascus way. But in a gentle reminder that He is enough. I am whole. I don’t need this. I need to lead my life in a way that shows that I trust God, that I live with peace, that I am born for more than this and I am more than the sum of what I purchase.
May today there by peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of you.
~ St. Teresa of Avila (from the final chapter of “Enough.”)
