By Jim Herbst
“I think I can. I think I can,” I said to myself. “I think I can live a simpler life.”
Fresh from rereading the latest edition of Ronald Sider”s Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger, and other similar works, I entered the Christmas shopping season with a fierce conviction to simplify and have a better influence on the world”s poor. No longer could I preach against materialism with a clear conscience while knowing every room in my home is packed with material clutter.
You may already know the harsh statistics. The U.S. accounts for 6 percent of the world”s population but consumes 25 to 40 percent of its resources. Some 26,000 children under the age of 5 die every day due to preventable poverty, disease, and hunger. An estimated 2.1 billion people in the world live on less than $2 per day, and 880 million people live on less than $1 per day.
Yes, I needed to do better and curtail my own consumption. “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can live a simpler life.”
What Did Not Work
So I went to work brainstorming ways to simplify””particularly at Christmastime. Some things turned out well. Most didn”t.
I had hoped to do all my Christmas shopping with fair trade organizations. I spent hours researching and shopping online at fair trade and mission sites. I then visited a local fair trade store.
Buying for women in my family didn”t seem difficult. Both my sister and sister-in-law were pregnant, so I bought each of them a baby quilt. Those gifts turned out really well.
I bought my wife a hand-woven goat hair blanket from South America. Unfortunately, it was too thin to serve any practical purpose and also smelled like the goat from which it came. After washing it I discovered it wasn”t machine washable. When I pulled the blanket out, roughly one-third of its mass remained inside the washer in the form of a giant lint circle. I also bought her a handcrafted necklace that she”s never worn.
Buying for men proved substantially more difficult. I had no success in finding a fair trade version of Lowe”s or Home Depot. Most of the fair trade sites benefiting the world”s poorest sell handicrafts that either were of no interest to men in my family or were beyond my budget.
I decided to buy my dad a replica of an oil lamp from Jesus” time made by a private craftsman. Once again, I should have paid more attention to the details. It turned out to be a miniature version of a lamp. If Jesus had elves, it would have been perfect.
In the end, I bought my parents a gift card for Babies “R” Us, which they could use to buy items for their coming grandchildren. I also resorted to gift cards for other men in my family. So much for the all-fair-trade goal.
And these weren”t all the complications I faced.
Complications to Financial Simplicity
Fuzzy needs. Those of us who grew up in the church remember the Sunday school lessons about needs versus wants. Unfortunately, as an adult there is no manual to define what a true need is””which is surprising because the IRS has manuals on nearly everything.
For example, do IÂ need life insurance? No. I won”t be around to care. But it would be nice for those who outlive me. There are thousands of decisions like that to complicate the decision to simplify.
Time/money tradeoff. When my wife was invited to a country club event, I needed a blue sport coat to match the dress code. I was so proud of myself for finding a quality, perfect-fitting jacket for under $30 in a hidden clearance aisle.
I was not so happy when Saturday came and I was working to make up the seven hours I had spent finding that great deal. The price of that coat was a day of lost time with my wife. Whether we like it or not, there is a time/money tradeoff.
Relationship web. I also found, in a materialistic culture, money and what it buys are intertwined with our social relationships. Eating out, going to movies and sporting events, taking trips, giving gifts, updating technology, going shopping, and even playing Wii all cost money, but sometimes they are more about relationships than self-indulgence.
When it comes to giving, it usually is the thought that counts, because there are few things we truly need. We already have everything. But if you don”t give a gift at Christmas you feel like Scrooge. In a materialistic culture, giving gifts is one of the more significant ways we relate to each other.
Credibility gap. Growing up, I had the general impression most preachers dressed in fashions about 10 years out-of-date. Although I abhor America”s fixation with name brands, I recognize a certain cultural credibility gap when we fall too far behind.
Inner security. Perhaps the greatest complication to financial simplicity is my own insecurity. All the cheery platitudes I”ve preached about life not being measured by materialism can feel hollow in real life. When women start comparing engagement rings with my wife, I want to hide. With a good magnifying glass you can see the diamonds in her wedding band, I promise. At the time, it was the best ring I could afford without going into debt.
My friends” and family”s homes and nicer cars make me feel like a charity project. Intellectually, we know life doesn”t consist in the abundance of possessions. It just doesn”t always feel like it. Sometimes the stuff of life makes you feel pretty good.
What Did Work
The best thing we did by far was to begin supporting a child overseas after reading an article in Christian Standard. Having her in our lives has been incredibly rewarding and has reshaped our perspective. Another move that coincided with it was asking the church to contribute to missions rather than give us Christmas presents. It was rewarding to hear comments about the missions church members supported.
A surprising result of our experiment became a blessing in disguise. The more I focused on simplicity, the more thankful I became for the neighborhood in which we live. We live in a poor, inner-city neighborhood. We live among people who have far less than we have.
I discovered we have a built-in anchor on our perspective that I didn”t realize before. When I visit wealthier churches or family members, my appetite for material stuff grows exponentially. I fidget in discontent. When I look around my block, however, I feel incredibly blessed and content.
Life”s Complicated Ideals
I”ve read a great deal of Christian literature in recent years about fighting against the material excess and environmental abuse of previous generations. Most of it is deserved. But it seems like newer generations rebel against the unachieved but once noble extreme ideals of the previous generation . . . and then replace them with unachievable, extreme ideals of their own.
I”ve recently read two Christian books that suggest if we all just renounce our material possessions, protest for peace, fight for the environment, and resource the impoverished, then all conflict in the world will end. I have my doubts that replacing the failed political kingdom of the Moral Majority with a neo-hippie kingdom will fare any better in its ideals.
Indeed, I”m reminded of several phases of failed ideals from my own life. There was the “no R-rated movies” phase; the “Christian political activism” phase; the “boycott everybody” phase; the “translate Greek, Hebrew, and practice guitar daily” phase; and the “learn banjo” phase.
None of these lasted. Quickly approaching midlife, many of my “change the world!” ideals are fading into “change what you can” mini-projects.
Jogging has helped me face my failures. My two miles every other day isn”t going to set any records or win any races. But, then, I don”t jog to win races or set records. I jog just to be healthy.
There are other areas where I don”t have to win a race or set records””just be healthy. I haven”t won the simplicity race, but I am healthier for it.
Jim Herbst ministers with Hazelwood Christian Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
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