Too Much Stuff

WK 2: Too Much Stuff!

Of course, there is great gain in godliness combined with contentment; for we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it; but if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.  But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains. But as for you, man of God, shun all this; pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness.

1 Timothy 6:6-11 (NRSV)

Do you ever have moments where you discover something, that in retrospect seems incredibly obvious? Last Sunday I was talking to Cheryl about the sound system while trying unsuccessfully to get into the sacristy, when she reminded me that I needed to push on the door I was pulling on if I wanted it to open.

This sermon is a compilation of reflections on the ways in which the door to simplicity has remained closed because we have been exhaustively pulling instead of realizing all we need is a little push.

Given that the reason I could not get into sacristy last Sunday was obvious to Cheryl, I’m curious if today’s sermon illustrations will be obvious to all of you. As if I just learned that a tomato isn’t a vegetable and everyone here has known a tomato was a fruit since they were five.

In addition to having forgotten how to correctly open doors at the church, it may also be helpful to share with you that my whole sermon writing process this week began with this one, profound, momentous thought. 

I could sit in my bedroom closet and work on my sermon.

Reading this now it sounds symptomatic of a greater dysfunction and highly likely to be the next story-line of a Netflix Original Series about a mother who loses her mind and lives in a closet repeatedly hitting the same key on a laptop that long ago ran out of batteries. I understand this now. But you must realize that at the time the thought crossed my mind it sounded like an ingenious idea for a working mother in need of just enough quiet space to write three to four pages of complete sentences to share with all of you this morning.

I have a problem organizing thoughts in cluttered spaces.

Too much stuff on the floor, in the laundry baskets, in the stupid refrigerator. Cosco! Too much stuff flagged for follow up in my email, highlighted in my text messages, blinking at me in my voicemail. Why is voicemail still a thing? Too much stuff I need to do; get my car detailed by pushing it off a bridge over a very deep river, call Comcast for a verbal boxing match that we all know I will begin incredibly confidently and hang up crying, organize all my important papers in my newly purchased shredder, pretend I am listening to the people I live with resulting in agreeing to host a three-night sleepover with all my daughter’s friends. Honey, I’m pretty sure mommy said, maybe.  Too much stuff in my head. Fears about who will think what about the things I didn’t say and the places I couldn’t be, lectures about better time management, setting clearer boundaries, and being more responsible.  

Too much stuff. Too much to respond to, to plan for, to ruminate on. It isn’t just the physical stuff, the things we can pack up in boxes or drop off at Good Will, that drives us to cut ourselves off, hunkered down in bedroom closets, it’s the invisible stuff too. Stuff hidden behind the masks we paint over our faces to go out into the world. The unchecked baggage that travels with us each moment reminding us of where else we should be and what else we could be doing. In the work toward simplicity, contentment is nowhere to be found.

This summer the Family Path groups are working on creating tables that are reflections of who they are as a family unit. The first gathering each family spent time sharing stories of times when they felt connected to one another and then based on these stories, worked together to decide how they could construct their table in a way that would function as a reminder of this connection. The plans for the tables were amazing; multi-functional designs that featured interchangeable family photos, pockets to hold technology reflecting a commitment to be present to one another at the table, creative ways to provide space for each family member to make an artistic contribution to their table design. We all left with our plans and our tables. In two weeks, we would gather back together and share pictures of our tables with each other.

I will confess that I felt an extreme sense of compassionate solidarity and relief when none of the other families returned with pictures of their tables. Although, I had planned to blame my husband for the fact that all we had done was take our IKEA table out of the plastic wrap, knowing that none of the other families had had time to work on theirs was permission enough to extend the deadline indefinitely.

We all struggle with competing responsibilities demanding our constant attention. The cost of this perpetual tension becomes our habitual focus on all the things we are unable to do while discounting most of what we are doing. I will admit that I spend so much time thinking about what I am not able to do, that the things that I am doing seem to have little to no value. I may have too much stuff, but it still doesn’t seem to be enough.

Everyone would like a life of simplicity. Few, if any of us, have any clue how to make this happen.

So here is my first insight on simplicity.

Simplicity is something everyone would like, but few have achieved because what we do does not give us simplicity. This is not an original thought and, in my opinion, this is also not the best news.  

In his book, Freedom of Simplicity, Richard Foster writes, “If simplicity were merely a matter of externals, things would be quite easy. We would then need only to formulate the system that defines the boundary: Christian faithfulness would allow us to live in this income bracket but not that one, to purchase this house but not that one. We would have a clearly definable arrangement, even if it would need periodic adjustment to keep abreast of inflation. It would be clear who is in and who is out, who is faithful and who is not. Presto, a new pharisaism. Very fine, thank you.”

Here is my second insight.

What we do does not give us simplicity, because simplicity is not something we can produce.

This brings us back to last week’s discussion around GPS technology. Do we use Wealth as that which dictates our choice of direction or do we look to Christ to center us in this world of mazes and cul-de-sacs. After further reflecting on this metaphor over the past week, I think what we are trying to do is utilize the Wealth GPS to try and get to where God hopes for us to be and then are confused when we arrive to the destination. It says I’m here, but I it doesn’t feel quite right.

In fact, the two are have incompatible software being that the are at their core two opposing world views. If wealth feeds on the fuel of our endless consumption, it is Christ that feeds us contentment. 

At the core of these two worldviews is the state of our own humanity. Wealth asks us to start from a place of deficit, that we need something to be whole. God invites us to see ourselves as already whole through the gift we receive in Christ. Wealth as a worldview makes it so much harder to escape-a relearning of our relationship to ourselves and others. There is a difference-God asks us to seek forgiveness for things that we do, wealth convinces us we require forgiveness for that which we are.

According to the worldview of wealth, it would make sense that if we changed behavior, if we did something differently, that we could produce simplicity. If simplicity were a product-something we could produce and purchase. But simplicity is both grace and discipline. Simplicity is given to us by God. The discipline isn’t doing something to produce it but being open to receiving it.

Here is my most recent example of exhausting myself by pulling on the door to simplicity.

For the past two years, I have been working on the spiritual practice of mindfulness. I introduced this practice into my life because I feel a high level of anxiety regarding how fast time seems to be passing. I believed the goal of my mindfulness practice being that time would slow because I would be enjoying it so much. This did not happen. In fact, mindfulness was increasing my anxiety until I realized that I was using mindfulness as if it was magic.

What mindfulness seeks to transform is not the outside world but our inner worlds. I could not slow time, yes, again, in retrospect that sounds incredible ridiculous, but by becoming accepting the temporal nature of life, I would be transformed. I have been trying to control what is around me so that I can be content.

Our scripture message today reminds of us the place in which we would arrive in a life centered on Christ headed toward simplicity, “But as for you, man of God, shun all this; pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness.”

I like that it is pursue. A direct contrast to the dead-end model of consumption. Righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness, these are things that we can neither buy nor perfect and so in pursuing them we are dependent upon Christ.

Shortly after I decided having myself committed to the closet was a good idea, I began to entertain the idea that perhaps we in our endeavor to receive a life of simplicity from the one offering it as a gift to all people, perhaps I need to stop looking at the mess surrounding me as something to be organized, but as something to embrace. The constant chatter of a nine-year-old singing a spontaneous musical in the background, the chirping of a guinea pig anxiously awaiting it’s next meal, the snoring of a dog laying belly up on the leather sofa. All this noise, all this movement, all this life, reminding me that I am a part of something greater, something more. Perhaps the mess is providing the raw materials for the makings of a sacred story and a life well lived. That if we desire the cultivation of contentment perhaps what is required is not a new method of organizing or consuming but an alteration in how we see what is already there.

If simplicity is not something we can do or something we can produce then it is also not something we can control. The spiritual discipline then is a reflection of our ability to be flexible, to live into the space we are given, and to respond with acceptance in all that it offers. This is the pursuit of simplicity; a relinquishing of control toward the way we think things should be and an open response to the way things are.

There were good reasons the tables from the Family Path didn’t get done. The Dingle Family took off to the mountains to get away and be with one another. Becky and Blair were married this past Saturday. The Senter’s took their son to orientation at his new college. The Pape’s listened to the world and changed the vision for what they were creating. John and I lying in bed late one night talking about the passing of time and the reality of all the people we would say goodbye to in our lifetimes, remembered again the age of our parents and organized a pool party and a game night, so that one day we could remember the times we had together when the day arrived when no more invitations we could make.

Instead of hiding away in a closet, closed off to listen to what God is telling us about how to live in the world, perhaps we are called to listen to the noise of the world as evidence of a God still speaking. This week lets relax those spiritual muscles, worn and weary from pulling the weight of all our stuff through the world. Let’s take a moment to catch our breath, and push ourselves to go a deeper into the messy lessons of a Christ-filled life.