Posts Tagged: simplicity

“Living Lightly with God”

I am not good at living lightly.  No matter what the situation, my philosophy is often summed up by the following proverb: “Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.”  While this proverb—like most proverbs—serves me well occasionally, it often creates more problems than it solves.  I tend to pack too many things for vacations and keep too many throw-away bottles because “we might them, and I want to keep them out of landfills.”  I also keep broken equipment, thinking that I will eventually get around to fixing said equipment.  Of course, I rarely do.  I don’t think I’m a hoarder, but I am for sure on the cusp of becoming one.

God is continually reminding me that my life needs to be simpler.  The reason he needs to remind me so often is that I am continually forgetting God’s call to simplicity.  But, am I forgetting or willfully ignoring?  I think I know the answer, and I don’t like it.

Sometimes, it is helpful for me to think in terms of the big picture.  I didn’t have anything or any freedom when I entered this life.  I didn’t even come with a diaper.  And when I die, I won’t have anything, including one more breath or heartbeat.  Meanwhile, everything that I “have” is on loan.

“You are sojourners with me.”  (Leviticus 25:23.) God is speaking to Israel just before they entered the Promised Land.  Israel didn’t own the land.  God did.  And they were living there as resident aliens.

There’s a song by 38 Special called “Hold on loosely.”  The chorus is pretty simple, but also very powerful: “Hold on loosely, but don’t let go.  If you cling too tightly, you’re gonna lose control.”

May I, may we all, hold on loosely today.

“PUTTING YOUR HOUSE ON A DIET”  

 

Getting rid of household stuff and clothes is like putting your house on a diet.” (Suzanne Phillips)

Question: How do you eat an elephant?

Answer:  One bite at a time.”  (Source unknown.)

 

I am in love with simplicity.  However, I worship from afar.  Simplicity and I do not have a personal, intimate relationship.

I guess you could say that I am in love with the idea of simplicity.  The practice of simplicity is another matter.

My friend Suzanne’s comment about “putting your house on a diet” reminds me of how cluttered my work and sleeping area really is.  I would blame the clutter on someone else, except for the fact that I am the only one who is ever up here.  (That’s not entirely true.  My wife comes up occasionally and scares the liver out of me.  Whenever she does, she assures me that she was not trying to scare me—after she pries me off the ceiling.)

But it’s more than clutter in my work and sleeping space.  My whole life needs to go on a diet.

Take my use of time for example: How could I cut some fat of my use of time?  I’m not talking about taking the enjoyment out of my life.  I’m talking about using time more wisely, so that I can enjoy life even more.

Then, there is putting my words on a diet.  I talk too much.  I have known this for a long time.  I’ve wanted to change, but I haven’t.  (That is all I’ve got to say about that.)

They say that confession is good for the soul.  However, I can only stand so much goodness at a time.

So, how can I go on an effective diet?  Wonderful plans and crash diets don’t work for me.  I won’t stay on them.

What does work (when I work it) is making small changes.  My resolve is small, so small changes are what I can manage.

So, right now, I am trying to make small changes in my work/sleeping area.  I moved the recycling container into a nearby storage area.  I am v  e  r  y    s  l  o  w  l   y  thinning out my clothes, taking them to Good Will.

I am banking on the fact that, when I challenge myself to make small, incremental changes, I am much more likely to actually change.

A few years ago, when I had been walking fairly regularly, I decided to run a short way.  The first time, I ran a tenth of a mile—if that.  Then, I resumed walking.  The next day, I decided to run one driveway further than I had the day before.  Each day, I tried to run just a little further.

Eventually, I decided to run a marathon.  In fact, I ran two years in a row.  I didn’t run fast, but I ran (at least part of the time).

It may well be that all important changes, all transformations, boil down to making small changes.

 

 

 

“Downwardly Mobile”

If I were a Roman Catholic, and if I were graced to be part of a (non?)monastic order, I think I would like to be a Franciscan.  (Trappist would be a better bet for crucifying my crazy talkative tongue, but I wouldn’t last ten minutes as a Trappist.)

The reason I think I would like to be a Franciscan is that Saint Francis was so downwardly mobile.

Francis (for some reason, “Francis” sounds better than “Saint Francis” to me) was the son of a wealthy merchant.  He was part of what we would call these days “the upper middle class.”

However, Francis voluntarily embraced poverty and simplicity.  More importantly, Francis embraced people who were poor and simple.  Francis married poverty and simplicity because he believed that this was what Jesus had both done and taught.

I, however, try to find ways around the much-too-clear implications of Jesus’ life and teachings.  Of course, Jesus didn’t mean financial poverty.  No!  He meant spiritual poverty.  Of course, there is a certain amount of discomfort with my line of reasoning in this regard—or is it a line of bologna?  However, my discomfort can always be quelled by something more.  (Since I just mentioned bologna, I suddenly remember that we actually have some bologna.  I think I’ll go downstairs and have a sandwich!)

However, at the center of the Christian faith is a God who was downwardly mobile.  Philippians 2:6-11 is a wonderful pre-Franciscan poem, either written by Paul or quoted by him.

“6 Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to.

7 Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form,

8 he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.

9 Therefore, God elevated him to the place of highest honor and gave him the name above all other names,

10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

It would make me feel better to end with that quote.  Unfortunately, the words before and after this poem are words addressed to the church in ancient Philippi, which also speak to me.  These words nail me to the cross and threaten to keep me there.

1 “Is there any encouragement from belonging to Christ? Any comfort from his love? Any fellowship together in the Spirit? Are your hearts tender and compassionate?

2 Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one mind and purpose.

3 Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves.

4 Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.

5 You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.”

In other words, the introduction to this wonderful passage about God’s downward mobility in Jesus is preceded by the challenge for me to have the same attitude.  I just hate it when the context of a passage from the Bible is this clear!

The verses after the poetry are equally clear and equally discomforting.

“12 Dear friends, you always followed my instructions when I was with you. And now that I am away, it is even more important. Work hard to show the results of your salvation, obeying God with deep reverence and fear.

13 For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.

14 Do everything without complaining and arguing,

15 so that no one can criticize you. Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people.

16 Hold firmly to the word of life; then, on the day of Christ’s return, I will be proud that I did not run the race in vain and that my work was not useless.”

Apparently, Jesus’ downward mobility means that I have to stop complaining and arguing.  Perhaps that is one aspect of embracing poverty and simplicity.

On second thought, I’m glad that I’m not a Franciscan.  If I were, I might have to take seriously the implications of the gospel.

 

 

 

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