Excerpt for IWU student study in Spiritual Formation/LCE class

—from the book Unveiled Faces by Keith Drury

Simplicity

Simplicity

Simplicity is intentionally paring down our lifestyle toward the essentials, freeing us from the “tyranny of things” so we can focus more on the spiritual. Few disciplines go against the grain of our culture yet provide greater freedom than this one. The simple life is easier and less complicated to live. The simple life enables us to focus on more important things. We abandon our preoccupation with the latest gadgets, styles and must-have symbols of success in order to focus on the lasting things. In a culture that preaches piling up treasure as the route to happiness it is our statement of objection—that we believe happiness is not found in the abundance of our possessions but in the fewness of our wants. When we practice this discipline we find the freedom and joy of the uncomplicated life. We will come to have “single eye” and our focus will increasingly be on God and eternal things rather than ourselves and material things.

Our simplicity heritage

Jesus is the ultimate example of simplicity. What were His possessions? Where was His home? What forms of transportation did he use? Gandhi is often honored for his simple life enabling him to carry everything he owned in a simple linen bag. Jesus did not even have a bag. His estate included a simple seamless garment—and a worldwide religion. His disciples took on the discipline of simplicity too. The early church spread as Christ’s followers sold their possessions and served others. Churches sprung up who became known for sharing possessions and caring for widows and orphans. People were attracted to these communities of love who acted as if material possessions were not that important. The Christians in Jerusalem “did not treat their possessions as their own” and they typified the early church for several hundred years. The “desert fathers” denied themselves all the comforts of life in order to focus on their relationship with God. Later, for more than a thousand years monasteries became places where individuals abandoned the worries of personal possessions and gave themselves to worship, study and service. The lineage of simplicity has a long history in the church and is traced right back to Jesus Christ Himself. When we take up this discipline we join a long line of several thousand years of dedicated Christians.

Temporal idolatry

We might ask, “Shouldn’t the Christian life be one of celebration and happiness not a stern life of denial?” Of course the Christian life is one of joy. Our error is in believing material possessions bring this sort of joy. We are told by our culture that we can achieve happiness by collecting the possessions of the good life. But our possessions all turn to dust and rust. We eventually discover that we are no happier than we were when we had nothing. Maybe we are even less happy. So we sit surrounded by our pile of possessions with an empty soul. Happiness and freedom is not found in piling up possessions but in a simple life of trust. The more we possess the greater we will rely on our possessions and the less we will rely on God. Materialism sets itself up as an idol in the temple of our heart proclaiming, “What good is the spiritual world—you can’t eat it, wear it, or live in it?” To tear down this idol we adopt habits of simplicity that affirm eternal and spiritual values dethroning the material. Like adding a tiny drop of poison to our coffee each day, materialism slowly poisons our souls. Dimness of soul eventually becomes “normal.” We will no longer even know what it is like to sense the deeper and more important things of life. However, when we intentionally reject the falsehoods of the material life and practice simplicity—even a little of it—we take the antidote and are freed from the tyranny of the temporal. In the process we become reacquainted with the spiritual and eternal.

Mutiny of possessions

We pile up possessions to serve us yet eventually become servants of our possessions. Our culture teaches us that the material matters most so we collect possessions that are supposed to satisfy. Yet we experience a strange disappointment once we’ve got them. They do not measure up to their advertisements. So we think the next thing will satisfy us more. This is how we mount the treadmill of materialism. We constantly gather possessions thinking the next perchance will satisfy us more. But the faster we collect things the less satisfied we are. It is like drinking seawater, the more we drink the thirstier we get. Finally we realize a strange thing has happened—our possessions have come to posses us. The garage door opener breaks and commands us to arrange for its repair. The lawn mower does not start and orders us to get it fixed. The automobile insists we schedule a trip to change its oil. We obey. There has been a mutiny! Our possessions have taken over. We are no longer the captains of our ship but have been imprisoned by our possessions—we now work for them. We have become possessions of our possessions, slaves of our slaves. Taking on habits of simplicity breaks us free of the tyranny of the material and helps us regain control from these supposed servants which run our lives.

Breaking free

The older we are the harder it is to escape bondage to material possessions. Collecting becomes habitual. After decades it is a habit hard to beak. When struggling with this issue E. B. White observed that his house was like a tank with a check valve that only allowed possessions to enter but the valve prevented the outflow of possessions. So we pile up until we move to a nursing home or die and our children toss out our junk wagging their heads saying, “Now why did they keep that?” Adopting habits of simplicity keeps the books current—it gets rid of our stuff as new stuff comes in. Better yet, simplicity discards possessions without replacing them. When we adopt habits of simplicity we break loose from these burdens and experience the joy of traveling light. Sometimes we simply have to walk away from our bigger barns to find joy.

Frugality, poverty and simplicity

Of course all of us can’t take a vow of poverty and we shouldn’t. The evil is not in things themselves, but in our excessive absorption with them. Taking up habits of simplicity breaks the bondage of the material—even adopting just a few habits can do so. The classic approach to this discipline offers three related disciplines. First there is frugality, the careful use of money for necessities in order to get the greatest value. The frugal person gets the “best bang for the buck” or doesn’t even spend the buck at all if the thing isn’t really needed. However as good as frugality is, it is not automatically a virtue. A materialist can be frugal—in order to save up for themselves. Indeed most all misers are frugal. Frugality is a good trait only if placed in the service of generosity. A second related trait is voluntary poverty. In this case we do not mean being poor so much as choosing poverty. Monks took such a vow, actually three vows: to poverty, chastity, and obedience (thus addressing three great temptations of life—money, sex and power). They abstained from personal ownership of anything at all—even their writing tablet was owned collectively. Few of us can be so radical unless we live in some sort of commune or Christian community. And even if we did, we may not become totally free of materialism. Many religious orders eventually faced a dimness of soul because they merely replaced personal materialism with collective materialism—some monasteries became fabulously wealthy over time. Why care if I own nothing personally if my community owns all kinds of lavish possessions and lets me use them? So even in a vow of poverty there is a snare of materialism. Probably we all should practice some frugality. And a few of us might take a vow of poverty. But every one of us can practice simplicity—intentionally reducing the hold material things have on us. In the process we clear the clutter of our lives away and can find God and trust him better.

Relative simplicity

So, where can we find the sensible middle ground on simplicity? We can’t all become monks. We have family to consider, and retirement and other obligations. How much is too much? How far should we go in unpiling our treasure on earth? Certainly this discipline must be tailored personally. Moderate simplicity to a Christian in Rangoon might look like abject poverty to the Christian in suburban Chicago. Living a simple life in North Carolina might appear to be wanton excess to the Christian in Bangladesh. However even among our friends attending our own local church there are varying tolerations for simplicity. “Oh, I could never do without that” is what we say when describing what we think is a necessity. One person’s necessity may be their neighbor’s luxury. So we will have to apply this discipline personally and be careful of being judgmental in how others live. Most of us feel the grip of materialism and sense our own addiction to nice things. Taking even small steps to reverse materialism’s clutch can bring at least some small freedom. Freedom breeds greater freedom. Once we start on this path, turning back is unlikely. Certainly nobody can set absolute standards for others, but that does not mean we are free to set no standards at all for ourselves. Simplicity may be relative, but it is not optional—at least for the people following Jesus Christ, who taught such radical notions about possessions.

Simplicity as moderation

Like so many solutions, moderation is the answer. When we adopt the discipline of simplicity we will not toss out everything including all our clothes and keeping only a single change of clothes. That may have worked in Jesus’ time but few of us seriously think that is how He could dress in today’s world. For most of us simplicity of dress has to do with moderation than essentials. Of course one change of clothing would be all that is essential. But few of us could survive in modern life on only the essentials—our world doesn’t work that way. The discipline of simplicity moves us toward the essentials. It is a journey against materialism that most of us will never complete. At least we won’t complete the journey until death. We’ll complete it then. For the Christian, death is the final downsizing. All downsizing we do before then is only preparation. We will take nothing with us. Yes, we need some things now—probably more than Jesus had, but how many changes of clothing do we need? How many internal combustion engines do we own (or own us)? Two? Four? Five? Do we need so many? The discipline of simplicity leads us to determine how much we really need and to move toward having only what we need and nothing more. Taking on the discipline of simplicity in our modern world is more about moderation than total abstinence. In simplicity we abstain from material excess—from collecting things as if they provided happiness and meaning. Only God can give us the happiness and meaning we crave.

Following our heart

We should remind ourselves that possessions themselves are not wrong—it is loving our possessions that brings danger. The problem is we can’t serve two masters—God and possessions. Jesus said it clearly. He taught us that our hearts follow our treasure. It is hard for our heart to care about the eternal and spiritual when it is caring about the temporal and material. This is why we start disciplines of simplicity—to break free from the mastery of materialism and refocus our eye on God. And in ridding ourselves of the things we thought would make us happy we find truer and deeper happiness in God.

How to start practicing this discipline.

1. Don’t start. Are you a single person or young couple and you own little more than a stack of CDs, a worn out computer and two old chairs you got from your aunt? Do you have far more debt than you’re worth and all your possessions in this world still fit in the back seat of your beat-up car? How do you apply this discipline? You stay simple. You decide now the sort of lifestyle you believe is sensible and determine to not surpass it. Write your picture down and put it in your Bible so you can remember what you agreed to years later when you are able to afford having a whole moving van load of things.

2. Say no. Pick one purchase every day and say no, even something as small as a soft drink. Not because buying things is wrong, but to break the bondage of the notion that a purchase will make you happier.

3. Inventory your house. Simply walk through your house with boxes or a wheelbarrow and take out things you have not used in a year, or two years, or whatever is your time limit. If you have not worn a sweater in a year should you really keep it? If that tool has not been used for two years, why hoard it? Gather a pile of unused possessions somewhere—but don’t put it in your attic, give it away in some way. Voluntary poverty or simplicity is not just the act of getting rid of things – it’s a means toward generosity

4. Plan a garage sale. Perhaps a garage sale is a way to toss out your extra baggage—having one, not visiting one to collect more stuff! Some Christians have one every year and give the income to missions.

5. Sort boxes from your last move. Do you still have unpacked boxes from your last move—or even two moves ago? If so, schedule an hour this week (and every week until you are finished) to sort, toss or give away those things your children will have to sort anyway when you go to a nursing home. If now is not a good time to start, when will be a better time? Do you really think you’ll do it better when you’re middle aged, or retired or just before you enter a nursing home?

6. Plan a backpacking trek. Most of us are unable to practice “severe simplicity” like John the Baptist, Jesus and the early Church fathers did. But we can experience a week or longer by taking a backpacking trek. If you are physically able consider trying a week or more carrying only the necessities on your back—and watch how what you thought were “necessities” turn into “luxuries” once you are carrying the load on your shoulders. Let this become a lesson for life. Few experiences today offer as much similarity with the first century approach to simplicity as backpacking.

7. Begin downsizing. If you agree that an overabundance of possessions is actually a burden then you might take this discipline even more seriously—by starting to downsize your lifestyle in a serious way. Give away the extra furniture cluttering your house to a young couple. Or give it to the Salvation Army. Find a young person who has no tools and give them your extra set of socket wrenches, or maybe even your only set if you’ve not been using it. Get rid of all that stuff you have in your self-storage. Why pay rent to store things that will eventually get tossed out? Check the attic, garage and basement asking, “Why save this?” Give yourself permission to buy things again if you find out later that “just when I tossed it out I needed it.” Maybe even consider moving to a smaller house that makes you downsize automatically. Again, do not take up this discipline because having little will make you holy—but because having less will free you to be happier and in order to give away to those in need. It will be a testimony that the spiritual is more important to you than the material. And you’ll get closer to God

Now, what about you? What are your specific plans to practice this discipline this week?

Helps for teaching and leading your class or small group through this chapter are located at the back of this book.