Write About Now

Moving day, more than any other day, makes you keenly aware of how much junk you really own.

On Saturday my mom and dad and some good friends helped me (finally) move into my new house, a process that involved carrying roughly 3,267 boxes of stuff plus two couches, three chairs, a desk, four bookshelves, an iron bed frame and the heaviest dining room table ever made. As I do every time I move (this was the fifth one in eleven years), I found myself amazed at how much I’ve accumulated—14 antique china place settings and three matching salad plates (Grandma was prone to dropping things). Dozens of books I fully intend to read. Half-used hair products. Barbie dolls with complete outfits. The original packaging for Standard’s 1984 VBS craft kit featuring my smiling face.

So, some seriously good stuff. 

And I wondered again, for at least the fifth time, if it’s wrong to have so much when most of the world has so little.

I’ve written about this before, and reading a blog post by Steve Denney stirred up the same questions. He quotes from Peter Singer, who asserts that while all of us would rush into a pond to save a drowning toddler without hesitating to worry about ruining our nice shoes, many of us struggle to metaphorically “wade in” and help save the 10 million children under five who die from poverty each year.

“Prompted by the pages of Singer’s book, it just seems wrong that I buy bottled water when I can get it from the tap,” Steve writes. “That I waste money on coffee.  That I throw away food that I cannot eat (or don’t want to eat).”

I’m reminded of Schindler’s List, when the war ends and Oskar Schindler realizes every belonging he kept—each ring, each car, each suit—could have rescued another Jew from the death camps. When I watch that movie I condemn him; of course he should have sold the gold ring and flashy car to save more people. When lives are at stake, shouldn’t someone give all he can?

Steve’s point is people still die, and we face the same choices. Shouldn’t we give all we can?

But if I get rid of everything, I’ll be poor and others will have to take care of me. So that’s not the answer. Do I keep just enough to live on and give away the rest? Define “live on”—what does that include? Rice and beans and a vitamin pill, or can I have steak and ice cream occasionally? How often? Yes, coffee IS a necessity, but how about soda? One a week?

What about health insurance and retirement savings? I trust God to take care of me, but often He does that by allowing me to plan responsibly.  Is it a sin to live modestly yet keep megabucks in my IRA?

The real question is when “enough” becomes excess. We all spend money on non-essentials, and it’s easy to judge others. Some could see my move as an acquisitional move up, although my new mortgage payment is actually less than my rent and in many ways this purchase was about good stewardship. On the other hand, a few of my friends recently sold their own houses, downsized to rentals or condos, and give the difference to causes they care about.

Like Steve, I have become increasingly aware of just how much money I waste. But with each passing year, each passing move, I also become convinced this is one more gray area in a faith we often prefer black and white. Enough becomes too much when it becomes more important than obedience to Christ, and He asks each of us to sacrifice in different ways. I’m glad He hasn’t asked me to give up coffee yet.