Stuffed
God has been working on my heart lately in some important areas. I thought I'd enjoy a quiet Saturday lunch with my leftover carton of Singapore noodles from Asia Grille (yum!) and a good book. I finished lunch very full--full of food and full of remorse. I love you Singapore noodles, but the 8.70 I spent on you could have made a meal for five at home.
I've been reading Jen Hatmaker's new book called 7: an experimental mutiny against excess. And let me tell you, if you haven't already been turned off by American consumerism, haven't already been feeling uneasy about the way we live (or shall I say spend?) our lives, then this book will do you in. I've read many like it, such as Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (a book all conscientious food lovers ought to read), and I've been trying to make changes in our habits slowly and gradually over the years. But I don't think slowly and gradually works very well for me, because slowly and gradually I forget why it is better to spend 4.99 on eco-friendly dishwasher tabs instead of 1.99 on a generic brand. And I forget why buying local (which is not budget friendly) is more than a hip trend. And I forget that the cardigan I scored for $5 on clearance likely came to my hands by unethical labor practices in another country. And I slowly and gradually slip back into old habits that are more comfortable because they save time and money and angst. It's easier not to think about my consumer choices because then a five dollar find at a chain store is just that--a great deal. I like the feeling of money saved a lot better than the feeling of a deal that came off the backs of people living in abject poverty thousands of miles from me. That red sweater that makes me feel new and fresh doesn't feel so great when I think about the kind of life the person who made it for me likely leads. Sigh. I like my stuff. I like to shop. I often find myself wishing I had more.
Startling fact: If you make $35,000 a year or more, then you are among the world's wealthiest, the top 4%, in fact. If you make $50,000 or more annually, then you reside in the top 1% of the world's wealth (Hatmaker 3). Are you somewhere in those statistics? I know I am.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg, because what I choose to do with that wealth perpetuates the engine that drives the cycle of world poverty, human trafficking, ecological decline, and greed. My habits are making the least of these poorer, hungrier, sicker. They are depleting Creation at alarming rates, promising that water shortages will soon become a problem the world over, not just in third world countries. You think I exaggerate? I do not.
It's crazy, because I've known all this for a long time. But it's not terribly popular news. It's counter cultural. It ruins my fun. And talking about it, well, let's just say it's not exactly cheery dinner conversation. But the re-wake up call is hitting me full in the face this time, and it is very humbling. One reason this might be happening is that in the past, I've thought of social justice as "the right thing to do" as a Christian. I think I've underestimated the imperative. Because if we are Christians, living justly is the only thing to do. And the kind of justice Jesus calls for in the Bible is very un-American. I've listened to many sermons on giving in the past, and hands down they affirm that it is OK to enjoy our wealth so long as we are prayerfully giving to the work of the Kingdom. OK, but what does that mean? And what should it mean? I have a hunch that it does not look like the American Church in its current state.
This household is going to make some important adjustments in the next months and we'll be getting back to you on how that's going from time to time, reporting on successes and failures along the way. For now, read 7, or better yet, pick up the Bible with new eyes. You won't put either down unchanged.
"God, may we be focused on the least, a people balancing the fasting and the feast."
K is squawking upstairs in his bed. Mark and girls have just walked in with a gust of wind, all rosy cheeks and energy...and whining, and E has aptly announced, "Mommy's quiet time is over!" So it is.
Happy weekend!
I've been reading Jen Hatmaker's new book called 7: an experimental mutiny against excess. And let me tell you, if you haven't already been turned off by American consumerism, haven't already been feeling uneasy about the way we live (or shall I say spend?) our lives, then this book will do you in. I've read many like it, such as Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (a book all conscientious food lovers ought to read), and I've been trying to make changes in our habits slowly and gradually over the years. But I don't think slowly and gradually works very well for me, because slowly and gradually I forget why it is better to spend 4.99 on eco-friendly dishwasher tabs instead of 1.99 on a generic brand. And I forget why buying local (which is not budget friendly) is more than a hip trend. And I forget that the cardigan I scored for $5 on clearance likely came to my hands by unethical labor practices in another country. And I slowly and gradually slip back into old habits that are more comfortable because they save time and money and angst. It's easier not to think about my consumer choices because then a five dollar find at a chain store is just that--a great deal. I like the feeling of money saved a lot better than the feeling of a deal that came off the backs of people living in abject poverty thousands of miles from me. That red sweater that makes me feel new and fresh doesn't feel so great when I think about the kind of life the person who made it for me likely leads. Sigh. I like my stuff. I like to shop. I often find myself wishing I had more.
Startling fact: If you make $35,000 a year or more, then you are among the world's wealthiest, the top 4%, in fact. If you make $50,000 or more annually, then you reside in the top 1% of the world's wealth (Hatmaker 3). Are you somewhere in those statistics? I know I am.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg, because what I choose to do with that wealth perpetuates the engine that drives the cycle of world poverty, human trafficking, ecological decline, and greed. My habits are making the least of these poorer, hungrier, sicker. They are depleting Creation at alarming rates, promising that water shortages will soon become a problem the world over, not just in third world countries. You think I exaggerate? I do not.
It's crazy, because I've known all this for a long time. But it's not terribly popular news. It's counter cultural. It ruins my fun. And talking about it, well, let's just say it's not exactly cheery dinner conversation. But the re-wake up call is hitting me full in the face this time, and it is very humbling. One reason this might be happening is that in the past, I've thought of social justice as "the right thing to do" as a Christian. I think I've underestimated the imperative. Because if we are Christians, living justly is the only thing to do. And the kind of justice Jesus calls for in the Bible is very un-American. I've listened to many sermons on giving in the past, and hands down they affirm that it is OK to enjoy our wealth so long as we are prayerfully giving to the work of the Kingdom. OK, but what does that mean? And what should it mean? I have a hunch that it does not look like the American Church in its current state.
This household is going to make some important adjustments in the next months and we'll be getting back to you on how that's going from time to time, reporting on successes and failures along the way. For now, read 7, or better yet, pick up the Bible with new eyes. You won't put either down unchanged.
"God, may we be focused on the least, a people balancing the fasting and the feast."
K is squawking upstairs in his bed. Mark and girls have just walked in with a gust of wind, all rosy cheeks and energy...and whining, and E has aptly announced, "Mommy's quiet time is over!" So it is.
Happy weekend!