I Have Because I Don't Want

Half-way through a canvassing week. Worked in the downtown today, with a film crew in tow.

Thinking about all the happenings of the day, remembering all the houses I drove by, all the stop signs I stopped at, all the credit card transactions I ran. Remembering the rush of admiration felt at seeing a huge, beautiful mansion of a house...wondering what my life would have been like if I had grown up in a rich subdivision...

Josh climbs into the van out of the summer heat, leans back with a sigh, then jumps forward suddenly with alarm, "Yo, GMDoe!!" 

(This is my newest nickname. It has something to do with my having a "rack" because my name is like "rac-kell", and only bucks have racks, but since I'm a doe, I must be genetically modified; therefore GMDoe. Josh made it up.)

He has noticed that the A/C is on the low setting. I quickly turn it back up for him and he relaxes, "I support air conditioning!" 

I laugh, and wait until he gets out to turn it down again. After sitting in the van with cold air continually blowing on my face, I get tired of it. Dropping him off into the hot, humid day outside, I continue driving through rich neighborhoods. 

Imagining the huge rooms, lush carpets, banisters, and chandeliers, the gorgeous lawns...never having to wonder if your house will flip over in a strong wind. 

Never having to wonder how long it will be until you can buy what you need and want. 

I wonder what it would be like to have everything that I could ever want...

But my daydreaming doesn't last very long because as soon as I put myself into the shoes of someone who has all the money and things they want, I feel an irresistible urge to kick the shoes back off again. I actually have right now everything I want. I don't want a fancy car; I wouldn't be able to have fun with it. I don't need a huge room; that's just more space to collect stuff. I don't want a perfect lawn, because I wouldn't stay inside of it anyways. I don't need an expensive wardrobe; it would just make me stressed out when I damage my clothes. 

I don't need all the technology, interior design and architecture...the forest and hills have more, better of, and more durable and inexpensive kinds of that. 

I just don't even want that money. 

Even in heaven; the only reason I would want a big, fancy house is so people can come and stay there. 

I used to live in a big house, but now I'm happy with a trailer. 

I am fine with my little tiny room, full of books and interesting artifacts. It's ok to walk from room to room in the trailer and notice the floor slants different ways. It's nice to have a tiny kitchen; easier to clean it. The bathroom windows don't close, so the heat of summer or cold of winter keeps you from staying there too long. 

It feels amazing to be content with little. 

Even now, I know I have too much stuff; possessions that possess me. Living like a homeless person has always sounded exciting to me, but now it seems even more attractive. Of course, that's a rather extreme version of living simply, but the freedom and mobility seems very appealing to me. I don't think everyone should be that minimalistic! But the principle of less being more still deserves more thought than we give it. 

The less stuff you have, the more brain space you can use to think about important things. The less indebted you are to yourself. The more free you are to really live, grow, and fulfill your divinely-given purpose. 

Honestly, and maybe I'm just putting too much weight on this, but I believe that living with the mindset and actions of  minimalism is a revealing statement of your religious beliefs. 

As is living without them. 

Do you trust God to enough take care of you that you can deny your wants and give your means to others' legitimate needs? Or are your eyes and your discontentment your god?