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I have too much stuff, and you probably do too.

Okay.


Here's the thing: I have a lot of stuff.


Like, a lot.


Seriously, it's outrageous.


Items ranging from throw blankets, body lotions, fuzzy socks, and journals are strewn about my apartment like they have some sort of right to be multiplying at such an outrageous rate. (Because surely, they're duplicating themselves through some kind of spontaneous replication -- surely, I am not the one who keeps buying more of what I already have!!! I resent the implication!)


It's embarrassing how many t-shirts I have that I don't actually wear. Why do I have SO MANY Christmas pajamas?! I love candles, but do I need 8 of them chilling in my living room?!


I am the first to admit that I have fallen into the trap of consumerism.


This year in particular (yes, only a few months in) I've been leaning heavily on retail therapy. I LOVE buying stuff and spending money. I didn't used to be this way. I used to hoard my money like one of those Gringott's Bank goblins from Harry Potter. I was miserly, son.


But for whatever reason, towards the end of 2020, I started shopping more and more (I'm looking at you, Target and Amazon) and I found myself turning towards material items to help me feel better if I was stressed or overwhelmed.


I've been trying to cut back on my obnoxious spending because I'm nothing if not self-aware when it comes to my toxic habits. Thinking about my excessive spending led to me thinking about our spending in general here in the States.



We are trapped in the machine of excess -- we are a nation of feast, though we cry famine. According to the Foundation for Economic Freedom, "We are so economically exceptional that the poorest 20% of Americans are richer than many of the world's most affluent nations." We are so, so unbelievably wealthy. Most of us don't think twice about our relative ease when it comes to accessing clean water. Most of us have more than one pair of pants or shoes, and a roof over our heads.


In another article from Forbes, we're told that, "Even if you're stuck in the bottom 5% of the US income distribution your standard of living is about equal to that of the top 5% of Indians. Even if you're in the bottom 10% your standard of living is about the same as that of the bottom 10% in other rich countries (which, so we are told, care so much more and do so much more) like Sweden and Finland. And when we sweep everything together into some sort of quality of life measure the American poor are better off than the French or German poor."*


If you're reading this, then you have access to Internet and a computer or a smart-phone. You are blessed. WE are blessed. And here we are -- hoarding our blessings as if they will run out, or as if they aren't good enough so we demand more. As if God didn't tell us that if we own two coats, one belongs to the poor.** As if we don't trust God to provide what we need and satisfy our wants with Himself.


What are we doing, friends? Why are we trapped in the claws of this beast that demands we spend more and more and more on things we really don't need while the rest of the world lives in abject poverty? Countries like Benin are home to people who live on less than $1.90 a day. In Eritrea, less than half of its population has access to electricity, and there are roughly only 14 cell-phone subscriptions per 100 people.


Burundi, with a population of almost 11 million, only makes about $686 per-capita, and the life expectancy is below 60. And out of every 100,000 births, at least 712 women will die in delivery.


I hear these statistics, and my soul aches with a homesickness for Heaven, I can't even begin to explain it.


I ask God why I should be so lucky as to live in the wealthiest country in the world, to come from a middle-class family with a mother and father who are still together, when there are 153 million orphans living in our world today? I've never known hunger or nakedness or shame due to my living conditions. I hear these statistics and am wracked with guilt. God, why should I thrive while my brothers and sisters suffer? Why should I be healthy when there are 36 million adults living with AIDS? When there are 20 million people fighting addiction?


In my greed and in my arrogance, I hand over my card to the machine because more is always more, and because I can. I tell myself this skirt will make me happy, this perfume will make me pretty. My consumption distracts me from the problem of lost souls and brokenness that exists here.


I have too much stuff. I imagine you do, too.


I'm going to fight back against the trap of consumerism, though. I'm going to donate clothes, bags, shoes, etc. to our local shelters. I'm going to use the power of my dollar by saying no to unethical businesses or big-box chains. I'm going to shop locally, funneling my funds back into my community. And while I'm just one person taking a small stand against the cycle of stuff, if we all took small stands, maybe we'd be that yeast Jesus talks about; the kind that slowly infects our culture and changes it from the inside out. Maybe we can be the roses that grow from the concrete -- beautiful, subservient, buckers of the system. Let's be ragamuffins who challenge the standard or the norm.


**Luke 3:11


 
 
 

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