Paper Clutter

Our desktop computer is in the shop….again.  The problem with the “again” part (aside from owning a clearly defective computer) is that it was taken someplace new to be repaired.  The “someplace new” required proof of purchase.  Of course I have the receipt, right?

Well, yes, I did have the receipt.  Unfortunately, it took me approximately fifteen to twenty minutes, looking in no less than ten spots in five different rooms, before I located it.  (It turned out to be exactly where it was supposed to be….long story.)  As I was digging through files and piles of paper, I was getting more and more irritated.  I really did clean out when we moved!  I thought I’d been staying on top of this!  How can we possibly still  have a Windows ’98 start-up guide?

In fairness to myself, we’ve been moving the “office” to an area of the kitchen, and so things are spread out much more than they normally are.  I don’t mean that to be an excuse, but the perfectionist in me needs to recognize that transitions are difficult.  It’s made it obvious to me, though, that even if I purged three years ago, it’s clearly time to do it again now:  especially if things are going to work well in the new area.

Why is paper so hard to deal with?  I think that the amount that comes into our homes, and the rate at which it comes, stacks the deck against us.  Even if I’m great at throwing junk mail into the recycling bin immediately (which I am), that still leaves “important” financial papers to be filed.  I’ve managed to curb most of those by going paperless, but somehow a few still come through.  And heaven forbid we get rid of anything pertaining to taxes; I feel like we’ve been brainwashed into thinking we’ve all got an audit looming just around the corner, so you’d better not throw those records out!  Paper clutter is the worst, I think, for the idea that “This is important!  You might need it someday!”  At its base is an issue of security; feeling safer because you have a file cabinet full of “just in case.”

I did a quick search on my Bible app and discovered that the word “trust” is used in the Psalms sixty-nine times.  None of those verses say anything about trusting in files and paperwork.  (But you knew that, right?)  The first three references that come up:

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.”  (Psalm 20:7)

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”  (Psalm 56:3)

“In God I trust and am not afraid.  What can man do to me?”  (Psalm 56:11)

I’m closing with the words of Christ in John 14:1:  “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God; trust also in me.”

(If you’ll excuse me, I need to clean out some files.)

 

The 100-Item Challenge

I remember reading a few months back about a “100-item challenge,” where minimalists were encouraging each other to pare down to only one hundred possessions.  Upon first reading, I burst out laughing—I have a hundred items in my two china cabinets!  (Turns out I only have fifty-six, but you get the idea.)  The more I read, the more I had to laugh.  Except for a few people who truly took this idea very seriously, it seemed that there were addendums and caveats around everything.  I understood how two shoes could equal one pair, but things started to get fuzzier when a set of plates—either four or eight—could be counted as “one” item.  My favorite exception was to not count the things the family shared.  Um…..that’s pretty much my entire house.

I appreciate the idea, though; the thought that the less we have, the more freedom we have.  And I was reminded of the challenge when I was reading the “Simplicity” chapter of The Pursuit of Discipline, by Richard Foster.   “De-accumulate!  Masses of things that are not needed complicate life.  They must be sorted and stored and dusted and re-sorted and re-stored ad nauseum.  Most of us could get rid of half our possessions without any serious sacrifice.”  (p. 92)

That, to me, is a challenge.  That is a concrete, specific, doable idea, with very little “fuzziness.”  That means half our books…. half our CD’s….half our shirts, pants, sweaters, etc…half the stuff in the china cabinets…..[Sentimentality enters, stage left:  “But, but, but!!!!”]  There are a concrete number of things we own, which can then be divided by two.  Is it possible?  Could I actually get rid of half of all these things “without any serious sacrifice”?

Richard Foster reminds us, in that same chapter, that “if our goods are not available to the community when it is clearly right and good, then they are stolen goods.”  Keep that idea in the back of your mind the next time you open a cabinet or closet.  I will be.

Thoughts on Thoughts

Philippians 4:8:  “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” 

The Bible Reader’s Companion defines the words this way:  “the true, which is the reliable and honest; the noble, or worthy of respect; the right, which conforms to God’s standards and merits approval; the pure, which is moral and chaste; the lovely, which is pleasing and agreeable; the admirable, which is worthy of praise.”  (p. 809)

Look around at your surroundings for one minute.  Do they contribute to your ability to think such positive thoughts?  Are the rooms around you worthy of respect?  Do they merit approval?  Are they pleasing, agreeable, and worthy of praise?  It’s hard to think true, noble, and admirable thoughts when you are continually surrounded by “I need to” and “I should have,”  “I hate this” and “what a mess.”

One of the best benefits of getting rid of overwhelming clutter is the freedom in your mind:  the weight, the burden that is lifted off of you, where you are suddenly able to focus on better things.  Instead of drowning and being dragged down, you’re light, free and clear.  The negative thoughts are gone, and you’re able to think on the right, lovely, and admirable.

Can you imagine what this world would be like if everyone could live by this verse?

Fruits of the Spirit

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also….No one can serve two masters.  Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.  You cannot serve both God and Money” (Matthew 6:19-24).

When I think of treasures in heaven, I’m reminded of the fruits of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22:  “…love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”  I’m amazed at how many of those “fruits” can work hand-in-hand with simplifying and uncluttering our homes.

Love and gentleness:  with love and gentleness, we can look at others in compassion, see a need, and give of what we have.

Joy:  the joy that comes not only from giving, but in the freedom of having less to care for, keep up, and worry about.

Peace:  the peace that comes from not being surrounded by, and overwhelmed by, too many things.

Patience:  the patience we learn as we rely on Him to supply our needs, in His time.

Kindness and goodness:  again, as we see others in need and are able to share, providing for them through our abundance.

Faithfulness:  As we walk faithfully with God, we will learn to trust Him more to provide for our needs, and we can faithfully and continually give to others as He gives us even more than enough.

Self-control:  This one sometimes hurts.  This is the one where we turn away from excess, where we learn to recognize our true needs from a want, where we walk away from the idea of “more is better.”  Exercising self-control as we simplify means we evaluate every purchase we make, and ask questions.  Will this truly make my life simpler?  Is this a need, or a temporary desire?  Can I do without it?

Those questions kept coming to mind as I wrestled with whether to buy a rug for our living room’s hardwood floors.  Will this truly make my life simpler?  No.  It would give me one more area to vacuum, and I would still need to sweep around the edges, where all the dog fur would be accumulating on a regular basis.  It would be one more carpeted surface to stain if anything spilled on it.  It would be a good-sized chunk out of our bank account; money that could definitely go to better places, right?  And yet….our poor dog, ninety-one-years-old in dog years, could definitely use the more solid surface of a carpet as he struggles to get his three-good-legs arthritic furry body around.  It would make his life much simpler.  So round and round I went….  Thinking—really thinking–before you buy is not much fun.  But I do think it gives us a deeper appreciation for our things, and leads us to buying more wisely.

We did finally break down and buy the rug I’d been looking at for months.  Money out of our bank account?  Check; though not as much as it could have been.  One more thing to stain?  Well, check, though nothing’s happened yet.  (Knock on wood.)  One more area to vacuum:  check; which has proven to be not a big deal.  It’s a good, heavy rug with backing on it; it’s not going anywhere if I run a vacuum over it.

Here’s the thing, though:  that rug has turned our living room into a place where everyone wants to hang out.  Suddenly, the middle of the floor is the place to be.  My husband and I sit and read in our “spots,” and the kids are lying on the floor, reading and playing.  My daughter has commented more than once, “Mommy!  The whole family is in here!”—meaning dogs, too.   It’s been such a joy to have that happen that I have absolutely no regrets about buying that rug.  If anything, I wish we’d bought it sooner—but would I have as great an appreciation for it if I had?

Choked by Thorns

Matthew 19:21 tells us that Jesus explained to a rich man, “ ‘If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.  Then come, follow me.”  The Bible Reader’s Companion states that “When he [the rich young man] rejected the command of Christ, he broke the ‘first and great’ commandment of the Law:  to love and serve God with his whole heart.  Christ’s command revealed to the young man and to us that his money rather than his God came first.”  It goes on to explain that “God doesn’t command us to give everything away.  But we are to abandon all.  There is to be nothing in our life that is so precious it keeps us from doing God’s will.”

I sometimes think that the sheer amount of things in our lives can keep us from doing God’s will.  My daughter told me about the Bible story they did in class one Sunday:  Jesus’ parable of the sower and the four different kinds of soil, found in Matthew 13:3-9.  I was so proud as she told me each one of the soils—the path, rocky, thorny, and the good soil—although I wasn’t sure she quite had a grasp on exactly what each meant, except the “good soil,” where God could work in someone’s heart.

I think I’ve reached a place in my life where I’m recognizing the many thorns that have grown up around me.  Not that God isn’t working in my life—I think he is, and I think down deep I have good soil.  I do think, however, that the accumulation of “thorns” has been so slow and so gradual that I’m suddenly looking around as if seeing them for the first time.  I think about starting out our marriage eating off a card table.  Now we have a kitchen table and a dining room table, with the card table residing in the basement, pulled out for holidays when we need that extra space.  Moving, very gradually, from a one-bedroom apartment to a two-bedroom (tiny!) apartment to a small, three-bedroom house…on and on it goes, so slowly, so gradually, but so steadily.  Then one day you look around and wonder when it happened; when did you get so surrounded by “thorns” that it’s starting to interfere with Him?  It makes me want to pull off all the excess, to cut back the weeds and thorns, to rid myself of all of it, completely, and return to being simple, good, rich soil.  What could He do with me if He had that kind of soil to work with?  What could He do if He were unencumbered—if I were unencumbered by this excess?

Our hope is in Him

The Bible Reader’s Companion, by Lawrence O. Richards, states that the “key verse” for the first chapter of I Peter is:  “1:13:  the antidote to materialism.”  Eager to discover the advice, I read through to verse thirteen:  “Therefore, prepare your minds for action; be self-controlled; set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed.”

Where is our “hope” placed?  Again, is God our everything?  Or is our hope in the acquiring and gathering of goods?  Is it in the comfort of a spacious, luxurious home?  Is it in the squirrelling away of money and “loot” to be “assured” of a safe and secure future?  Peter talks extensively about living “as strangers here;” as my commentary states, “A Christian’s home is heaven.  Our hopes are not centered in what will happen to us in this world, but the inheritance we will receive when Jesus returns.”  According to verse four, that inheritance “can never perish, spoil, or fade;” unlike any—no, every—item we could possibly purchase for ourselves on this earth.

I was also struck as I read the account in Luke of Jesus calling his disciples.  Peter, James and John “left everything and followed him” (5:11).  Levi (otherwise known as Matthew) “left everything and followed him” (5:28).  This aroused my curiosity, so I began to search the other gospels for their descriptions.

  • In Matthew:  “At once they left their nets and followed him.” (4:20)
  • “and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.”  (4:22)
  • “and Matthew got up and followed him.” (9:9)
  • As He sends his disciples out:  “Do not take along any gold or silver or copper in your belts; take no bag for the journey, or extra tunic, or sandals or a staff…”  (10:10)
  • Peter reminds Jesus later:  “We have left everything to follow you!” (19:27)
  • The Gospel of Mark concurs:  “At once they left their nets and followed him.” (1:18)
  • “…and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men and followed him.” (1:20)
  • “…and Levi got up and followed him.” (2:14)

Are we prepared to leave, too?  Are we prepared to go where He calls us, when He calls us, immediately?  Are we prepared to leave all this stuff behind as we follow Him; follow His leading and His calling to where He wants us to be?  How tightly are we holding on to the things around us?  Or are we holding them out in open hands, ready to give it all to Him if that is what He asks of us?

‘You are my everything’

Singing a praise chorus in church one morning, I was struck by the words “You are my everything.”  It hit me, almost physically:  Wait.  If He is our everything, why do we have so much stuff?  If God is supposed to be our all in all (having noticed it once, I began to notice it everywhere; how often we sing the idea of God being “our all” and “our everything”), why are we so inundated with things, drowning in our clutter?  It makes no sense.  I was struck by the almost hypocrisy of singing the words, knowing how abundantly we were blessed with material goods.  Is he really my everything?  How much do I need to get rid of before he actually becomes that, in truth?

Think about the things we need to survive.  We absolutely need food, and we do need pots and pans to cook it in, dishes and glasses to eat and drink off of.  Now think about how full our kitchens are of specialty equipment, designed to make our lives easier and do all the hard work for us.  Gadgets and gizmos which once looked like a great idea; now jammed in our drawers and cabinets, broken or breaking other items as we try to stuff one more thing in amongst the crowd.  The I can’t get rid of this, I paid good money for it, I might use it someday stuff that makes it hard to close the pantry door.  Or—the saddest kind of clutter—the we’re saving that for a special occasion stuff.  I don’t necessarily mean the Christmas china that comes out seasonally, each year being used for its special, appropriate time.  I mean the china that doesn’t ever come out, the kind that’s “too.”  Too fragile, too antique, too special, too important—it’s a family heirloom!  That was my grandmother’s!  So it never gets used, ever, and instead sits in storage until the day you die, at which point your children (thankfully?) will have no memory of it and will be able to part with it much more easily.  Unless, of course, it’s completely ruined from being stored in a hot, dusty attic or a cold, damp, musty basement.

If God is our everything, why do we have those kinds of items overtaking our homes?

Jesus warns us about this idea in his parable of the rich fool.  Luke 12:16-21 states, “And he told them this parable:  ‘The ground of a certain rich man produced a good crop.  He thought to himself, ‘What shall I do?  I have no place to store my crops.’

‘Then he said, ‘This is what I’ll do.  I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.  And I’ll say to myself, ‘You have plenty of good things laid up for many years.  Take life easy; eat, drink, and be merry.’

‘But God said to him, ‘You fool!  This very night your life will be demanded from you.  Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’

‘This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God.’”

Is God truly my everything?