“It isn’t often that I can make God and George Bush happy at the same time.”
From a comment at Out of Ur by Ethan Magness discussing a young person’s plan to buy a washer and dryer for a family in need as a Christian response to spending the Economic Stimulus check.
I happened upon a post by Eugene Cho today that speaks well to the issue of giving public testimony, as Christians, about our monetary giving (something I have mentioned here recently). Eugene and his wife, Minhee, are dedicating their earnings for an entire year toward launching a humanitarian organization to battle world poverty and one of his blog readers challenged their choice to announce that publicly, asking: “Why not just do it in secret?” I appreciated his thoughtful, honest response to that question, and encourage others to check out his post: Loudly Fighting Poverty.
This past week I have repeatedly found myself driving around parts of L.A. that are a bit unfamiliar. Saturday I wound my way through the hills up to Rancho Palos Verdes; Sunday we drove to two different residences in Hollywood. And last night I ventured out through the hills and canyons of the Valley. In each of these places, I was overwhelmed by one thing: the sheer volume of luxury vehicles around me. And it wasn’t the standard L.A. black Mercedes fare: I was surrounded by Bentleys and Maseratis and Ferraris and Rolls Royces (and the really crazy Mercedes that cost an absolute fortune).
Getting gas in the Valley last night, I found myself sorely out of place in our dirty, black, 1994 Nissan Altima. Moments before, a white Rolls had been parked where my car sat filling, and it was a car straight out of a music video: totally pimped out, unlike anything I had ever seen on the streets. The three young men gathered around the car were laughing and smiling beneath the fluorescent lights.
Or on Sunday, it was the black Mercedes in front of us: the kind that makes you turn your head and stare. I was just beginning to take in the glamor of the car when another one, almost identical to it, drove up beside it, and then raced off. And in that moment the stop and stare standout became unoriginal.
As I mentioned earlier, I have been struck recently by the by and large disbelief I think most of us have that the Beatitudes as recorded by the gospel writers could actually be true. I remember the giant uproar caused by some comments made by Tony Campolo many years ago regarding whether or not Christians should own luxury vehicles: he was uninvited to conferences after that and had speaking engagements canceled. Communities that genuinely witness to belonging to a kingdom where the least are the greatest are simply and sadly not what most people think of when they consider the face of Christianity.
“But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort. Woe to you who are well fed now, for you will go hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep.”
We are the rich; the well fed; the laughing. Can we really hear these words and say with belief: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
A friend ministering in the wealthy community of Laguna Beach recently posted on her blog about how the perspective of her kids will be shaped by the affluence around her. One thing I appreciate about Patty’s blog is her honesty and willingness to ask tough questions about what it means to live in the land of the highly-resourced, especially considering their proximity to so much need.
As I read her post, I marveled at how mainstream luxury has become. Coach? Chanel? In junior high? You’ve got to be kidding me.
I remember having a similar reaction to hearing the litany of spa treatments that are now the norm for young teens or hearing of high school kids sporting Tiffany’s jewelry. At church.
Then last night I was reading through this week’s Newsweek when I spotted an article titled: “Branding for Beginners.” The short piece examines the prevalence of brand name-dropping in books targeting teen girls. The author writes:
“Chanel Vamp lip gloss, Jimmy Choo heels, Gauloises cigarettes, Absolut Vodka: they’re the kind of brand-name products you’d expect to find in a glossy magazine. But they’re popping up with astounding frequency in novels aimed at teen girls…brand names appeared an average of more than once per page: 1,553 references in all” (in six best-selling teen novels).
The article concludes:
“The Judy Blume books I read as a kid were about life lessons and defining yourself…The life lesson here is that you can buy your identity.”
From hip-hop to tween-lit, the gospel of bling reigns. Which is why JCrew honestly believes that I am going to buy Cashmere for my two-year old.
This past week I read two things that struck me concerning how we view the homes and space where we live. The first was a review of House Lust, a book earning a fair amount of press for its examination of our nation’s obsession with the size and status of our homes:
Add to this a newly overwhelming lust for space. In 1950, the average American home measured just 938 square feet. By 2005, the average had grown to 2,434 square feet. The size of the putative American dream house expanded even more.
At a convention of the nation’s home builders in 1984, an ideal “New American Home” on display encompassed 1,500 square feet and cost less than $100,000. In 2006, the ideal house was 10,023 square feet, and was priced at more than $10 million. In the interim, Bill Gates of Microsoft built a 66,000-square-foot home near Seattle at an estimated cost of $100 million.
I am quick to say that one of the hard things for me about our life here is the impossibility of purchasing a home here in L.A. And while I sit at a distance through the many conversations my peers have about this and that remodel, this period restoration goal, this great refinancing opportunity, etc., I secretly wish I was in their club (though I certainly don’t envy the many headaches, the total displacement of families during remodel projects, lead and asbestos abatement, etc). I have a friend who has a very crass way of describing the way my generation has sold our soul to Home Depot, and while her words make me laugh I see how much acquiring and restoring homes can consume my peers.
The second piece that caught my eye was written for an internal newsletter for Servant Partners, and it dealt with the ways that crowding is a great stressor for those who live in urban centers, and in particular the slum communities where our staff members make their homes. The author quotes Danielle Speakman (Nothing But a Thief) who writes:
“Imagine your immediate family, who they are, what they are like, how many of you there are. Take all of you, add in your grandparents, and perhaps an aunt and her children. Now move into your bedroom. You all live there. All your possessions are there, you cook there, you sit there, you sleep there. Together…”
It is amazing, the juxtaposition from one world to another; worlds within one world; worlds that offend each other to the core.
The House Lust reviewer continues, quoting the book’s author:
“Unlike the robber baron-era mansions, modern-day megahomes don’t feature dozens of bedrooms or entirely new kinds of rooms — they mostly just take the rooms you’d find in a normal house and make them really, really big.” The challenge of filling up those rooms, he adds, is being met by outsize furnishings like the “extreme ultra king bed” that is 12 feet long and 10 feet wide.
Today was my first day back at work post-maternity leave, and I count it a grace to be in partnership with folks all over the world who have chosen those one room homes over giant rooms and oversized beds. They tell me a truth about life with Christ that is unpopular here in the land of house lust. They remind me of my own material abundance and they challenge me to consider ways to let go of some of that comfort and risk living with less.
A few weeks ago I mentioned that the church could do a better job of sharing testimonies that have to do with our relationship with money. I just got a great link from my sister to a little article that ran recently in People Magazine about some friends of ours. Take a look!
I was cruising through my regular blog reads yesterday when I came across the following. In describing an upcoming mission trip to Russia that her husband is taking, Llama Momma writes this:
All these years he’s been sending, it’s exciting to see him go.
I got chills when I read this. I meet my fair share of people who are pursuing some specific call to serve, be it in an urban setting or overseas. I work for a mission agency that sends folks like this across the globe to plant churches in the world’s slums and I live in a missional community in South Central, L.A. so I am pretty familiar with those people called and convicted to go. I am less familiar with what Llama Momma describes here: a person, a family, committed to sending. And not committed in the casual send a check once in a while way, but in the way where it is something that has to be discussed prior to marriage because it will have that much impact on a family’s finances.
I have learned a great deal this past year about what generosity can look like, and I have seen its many shapes and forms. And reading Llama Momma’s post reminded me of how that kind of generosity can be a calling. It is often appropriately unseen, the sending. It is easy to identify those serving in the field. It is a much more hidden work done by the many who pray and give and offer housing and cars and network on behalf of those who go. And because of that hiddenness, it is perhaps the harder faithfulness to model. Lots of people can point to a missionary hero. I imagine that many would be hard-pressed to name their “giving heroes”. While I totally support quiet giving (scripture clearly speaks of the need for this), I also would like to see more giving testimonies in the church: people sharing the stories of how they are worshiping God with the resources they have been given.
In our church, we speak of “living simply”, and that is a membership commitment we all make to one another. This has a lot to do with dealing with combating our love for things, freeing us from something, but it has as much to do with what it frees for. We say it this way: “Live simply so as to practice generosity”.
I hear a lot of people talk about simplicity and this seems like a popular theme. I don’t hear the same level of conversation when it comes to generosity.
Doug and I have a very dear friend who works with Servant Partners in their internship program. It is her job to train and pastor classes of interns over the course of their two years, with the goal of preparing many individuals for service overseas or in urban communities here in the U.S.. She herself was an intern in the program five years ago, and as part of her training, she was mentored by Doug in the area of worship leading. I can still remember gathering in my sister’s living room in those early days of our church plant and listening to Jade’s voice fill the room as she and Doug led us in singing. We just got an email from her while on this trip describing her critical need in the area of finances. All of our staff members at Servant Partners fundraise their salaries, and our dear friend is in dire need for new financial partners if she is to continue her work. After receiving a generous gift from someone, we were able to tithe that money to her and help her out in the short term, but we are now joining with her in praying for new supporters to come alongside her in her work.
On this day of considering hopes and dreams for the year to come, I wonder if there might be someone called to a mission like Llama Momma’s husband who would feel prompted to join us in supporting the work of our friend for the sake of the kingdom. The thing about blogging that has surprised me the most is how genuine, life-changing connection can happen through this unusual medium and it is in that spirit, and with a conviction from the Spirit, that I put this need out there. Contact me using the contact form in the sidebar if the Spirit is speaking to you too.
“Buy green. Shop here.”
This was the message on a sign out in front of a thrift store we passed in Seattle. I marveled at the truth of this simple message and at how unimaginable the concept of buying used stuff is to so many. I have always been fond of thrift stores. During my college days in Chicago I was famous for my shopping prowess at the Amvets thrift store a few blocks from campus. I was the girl who could regularly find amazing high-end stuff for $1.25 and I married someone also known for his thrift store skills. In fact Doug just accomplished the all-time thrift store coup at his favorite Union Gospel Mission thrift shop in Portland (Hugo Boss Black Label cashmere/wool sport-coat with four figure price tag in pocket–he wins). I guess we really are made for each other!
All that to say, it is no stretch for us to buy used clothes, and we are comfortable with our home of second-hand furniture. And my 1890 wedding ring is more beautiful than any ring I have ever seen (today is the six year anniversary of the day Doug proposed to me with that ring among the snowy peaks of Hurricane Ridge)! But I am quite aware of how very few things people are willing to buy used. And let’s be honest: in the midst of the retail nirvana that is the Christmas season, the prospect of shopping for not new stuff seems just slightly off. During college, I got away with giving Amvets finds as gifts, but now would rarely consider giving someone secondhand stuff.
I am afraid that there are just too many places where we no longer question the necessity of having “the new”. And in the midst of so much discarded stuff (I think of how many times the Salvation army truck has visited my home this past year alone), a great deal of which is in perfectly good condition, it is strange how unwilling we are, for the most part, to buy what has been bought before. We are so attached to whatever it is that packaging and plastic wrap and store hangers provide.
The Bible has much to say about our relationship with material goods and the comfort, security, and status we extract from them. What would it look like for a community of faith to really challenge this mentality among its members? In the history of my own church, it used to be that for any purchase over $50, an individual would have to bring that decision to one or two other members of the community for corporate discernment. At some point the amount shifted to $75, and now people choose when and how to involve others in the community in the life of their finances. Certainly that early practice deeply impacted how people spent their money, and I imagine would go far in reorienting attitudes that demand always buying new.
Underwear and socks aside (even I have my limits), it would be fascinating for a community to embrace the decision to only buy secondhand for a year. There is too little that we do corporately when it comes to creatively re-imagining our finances, and this one simple step could go far in helping to circumcise hearts taken captive by retail.
Without even touching the environmental and justice issues related to how our things are manufactured and what our patterns of consumption do to our planet, and simply considering the battle most of us wage daily against our love for stuff, I think that sign could also have read: “Be Christian. Shop here.”
Are Christmas presents really the problem?
Today we accomplished what I thought was the impossible: successfully posing all five Haubs for a family portrait. My mom had a portrait package at Yuen Lui, so she gave us the chance to go and have a free sitting and get a a free 8X10 as part of the deal. After almost calling and cancelling the whole thing this morning (we were forty-five minutes away from our appointment, Elijah was still in his sleeper, Mercy and Aaron were in the bath, and Doug and I were trying to hunt down the Carney-family hair clippers to give him a trim), we ended up making it to the Lynwood studio on time, AND our sitting was smooth and without any incident!
Elijah never cried once, and unlike the time when my sister and I tried to have portraits of her son and Mercy taken, there were no fits, escape attempts, or attachments to dumb photographer props to contend with. Since it is all digital now we were able to preview our proofs and while the number of actually good pictures was small, we only needed one to turn out. We ended up with about three good ones to choose from, and we went ahead and placed our order. Truly a miracle in my book.
The photography studio is located nearby a large mall, and so for the first time this season I found myself in the heart of retail-dom. We thought about actually going into the mall (which would probably be the first time in over a year for any of us), but ended up in the nearby Red Robin instead. But we talked about our Christmas shopping lists and what we needed to buy and for whom.
I have heard more than a few people comment on abstaining from or reducing the amount of store spending for gifts this year, perhaps favoring hand-made items as gifts or using the time, energy, and money that shopping and giving requires and putting that toward service opportunities instead. Great thoughts, of course. All of our rituals deserve to be regularly examined, and the ease by which they can quickly become co-opted by powerful, and often well-disguised, forces should not be taken lightly.
But as Doug and I discussed our plans for gift-giving this year, I realized that the act of shopping and selecting gifts for our family members does not feel driven by any list of “isms”. Rather, it is that chance to use a material gift to express our care and joy. It doesn’t seem to me that there is anything wrong with that sort of symbolic gesture. It would seem to me that what makes Christmastime gift-giving feel creepy is what is happening, consumption-wise, the rest of the year. I read something recently that said there were people who, in some fashion, shopped every day. I found that suggestion inconceivable and scandalous. But after thinking a bit, even of people I know, I realized that that might not be as impossible as it sounds. And with that as a back-drop, of course shopping for someone feels absurd!
I am not a shopper, and our family budget does not even have line items for clothes for us or the kiddos. With those realities, the giving that happens at birthdays and Christmas is a fun way for us to get the couple of things we do need each year. But again, it is the backdrop of a commitment to simplicity the rest of the year that makes those material gifts at Christmas feel completely appropriate and quite welcome. I wonder, then, if it isn’t much easier to talk about reigning in our impulses to consume over these next few weeks rather than deal head-on with the ways that we bow to materialism the rest of the year? Again, I applaud the initiatives I have heard promoted recently. May it be that they not be relegated to holiday trendiness but rather become the trends by which the rest of our lives can be ordered when consumption and materialism are off the collective radar.