Enough

I’m living such a dichotomous life. Caught between a constant state of love and hate for the life I’m living. Much of the time, I love my life. I thrive on a life where I can wake up in the morning and go to the gym, while listening to my devo on my fancy phone, and drinking water that’s been bottled en mass. Stopping to grab breakfast from the local farmers market… all before starting my day feeling replenished and renewed. I love standing under the hot shower for longer than is necessary, just to feel the heat pound into my back and onto my face. Then moving on to a job that offers flexibility to choose my own hours, manage my own time, and make my own decisions about how to spend my day. Including the ability to slip a way for the occasional 2-hour lunch. I love the salary that is significant enough to provide some disposability, offering the luxuries of being able to tithe 10% and still travel a few times a year, dine (regularly) at trendy restaurants, make needless purchases (sometimes large), and shop at organic food stores. I love coming home to two dogs who are well-groomed and fully up to date on all vaccinations, each with their own assortment of bedding, toys and food. I love gathering around the table with my girlfriends in the evening, sitting around the warm fire…. playing games or studying the Word. And I relish when I finally climb into my queen size bed with a foam mattress cover, while snuggling up under my down comforter with a good book. Usually something inspiring or romantic. This is my simple life… and I love it.

But then. But then sometimes I can’t rid myself of the disgust at the extravagance I’ve surrounded myself with. I hate that I have so much “stuff” that my 1200 sqft Bungalow can’t contain it all, and I refer to it as “clutter”. And I hate even more that I complain about it: the clutter. I hate that I have more clothes than I will wear and a percentage of my groceries will go bad before I eat it- when there are people in my neighborhood who go without. We are such a spoiled Nation.

I don't say this with self-righteousness or altruistic pride; I believe that the Lord convicts us all individually. But lately everything feels so. dang. extravagant. I am saddened by the fact that I live a more materially-extravagant life than 3/4ths of the world’s population. I am shamed by the fact that my dogs live a more materially-extravagant life than 3/4ths of the world’s population. Who am I, that this should not bother me? But most importantly, I hate how much I value my life and all of the things in it. I’ve become lost in the tug of war between flesh and spirit. That I would actually base a decision, any decision, on the fact that I own a house that I love?!? It’s brick and mortar and plaster and glass. What a terrible excuse not to act. It’s in these moments that I’m brought back to Ecclesiastes. “Everything is meaningless”. And it is! Wisdom and pride and money and toil and pleasures and advancement. What value do they have, if not to advance the Kingdom?