More or Less

Truth be told, I have an off and on fascination with the minimalism movement.

I really love watching shows on tiny houses, seeing people build two hundred square foot spaces that fit all the essentials and use space efficiently. I’ve watched a couple of documentaries on minimalism, people who gave up all their belongings to be more free to travel, to pursue work that pays poorly but is full of meaning, to gain financial freedom. I’ve watched and read all about the Marie Kondo method, which encourages keeping only things that spark joy (plus, I think, the necessities of life). I go back on forth and my own dramatic cleanouts, but then get suckered in at the kitchen goods section of a rummage sale.

So when I heard that a local author from Evanston had engaged in a year-long project with her family of not buying anything, aside from urgent needs (food, utilities, basic clothing) – I had to read her book.

More or Less by Susannah Pratt is a wonderful read, not just because it speaks to this interest I already have, but because it taps into something most of us are dealing with: the massive economy of our stuff.

And Susannah does not offer an easy solution – like I said in my sermon yesterday, I LOVE a good step-by-step DIY program – but she reflects, thoughtfully and powerfully, on what it’s like to live as people who are consumers but also much more than that.

Of course, I don’t recommend reading this book right before Prime Days hit, as I did. But it’s good nonetheless.

She writes about the amount of time we spend sorting, organizing, cleaning, caring for our stuff – and how much that might take us away from other things.

She reflects on how disposable our stuff has become – just hop online and order another – and how this doesn’t just have inevitable environmental implications, as our landfills grow and grow, but it also changes our relationship to our things. We have fewer of those cherished items that have been through our lives, and lives of others, offering continuity, memories, and value – and more and more things that we throw away or forget about.

Our stuff also takes us out of relationship with other people – when we can easily buy what we need, why bother asking a friend or neighbor if we can borrow theirs? Why engage in alternative economies, swapping houseplants for fresh bread, or chicken eggs for a kombucha scoby, when we can just hop online and click away?

A few weeks ago, I had to come up with a children’s message on Luke 9; where Jesus sends the disciples out to share his news without any extra provisions:

Then Jesus called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, 2 and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. 3 He said to them, “Take nothing for your journey: no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money—not even an extra tunic. 4 Whatever house you enter, stay there, and leave from there. 5 Wherever they do not welcome you, as you are leaving that town shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them.” 6 So they departed and went through the villages, bringing the good news and curing diseases everywhere.

(Translation courtesy of BibleGateway)

I thought about why Jesus would offer such strange instructions to his disciples. And I reflected with the kids on all the stuff we carry, and how we can trust in it more than God.

We can trust in our cell phone battery backup, and our pantry full of canned food, more than in God’s provision or neighbor’s kindness.

Susannah’s book has me contemplating that all over again.

As with any good and challenging thing, it has me restless but uncertain. I don’t have a pathway set out, or twelve steps, but I am thinking more about my relationship to my things.

I’m thinking more about community, more about meeting needs and sharing, more about sufficiency and trust. Less about my shopping cart. I’m thinking about where I put my trust, in a home and a life full of stuff.

I hope you’ll read the book, and let me know what you think too.

-Pastor Jen

More or Less

Truth be told, I have an off and on fascination with the minimalism movement.

I really love watching shows on tiny houses, seeing people build two hundred square foot spaces that fit all the essentials and use space efficiently. I’ve watched a couple of documentaries on minimalism, people who gave up all their belongings to be more free to travel, to pursue work that pays poorly but is full of meaning, to gain financial freedom. I’ve watched and read all about the Marie Kondo method, which encourages keeping only things that spark joy (plus, I think, the necessities of life). I go back on forth and my own dramatic cleanouts, but then get suckered in at the kitchen goods section of a rummage sale.

So when I heard that a local author from Evanston had engaged in a year-long project with her family of not buying anything, aside from urgent needs (food, utilities, basic clothing) – I had to read her book.

More or Less by Susannah Pratt is a wonderful read, not just because it speaks to this interest I already have, but because it taps into something most of us are dealing with: the massive economy of our stuff.

And Susannah does not offer an easy solution – like I said in my sermon yesterday, I LOVE a good step-by-step DIY program – but she reflects, thoughtfully and powerfully, on what it’s like to live as people who are consumers but also much more than that.

Of course, I don’t recommend reading this book right before Prime Days hit, as I did. But it’s good nonetheless.

She writes about the amount of time we spend sorting, organizing, cleaning, caring for our stuff – and how much that might take us away from other things.

She reflects on how disposable our stuff has become – just hop online and order another – and how this doesn’t just have inevitable environmental implications, as our landfills grow and grow, but it also changes our relationship to our things. We have fewer of those cherished items that have been through our lives, and lives of others, offering continuity, memories, and value – and more and more things that we throw away or forget about.

Our stuff also takes us out of relationship with other people – when we can easily buy what we need, why bother asking a friend or neighbor if we can borrow theirs? Why engage in alternative economies, swapping houseplants for fresh bread, or chicken eggs for a kombucha scoby, when we can just hop online and click away?

A few weeks ago, I had to come up with a children’s message on Luke 9; where Jesus sends the disciples out to share his news without any extra provisions:

Then Jesus called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, 2 and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. 3 He said to them, “Take nothing for your journey: no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money—not even an extra tunic. 4 Whatever house you enter, stay there, and leave from there. 5 Wherever they do not welcome you, as you are leaving that town shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them.” 6 So they departed and went through the villages, bringing the good news and curing diseases everywhere.

(Translation courtesy of BibleGateway)

I thought about why Jesus would offer such strange instructions to his disciples. And I reflected with the kids on all the stuff we carry, and how we can trust in it more than God.

We can trust in our cell phone battery backup, and our pantry full of canned food, more than in God’s provision or neighbor’s kindness.

Susannah’s book has me contemplating that all over again.

As with any good and challenging thing, it has me restless but uncertain. I don’t have a pathway set out, or twelve steps, but I am thinking more about my relationship to my things.

I’m thinking more about community, more about meeting needs and sharing, more about sufficiency and trust. Less about my shopping cart. I’m thinking about where I put my trust, in a home and a life full of stuff.

I hope you’ll read the book, and let me know what you think too.

-Pastor Jen

“The Lord Almighty is with us, the ‘God of Jacob’ is our fortress.” (Psalm 46 refrain)

THIS IS A RE-POST OF CARL BALSAM’S BLOG YESTERDAY, WHICH WAS OUT OF ORDER. PLEASE READ AND ENJOY THIS!

During the depths of the Covid hibernation, I adopted Psalm 46 as my “go to” Psalm. [I commend it to you]. At the same time, in January and February (2020), the WCC men’s group studied the life of Jacob (via Zoom). I knew the basic story of Jacob but had never spent much focused time looking at his life. Learning again and reflecting more seriously about Jacob’s behavior, I pondered why he had the honor of having his name juxtaposed with God’s name in refrains such as the one above.? [Psalm 46: 7]

Jacob cheated his brother out of his birthright for a bowl of soup – he couldn’t even share a little soup with a famished Esau without, first, exacting an enormous cost. (Quite the sibling rivalry!) Birthrights were a big deal in the ancient world. Jacob was a selfish sibling! Then, Jacob schemed with his mom to steal his father, Isaac’s, blessing. Isaac was near death and nearly blind. Jacob, dressed in animal skins so he would feel and smell like his brother, Esau, a hairy hunter and man of the fields. The masquerade succeeded. Isaac, intending to bless Esau, was fooled and blessed Jacob, thereby robbing Esau of his rightful inheritance as head of the family clan (it was his right as the oldest son). Esau was stiffed twice. WOW!! I would not have picked Jacob to be on my team!!

However, my judgement is wrong, dead wrong. God picked Jacob. Jacob took his place in the pantheon of Israel’s patriarchs and became incorporated into their psalms and hymnology: “the God of Jacob is our fortress.” Why did God pick Jacob? I have no idea!!

But, wait. If I read on…there certainly are redeeming moments in Jacob’s life. Jacob loved deeply and steadfastly. He slaved for seven years in the field to gain the hand of his first love, Rachael, in marriage. But his uncle Laban gave Jacob some of his own medicine when he deceived him and required that he, first, marry his older daughter, Leah, whom Jacob did not love. It would require an additional seven years of field work to satisfy Laban and grant Jacob’s marriage to Rachael. Wow, fourteen years! What incredible love! [There is only one woman in this world that I would work fourteen years to marry but it only took two years of courtship to get a ”yes” from her Dad. So, I got off easy.]

Jacob also had some bizarre, yet defining, encounters where he demonstrated a genuine reverence for and sensitivity to God’s sovereign rule. Jacob had an Augmented Reality experience long before the Meta headsets were available (the well-known Jacob’s ladder vision – with ascending and descending angels). During this bizarre dream, God’s promise of blessing, previously given to Abraham and Isaac, was now confirmed to Jacob. (Gen 28) “All the families of the earth will bless themselves in you and your descendants.” Jacob’s response was to consecrate an altar, and he assigned it the name, Bethel, “House of God.” Jacob understood that he had had an encounter with the Almighty.

Later, Jacob was also humbled and received a “new name” through an encounter that changed the course of his remaining life. “(Gen 32) He wrestled with an unknown man – called an angel – Jacob would not relent but, in his struggle, his hip was struck and maimed by the opponent; Jacob refused to let go even with the pain of his injury and he begged for the man’s blessing. Jacob limped in pain the rest of his life, a daily reminder of this struggle. Jacob was both broken and blessed by this encounter. Jacob understood God to be present — no need to steal the blessing this time! Jacob said “I saw God face-to-face and lived to tell the story.” The blessing included the change of Jacob’s name to “Israel.” God’s legacy promises to Jacob were repeated — through him God’s eventual blessing would extend to the whole world. We don’t understand encounters like this but this does speak to Jacob’s openness to God’s plan and why Jacob becomes revered by the Jewish nation (Israel).

Despite these encounters, Jacob, though blessed and commissioned, continued his blunders through his remaining years. In fact, the very next day, after the night of struggle, Jacob was to meet Esau after many, many years to reconcile with him for Jacob’s earlier deceit and treachery. Hoping that Esau’s anger had subsided after all this time had passed, Jacob still was a schemer: “with fear and distress” he divided his largesse of family and livestock and sent half of the animals, men, women and children in a procession to meet Esau to test Esau’s intent. If Esau was still angry at Jacob, he would need to thrash through the flocks, family and servants to get to Jacob who hoped that he and the other half might flee to safety before Esau could reach them. Not exactly an act of confidence or bravery after the promises made to Jacob by God the prior night.

What does of all of this mean for us? I have reflected on the Jacob narrative and other scriptures that reference this narrative and although I have more questions than answers, I have a few reflections. Jacob was selfish to a fault, capable of great and vicious deceit, yet capable of great love, sensitive to his encounters with God and, eventually, chosen by God to be a channel of blessing to the world. And… he continued making significant blunders even after those promises had been repeated. We are like Jacob; we repeatedly make bad choices and our hubris makes us think we are right. We have “mountain top” experiences (think of youth camp or special moments where we sense God’s call on our life) — only to return to “our life” and fall back into some of the “same ‘ol, same ‘ol behaviors.” The apostle Paul talks about this struggle in Romans 7:19, “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” We are fallen people. God lavished his uncompromising love on Jacob despite his repeated sinful actions; God chose Jacob even though he did not deserve it — that is called “grace.” And, God does exactly the same for us, “For by grace are you saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God.” (Eph 2:5)

So, I’m beginning to soften a bit to Jacob. Why? Because I see much of myself in him and I see much of others in him as well. We are capable of great acts of grace and integrity and, at the same time, great deceit, treachery and trampling on the truth. We don’t always love our neighbors as ourselves. Don’t you feel that tension? I certainly do. This conflict of grace and sin pervades families (like Jacob’s clan – and maybe yours?), churches (maybe even WCC?), schools and universities (yes, NPU) and every kind of group or organization that you can name. Our world is unhinged with conflict and poisoned by deception. But, we can take heart, because as the apostle John tells us “the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” (I Jn 4:4) There is a role for committed followers of Christ, who wish to see kingdom values modeled in our world. We pray it every Sunday, “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.”

I have never heard anyone use the descriptor “the God of Carl.” But wouldn’t it be wonderful if our lives were so soaked in God’s grace, so steeped in integrity, so gracious in disagreement and so affirming of each person’s common humanity that someone might see God in us and actually think of assigning a tagline like that. If God can transform and bless a compulsive cheater, like Jacob, then he can bless us and work in our lives and families and church and world, in and through us. We, too, are told that we are chosen, just like Jacob, “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” [I Peter 2:9] We are called as “little Jacobs” to continue God’s line of blessing to our world. The last mention of Jacob in Scripture is found in Hebrews (11:21). “By faith, Jacob, when he was dying, blessed each of Joseph’s sons and worshipped as he leaned on top of his staff.” Recall Jacob’s favoritism for his son, Joseph – his focused love and gift of a special coat, custom-made for Joseph to the exclusion of the other brothers. [You may have thought Jacob would have learned his lesson by then about the impact of favoritism – NO!] This preferential treatment of Joseph resulted in Jacob’s other sons’ sibling hatred of Joseph, selling him into slavery in Egypt where Joseph encountered mistreatment and imprisonment. Through unusual circumstances, Joseph rose to a level of substantial responsibility in the Egyptian government and was in place to save his father, Jacob, and his brothers and their families from a devastating famine. In the Hebrews reference, quoted above, we see Jacob, about to die, struggling to stand because of the ravages of old age and favoring that painful hip as a reminder of his struggle with God and, no doubt, recalling his missteps of the past. He blessed all of Joseph’s sons – no more scheming, no more favoritism, simply blessing “all.” Let’s be like “this Jacob” and be a blessing to all whom we encounter.

“The Lord Almighty is with us, the ‘God of Jacob’ is our fortress.” May we be energized by this promise.