I have too much stuff and it’s not good for my soul.
But let’s barge through whatever guilt we may lug around about material excess and look deeper. At a winter meeting of the More-with-Less Revival group I’m part of, one person said she could feel the “less” but not the “more.” Another person echoed that.
I struggled to formulate an adequate response, so I decided to experiment with restraint—the opposite of what advertisers and algorithms would want—in hopes of finding the “more.”
At that time, I read Gandhi’s autobiography. I found his conviction and intensely practical spirituality motivating. Particularly compelling were his beliefs that “all self-restraint is good for the soul” and that attaining a deeper spiritual life is not possible if you put no constraints on what you eat.
I’m prone to vanity so it would be unwise to say much about the minor deprivations I have undertaken but I have cut some things from my diet, taken on a routine of small-time fasting and enacted restrictions on digital distraction. I sold a few belongings too.
There’s something good about walking past a plate of doughnuts, which I love, and not taking one—for spiritual reasons. There’s something fairly deep inside that shifts and softens when I feel hunger, and then stop to recite simple versus: Seek first the kingdom of God, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, we do not live by bread alone, deny yourself…..”
I’m not Gandhi in a loincloth eating only bananas, peanuts, lemons and olive oil, but in those moments when I seek first something other than the nearest hit of consumption, I feel incremental transformation. I touch the “more.”
Admittedly, it’s just little league practice—practice for being a more present, humble and loving person, and hopefully practice for some big league, or medium-sized-league downsizing. Ultimately, the world demands major restraint.
In any case, my motivation is not ethical compulsion so much as the prospect of spiritual enrichment and connection.
It makes sense that I need to put in some effort in order to see some gain. You gotta climb the mountain to get the view. I hold that in tension with the belief that, ultimately, it is not we who draw near to God, but God who draws near to us. At most, our efforts crack open the door so grace can rush in.
Restraint invites grace. It welcomes transformation of heart and world.
It may sound odd but to me this element of inner transformation relates directly to Zach Rempel’s incisive critique of the economic growth model (page 16). He says humans are consuming too much stuff, and that the “sustainable development” framework, which tries to dramatically reduce carbon emissions without questioning the pervasive doctrine of perpetual economic growth, might not be the best path.
He says restraint, of the more-with-less nature, is good for individuals and economies. In my mind, it’s all the same quest—the pursuit of love, humility, oneness, God.
Not all will agree with Zach. You might say economic degrowth would cause suffering or that electric vehicles are the answer. Fair enough. Send us a letter. Debate is good. That’s the point: the doctrine of endless economic growth should be debated, something astoundingly rare. In such debate, the church could actually contribute something of broad, unique value to society.
As our family drove away for the first More-with-Less Revival meeting, our son said, “So, what are we going to give up?” It’s a question full of promise.
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