Fully Furnished
I don’t know what I thought of when my son Benjamin first told me he had applied to a teaching position in Lithuania. It certainly wasn’t malls.
Yet these gargantuan clusters of retail establishments with names like Akropolis, Maxima XXX (and my favorite, name-wise: BIG) simply have everything, and plenty of it. Before I moved here, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get all the things I wanted. I had determined in advance to be happy with whatever the university housing provided, to not insist on having the exact item I wanted delivered to my doorstep in forty-eight hours. Well, I don’t get home delivery, but I can’t say I’m suffering any lack.In fact, I felt like I was back in the States a few days ago, and not in a good way. The chaplain’s wife Rachel had driven me to a shopping center in Klaipeda’s suburbs just to show me what it was like. And here it was: the same old desire to own better things, this time a cool-looking clock and sheets that matched. The familiar passion rose within me as I walked up and down the vast aisles.Last month, before arriving at my fully-furnished apartment, I had decided not to buy anything but food, and to be satisfied with basics. Now I was eyeing the frying pans and wondering if my life would be significantly improved if I had a later model. And those glass jars would make much better, and better-looking, storage containers than the flimsy boxes and bags from the grocery store. Perhaps if I got sheets and pillowcases I really liked, it would be worth it in the long run, in terms of enjoying my environment.I had thought this kind of thing was over, but it seems I need to renegotiate what “minimalism” means for me on a regular basis.I know now I was mistaken in thinking, in the first place, that there wouldn’t be much stuff here to buy. And in the second place that the paucity of products would relieve me of temptation to buy goods I want but don’t need. But because I always have needs of some sort, or will be called upon to meet others’ needs, I can’t just place an embargo on all further purchases and be done with decisions. If temptation resides in my fleshly mind, then that is where it must be faced and conquered. Every single time.The writer of Hebrews tells believers to “[m]ake sure that your character is free from the love of money, being content with what you have; for He Himself has said, ‘I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you.’” (Hebrews 13:5) Maybe believing the gospel in this area means believing that the Spirit of God will guide me through the process of making decisions (even if it’s a decision to say a polite “no” to a proffered shopping excursion) until, finally, my heart trusts in Him completely, for everything.Sometimes I feel utterly ridiculous writing about such things, because there are so many people who don’t have enough. Plenty of people don’t have the luxury of minimalism. They must collect and store whatever comes their way, because they can’t just pop out and buy a thing when it’s needed. I get that. What I’m talking about here is my struggle to stop believing that I’ll be happy and satisfied when everything in my life is the way I like it. Having plenty is nice, definitely better than suffering. But it’s not what makes me happy. Having good relationships with God and other humans makes me happy. And the thing is, when I get what I want (“food”), I want something more specific (“delicious food”) and then still more specific (“delicious healthy food”) and still more specific (“delicious healthy inexpensive food”). Etc etc etc. Eventually I find myself in the baking aisle mourning inwardly, “There’s no organic whole wheat pastry flour!” How did I get here? When did I stop feeling thankful just to get…. any flour at all?I’d like to think I could just go to the Akropolis and walk around enjoying the sights. But I’ve decided to wait till I actually need to buy something I can’t get at the local grocery store. That day may never come. My apartment is fully furnished. Really.