In one of my recent blogs, I wrote:
It is my firm belief
that the definition of what a “blessing” is has become corrupted through
ignorance, selfishness, or malevolence. Over and over and over throughout the Old and New Testament scriptures, God’s
mouthpieces remind us to love the poor, to despise wealth, and to seek justice
and solidarity for and with the people on the fringes. We simply cannot deny
that God may actually be calling us to a
life of material poverty for the sake of His Name, His Gospel, and His
people.
Now, the problem with writing a blog like that is I’ve just committed
myself, whether I like it or not, to a higher standard. There is quite a
difference between (1) holding that thought inside your own brain and (2)
putting it our there for all the world to see. It somehow makes it a little
more real, a little more convicting to my own self, even if nobody else is
concerned by it. It’s like telling a girl for the first time that you love her;
you still loved her back when that was merely something in your head that you hadn’t
verbalized, but telling her just makes it a little more real, and a little more
beautiful. You also are taking the risk that you may fall flat on your face…but
the worthwhile reward is so much greater than the risk (indeed, if she responds
in kind, the risk is one of the greatest parts of the reward).
Similarly, I now
find myself much more confronted by the fact that God may actually have called
ME to a life of voluntary poverty. It is a risk…but it is beautiful too. To be
honest, when I admitted to myself that my previous blog may be more for my sake
than anyone else’s, it brought up some very challenging and uncomfortable
questions in regards to how I really
felt about living a life of poverty, looking past the philosophical meanderings
and spiritual convictions in my head. I mean let’s face it: being poor isn’t
romantic, no matter how it is portrayed in movies and novels; surely being a
“starving artist” isn’t that fun. Nobody
in their right mind would really want
to be poor, even if that was something God called them to.
Unless.
Unless there are joys inherent in a life of simplicity, even
poverty, that I know nothing about here in my current financially-secure
situation. It makes sense…the “not knowing” part, I mean. It sort of reminds me
of that great C.S. Lewis quote about a child wanting to continue making mudpies
in a slum because he cannot fathom a holiday at the sea. Or, on a higher
plane, we humans not being able to understand God’s omniscience because we live
inside Time and cannot even conceive of what being outside Time even means. Or, on a much simpler plane, (last analogy
I promise) it’s like the color blue not knowing what it’s like to be yellow.
Nothing in blue’s experience can show it any qualities of being yellow; nothing
in man’s experience can show it any qualities of being omniscient; and nothing
in making mudpies in a slum can show one any qualities of being at the sea
on holiday.
As the writer of the Book of Hebrews said, “Now faith is
being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what
the ancients were commended for.” I look forward to one day discovering the
qualities of living a life of simplicity and voluntary poverty. I cannot see those
joys now in any more than the barest philosophical sense, but I trust that one
day my experiences will testify to them in a way I cannot, as I make my
mudpies, now fathom.
