I’ve spoken to this conference three years in a row, at the same season of the year.  They have seen all my clothes (as if anyone remembers).  Normally,I would have felt the need for something new (and I  did), but everything I  have on was found  in my  own closet.  Congratulations pilgrim!  You have just won a small important victory.

September 2008

 

Becoming the Change I Want to See in the World: An Extreme Trial

 

That’s it! I decide on the plane flying back to Chicago from Kenya.  I’m going on a spending fast. I desperately want to make a difference in this world.

On the half-way-around-the-globe trip back home I consider my options.  A typical $35 per month child sponsorship will not break our bank.  But I want to do more and I know that will be a problem.  At mid-life we have many financial commitments.  We want to help our young adult children who are in the hungry years of their lives finishing graduate school, establishing careers, paying back college loans and buying homes.  We are saving for retirement in another ten years or so.  We already tithe 10% from our incomes.  Our paychecks are more than sufficient, but still we are spread thin financially.  Maybe similar financial realities account for why over 50% of evangelicals polled by Barna said they would not give to help AIDS orphans.  With minimal financial margins giving more seems out of reach.

This is the time to get creative financially, I think.  Somehow, we need more access to financial resources.  Before my trip to Africa I had been inspired by Judith Levine’s book, Not Buying It:  My Year Without Shopping. Following her example I decide to go “cold turkey” by instituting a spending fast.

In her book, Judith and her husband vow to buy nothing for a year but the necessities for sustenance, health, and business—groceries, insulin for their diabetic cat, toilet paper, Internet access, office supplies.  The rules shape up with each decision that must be made about whether or not something is a necessity.  They fight.  They bargain.  They compromise and come to agreements.  Finally they decide:  No processed or prepared foods except bread.  No restaurants.  No movies or video rentals.  No coffee and newspaper at the neighborhood hangout spot.  No travel.  Gifts are handmade.

Judith’s description of the year as an “X-treme trial in non-consumption” must have slid by me in my initial reading.  It should have been a clue to the severity of such a plan.  The second tip off should have been when the Levines admit to being temperamentally suited for the task of “Not Buying It.”  Paul claims to be a non-shopper and Judith admits to being an uncommitted consumer at best.  Like perfect-pitch singers, natural athletes, or talented artists, these two were born with a gift—a leaning towards simple living.  They are to a degree “naturals” in the area she is writing about.  In no way does this diminish the difficulty of their accomplishment, but it should have alerted me to a difference in our temperaments.  I am bilingual in both spirituality and beauty.  I am a woman who wants to walk with God while she carries on a love affair with an antique of a certain circa.   Creating beautiful surroundings and a sense of God’s presence are my comforts of choice.  The Levines are outdoorsy, people who care about woolen sports socks—a passion that is easier to afford.  The Levines and I are, humanly speaking, apples and oranges.

But even though I suspect we are not from the same human stock, their process of deciding what is necessary and what is not is fascinating.  What would I edit as unnecessary from my life?  As I’m pondering that challenge, certain words and phrases peppered throughout their book grab my interest:

• the self-medicating American cure-all:  more
• the widening wealth gap
• keeping up not just with the Joneses, but with the Zeta-Joneses through media exposure
• luxury fever
• “affluenza”
• compulsive acquisition-related disorders
• indulging thoughtlessly in the fruits of the world’s poverty
• a purchasable identity of false self
• downshifting
• hyperconsumption
• a society of instant gratification
• impulse buying
• “I Shop, Therefore I Am.”

Judith thoughtfully examines the psychology behind the pull to consume.  She describes shopping as an exercise in hope—hope for more beauty, more status, more fun.  These promises for more release us from needing other people.  As long as you have a credit card in your pocket you can go it alone.

She quotes historian Rosalind Williams who wrote that we are exposed to a Versailles quality of life every time we shop in department stories.  “There, consumers can touch and try on clothes, gaze on luxurious goods, travel in style, and otherwise taste pleasures normally reserved for the fortunate few, all without having to buy.” 1

What Can I Shave From My Life?

What this has done to jack up our quality of life expectations is almost immeasurable.  Tom Beaudoin, writes in Consuming Faith:  Integrating Who We Are with What We Buy, about the findings of researchers in regards to “Affluent Attitude.”  “People with middle-class incomes now have the expectations that were once reserved for the rich, such as spas, designer products and clothing.” 2

Eager to find a new financial balance in life and wanting to fund causes that urgently matter to me, in mid-flight I take out my travel journal and begin to list my own entitlement “overages.”  Remembering a conversation with author and personal finance guru Mary Hunt in which she mentioned that 10% of people’s spending is completely unaccounted for, I ask myself, where is that 10% of my spending that I could relocate for things I care more about?

I decide to begin on the fringes of my spending.  I would not describe the list that follows as deep sacrifices, but more like initial steps to position me away from “unconscious spending” and into a life of sustainable self discipline.  I decide to say no to manicures and pedicures or any spa treatment except hair upkeep.  The regular grabbing of lunch or coffee when running errands is nixed.  Clothes and house upgrades get a no.  Accessories, jewelry, shoes and handbags all go on the fasting list.  Shopping as entertainment is basically out.  Because writing is what I do newspapers and books stay on my “keep” list, but magazine subscriptions (Traditional Home and Bazaar) will be allowed to expire.  Books also had a qualification for purchase; if possible they needed to be located at the Alibris secondhand Web site at a considerable savings.  Furthermore, I limit by book buying so that I can’t buy a new book until I’ve actually read my last purchase.  Additionally, eating out needed to be scaled back to once a week.  “Fast” anything with its convenience and expense will no longer be a part of my life.  This list; though not sacrificial, is still an adjustment—a respositioning away from the perks of suburban lifestyle and into a more considered life that I hope will release me to make a difference for someone else.

Thus began my after-trip inner journey—with determination and what seemed like a workable plan.

Looking back, I hate to admit that my spending fast was marked more by learning curve than significant savings.  For months, I was highly encouraged.  The small cutbacks on my list weren’t that hard.  Buoyed that “non buying” was surprisingly easy to manage I found myself asking, “Africa, or this little perk?”  My answer was consistently, “No choice!  Africa!”  For months I ate at home and did my own nails.  No new clothes hung in my closet, which became much more organized as I learned what was actually hanging in there!  I acquired little beyond basic groceries, toiletries and home supplies.  No problem.  It was smooth sailing.  Small sacrifices were easy for me.

Crash and Burn

But in the fourth month of the fast I experienced a learning curve about desire.  Out of nowhere my good intentions crashed and burned.  Just when the financial margins in my life were widening, I blew every penny I’d saved and more on one huge furniture purchase for our home.  I bought two stylish leather rockers to replace the 20-year-old shabby tan corduroy recliner rockers (the kind decaying on front stoops of shacks all across back-roads America these days!) that had been an eye sore in our home for years.  My appetite to change those ugly twins had been growing since the day they arrived at our home and, at first glance, I’d realized they were a huge mistake.  Now with a bargain in sight, desire was gnawing away.  These two new beautiful leather chairs were already 50% off.  We were able to save another 10% with our first-ever senior citizen discount; plus, the store offered us an additional 10% “savings” for opening a charge card!  Who could say no?

Normally, I would have enjoyed this kind of bargain upgrade, but this purchase left me feeling highly conflicted.  Even as I said “yes” to furniture, I sensed I was saying “no” to Africa.  A strong desire for beautiful personal spaces competed with Africa for my money.  I was no match for the hungry itching urge that made lounge chairs my soul’s desire.  Leather rockers obsessed me completely and Africa lost.

When I realized the result of my choice—that this one large purchase had undone all previous disciplines—I was crestfallen.  Just as I could not desire myself thin, or better-read, or more educated, I could not carve out financial margins with desire alone.

In his charming book, Piano Lessons, Noah Adams describes a year in his life in which he tried to learn to play the piano.  Every page resonates with his longing to become a musician.  In the last chapter, after much trial and heroic endeavor, he dons a tuxedo, ignites the candles in the candelabra, and places a chair to the right of the piano for his wife.  He then sits down at the piano bench of his newly-purchased $11,000 Steinway upright and, with shaking legs and very slow fingers, gives his wife her Christmas gift—a personal concert of beginner carols and a simple Alfred arrangement of “The Entertainer.”  They both cry in response.

Musicians could have warned Noah that the learning curve to accomplished musicianship is steep.  A year would not turn him into a concert pianist, unless he was a natural, no matter how much he wanted it.  The parallels between Noah’s desire to learn the piano and my desire to enter into financial self discipline were clear.  What made me think that without any practice, with pure raw grit alone, I would be morphed into an ascetic who loves self denial and austerity?  I was not a natural in this area.  Just as wanting to be a brain surgeon or an astronaut would not qualify anyone to be one, sheer desire would not morph me into a non-spending expert.

In the final chapter of Piano Lessons, Noah Adams tells of someone asking him if there were anything he would do differently to learn how to play the piano since “life is easier lived backward.”  He said, “Yes.  Instead of the computer course I tried to teach myself with, I think I would take real piano lessons.”

Practice, Practice, Practice

It makes sense.  The way to learn any new discipline is through lessons and lots of practice.  An expert in no-spending could have told me that this skill is learned “one note at a time.”  It could take me years to become proficient.

But even as I tried to encourage myself with those thoughts, my sense was that my spiritual pilgrimage had failed.  I was unsuited for an “unspending” discipline.  With reality staring me in the face, the temptation to drop my whole experiment in financial authenticity was strong.  Mahatma Gandhi’s words resonated at this point, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”  How could I wish for the rest of humanity what I could not bring about in my own life?  I would have to admit to my friends that my spending fast had become a spending slowdown and that I had even blown that out of the water.  The words of a friend’s husband indiscreetly passed on to me early in my journey now haunted me.  “She’ll never do it!”  Insulting?  Yes.  But now I had to admit that he was right.

Still, one thing was undeniable.  Even while wallowing in a strong sense of failure, the desire to engage in the battle against AIDS remained strong.  Maritha still needed her cows.  I still dreamed of helping Nyamalo and others I’d met.  In the midst of those unsatisfied longings a certain truth laid claim on my spirit that had something of God in it.  “If you want to help these people you will have to change.”  Those words haunted and drew me.

With deliberation, against my own wounded pride, I forced myself back to the piano bench of financial discipline to learn note by note, mistake by mistake.

The value of failure is mostly underrated.  For sure, this excellent, though painful, teacher has often been wasted on me.  But now facing a big flop squarely, I decided to open myself up to the upside of being down.  What were the lessons?

First, my values became clear.  Parts of me were stubbornly materialistic.  My value system was about things, not people.  Going cold turkey had revealed my most materialistic stronghold.  Saying no to personal spending:  clothing, upkeep, food-on-the-run was easy.  But my weakness was my home.  Visual stimulation tempts me to spend on my nest.  In the future I would have to carefully protect my spiritual interests against the pull of home magazines, catalogues and HGTV.  Balancing an artistic wiring with a desire to give to Africa will be an ongoing struggle in my soul.

Everyone is bilingual.  Our spirituality coexists with other passions.  Anyone who isn’t sure about that should try a spending fast.  It is a great experiment in learning what other languages are spoken in a person’s value system.  It’s good to know what part of ourselves compete for our hearts and our dollars.

Secondly, a practice for life must be sustainable.  Unlike the Levines, whose experiment lasted for a year, I am trying to find a way to integrate new boundaries for a lifestyle for the remainder of my life.  A spending fast cannot last forever, but it’s a great teacher.  It put a mirror up to my soul and said, “Here you are.  This is the woman you need to get to know.”

And so, the search for less severe approaches to developing financial margins with more sustainable life disciplines began.  Here are the “notes” I am learning, the practices that are helping me reach financial margins in the midst of a regular life.

• Shop In Your Own Closet

 

When experiencing the urge for something new to wear, before running off to the mall, I shop in my own closet.  Spontaneous buying isn’t a problem if you aren’t in a tempting environment.  Retailers know us well and use well-researched psychology to get our money.  Shoe departments face cosmetic bars.  While we wait to try on shoes we are drawn to the most basic of hopes for beauty promised by creams and lotions and makeup.  Research indicates that cosmetics are, after all, the most spontaneous of all purchases.  Windowless stores erase the real world ala Las Vegas.  Greeters and friendly clerks make it harder to “disappoint” and walk away from without buying.  Even the aisle width is calculated for maximum comfort.  Finding a bathroom means trekking through the entire store of tempting displays of bright new possibilities.  This is the psychology of seduction at its greediest.  Sometimes resisting persuasion is best done at home.

Searching drawers and closets for new combinations has become something of a game to me.  Speaking at a conference the fall after my Africa trip I allowed myself to crow a little to myself.  You have come to this conference three years in a row, at the same season of the year.  They have seen all your clothes (as if anyone remembers).  Normally, you would have felt the need for something new (and you did), but everything you have on was found in your own closet.  Congratulations pilgrim! This small win was a milestone along the road to creating financial margins.  A note at a time is how the music is learned.

I shared that “win” with a friend recently and she challenged me to go a step further.  “Next year,” she said, “why don’t you wear the same exact outfit as an act of humility and explain why you are ‘looking the same’ to the people who come to hear you speak?”  Good idea.

Later that year I faced another situation that normally would have triggered a need for new clothes.  We were invited to a wedding with the same crowd of people who had already seen me three weeks earlier in my “wedding attire.”  This time I “shopped” in my accessory shelves and in my jewelry drawer and found new combinations for the basic dress.  All was well.

Sometimes, when even the most extensive closet search doesn’t yield great results, I consider my friends’ closets.  There is always the possibility of borrowing from a friend.  I know women who, every year, bring their clothes to each other’s homes and get their shopping “fix” from one another’s closets—sharing clothing and accessories that still have tags, or are in like-new condition, or simply aren’t being used.  If you bring five items, you can trade for five other things.  They call it My Sister’s Closet.  Plus, here’s a fun extra:  One person ends up with a boa feather scarf they’re required to wear to church the next Sunday!

Finally, if all else fails, I shop.  Without fasting from spending completely, I’ve still managed to cut back to a more balanced relationship with acquiring and needing.

This approach to more frugal living is contagious.  After complimenting my  husband on his “ensemble” as he left for work the other morning, I smiled  when he replied, “Thank you.  I shopped in my own closet!”  Hmm . .

• Don’t have a thing for clothes?  What else could you learn to share?

 

If shopping in your sister’s closet is a problem, it might be because you are a man!  Don’t throw out the principle of this idea.  Think about this concept in male terms.  Instead of closet, think garage or workshop or tool shed.  Does every home on your street need its own lawnmower, edger, power washer and leaf blower?  Could a spirit of cooperation be encouraged between neighbors, relatives and friends that would free up money from tools and machinery that are not used 24/7?

• Designate and Protect Funds.

 

I had a problem protecting my funds.  No matter how much I cut back, or “saved,” actual money seemed to be outside my grasp.  When I complained to a friend that, after all the changes in my life, somehow the money wasn’t designated or in my hands, she suggested that at the beginning of the month I put the money I want to give in an envelope.  When I wanted to spend, I have to take it from the envelope marked “Africa.”  It was much more difficult to spend Africa’s money, than it was to spend undesignated money by check, credit card or cash.  A small trick like this helps to not come to the end of a month asking, “Where’s the money?”

• Establish Personal Matching Funds or a Personal Luxury Tax

I was surprised to learn that the cosmetic surgery business alone in this country is a $15 billion dollar industry, in which two-thirds of its customers are made up of people earning under $50,000.  I’m not sure how that math works.  Actually, it doesn’t.  I’m not saying cosmetic surgery is immoral, or that it is rampant among Christian women, or even that I’m immune to this pull to controlled aging; but developing a little distaste and distance from a culture that chooses Botox over antiretroviral medicines for dying children can’t be a bad thing in my thinking.  Here’s an idea:  set up a “matching fund” for all cosmetic and personal upkeep spending—i.e. a dollar for me, a dollar for my cause, that sort of approach works well.

A personal matching fund can establish boundaries around any personal “perk” that is costly.  If you love skiing, golfing, traveling, horses, sailing . . . that’s great!  Enjoy your blessings.  Savor life.  But if you would like to temper that spending with a cause that could save a life, then a personal matching fund can help keep it all in balance.  Let your conscience guide you.  You can think of it as a “luxury” tax that functions to help keep you balanced.  The definition of “luxury” is highly personal, but the goal is personal integrity, to live a life consistent with your real humanitarian values.

• Explore Ways to Make Extra Money.

 

Besides cutting back, many people are exploring ways to make extra money for a great cause.  Some are setting aside proceeds from garage sales, stock sales, or extra work assignments.  Others are giving lessons in an area of expertise:  cooking lessons, gardening consultations, woodworking projects, piano lessons, computer services, specialized tutoring of any kind.

The projects can be so creative—a Malawi bake sale, an Ethiopian garage sale.  They educate as they raise funds.  In California recently, I ran into a Gulu Walk.  A young man organized this walk to raise awareness about the 25,000 kidnapped children of northern Uganda (Gulu) who have been brutally forced into becoming child soldiers.  With 150 walkers’ pledges he also raised $15,000 for this cause.  Such out-of-the-box thinking for great causes can go a long way.

• Re-think “gifting.”

 

Redeeming our giving patterns could release tons of money for better purposes.  Here are a couple of examples:

 

In a creative twist on giving, Willow Creek Association, decided not to “perk” their banquet guests, all ministry partners, with the usual Willow logo gifts—gym bags, tennis shirts, stadium blankets, mugs.  Instead, they explained they had made an executive decision to use those budgeted monies in their guests’ name to scholarship a worthy Zambian college student.  The money that would have been spent on Willow branded “tchotchkes” for that one event alone was enough to send this young person through college!  The 300 ministry partner guests warmly received and applauded this decision as an excellent choice and money well-spent.  Weeks later this letter from Bright Hope headquarters (who was Willow’s NGO contacts for this scholarship) was addressed to Steve and me.  “The Willow volunteers really ‘caught the vision’ (for scholarships for college education).  In the last few days we have had several people contact us and mail in donations for additional scholarships!”  Good ideas spread.

What if this “gifting” in someone’s name for a good cause, instead of typical business perks, caught on in the corporate world?  It would be amazing.  Corporate America, not-for-profit America, plus much of   the personal giving in our country are generally untapped sources for creative giving.  Go ahead and ask for gifting for your cause, be it cows, antiretroviral treatments, micro enterprise businesses, education, church planting, or medical care.

Here’s one you’ll love:  In 2004, 13-year-old, Kendall Ciesemier, facing a liver transplant asked in lieu of people giving her the usual teddy bears and gifts, that instead people make a financial gift to her on-line charity.  These gifts were then handed over to an organization working with AIDS orphans.  Two liver transplants and an operation for complications later, this 13-year-old raised approximately $50,000 for her cause.  To learn more about Kendall and her cause you can visit her Website at www.Kidscaring4Kids.org.

Then, consider this from corporate America:  At the end of the year, some employees are asking their employers to convert their unused  vacation and sick days into donations for AIDS.  Kudos to business employers and workers willing to apply this kind of creative thinking to a pandemic disease.

When we look at gifting, it would be an oversight not to mention Warren Buffet.  In June 2006, Buffett made a commitment of $31 billion to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation—which primarily funds education and global health needs.  This is the largest charitable donation ever made in U.S. history.  At an estimated worth of $46 billion, Forbes magazine ranks Buffett as the second wealthiest person in the world (second only to Bill Gates).  Yet, despite his wealth, Buffett is famous for his unpretentious lifestyle.  He lives simply on his $100,000 per year salary, which is in great contrast to the average annual salary of Fortune 500 company senior executives of $9,000,000.  Additionally, Buffett is not planning to leave immense wealth to his children when he dies.  He is giving the bulk of his estate away.

Warren Buffett is leaving excellent signage for the rest of us about the real purpose of wealth, whether it is in the billionaire range or well-enough-off by the world’s standards.  I admit to a little envy here.  It would be nice to be so wealthy that one could give in large amounts from the overflow of one’s life, but those financial options are rare.  Most of us must carve dollars out of already financially committed lives.  But Buffett’s money alone will not end AIDS.  Nor can he play my part.  I may have, by comparison, only a widow’s mite to give.  But the spiritual journey traveled to release such small funds is an invaluable one, and one honored by God.

And so I continue trying to alter my lifestyle.  It’s a steep struggle with encouragements and failures.  I try to give as much grace to myself as I would to any other pilgrim.  But, I am also increasingly tough.  Over and over, I return to the practice bench, a little wiser, a little more determined.  Once again, I attempt to play the music to this score of response to AIDS one note at a time.  I am about at the simple Alfred beginner level, but now and then there is a sense that there is a possibility for beautiful music in the days ahead.

Developing A Personal Plan – Financial Steps

• Try a spending fast. Discover your bilingual values and where the fault lines lie in your soul.  Keep a journal with notes of your successes and struggles.  Don’t waste the lessons of failure.  Learn.

 

• Shop in your own closet. What are you getting out of shopping besides purchases?  Hope?  Relationships?  Perceived status?  Notice what fills the vacuum when it isn’t occupied with acquiring new things. There may be “found” time for calls to friends, reading good books, volunteering, etc.

 

• Be creative about sharing expensive tools and machinery that are not used 24/7. Put some real power into those testosterone-appealing power tools and share them with the intent of freeing up money not spent there for an urgent AIDS-related cause.

 

• Designate and protect your funds. Decide how much you want to save each month and put it aside.  When you want to spend you have to take it from that designated fund . . . the Africa envelope, the India or South America envelope . . . Ouch!

• Establish personal matching funds. Consider this a type of personal luxury tax.  Try this self talk, “If you can’t afford the tax, you can’t afford the luxury.”

• Discover ways to create new monies. What is sitting around your house collecting dust that could be sold on EBay or at a garage sale?  What skills can you sell?

There is hidden money in our grocery bills.  Most grocery stores  will total the amount of the savings on sales items.  For instance, this week I “saved” $14.50 by their counting.  By writing a check for the  total amount, including the overage, and getting the $14.50 back, I was able to add that money to my cow fund.  If I shop every week at  that savings that will mount up to $754.00—that’s 1 ½ cows!

• Re-think gifting. Your friends can help you get what you really want for your birthday or for Christmas or for your wedding or operation.  Whatever groups you are a member of can be encouraged to “gift” each other in more causal ways.  Think corporate.  Think workplace. Think neighborhood.  Think church groups and family.

 

• Sacrifice something of your lifestyle. At Christmastime 2006, Whittier Area Community Church (in Whittier California) took a special offering to raise money for a pediatric hospital in Malawi, Africa.  The original estimate on building the medical facility was $50,000.  They thought that was going to be a stretch for their congregation.  But then they learned that to completely equip the hospital they would actually need to raise $160,000.  On Christmas morning, according to their pastor Dr.Ankerberg, “The mood was electric.  People brought their offerings to the front of the church.  Women cried, children ran up smiling, people gave with the greatest joy we have ever seen.  They were delighted to give God that which cost them something.”

Before taking the offering, the people were asked to write on their envelopes the source of their money.  The Nyasa Times reported,  “Children had sold toys, candy, saved allowances, babysat and gave up Christmas presents to be able to give to the children of Malawi.  Adults had given up physical therapy, Christmas presents, hosted dinners, sold stock, donated savings, sold cars and foregone winter vacations.  One couple gave up money they would have used for fertility drugs in the hopes that even if they couldn’t have a baby,  maybe they could help save the life of someone else’s child.

The church raised a staggering $525, 057 in that one single offering!  They were blown away and are talking about it as the Miracle for  Malawi.

 

 

• Keep trying! Don’t be discouraged if your learning curve involves failure.  Your spiritual formation can make a difference in the world.  Keep learning one note at a time.  Don’t let your global spirituality be side-tracked by discouragement.   

 

• Get expert help. Check out two Web sites that provide outstanding help to boost financial responsibility.  First, the Good Sense Web site at http://www.goodsenseministry.com.  Good Sense is a Willow Creek Association ministry that offers workshops, curriculum and training events for church leaders on money matters. It is an excellent resource and highly recommended for those trying to live with financial integrity.  

 

 Also, Mary Hunt is the foremost guru for debt-proof living.  Her Web

Site, http://www.cheapskatemonthly.com is a rich resource of archived material with everything from tips of the day to  extremely practical information on saving money and living within your means.  Excellent!  Excellent!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.  Judith Levine, Not Buying It:  My Year Without Shopping (New York: Free Press, 2006).

2.  David Brooks, “Affluent Attitude.” New York Times, December 28, 2002, p. A15.  As quoted in Consuming Faith: Integrating Who We Are with What We Buy. Tom Beaudoin, (Lanham, MD: Sheed and Ward, 1969), p. 105.

(This chapter is excerpted from An African Awakening:  My Journey Into AIDS Activism by Valerie Bell)