If only simple living were actually simple. I recently found my way to a website dedicated to this topic. The author suggested those interested in this lifestyle could hire a style consultant to simplify their wardrobes. Then they could sign up for an extensive eight-week course on how to live a simple life. Oh, and I can’t forget the $30 million minimalist house featured prominently on the site. The website made simply living actually look pretty complicated—and expensive.
Katherine, a friend of mine, recently went on a road trip that took her near the house of an acquaintance. Katherine values minimalism and thrift, so she asked if she might stay the night with this woman. She later explained to me: “I only expected a shower and a bed and certainly no more than a bowl of cereal for breakfast. But what I received was a full experience: decadent, home-cooked meals; a collection of new friends; great conversation; and the warming of a soul that only comes with hospitality toward the whole person, perfectly executed.” Katherine sought simplicity, but she received generosity.
What should we do with this simple living paradox: the challenge that, for many of us, living simply takes real work? Even when we attempt the simple lifestyle, we may end up with another experience entirely. I prefer to look at those who were just as baffled some 2,000 years ago. “Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have learned to be content with whatever I have” (Phil. 4:11), wrote the Apostle Paul from his jail cell in Rome. He had just received a gift from the community of the Philippians, with whom he had stayed and to whom he had ministered.
Many scholars scratch their heads in wonder when they see the placement of this expression of gratitude in Paul’s letter to the Philippians way back in its fourth chapter. Why wait until the very end of a letter to acknowledge a gift that was clearly unexpected? Perhaps it’s the same reason that sometimes pushes me to avoid acknowledging gifts I consider uncalled-for, unexpected, and truly generous. Such gifts can disrupt a pursuit of simplicity, upending plans for a minimalist approach.
Paul was a missionary who would not have typically accepted gifts for himself. In fact, he was about as far from current-day prosperity preachers asking their congregations for funds to purchase a private jet as we can imagine. For Paul, such gifts would have directly contradicted the humility in Christ he pursued, the self-emptying about which he preached.
While simply living is not so simple, it can lead to generosity in many forms: generous giving of time; generous giving of money; generous giving of love; and, eventually, generous thanksgiving. Philippians 4:11 reminds us, however, that complications arise when we attempt to live simply. Epaphroditus, the one who delivered the gift from the Philippians, almost died of illness when he was with Paul. As Paul sought to live simply, Epaphroditus “came close to death for the work of Christ, risking his life to make up for those services that you could not give me” (Phil. 2:30).
Such reminders help to dissuade us from dangerous notions that those who live in poverty have life easy. And yet for those who have much, living simply can become a call to action responding to God’s good and unexpected gifts. As Paul indicates, it is a learning process, a sanctification process, even, of being made holy by the Spirit’s good work in us.
Like Paul, as we focus our living-out of the gospel of Christ, we cannot expect that simply living is easy. Together, though, we may find that with God, simple living is faithful.