Gentleness in Simplicity
Do you ever find yourself immersed in a story set in the past and think, “If only I lived back then my life would be so much simpler (read: easier)!”
From Pride and Prejudice to Little Women to Anne of Green Gables to Little House on the Prairie, I am a wistful and selective reader. I casually gloss over the Scarlet Fever, the men at war, and the farm chores and find myself reveling in the idea of simpler times.
One scant set of tin dishes we wash after each meal suddenly appeals to my inner minimalist as I survey the countless cups and dishes my kids abandoned halfway to the dishwasher.
Fresh food from the garden! Fresh milk from the cow! Never mind the gardening, milking, and the fact you may not survive the oncoming winter.
Long walks around beautifully landscaped estates, arm-in-arm with your dearest friends (when I read, I am always happy to assume I’d be of the landed gentry and definitely not a peasant).
The reality is that we are overrun with gadgets, life hacks, and a gazillion beautifully designed storage containers to make our lives more simple, and yet we are frazzled, disorganized, fragmented, and drowning in stuff. Friends, there is nothing gentle about that.
With a family of six, three homeschool students and toddler, and multiple businesses, it can feel near impossible to keep up with the stuff, the schedules, and the necessary connection to one another. One example: the last several years, my New Year’s Resolution has been to file our taxes before the extension deadline. Here’s hoping 2024 is my year! :)
Everyone, from every place and time, has had the benefits of simplicity and the challenges of hard work and difficulty in their own forms. Where one problem gets solved, another presents itself, and I am constantly reminding myself that les problèmes du jour are simply our set of puzzles to solve.
Our family went through a chaotic 18 or so months during which we moved cross-country, then back 8 months later, moving into a house that immediately experienced flooding and had to move out, lived in less than 900 sq ft for 9 months with the new baby born literally in that house, purchased and moved into our long-term, current home in an absolutely insane real estate market all on the heels of COVID.
I actually left all the self-employed people job transition things out, but surely you feel me when I say after all that I was left feeling absolutely out of whack in almost every way.
What I wanted to do—what I tried to do—was more. More organizing, more lists, more habits, more things, more control.
What I finally heard God telling me and what my soul desperately needed to hear was less is more. Do less. Own less. Need less.
The path to contentment is the path of simplicity. The message of the gospel is that Christ himself is our satisfaction, and we have all that we need in him. In the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew chapters 5-7, Jesus addresses this is multiple ways, saying this in 6:33-34, “But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
Do we add to our troubles by adding in more? For me, the answer is often yes, and after this chaotic season the Lord has graciously worked within me to give me a desire for less. Less of this world, more of Him. For me, taking a gentle approach to life looks a lot like taking a step back to appreciate the abundance God has given, rather than the quest for more.
Less stuff, less clutter, less on the calendar, less striving, less comparing, less spending, less consuming. Less leaves room for more! More space, more peace, more time together, more resting, more contentment, more giving, more creating.
I hope as we close out 2023 and begin a new year, we have a holy restlessness within us for both less and more. Less of what is fleeting, more of Christ. Less to keep us distracted, more of the Kingdom experienced here and now. Less of ourselves, more of Him.
