Let's start with a moral: “Reverence collides with minimalism in this concept: To get to the holy we have to leave what’s heavy.” Warning: This post draws heavily on Christianity as it is my religion and frame of reference. However, reverence supersedes religion. Don’t let a differing worldview stop you from cross-selling. Let’s start with the Orange Juice Caps. I am one of 9 children, and I had an excellent childhood. I loved it and it shaped me into a decent member of society. But as is sometimes the case with children, I occasionally felt like a burden to society. My parents loved me dearly, but if you’ve been the tail end of a large family you know what it’s like to be the offspring 99% of couples won’t have. People judge. It’s just the tall and short of it. I understand as I grow older that it’s probably more shock than disdain, but if you’re a relatively perceptive youngster people’s reactions can wear on your soul. And the more towards the back of the line you are the easier it is to feel like the problem. So, despite the best efforts of my parents and people close to me I sometimes felt extraneous, and those sorts of feelings tend to follow a person into adulthood. I came into the idea around 7 or 8-years-old that collecting caps from orange juice cartons would be a great idea. I could fill a shoe box and I could do something with them—use them like currency or make some cool project or just sit and stare happily at my treasure. There's not a good explanation I can give you why the orange juice caps were valuable to me. But I had wealth no one else I knew had, and that was important to me. I think this is a basic human instinct and based on your own frame of reference or field of expertise you could probably explain my actions. The more I experience life the more I see this instinct feed off insecurity. My insecurities about my worth and my extraneousness somehow got a little tied up in my collection of caps. I started collecting milk lids too, coke bottle caps, and the occasional water bottle cap if it felt significant. I’m not sure when I stopped collecting this specific item, but as a rule for combating insecurity I’ve continued collecting until fairly recently when I adopted minimalism as a more reverent posture. There is a line between collecting and hoarding that various scientific journals and reliable medical websites can tell you about, and collecting isn't unhealthy. But minimalism is an important shift in mindset for me because my deepest insecurity is feeling extraneous or undervalued by society. And I will, irreverently, work on possessing in order to fill this void. Unfortunately, the more stuff I put in this space the less space I have, and the heavier I feel. Shifting towards minimalism redirects my physical state to align with my spiritual goals. Spiritual goals are a perfect segue into "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God". If you haven’t read this or listened to it, it’s a brief sermon given by Jonathan Edwards at a pivotal time in history. It is credited with fueling the Great Awakening and has had massive implications in the lives of many people. I take no stance on this sermon. Only to say it is an incredible study in doctrine, literature, and history, and looking at it through any of these lenses would be time well-spent. For the purpose of this blog I’m going to key in on a single concept Edwards reiterates in graphic detail throughout the sermon: Each living human is tethered by a bare and dwindling thread to the hand of a terrifyingly powerful being, and at any moment the thread may snap, plunging the wayward to eternal damnation and the fiery lips of hell. It’s riveting—inspiring and terrifying. Listening to Max McLean (over)dramatically read Edward’s sermon did not spark in me an intense motivation to live a guilt-riddled life of good deeds. It sparked awe at the raw and serious power of an intensely merciful God. A God whose greatness upholds the weak and bends down the arrogant. It ignited wonder at the concept of eternal justice and a great judge whose will I can rely on. It instigated feelings of terror to believe I am small enough to be cut at the mere inkling or notion of this violent God, yet important enough to be known and upheld and forgiven. To me, reverence, is appropriately applied fear. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." ~Solomon This is the persuasive kindling in Edwards literary fire. He appeals to reverence, and lets the guilt fall where it may. The problem with fear and guilt is that basic instinct makes us hoarders. And hoarded guilt and shame are feelings rooted in a bad sort of fear. (Guilt and shame can also be felt at the wrong times, like feeling guilty for making the cashier at Wendy's have to punch the button for a 9th chocolate frosty). There may be some purpose in a time should we need to know remorse, but these are not feelings we keep in a shoe box in the closet and add a little bit to now and then in secret. Self-deprecation is a poisonous form of validation. These are feelings to address and be done with. The soul is infinite and should be handled as sacred. Leave what’s heavy behind. Know the kind of fear that inspires, not the kind that desecrates. Don't be afraid that you are worthless. Be afraid of not knowing your worth. On to Mike Ditka I saw this good fear and bad fear play out in a documentary on Mike Ditka. Ditka is a notoriously aggressive coach. An angry and inspirational leader well-known for creating a dominating Chicago Bears team in the mid 80’s followed by an abysmal Bears team in the late 80’s. Somewhere along the line there was a loss of reverence. His once-inspiring anger turned to petulant tirades. He didn’t inspire results through tough expectation, he perpetuated a cycle of guilt and arrogance. He wasn’t leading, he was trying to drag his team behind him, and the results were evident. Navigating fear and its role in things like accountability, motivation, inspiration, action, inaction, appropriate risk-aversion, courage, gratitude, and guilt, this is the point of reverence, and I’m certain it is something Ditka has contemplated. Conclusion A shoe box of orange juice caps may momentarily ease my fear of having little value, but it cannot replace the rest that comes from living in reverence. What I’m seeking is the affirmation that I am small, and so is everyone else, and together we exist in a beautiful creation with a magnificent creator, and an essential purpose to live out every single day. Dear reader, here is something important to know. We may die at any time. What drives your fear? What gives you life? “And the Lord said to Moses, take off your shoes, you are standing on Holy Ground.” ***There are a lot of really challenging emotions out there. This is a reminder to the reader that those emotions shouldn't be dealt with in isolation and there are people trained to help***
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I'm a Hoosier. I like the outdoors. Taxes are my job. I write for a living. This Blog
Writing my way to an adult life of minimalism, sustainability, and joy rooted in Truth. I'm learning, unlearning, and relearning.
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