The Riches of Poverty

I just stumbled upon this essay that I wrote for English class last year--it still rings true with my heart, but how easily do I forget that living a life of poverty is of utmost importance. This is probably the essay that I've had the most fun with--and the most spiritual reflection. So sit back, relax, and enjoy.

The Riches of Poverty

“Let us remain as empty as possible so that God can fill us up” (Teresa). Can that suggestion even be taken seriously? Do most of us even think twice before shoving these words to the back of our mind and getting on with life? In our dog-eat-dog society, to desire poverty is absolutely ridiculous. To have a career, a furnished house and a two or three-car garage is the American Dream—and maybe a couple of cute kids running around in Gap clothes. When I first heard Jesus’ claim, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven,” I was nothing short of infuriated. Why are independence and success bad? Why can I not desire both things and God? I wanted to give my heart completely to Jesus, the one I’d sought and fought for as long as I could remember, but I couldn’t come to terms with my faith until I experienced spiritual poverty myself. Because of the spirit that fills me when nothing else can, I now desire nothing more than to become a poor missionary after college. I also desire nothing more than to share the reflection that has brought me to this point, because it has been completely life-changing. Although my beliefs run completely contrary to the understanding of most of the people I know, I believe that poverty is freedom.

I’ve witnessed so many rich people swallowed by depression and so many poor people with open eyes and open hearts. I’m not saying that it’s bad to have money or to desire things, but I do believe that material things hinder spiritual growth for those who desire it, and that poverty is freeing in a way that we can’t understand until we experience it. Because this suggestion is nothing short of completely weird, I’d like to know first why people want to fill their lives with “stuff”? Also, why were the poor so special to Jesus? And lastly, why does poverty, both spiritual and physical, often make it much easier to trust God? I won’t romanticize the lives of the poor. Many die too early from disease and starvation, and many turn to drugs and stealing to ease their pain. The poor are certainly not all joyful people, but I do believe that most of the time, their short lives are fuller than those of wealthy Americans today. I do believe that desperation is freedom, because it allows people to completely surrender to and receive God’s love and mercy.

When I asked my friend Brent why he wanted to be rich, he answered, “So I have enough to do anything I want.” In a class of my friend Addison, the teacher asked, “How much do you have to make in order to be happy?” $50,000 was the lowest salary mentioned by those who spoke up. Almost everyone we know gets down in the dumps about paying bills when they could just opt for a smaller house and less cell phones. My question is, “Why don’t they?” Mother Teresa writes, “You in the West have the spiritually poorest of the poor much more than you have the physically poor. Often among the rich are very spiritually poor people…To console or to remove the bitterness, anger, and loneliness that comes from being spiritually deprived, that takes a long time” (94) We fill our lives with things—things that will wear out, go out of style, break, or get stolen—things that we can’t take with us after this life—and yet we adamantly believe these things are the key to happiness. Society tells us so, the media tells us so, even our parents tell us so. But where is the happiness?

Okay, okay…so there’s another side to this. Many wealthy people feel splendidly blessed because they have enough to pay for their family’s health care, a warm house, food, vacations, and extracurricular activities. Chelsea Kearns says frankly, “If my kid wants cleats so he can join the soccer team, I don’t see that as a bad thing. I won’t spoil him, but I want to be able to show my love by giving him things that make him happy.” Most Americans hope to treat their children this way—filling the family room with presents on Christmas morning, taking them to a few movies every now and then. I grew up in a middle class family and was able to take part in lots of great activities and vacations that have helped me to experience the world and grow as a person. I have always been able to find food and water, I’ve always had a great bed to sleep in, and I’ve always been able to travel in order to see my closest friends and family. The education I’ve had is exceptional compared with that of most countries outside of America. On the other hand, I’ve always felt sympathy for the poor, because I’ve only been exposed to the poor in America, where their condition is heartbreaking. They are part of a world that tells them money is the most important thing, so they steal, join gangs, and do drugs with the cash they can get their hands on—and the heartbreak doesn’t end in America. In other countries, people die too early of disease, starvation, and uncivilized warfare. Many of these people must turn to God because they have nothing else to hope in. It is all too easy to say, “I want money”—look at where you’ll end up if you don’t have it! You end up on the streets, in the dumpsters, dying of disease while your teeth rot.

Having a measure of wealth is certainly a good thing for living in this imperfect, fallen world, but does it fill the heart, as so many seem to believe? Does it satisfy? Does it allow us to believe truly in a form of goodness much bigger than what we experience here on earth? It was wonderful to experience all of the blessings I had throughout my life, but in the long run, I feel that all comfort does is keep me from being bold enough to go out on a limb. I long to become a missionary, but even though it is my dream, I am daily filled with doubt over whether I will ever be able to leave this comfortable life. I am so comfortable that even with the heavens above and the one in 95204 kajillion chances that we would even exist, I doubt that God is even there. Many people in America are not religious, and are completely happy with that. I think that’s fine, and I sometimes wish that I didn’t believe in the “something more,” because I think it makes life a lot easier—just follow the way of the world that you can see and completely understand—get a nice job and a house, raise some kids comfortably, take a plane out west, plant a garden and have a front porch swing…but somehow, I can’t settle for that because I feel, like many of the poor, that because we live in such an extremely evil and broken world—the counterpart has to be out there.

In a well-known parable, when a rich young ruler asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus tells him to sell everything he has and give to the poor, so he will have treasure in Heaven instead of solely on earth. The ruler is unable to part with his wealth…as so many of us are today. I don’t think Jesus says, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” (Bible, Luke 18:25) because He doesn’t like the rich, but because He knows that they cherish things on earth more than the Spirit of hope, mercy, forgiveness and love that he freely offers. I recently heard an American pastor say, “I don’t think Jesus is really saying, ‘Sell everything you have,’ but just, ‘Be generous.’” Even the Americans that are considered to be the most spiritual have fallen deep into the American way and love their stuff. I am running from this. Not even God can put anything in a heart that is already full.

Socrates, a great philosopher, said confidently, “Man gains wisdom only through suffering.” Philip Yancey expands on this philosophical knowledge by listing the spiritual advantages of being poor. Some of these read, “The poor know not only their dependence on God and on powerful people but also their interdependence with one another. The poor can distinguish between necessities and luxuries. When the poor have the Gospel preached to them, it sounds like good news and not like a threat or a scolding” (115). Moreover, the fears of the poor are realistic, because they already know that one can survive great want. And most important of the advantages, in my opinion, is that the poor can respond to Jesus’ call with uncomplicated totality because they have so little to lose and are ready for anything. As a Christian, I seek God in my darkest hours. When I feel like I’m on top of the world, I tend to forget all about Him, thanking him only occasionally for my blessings. If the poor believe in God, they are completely dependent on Him, so their prayers are consistent, their hope is unforgotten, and their humility is natural. The rich believers continually strive after these qualities that the poor gain without effort, but often fall short because the material world is so tempting when one can afford to be a part of it. Only after the apostle Paul, who had all the fame and fortune one could ask for, was blinded by God, did he clearly see Jesus’ message. The poor in Jesus’ time loved Him and followed Him upon first meeting.

Jesus claimed that he came so that we might have life, and have it to the full. We all have this problem of becoming “hungry again,” whether for more clothes, food, or cars, so we keep buying more, ever without complete satisfaction. However, I experienced secondhand what it means to have the “bread of life,” the “life to the full” that Jesus offers, when I went on my first mission trip. In Appalachian Kentucky, I met a family who was dirt poor. They had only a few floorboards in their beat-up trailer, no running water, and plastic bags hanging from the ceiling to catch leaks. Even in their desperate condition, they had used most of their money to build a tiny church behind their home in order to honor God with singing and prayer. Billy Ray, an eleven-year-old at the time, gave freely of his time and belongings, insisting that I keep his only CD and helping us build a porch in the scorching summer sun. Not only was the generosity of the Smiths inspiring, but the wonder and awe of this family over every living thing and every small blessing in their lives was moving to the point of tears.

I want to understand their joy. I want to experience the complete surrender and trust that the Smiths experience in their lives, at the level where I can’t just drive back to my comfy house in a week. I want to be able to say to the poor, “Yes, I was also very hungry last night. Yes, I also haven’t slept.” Through mission work, insight and love are received back a tenfold, and I can’t imagine how much more wonderful it will feel when I have not only the spirit of poverty, but worldly poverty as well.

The rich may be happy. They may know God just as well as a poor man can. And heck, if you don’t believe in God, just live it up! Maybe it is a blessing to simply live for the moment, for this world. However, in my own life, I really believe in the something more, and I feel that it’s completely impossible to serve both God and money at the same time. Shopping sprees and relaxing vacations feel great, but they allow for me to get lazy about what’s really important in my life, and that’s God’s Grace. Saint Francis of Assisi’s prayer reads, “It is by forgetting self that one finds.” Poverty is a form of forgetting self. Likewise, Jesus Christ said in his last days, “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” (Bible, John 12:24). Jesus is talking about the death of trust in this world. The death of materialism and worry and greed. I believe that becoming impoverished is the best way to have your eyes opened to the most important truths, and to live deeply the “life to the full” that we’ve all been created to live.