It is a good thing on every occasion to prepare for ourselves a little less than we need, for it is not good for us to be completely satisfied in everything.

Throughout my professional ministry I taught Christian stewardship. I even wrote a few books about it. And I tried – pretty unsuccessfully – to challenge what I saw as a false dichotomy. Many pastors draw an either/or distinction between scarcity and abundance. I offered a third choice: sufficiency. I was influenced in this perspective by Dorotheos of Gaza.

American culture in the United States seems to be defined by one simple precept: more is better. Now, there are times when more is unquestionably better (pie). Times when having as much as you want (pie), having more than enough (pie), and having something leftover (pie) is great. But it should not be the defining value of one’s life, especially one devoted to the teachings and person of Jesus Christ. We often talk about the dangers of a scarcity mentality and offer as the alternative the abundance of a loving providential God. And certainly, there is an abundance of beauty, of resources, of goodness, of hope, of possibility, of potential, and provision at the global level. But day-by-day, household-by-household, family-by-family, community-by-community, nation-by-nation, country-by-country? A fixation on abundance is a mixed bag. Those living with abundance are both inspiration and irritation to those living hand-to-mouth. A focus on abundance is an insult to those denied even the barest essentials. Abundance just shines a brighter light on the pain and injustice of poverty. And the pursuit of more and more and more becomes toxic. How many multi-billionaires need another billion?

Dorotheos challenges us to think about what changes when we shift our thinking from abundance to sufficiency, and not just personal sufficiency, but sufficiency for the common good. What changes when our thinking is not merely how much is enough, but how much is enough for everyone?

I think about John Wesley and how when he was relatively young, he determined for himself that he could live comfortably on 28 pounds a year. Legend has it that he never spent more than 30 pounds in a given year. Now, honest reality check: the 18th century in England was a century of disinflation. What this means is that a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, a bottle of wine, etc., cost less at the end of Wesley’s life than it did at the beginning. We, alas, do not enjoy this blessing. But setting this aside, Wesley modelled a form of sufficiency thinking that would be revolutionary in our modern culture. But why? Why is it so difficult to determine the baseline of a comfortable existence, add in a little extra for fun and recreation, and then use the remainder for the needs of others? (Look, I would be a raging hypocrite if I gave even the smallest indication that I live this way. I am including myself in the “what if?”) But the basic benefit is: if I lower my expectations and demands, I am much less likely to be disappointed, and I am less likely to devote my time and energy to getting more and more.

Were we to travel to 6th century Gaza to visit Dorotheos we would most likely hate it, be appalled by it, and thank God and our lucky stars that we don’t have to live that way. We would look at a life that Dorotheos and his brotherhood saw as comfortable and blessed as impoverished and austere at best. We would shake our head at the food, we would bitch and moan about the sleeping arrangements, we would hate the schedule, and we would likely feel oppressed by the eight hours of worship and the ten hours of work. Speaking for myself, I am spoiled, pampered, comforted, supplied, coddled, and privileged in ways I take too easily for granted.

In preparation for my retirement this past July, my wife Barbara and I got rid of (quite literally) a ton of stuff. Clothes, books, supplies, decorations, tchotchkes, pens, pencils, puzzles, games, DVDs, towels, blankets, etc., so much that we hadn’t even unpacked from our last couple moves dating back decades. More than once, I wondered, “where did all this stuff come from?” Why did we have it? Why did we keep it? Couldn’t others benefit from it? We also unearthed about 5,000 miles of power cords, connection cables, splitters, and power strips, many of which we couldn’t even identify the electronics they went with. Even now, you can recharge just about anything on earth in any room of our house, including the bathroom. How. Much. Is. Enough?

Advent is a time of preparation and waiting. I wonder, along with Dorotheos, if this time could not be used wisely to take stock of all we have, reflect on what we really need, and to get rid of what we don’t need in order to make some more space for God in our lives, and a Christ-Spirit ready to be born anew? What might you get rid of? How do you differentiate needs from wants? What might you be able to do with less that you cannot possibly do with more?