Chapter 2
If silver and gold are things evil in themselves, then those who keep away from them deserve to be praised. But if they are good creatures of God, which we can use both for the needs of our neighbor and for the glory of God, is not a person silly, yes, even unthankful to God, if he refrains from them as if they were evil? MARTIN LUTHER
Away, then, with that inhuman philosophy which, while conceding only a necessary use of creatures, not only malignantly deprives us of the lawful fruit of God’s beneficence but cannot be practiced unless it robs a man of all his senses and degrades him to a block. JOHN CALVIN
At times I crave an audible voice from heaven that would tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do with my money and possessions. Philip Yancey expresses my own dilemma when it comes to money:
Many Christians have one issue that haunts them and never falls silent: for some, it involves sexual identity; for others, a permanent battle against doubt. For me, the issue is money. It hangs over me, keeping me off balance, restless, uncomfortable, nervous.
I feel pulled in opposite directions over the money issue. Sometimes I want to sell all that I own, join a Christian commune, and live out my days in intentional poverty. At other times, I want to rid myself of guilt and enjoy the fruits of our nation’s prosperity. Mostly, I wish I did not have to think about money at all. But I must somehow come to terms with the Bible’s very strong statements about money.6
God gives us principles in his Word, principles that will change us if we believe them. Yet we are left with a lot of latitude. I appreciate freedom, but it raises a lot of questions. In light of global needs and the tendency to be distracted from the things of God, should I own a house? a car? two cars? If so, what kind of house or car? Is it all right to own a nice suit? Can I own one, but not two or three? How many pairs of shoes are too many? Is it all right to golf once in a while but too extravagant to belong to a club? Can I go out for dinner? If so, where and how often? Should I take a vacation that costs three hundred dollars but not one that costs three thousand? How can I be sure I’m pleasing God in my financial decisions?
Materialism is money-centered and thing-centered rather than God-centered. It has no place in the Christian life. But is there an opposite extreme? Can the pendulum swing away from materialism and go too far in the other direction? I believe the answer is yes. That other extreme is asceticism. Asceticism is a way of thinking that sees money and things as evil. To the ascetic, the less you own, the more spiritual you are. If something isn’t essential, you shouldn’t have it.
Materialism and asceticism are rooted in equally wrong views of money and possessions. In subsequent chapters, we will take a close look at materialism, including materialism in the Church. In this chapter we’ll consider the question of whether money is evil or good. Then we’ll examine asceticism in light of history and Scripture.
Understanding the Nature of Money
If we are to understand our proper relationship to money, we must first understand what money is.
Money is more than just metal disks or colored paper. It is a tool that simplifies trade. The farmer needs lumber more than beef, milk, and eggs. He has plenty of those. The lumberman needs beef, milk, and eggs more than his many stacks of boards. By trading their goods, both get what they want.
Money is a tool that can expedite such a trade and widen its circle to include others. Rather than trading two pigs for a plow and three sacks of grain, one person can give another the agreed-upon worth of the two pigs in the form of money. This saves time and energy. Who wants to carry around pigs and plows?
God encouraged the people of Israel to take advantage of money’s convenience. He told them that if their place of worship was too far from their home, they should exchange the tithes of their crops and livestock for silver, then convert it back to the goods of their choice once they arrived (Deuteronomy 14:24-26).
Money allows much more flexibility than a direct exchange of goods. If I get fifty dollars for my pigs, I can use the money to buy the exact plow I want, two sacks of grain instead of three, or whatever I prefer and can afford. Instead of grain, I can buy coffee, a saddle, a lamp, or books.
Money is one person’s promise of goods or services, granted in return for actual goods or services. In a sense, money is no more than a widely recognized IOU. Realizing its convenience, people consent to participate in an economic system in which money is the transferable object that makes it all possible. Of course, it’s only the widespread participation of others in this same system that gives meaning to money. Without the mutual agreement that money means something, money means nothing.
Because money has no inherent value, only ascribed value, money is not wealth. It merely symbolizes wealth. You can’t eat money and you can’t plow a field with it. You can use a one hundred dollar bill to light a cigar or wad up your gum, but that’s about it. Practically speaking, gold is much less valuable than some other metals. In and of itself, it’s little more than a pretty paperweight or doorstop. Gold, silver, platinum, coins, and currency are only worth something in a society where other people have agreed to attach a certain value to them. That they do so is proven by their willingness to give goods and services in exchange for them.
Money is nothing more than a pledge of assets, a means of payment, a medium of exchange. It is morally neutral. Puritan William Ames put it this way: “Riches . . . are morally neither good nor bad, but things indifferent which men may use either well or ill.”7
Money has social and economic benefits that can be used for the betterment of people. As a plow can be used for honest labor and a sack of grain for feeding a family, so money, which simply represents their value, can be used for good. If my neighbor’s barn burns down, I may give him some grain out of compassion for his loss. Or I may sell the grain and give him money to use as he wishes, perhaps to buy meat, lumber, or tools. The grain and the money amount to the same thing, except that the money can be used for other goods besides grain.
Christian compassion can accomplish great good through the giving of grain, lumber, or money to alleviate suffering. Money can be used to feed, clothe, and provide shelter. It can fund the translation and printing of Bibles, provide for missionaries, or build houses of worship. In this sense, money may appear to be good. But it’s really the giver who is doing good. People may be moral or immoral, but things are morally neutral. The money is an instrument of good, not good itself. Money is no more responsible for doing good than a computer is responsible for writing a book or a baseball bat for hitting a home run.
Money can be used to buy a slave or a whip to be used on a slave. Money can purchase sex, bribe a judge, buy cocaine, and fund terrorist acts. But in each case the evil resides in people, not money, just as in other cases the good resides in people, not money.
Water is a gift of God. Used properly, it gives life. Out of control, it floods, drowns, and destroys. Fire is a gift of God. Out of control, it brings horrible destruction and death. The greater a thing’s potential for good when used rightly, the greater its potential for evil when used wrongly. So it is with money—it has vast potential to be used for either good or evil.
If this were a morally neutral world, we would expect money to be used in a morally neutral way. But the world is not neutral—it is sinful and under a curse (Romans 8:20-22). This is the problem with money. In a sinful world, money becomes something other than a neutral means of barter. It becomes an instrument of power. In the hands of sinful people, power is perverted into oppression, and money becomes an object of worship, a false god. In rejecting a God they don’t wish to serve, sinful people instead come to serve—and serve themselves with—the god of money.
Although there’s nothing inherently wrong with money, there’s something desperately wrong with devotion to money. “People who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Timothy 6:9-10).
Given all the error, deception, and abuse of money, Richard Foster argues that money is not neutral, but “a ‘power’ that is demonic in character.”8 I believe this is an overstatement that logically leads to asceticism or even dualism, yet it’s certainly true that money can be used for demonic purposes.
Since money can be used for either good or evil, if those using it are more evil than good, it will most often be used for evil. The problem is human sinfulness—and so it will be until Christ returns and we live on the new earth, where there will be no more curse and no more evil (Revelation 21:1-5).
Jesus said to his disciples, “I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings” (Luke 16:9).
I’ll deal with the precise meaning of these words later, but my point now is simply that Jesus tells us to do something good with “worldly wealth” (literally, “the mammon of unrighteousness”). It’s as if he’s saying, “Take this thing that is commonly used for evil and use it for good. Look at this worn currency; smell in it the foul purposes for which it was used—perhaps to buy drugs or sex or injustice. It may have once been stolen, perhaps even killed for. But now that it’s in your hands, use it wisely and well; use it for eternal purposes.”
Jesus clearly said that we can and should use money for good purposes, both for this life and the next. Human hearts can be redeemed by Christ, and in the hands of the redeemed, money can serve redemptive purposes.
But lest we forget money’s dangers, Jesus also said, “No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money” (Luke 16:13).
Once we allow money to have lordship over our lives, it becomes Money with a capital M, a god that jealously dethrones all else. Money makes a terrible master, yet it makes a good servant to those who have the right master—God.
To regard money as evil, and therefore useless for purposes of righteousness, is foolish. To regard it as good and therefore overlook its potential for spiritual disaster is equally foolish. Use it, Jesus said, but don’t serve it.
The goal, then, is not that money be put to death, but that it be trained and handled with discipline, as a lion we are seeking to tame. Money may be temporarily under our control, but we must always regard it as a wild beast, with power to turn on us and others if we drop our guard.
Money must not call the shots. We may have plenty of money to buy a new car, but we must not take our direction from Money. If we serve God, we will buy the car only if we believe he wants us to—and we must base that belief on more than preference.
Likewise, if we believe God is leading us to go to the mission field or to help a brother in need, we do not say, “There’s no money, so I can’t.” That also would be serving Money. If God is our master, all money is at his disposal. We must concern ourselves not with what Money says, but with what God says. The need for money may be a factor in our decisions, but it is never the factor. God, not Money, is sovereign. Money—whether by its presence or absence—must never rule our lives.
Money is neither a disease nor a cure. It is what it is, nothing less and nothing more. We may use it well or poorly. Either way, how we use money is always of critical importance to our spiritual lives. It has a lasting impact on two worlds—this one and the next.
Two Responses to Money and Possessions
Two equally incorrect beliefs about money are that it is always evil, or that it is always good. Both views have the advantage of all unbalanced positions—they require no discernment. Unfortunately, they also both result in excesses that undermine rather than further kingdom purposes.
Two extreme philosophies and lifestyles that stem from these two incorrect beliefs about money are asceticism and materialism. Martin Luther compared humanity to a drunkard who falls off his horse to the right, then gets back on and falls off to the left. Asceticism is falling off the horse on one side and materialism off the other.
Some, including Eugene Peterson and Dallas Willard, use “asceticism” in a positive way, linking it to spiritual disciplines, including meditation, prayer, and fasting.9 I certainly agree with their emphasis on these spiritual disciplines and believe that the Church desperately needs to revive them. What I am calling asceticism, following the term’s more popular usage, is what might be regarded as extreme, false, or dualistic asceticism.
Ascetics practice strict self-denial, depriving themselves of all but the essential basics of the material world. Often, asceticism is rooted in the concept of dualism, a philosophy championed by Plato that sees the spiritual world as good but the physical world as evil.
It’s easy to see why dualists who value spiritual things would become ascetics. By avoiding physical pleasures and conveniences, they think they’re avoiding sin. Ascetics in Church history have denied themselves nearly every possession and pleasure. St. Francis of Assisi objected to friars having books besides the Scriptures because they were unnecessary. In stark contrast, Paul valued not only the Scriptures but also his other books and asked them to be brought to him in prison (2 Timothy 4:13). Francis taught that money should be shunned as the devil himself. He and his disciples refused even to touch money. They glorified poverty and saw begging for food as a virtue, a way of earning merit with God.
Many ascetics in Church history refrained from marriage, and some who did marry abstained from sexual relations with their spouse, believing that abstinence made them more spiritual. Others, including the Church father Origen, attempting to obey Christ’s words in Matthew 5:29-30 and 19:12, emasculated themselves to avoid the evils of lust, fornication, and adultery. Some literally beat their bodies; others spent most of their lives atop towers, seeking to avoid the world’s defilements.
Scripture and Asceticism
The entire fabric of Old Testament teaching and Hebrew thought argues against dualism and asceticism, by inference and example. There are not two gods, a god of the spiritual and a god of the physical. There is one God who is God of both. The same God created the spiritual and physical worlds, and he created both for us to enjoy.
Except for one small sect, the Essenes, the Jews did not labor under the notion that the physical world was bad. On the contrary, they saw material things as gifts from God’s hand, as a Father’s loving provision for his children. They saw God as the Lord of the harvest. As his grateful children, they celebrated national feasts to recognize and rejoice in his material provision (Deuteronomy 16:15). These feasts were parties. By God’s command, a portion of the holy tithes was set aside to underwrite these celebrations (Deuteronomy 14:22-27). The Israelites worshiped, fellowshipped, and celebrated and in the process had a great deal of fun.
Similarly, the Jews understood sex as a gift from God, to be shunned outside of marriage but thoroughly enjoyed within it (Proverbs 5:18-19). In fact, much of the Song of Solomon—as inspired by God as the book of Romans—is a celebration of a married couple’s sexual pleasure. The rabbi-turned-apostle Paul not only ordered the materialistic Corinthians to avoid immorality but also commanded the ascetics in the church to stop withholding themselves from sexual relations with their spouses (1 Corinthians 7:3-5). Satan is the master of extremes. As Luther said, Satan doesn’t care which side of the horse we fall off, as long as we don’t stay in the saddle.
Scripture portrays the relationship between the material and the spiritual not as either/or but both/and. The material must not take precedence over the spiritual, but it’s nonetheless a necessary and legitimate part of our existence, intended for us to enjoy.
Tim Hansel addresses the ascetic Christian’s misreading of Scripture:
Irony of ironies, his commitment to Jesus Christ has become a prison rather than a blessing. So blinded by religious observations and reservations, he fails to see the festivity that was so central in the life of Jesus. He forgets that Jesus, despite the sad world he inhabited, was the prime host and the prime guest of the party. Jesus let himself be doused with perfume. He attended to wedding wine and wedding garments. The Bible is full of merriment. The feast outruns the fast. It is crammed with spitted kids and lambs and fatted calves, grapes, pomegranates, olives, dates, milk, and honey.10
Paul warned Timothy that there would be those who “abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons” (1 Timothy 4:1). Those responsible for these teachings are described as “hypocritical liars, whose consciences have been seared as with a hot iron” (1 Timothy 4:2). Paul issued a “wanted poster” on these theological criminals. Here’s how he describes them:
They forbid people to marry and order them to abstain from certain foods, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and who know the truth. For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer. (1 Timothy 4:3-5)
The phrase “everything God created is good” is the theological death knell for asceticism. From a biblical perspective, everything is fair game to have and to enjoy, as long as we partake thankfully and prayerfully—unless, of course, what we partake in violates God’s Word.
Eden was Paradise, and the new heavens and new earth will be an even greater paradise with much for us to enjoy (Revelation 21–22). In my novels, I attempt to give a biblically based glimpse into what heaven may be like. My nonfiction book In Light of Eternity: Perspectives on Heaven explores the tangible pleasures that Scripture either teaches directly or implies will be ours in heaven.11 In our new bodies, without sin to twist and warp us, we will enjoy God’s provisions and take full pleasure and delight in him and his gifts. The delights of heaven—including feasting together at banquets (Matthew 8:11)—are proof that the material world and physical pleasures are good, not evil.
It would be wrong to cast all ascetics in the same light. Richard Foster has shown us the other side of some of these ascetics.12 Some were godly people, deeply devoted to the Lord. St. Francis and his band were filled with the love of life. They bubbled with humor and humanity, singing merrily as they went about their simple tasks. Although some ancient ascetics were morose and regarded pleasure a sin, as some do today, others delighted all the more in what little they had. They enjoyed scraps of bread and cups of cold water as feasts.
It’s hard to know what to think of saints who retreated to the desert to meet God when so many of us today who retreat to the desert won’t go without suntan oil and golf clubs. In fact, it’s difficult for Westerners to imagine a good time without corks popping, bands playing or—in Christian circles—casseroles, punch, and cookies. But some of these followers of Christ found more joy in their simple celebrations of life than we do with all our modern conveniences and pleasures that dull our senses to delights such as fresh bread and clear, cold water.
We should be careful not to dismiss the lessons we could learn by observing the ascetics who walked before us in Church history. After all, the pursuit of materialism has surely led more people into darkness than has the practice of asceticism.
We needn’t only look back to ancient times for examples of individuals who have chosen an ascetic lifestyle. Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who died in 1997, and her order, the Missionaries of Charity, are perhaps the best-known modern examples. Through their vow of poverty, they seek to identify with the poor, homeless, diseased, and dying people to whom they minister. I have seen their work firsthand and commend them for it. The sisters, who are still at work around the world, are an example of what it means to serve.
With all the respect due Mother Teresa and her coworkers, however, their view of material things may not be entirely biblical. In a moving documentary about her life and work, Mother Teresa is shown instructing workers to downgrade a modest facility that had been donated to the mission. She directed them to remove carpets and a hot-water hookup that were already in place. There was no indication that the carpet was sold and the proceeds distributed to the poor. The point seemed only to be that because they could do without the carpet, they should do without it, even if no one else would benefit from their sacrifice.
This selfless gesture may appear to be spiritual precisely because of its selflessness. But does it really square with the biblical teaching on material things? Couldn’t the readily available hot water have been immensely helpful in caring for the many sick people in the facility? Wouldn’t the carpet have helped keep the building warm and brought some comfort to the suffering? By choosing to forgo what had already been provided, the workers either had to do without the benefits of hot water or take the time and effort to heat the water on stoves or over a wood fire. What harm was the carpet in the building? What good was it once it had been thrown out on the street?
Are all conveniences and modern amenities wrong? If carpets and hot water are to be avoided as luxuries, why do the Missionaries of Charity use medicine to care for the sick? Why did Mother Teresa ride in trucks and fly in airplanes? If technology is undesirable, why do many of the sisters in the order wear glasses? Surely they could get along without them, just as the facility could get along without hot water and carpet.
My desire is not to criticize such devotion and sacrifice, but only to point out the necessary inconsistency of asceticism. Ultimately, every form of asceticism is selective and arbitrary. The Amish, for example, who forgo electricity, nevertheless use gas engines, pulleys, wheels, and other technologies that were once as modern as electricity. Is an oil lamp more spiritual than one lit by electricity? Is either lamp less spiritual than a candle, a match, or no light at all? If pleasures are unspiritual, we can always eat a little less and get along with a little less sleep. If material things are truly bad, we would have to eat, drink, and wear nothing to avoid being tainted. Because the body itself is material, both masochism and suicide are logical conclusions of pure asceticism. Without daily compromising one’s position, a true ascetic’s lifespan would be short indeed.
The Inadequacies of Asceticism
The Reformers, including Luther, rejected asceticism as taught by the Catholic Church. The Puritans, who are often—but wrongly—viewed as ascetics, made statements such as these:
These earthly things are the good gifts of God, which no man can simply condemn, without injury to God’s disposing hand and providence, who hath ordained them for natural life.13
Riches are consistent with godliness, and the more a man hath, the more advantage he hath to do good with it, if God give him an heart to it.14
Puritan William Ames rejected the monks’ vow of poverty as “madness, a superstitious and wicked presumption, being that they sell this poverty for a work of perfection . . . which will much prevail for satisfaction and merit before God.”15
These are some perspectives we must bring to our understanding of asceticism:
Poverty is not piety. Nowhere does Scripture consider poverty inherently virtuous. Certainly, God cares for the poor—but out of his compassion, not based on their merit. It is just as erroneous to view poverty as a sign of spirituality as to view wealth that way. “The Lord sends poverty and wealth; he humbles and he exalts” (1 Samuel 2:7).
Scripture says that the ideal state is somewhere between poverty and riches: “Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’ Or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God” (Proverbs 30:8-9).
Wealth and poverty both can tempt us to sin. Richard Baxter, a seventeenth-century pastor wrote, “Poverty also hath its temptations. . . . For even the poor may be undone by the love of that wealth and plenty which they never get; and they may perish for over-loving the world, that never yet prospered in the world.”16
Spirituality is a matter of the heart, not one’s material circumstances. Someone can have few possessions yet still be a materialist at heart, just as one can be an alcoholic without a bottle in hand. Ascetics may trust in their self-denial rather than in Christ. The poor may be as proud of not having things as the rich may be of their possessions. The one who owns little may not pray at all, whereas the one with much may pray earnestly. (Common sense and experience, however, suggest that it’s more often the other way around.)
We must be careful not to stereotype sainthood and judge righteousness by outward appearances. Hearing the word saint, our minds must not be so narrow as to envision only St. Francis living in austerity. Our perspective must be broad enough to include C. S. Lewis debating an issue with colleagues as he smoked his pipe and drank his ale at Oxford’s Eagle and Child Pub, or R. G. LeTourneau daydreaming the design of his next earthmover. Saints come in many different trappings. We err when we draw too many conclusions from the trappings themselves.
Asceticism can be an attempt to win favor with God or man. It’s one thing to wish to please God but another to try to earn one’s standing before him through self-denial. The ascetic lifestyle can be a bid to impress God and others with our spirituality. Christ condemned the Pharisees for trying to impress people with their public self-denial of giving, prayer, and fasting (Matthew 6:1-18). Impure motives can drive ascetics as strongly as materialists.
Some ascetics choose to suffer in order to cope with feelings of guilt. They may feel guilty for their own sins or because others have lived in poverty while they have not. But we must realize that only suffering that is divinely ordained—and therefore purposeful—is godly, not suffering per se. God is glorified when our suffering is brought about by our faithfulness to Christ (1 Peter 2:20), not when we bring it upon ourselves by attempting to appear faithful. He is glorified by outwardly focused self-denial for the good of others, not by inwardly focused self-deprivation for our own benefit (including attempts to remove our guilt feelings). God is looking for those who are willing to become martyrs for his purposes, not those eager to be martyrs for their own purposes.
A sacramental view of suffering would put God in our debt, from which he would then bless us with salvation or save others through our suffering rather than Christ’s. However, neither suffering in general, nor poverty in particular, has any intrinsic merit or atoning power. Although Satan, the other fallen angels, and unredeemed humanity will suffer in hell for eternity, their suffering will have no atoning value. God may use our suffering to extend his grace and build our character, and in that sense purify us (Romans 5:3-4), but not to atone for our guilt.
The Roman Catholic concept of purgatory infiltrates the thinking of many Christian ascetics. But self-inflicted punishment is not only unbiblical, it is also prideful and self-righteous. What an inflated opinion of myself I must have to believe that my suffering could remove my guilt before a Holy God. Only Christ’s suffering has redemptive value. God calls me to accept the atonement, not to repeat it.
Asceticism can lead to unfair condemnation of others who choose a different lifestyle. Our standard of living can become a yardstick by which we measure others. We may see others as unspiritual if they own a house and we don’t, or if their house is bigger than ours, or if their car is newer than ours. (One man wrote me a letter condemning a friend’s choice to frequent a local coffee shop, while at the same time he saw no problem with his own decision to spend money on skiing. Neither choice is inherently wrong, and it would be equally unfair for the coffee lover to criticize the skier based solely on his personal preferences.) An ascetic’s attempts to deny the flesh often become just another way of feeding and indulging it. We are called to pursue God, not sainthood—or the appearance of sainthood.
Modern conveniences can free up time to pursue spiritual aims as well as enhance ministry. Because most of the day in Bible times was devoted to tending crops or herds, earning money, and preparing meals, some would suggest that we should shun the use of modern conveniences. But can’t a microwave oven or a dishwasher be God’s provision to free up time for prayer, hospitality, and a variety of ministries in the home, neighborhood, and church?
Do we imagine Jesus using his bare hands to cut wood, or can we assume he used the best affordable tools in his carpentry? And if our Lord were living in today’s society, wouldn’t he take advantage of the current technology in his trade? Would he abstain from using power saws, believing that handsaws are more spiritual? Would he hesitate to travel in a car any more than he did a boat? Would he avoid using a microphone even if it would allow the crowds to hear him better?
It would be disastrous if every believer dropped out of society’s mainstream and stopped making money. If everyone took a vow of poverty, who would support the Missionaries of Charity? Who would provide the medical advances that their ministries utilize, or make the glasses they wear, or build the trucks and repair the planes used to deliver their supplies? St. Francis and his band refused to touch money and often begged for food, but someone had to earn the money required to care for them. Generating income is a necessary part of life, not something unspiritual. It would be inconsistent to describe those who produce material goods as “worldly” or “secular,” while spiritualizing those who don’t produce anything but depend on those who do.
We should commend those who choose to live simply or strategically and devote the larger portion of their income to help the needy. But we shouldn’t go so far as to disdain the production of income or withdraw from “the system,” as if economics were sinful, and end up contributing to poverty rather than helping to alleviate it.
Many forms of asceticism are not conducive to evangelism. If every Christian adopted the monastic practice of retreating from society to escape material temptations, how would people in most walks of life be reached with the gospel? Mother Teresa served in the midst of a crowded city, but many ascetics withdraw from society and thereby diminish their opportunities to minister to others.
Paul makes it clear that part of our calling in this world is to rub shoulders with non-Christians, regardless of their sins and lifestyles. We must be actively involved in the lives of others, and therefore present in their world (1 Corinthians 5:9-10). As Jesus said, we must remain in the world but at the same time not be of it (John 17:15-16).
There’s much good in regularly retreating from the world. But the purpose of these times should be to draw near to God and then come back to our troubled, materialistic society and reach out to those troubled materialists for whom Christ died. We must all battle materialism. But the most difficult and rewarding battle is not to withdraw from society but to serve God faithfully within it.
Asceticism doesn’t deliver what it promises. Many people expect to find peace, purity, and holiness in an ascetic lifestyle. Yet Paul warned against the inaccurate assumptions underlying asceticism and the abuses it fosters (1 Timothy 4:1-5). He also warned that asceticism does not accomplish its purpose: “Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence” (Colossians 2:23). Union with Christ, not self-deprivation, is the foundation of holiness (Colossians 3:1-17).
History confirms that withdrawing from society doesn’t eliminate or even curb our sinful nature. According to one writer, “the monastic orders . . . did not really escape from the problem of a Christian attitude toward the handling of wealth. The members of these orders did not own property as individuals. But the orders entered at once into the field of creating and accumulating wealth. In many cases the monks in their group relationships fell into all of the sins of avarice which had formerly characterized individuals who were dominated by covetousness.”17
Our Lord lived simply, but he was not an ascetic. In fact, some people condemned Jesus for associating with gluttons and drunkards (Matthew 11:19; Luke 7:34). He not only drank wine, he made wine for a wedding celebration (John 2:1-11). He moved with equal ease among the poor, such as John the Baptist and Bartimaeus, and the wealthy, such as Mary, Martha, Lazarus, Nicodemus, Zacchaeus, and Joseph of Arimathea (Matthew 27:57-61; John 19:38-42). Jesus accepted material support from wealthy women (Luke 8:2-3), and he gratefully accepted the extravagant anointing of his body with an expensive perfume (Matthew 26:6-12; Luke 7:36-50; John 12:1-8).
Christ’s birth attracted poor shepherds and rich kings. A poor thief (on an adjacent cross) and a rich man (who donated a tomb for his burial) attended his death. His life on earth drew many—both poor and rich. And regardless of their means, he was pleased to accept into his kingdom all who would bow their knee before the Messiah.
Questions to Consider
Is it possible to learn from those who have chosen asceticism without adopting their lifestyle? Can we follow the example of the many Christians, both past and present, who have chosen a more simple and uncluttered lifestyle than our own? Would we consider giving up enough of our things to detach ourselves from the things we have, yet hold onto enough to use for our good and the good of others? Can we do what Jesus commanded us—to use money but not serve it? Can we discover what it means to invest money for eternal purposes? Is it possible to live in a materialistic culture without being tainted by materialism? These are some of the challenges and opportunities set before us as we seek to follow the clear-thinking, simple-living Galilean who was and is the Son of God.