Let’s keep this short. (Because a long post about minimalism seems out of place.) KonMari can’t sustain joy. No form of minimalism can.
The Long Con of KonMari
For the uninitiated, KonMari is the eponymously-named method of minimalism created by bestselling author and TV personality Marie Kondō. Thanks to her new Netflix show, Kondō is wildly popular right now, and chances are you needed no introduction.
But minimalism isn’t new. At least, not by Internet standards. Kondō’s bestseller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,came out nearly five years ago. And hers is far from the only book of its kind.[1]
Despite some minor differences, books about minimalism share a commitment to living with less in the hope of getting more of out life. In the words of leaders within the movement, “Minimalism is a tool to rid yourself of life’s excess in favor of focusing on what’s important—so you can find happiness, fulfillment, and freedom.”
Sounds good. But wait, there’s more!
Descriptions of minimalism sound remarkably religious. It is said to be “life-changing,” the source of “joy,” the secret to a “meaningful life,” and the key to “finding the life you want”—and that’s just what the titles alone claim minimalism can do for you. Buried within the books themselves are even bolder promises, like Kondō’s assertion that minimalism is “the magic that creates a vibrant and happy life” (The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, 127).
A Spark of Truth (But Only a Spark)
Minimalists are onto something. Every trend, in some small way, highlights a human yearning for something more. In this case, minimalists have seized upon the crisis of our times, where people’s homes are full but their hearts are empty. It surveys our abundance of possessions and rightly says, “This stuff isn’t making you happy.” But then it veers sharply off course, out of the frying pan and into the fire, as my grandmother would say.
There are ditches on both sides of the road, it turns out: relying on an abundance of stuff to make you happy is a bad idea, but blaming an abundance of stuff for your unhappiness is equally foolish. In God’s economy abundance is a sign of blessing, after all (Deuteronomy 28:12; Proverbs 3:9-10; John 10:10; Ephesians 3:20; James 1:17). In fact, the New World that God is making will be filled with so many good things that some minimalists wouldn’t feel at home there (Revelation 21:26).
Thus it is that materialism and minimalism, though they seem to be opposites on the surface, are both misguided quests for self-discovery and self-expression connected either to the quantity or the quality of the things you possess.
But what if ‘things’ aren’t the problem and never have been? And what if the real problem, ironically, isn’t that we need to have less but more?
Our problem, then, isn’t the quest for more out of life. Our problem is that we look in the wrong places.
The Hunger for More
We are created beings, made by God for God. This is why Augustine said, “You stir man to take pleasure in praising You, because You have made us for Yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.”[2]
Because we were made for fellowship with the God of infinite pleasure (Psalm 16:11), Isaiah’s rebuke carries deep significance for us. “Your iniquities have separated you from your God,” the prophet warns (Isaiah 59:2). Sin separates us from the Source of all true and lasting joy.
But sin doesn’t stop us from seeking joy. In fact, to be a joy-seeker is part of what it means to be human. So we will never stop our restless searching until we find the greater pleasure of knowing God and enjoying him forever, as the Westminster Catechism rightly summarizes.
Our problem, then, isn’t the quest for more out of life. Our problem is that we look in the wrong places—to materialism or to minimalism, to more or to less. Yet in both cases we are hoping that creation will satisfy what only the Creator can supply (Romans 1:25).
This is a lesson that we all need to learn repeatedly. We must learn to receive God’s gifts (not reject them, as minimalism would have us do), without rejoicing in the gifts above the Giver (as materialism would have us do).
For God’s Sake, Clean Your House
“But what if KonMari helps me!”
Look, if you have much more than you need, giving away some of the abundance in your life is not a good idea from Marie Kondō; it’s a command from God (1 Timothy 6:17-19). And if KonMari helps you clean your house, then set aside her Shinto spirituality and join the long line of God’s people who have plundered the pagans for valuable tools and insights (Exodus 12:35-36).
But don’t get swept up in the insanity of the moment. Minimalism, even at its best, seems like a misguided hope that less will equal more. But at its worst, minimalism is just the latest version of self-discovery and self-expression.
As an alternative, God invites you to
something better: a life centered on him, laid down in love for others. And
that life will never fail to yield an abundance of joy no matter how many—or
how few—possessions you have.
[1] See also Minimalism: Live a Meaningful Life by Ryan Nicodemus and Joshua Millburn, and The Joy of Less by Francine Jay, and The More of Less: Finding the Life You Want Under Everything You Own by Joshua Becker, and The Little Book of Hygge by Meik Wiking, and new titles on the same topic that release almost monthly.
[2] Augustine, Confessions, Book 1, trans. Henry Chadwick (Oxford University Press, 1991).
Comments and Pingbacks
2019-01-31 08:35:32
Owen
Doug, What a fascinating phenomenon this new(-ish) trend of minimalism is. Thank you for packaging it in such a convenient introduction. I had never heard of Marie KondÅ or her TV show. I was the âuninitiated.â But I admit that Iâm intrigued. Iâm not entirely convinced by your critique, though your point about a âspark of truthâ existing in this movement rings true to me. You wrote, âMinimalists are onto something. Every trend, in some small way, highlights a human yearning for something more.â I completely agree. And I definitely agree with you that that âsomething moreâ is God. I also agree that âthings are not the problem.â As has become something of a perpetual mantra in American Christianity, the created order is good, not evil. I do wonder, however, if Marie KondÅ would not generally agree. After reading the article you linked in your post, it seems that KondÅ would prescribe getting rid of your stuff only if your stuff is causing anxiety in your life. Her advice seems to be more about contentment, inner peace and orderliness than about downsizing as an intrinsically-effective soul medicine. She is quoted in that article as speaking about books: âItâs not so much what I personally think about books. The question you should be asking is what you think about books. If the image of someone getting rid of books or having only a few books makes you angry, that should tell you how passionate you are about books, whatâs clearly so important in your life. If that riles you up, that tells you something...â Based on this statement, it doesnât seem that KondÅ thinks a lack of stuff is inherently good. It seems the issue she opposes is what the Apostles and the Fathers called the passions. And if this is the case, perhaps the rising trend of minimalism is a âspark of truthâ which points to the fuller fire, the truth of the ancient Christian practice of asceticism as both the remedy for the passions and the path to virtue. This would, in my estimation, actually make minimalism a good thing, though only in a minimal, âspark of truthâ kind of way. I was taken aback by your statement, âIn Godâs economy abundance is a sign of blessing.â In context, you seem to be speaking about material blessings (âstuffâ), but the texts you cite move from promises of material blessing (in the OT) to those of spiritual blessing (in the NT). A clear counterexample to your statement is the first Beatitude: âBlessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heavenâ (Matt 5:3). Christ could have said little more countercultural: the materially impoverished are actually quite fortunate. And it fits snugly with his statement elsewhere: âItâs hard for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heavenâ (Matt 19:23). I guess my point is that, while it is possible for the materially wealthy to be saved, itâs much more difficult. Jesus knew that a life of material luxury tends to make the human soul sickly. Thus, we need to exercise ourselves unto virtue via self-denial (a basic description of an ascetic lifestyle) so that our heavenward vision is as clear as possible. If minimalism is a âshadowâ of this sort of ascetic lifestyle, then we ought to welcome its useful aspects, to clean not only our houses but also our hearts. In a real sense, life in Christ just is the exercised, hard-won training and reorientation of the desires and will to the image of Christ by grace. And central to this process of salvation is all-manner of fasting from earthly goods. Do you think perhaps that KondÅâs minimalism is a (very pale) reflection of this reality?
2019-01-31 13:10:47
Doug Ponder
Owen, Hello (again). I see that you're still grinding the asceticism axe ;) Unfortunately, you caught me on what will prove to be one of my busiest weeks of 2019. I don't have time for a fuller response myself, so let me point to you this article (https://www.cardus.ca/comment/article/minimalism-and-monasticism/) and to the many places in the Bible, like Deut 28:12, which clearly attribute abundance to blessing. While life does not *consist in* an abundance of possessions (making the desire for said abundance dangerously wrong), an abundance, simpliciter, is uniformly praised throughout Scripture. It takes a certain slant to screen this out, and (as I have said before), I remain convinced that this is one of the greatest blindspots of the ascetic tradition. Sorry that I couldn't respond more fully, but I hope you'll find that article from Cardus enjoyable, especially since it shows why Kondo & Co don't "spark" the kind of joy that the Christ-centered ascetic tradition aims for. Blessings, Doug
2019-01-31 11:41:56
J. Michael Palmer
I agree with Doug Ponder here. And the above critique underestimates the self serving part of us that at its core is not moving towards God. I was aware of this as a movement etc. but had not attached a name to it. Thanks for the insight from this article.
2019-01-31 13:35:56
Owen
Hello J. Michael Palmer. Could you explain a little bit more what you mean? I'd like to understand better, because the ascetic approach I sketched above is actually intended to kill the "self serving part of us" - to put the ego to death - through various forms of self denial. Thanks.
2019-01-31 15:24:33
Owen
Doug, Thanks for the response, especially in the midst of your busyness. The Lord grant you strength to bear the fatigue of the week with all that it shall bring. I enjoyed the article very much! Thank you. Just to clarify, I have nothing against âabundanceâ in the abstract. It seems that what you call a âslantâ is simply a distinction I make between spiritual and material blessings. Scripture presents the former as unambiguously desirable while remaining somewhat ambivalent about the latter. Indeed, the ascetic tradition pursues abundance with a zealous desire - the rich abundance of the divine life. The article you linked demonstrates this well. Material abundance is a good thing, *when approached with a pure heart*; but spiritual abundance is always better, since it is the very foundation of a purified heart. Since most of us lack that perfectly pure heart, however, we need ascetic practices to help us, by Godâs grace, not to divide our loyalties between the two kinds of abundance.
2019-05-13 10:36:48
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