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Tim Burdick is father to Sierra, husband to Heather, and a bi-vocational co-pastor of McKinley Hill Friends Church in Tacoma, Washington. He is also a part-time Ph.D. student at University of Birmingham and loves to play disc golf.
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My sweet widowed grandmother lives by herself in a house with a four-car garage. She doesn’t need a four-car garage. She has only one car, and even that she really shouldn’t be driving. The remaining three bays are occupied with random stuff from garden equipment to a friend’s truck (he ran out of room at his own place). When pulling up to her house the sight is quite formidable—all you see is a wall of white panels standing guard around her charming home. Once you get past these parapets it doesn’t get better. Somewhere in the house there is a cluttered basement, several guest bedrooms with too many boxes, and a dusty attic holding the rotating supplies of seasonal decorations.
Of course, my grandmother is never going to downsize. Every time she trudges out to the hinterland areas of her home and sorts through old boxes, she gets mired down with the difficulty of letting go. Every item is a memory, connected to some part of her, and getting rid of it is like getting rid of herself. I suppose at her age she h as earned the right to protect these memories, no matter how excessive it looks, but her story is telling on how much our “things” can control and shape us.
In truth, ownership creates identity. When we buy things we are adopting a set of inherent values. Without thinking about it, those values become ingrained in who we are. The more ownership choices we make the more a prevalent pattern of overlapping principles start to appear and our sense of selfhood is formed. In the end, we risk becoming what we own.
The same can be said not just about tangible possessions, but also for those ideas and beliefs we claim to hold. Saying, “I am a Christian,” is no different in terms of identity formation than saying, “I own a single-family house in the suburbs.” Both statements are claims about possession and both come with a set of values. Both equally influence who I am.
In some ways, the whole idea of private property (intellectual, spiritual, or material) is the ultimate means people use to differentiate themselves. Saying, “I am a Christian living in a big house in the ‘burbs,” is instantly recognized by the hearer as more of a character statement than one of geography or faith. You assume things about me, both good and bad, based on that statement. In the same way I might announce, “Most of my clothes are secondhand.” Although this statement is factual, I say it because I want you to understand part of who I am in relation to my purchasing choices. Ownership is both formative and instrumental. It shapes who we are, while we use it to help influence how we are perceived. For some, the whole process becomes unhealthy and they buy into the marketing idea that you are incomplete without item X, or Y, or Z (all on sale right now). For others, like my grandmother, the psychological shaping comes from years of living in the same house with the same belongings. They slowly and unconsciously become part of us through mental and physical proximity. Whether it be a big house, a strongly held belief, or a small item of sentiment, ownership impacts our identity.
In contrast, the idea of stewardship is about what we do with possessions—intellectual, spiritual, or material. It’s different because we have none of the power that comes with legal rights of ownership, while maintaining all the responsibility. If this doesn’t sound appealing, it’s only because we are blinded by generations of free market capitalism and individualism. Ownership is sold to us as power. But with this power comes the burden of maintenance. In the end, sustaining it becomes a difficult reality to defend without slowly turning into something we resent.
Stewardship, however, is about being responsible. Again, saying, “I am a Christian,” is only a claim that helps define me. On the other hand, saying something like, “I am a steward of Christianity,” becomes an examination of how I live out my faith. If Christians are suddenly in bad repute I share the responsibility because I am a steward. I can’t escape my duty, can’t sell for a loss, and can’t try and move on. I am a caretaker.
These same dynamics work for almost every area of our lives when looking at ownership vs. stewardship. Saying something like, “I am a steward of the suburbs,” takes me away from merely being a private property owner, and makes me a participant in my neighborhood’s vitality. Saying, “I own a car,” is about status and power (regardless of the type of car we own). But saying, “I am a steward of the roadways,” suddenly makes me a responsible member in dealing with mass transit, carbon emissions, road rage, hands-free cell phones, and drive-through restaurants. Ironically, when I let go of the psychological hookups garnered through ownership, I am freed up to become a responsible custodian.
Switching our thinking from ownership to stewardship is certainly difficult. Not just because of the extra accountability it requires, but because it involves letting go of who we think we are.
But the good news in living this way is that there is great freedom in partnering with Christ in various stewardship roles. It’s a lot more fun for me to think of being a steward of the resources I have, compared to the burden of ownership and maintenance. The former is about working hard within grace and giftedness, while the latter is about the tiring efforts to protect and hold what I can, while I can, for as long as I can. If the recent turbulent economy can teach us anything, it’s that this type of futile hoarding is quite literally, crazy-making.
But what do you think? Respond below and let’s create some dialogue around the issue of “ownership” and its impact on us.
Questions for Discussion:
1) What stands out to you from this article? Any new or odd ideas? Something to “push back” on or agree heartily with?
2) Have you taken any steps to simplify your possessions? Your commitments? Your values?
3) Where have you experienced freedom in relation to this topic?
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This was her second trip this month. As you can see, there are MANY bags in the trailer we had to use since there were too many for my Suburban. She has 65 pounds here. Plus the 30 pounds she had before. That’s 95 pounds of cans, peoples!!! And, it’s a whopping $51.30 for Mexico! She actually made $57 but after her tithe, it’s the $51.30 and really, she only had quarters so decided to make it $5.75 so that left her with $51.25 for her fund. I’m so proud. It’s one thing for me to do this stuff but when my kids start doing it, on their own, it’s a big mommy moment.
Back to the query: Do I avoid waste? I say, “yes, I do.” But more importantly, would you see that in my life? I need feedback to
We appreciated the broad guidance and helpful principles Gene gave us as we were preparing an update of our wills. We had an idea how to help future Christian ministry and we wondered if it was practical and if it could be achieved. He helped us think through our options of how to share our resources both with family and organizations we want to support. He helped us with details we had not known even to ask. Rather than feeling directed to pursue anyone else’s agenda, we felt enabled. We left our session ready to take the next step with our lawyer, with the confidence we had a plan that would accomplish our goals to be faithful with our estate.
We constantly open our home to friends, and friends of friends for hospitality, sometimes with as little as two hours notice! This act can seem trivial when viewed in the wider purpose of why we are here. But we have had several people throughout the country tell us years later how sharing our home with them encouraged them at a critical time in their ministry.
Tim Engle
