It’s great to have what we want, but once we have a certain amount, having more doesn’t make us happier.
Shark Tank is my favorite television show. I like to guess which products will (and won’t) get investments, and which ones have succeeded in the past. I’m always wrong. Among the products that have gone on to be hits: a fan that blows warm air under the bed sheets, a belt buckle that holds your beer, and a winter hat with a knitted beard attached to it. I never would have invested in any of these seemingly unnecessary products, but I guess that’s why I’m not a millionaire—obviously, I can’t tell a good thing when I see it.
It’s not that I don’t waste money on useless stuff, it’s just a different sort of useless stuff, like musical instruments I don’t know how to play, vintage vinyl records at the flea market, and bow ties (so many bow ties!). I’m a pro at wasting money on luxury food, too: cappuccinos at the coffee shop, cream puffs from the bakery, stinky cheese, and craft beer.
I don’t think we should feel bad about enjoying our lives or having stuff—there’s a balance to be found. The problem for me is that I begin to expect I deserve absolutely everything I want. Any purchase in the world is a click away on Ebay or Amazon. I can snack whenever I want, walk into to any number of nearby shopping malls, and watch unlimited streaming television on Netflix. Sure, I can’t buy a mega-yacht and I don’t own a vacation home in the Riviera, but compared to most people in the history of the world, I’m rolling in luxury. But I always want more.
We live in a must-have world. Even if we don’t want it, advertisers will try to convince us that we do, creating a need we didn’t even know we had. And once we have it, we often can’t live without it. The very nature of prosperity tends to be addicting. I’m old enough to remember a time before smartphones, and I’m sure I used to be very happy without one. But now? If my phone is out of commission for even a single day I spawn an alter-ego like Tyler Durden and want to start a fight club. Once we have something, it’s very difficult to have-not.
This is why the practice of self-denial is so helpful. If I feel that I can’t live without a thing, then that thing, in a way, controls me. Yes, it’s great to have what I want, and to a certain extent, purchasing power does make life so much more comfortable, but there’s a limit; once we have a certain amount, having more doesn’t make us happier.
Practicing self-denial puts life back in perspective and serves as a reminder that all of our stuff is great, but our relationships with friends, family, and God are far more important.
I’ve had my own run-ins with self-denial. For past Lents, I’ve tried (and failed) to give up meat and alcohol. Giving up meat was hard mostly because I’d forget. And giving up alcohol was surprisingly difficult. I don’t drink a lot, but there were more social situations than I remembered where a drink is served and it’s awkward to refuse. Our stuff can become a bigger part of our identity than we realize and when we choose to go without it for a period of time, it feels unsettling. Although it’s difficult, it’s also refreshing to uncover these hidden dependencies and address them.
While Catholics and other Christians make a practice of giving something up for the 40 days of Lent, self-denial isn’t just for religious people—it’s good for everyone. There’s currently a movement for Meatless Mondays. And how about those Tiny Houses? People say they like them because the small space and lack of stuff means “more time and freedom.” Denying ourselves can also help increase willpower in other areas, such as exercise and habits we want to change.
It’s not always fun or easy to deny ourselves what we want, but that’s the point. We aren’t on this earth simply to be comfortable; we’re made to flourish, to find our place in the universe, and to live lives of love and beauty. Achieving greatness takes effort and dedication, and I know that in my life I’ve never regretted the struggle. Our hearts can become cluttered with all of our stuff, but in the end, I know that I don’t want to crowd out the only must-haves that really matter—the people I love. They are worth more than all the treasures in the world.
