One of my best friends is an attorney in Houston. Before his legal career, he took a seminary degree at Union Seminary in New York City. Consequently, we have had many stimulating conversations about theology, life and golf (which is also one of our shared habits).
My friend is an avid reader, devouring books in record speed. Over the years he had collected quite an eclectic library, one ranging from classic novels to history to philosophy to various forms of non-fiction to theology. I loved roaming through his collection, more often than not discovering new authors and subjects.
One day my friend called and told me that he was paring down his library and wanted me to have any books I so desired. I was befuddled but journeyed over to his house to see what he was doing. He had sectioned off his library into two sections – the smaller one which contained only about a hundred books or so, and the other literally hundreds of books. He pointed me to the larger section and said, “Have at it. Take what you want.”
Overcoming the urge to dig in and gather some of these treasures, I turned and said, “What gives?” He looked at me quizzically, “What do you mean?” “I mean, why are you giving all of these away.” He smiled and said, “I think it is what you might describe as good stewardship. A month or so ago I decided it was not right for me to have so many books that others might be using. After all, I don’t think I’ll ever read most of these again. They will just sit here in my study, gather dust and be a prideful temptation to think that I am a well-read man.” I looked at him in slack-jawed wonder. He went on, “So, I happened on a plan that I think is a good discipline for me. I am going to limit my library to one hundred books, and every time I buy a new book, I have to give one of those one hundred away.”
As an addicted bibliophile I must have looked shocked. He said, “Now, I know that in some professions you need to keep a lot of books around for resource material. Take, for instance, you preachers. You have to keep the books around for proper footnoting, acknowledgement and documentation. I don’t need that. So, I have reduced my library in hopes of giving some of these other books a new home and hopefully a new life.
Over the years I often ask how he is doing with his library. He always smiles and says, “I buy a lot of paperbacks that I read and just leave in conspicuous places.” As of late, he has informed me that God has looked down on him and blessed him with the invention of the Kindle. I laughed out loud at that remark, but remain impressed with his model of stewardship.
Making a move has brought my friend to mind. In the midst of all the boxes of things and treasures that I have collected over the years, I have come to the conclusion that a lot of these things just sit around and gather dust. They need new life. They need a new home. So, still with a bit of reluctance, I have made a box or two of things that I am giving away.
I’m not sure why, but in the midst of this a quote from Hammarsjold came to mind: “For all that has been – thanks; to all that shall be – yes!” This spiritual discipline of downsizing does have about it that rare combination of thanksgiving and hope. I recommend it to you. It is one I learned from a good, good friend.
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