FAQ: should I curtail grandparent gift-giving?

I know, I know…several years back you read that blog post about getting your kids four things for Christmas, and your inner minimalist shouted “YES.”

Something they want, something they need, something to wear, something to read.

Done and done. It was a formula that allowed you to simultaneously be a parent who was awesome and a parent who had more time for Elf and eggnog. You made your minimal shopping trips, wrapped your minimal gifts, and placed them under your minimalist tree, awaiting Christmas morning when your kids would gently unwrap their four treasures (“Remember, kids, Jesus only got three gifts.”) and thank you effusively for not over-indulging them like all the other parents on the block.

But then, the doorbell rang, with a tone less “Silver Bells”-ish and more like the death knell of your conservatively sugared sugarplum dreams. And Gigi and Pappaw exploded into your living room bearing half of Walmart, wrapped in packages that in no way coordinated with your brown-paper-and-twine aesthetic. Their eyes burned with the crazed expression young parents everywhere recognize as a sign of OGS - Over-indulgent Grandparent Syndrome.

The gift haul was mind-boggling. Packaging materials and crumpled paper blocked every exit. There was much squealing, but none of it seemed associated with something to read. Surveying the aftermath, you began mounting your resolve never to let this happen again. Gigi and Pappaw must be stopped.

But must they? Have they really torpedoed Christmas? Looking back on my own experience with dearly loved OGS-sufferers I can see how quick I was to point out the symptoms of their illness: extravagance, impracticality, frivolity. But I was much slower to acknowledge the symptoms of my own illness. It turns out I was actually infected with a pretty serious case of FPS – Fretful Parent Syndrome. It showed itself in three beliefs that, looking back, were absolutely off-base. I offer them for your consideration, with the benefit of a little hindsight, in case you’re thinking about dropping the hammer on the grandparents:

1.   My kids will be spoiled by this.

No, they really won’t. They may indeed look forward to Gigi and Pappaw’s visits for less than selfless reasons, but grandparents don’t typically spend enough time with grandkids to permanently impact their consumption patterns. Your children’s attitude toward material possessions will not be shaped by the way they spend one day in December. The vast majority of their formative days will be spent under your influence, not that of their grandparents or anyone else. If you teach and model delayed gratification, practicality, and others-focus twelve months out of the year, a few hours of extravagance at the hands of a grandparent will be a fun memory instead of a life-altering event.

2.   I have to control this.

No, you really don’t. Resist the urge to start placing restrictions on grandparent gift-giving. Yes, it’s true that a donation to the college fund would have been a more practical gift than a studio-quality Darth Vader costume, but grandparents see gift-giving as a way to connect with their grandkids. Because it is. Gigi and Pappaw want to give a tangible gift that will bring them to mind each time their grandchild uses it. Even if they lack a sense of moderation in the gift-giving department, they are entitled to give the gift of their choosing. If it is not dangerous, illegal, immoral, or an ongoing financial commitment on your part once it is given, you don’t need to step in. Controlling what or how much grandparents can give communicates a lack of graciousness on our part, one our children may pick up on. By placing requirements on grandparent gifts, we can inadvertently model a different, but equally ugly form of entitlement to our kids.

3.   I’ve been upstaged by this.

No, you really haven’t. This is a hard one to trust, especially when Gigi and Pappaw have outspent you by a magnitude of seven. But the grandparent relationship and the parent relationship are simply not in competition. When you refuse to let competition enter your thinking, you allow your child’s love for a grandparent to be what it should be: an extension of their love for you, not a threat to it. Your children will not compare their relationship with you to their relationship with Gigi and Pappaw any more than they would compare it to a relationship with a sibling, friend, or teacher. Don’t fall into the trap of believing you are competing for their love, on Christmas or any other day.

How can you know if you are free from the grip of Fretful Parent Syndrome this Christmas? I knew I was headed for recovery when I was able to welcome grandparent gifts without judging them, bemoaning them, or restricting them. I learned to express genuine gratitude, both in front of my kids and in thank-you notes. And I learned to relax in the knowledge that materialism is kept in check in the everyday moments that God has entrusted to parents.

Perhaps most importantly, I learned to keep in mind that grandparents themselves are a gift to our children, a vital part of the wider circle who will cheer for them through the sun and storms that lie before them. No insecurity of mine should jeopardize that relationship or dictate its terms. More than that, my willingness to defer to their gift-giving choices sets an example for my own kids that you’re never too old to look for ways to honor your parents.

Minimalist parents everywhere, I salute your desire to shepherd your kids toward simplicity. Do your best to pair it with forbearance toward silver-haired, soft-hearted spenders with whom you share a physical resemblance, a last name, or, at bare minimum, a deep love for your kids. Should you find this difficult, eggnog will help.

FAQ: should i pay an allowance for chores?

Teaching children responsibility is a primary task for parents. The question of whether or not an allowance should be paid for completing chores requires parents to consider training in two areas simultaneously: responsibility for work and responsibility for money. I don’t think that there’s necessarily one right answer to the question of whether completion of chores should be tied to monetary reward or not, but I can tell you how we handled the issue and why.

We decided not to tie allowance to chores. We set clear expectations for what the kids were responsible for (unloading the dishwasher, doing their laundry, etc) and then we held them to the list. If a chore was not completed in a timely or thorough manner, we gave another deadline along with an additional chore. The longer noncompliance occurred, the more unsavory the additional chores became. It was a pretty effective strategy that almost never went beyond about two rounds. Let’s just say no one wanted to clean the baseboards. Ever. (I just asked my youngest what his least favorite chore was, and he fired off “baseboards” before I even finished the question.)

Allowance was something we just gave. It was given in an amount appropriate to their age, increasing as they got older, and going away once they were old enough to earn money by working outside our home (babysitting, lawn-mowing). Allowance, and any other savings, was used at their discretion to purchase wants. We committed to cover their needs. If a child needed a new pair of shoes, I would spend enough to cover the need – store brand sneaks. The child could contribute the difference in price if they wanted a nicer pair. We saw allowance as an opportunity for them to learn self-control and the difference between needs and wants. But we didn’t treat it as compensation.

We did offer to pay for certain jobs that wouldn’t be categorized as everyday chores. If a child needed extra money, if the job was something we would hire someone to do, or something we didn’t have time to do ourselves, we would offer the chance to earn. Each time we had house guests, my oldest daughter cleaned the guest room to earn money for a trip she was taking. I was so sad when she met her goal because the job fell back to me again, and I have a bad attitude. I keep leaving travel brochures on her pillow.

Why We Work

At an event this week I had the privilege of meeting Pastor Tom Nelson, a man who has devoted quite a bit of time to examining the relationship between faith and work. He articulated a principle that I hadn’t been able to put words around, a framework for how the believer should think about the work he or she does. He said that work ought not to be primarily about compensation but about contribution. As those whose work is ultimately done for the glory of God, we ask, “How much can I contribute?” before we concern ourselves with “How much will I receive?” Think how differently the world would function if everyone regarded work through this lens.

This is why in our home we didn’t tie allowance (compensation) to chores (work). Instead, we explained to the kids that their contributions to the upkeep of domestic order were absolutely essential. We were not merely trying to train them to obey or to be responsible, we actually needed them to share the burden of work for our family to flourish. It was not an overstatement. The Bible study I lead requires me to be gone twenty six weeknights of the year. I also travel occasionally for speaking. Jeff and I explained to the kids that they were acting as ministry partners by keeping the house in order when I couldn’t be there. It materially lightens my load (and Jeff’s) when everyone does their part. Rather than resent their responsibilities, the kids came to see them as a source of the best kind of self-esteem: They knew their contributions were both needful and deeply valued.

And we lived happily ever after in a spotless house where no one ever complained about chores or spent money frivolously.

Okay, not exactly. But we did manage to keep the focus on contribution rather than compensation. We’re in the thick of writing college essays these days. It’s been encouraging to read my almost-adult children put into words their hopes for their future careers: “I want to make a difference teaching science.” “I want to help make green energy a viable option.” I certainly hope my kids will end up with jobs that pay a fair wage, but more than that, I hope they will end up with jobs that allow them to contribute joyfully, working as unto the Lord. To that end, we have tried to make our home a place of joyful contribution, perhaps not joyful in the moment – when the cloth is on the baseboard and the knees are bent – but joyful in the final analysis, knowing that every good effort matters. And every worker is a treasured child.

related post:

stuff, satisfaction, and the suburban child

otherness

Dear child-of-my-heart,

Today you came to me sad and I wanted to comfort you. Your friends spoke of owning things you do not own, watching movies you do not watch, going to places you do not go, and wearing things you do not wear. Even in the telling, they spoke in ways you do not speak. You were feeling very sharply your “otherness” today.

But what comfort can I give you? How can I pull the sharp thorn of comparison from your tender flesh? Mothers don’t like to see their children hurt. My own heart wants to find the shortest path to the removal of your pain, a pain that spills over on to me because I remember being thirteen. And because I know you are being singled out for boundaries you did not set.

Should I comfort you by giving you the things that separate you from the well-provided, worldly-wise woman-girls at the lunch table? Not everything you do not have right now is a “no” – some things are just a “not yet”. So I might revisit what you’re ready for, not because I want your friends to like you, but because I want to give right things at right times. Your friends would have you believe that being different is an unbearable state, but I would have you believe otherwise.

Sweet child, study the way you are feeling today. Because I love you, I ask this of you: lean into your “otherness” – learn the contours of its face, feel out the steady grip of its hand. Because I intend it to be your lifelong companion. It is a truer friend than those who surround you now. More than I want your comfort I want you to be an alien and a stranger. You are beginning to understand what that means – that not-fitting, that dissonant chord, that unease in the midst of ease that has been the faithful travel companion of the children of God for millenia. And I rejoice in the faithfulness of the God who is showing you this truth.

Here is what you must come to see: what the lunch table calls your enemy I call your friend. “Otherness” is a sensation not to be dulled or diminished but to be cultivated and cherished. So though it goes against every mothering instinct, I will not pull the thorn from your flesh, not because I want to withhold comfort, but because there is no true comfort in a lie. This world is not our home. We are sojourners, travelers on our way to the only true comfort the human heart can know. I will not help you populate your life with things that lessen your grip on this reality.

Because I love you, yes. But because I love your Heavenly Father above all else. And I will give an account to Him for whether I have raised citizens of Earth or citizens of Heaven.

I pray for you – do you know how much? – I pray for you to be able to say with David that the boundary lines have fallen for you in pleasant places. It is not a mindset that we reach with ease. But it is the mindset of someone who has learned the safety and joy of “otherness”. I am willing to give you the years you will need to learn this truth. I am trusting the Father to show you the comfort of being called His own. There is no real comfort besides this.

I could not love you more.

Love, Mom


"LORD, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." Psalm 16:5-6

santa, strategically

This morning, compost piles are riding high with pumpkins from last night’s celebration of Halloween, a holiday that in years past was treated warily by Christians but has more recently been allowed back onto the calendar by many. Why did we salvage it? I’m guessing because we recognized the sheer joy of it for our children, and that for many of us it was the only time all year we interacted meaningfully with our neighbors. Gone are the days when you could tell the house of the devout Christian on the block by the darkened windows and candy-less bowl of tracts on the porch. And I admit I’m glad.

But there’s a new holiday villain “comin’ to town”, and his name is Santa. If “good Christian parenting” of the 80’s and 90’s was marked by snubbing all things Halloween, it now appears to be marked by a wariness toward the Jolly Old Elf himself. I know this because of the frequency with which Jeff and I are asked "What did you do about Santa?" In the minds of many conscientious Christian parents, Santa now rubs shoulders with other shady characters like Harry Potter, the Tooth Fairy, and Ariel the feminist shell-wearing Disney princess. And why not target Santa for hostility? After all, (spoiler alert) he isn’t real. Sure, he’s a historical figure, but the fat-white-guy-in-the-red-suit-who-sneaks-into-homes-to-leave-presents-for-kids-who-have-earned-them-by-good-behavior is not just a myth, he’s a creepy myth. Good Christian parents don’t lie to their children, especially not about works-based, anti-gospel, diet-dodging, voyeuristic Santa. Ask anybody in the Bible Belt.

So, here’s where I confess: The Wilkins kept Santa as part of Christmas. And we loved it. Loved it, loved it, loved it. And we’d do it the same way all over again if we could.

Stay with me. I can explain.

Jeff and I walked into parenting without a plan for Santa (I guess his heretical status had not yet been firmly established in 1996). We both had fond memories of Santa from childhood. As adults, we knew there were parts of Santa we liked and parts we didn’t like, so we improvised, keeping what we liked and ditching what we didn’t. We gave him a cultural place in our family’s holiday traditions without allowing him to undermine the message of the Advent story.  So I offer for your consideration our approach to Santa, in case you, too, harbor a secret sadness at seeing the Jolly Elf vanish from the Christmas landscape.

What we did:

• We waited for Santa to show up. We didn’t start the topic – we waited until our oldest child introduced it, and then we responded as briefly as possible to questions and comments.
• We stacked the deck. Once Santa was on the radar, we told the kids “There’s a secret to Santa. If you think you have figured out the secret of Santa, come ask Mom and Dad.” For awhile, the kids would come to us thinking the secret was that Santa used the front door instead of the chimney, or that the reindeer didn’t really fly. We would respond “That’s not the secret of Santa, but keep thinking!” When they figured out that the secret was that we were Santa, they thought it was hilarious: “All this time it was YOU filling our stockings!” They knew they had not been tricked or lied to, but that their mom and dad had planned a fun surprise for them to discover.
• We limited Santa’s clout. Santa only brought stocking presents. We wanted the kids to thank Mom and Dad for the big stuff.

What we didn’t do:

• We didn’t give Santa center stage. Our Christmas tradition centered (and still centers) heavily around the nightly reading of an Advent Book that told clearly the story of the birth of Christ. It is by far the kids' most meaningful Christmas tradition at our house, and they can recite the Christmas story by heart because of it.
• We did nothing to hype Santa or perpetuate the myth – if they started to suspect, we didn’t try to throw them off the trail. No boot prints in the fireplace or reindeer footprints on the front lawn. If they asked “How can he bring presents to every child in one night?” or “How does he fit down the chimney?” we would say “Good question. That’s part of the secret of Santa.”
• We happily edited Santa to match the reality of who he is (mom and dad). When a child asked “Does Santa really not come if you’re bad?” we’d answer with “Well, what do you think about that? Does that sound like Santa?” They were more than eager to alter their view of Santa to that of a gracious giver instead of a meritorious one.

Why we’d do it all again:

You might be thinking, “Okay, so you found a way to keep Santa, but why bother? Why not just tell your children he’s not real and move on?” We had a couple of reasons for not doing this.

Matt and Mary Kate meet Mall Santa 1997

First, we supported a child’s natural right to possess a huge and wonderful imagination. Research shows that about 65 percent of all children develop imaginary friends between the ages of three and five. Most Christian parents would not put an end to an imaginary friend – they would wait for the child’s imagination to outgrow the friend. And we would not accuse those parents of lying to their child. Santa is not an imaginary friend, but he appeals to the same place in a young child’s imagination, much like a Disney princess or a character in a book. The line between reality and fantasy is blurry for little children, as is their developmental right. They outgrow their capacity for fantasy as they mature emotionally. We were willing to let that process take its natural course with Santa, remaining cautious not to do anything to reinforce or prolong the fantasy.

Second, we didn’t want to ask our four-year-old to be an apologist for an adult view of Santa. In other words, we didn’t want to send him into preschool having to conceal from (or reveal to) his friends the terrible secret that Santa was a fraud. By giving him the chance to figure out the secret of Santa on his own, we bought him some anxiety-free time with his peers in which he could share their excitement over Santa without having been deceived by a parent.  All of our four children figured out the secret of Santa by about age six. By that age, keeping the secret from peers was far more within their powers of self-control than if we had laid the burden on them from the beginning.

Parting thoughts

Rest assured Santa will be culturally imposed on your family: he will be on the radio, on the TV, and at the mall for a photo op. Whether or not he overshadows the gospel message of Advent is up to you. If that message is only talked about in your home during the Christmas season, you should definitely loathe St. Nick. But parents who impress their children with the gospel message year round have little to fear that Santa will compromise their worldview. In reality, December is only one of the twelve months in which our children are assaulted with anti-gospel, materialistic messages. We would be remiss to make Santa the December scapegoat for a negative message we have neglected to address from January to November.

Can Santa be harmful? Absolutely. Our children reported adamant Santa-belief among their peers well into the fifth grade. It takes a firm commitment to deception on the part of a parent to prolong a child’s belief in Santa to age eleven. And that’s not okay. But at the Wilkin house, we remember Santa fondly. In fact, he still fills the stockings each year. Keeping Santa on our own terms, deliberately making him an extension of ourselves as parents, a minor figure in the holiday celebration, and a clever riddle to be solved allowed us to preserve a fun childhood memory of our own and to hand it down to our children. Not surprisingly, Wilkin-Santa looks a little familiar if you take time to notice: he gives freely without asking for anything in return, and he reveals himself to those who earnestly seek him. And Someone like that will always be welcome in our home.

"stuff", satisfaction, suburbia part 3

This is part 3 of a three-part series. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here.

Picking up where I left off last week, here are a few final thoughts about guiding our children toward Godly contentment in a consumer culture…

squelch stupid comparisons
Somewhere around age 6, children become aware of the purchasing patterns of others. They begin to ask for things that their peers are wearing, playing with, or bringing in their lunchboxes. The child asks: “Can I have light-up sneakers like Lily has?” The parent hears: “Don’t you love me as much as Lily’s parents?”

It is difficult to say who wants to “fit in” more – the child or the parent. Christian parents must recognize that keeping up with the Joneses has no place in the life of the believer. We are called, rather, to live as aliens and strangers. This means our expenditures will not be targeted at fitting in.

When our son was twelve he asked for a cell phone. All his friends had one, he explained, and he felt left out because he was phoneless. We encouraged him to pay attention to that feeling of being different, to lean into it. We explained that the Christian life is marked by the tension of not-belonging, and that our spending choices would not be geared toward helping him feel accepted by others. The problem was not that he wanted a phone, but that he wanted a phone to find acceptance with his peers.

promote valid comparisons
Give your children tangible ways to learn the proper value of possessions. Rather than just talking to them about how much they have in comparison to others, show them. Sponsor a child in a third world country. Let your children contribute to his support and write him letters. Volunteer as a family at a food pantry so your children can see the faces of those who live in daily need. If possible, go on a mission trip together or send your kids on one through your church. Take a trip to the landfill or recycling plant so they can see how much we throw away. Don’t make it a guilt trip – let the evidence speak for itself.

Look for allies in Christian families of a similar income level who also spend with care. If you have like-minded friends who set similar spending limits, point your children toward their example when the charge is leveled that “we’re the only ones who don’t have x, y, or z”.

stall on them
As a general rule, try not to respond with a “yes” to a first-time request, particularly with young children. Take a “wait and see” approach. Requests made in the heat of the shopping moment rarely represent a child’s true desire to own something. Those that recur over a period of time are more likely genuine requests. Even if you can afford a purchase for your child, wait a couple of weeks. Let your child know the joy of waiting patiently and then receiving what she has waited for.

Let big purchases be “milestone purchases”. You can have an iPod when you turn 12. You can have a phone when you turn 14. Once the milestone expectation has been clearly set, all negotiations on the part of the child should cease. If they continue, simply ask the child, “When did we say that would happen?” Reward the correct answer with “You’re exactly right!” If the child persists, say “I have already answered that” and move on. Bear in mind that whatever milestone age and corresponding purchase you set will need to be repeatable for younger siblings.

understand a true “deal”
Just because something is affordable or a deal doesn’t mean it is a good purchase for your child. When we finally made the cell phone purchase for our son at what we deemed the age-appropriate time, we were faced with two options: add our son to our plan at virtually no extra cost, or let him foot the bill. We went with option 2. Matt got a pay-as-you-go phone that cost him a quarter every time he called or texted. Because he pays the bill he texts and calls very little, using his phone for needful communication instead of recreation. The price-tag is higher, but the pay-off is huge. We didn’t get a deal, but Matt learned a lesson in stewardship he would otherwise have missed. True “deals” are purchases that can teach as well as meet a need or want.

do a gut-check
Check your motive for wanting to give in to a request: is it fear or love? Fear purchases to avoid drama or rejection. Love purchases (or withholds a purchase) to bless. Fear tends to parent in the short-term (to get through the day, meal, or shopping trip). Love parents for the long-term (to get a child to functioning adulthood). Fear concerns itself with avoiding or encouraging a child’s outward behaviors. Love concerns itself with training and equipping the heart.

model well
Don’t you wish I had stopped after the previous point? A parent who sets good spending habits and philosophies for her child but fails to exercise them for herself will likely learn the hard truth about actions speaking louder than words. Our children are watching us to see if our words and our actions are consistent. And for that matter, so is our Heavenly Father. Work hard to model Godly contentment for your children. Pray hard that God would teach you yourself to desire it above all possessions. In your example lies your child’s greatest hope for finding satisfaction beyond “stuff”.

And I--in righteousness I will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness. Psalm 17:15

"stuff", satisfaction, suburbia part 2

This is part 2 of a three-part series. You can read part 1 here and part 3 here.

Whether we like it or not, our children are consumers. Parents may be slow to recognize this truth, but marketers certainly are not. The hotbed of spending potential created by suburban affluence means marketers of children’s products are placing your child in their crosshairs. Without the maturity to filter marketing messages, children take their claims as fact.

Marketers want to accomplish two things with your children:
• To awaken and amplify their desire to consume
• To blur the line between wants and needs

A child who succumbs to these two advances will begin applying pressure to mom and dad to purchase, and dismaying behavior soon follows. What parent of a small child doesn’t dread the trip to Walmart with little Ryan perched in the cart yelling “I want that!” at every end-cap? And if his pleas find traction in our sense of guilt, our fear of fit-throwing, or our desire to please him, voila, another must-have item makes its way from the shelf to the cart to the toy bin to the trash.

As Ryan grows the pleas may become more sophisticated and the scenarios less public, but the problem remains the same: enhanced desire and insatiability of wants. How can we help our children to filter marketing messages so they can pursue Godly contentment?

limit desire-enhancing sources
The Bible draws a clear connection between seeing, desiring, and taking. Help your children to minimize begging for new purchases by keeping temptation out of their line of sight. Point out to them the connection between seeing and wanting. Teach them to reject the idea that “it won’t hurt to look”. If a child consistently hounds you for a particular item, give some thought to where that desire is being fed.

• Avoid TV programming that is laced with ads aimed at children. Be aware of product placement in the shows your children watch. Play “catch the ad” – make a game out of identifying marketing messages hidden in TV shows and movies. Ask your kids why their Happy Meal toy might be a character from a new movie.
• Watch out for direct mail. Browsing catalogs and ad sections of the newspaper can take children from content to consumer in short order. Rather than asking children to circle their favorite catalog items, ditch the catalogs in the recycle bin before they can be seen.
• Make online shopping or browsing off-limits unless for a designated purchase with a parent involved.
• Avoid wandering the mall or window-shopping. Not a great idea for anyone in the family.
• When you do shop together (i.e. the dreaded Walmart outing), set a clear expectation before you enter the store that no treats or toys will be purchased, but a small reward will be given at check-out to a child who does not ask for anything.

distinguish clearly between needs and wants

To a young child, everything feels like a need. Marketers know and love this fact. As parents we must teach our children to discern between needs and wants. This will initially require saying “no” a lot. By consistently giving in to our children’s wants we reinforce their sense of need for something external to provide satisfaction. Denying their wants mercifully allows them the chance to realize that the world didn’t end just because they didn’t get their request.

Start early talking to your children about the difference between needs and wants. Help them make a list or a collage of things people need to live: food, water, shelter, clothing. Talk about how our wants play off of our needs: we want delicious food, filtered water, luxurious shelter, designer clothing. Help them appreciate the blessing of having their basic needs met by exposing them to people who are in need (more on this next week).

Once children reach an age where they have spending power of their own, enlist their earning potential in the purchasing of wants. Your approach might look something like this:

• mom and dad will fund all your physical needs for food/water/shelter/clothing
• you can fund your wants
• we can both fund “gray area” items: if you want something nicer than you need (i.e. Nike sneakers instead of store-brand), mom and dad will pay the portion for the “need” and you pay the difference for the “want”.

Make your children aware that mom and dad make choices in their spending that reflect needs and wants. On shopping trips, let your children see you pick up items, consider them, and replace them on the shelf. Explain why you have chosen not to buy or to defer a purchase until later.

And finally, every now and then bless your child by getting them something they want. Just for the sheer joy of it. In doing so you model the goodness of God, who takes great delight in the giving of good things to His children.

Up next week:
Dealing with comparisons to others
Understanding a true “deal”
Stalling tactics and milestone purchases
Checking our motives for purchasing

"stuff", satisfaction, and the suburban child

Isaiah 55:2-4 Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live.

We moved to the suburbs, like most young families, because they were affordably safe. No danger of gang violence, drive-by shootings, or (gasp) low standardized test scores at neighborhood schools. Not even the danger that our neighbor might paint his trim blue or park his F150 on the front yard. Affordable safety – what could be better?

As it turns out, our suburban neighbors - with the help of dual incomes, starting families later in life, smaller family sizes, and ample credit limits - are able to afford much more than physical safety for themselves and their children. Hence, the first-grader with the cell phone, the fourth grader with the iTouch, the seventh-grader with the $300 purse and professionally-colored hair, the sixteen-year-old with the Mustang GT. The clothes, vacations, parties, electronics and activities which surround the suburban child make our own childhoods look downright deprived, but most parents are happy to forget that stripped-down upbringing. They take satisfaction in knowing that they have given their children more than was given to them.

Ironically, the affordable safety of the suburbs turns out to be neither affordable nor safe. The price-tag for chasing our children’s material desires will be far higher than the total on our credit card statements. As Christian parents, we must think clearly about what our spending patterns teach our children. What do we risk by immersing our children in the suburban baptismal of “stuff”?

• We gamble on the future If current economic trends hold, our children can expect to live at a lower standard of living than the one in which they are being raised. Compassionate parents raise their children to be prepared for an uncertain future. Raising children who feel entitled to suburban affluence is neither compassionate nor wise. Raising children who understand that possessions are given us by God to steward prepares them for a future of plenty or of lack.

• We feed low self-esteem Researchers have identified a direct link between low self-esteem and materialism in children: the lower a child’s self-esteem, the more materialistic tendencies she will exhibit. Many parents pacify guilt over time spent away from their children by purchasing them things. But what children really need from us is not our presents but our presence. Materialism devalues relationships by placing purchases over people. When we prioritize spending time with our children we teach them to value relationships over things. We teach them their immeasurable value to us and to God, and instill in them a sense of belonging. As psychologist Kevin Leman points out, “Lasting self-esteem comes when kids learn they belong.” Making Children Mind Without Losing Yours, p.30

• We act neither alien nor strange 1 Peter 2:11-12 urges believers to live as aliens and strangers in the world (NIV).The NLT paraphrases this as “foreigners and temporary residents”. In other words, our lives should look quite different from those of our unbelieving neighbors. Materialism feeds on our desire to fit in, to be accepted, to live in comfort now. Christianity commands us to stand apart, to expect rejection, to forgo comfort now. Fundamental to our faith is the concept of delayed gratification. A temporary resident does not focus on acquisition of stuff. His home is elsewhere, and so is his treasure. He trains his children in the discipline of delaying gratification, even if it means they look and feel different from their peers. He recognizes that love withholds as often as it gives.

• We crush contentment The Bible instructs us that “godliness with contentment is great gain”. By continually giving our children more of the latest stuff we teach them not to be content, but to long constantly for what comes next. We offer them the bread of insatiability, we who are charged with holding out to them the bread of life. Rather than granting our children satisfaction, we sabotage their ability to find it at all. There will always be the next thing to desire. Through our words and our actions we must teach our children to forgo the cultural curse of insatiability for the great gain of godly contentment.

The price tag for suburban affluence, untempered by godly wisdom, is far too high for the Christian parent to pay. The danger, though not physical, is real. We must point our children toward the truth that satisfaction is found in God alone. This need not be a call to asceticism so much as a call to sober reflection: ultimately, the stuff is not the problem, our hearts are. We must think hard about the choices we make in our spending. With God’s grace we may spare our children from the poverty of a life spent chasing what will not last by pointing them toward what truly satisfies.

Psalm 90:14 Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Over the next several weeks I will be posting some thoughts on how, practically, parents can teach and model a right relationship to “stuff”. I admit our family is learning as we go, and I welcome your feedback and ideas. {Read the follow-up posts here and here}