by Nancy Sleeth
• Provide for your family, young and old. “Those who won’t care for their relatives, especially those in their own household, have denied the true faith. Such people are worse than unbelievers.” (1 Timothy 5:8)
• Give generously. “God loves a person who gives cheerfully.” (2 Corinthians 9:7)
Note the similarities of these biblical principles with the wisdom found in the Amish proverbs listed below. You may be familiar with some already.
• We live simply so others may simply live.
• Use it up, wear it out, make do, or do without.
• Take all you want, eat all you take.
• He who has no money is poor; he who has nothing but money is even poorer.
• There are no degrees of honesty.
• A man is rich in proportion to the things he can afford to leave alone.
• If you are true to your faith, there are things you give up for your faith.
• Opportunity may knock once, but temptation bangs at your door forever.
• Generosity leaves a much better taste than stinginess.
• Before we can pray “Thy Kingdom come,” we must first pray “My Kingdom go.”
The Reverend Martin Luther King takes this last Amish proverb even one step further. King considered money an equal opportunity taskmaster: it can enslave the oppressor as much as the oppressed. In a prescient sermon, “The False God of Money,” King warns us about making money the center of our lives. One of King’s fears was that people had become more concerned with “making a living than making a life.” With e-mail, text messaging, and cell phone tethers still the stuff of science fiction, MLK’s 1953 message reads like a fax to the future.
Tim Keller of Redeemer Church in Manhattan draws a similar conclusion in his book Counterfeit Gods: An idol is “anything more important to you than God, anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God, anything you seek to give you what only God can give.” Our finances can be just such an idol. The human heart takes good things—like a successful career, money in the bank, and the objects we purchase—and turns them into “ultimate things.”
The Amish are cautious about making money an ultimate thing. We, too, should be wary of any false idols that dominate our thoughts, minds, and actions.
Money Worship
The Bible is full of characters led astray by worship of the Almighty Dollar: among others, King Belshazzar at the feast, the money changers on Solomon’s Porch, and Ananias and his wife—who hid money from the apostles—come to mind.
The ultimate example of a money worshiper, however, has got to be Judas Iscariot. Why? Because he was intimate with the living, breathing Jesus. He watched him feed crowds of thousands. He saw Jesus walk on water and calm the storm. Even with his best buddy restoring sight to the blind and bringing people back from the dead, Judas succumbed to greed.
John describes the scene as follows:
Six days before the Passover celebration began, Jesus arrived in Bethany, the home of Lazarus—the man he had raised from the dead. A dinner was prepared in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, and Lazarus was among those who ate with him. Then Mary took a twelve-ounce jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard, and she anointed Jesus’ feet with it, wiping his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance.
But Judas Iscariot, the disciple who would soon betray him, said, “That perfume was worth a year’s wages. It should have been sold and the money given to the poor.” Not that he cared for the poor—he was a thief, and since he was in charge of the disciples’ money, he often stole some for himself.
(John 12:1-6)
John is clear: Judas does not sell out Jesus on impulse. His betrayal is not an aberration of character. Rather, Judas has been dipping into the till for quite some time. He is the bookkeeper, cooking the books for his own benefit. The objection he raises to the anointing is a red herring, a distraction: he’s looking for an excuse to start a fight. Judas wants to find fault with his boss to justify his own greed.
To our modern ears, it sounds like Judas got in over his head and is running scared. He knows the impending IRS audit will bring his crimes to light, and he wants to get rid of the examiner before the examiner exposes him. Accepting thirty pieces of silver for the life of the only sinless man cannot make sense until we understand this as the final, desperate act of a habitual money worshiper.
The Almost Amish Way: Save More, Spend Less
Some people are naturally less materialistic than others, while some of us really have to work at it. My son and daughter-in-law, for example, don’t have to fight the desire to want things—they simply don’t have that desire. But most of us could use a little help with the battle. Wherever you’re starting from, keep in mind that total money makeovers don’t happen overnight. First the heart changes, then the actions follow. The key is to take that first step. Below are some Almost Amish tips to help you get started.
Don’t buy things you don’t need
The Amish are frugal. They save at a higher rate than the rest of society and don’t get over their heads in debt. One of the main reasons is that they do not buy things they don’t need.
Many family homes, and family relationships, are being buried in stuff. Our closets overflow, our attics bulge, and our basements runneth over—so we rent storage units to shelter things we never use. We own five extension cords but can’t locate any of them when we need one—so we head to the hardware store and purchase another.
You probably have encountered couples who compete in spending wars: if the husband purchases golf clubs, the wife retaliates by buying $300 shoes. If little Sally gets an extravagant dollhouse that she uses twice before growing bored, then Johnny deserves a new computer game. It’s a nonstop battle in which everyone ends up the loser.
Whatever the reason, careless spending adds up. On average, Americans consume twice as much as we did fifty years ago. (We also see more advertisements in one year than the average person fifty years ago saw in a lifetime—do you think there is any connection between commercials and consumption?) But according to many accounts, including Annie Leonard’s The Story of Stuff, our national happiness peaked sometime in the 1950s. We own more, but we enjoy it less.
Without intending to, we often pass along this discontent to our children. Consider, for example, chores and allowances. The Amish expect their children to contribute to the family, so they do not pay their children for chores or give them allowances. When Clark and Emma were growing up, Matthew and I adopted a similar approach. We did not pay our kids for weeding the garden or chopping kindling, nor did we give them a weekly allowance. Between birthdays, holidays, and summer jobs, they had access to money and practiced managing it. By God’s grace, neither wanted much, and we never had to deal with temper tantrums at the toy store. They knew better than to even ask: if the item was trendy, poorly manufactured, or did not add beauty to our life, the answer was consistently “no.” Our approach was not the norm in our neighborhood, but it seems to have paid off. As young adults, both of our children are very responsible with money. They spend little and live lightly.
We have friends with young children who have a birthday tradition that I admire—an excellent on-ramp for parents who want to tone down the feelings of entitlement so many of our children seem to have. As birthdays approach, they ask their children to select three charities for relatives to give to in lieu of presents. They focus on needs that are local and tangible—neighborhood kids who get blisters because their sneakers don’t fit or children who get in trouble because they cannot afford collared shirts in the prescribed school colors. The result is children who learn to give as well as get.
I have another friend who was struggling with Christmas overload. She is a stay-at-home mom and her husband is an educator, so their budget is limited. But even if they had unlimited finances, they don’t want to fill their home with plastic-fantastic toys that get broken or forgotten a month later. So the family adopted a three-
present rule: one for fun, one for learning, and one to bring them closer to God. Getting the extended family to understand their less-is-more approach to Christmas has not been a smooth process, but each year it gets easier. In the long run, we would be doing our kids (and grandkids) a favor if we made celebrations less about toys and more about traditions.
Here’s some get-rich-slow advice: if you are just starting out, stay off the possession treadmill. Don’t be like the old lady who swallowed the fly—working more hours to pay for bigger houses with more closets and larger basements—and then renting a storage unit to hide the overflow. One day God will shine a spotlight on all of it, including the dresser in the attic you are saving for “someday” instead of allowing a needier family to be using it now.
If you already own too much stuff, start by cleaning out just one closet each weekend. If sorting through the whole basement or garage is too overwhelming, focus on a single area—tools this week, sentimental stuff next week, toys the following week, and so on. Once you clean out, follow this simple rule—give away one item for every nonperishable item you bring in. If you get really ambitious, give away two!
Stay out of debt
All this stuff costs—a lot. We are a nation of spenders, addicted to debt. Some 40 percent of American families spend more than they earn each year. About 60 percent of active credit card accounts are not paid off monthly. Among those who carry a balance, the average credit card debt is nearly $16,000 per household. The average interest rate on credit cards is currently 18.9 percent. And 25 percent of families have no reserves—no retirement account, no bank savings. When the unexpected happens—such as illness or a medical emergency—there is no cushion, and declaring bankruptcy is the result.
Medical expenses are astronomical, but it’s not just patients who are affected. According to the Association of American Medical Colleges, the average medical school student graduates with more than $155,000 in student loans—and that figure keeps rising. Even back when Matthew was in medical school, we knew classmates who were more than $300,000 in debt.
Matthew had one colleague who cared deeply about his patients but had no money sense. He made a lot of money, but spent even more. Because doctors “give up” about a decade of their lives in medical school and residency, often working eighty hours per week, they seek rewards later in life through expensive vacations and fancy toys. Between student loans and out-of-control spending habits, our doctor friend fell so deeply into debt that he had to sell his house and file for bankruptcy.
Matthew and I came to marriage from very different backgrounds, but one area we never argue about is debt: we both have zero tolerance. When Matthew graduated from medical school, we immediately began paying off his relatively modest student loans. While our friends went on vacations, we used his meager residency salary to pay down his debt. By the end of his first year of practice, the student loans were completely paid off.
A year later, we took out a mortgage to build our home. With Matthew’s prodding, we chose a fifteen-year mortgage over the usual thirty years—and then made extra payments so we could pay it off early. While we were grateful for God’s provision of an income that allowed us to do this—for some, extra payments are simply not an option—we could have chosen to do other things with that money. Instead, we chose to make paying off this debt a priority, clearing the entire balance in less than four years. We have always saved to pay for cars in cash, and though we do have credit cards, we always pay off the monthly balance in full—using them as a convenient tool rather than a source of loans.
Matthew and I have had some rich years, but we’ve shared plenty of rice-and-beans years too. No matter the size of the checking balance, the Almost Amish approach is to never pay less than the full balance on credit cards. Once you owe credit card debt, it snowballs quickly.
If you do incur debt, the important thing is to dedicate yourself to paying it off quickly, whatever your approach may be. For example, to reverse the credit card debt cycle, some financial gurus urge first paying off the card with the smallest balance, then working your way up. Others urge you to start with the credit card that charges the highest interest. The former method gives a quick psychological boost; the latter makes more mathematical sense. Which method is best? It depends on your personality and the specifics of your obligations. Any system will work if you free up every possible dollar toward paying down debt and if all members of the family doggedly stick with the plan.
Save (a lot) more
As we get out of debt, we also need to start saving—a lot more than we are now. People in China, for instance, save over 20 percent of their income. According to the OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development), Germany, France, and Spain all save around 15 percent. The savings rate in the United States is currently less than 4 percent—better than in 2005, when our savings rate dipped below zero (spending more than we were making), but still not nearly enough to provide for education, medical expenses, and retirement.
What about the Amish? While specific information is difficult to come by, one clue is the health of banks that do business with the Amish. According to a story that ran on National Public Radio after the 2008 financial meltdown, local banks that serve the Amish fared better than most. For example, at HomeTowne Heritage Bank in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the vast majority of customers are Amish—which is to say that they are savers, not spenders. They avoid expensive meals out and high-tech entertainment centers, steer clear of automobiles and gas-guzzling farm equipment, and are generally known for a frugal and simple approach to life. About the only time the Amish use credit is when they buy a farm. When many banks were imploding in 2008, HomeTowne bank had its best year yet.
One reason for the success of the Amish: they do business the old-fashioned way. Because they don’t drive cars or bank online, the loan officers come to them. They have worked with the same families for decades. They know the farmers behind the farms. They know their character. For the Amish, missing a payment would bring shame not only on themselves but on the extended family and the community as a whole.
It’s interesting to note that subprime loans, which led to so much trouble in the general market, are virtually nonexistent among the Amish. The local bank makes the loans and services them for the duration. Even if banks that deal with the Amish had wanted to, they could not have “bundled” their mortgages and resold them in the secondary money market. In order for a mortgage to be securitized, a home has to have electricity and be covered by traditional insurance. Because the Amish live literally off the grid and do not purchase homeowner’s insurance, their loans could not be sold. The primary insurance among the Amish: a commitment to help one another.
Give generously
When Matthew and I first married, he was just starting college and my job paid $15,000 per year. Even in those frugal times, we followed a general rule of thirds: spend a third, save a third, and give a third to Uncle Sam, friends in need, or charity.
Thirty years later, we still generally adhere to our “rule of thirds.” Because we are in a higher tax bracket, Uncle Sam takes a bigger bite out of our giving portion, so each January, I figure out how much Matthew and I expect to earn in the coming year and I deposit a lump sum of money in a separate giving account. For us, it works best to make the full deposit in the beginning of the year, but I know others who set aside their giving-account money monthly or quarterly. While a far cry from the “sell everything and give it to the poor” advice that Jesus offers to the rich young man, setting aside the money up front has made our giving more joyful.
Each of us has things that come easily to us on our faith journey. Forgiveness, for example, comes easily for me, but generosity is harder. The dark side of frugality, of course, is stinginess—an area where I seek God’s help. It seems natural to Matthew to give the shirt off his back. I have seen him do it, literally.
Matthew loves to write checks from the giving account, but he does not stop there. If somethin
g is not bolted down in our house, he considers it fair game. Books, stereos, clothes, furniture, food—I never know what will be here today and given away tomorrow. Throughout the week, I see him reaching into his pocket and handing whatever cash he has to whomever. While I have to admit that his generosity can be disconcerting at times, I have grown not only to tolerate it but to encourage it. My husband is the most generous person I know, and even after three decades of marriage, I have much to learn from his example.
I know a young woman who recently completed a doctoral degree in philanthropic studies. She bought the textbooks and went to classes and everything! The best book on the subject, however, is more than two millennia old. Scripture is replete with guidance on giving. Here’s the SparkNotes version: God owns everything. We are his appointed managers. Because God is so generous in sharing everything he owns with us, we should share with others, especially those in need.
Jesus talks a lot about money, and he gives many specific principles to follow. His overarching intent is clear: going to church, attending Bible study, and doing our quiet times are all for naught if we do not care for the widows and orphans among us. When Jesus rebukes the Pharisees, he is reminding us, today, that our praise songs mean nothing if we fail to care for the poor. As the apostle James says, faith without works is dead. Generous acts flow from a grateful heart.
Although the Bible includes scores of passages about money, I find the most compelling reminders in the parable of the ten lepers. The story begins with Jesus heading toward Jerusalem. A group of lepers call out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
[Jesus] looked at them and said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed of their leprosy.
One of them, when he saw that he was healed, came back to Jesus, shouting, “Praise God!” He fell to the ground at Jesus’ feet, thanking him for what he had done. This man was a Samaritan.
