A Goodwill Emissary

The Indianapolis Star called the other day. They had a great special for the daily paper going on, would I be interested?

No, I’m sorry, I said. We are not interested in receiving the paper right now.

But how about the Sunday paper for this exceptional rate? (As if I didn’t already know what I wanted.) And you’ll receive all of the wonderful ads and coupons saving you hundreds of dollars!

I’m sorry, I said, but we don’t want the ads and coupons.

What, um, really? May I ask why?

Well, the ads and coupons make us buy more things that we don’t need. When I see that Target has a special on, say, activewear, I then proceed to think that I simply must take advantage of this special offer. And we suburbanites are committed to looking active for trips to the mall. This is the same reason we buy SUV’s in a land with no hills or mountains and little amounts of snow. Anyway, I wind up planning an extra trip to the store and buying something I really don’t need, thereby wasting my time and money. Same goes for coupons. How much Rice-a-Roni can one eat?

Pause.

That’s a very original excuse not to buy the paper.

And that was the beginning of my rebellion against the material invasion in my life so prevalent in suburbia. I simply learned to say no. No, I don’t want to purchase $100 worth of merchandise today in order to receive a $20 coupon two months from now. No, I don’t want to throw two more items in the cart to make sure that the tally hits $50 before I get my free gift. No, I don’t want to order $25 worth of merchandise to receive free shipping. No, I don’t want the little purse containing all that make-up for only $75.00. No, I don’t want to sign up for your preferred customer program in order to get coupons in the mail. Even at the Christian bookstore! (That’s a story for another time.)

No, no, no, no, no!

There are pressures around us every day. And they are invasive. These pressures, in the form of television ads, telemarketers, coupons in the mailbox, store specials, credit card deals, you name it, want us to spend our hard earned money, telling us that we’d be happy if we only had that pair of shoes on sale for only $69.99 plus another 10% off if we use our special shopper coupon on Thursday or Friday (not only is the way we spend our money dictated, but when?). And if shoes don’t make us happy, the pressures say, then maybe a beverage fountain or a new toaster or a duvet set will. What about fluffy towels, modern lamps, tableware? Cars? Flat screen TVs? You don’t know what you’re missing until we tell you, the pressures say.

I, for one, am tired of being bombarded by messages that I did not ask to receive. Messages that think they know what I need and want better than I do. Messages that tell me that my life is crap because I don’t have an espresso maker or a waffle iron.

I am no longer listening. I am no longer interested in what I am supposedly missing. I choose ignorance. And I choose to escape the bombardment of pressures by saying no, turning off the television, and throwing anything away that even closely resembles junk mail. And if I “forget” to throw away a catalog, my husband does it for me. But recently, I have chosen to take my rebellion of all material pressures one step further.

I now shop at Goodwill. Almost exclusively.

Who knows, you may not think anything of this. But I tell you, in one of the richest suburbs of the country, taking such action seems almost subversive and would certainly be an interesting ice breaker among women beautifully clad in boutique labels and J.Crew, if I decided to socialize more often. (Oh, I love your skirt. Where did you find that?) Oops, actually, I am clad in J. Crew, too. J. Crew by way of Goodwill. Ha ha.

Besides the provision of potential long and uncomfortable silences in female social circles, Goodwill offers me refuge, a safe haven from the materialistic messages and pressures of other retailers trying to tell me that my life is lacking unless I purchase their shiny, brand spanking new product. For some reason, I am not stressed when I shop there. In fact, I go to unwind. Because I leave there feeling energized. Relaxed (can you be both?). And I have found that there are many advantages, besides the obvious price tag, to shopping at Goodwill that keep me coming back. The advantages are as follows:

1. I do not need to remember to bring a coupon in order to pay a lower price. This is very important for something as spaced out as me.

2. I do not need to spend a certain amount of money in order to receive benefits, i.e., the amount of money spent is not predetermined when I walk in the door. And, I only buy what I need.

3. The store absolutely does not care about what I want or need and lets me decide that myself. I think it’s safe to assume that Goodwill has not spent millions of dollars researching its market.

4. Along those lines, the style I purchase is also not predetermined by the current trends determined by the designers determined by the marketers determined by the company determined by…If I want to wear stirrup pants, I can, gosh darn it! I saw some the other day…

5. There are no advertisements for the latest special leading me to plan an extra trip to the store. I go when I have time and interest, simple as that.

6. There are no pesky salespeople who benefit via commissions from my impulse buys. The only voice I will ever hear is the friendly Goodwill spokesperson saying “If you see something unsafe in our store, please notify an assistant. Shopping is only fun until someone gets hurt.”

7. By purchasing second hand products, I am not contributing to the need for more sweatshops somewhere in Asia.

8. Because I always pay low prices at Goodwill, I can save enough money to purchase Fair Trade and organic products.

9. Shopping at Goodwill supports local employment.

10. My purchases carry more value for me, because I know they are not easily replaced.

11. I actually give my purchases value, rather than my purchases determining mine.

Wow, I was only shooting for ten advantages. And numbers seven through eleven are actually pretty deep.

But I must admit, that the last one is a kicker.

I was at church a couple of weeks ago listening to Chris Jarvis, the pastor of outreach, talk in his sermon about how, when we are stripped away of everything in our lives we feel gives us significance, we find our core. And when we find our core, we come to some kind of point of origin where we can be with God and He can name our true selves and give us the significance that we so desire in our lives. It’’s like standing naked, in front of God, with nothing attached to us to give us meaning or value other than the sheer fact that it is God and only God who can speak to our core being and tell us that we are loved. And good. And valuable. And worthy. Just because He knows us and tells us who we are in Him. Without the J. Crew. Without the espresso maker. Without the flat screen television. Just us. (I’m not sure this happens in suburbia to often. I should know.)

And it is when we find the “just us” and the value God places in us that we no longer need the trinkets that we felt gave us significance and value before. Chris said that we get so caught up in who we are in Him that we give everything around us significance and value, and not the other way around.

Hm.

And I thought, Maybe that’s why I like to shop at Goodwill.

I’m sure that seems like an odd thought to have during a church service. But I realized that, at Goodwill, I determine the value of the articles I’m buying. I walk in, already justified to the world through God’s love for me, see a brown J. Crew t-shirt and go, “That’s awesome.” And, poof, just because I like it, it has value. Same goes for the yellow and orange plaid sheets I bought the other day. Poof! I like them and that’s all that matters.

And, in contrast to other merchants, no one at Goodwill tries to tell me that I’d be happier with a waffle iron, or worse that I’d be a better person for the tasty waffles I would make my children as well. I realized that other merchants try to convince me; in their sales pitches and their deals, that I would be a great mom, a good mom, a valuable mom made worthy only by the $149 it would take to purchase a state-of-the-art waffler. A waffler would make me significant, they say. Because my kids would love me and my husband would be proud and the universe would be at peace with my value and meaning found in a newfound ability to make actual waffles. Even maybe blueberry ones. Sourdough. Chocolate? Pay really close attention next time you are watching television and see any commercial aimed at mothers. You’ll see how we are portrayed. Smart moms buy Jiff. Or something like that. (Does Jiff taste good on waffles? I could kill two birds with one stone.) Really, in the end, it’s not just about trying to make us happy, but significant, worthy, and valuable.

I feel exploited, really. Companies are trying to make a profit by taking advantage of my need for meaning and significance in my life. And this is what I’m rebelling. This is why I’m saying no to the materialistic pressures and messages in my life and their claim on my identity and worth. This is why I don’t subscribe to the Indianapolis Star Sunday paper for the coupons and ads. This is why I shop at Goodwill.

Because I want only God to tell me who I am and that I am significant, worthy, and valuable.

And, thankfully, no one at Goodwill does that.