I’ve already laid bare the inner tensions—the tug-of-war between gratitude and guilt, simplicity and stewardship, contentment and creative hunger. That tension, that lived-in honesty from part one, isn’t just mental noise. It’s the landscape of a soul trying to walk uprightly before God while navigating real-world desires, gifts, and limitations.
But once the dust settles, I’m left with this: I don’t just want to feel good about where I stand. I want to be right before God. Biblically right. And after wrestling with Scripture—carefully, deeply, and reverently—I believe I am.
Let’s trace why.
The Shape of the Gospel: More Than Just Survival
There’s something holy about a life that’s not only saved—but lived. When Jesus said, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly,” He wasn’t offering a minimalist existence with just enough breath to get by. He was describing a kind of life that reflects His character—full, generous, fruitful.
In part one, I talked about being able to buy four new tires, not because I want to show off, but because I want to take care of what I’ve been entrusted with. That’s not worldliness. That’s stewardship. That’s maturity. And Scripture bears this out.
Even Paul—who learned contentment in both lack and abundance—didn’t equate minimalism with virtue. He honored provision as a gift of God, not a threat to godliness.
Enjoyment Without Idolatry
Let’s be honest: the church hasn’t always handled enjoyment well. Sometimes we treat joy like it needs a permission slip from suffering. But 1 Timothy 6:17 says plainly that God “giveth us richly all things to enjoy.” That doesn’t mean mindless indulgence. It means thankful, mindful celebration of what He’s given.
I enjoy music, design, storytelling, and the feeling of a body growing stronger—not to draw glory to myself, but because these things pull my gaze upward. They turn me into a worshipper with my hands, my voice, my craft.
That’s not vanity. That’s alignment.
Why Motive Matters More Than Minimalism
Part one made it clear: I’m not chasing wealth. I’m not trying to outshine the humble. I’m trying to be faithful with what’s in my hands. That’s the heartbeat of biblical excellence. The Parable of the Talents didn’t honor the servant who played it safe. It honored the one who invested what he had, multiplied it, and returned it to the Master.
So the core issue isn’t what we pursue—it’s why.
Do I want to glorify God in my health? Then my discipline isn’t about vanity—it’s about strength for service.
Do I want to grow in art, music, and storytelling? Then my creativity isn’t self-expression—it’s sacred expression.
As I said before, I want to shine—not to build my platform, but to reflect His.
The Necessity of the Heart Check
Still, here’s where the brakes are important. None of this works without periodic heart checks. If I’m not examining my motives—if I’m not willing to let the Spirit redirect me when ambition morphs into pride—then abundance can absolutely become a snare.
But when I look at my mindset honestly, I see no throne being built for myself. I see a desire to live out my calling with joy, strength, and creative power—not to impress, but to inspire. Not to hoard, but to give. Not to rise above others, but to lift them.
If anything, this pursuit helps me stay focused. It calls out the laziness that hides behind false humility. It exposes the fear that masquerades as spiritual simplicity. It urges me to stop playing small when God has equipped me for more.
A Life That Points Beyond Itself
The difference between selfish ambition and God-glorifying excellence is subtle, but it’s there—and it’s real. One is centered on the self. The other radiates outward.
When people see my life—when they hear the music, read the stories, or witness the care I give to my health and my household—I want them to feel something weighty. Not envy. Not admiration. But something that says, “That’s different. That feels alive. That points to something—or Someone—greater.”
That’s the point.
I’m not ashamed of wanting to live well. I’m not ashamed of wanting to do well. Because when the heart is right, those things don’t compete with the gospel—they reflect it.
I’ve searched the Scriptures, tested the spirit behind my desires, and asked hard questions of myself. And now, I stand where grace and clarity meet.
I know why I do what I do. And I know Who I do it for.
To Him be glory. Always.
