Before we left for West Africa, I remember my parents measuring and weighing suitcases down to the centimeter and ounce. The limited luggage we were allowed forced my parents to simplify their needs list. And as self-supporting missionaries, that list was simplified further until luxuries like that third pair of shoes was left behind.

My family’s reliance on material things was challenged even more once we landed in Togo. For in this little coastal country, with our entire lives packed into eight suitcases, we became the wealthy ones. When neighbors entered our home that December to see our tabletop tree surrounded by gifts mailed from the U.S., I felt ashamed at having so much.

Two years later the Whitings were struck with culture shock as we landed back in New England. Our simple cotton clothing received funny looks and we witnessed American faces turning various shades of red upon entering our humble cottage. I quickly learned a shame which I am still fighting eleven years and twenty pairs of shoes later—the shame of not having enough.

Though a challenge at times, simple living becomes increasingly attractive to those who subject themselves to it. While overseas, my mom pined after many possessions that sat in our North American home. But ask her what she misses most about Togo, and she’ll tell you, “Simplicity.” Ask my dad the same question, and he’ll answer, “Jubilation.” The smiling faces of those who are content invite God to come closer.

Is there anything ungodly in stashing more than we need? The Millerite movement would suggest so. In 1831 a Massachusetts Baptist preacher named William Miller predicted Christ’s return for the year 1843. In response, thousands sold their homes to live in tents and hear the Word preached while awaiting the Second Coming.

Though the movement was ludicrous, the response was beautiful. To prepare themselves for God, people got rid of every possible material distraction.

I’m not suggesting we sell our homes to sleep under the stars—most northerners would turn to ice sculptures before January. Nor am I recommending everyone move to a foreign country.

But we are all commanded to be watching for Christ to return “at an hour when [we] do not expect him.” So God’s warning to “be ready” should not be heard as a suggestion, but rather accepted as a lifestyle. While wealth is a gift from God, closeness to Him involves a willingness to give that blessing up.

This harsh message cannot be put any plainer than the way Jesus chose when he confronted the rich young ruler in Matthew 19:21, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.”

Once they hear this, the disciples plague Jesus with their “what about us?” routine. He gives them a glimpse of their future reward for leaving everything for him: a throne for each of them to judge the 12 tribes of Israel. Talk about worth it!

Even more awesome is the promise he gives the rest of us immediately after: “And everyone who has left houses…or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much.” A hundred times! That’s a big number when you’re talking seats of honor and positions of power.

Kind of makes that shoe sale less enticing, doesn't it?"

are you ready for Christ's return?