I recently finished reading “Spark Joy,” Marie Kondo’s illustrated follow-up to the wildly popular “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.” (There’s also a Netflix show about the so-called KonMari method, if you want the reality TV version.)
I don’t really subscribe to Kondo’s process — the idea of piling all of my clothes, or books, or anything, in a room and then sorting through the pile gives me the vapors. But I do like many of her principles, and have applied them to my own home management. A small example: If we receive a gift that isn’t really “us,” or that we know we can’t use, we shouldn’t feel obligated to keep it around, whether out of affection for the giver or in the vain hope of liking it more in the future. Instead, if it delighted us upon opening it, then it has served its purpose as a gift, and we can let it go right away, blessing it to find a new home. (I’m a big fan of “buy nothing” groups for this purpose.)
And of course, the guiding principle for KonMari is to consider whether each item in our home sparks joy. Kondo invites us to hold the item in our hands and listen to our bodies and our intuitions as much as our minds. Even utilitarian items can be held to this standard of joy, as we consider the many things made possible with, say, a beloved pair of scissors or a well-worn stockpot.
My first book, written back in 2012, dealt with Sabbath-keeping, with trying to take seriously an ancient practice of rest and renewal in the midst of busy lives. It was really a book about time itself — learning to live with intention as we invite God to “teach us to count our days.” I wonder what it would be like to KonMari our calendars as much as our stuff: to consider each potential commitment in turn, to turn it over in our hearts and minds, and determine whether it brings a legitimate sense of joy. If the event sparks obligation or guilt, or an empty sense of traditionalism, maybe we can bless it and let it go.
What it would it look like for churches to KonMari their ministry offerings? Many of us have had the soul-sucking experience of maintaining a long-standing program way past its sell-by date. “It’s what we’ve always done,” we reason. (How could we possibly have a church without a Sunday school? A handbell choir? A printed newsletter?)
What would it mean to look at our work together and discern whether it truly sparks joy? Or to use more theological language: Does it draw us closer to God in a meaningful way?
I see a couple of challenges to applying the KonMari process in this way — we might consider these asterisks to the “spark joy” standard. The first is that what sparks joy for you may not spark joy for me, making it a complicated conversation to have in community. One suggestion is to privilege the views of people closest to the ministry, as opposed to onlookers. Maybe it sparks joy for the retired folks in the congregation to watch the little children put on an adorable Christmas pageant each year, but if it’s stressful and joyless for the parents and the kids, that’s important feedback.
The second challenge is that not every aspect of ministry is an unadulterated pleasure. Jesus did not say, “Take up your cross, but only if it sparks joy.” Perhaps we might pair the joy question with an honest assessment of whether our work furthers the reign of God.
I’ve long loved Howard Thurman’s luminous quote: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Fruitful, faithful ministry sparks joy, not only for ourselves, but for the world God loves.
MaryAnn McKibben Dana is a writer, pastor, speaker and coach living in Virginia. She is author of “Sabbath in the Suburbs” and “God, Improv, and the Art of Living.”
