Saturday, May 31, 1997

Happiness begins and ends with God, not credit cards

By Lauren R. Stanley / Knight-Ridder/Tribune News Service

ALEXANDRIA, Va. - In the morning mail came two offers for new credit cards. Both offered low interest rates, no annual fees, transfer of balances, etc. I tore up the letters and threw them out.

Then the phone rang. It was a credit card company calling, offering me their latest platinum version of the card. I pointed out that I had just received their gold version, and indeed had yet to receive a bill, so wasn't it premature to offer the platinum card? Thanks, but no thanks, I said.

A few hours later, the phone rang again. It was another credit card company. They've already sent me the material for a gold card, the person said, with all these great benefits. If I would just sign the paper work ...

I didn't have the heart to admit that their offer had arrived in the morning mail, and already was consigned to the trash bin.

Thanks, but no thanks, I said.

And now I'm stuck wondering: What in the world am I supposed to DO with all this credit? BUY my happiness?

The morning caller had offered a credit line from $5,000 to $100,000. What in the WORLD would I do with a credit line of $100,000? Now granted, I've just graduated from school, don't start work for another month, and don't have a regular paycheck right now. So I know I wouldn't get that much credit. But then again, these people are making outrageous offers. And they don't know very much about me, do they?

The answer is, probably not. One of the callers said my name had "popped up randomly on the computer list." (Great, so I'm a "random name" now.) Which means the folks who offer credit cards are gambling that I'll be a good, honest person who pays my bills and won't scam them.

And I'm still stuck wondering: What in the world am I supposed to DO with all this credit?

I want to be honest: I have several credit cards. Even though I've been a full-time student for three years, I retained several accounts, because I wanted to maintain my credit standing. And I do use the cards: for airline tickets, for the occasional meal out, for car repairs. But I also have to admit, I don't use the cards often. In fact, I have some that I haven't used in years. They simply sit in my wallet, or on my desk, or in my drawer. They don't cost me anything, and they're there if I need them.

I figured out that in theory, at least, I have a credit line worth tens of thousands of dollars. Sitting on my desk or in my drawer. Unused.

And I seem to be perfectly happy.

So why, pray tell, would I want any more cards?

OK, I did take that new card recently, because it was tied to my alma mater and came with the usual fringe benefits of the day. But other than feelings of soft-heartedness toward my alma mater, why, I keep asking, would I want any more cards? Isn't my credit line sufficient? I already can buy more than I ever wanted, and after three years in school, believe me, my needs have lessened. So why the offers?

I think it's because, as an average American, I'm supposed to believe that I can find happiness in money - or in spending money. According to statistics, I'm supposed to have a short attention span and an acute need for instant gratification. Credit cards can supply the latter, I suppose, if the former is short enough.

But somehow, none of this rings true for me. I don't find my fulfillment in credit cards or in spending money on things I really don't want, much less need. That, I suppose, makes me somewhat different from the average American.

And really, isn't that what Christians are called to be? Different from the rest of the world? Jesus said we are to be IN this world but not OF it, an instruction I admit can be difficult to understand sometimes. But when I listen to the command - to be IN this world, because God created me to live here, but not OF it, because God is calling me, as a Christian, to be something different - I can understand why all these calls and letters about credit cards seem so silly. If I were to be both IN and OF this world, I would take all the credit cards I could handle, and maybe more, and I would try to buy my happiness with them. But since I try to be IN but not necessarily OF this world, credit cards really don't matter. So they can gather all the dust they want, and I'm still happy.

Credit cards can't buy me happiness, nor can they provide fulfillment. They are nothing but convenient parts of the economy, without which I can live quite happily, thank you.

Because, you see, my happiness isn't found in money. My happiness begins and ends with God. And God doesn't issue credit cards with low interest rates, no annual fees and balance transfer options.

God offers happiness, and fulfillment, and eternal life. The things you don't need credit cards to buy.

(Lauren R. Stanley, a former assistant news editor for the Knight-Ridder/Tribune News Service, has just graduated from Virginia Theological Seminary in Alexandria, Va., and will be ordained an Episcopal deacon in June. Readers may write to Stanley care of Knight-Ridder/Tribune News Service, 790 National Press Building, Washington, D.C., 20045.)

(c) 1997, Knight-Ridder/Tribune News Service. Distributed by Knight-Ridder/Tribune Information Services.