• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • homepage
  • the blog
Cindy DeBoer

Cindy DeBoer

  • speaking
  • the book
  • contact

Voluntary Simplicity

The Bigger Sinner

February 17, 2025 by Cindy DeBoer 2 Comments

I didn’t want to hire a maid when we lived in Morocco even though everyone else did. I thought my actions would show my Moroccan friends and neighbors how Americans can sometimes be hardworking and resourceful and that, as a Christian, it was wrong to demean Moroccans by exploiting their cheap labor (the going rate for a maid in 2007 was $10 – $12/day). I thought my friends and neighbors would be so impressed at how selfless, kind and generous I was.

I was so wrong.

Morocco offered no welfare programs, food assistance, or low-cost housing back then (it’s changed a bit in recent years). Without government assistance, per se, the country operated under the unspoken, nation-wide understanding that the “haves” must help the “have-nots.” One of the five pillars of Islam is to give alms to the poor, so culturally, this practice of assisting the poor came quite naturally for Moroccans (over 99% Muslim). One of the primary ways the “haves” helped the poor was to employ as many house staff as possible. It was very common for average families (equivalent to middle-class here in America) to have at a minimum, a maid, a chauffeur, a gardener, and a house guardian. After a dear friend explained these cultural dynamics to me, she said, “I know what you’re trying to do by not hiring a maid, Cindy. You don’t want to take advantage of the cheap labor. I’m sure you’re trying to display how selfless you are. But in reality, your friends and neighbors here will view you as selfish for not offering employment to as many of your impoverished neighbors as possible. Moroccans already view Americans as too wealthy and self-serving. You’d just be cementing those views and showing them that Christians are no different.”

I was mortified. My actions conveyed the exact opposite of my intentions. Embarrassed, we hired a maid the next day.

Our first maid lasted only a few months. Amal was a gregarious twenty-something with master-chef cooking abilities and an indefatigable work ethic. She’d sing while she cooked, danced while she cleaned, and giggled contagiously while helping our kids learn Arabic. She adored our family, and we adored her. But then we suspected she was stealing from us. Eventually, she took a wad of cash we had stashed in the back of our dresser drawer—money we didn’t need, but had hidden there “just in case…”  

Because Amal and I had only ever communicated in spotty French—a second language to both of us—I enlisted my tri-lingual Canadian neighbor to serve as Arabic translator (Amal’s first language) for our little conversation about the sin of stealing. Amal immediately melted into tears but refused to admit guilt. In a shame/honor culture (unlike our right/wrong western culture), it is more important to save face than to be honest. I told her she could keep her job if she’d just admit she had done it. She refused to confess but continued crying uncontrollably. I felt so sorry for her because I could see she was in misery. She loved our family and didn’t want to lose her job. (Americans often paid their maids more than Moroccans did).

However, before leaving, Amal gathered herself and she and my neighbor/translator had a long conversation at the door in Arabic. I understood none of it. My neighbor later explained that Amal was still not admitting guilt, but had posited that IF she had, in fact, taken the money, it would have been because, in a sense, the money belonged with her and her community, anyway, due to the fact they had great need, and we had great abundance. She said we were “too blind” to see the poverty around us and should have been convicted of our excess. She said it was sinful for us to keep so much wealth for ourselves, but she recognized we were good people who just didn’t know the right thing to do. She said people like us (every American is considered wealthy in Morocco) should be doing more for those in need and we should have at the very least, hired more house staff. She said families in her neighborhood were struggling to feed their children while we kept money tucked away for no reason.

Amal ended by saying, “If the wealthy won’t do what Allah has asked of them, the poor need to show them how to do it.”

**********

Our home and lifestyle in the little fishing/surfing village where we lived, Dar Bouazza, felt very middle-class to me. However, in a country without a middle-class, per se, we were lumped-in with the tiny sliver of society considered “wealthy” by most Moroccan standards. Dar Bouazza was surrounded by shanty towns in every direction. These neighborhoods were often a huddled mass of shoddily built cinderblock homes with corrugated metal roofs. Most “homes” lacked proper kitchens, running water, or bedrooms. Many shared a community toilet, and the families slept on froshes, the same cushions that served as their couches during the day. Sickness ran rampant. Unemployment commonplace.

This means that every day, when Amal entered our four-bedroom, three-bathroom home with running water, a stove, a refrigerator full of food (so much so, that sometimes things go bad and are tossed), two cars, computers, books and toys, and an overflowing coat and shoe rack, she struggled with the injustice of it all. She’d wash our clothes (more than truly “necessary” for a family of six) in our very own washing machine and as she hung them out on the line (we weren’t that well off… we didn’t own a dryer!) each morning, she’d watch us drive off with our kids— carrying their big lunches and big backpacks—taking them to their private school up the street to the left and think to herself, “They’re nice people, but how can they justify living like this while just up the street to the right lives my family who can’t even afford to have dinner tonight. Why won’t they help the poor more?”

(L) – Our house – the narrow white town house in the middle, adjacent to an empty lot full of garbage, mice and cockroaches who paid us regular visits. (R) Photo from Amal’s neighborhood – a five minute walk from our house.

**********

I’ve never forgotten Amal’s challenging words from the day I fired her. As the years have gone on and I’ve let them simmer and settle into my Christian worldview, I think she may have been right. I now often wonder if our sin of withholding our wealth (socking away money we weren’t “using,” purely for security’s sake) while surrounded by abject poverty there in Morocco was, perhaps, the bigger sin than her stealing from us.

The thing is, Amal’s actions broke a UNIVERSAL law no one questions regardless of what religion you ascribe to (thou shalt not steal). But the hoarding of money is perfectly “legal” worldwide. If we had reported her, she would have gone to jail, not us. It’s the thing that we, the “haves,” love to get all worked up about, isn’t it?  We love to point our fingers at the thieves (the desperate “have nots”) and essentially say, “Her! Go get her! She stole from me what is rightfully mine!”

Yet, no one ever questions if perhaps we were thieves, too.

**********

Despite what lies our current leaders are peddling, most migrants are NOT criminals (see references below) and are either asylum seekers, or people seeking work for a brighter future for their families (desiring employment enabling them to send remittances back to their home country). This is a difficult reality for us Americans to understand because we’ve never experienced that degree of desperation. But the rights of asylum seekers are protected by international law. The human right to seek refuge when fleeing danger and persecution is recognized world-wide.

Study upon study on immigration proves immigrants (both the documented and the undocumented) are far less likely to commit crimes than nationals. In fact, in cities where violent crime has been on the decline, a larger number of immigrants directly correlates to a lower crime rate! The last thing an undocumented person would want to do is draw attention to themselves. And yet, as they’ve risked everything to come to America in seeking safety and/or a chance at a better life, we, the richest nation in the world, are essentially telling them “No! Get out!” largely because “It’s the LAW, damnit!”

It’s almost as if we, America, have these “wads of cash stashed in the backs of our dresser drawers” (i.e. surplus of employment, land, space, opportunity, resources) but we get all upset when immigrants come and take any of it. Yes, of course, many have come without proper documentation (which is NOT a crime, by the way, only a civil offense)—which means they have, indeed, broken a law. So they are the ones who get in trouble and are detained and deported and we get to point our bony little condescending fingers at them and yell, “Them! Go get them! They are taking what is rightlfully mine!”

But if it’s true, that our American “dresser drawer” has “cash” stashed in the back for “just in case…”, perhaps we need to ask ourselves this:

Could it be that we are thieves, too?

Which begs the question, who’s the bigger sinner?

.

.

Glossary of terms (These are words I realized I was using incorrectly until my kids educated me):

  • Migrant: person moving from one country to another
  • Refugee: a person who has been forced to leave their country to escape war, persecution, or natural disaster and have COMPLETED a thorough screening process (which can often take years to process while they wait in refugee camps), and have been CLEARED to resettle in the US. They are 100% legal.
  • Asylum seekers: people looking to apply for asylum because of documentable dangerous conditions in their home country. Asylum seekers sometimes reside within the US borders while waiting for their case to be heard by an asylum officer of the U.S. government, and they sometimes wait outside the US border. If granted asylum, they are 100% legal residents.
  • Illegals – a derogatory term that dehumanizes immigrants, refugees and asylum seekers. The moment someone submits an asylum claim, they enter into the “system” and are “documented” with legal rights. Coming to America without proper documentation is NOT A CRIME, but an administrative infraction punishable by deportation, not incarceration.
  • Undocumented Immigrant: someone who has traveled to another country without proper documentation

References:

  • https://news.northwestern.edu/stories/2024/03/immigrants-are-significantly-less-likely-to-commit-crimes-than-the-us-born/#:~:text=%E2%80%9CA%20surprising%20finding%20was%20the,educated%20men%20in%20recent%20decades.%E2%80%9D
  • https://theconversation.com/proof-that-immigrants-fuel-the-us-economy-is-found-in-the-billions-they-send-back-home-227542#:~:text=Several%20studies%20indicate%20that%20remittances,wages%20of%20over%20$466%20billion.
  • https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/18/briefing/the-myth-of-migrant-crime.html
  • https://www.migrationpolicy.org/content/immigrants-and-crime

Filed Under: Finding truth, Immigration, Life Overseas, Morocco, Refugees, Suffering, Voluntary Simplicity Tagged With: Immigration

Leave It Broken

March 26, 2021 by Cindy DeBoer 15 Comments

When we bought our hundred-year-old crack house we discovered that somewhere in its history a previous owner made an egregious err in personal assessment and believed themselves to be “handy.” They tackled a variety of home improvement projects such as brick laying, replacing windows, updating trim and doors, installing sinks and faucets, and building closets. However, I’m almost certain my 6-year-old nephew could have done a better job.

We’ve had snow leak in through the ill-fitting windows, faucet levers that scrape the wall, crumbling brick and leaking roofs – all due to this “handypersons” handywork. We have gaping holes in our baseboards, incomplete and mismatched trim boards in every room and doors that were hacked down at the wrong angle in an attempt to accommodate unlevel floors.

Check it out:

Clockwise from top left: 1) Insulation peeking out because “handyperson” didn’t know how to cut the brick to reach the wall 2) Drywall where handyperson measured once and cut twice 3) How our “handyperson” paneled with wainscoting 4) Hard corner to tile – so “handyperson” filled it in with caulk.

I’ve seen young children make living room pillow forts and back-yard tree houses with better craftsmanship.

Initially, we figured we’d fix everything and be DONE with renovations once and for all. But as soon as the home was functional (as in, an operational kitchen, a door to the bathroom, and a place to flop a mattress) we were so exhausted from all the fixing-upping, that we simply halted the projects. We figured we’d wait a few months, restore our energy and excitement for a “completed” home, and then finish things.

That was 6 years ago.

It hasn’t been a matter of money, nor even enough time or energy. What’s held us up is this:

It’s extremely difficult to keep fixing-up your home when some neighbors are heating their home with their stove.

It’s hard to justify spending money on crown moulding and matching doorknobs (it’s not even arguable that these things are frivolous) when you pass multiple homeless people on your way to buy the materials.

It’s gut wrenching to spend about $800 on any project on our home when we’ve learned of multiple neighbors being evicted due to inability to make rent (typically around $800 in our neighborhood.)

We’ve repeatedly had the dilemma of choosing home improvements over “life improvements” of others.

So, six years later, our home is still not done.

Just because we can afford something doesn’t make it right.

**********

More importantly, in addition to the ethical battle of money stewardship, we noticed that waking up each day in a home marked by broken things, unfinished work, imperfections, and missing pieces, has helped to remind us that we live in an imperfect world, inhabited by imperfect people with imperfect lives.

The entire WORLD is broken and unfinished and only Jesus can fix this mess. So we began asking ourselves, why should our home reflect anything different?

In our former homes – both our country estate custom-built “dream home” and our downsized 70’s ranch in the burbs – everything was pretty, polished, working and stylish. We were very much in control in those homes and felt we had essentially achieved perfection. No brokenness, no problems, no worries.

In those dwellings and environments, it was much easier to forget about the pain and suffering in the world. It was easy to pretend (albeit subconsciously) that the world wasn’t broken. It was fun to live like that – without daily reminders of a suffering world. I often justified those “perfect” dwellings by asking – What’s wrong with making our homes a haven to rest from the weary world?

It seems to me that the only reason having a (near) “perfect” dwelling could be wrong is if it causes us to forget about those who are in desperate need of God’s love and care and/or if we ever forget that WE (those who believe in Jesus) are God’s plan to meet those needs (there is no plan B).

So if you, like me, love to watch HGTV and love to design, improve, and fix-up your home, maybe we should rethink things a bit.

Maybe we don’t need to fix everything to where it all looks “perfect.”

Maybe we should stop striving so much for beauty and completion.

Maybe we should let heaven be the only perfect home and accept some brokenness and imperfections in our earthly homes.

Maybe the broken things will actually help us stay tuned-in to the brokenness of our world and remind us to ask God for our role in its healing and restoration.

Maybe we should leave some things broken.

Filed Under: City Life, Contentment, Fixer-Upper, Homelessness, Simplifying Life, Uncategorized, Voluntary Simplicity

Humble Pie – What happens when our heads get too big…

October 10, 2019 by Cindy DeBoer 8 Comments

My car died a couple of months ago – on the way to work and in the middle of the highway, no less. It made me terribly late as well as the recipient of many honks and obscene gestures from all the busy and important people whose cars never break down.

But, as luck would have it, she died the day before we dropped our last child off at university. And last child has a car she won’t be using at school, so it’s not like I was carless. However…. Said car is peppered with dents, scrapes, and scars from years of inexperienced teenage drivers. Said car has a long yellow scratch where older sister nearly took out a fire hydrant. Said car has it’s bumper held on with zip-ties. Said car smells like sweaty teenagers. Said car sits so low, I have to do a power-squat to get in and out. Said car’s trunk doesn’t like to stay shut and will sometimes fly open while I’m doing 80 on the highway. Said car is covered with hip bumper stickers I don’t really understand.

You get the drift. Not exactly a car a 50-something professional likes to hop into on her way to work at the psychiatric hospital…

I’ve noticed that it’s not as if this car is simply OUR FAMILY’S dumpiest car ever – but that wherever I go – grocery store, hospital, church, restaurants – the car is always THE DUMPIEST in the entire lot! I sense extra eyes on me as I, a (hopefully and somewhat) accomplished looking middle-aged woman, climb into a beat-up, 20 yr. old coupe that screams “HIGH SCHOOL!” I keep wondering what they are thinking about me and I find myself wanting to shout to perfect strangers, “It’s not mine – it’s my teenager’s car!”

At first I found it funny and laughed it off when people looked at me slant eyed. But lately, I’ve noticed a little corner piece of my soul that’s not okay and it’s been feeling a lot like embarassment.  And that reality has been hitting me hard. Paul and I have prided ourselves in kissing materialism good-bye and it is one of the main themes of my upcoming book. Why in the world do I suddenly care about the car I’m driving?

I’m completely flummoxed by my own insecurities and ashamed that I’m dealing with something I thought I killed and buried 20 years ago.

A sermon I used to preach to the kids has been echoing in my head: You do NOT need to impress others.  You are completely who you are with or without any “embellishments.”  You are smart, beautiful, important and good – and it matters NOT what you do or don’t have.  Your true friends are those who love you for who you are deep down – not how you present yourself or how impressive you appear.  They love you just the way you are.

Ahhhhh – there, Cindy, that is the message. Who you trying to impress anyway? Who cares what other people think? The only people that matter are those that know you and love you just the way you are – no matter what kind of piece of crap car you’re driving….

So this past week I drove the crap car to work with the window down the whole way. I wanted to check my hair before getting out of the car, and when I flipped open the mirror, lo and behold, this is what I found:

Clearly, my teenage daughter had put it there for herself to serve as a powerful reminder she didn’t need to worry about appearances, but dang, I sure needed this message, too! I needed to be reminded that God loves ME more than I can fathom and that my value and worth have absolutely nothing to do with the house I live in, the clothes I wear, the college degrees I’ve earned, or the cars I drive.  God doesn’t see any of that.  He just sees me.  And He calls it beautiful.

We cannot impress our way into the kingdom – it is simply a gift. God looks at us and sees all the dents, the dings, the scratches and many hard-earned miles and doesn’t care.  He sees beyond all that and says, “You are enough. Just you. I love you just the way you are.”

Now, we could just run out and buy another car and get a new shiny impressive one – but we also have THIS saying in our house: Just because you can afford something doesn’t make it right. MAYBE, just MAYBE God wanted us to drive a crap car for a while to really contemplate our inherent worth.

Because that crap car has been a beautiful reminder of God’s goodness and mercy and that I need to do NOTHING to impress Him, we are STILL driving the crap car all over town! It reminds me that God sees my soul and calls me worthy despite my sin.

Filed Under: Contentment, Joy in the Journey, Simplifying Life, Uncategorized, Voluntary Simplicity Tagged With: #humility #simplicity #teenagers #materialism

Copyright © 2025 · Revolution Pro on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in