Are we missing out on something?

I've recently been asking a lot of questions, stuck wondering about how the world is now and how it was created. I have been stuck staring gapingly at the way our culture functions, feeling like we are somehow missing something profound about how life is supposed to be. Life in the ancient world compared to life now in our modern Western culture could not be more drastically different. Our work, our money, our food, our time, our relationships, are they different? Or the same? I can't pinpoint it; I can't quite wrap my mind around even the questions that are sufacing. I don't have theological conviction, Scripture, or prayer to base my skepticism off of. I am fearful of becoming cynical and discontent, but I can't shake these questions.

I don't know what's planting these queries in my mind, or why they have been so recently present.

Is it because of all the questions of "calling" and my "future" that are uprooted during Missions Conference and general questions about "what's next"? 

Is it because of the recent stress upon money and corporate greed through these Occupy Wall Street protests leaking their way around the world? 

Is it because I glance around my room, unsure of where all this stuff came from, and what the point of having it is?

I need someone to shed some light for me. 

I walk down Michigan Ave once in a while, dumbfounded about how people can justify spending hundreds of dollars on a purse just because of its symbol stamped neatly on a gold-plated strap.

I buy stuff. Stuff that I don't need. I don't need so much clothing, such fancy hair product, the nicest pens, cute little plastic storage containers, a computer, a phone, an ipod, so many shoes. Actually, as I am sitting here, glancing around my room, I am struggling to come up with things I don't need. I seem to be able to justify. "Well, yah, I do need Starbucks coffee, a lot of mugs, movies, my guitar." Still, I'm struggling. How much should I have? It is only temporary anyway. I have so much. I spend so much. Do I really need a computer? Well, I have one. Do I really need a phone? Well, I have one. Do I really need 5 pairs of jeans (even if I only really wear 3)? Well, I have them. I want to compare myself to the women on those TV shows spending $30,000 on a wedding dress, or the fashion industry that millions of dollars float around. I'd like to pat myself on the back for not being so flippant with money, so obsessed with having. But I can't. I don't think I can say no to not having what I have. 

Everything is so easily accessible. To have friends, it takes two seconds to log online and write a surfacey comment on a friend's wall, and can so easily ignore others. I can buy clothing in ten minutes. I can call, email,  call a different phone, text, and skype, my family at any moment. If I can't get a hold of them within 30 minutes, I get worried. I can buy a whole meal that I can make that is ready in 3.5 minutes. I can have a list of the populations of all of the largest American cities in 15 seconds. I don't know what the meaning of hard work is. I don't know what investing, sowing, laboring, and waiting looks like. I know this is what our culture is, but I worry I am missing out on something.

Should I know what it's like to plant crops, take care of them, watch them grow, sow their crop, and work hard to create these crops into a meal literally from scratch? Should I know how to make fabric, how to hand make clothing? Should I know how to live on the mere necessities, without having so much stuff to distract me? How important is simplicity? Should we really have all of this stuff? Should life be as easy as we try to make it? Is there something profound about knowing the Lord through his creation, through his work, through living only on the bare necessities?

Are we missing out on something profound by the abundance of available resources? Are relationships pushed to the back burner because of our skill of being distracted by anything and everything? Is there something that the little house on the prairie had that we really have no understanding of? Why do we all nearly run to our cars to avoid having to interact with the real world? Why do we stand waiting for the train with our headphones in, on our phones, eager to avoid the people who really may be profoundly as lonely as we are?

I am kind of embarrassed by these questions. I imagine people might kind of think they are futile thoughts, and I am just fighting for something foolish. This may be a meaningless struggle. But, why is this conviction so adamantly pounding itself into my thoughts?

I think most of these questions are founded on my questions about where to place my money in the future.
Is it important to buy only fair-trade coffee? Is it important to buy food that is chemical and hormone free? Is it important to live simply on the bare necessities? Should I own technology or is it something that drags me unknowingly away from the God who knows me?  Does God care about these things or is it a matter of freedom in Christ?

May God grant me grace in my eager, yet feeble attempts to live a life of simplicity, honoring and glorifying to him in the small choices I make. May he give me wisdom to live in the tension of knowledge and ignorance, intentionality and freedom. May my life truly be worship in my in his sight, through my life.