Lessons from an aspiring Minimalist

I have a bi-annual tradition that focuses on a clearing of the clutter. This is a time where I literally go through every drawer and shelf in my home and office spaces with the goal to move out what is no longer serving me. In the churches I have served, I often utilized the time before Christmas to clear my office and at least one closet or underutilized classroom space. I had a habit of storing an accumulation of Sunday bulletins throughout the year in corners of my office, and discovered Sunday School teachers and small group leaders had a similar habit of keeping curriculum utilizing the same method. I will admit, my propensity of clearing the clutter did at times invite criticism for not seeking the appropriate forms of approval – both in my own home and in my workspaces – but I always felt a weight lifted after the fact!

The reality is, there is something both freeing and confronting about walking into a minimalist mindset and space. The surfaces are clear. The shelves are intentional. The room seems to breathe. Unfortunately, there seems to be a misunderstanding of what minimalism is  – minimalism it is not about owning nothing rather, it is about asking honest questions: What do I actually need? What is serving my life? What am I carrying that no longer carries meaning?

Over the past several years, conversations around minimalism have grown in popularity through books, documentaries, and the influence of figures like Marie Kondo. Her now well-known Kondo Method invites people to hold each item they own and ask whether it sparks joy. While the phrase became easy to parody in popular culture, there was something deeply spiritual underneath the practice. It required attentiveness, reflection, and permission to release what no longer aligns with one’s values or purpose.

Yet we live in a culture built on the opposite message.

Advertising often operates from a deficit mindset. We are told we are incomplete without the next purchase, the upgraded device, the better wardrobe (or more functioning robe!), the trendier office décor, or the newest ministry program. Entire industries thrive on convincing us that what we already have — or who we already are — is not enough. Deficit advertising quietly trains us to believe that fulfillment is always one purchase away. 

And eventually, the accumulation becomes visible, overwhelming, and unsustainable.

Stuff gathers in our homes, offices, and church closets. Boxes of unused curriculum. Cabinets filled with forgotten supplies. Storage rooms and garages overflowing with items we are “saving just in case.” Closets packed with things that once served a purpose but now simply occupy space. Sometimes our clutter is not merely physical – it reflects emotional attachment, anxiety about scarcity, or difficulty letting go of seasons that have ended.

Minimalism invites a different posture. It asks us to become intentional stewards rather than anxious accumulators. It reminds us that simplicity is not deprivation. In fact, simplicity can create room for deeper abundance — abundance of peace, clarity, generosity, and presence.

Faith communities especially can struggle with this tension. Churches often inherit decades of materials, traditions, and objects that carry memory and meaning (I know many of you are nodding feverously at this point!). There is beauty in honoring history. But there is also wisdom in discerning whether we are preserving ministry or merely preserving stuff. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is clear space for what is next.

The lesson from a minimalist is not that every room should look empty or perfectly curated. The lesson is that our lives become lighter when our possessions align with our values rather than our anxieties.

Perhaps the deeper question is not simply, Does this spark joy? but rather, Does this create space for life, connection, and purpose? Sometimes renewal begins not with acquiring more, but with the sacred courage to let go.

As we find ourselves entering into the days of summer, I want to personally encourage you to ask yourselves these same questions. I challenge you to clear out a closet, repurpose a few items, donate, and recycle. You just might find yourselves a little lighter in the process.

Blessings to you on this journey