It hit me somewhere between stirring lentils and setting the table: my apartment had become a visual representation of my inner life. Every surface held a story, every corner a decision I hadn’t made. When my small group arrived for dinner and Bible study, I smiled through the slight chaos, pots bubbling, candles flickering, laughter echoing, and thought, this is real life. But later, when the last guest left and the silence settled in, I noticed it: the overwhelm beneath the warmth.
The truth is, clutter doesn’t just fill rooms, it fills the mind. And as Isaiah once said, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” (Isaiah 43:18–19). God can’t do a new thing in a space (or a soul) that’s already overflowing.
The Hidden Weight of Things
There was a moment during cleanup when a small pest darted across the floor. Embarrassing? Yes. But it also felt like divine symbolism. I had spent days trying to hide the visible signs of neglect, both in my home and in my heart. It wasn’t the pest that bothered me, it was what it represented: all the things I’d been too busy to face.
Sometimes we keep too much because letting go feels like loss. But as Jesus reminded us, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21). Holding on to what no longer serves us, objects, memories, expectations, only anchors us to what we’ve already outgrown. The clutter outside mirrors the noise within. And that’s when I realized: I wasn’t just rearranging furniture; I was rearranging faith.
Decluttering as Spiritual Practice
The process of cleaning, sorting, and releasing can feel holy in its own right. There’s something deeply spiritual about asking, “Do I still need this?” not just to objects, but to patterns, people, and beliefs that no longer fit who God is shaping me to be.
“Your home should rise up to meet you,” Oprah Winfrey once said. I looked around and thought, mine’s been slouching under the weight of too many yesterdays. As I began putting things in boxes, I whispered small prayers over each one. Let this go. Let that stay. The act of deciding became its own form of worship. It wasn’t just tidying; it was testifying.
And maybe Alexander Pope was right when he said, “Order is Heaven’s first law.” If so, perhaps decluttering is simply aligning myself with Heaven’s rhythm, creating room for joy to breathe again.
Soul Insights
1. Clutter reveals attachment, not abundance.
We often equate a full home with a full life, but excess can actually mask fear—fear of scarcity, change, or loneliness. Each item we cling to is a tiny security blanket against uncertainty. But in reality, God’s provision isn’t stored in objects; it’s renewed daily, like manna. Releasing things is a quiet declaration of faith that new blessings are always on their way.
2. Hospitality isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence.
I worried about everything being just right for my guests, the meal, the atmosphere, the timing. But when laughter filled the room, I realized no one noticed the imperfections. True hospitality isn’t performance; it’s communion. As Romans 12:13 says, “Practice hospitality.” Not perfection, not polish, just practice.
3. Shame dissolves in light.
When I tried to hide the mess, stress multiplied. But the moment I acknowledged it, peace returned. God’s love doesn’t flinch at our disarray; it gently illuminates it so healing can begin. Light, both physical and spiritual, reveals what’s ready to be made new. It’s not judgment, it’s invitation.
4. Letting go is a sacred exchange.
Every drawer I emptied felt like exhaling. The items I released weren’t just things—they were versions of me I no longer needed. Jesus spoke of pruning so that new fruit could grow (John 15:2). The pruning process hurts because it demands surrender, but it also promises renewal.
5. God meets us in our rearranging.
Somewhere between sweeping the floor and wiping the counters, I felt Him there. Not condemning the clutter, but communing through it. When I make space in my environment, I make space for His presence. He doesn’t need a perfect home, just an open one.
Final Thoughts
That night, after everyone left, I sat with a mug of tea and Psalm 51:10 echoed in my mind: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” My apartment may never be magazine-perfect, but I’m learning that God’s renewal begins in small, ordinary ways, like organizing a drawer, cooking for friends, or choosing peace over performance.
Letting go isn’t loss; it’s alignment. It’s God whispering, Make room. I’m doing something new here.
Your Turn
This week, find one small space, your kitchen counter, your inbox, or your inner life, and clear it out with intention. As you do, pray, “God, create space for Your new thing in me.” Release one thing that no longer reflects who you’re becoming, and celebrate the freedom that follows.
© 2025 Amelie Chambord
Soul Path Insights 
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