Letting Go Is Hard (Hebrews 12:1-2)

I sit among boxes piling a bit higher each day as I pack my life up once again. I say again, but in the grander scheme of things I haven’t moved that often in my 33 years of married life, and since the kids were born, I have only moved three times until now. We will be renting for a while until we can find a place to land, so I am purging things much more robustly than I have ever done with any other move. Sorting through 33 years (plus some things I had before marrying) has been utterly distracting, difficult to accomplish, and slow to finish. Homes need things, and things need a home, but I am finding I have held on to far too much over the years. Letting go is hard.

Stuff. 

Too much stuff. Merriam-Webster defines stuff as “materials, supplies, or equipment used in various activities: such as personal property.” By this definition, we own what we need to DO something. I have done much the last five years while I have not been in the classroom daily. Pottery was the first thing that I tried, and then I added quilting, and then I added a photography business; somewhere in there I began baking bread, and now I am taking exercise classes 4-5 times each week. While I realize now that I was a bit bored (I do love to learn new things), I did not choose hobbies that require little paraphernalia in order to participate. My pottery equipment has been moved across the street to my neighbor’s little studio for the time being. My fabric (most of it that won’t see use this summer) will be distributed among friends or moved to storage. My photography business props will be donated to a friend for use although my camera and lenses will stay close at hand. My bread-baking equipment will be reduced to the minimum, some going into storage and other things going with me. I am hoping I will be able to continue working out several times a week, and all that I need for that is my clothing. Then there are the books (yup, still have all my teaching supplies that I have every intention of using again one day soon hopefully), the photos, the music and piano and flutes and, and, and . . .

All that to say, stuff can be useful. Stuff can be good when there is a purpose for it, when it helps me make connections and DO something with them, while it is being used for God’s glory. But sometimes there is a time to reduce, to give away, to be free of the things that can weigh us down, encumber us. Hebrews 12:1-2 makes this very clear:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with 

perseverance the race marked out for us,fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and 

perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, 

and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

I am in a season of throwing off, and I want to own just what I need, nothing extra, or at least I am getting to that point. It has been a journey of letting go—sometimes holding of because of insecurity, sometimes simply holding on to things too long, sometimes of learning something new and evaluating it as less important in the grander scheme of my life, sometimes of leaving room to grow and learn other things that are not yet in my life. It has been a journey that has taught and is teaching me and will continue to teach me that I should own the stuff, but the stuff really shouldn’t own me. It has been a journey that is teaching me over and over and over again that God is good, faithful, kind, loving, generous, compassionate, merciful, and giving, while still being fully holy, righteous, and offended by any sin in my life that I am clinging to, sin that would distract me from His purpose and His blessing.

Holding on to things fearfully, holding on to things tearfully, holding on to anything but God joyfully and thankfully, well, that is where I do not want to be ever again. It has been a process, and I will go ahead and say it will continue to be a process because I am a forgetful, sinful woman and unfortunately often have to repeat many lessons on the way to victory. But I WANT to learn it well this time. I want to be so full of Him that I don’t miss anything He chooses to remove from my life for whatever reason He has that I can’t yet see. I don’t want to be encumbered by the things of this life. I don’t want to love the world and cease to be His friend. I don’t want a mixture of this life and the one to come—I want to be sold out for His kingdom and have my eyes fixed on the prize to come, the true prize of being with Him forever.

This past year has held many lessons, most of them showing me how merciful God is to love me in spite of the sin that should have kept me far removed from Him but for Christ in me. I am learning not to worship anything but Him. Gasp! I hear your intake of breath at this admission. I don’t want to worship food, dwell on it constantly, let it control my life. I don’t want to worship money or a job or a hobby or prestige or fame or notoriety or friends or fitness or, or, or . . . 

As I told a friend this morning, isn’t God good to reveal only ONE thing at a time to us about our own hearts? Imagine if I had to deal with everything at once instead of becoming more and more like Him over time, becoming sanctified as I walk through this life towards Him. 

Eyes fixed on Jesus, I can continue to weed out what needs to go. Eyes fixed on Him, I can continue to grow. Eyes fixed on Him, I can. Eyes fixed on Him. Eyes fixed . . .