Following the advice of the invaluable PeaceBang at Beauty Tips for Ministers ("Because you're in the public eye and God knows you need to look good"), on Sunday afternoon I did a ruthless purge of my closet. I mean, Stalinist. With Goodwill standing in for the Gulag.
What was very hard about it was actually throwing away clothes. In the actual trash, don't you know. There was something in me that resisted even though they were stained or torn or unusable. "Surely someone could use this," part of me thought. Then another part sternly said, "No. These things have served their time. They need to be thrown out."
Another difficult thing for me were the Perfectly Good Clothes that I simply didn't like. "These are Perfectly Good Clothes," part of me thought. And another part sternly said, "You don't like them. That's a good enough reason for them to go." So they went in the Goodwill bag.
In all, I got rid of two full trashbags of clothes: one for the actual trash, and one that went to Goodwill. And you know what I had left after that? All of the clothes I actually wear! It was amazing! I was so afraid that if I got rid of all of this stuff I wouldn't have anything left, and what do you know? Everything I had left was the stuff I like to wear, that makes me feel good, and that looks good on me.
This feels like a sermon illustration that hasn't quite found a place yet. Or maybe it's a personal illustration for me. Something to do with what I truly believe and all the old worn out beliefs I keep in the closet, just in case. More to ponder.