My friend Julie just tweeted the following last night (and for those of you who don’t know, a “tweet” is a post of 140 characters or less on the microblog Twitter):  “I have too much stuff:  Stuff-itis.”  What was funny to me about her remark was that I have been feeling exactly the same way for some time now.  I have way too much stuff, and it would be good for me to get rid of most of it.  The “stuff” I need to divest myself of includes, but is not limited to, furniture, books, dvds, CDs and cassettes and even some albums, magazines (why do I keep them), many,many old files, and other assorted items that I no long need and perhaps never needed.

The need to de-clutter and simplify has been growing inside of me for several reasons.  For one thing, I may be moving this year, and the thought of packing up everything I have is not a happy one.  The less stuff I have, the less I will have to pack.  How practical of me it is to get rid of some stuff before I have to pack it into boxes and cart it to my new church and home?  Pretty darn practical, if you ask me. Right?  Right.

There is also the fear that one day my stuff will overwhelm me and I will end up like one of those folks who dies with piles of stuff surrounding him/her.  You’ve all heard stories about these human packrats.  Newspapers and books stacked everywhere.  Trash and garbage indistinguishable from what might actually be of some value.  Further, when this person dies, the family that is left behind has to go through the mess, and after a few valiant attempts to sort it, they end up hiring a crew to come in and cart it all out to dumpster anyway.  All that saving and keeping and collecting  . . . just a waste of time, energy and money.  And really, who wants their legacy to be a home filled to the gills with stuff that nobody else wants anyway?  Not me.

And then there is the theological reason (You didn’t think that I, as a pastor, could get through this post without waxing theological did you?).  As another has said (and though it is trite, it is also true):  we ought to live simply, so that others may simply live.  Why do I buy much of the stuff I actually buy?  For instance, instead of wasting money on buying a book and then putting it on a shelf to collect dust when I know, that given the huge numbers of books out there already and the many more that are forthcoming, and which I have not read, the chances of me rereading a text is infinitesimally small.  Why not borrow books from the library and use the money saved to help others simply live?  And even if I do buy a book, why not give it away when I am done with it, either to a friend or a bookstore or a library?  Why take such pride in owning a thing, whether it is a book or CD or any other object?  After all, I am not going to take it with me when I die, and it is doubtful that others will want much of my stuff when I gone either.

So, what to do?  My hope is that the next year will be for me the “Year of the Great Divestment” – a year of getting rid of much of the stuff I supposedly “own.”  I will try to find suitable homes for much of it, by giving things away to my friends or to charities, but much will also probably be thrown away.  CDs will be transferred to my computer or other storage devices, books will be sorted and most given to friends or my church’s bookstore to sell.  Clothes will be gone through and donated to Goodwill.  I will be downsizing.  And to those who do not think me capable of such, and that includes Jim and Joy, just wait and see. You will be amazed . . . or at least I hope you will be.  After all, all this stuff has taken me 47 years to accumulate, and it will be hard to part with some of it, but I will try my best.

BTW, the picture above is not from my home.  I picked it to illustrate the pack-rat phenomenon.