Friends,

Since my wife’s cancer diagnosis, our house has been filled with extra clutter. Historically, clutter has been an issue that my wife and I have a habit of aggressively resolving. You might think our clutter issue is due to the vulnerable nature our of circumstance, and that housework is simply not getting done. The case is actually quite the opposite. When she began her treatment, the troops were mustered, and we have more help than we have ever had at our home. Nearly every day there is someone at our home to lend an extra hand with childcare and cleaning the home. This extra help is an outward and visible sign of the love our family, friends and thoughtful neighbors have for us, and so is the clutter.

Clutter and messiness can be a sign of apathy and decay, but without it, life would not be possible, and in the best of cases, it can be a sign of abundant love. In our particular case, the clutter is comprised of empty flower vases from unexpected and encouraging deliveries, and empty Tupperware containers from those who have fed us during this hard time. This morning, my wife and I had an exchange as I was leaving for the office. She called me back to the house so I could bring a large bag of these sacred vessels to church where they could make their way back to their owners. I was struck by my extreme privilege of having to haul this load back to Church. The extra clutter that needs to be hauled back to Church seems to be omnipresent, and it is a persistent sign of the support we have received from you, so thank you.

I have worked in some very old and very fancy Churches, and old and fancy Churches inevitably have a room dedicated to looking perfect. These Churches will have plenty of other dynamic places where ministry can happen, but the parlor, study, or whatnot will always be reserved for looking just right. The books will remain on the shelves, coffee cups are forbidden from resting on the tables, and rearranging the furniture requires vestry approval. The reason these rooms exist can be good and holy things. It’s good to showcase the special things from the Church’s past, or to have a space that is “just so” for those who crave things like that, but it should not be confused for the Church. The Church must exist in the dynamic space of those who occupy her buildings, and this is innately messy. The Church must always be ready to host meals even though that means the kitchen will need cleaning, or to receive flowers for services, even though that will require preparation and clean up. If the Church is called to expand ministries for grief support, or children’s ministries, then it must be poised to enthusiastically embrace the unexpected messiness that follows new ministry.

Church buildings and homes are important, but all of this can be true for our souls as well. I am guilty of the temptation to make my soul look like those perfect parlors in old fancy Churches that are always put together and never askew. I often want my soul to be filled with meaning, beauty, and above all else, order. This is simply not contusive to growth or life in general. I seem to be programmed to work toward that ends, but it’s always when my soul is filled with half-finished tasks, tons of questions and mountains of clutter that I am surprised by something new.

If your house, Church, or soul is crowded with things that have been disused for too long, don’t be afraid to toss that clutter to the curb, but do not confuse life with chaos. Never bemoan the flower vases or Tupperware containers in your kitchen, and expect evidence of messes left behind by children, because if your living room looked like those perfect parlors, then it wouldn’t be for living.

Blessings,

Nick