Crushed Clothes in a Crowded Closet

My clothes closet is jammed with clothes accumulated over decades. There is an Austrian dirndl I bought in Vienna with my sister, shortened to a miniskirt length. A Mexican blouse from Olvera Street in LA, bought with Don the first time he came to Long Beach. A skirt with autumnal colours given me by my mum-in-law. A dress and trousers my sister made me (and she has been home with Jesus now for over 30 years). A Pendleton jacket my mother grew out of and handed on, and a paisley print jumpsuit with 60s neon colours she sewed for me in 1971. A USC sweatshirt of my Dad’s. The bridesmaids dress I wore to my sister’s wedding, and my own yellowing, spotting wedding dress. And much more of the same.

Clothes with tags of love. I may never wear most of them, but how do I give them to a charity shop?

Then there are other things in there. Clothes I once thought looked good, and which still look fine on a hangar but have lost their allure when I put them on. Clothes that are usually too warm-weathery for this climate. Clothes that are well and truly out of style. Big shoulders. Wide legs, or narrow legs. Clothes I still like. How do I give them away?

I was sitting in a talk at the Cherish conference last week, listening to an amazing, moving talk by Lisa Harper, when I suddenly had this random thought about my crowded closet, and how most things that come out of it look crushed.

During my lifetime I have gathered many memories of my short-comings, my sins, shaming me, making me stuff them into the closet of my soul. But they are still there, secreted away, largely forgotten but nonetheless cluttering my being, stifling my breath and honestly, crushing me.

Get rid of them, God says. Throw them all away. Give them to me and I’ll throw them away. I’ve forgotten about them and so should you.

Jesus came to bring us life to the full, where we can live in freedom and not be haunted by past mistakes and poor choices, by things we’ve done and things that were done to us.

I don’t know if I’m ready to be brutal with my physical clothes closet, but with the internal one – yes. Every time I hear that condemning whisper reminding me of something I could have done better, something I shouldn’t have said, something I shouldn’t have done, I’m going to yank it out and throw it away for good.

And breathe in the reviving breath of God.