Some people have a hard time getting rid of stuff. If that's you

In the words of Joyce Meyer, “Some people have a hard time getting rid of stuff. If that's you, pray for God to give you the courage to get rid of things you don't really need or things He wants you to give away. This will help keep your surroundings organized and clutter-free,” there lies a truth deeper than the surface of material things. Though she speaks of possessions, her message reaches into the very soul — for the clutter she warns against is not only of the home, but of the heart. It is the burden of holding too tightly to what no longer serves us: old fears, false comforts, fading memories, and the weight of things that were never meant to define us. To let go, she says, requires not indifference, but courage — the holy strength to trust that what is lost will be replaced by what is better, and that peace follows only when the hands are open.

The origin of this quote flows from Meyer’s lifelong ministry of spiritual and personal renewal. She has often taught that faith is not only about prayer and doctrine but about daily living — about how the external world mirrors the state of the inner one. A disordered home, she reminds her listeners, can reflect a disordered spirit; a heart filled with fear and attachment will inevitably overflow into chaos around it. Thus, when she speaks of releasing “things you don’t really need,” she calls us to a sacred act — to cleanse both space and soul. For organization, in her wisdom, is not merely about neatness, but about alignment: the proper harmony between what we have, what we need, and what we give.

From the dawn of time, the wise have known this law. The Stoics of ancient Greece taught that the path to freedom lay not in abundance but in detachment. The Buddha, too, proclaimed that suffering arises from attachment, from the grasping of what must one day fade. And in the scriptures of Israel, the people were commanded to leave portions of their harvest for the poor, lest wealth rot in greed and hearts grow hard with hoarding. Even Christ Himself, in His travels, carried almost nothing, teaching that the kingdom of heaven is entered not by those who cling, but by those who let go. Joyce Meyer’s words are thus part of an ancient river of wisdom — that simplicity is strength, and generosity is the true measure of the soul.

Consider the story of Francis of Assisi, a man born into wealth and privilege. Surrounded by gold, fine cloth, and luxury, he felt only emptiness within. One day, he heard a call — to leave behind his riches, to serve the poor, and to walk barefoot upon the earth. His father raged and disowned him, yet Francis stood firm. Stripped of everything, he discovered freedom beyond price. His courage to release what others worshiped became the seed of a movement that endures to this day. He proved by his life that clutter of the spirit — greed, pride, possession — must be shed before the soul can rise.

So too, Meyer calls upon us to find that courage. For it is not easy to give away what we have attached our worth to. We build shrines to our possessions, to our past, even to our pain, fearing that without them we will lose ourselves. Yet, in truth, we are lost precisely because of them. Every object we cling to, every bitterness we nurture, becomes another chain around the heart. To release them is to trust that God provides, that emptiness is not loss but preparation — a space for grace to dwell. As the seed must first fall into the ground and die before it bears fruit, so too must we release the old to receive the new.

To “pray for courage,” as Meyer urges, is to ask not for sudden strength, but for quiet surrender — the humility to see that nothing we own truly belongs to us, that everything given can be given again. When we declutter the house, we also declutter the mind; when we give to others, we make room for joy. The organized life is not about rigid order but about living intentionally — keeping only what nourishes the soul and releasing what burdens it. In this way, simplicity becomes sacred; the clearing of space becomes an act of worship.

Let this, then, be the lesson: do not fear letting go. Whether it is possessions, grudges, or fears, release them with faith. Ask for divine courage, not to hoard, but to share; not to cling, but to trust. Start small — one object, one act of giving, one surrender of the heart each day. You will find that as the outer world becomes lighter, so too does the spirit within. Freedom, after all, is not found in having more, but in needing less.

So remember, O seeker of peace: clutter is the dust of fear, and fear cannot coexist with faith. Clear your home, clear your heart, and make room for the grace that longs to enter. For when you let go of what you do not need, you are not losing — you are creating space for God’s blessings to dwell. And in that sacred emptiness, you will find not loss, but the quiet and radiant fullness of peace.