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When I was growing up, my Aunt Connie was what people would call a hoarder.

A hoarder is someone who has an extremely difficult time letting things go. It’s more than just being messy or having a lot of belongings. It’s when possessions begin to take over the living space. Things are kept not because they are needed, but because letting them go feels impossible. Over time, the stuff becomes overwhelming. It fills rooms. It blocks hallways. It makes it difficult to move freely through what is supposed to be a home.

I remember walking into her house and having to carefully navigate narrow paths between stacks of newspapers, boxes, clothes, and things that had been collected over years and years. There wasn’t space to sit in many of the chairs. There wasn’t space to gather around the table. There wasn’t space to simply live the kind of life I wanted for her.

Even when people tried to help, even when things were cleaned out and organized, it never lasted long. Slowly, quietly, the spaces would fill back up again.

As a youth, and even as an adult, it broke my heart.

Because I wanted so much more for her life than that.

I wanted her to have space. Space to welcome people in. Space to breathe. Space to rest. Space to live freely without being surrounded by things that weighed her down.

That experience shaped me in ways I didn’t fully realize until later in life. To this day, I throw things away quickly. Sometimes too quickly. I am always aware of how easily things can accumulate. How easily what we hold onto can begin to hold onto us.

And the truth is, it’s not just physical things.

We carry so much in our lives.

We carry old hurts. Old fears. Old habits. Old assumptions about ourselves. We carry worries about the future and regrets about the past. And over time, without even realizing it, those things can begin to fill the spaces of our hearts.

They can make it harder to move freely.  Harder to breathe.  Harder to live the life God is calling us to live.  That is why the first Sunday in Lent always takes us to the wilderness.  The wilderness is not cluttered. It is not full. It is bare. It is quiet. It is honest.

When Jesus entered the wilderness, there was nothing there to distract him from what mattered most. No crowds. No applause. No possessions. Just Jesus and God.

Lent invites us into that same kind of space.  Not because God wants to take things away from us, but because God wants something more for us.  More freedom.  More clarity.  More trust.

This year, as we walk through Lent together at Broad Street, part of that journey is the 10% Challenge. And while that is about generosity, it is also about space. It is about loosening our grip on the things we believe we cannot live without and discovering that God is enough.

Because when our lives are filled to the brim, there is no room to receive anything new.  But when we begin to let go, even a little, we create space.  Space for peace.  Space for joy.  Space for God.

I wanted so much more for my Aunt Connie’s life than rooms filled with things.  And I know God wants so much more for our lives too.  Lent is our invitation to begin clearing the path.  To step into the wilderness.  And to discover that what feels empty may actually be the place where God meets us most fully.  See you Sunday!

Peace, Pastor Tracy