Why Simplifying Your Life Feels So Hard: A Biblical Perspective on Slow Living
If you’ve ever tried to simplify your life and wondered why it feels anything but simple, you’re not alone.
This post is part two of the Live Simply series. If you’re new here, I’d start there. It sets the heart behind why we’re even talking about simplicity in the first place.
But if you’re already here—curious, tired, or quietly craving something gentler—welcome. You’re exactly where you need to be.
My Closet Cleanout: When Simplifying Got Emotional
A few months ago, I decided to simplify my closet.
Just a small project, right?
A harmless little clean-out.
Except—no.
It turned into a full-on emotional event.
A few weeks before this closet cleanout saga, my husband—who has his own closet (separate closets and vanities really do save marriages)—walked into mine with wide eyes and a simple, “Wow.”
I didn’t need to ask wow what.
I had five piles of jeans stacked on top of already overstuffed racks of clothes, nearly reaching the ceiling. Hangers were jammed so tightly together I could barely slide my hand between them to see what was even hanging there.
It was out of control.
So simplifying my wardrobe felt necessary…
but it also felt surprisingly painful.
As I stood there deciding what to keep and what to let go of, I realized something:
It’s hard to part with things.
Even things I don’t wear.
Even things I don’t love.
Even things I forgot I owned.
And if that’s true for my closet, it’s definitely true for my inner world.
Why We Hold On to Hustle (Even When It Hurts)
In a world chasing the soft life and slow living online—romanticizing mindful moments and intentional rhythms—Jesus offers something deeper.
Not just less stuff.
But less striving.
A biblical slow living rooted in ancient paths.
The kind that actually brings rest to hurried souls.
Jesus invites us into a simpler, slower, more grounded way of living—but if we’re honest, there are parts of this more, more, more culture we’ve grown used to. Even enjoy. Crave.
The rush makes us feel important. Needed.
The productivity tells us we accomplished something today.
The achievement feels validating.
The applause whispers, I am doing great.
Busyness has a way of masking the deeper things we don’t want to face—because those things are hard. Uncomfortable. And often painful.
So simplifying your life sounds like the dream.
But actually doing the work to simplify—your mind, your heart, your schedule, your rhythms, your closet—doesn’t always feel peaceful at first.
Loss Before Freedom: The Hidden Pain of Letting Go
Sometimes simplifying feels like loss.
Sometimes it feels like surrender.
Sometimes it feels like loosening your grip on an identity built around holding everything together.
But here’s what I know:
If Jesus calls us to live simply, there’s a reason.
He doesn’t prescribe an antidote that doesn’t heal a sick part of us.
For the years leading up to this last one, I lived anything but simply.
I followed the cultural rule of more is more straight into burnout, overwhelm, and spiritual dryness. I have the scars—and the journal entries—to prove it.
So instead of you earning your own set of battle scars, I want to tell the truth about what a life of more actually produces.
Because it’s not just clutter.
It’s not just noise.
It’s not just a busy calendar.
A life built on more eventually produces three things—and none of them resemble the life Jesus died to give us.
Striving. Anxiety. And a faith rooted in performance instead of relationship.
We’ll unpack those gently in the next post in this series.
Jesus’ Invitation to Biblical Slow Living and True Rest
But for today, I want you to hear this:
If simplifying feels hard, it’s because letting go almost always feels like loss before it feels like freedom.
Your soul has been shaped by years of hurry.
Your identity has been propped up by productivity.
Your heart has grown used to measuring your value by how much you do, fix, serve, carry, and hold together.
Of course simplifying your life feels uncomfortable.
Of course slowing down feels foreign.
Of course rest feels like a luxury instead of a calling.
But Jesus isn’t trying to take something from you.
He’s trying to give something back.
Your peace.
Your presence.
Your joy.
Your breath.
Your life.
So if you’ve felt discouraged because simplifying feels messy, emotional, or even painful—you’re not doing it wrong.
You’re right where you should be.
This is the beginning of healing, not the end of it.
And you don’t have to walk it alone.
We’re going to take this slowly.
Intentionally.
Gently.
