On Priorities
Or, how spring cleaning can help us clear out the mental clutter
It is spring in Texas.
Which means, as best as I can tell, the weather has entered into a kind of…creative phase.
Seven days ago, we had wind gusts of 45 miles per hour and a temperature hovering around 55 degrees.
And, as I write this, it is a blustery—but somehow also determined—97 degrees.
Spring time in Texas, to be sure.
Just wait another 5 minutes and the weather will change its mind…again.
All jokes aside, spring has long been the season of cleaning—closets, garages, and that one drawer in the kitchen that seems to hold everything except what you’re looking for.
And for good reason.
Our annual rite of spring cleaning coincides rather conveniently with tax refund season.
Never mind that one should not actually hope for a refund (as it means you, dear reader, have given the government a twelve-month, interest-free loan), the real irony of spring cleaning is this:
We often make space…only to fill it again.
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The Ancient Practice of Clearing Out
Spring cleaning is not merely cultural—it is deeply historical.
For observant Jews, the thorough cleaning of the home is an essential preparation for Passover. Rooted in Scripture, the practice involves removing all leaven (yeast) from the household.
As it is written: “Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread. On the first day you shall remove leaven out of your houses…” (Exodus 12:15)
And again: “No leaven shall be found in your houses for seven days…” (Exodus 12:19)
Leaven, in this context, represents more than just bread.
It becomes a symbol—of impurity, of haste, of what lingers unnoticed.
And so the cleaning is not merely hygienic.
It is liturgical.
A preparation not just of the home, but of the heart.
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When Words Lose Their Weight
Perhaps it is because of this season that I have been thinking more about words.
What they mean.
How they change.
And what that change has done to us.
Lately, I have been reading After Virtue, by Alasdair MacIntyre.
Written nearly half a century ago, he outlined the widening gap between concepts like virtue, duty, and moral purpose—and how modernity has, in many ways, hollowed them out.
And whereas, more than four centuries ago, nearly all Christians could have answered the first question raised in the Westminster Catechism—What is the chief end of man?—we are now left asking:
What can I do to get ahead?
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From Priority to Priorities
And so, in light of all this, I have been focusing on an interior kind of cleaning.
A clearing of the mind.
A gentle audit of habits and behaviors that pull me away from what should be my priority.
Such an interesting word, really.
“Priority” comes from the Latin prior, meaning first.
Originally, it meant simply: the condition of being first in order, rank, or importance.
Singular.
In earlier centuries—especially within Christian thought—life was often ordered around a highest good: God, virtue, duty.
One organizing principle.
One north star.
So let me ask you: what is your ordering principle?
God?
Success?
Money?
Family?
Or, like many of us currently, is it…all of them?
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The Weight of Too Many Things
When everything is important, nothing truly is.
Competing priorities rarely lead to clarity.
More often, they lead to a quiet kind of exhaustion.
As writer Shane Parrish observed:
“If you don’t give your life a direction, the world will give it a distraction.”
And, regrettably, distractions rarely travel alone.
They tend to bring friends.
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Clearing the Mind
So what can we do?
We clean.
Not just our homes—but our thoughts.
We begin to notice the internal monologue that drifts toward catastrophizing and self-doubt.
And we gently interrupt it.
The writer Sylvester McNutt III offers this: “Overthinking is the biggest waste of human energy. Trust yourself, make a decision and gain more experience. There is no such thing as perfect. You cannot think your way into perfection. Just take action.”
And perhaps we take that first step.
Because, as Abraham Lincoln once said: “To remain as I am is impossible. I must die or be better, it appears to me.”
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A Gentle Inventory
So, as you sort through your closets or clear out your garage—making space for what stays and what goes—perhaps take a moment for a quieter inventory.
Ask yourself:
What resistance to change do I feel?
Where am I unfocused—and why?
What kind of life am I actually trying to build?
And perhaps, along the way:
Pick up a book.
Put the phone down a little more often.
Let the mind settle.
Spring, after all, is not just a season of clearing.
It is a season of return.
A return to what matters.
To what is first.
To what is quietly, patiently waiting beneath the clutter.
And if we are willing to clear just a little space—
in our homes, in our minds, in our lives—
we may find that what we were searching for
was never missing at all.
Only buried.