“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

PHILIPPIANS 3:14 (NIV)

This morning, I left the house wearing a shirt I knew didn’t fit right. It was a little too short, a little too tight, and honestly, I should have put it in the donation pile months ago. But I grabbed it anyway, put it on, and walked out the door. By the time I hit the on-ramp, I was already regretting it.

The seatbelt tugged at the fabric, making me shift every few minutes. I kept adjusting it, trying to find comfort, but nothing worked. As I drove, the discomfort grew beyond physical—it became symbolic.

As I got on the road, I thought about my closet—particularly the shirts I keep despite knowing they no longer serve me. I realized I hold on to things just because they’ve been there, not because they truly help me. Then the words dropped into my spirit again: What do you keep holding on to?

Near Mile Marker 302, I saw a truck carrying what appeared to be old furniture—worn-out couches, outdated dressers—things once valued but now discarded. It made me reflect on how we similarly hold on to things in life: relationships that drain us, habits that numb us, and routines that no longer match who we’re becoming. We keep them because they’re familiar. Because letting go feels like loss. Because we convince ourselves that someday, somehow, they’ll fit again. However, the longer you hold on to what doesn’t fit, the less room you have for what will.

I thought about my job, friendships, goals, and the person I’m becoming. I realized that some attachments hinder my growth, and the elevation God has prepared for me. It’s not that those things were bad or useless. They once served a purpose, like the shirt I outgrew. Forcing it now only makes me uncomfortable.

The same goes for everything else—the relationship where you’re the only one investing, the mindset that keeps you playing small, the habit you know you should break but keep revisiting because it’s easier than change. Holding on to it doesn’t honor what it was. It just blocks what’s trying to come next.

Later that evening, when I got home, I made the decision that I would clean out my closet—not with regret, but with gratitude. Grateful for what those shirts represented in a season that’s now behind me. And faithful for what’s ahead.

Maybe you need to do the same—not with clothes, but with whatever you’re holding on to that no longer serves you. When you release it, you create space. And in that space, something better will come.

What you release makes room for what will elevate you.

Keep moving forward,

Dr. Key