Why should I make my bed?

Originally written and published in June 2010.

I have difficulty doing something “just because.” I need a reason. For years—decades, even—I insisted there was no good reason to make my bed.

Ambiguous "should be done" reasoning simply isn’t compelling to me. My mind demands justification. Without it, I shrug internally and decide: If I don’t have to, I won’t.

For me, making my bed was the perfect example of this resistance. Why make it in the morning if you’re just going to unmake it at night? That was my reasoning for most of my life.

A New Perspective on Bed-Making

My husband, on the other hand, approaches the question differently. He needs the sheets and blankets straightened to fit his height. Growing up, I never worried about such things. My nightly routine was to climb into bed and wiggle the covers until I was somewhat tucked in.

Imagine my surprise when I married someone who would make the bed right before getting into it! Bizarre.

Over the years, I’ve gone through phases of morning bed-making. Strangely enough, my logic has almost reversed. If my husband is going to make the bed in the evening, why not make it in the morning instead?

What I’ve Learned by Making My Bed

Through these experiments with bed-making, I’ve discovered a few surprising truths:

1. A Made Bed Transforms a Room
   Even in an untidy space, a made bed brings a sense of order. Conversely, an unmade bed disrupts the harmony of an otherwise tidy room.
2. Habits Are Powerful
   Making the bed takes less than a minute, but mentally, it feels monumental. Breaking years of ingrained habits and tendencies is no small feat.
3. It’s a Lesson in Self-Mastery
   Making my bed has become a symbolic act. It’s a 45-second task that reminds me I can resist my natural inclinations. It’s a way to tell myself: I will not flow down the path of least resistance.

The Deeper Meaning of Bed-Making

A few months ago, I read Kathleen Norris’ Acedia & Me, and one passage changed my perspective entirely:

“[T]rue freedom develops out of discipline and a healthy respect for necessity… ‘You will feel better,’ [my mother] said, ‘if you come home to an orderly room.’”

Norris frames daily acts—like bed-making, dishwashing, and brushing your teeth—as expressions of self-respect and hospitality to oneself. These simple acts resist the pull of acedia, a spiritual and mental sluggishness that tempts us to reject the repetitive nature of life’s daily tasks.

She notes that refusing these small acts can lead to deeper struggles. The desire to “do everything once and for all” is not just impractical—it’s a temptation toward despair.

Yikes.

Bed-Making as an Act of Worship

This shift in thinking startled me. Tasks like bed-making, dishwashing, and even changing diapers aren’t meaningless repetitions. They’re opportunities to honor the image of God within us.

In Genesis, God gave Adam and Eve a garden—not to conquer, but to tend. This teaches us that we were made to care, to maintain, and to love—not to achieve something "once and for all."

Daily tasks like making the bed reflect this call to tend. Far from demeaning, these acts bestow honor. They remind me that laying down my life in service to others is a way to truly live.

In God’s economy, tending is life-giving. Refusing to do so is, in a sense, a refusal to embrace life as it’s been given.

Why I Make My Bed

So, I’ve come to see making my bed as a simple, humble act of obedience and worship. It’s a way to honor God’s call to care for what I’ve been given and to resist the pull of my own logic and laziness.

And as I smooth the sheets each morning, I take a small step in laying down my life, putting to death my old self, and embracing the work God has for me.

Up Next: What Making My Bed Taught Me About Habits

Your routines should fit your life.

This guide will help you set up housecleaning routines that work with your preferences, home, and schedule.

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