It Happens

(Note to readers: There are many words we use for the ol’ ‘number two.’ Although I’m not offended by stronger words for it, I know some are; so in this writing, I’ve chosen to use ‘crap.’  It seems a good middle ground.  You may substitute whatever word you like for it. Fair enough? :) ) 

“Daaaadddy,  I need your help!” my three-year old son yelled from the bathroom.  There he was on the toilet. And there was it.  Without going into details, let’s just say the ‘it’  didn’t quite make it in the potty.   He almost made it, almost.  Usually, he nails it. At this moment, however, it was a crappy mess. Or perhaps a metaphor of life. Hmmmm.

Did I yell at him for crapping his pants? No. Did I make fun of him and shame him? No. Did I sigh and lecture him about how he needs to be more careful? No. Did I go tell his older brother, “Hey,[
look what youre brother did!” No.  Did I hold up his crap and yell about how stinky it is?

There are some things I did do. I did talk kindly to him. I did identify with him. “Hey, that’s happened to Daddy, too. Not fun, is it?” I did carefully help get the crapped-up clothes off him. I cleaned him up.  I did send him back on his way to playing.  After all, he wanted to be clean more than anyone.

After the wipes were thrown away. After the toilet was flushed. After I washed my hands thoroughly for the second time, something struck me. If I, in my broken state, am able to deal with my son’s crap in such a manner, how much more must God be able to deal with mine?  I knew my son was embarrassed by not making it to the potty in time. He had tried to handle it himself, but he knew he needed some Daddy help for this one. Daddy--the royal butt wiper! (It is a skill I’ve gotten quite accomplished at, thank you very much.)   He seemed to trust that I would handle the situation with some degree of competence and grace. He could have just had no other choice!

So here I am, seeking a better way. Trying to go through life without screwing things up too bad. Learning to trust God with my very life. Setting high goals, yet rarely feeling like I’m making much progress on them. I imagine how a true follower of Christ must act. I view others as definitely having it more together than me. Surely others are not having these sort of thoughts.  Then things start to go well. I’m feeling goooooood! I don’t even have to comb my hair because it looks perfect!  I love everybody.  No anger issues. No lustful thoughts. All the traffic lights are turning green as I approach. And I think to myself: what... a... wonderful....me; I mean ‘world.’  (Apologies to Louie Armstrong.)  This would definitely be a good time for Jesus to return!  I am cuh-ruuuizin’.  Go ME! I mean, go God, yeah.

Then I crap myself. Well, not in the literal sense. (That will, perhaps, be in a future writing.) I feel that unholy anger toward my kids, and react with little regard to how ridiculous I’m acting.  Or I have not just one passing impure thought, but many in a row, purposely indulging them as they fill my mind like a drug. Then resistance seems futile.  Crap. Everywhere. Here I am again. Embarrassed. Guilt-ridden. Feeling like, well, crap.  And the worst part is that it’s my own. I could blame someone else;  but I know the truth. Despite my attempts at being clean, or at least looking clean (which church-going folk can be quite skilled at), I’ve done it again. I’ve crapped myself.  The thoughts come: God surely must want to keep his distance from me. I must be such an embarrassment to Him. I’m such a hopeless case. Endless accusations: When are you going to get over this? Why don’t you just give up? You’re a joke.

Then I see Him coming to me. Not with a look of disgust or judgment, but with a piercing love in His eyes, and a smile. “Hey, Rich, how about we get you cleaned up?” He kneels down, washes me, quietly wiping away my shame. He reminds me who I am. Loved. Accepted. More than a conqueror.  He shows me a better way. He gently, but powerfully, restores my soul. He is the Washer of hearts. He makes all things new. Again, again, and again.