“What is that Smell?, I’m Serious! We have to find it right now!”
This ungodly, repugnant odor was creeping through the living room. A smell that should be confined to one room in this house was now resonating from the Kids living room with particular vigor. I have teenagers. I am quite familiar with the smell of feet, and rear-end and sweat. I have Febreeze bottles strategically stashed and secret automatic sprayers spritzing out cinnamon and the smell of the mountains of Brazil, But this… this was different.
” I think it must be a turd, Mom”
That statement changed me. Like a legendary werewolf metamorphosing at a full moon. I changed. I suddenly became every teenagers worst nightmare. a veritable cleaning viking threatening lives and sharpening weapons. There would be no rest until the mystery turd was located. NO rest I say!
By The end of this hunt I was sorry. Sorrier than I have been about anything in a long time. Much to my horror I discovered that my children stash sweat socks behind the bed and in the toy box. That they will use a towel 38 times before it goes into the bin. I discovered that they are happy to sit in their own filth and call it clean. I found Cowboys dirty laundry stash. I found out that if you sweep” it, whatever it may be at the time” into the vents or under the stove, your mother will not even discover said it for at least two months. I found food stashes, underwear piles, sock collections, science experiments and a few things I dont have words to describe. Who puts used underwear in between the mattresses?
And the mystery turd? We found it! 4 hours later. The culprit was my Shitzu , Cocoa or as we affectionately call him ” the Coconater” . No it was not his creation but rather a snack he retrieved from the cat box.
No more kisses for Cocoa.
See the problem is that it all seemed clean to me. I thought that I ran a tight ship. I was positive that the decks were swabbed,the galley fully stocked and ready to go, and that the beds were made and the chores were done. And that, you see is my where my problem lies.
You know what they say about assuming.
Hunting down that one offensive problem led me to discover that there were deeper issues. Ones I did not realize were there. Or maybe I ignored them so that I could say” I am in control”. Because truly cleaning out the broken, piled up, smelly, places in my life takes work. And I am Just too busy, too tired and too distracted to work that hard.
Can you see where I am going with this?
I realize it is a reflection of my spiritual life as well.
What would it take to get me to spring into action like the viking I know I can be?
What would a spiritual mystery turd look like?
A Loss? Just the right Sermon? An unpleasant consequence for my selfish actions? A broken relationship
( Thanks a lot Cocoa, I’m getting a headache)
It is so easy to stuff all this junk in the closet,throw my body against the door to force it shut, and tuck the key away in my pocket, so that the world can’t see my junk. So I can’t see my Junk. I leave it there, until the mystery turd , something offensive or uncomfortable draws me out to plunder through it.
It would be so much easier to just say ” Ok God, I know about my junk, you know about my junk, so could you help me clean out this closet( the places where I store my sin, hurt and issues), help me find the mystery turd ( the root of the problem), and help me to truly get rid of the problem so that I can live a full and happy life. ( take it all to the cross),
But Instead I choose to self soothe, distract myself, and tell myself big ole fat whoppin’ lies, you know so I will have more junk to lock away in another closet. Maybe I over eat. Or under eat. Pick up that cigarette or that beer. Drama. Facebook. TV. Fill up my schedule. Get offended by something ridiculous. Shop then worry about money. Pretend that everyone elses problems are my problems,( I love to save the world you know. ) Unforgiveness. Anger. Maybe I say I just don’t have time or resources. How about this one… Get ready…. Honesty is coming….
I don’t want to. I like it how it is. I am fine sitting in my own filth. I know how to exist here. I am the boss.
It’s not like it takes more work to do the latter than it does to go to God, It’s just that it means I don’t get the be the boss if I trust that the Sacrifice of Jesus is enough to ensure my success. It is easier to stuff your broken heart between the mattresses and ignore that there is work to be done.