Bathroom Thoughts

Something I considered as I cleaned

                I have come to find out that cleaning my shower is the easiest way for me to pass out.  I've never actually passed out in there, but I've definitely had close calls a time or two.  While in a semi-conscious state, bent awkwardly as I struggled to clean the grime up, I all of a sudden realized a glimpse of the care which God bestows on us. 

                My mother always taught me to clean meticulously.  Ever since I can remember, she would keep things as orderly as she could.  If the house wasn't inerrant in neatness and immaculate of germs, she wouldn't be satisfied to accept company.  My father also had a streak for order and value.  Growing up with a grandfather that always worked than more than one job, picking up trash and keeping things neat became a part of him. 

                My father, however, is a light sleeper.  As I'm typing this it is already passed 2 am, and I have been bustling around since 10.  The problem?  My father's bed-time is 9.  With his long hours and difficult sleeping pattern, he does his best to be in bed at 9, or 9:30 at the latest.  He has had issues in the past with my brother and I making too much noise and interrupting his sleep.  Now that my brother is off to college, it's easier to keep quiet. 

                But when you're scrubbing the toilet, (always clean it twice, Mom would say), and wiping down the shower, (hot water!  Hot water only, because it kills germs), being quiet is rather hard.  Water gushing through the pipes and rickety shower doors don't make it an easy task.  Being bent over backwards, with blood pulsing to my head and my vision swimming doesn't help much either.  The music that is whispering in the bathroom becomes something only my subconscious recognizes as my hearing fades. 

                As I scrub and scrub, I realize just how dirty this shower is.  There is soap stuck to one side, the floor of the bath is almost grey, and the shower doors are thickly coated in scum.  How on earth had dust and water and dead skin made this place so filthy?  I shook my head, but it provoked my vision so I stopped.  While my blurred eyes settled back into place, I resumed my scrubbing.  I did it as quietly as I could, but paper towel on plastic fronting has a habit of making funny noises. 

                The grey spots I thought were simply discolorations were actually more than that, so I decided I needed to scrub those away too. (Let me know when you're done.  I'll look it over and see if there's anything to fix.  Remember, if you do it right the first time, you won't have to do it again.  For years, my mother's voice transplanted in my head has pushed me to be a woman of character.)  As I worked, bent over and painfully aware of every movement I made and the sound it caused, I found my thoughts drifting.

                When we are washed clean by the father, does he put this much effort into it?  Is He so very cautious to make us clean and righteous before his Father, so that we may have salvation?  I was only cleaning a shower, but what an even greater difference Jesus would care for us!  As his chosen, dearly and truly beloved, would he not be much more loving and careful?  We are his treasure, after all.  We are his bride, so of course he would lavish us with delicate love and tender mercy and abounding joy. 

                When I was finished with cleaning the shower and tub, I noticed how dry my hands were.  They appeared cracked and ashy, but it was only the dried soap.  Next I took to the task of cleaning the floor by hand.  Bathroom floors are usually not disagreeable, but keep in mind tht this one hadn't been cleaned in at least a month or more.  I wet down some paper towels and used them to "mop" up.  The job was mostly scrubbing on all fours through another thick layer of scum, but there was other refuse as well.  Was this how our sins came off on Christ, but instead bloody and filthy? Our debt being so much greater and our power being so much smaller, yet drove him to the cost of shame, death, and ultimate separation. 

                Even in spite of our profanity of declaring ourselves without need of a Savior, he accepts us and scrubs away all that filth and grime when we come back.  As wounded, fearful children, we kick and scream as he holds us close, forgetting that he does not want to hurt us and only wants to heal our bruises.  Gently, he administers the disinfecting medicine all our souls crave, expelling the sin that stains us so completely.  And when it is all laid bare on our skin, he takes the cloth of his love and gently wipes everything away.  Shame, guilt, pride, greed, despair, and pain all finally loosen their hold on us and let go. 

                If it was a perfect world, those stains would go away and we would never face the challenge of keeping our wool clean as we stumble along the muddy path of life.  But alas, we wander and fall away, and need to be herded back to the stable.  Some of us have fallen away for months and years�"we are black, thin, and mangy.  Others are just a bit dull gray, or maybe a murky brown�"they have not strayed so far, this time.  But one by one, Jesus takes all of us in his arms and scrubs every spot of dirt and grime and scum from us until we are truly spotless.  Even if we were gone for years, or maybe just a few hours as we turned God away, he takes us and cleans us back up and sets us on our feet again. 

                What a wonderful God, that he would sacrifice his son and His complete righteousness so that he could save us!  How can we not follow a God that scrubs the scum from us like we scrub waste from a floor?  How can we not follow a God who has swept down, folded us in his arms, and swept us away with his healing?  What a wonderful beauty to be forgiven in perfect Love.

Author's Note

Thoughts on the content are appreciated.