i stumbled (literally, over a Matchbox car – anyone who can relate?) into the kitchen this morning, only to be confronted with what long days full of too busy for housework can do.
if it’s true that cleanliness is next to Godliness, then my floors are a ready metaphor for my heart – they need washing with the water of the word.
baby on hip and coffee in hand, i settled in on the couch with a boy in his pajamas, and i looked for daily manna in a toddler bible
and came away full.
for the story was of Naaman, his leprosy caricatured and cartoonish alongside his aristocratic finery and gallant steed. a man who, like many parents i know, was pointed toward sanctification by a tiny child. a man who, like that confounding creature who meets me in the mirror, heard God’s instructions and found them: unappealing. not quite what he’d had in mind. perhaps a little beneath him.
the waters of the Jordan and the stack of dishes by the sink collide … and pride bubbles up through skin, searing like leprosy’s scars.
the work that God has given us to do is always – always – part of who He is calling us to be. even – no, especially – the dirty work.
so often we see painted on closed eyelids the God call of Africa missions, of book jackets boasting our photo, of our name as an impressive Google search. and when we open those same eyes, to the realities of kitchen piled dirty and baby teething fussy and life as mess mess mess, our pride tells us that this faith walk should be something … well, MORE.
then Jesus speaks.
and he tells us truth, hard-to-swallow and the only one that will satisfy: that it’s in the low that he raises us high.
God may use your life
to do big things …
but not until
you’re faithful with the small.
and so, with flesh far more dirty than floors, i take up this mop – take it up as daily cross – and try to use it for his glory. how absurd that reads, as i type it, but it is truth.
here’s hoping, dear friends, that this weekend you are empowered to do those things that are earthly small and Kingdom huge.