Stepping In

Disclaimer: this post is not meant to be read while eating. Consider yourself warned.

The more I try to follow Jesus, the more I realize that he is always speaking to us, whether we are listening or not.  He can use any means, any situation, and nothing is too plain or ordinary for him.  He doesn't have to part the heavens; he'll do whatever it takes to get to us.

I know that because this week he spoke to me through a piece of poop.

No, not like an audible voice or anything.  I'll explain.  First of all, though, just a brief sidebar: I will be using the G-rated or PG-rated terms for fecal matter throughout this post (poop and crap, respectively), but I wish it to be known that I find neither of them as satisfying as the PG-13/R-rated term for which they are both euphemisms (although there's no denying that poop is an intrinsically funny word).  I think it has to do with the idea of onomatopoeia-- when you step in some of said substance, it doesn't sound anything like "poop" or "crap"... but it does sound an awful lot like "Sh....."   (at least I think so).  Also, the occasional use of real swear words instead of their socially acceptable equivalents can be more helpful (and probably no more or less offensive to God, who sees our hearts) in relieving real frustration such as what I'm about to describe, I've found.  But, I really don't want to get into the moral discussion of the proper uses (if any) of profanity.  Although, having said all that, it probably can't be helped at this point. ANYway...

To restate my earlier premise, God used some crap to get my attention.  I was moving a bunch of stuff into my new apartment, and I had to park my car on the street (I guess 3rd-floor tenants don't get driveway spots).  So, I was carrying a big box of random stuff through the treelawn.  As you may know, when carrying a big box it is pretty hard to see the ground near your feet.

So yeah, I stepped all up in that stuff (a prime example of a situation where using the real word would be more satisfying).  Not one of those glancing blows where you just wipe it off real quick, but one of those where you look down and the whole pile is smashed flat and a large portion is still adhering to and squishing around the side of your shoe.  Very frustrating, and not at all what you want to be tracking into your new apartment, especially when to get there you have to walk up a common staircase past two other people's doors whom you'd like to have a cordial relationship with.

Something had to be done, so I left my shoes at the door, took the box up to my place in my socks, and got some paper towels. Unfortunately, I was wearing basketball shoes.  As a former shoe salesman, I know that the benefits of this shoe style include superior impact absorption (for jumping), great ankle support, and good traction.  Well, the traction part turns into a big disadvantage if you step in some crap, because all those little rubber zigzags make for some pretty impossible crevices to clean with paper towels.  So there I was, sitting on my new doorstep, very intently scraping poop out of the treads of my shoe with a tiny stick.

And then God said, "What if you were this diligent about getting rid of the crap that's in your heart?"

At least, that's the best wording I can put to the conviction I felt in my spirit.  How often am I content to just leave my sin sticking to me and track it all around my own life and the lives of those around me?  It's not big... just like poop isn't real big.  It isn't the size that's the problem... it's the content, the dirt, and... the smell.

We're supposed to be the fragrance of Christ in the world, both to believers and those who are still searching, and ultimately as an offering to God himself (see 2 Corinthians 2:14-16).  But if we walk without really caring too much or taking time to address the sin stuck in the treads of our lives, even the little/private/thought-life/insert excuse here stuff, I guarantee our aroma will be a much different one. 

Even if most of the rest of us is clean, it doesn't take much to change a fragrance.  I can pray and worship God and witness all I want, but if I'm self-centered the rest of the time then what do I smell like?  I'll leave you to fill in that blank.  By the way, another sidebar I don't want to get into now: this same principle may well be why the church is often not respected by our culture.  We can do all kinds of good things, but it doesn't take many people like those idiots who protest at funerals and such to change the aroma of all of us...just a thought.

Back to my other idea, though.  The verse that God initially brought to my mind through all of this was a different one from 2 Corinthians-- the part where it talks about their reaction to the correction Paul had brought them in his other letter (7:8-11):

"Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it--I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while--yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance.  For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us.  Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.  See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter."

See, we don't need to dwell painfully on our sin forever, but to bring it to God.  God's conviction brings earnestness, eagerness to clear ourselves, indignation, alarm, longing, concern, and readiness for justice-- all of which are exactly what I felt when I stepped in that crap, by the way.  I was diligent, eager to clean it off, angry, alarmed, concerned, and ready to see justice done to the perpetrator!  (I believe I prayed something to the effect that the owner of that dog would have to watch it get run over, actually.  I'm not saying this was part of the godly sorrow, just that it seemed like justice at the time. It probably isn't.)

The bigger question, though, is why my stepping into sin doesn't have this same effect on me.  Why do I seem so unconcerned about the uncleanness and the aroma?  Why don't I have that same earnestness to be clean? I have one idea-- come back with me to my story for a moment.

The reason I was at the apartment in the first place on this day before moving in was to meet the gas man and let him in so he could turn the gas on.  He was (not surprisingly) late, but it turned out to be good because I had just finished my lengthy cleaning process and gotten all the stuff up into my place.  He arrived just as I was coming down to my car with a couple bags I was going to fill with more stuff to move on a future trip.  "Go on in," I said, "it's open... I just have to drop these in my car real quick."  So I was hurrying back to my car, only thinking about getting back into the house to show him where to go.  You see where this is heading?

Yup.  I stepped in it again.  The exact same place.  It wasn't quite as bad this time, but only because it was already completely flat from the first time.  What I said at this point I will not even paraphrase.  My point is, though, that I felt a lot less desire to clean it off right away, having just gone through that whole process.

I think it gets harder to deal with our sin seriously because we keep coming back to it.  We step in it again, sometimes within hours or minutes of getting clean, and we'd just rather hide it than go through the painstaking process of actually cleaning it out and the additional shame of not being able to avoid the exact same mistake we already made.  The ancient philosopher Heraclitus famously said "You could not step twice into the same river," the idea being that the water flows on and is different when you come back.  But you can step into the same crap as many times as you choose to, or as many times as you forget where it is or don't pay attention.

That's why it's so important to have godly sorrow, the kind that brings earnestness and repentance and leaves no regret.  Each time we come before God with our sin is no different than the first time.  His love for us is the same, no matter how many times we fall, and only He can clean us to the point where we convey the aroma of Christ and give us awareness of how to stay out of the crap next time.

So anyway, I did clean off my shoes again, and it was while doing so that I felt like God told me that second part.  The instrument He used to reveal all this to me was perhaps the most unglamorous one possible, and then just in case I forgot he used that same piece of s**t (couldn't resist any longer) again.  He is always speaking.  Will I listen?  He has much better things for me to step into. :)