This is the bathtub that we use for our two little ewoks and have you seen Jayda's hair?
O.K....I know you are with me now.
For the past several months it would take the water hours to drain after giving the kids a bath.
I knew it was clogged.
Matt knew it was clogged.
But neither of us wanted to deal with it.
It was simply too disgusting so we left it alone. Simply leaving the bathroom and closing the door worked every time. Out of sight, out of mind.
With homeschool wrapping up and my husband away at a pastor's retreat, I have a little extra time for some home projects. First on the list: that nasty drain.
Jayda and I set out for Lowe's to purchase a Cobra Zip-It. For under $3.00 our lives were about to change. I must admit that I felt like a loser buying this item. We couldn't find it on the shelves so we had to ask some young guy working in the plumbing department.
"Aaaaa.....we're looking (as if Jayda knows a thing, but it makes me feel better including her) for a Cobra Zip-It...can you help us find it?"
This all sounds so official - so proper. What I'm really saying is, "I'm a lazy homemaker and because of that my drain has more hair stuffed in it than Chewbacca has on his entire body."
Pushing my cart with Jayda in front, I follow him to the end cap and look down, a bit ashamed, as he hands me my very own Cobra.
I drive home with purpose, breezing through every green light, Jayda cheering me on for not catching the reds. Lunch is made and gobbled down by hungry children and I head upstairs for the task, Cobra in hand.
As I push the tip down into the drain, it gets stuck and won't go further. Man, this is worse than I thought. I twist and maneuver and it finally goes.
I take a deep breath.
And I pull, gently, slowly, afraid to see what comes up.
This is part of what comes up on the first pull.
I yell down for Abbie to bring me two bags. One is for the gunk and the other is for me in case I get sick. My stomach turns, I make faces indicating disgust, and I breathe slowly. In and out, in and out. Abbie watches me. She breathes with me. She looks down into the bathtub and then she feels for me, really feels for her Mom.
A fight breaks out downstairs between the two little ewoks and Abbie runs down, leaving me alone.
Just me and the drain.
The truth that I was actually thinking about this morning (as I anticipated this disgusting task) suddenly comes to life again. Seeing for myself and actually getting my hands dirty through this disgusting job reminds me of the incredible humility and love of Jesus Christ.
What is coming out of the drain in my bathroom tub, though foul, is no match for the seriousness of my sin. It's so easy to just go through my day, unaware of the severity of my sin and what I really deserve. But if I don't recognize the seriousness, the severity of my sin, how can I and why would I want to live a life worthy of the gospel? This gospel means nothing to me if I don't see my need for Jesus.
This is Jesus, who came into this sin infested world to seek and save that which was lost. He was perfectly holy; without sin, yet walked among sinners daily. He lived with them, he laughed with them, he fished with them, he walked with them, he wept with them, he ate dinner with them...
He entered into their hair-infested-drain-like world.
He lived perfectly, obtaining a righteousness they never could.
He died on a Cross, absorbing all of God's righteous wrath for sinners.
Sinners like me.
As I peer down into the hair-infested drain, sickened by the very sight of my daughter's wet hair, mangled and twisted around the Cobra, this truth - of the love of Jesus - washes over my heart, changing my look of disgust to an actual smile.
Jesus Christ has dealt with my sin - past, present, and future, once and for all. He wasn't disgusted with me and will never be, even when I sin again, and again, and again. His love endures forever, He is quick to forgive, always extending grace upon grace.
This love overwhelms me and causes me to want to live differently.
To not be satisfied with the status quo.
To live worthy of Him who bought me.
Abbie runs to get me my journal that sits open on the dining room table. I've only just begun this adventure of expressing my gratitude to God for daily gifts; gifts that I often take for granted. Saying "thank you" and writing them down is a life-changer for me. It's part of my fight for joy.
She hands it to me saying, "I'm your personal delivery person today Mom."
Grabbing the nearest pen, I write:
#46 Showing me truth while I clean the bathtub drain.