Comet for the Soul

Do you get the same rush of exhilaration, the same disgusted thrill that I get when I clean something really really dirty? You know—you sweep the floor and grimace at the Mt. Everest-sized pile, but a part of you is secretly satisfied that you just eliminated all the dirt and stray cheerios. Or you mop, and you examine the once-white mop head and the once-pristine water with an equal amount of contentment. I could go on and on with these dirty pleasures—dusting and getting a dusty rag, vacuuming and filling the bag, organizing and throwing things away. I am the person who can sympathize with Matthew Cuthbert when Anne said, “‘When I hit on a name that suits exactly it gives me a thrill. Do things ever give you a thrill?’ Matthew ruminated. ‘Well no, yes. It always kind of gives me a thrill to see them ugly white grubs that spade up in the cucumber beds. I hate the look of them.*’” Matthew, it makes perfect sense to me.
Spring cleaning and fall cleaning were once unbreakable traditions of housewives, but this fall I am going to be doing a different sort of deep cleaning. This deep cleaning is more difficult, and getting rid of the stray cheerios and dirt is more painful, but it nonetheless brings the same thrill. It’s the scouring, brushing, and mopping of the soul.
I have been a Christian for most of my life, and I have both plodded up the mountains and slid down into the valleys. With the journey, though, comes oodles of piled-up memorabilia. I realized lately, when I looked into my life, how heart-breakingly easy it has been to gather a collection of cobwebs, grime, and trash that have tripped up my heart and slowed my obedience down. Small dirty sins, little grimy distractions—these things somehow appear in any house, and if the sturdy homemaker ignores them, they will bring deterioration. Yes—it’s definitely time for fall cleaning.
This month, I’m going to roll up my sleeves and work with God. I want to spend more time than ever in Scripture, challenging my accepted thought-processes, allowing God to convict me of sin. I want to confront my own weaknesses—my time-wasters, my attitudes, my lack of a servant’s spirit. Then, once God has shown me all this dirt, I’m going to hand the dust-rag to God and confess where I’ve been storing the mess. For God is in the business of deep cleaning, too. Psalm 51:7 says, “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”
In Isaiah 64:6, I get that thrill again as I look at the disgusting dust-rag after my soul is squeaky clean: “But we are all like an unclean thing, And all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags.”
Garbage bag—check. Soul-scrubber—check. Heart-scourer—check. World-view bleacher—check. The dirt has no chance.

Picture from http://thewomensroom.typepad.com/.a/6a0105356c398f970c0111686b211a970c-800wi

*Quote from Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, page 19