I don’t like cleaning the kitchen.

As I walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee this first day after Christmas, I saw it:  the aftermath of the prior evening’s revelry… the kitchen was a mess. Food was out, trash was everywhere, and dishes were dirty. I opened the microwave and it looked like an epic tragedy had unfolded in there. After a brief moment, in which I considered my options of moving to another house, I began to gather trash, bagging it up next to the overflowing trashcan in the corner. I resigned myself to cleaning the kitchen in that early morning hour. Then it happened… a holy moment occurred.

It dawned on me in the quiet of the house where everyone was still sleeping and naught was heard but water running in the kitchen sink, that I am very much like this kitchen. I get very dirty and am in need of a good cleaning, just like our kitchen. Not merely occasionally; no, our kitchen requires cleaning every day, normally multiple times a day during holidays when everyone is home. I’m like that too. I would love to say that God cleanses me occasionally when I slip up, but that I typically remain in a state of cleanliness, but that simply isn’t the case. I need to be cleansed every single day, usually multiple times per day. As I stood there in my pajamas washing plates, cups, forks, pots, and pans, I reflected upon how God cleans me like this… every day, multiple times per day. He does so knowing that I will only get dirty again. He wipes the grime of my selfishness away and places me back where I belong knowing that in a matter of hours I’ll be dirty again. He bags up the trash that I sloppily leave on the counter of my mind and heart with the full understanding that there will be more. Then he will patiently clean me again, and again, and again.

I don’t normally enjoy cleaning the kitchen, but this morning was different. As I scrubbed, and wiped, and scoured I pictured God doing the same to me and I was overcome with gratitude. I put away the sparkling clean plates and the shiny pans with the understanding that in a very short time my family would wake up and come into the kitchen to dirty them again. I smiled. I pictured God scrubbing, wiping, and scouring my stained and filthy heart, and putting it back aright, with the understanding that in a very short time I would wander off to soil myself again. He must surely love me and have infinite patience with me.

I finished cleaning the kitchen just as they arrived – my family. They were hungry for breakfast and began foraging around the pantry and refrigerator looking for something tempting to eat for breakfast. I smiled to myself as I thought I could just faintly make out the sound of holy water running in God’s heavenly sink and I pictured Him rolling up his sleeves, getting ready to make me clean later that day. It was a holy moment for sure.

I love cleaning the kitchen!

James McGee

Of all the commands of Jesus, the one most commonly broken today is, “Do not fear.” So oft repeated by our savior, yet so oft neglected by his followers, the command to not fear is the foundation to a peaceful life. We do not have peace because we are filled with fear. We have so many fears I hesitate to even suggest a list.

The affluent among us are far from immune. Rather than bringing peace, wealth seems to arrive bearing fear as its chief dividend. We fear losing the security that wealth promises. We fear losing honor to fill our empty hearts. In their stead, we receive those empty promises and live in the poverty of fear, captive to the lies of materialism while insecurity guides our every decision. In vain we throw the worthlessly shifting honor of people down into the bottomless pits of our heart, hoping in vain that it will finally be full.

We can look to a couple of examples of how our fears effervesce to our conscience. The rise of dystopian literature is a reflection of our fear. Dystopian literature, with its prophesy of impending doom, is the manifestation of an affluent society fearful of losing its wealth and security. How will we deal with this loss? Who will emerge to restore our prominence? Dystopian protagonists are the modern Christ-figures who will lead us to the rightful restoration of security… so we hope. We pray to the gods among us for leaders who will protect our scraps and bits with which we measure our worth. We worship leaders who will guard us from want by taking from those who have, feeding our petty jealousy.

Take a look at pop-culture. Before we become too condemning toward those “Hollywood types” who bathe in their own vanity, we may do well to consider that the Hollywood culture is borne out and a reflection of our own modern society. They do not lead on the cutting edge, but are birthed from a populist demand. While it’s true that “they” clamor and scrabble for the bare bones of fickle honor cast to them by the general public, it’s also true that “they” are us. We go about our daily lives worried about what people will say and what they think about us. This fear drives what we wear, eat, drive, and with whom we associate. We strut down the red carpet of our workplaces, posing and smiling for the flashbulbs of compliments which pop and flash as we fear revealing who we really are.

Truly, there is only one answer to our fear, and that is to place our faith in the one who tells us to fear not. On the mountain, when he was transfigured, Jesus told Peter, James, and John to not fear. Their rightful response was worship and faith. Seeing Jesus in this way put all else in perspective. I doubt that they were still worried about material things or the honor of other people when they saw Jesus transfigured.

This time of year, as we consider the advent of Jesus into our fearful world, we would do well to obey the one who holds the strings of the world as he says, “Do not fear.” Do not fear the loss of temporary things. Do not fear the absence of shifting approval and fickle honor. Do not fear the scorn of unbelief. Have faith in the one who loves you and offers you all.

Have faith!