Sponsored faces seek to hook us with their captions.
One-liners and forced emotion capture us into the rat-race, draw us into the barren places, mindlessly luring us into stories, we will never have a role in.
The latest crisis taunts us with the lie, “You have to watch. You need to listen”, turning curiosity into doom-scrolling.
The caption of the world, and even modern day Christianity promises, “Climb higher and you will be happier”.
Yet, the lie still prevails; if we wrap ourselves in purpose, present ourselves “for goodness’ sake”, ignoring our daily lives of mediocrity, to seek some chance at fame…
- Our hearts won’t be so empty.
- Our lives won’t stink of insecurity.
- Our measuring rod to judge the Jones’ will somehow be shorter.
We will belong. We will fit in. We will have a reason to exist.
That God-sized hole in our souls will be filled with “righteous work” seen by men. And though outwardly, we give God the glory…
Inwardly, we are coveting the spotlight, accepting the pride, and being inflated by the applause of men.
The Laundry Room
I stand in the stench of a laundry room, piled knee high with soiled garments. Vomit-ridden blankets, clothes stacked like the pride I had been carrying.
Something about that pile makes me resist facing it.
Was it my tube-fed foster daughter whose sheets she keeps puking on, every time I put a clean one down?
Was it that my laundry room is out of view and I’d rather look at my sparkling kitchen than gaze at this heavy space, calling me to obedience, making me run and keep running as if a hamster in a cage?
I pick up a shirt, throw it in the wash. Then, another. And another. I wasn’t excited. No, far from it.
With six kids and a husband; the chores seem to snowball into a mound I cannot carry. The rewards can feel minimal…Like a merry-go-round spinning…No end in sight.
And in that place, that space of filthy blankets, soiled bedding, shirts dirty from my girls playing…
I hear Him whisper to my weary soul…
“Doing laundry is holy work.”
It couldn’t have been me.
I don’t like laundry. And the truth is…laundry feels far from holy.
- Holy is the climb. It’s spotlights.
- Holy is that stage-standing-moment where I share the wild words of God’s Scripture to dozens of onlooking eyes.
- Holy is fundraising for shoes to fit crackled feet, then sending them to the hidden valleys of a remote village in the Andes.
- Holy is holding babies half way around the world, in an orphanage in China.
And Holy is getting caught up in His gaze at a revival service, isn’t it?
“Holy is not laundry”, I resisted.
And just as I questioned the whisper of my spirit, I think about who I was doing the laundry for. Their stories. Their past. Their struggles. Their victories.
I think about the face of Jesus. What Scripture REALLY says about this humble God I serve, who served so willingly all of humanity.
Didn’t Jesus get down and touch what was filthy, like I was doing?
I mean, literally. He touched and wrote in the dirt. (John 8:1-11)
Then, in John 9:6-25, Jesus not only touched the dirt, He spit in it, made mud and placed it on someone’s eyes.
Couldn’t Jesus, being God, have just said, “Be healed”? But instead, He set the example of touching ugliness…like the dirty laundry I was holding…
Filth. The things those striving for spotlights, often don’t love touching.
In Luke 5:13-15, Jesus actually touched a man with leprosy. He touched him.
Jesus didn’t need to reach His arms out. He didn’t need to actually, physically interact with people who were messy…But He did.
Jesus touched the dirt and so should we.
He served.
“The Son of Man didn’t come to be served, but to serve, and give His life as a ransom for many.” (Matt. 20:18, Mark 10:45, John 13:1-17)
Servanthood
Flashing reels. Expert opinions. Keyboard preachers climbing with shameless claws to make a name for themselves.
And yet, Jesus came as a humble servant.
- He washed feet.
- Saw the broken.
- And wasn’t afraid to touch the filth connected to another person’s life.
He wrote in the sand amidst the dirt, to declare hope, healing and freedom to those bound by doubt or fear.
Today why is it, we stack up preachers for ourselves; like badges on our lapel, metals stating we should earn some reward because we have listened to countless sermons?
But, “Faith without works is dead.” (James 2:14-26) And aren’t we called to be more than hearers of the Word, but doers of the Word instead? (James 1:22-25)
Empty words don’t earn halos in heaven. Intellectualism or expensive shoes don’t equal the power of quiet obedience.
I am not going to lie…
Standing in the midst of the memories of cleaning up my child’s vomit did not rouse any inkling of holiness. I was not patting myself on the back.
In fact, I was dreading stepping into yet another pile of laundry as I washed, dried, then folded. Repeat.
The place I was standing on didn’t feel like holy ground. It looked like hired help quarters, off our kitchen, almost outside the main part of our house.
To be honest…I often feel nothing there. I regularly can just be hurried or numb inside…
All the while, longing to stand on Mount Everest. Wanting to impress the crowds with more than my uncombed hair, bare feet and hidden shadows of
quiet obedience…
Yet, those words, “Doing laundry is holy work”, gripped me by surprise.
It jolted a message of truth through my pride, as my pile started dwindling with each load I washed.
I was not invisible.
And can I just tell you?
Whether you have a quiet place in this world, taking care of your children, working at an unseen job, or you are just trying to be obedient wherever God has planted you…
You are not invisible either.
Your efforts are seen by God. They are precious fruits of love, holy in His eyes.
Service is the magnificent spot where holiness is birthed, intimacy with God is unearthed and bondservants confess with more than just words, they are sold out to the call.
- If Jesus could bend down and write in dirt…
- If Jesus could touch the filth on the feet of the one who would betray Him…
- If Jesus could come alongside us and put mud in the eye of those blinded to the reality that the way is not higher, but lower…
Then, maybe our work is not forgotten either.
Perhaps, God is right here; in the humble places of our obedient, servant-like hearts.
Because even Jesus, touched dirt.
And perhaps in the dirt, not just under some steeple, is where we find Jesus most.
