We moved recently, (a contributing factor to my inconsistency with writing). It has been a big move that quite honestly has both excited and terrified me. We have cried tears of joy and tears of heartache.   This isn’t the first time this move has been referenced here and it won’t be the last, as this move has and is teaching me many things.

We announced that we were moving two months before our physical move actually happened. I feel like I didn’t have a summer, as my entire summer consisted of transitioning my heart, my home, my family from one state to another, from one house to another, from one church to another. This isn’t the first time in my life that I have moved, but it was the first time I moved as a mother – and in truth it was the first time in a very long time that I transplanted from a place where my heart had put down roots to another.

I have to say the response of our church that we were leaving was beautiful. People showered us with well wishes, cards of appreciation, and love. On our last Sunday, the elders gathered around our tear-stained faces and prayed for us during worship before we went out to enjoy a final fellowship lunch with our church family. Precious ladies surprised me with a going away party with lots of laughter and the best food and drinks around.  Physical needs were met too. Friends brought boxes, and before long my carport was overflowing with them. Friends watched my kids so I could pack, and even brought food over when my kitchen was in boxes.

In so many ways, I was blessed as my church family cared for us not just spiritually and emotionally, but physically as well. My husband started his job before the girls and I were able to come. I was left with three children and a house to pack. I had needs. People were willing to help. In fact I was asked “what do you need?” more times than I had an answer for. I was grateful, but it didn’t always feel natural to answer the question with something other than “we’re fine.” Instead, in my true American way, I battled thinking that accepting help is admitting weakness. But I began to answer with ways that we could use help; boxes, childcare, food. And, of course, our needs were met. Sometimes the questions were even specific: “can I bring you dinner?” “Can I pick up your kids?” “Do you need anything heavy moved?”

As the actual moving date came closer, I began to receive volunteers for help cleaning after the movers left. This is where my foolish pride drew the line.   Instead of saying, “Yes, I would love that!” I avoided answering specifically. So, on our last day there, as the movers carried out our belongings, I began to deep clean the house by myself. As I was on hands and knees cleaning baseboards, I reflected on this. Why did I struggle so with letting someone else help me clean? It was not because I thought I could do a better job. It was because I was ashamed to let people see my dirt. No matter how much a house is cleaned, when cardboard boxes are stacked, furniture is moved, and rooms emptied out, there is always more dirt than you realize. I knew that. I also knew that I had been so overrun with boxes in the last few weeks I hadn’t cleaned as much as I would have normally. I dreaded people coming in and seeing my dirty floors, my dusty baseboards. I worried what people would think about me. But as I cleaned windows and bathrooms, I began to realize a few things about myself – and about the parallels between my cleaning issues and the bigger issues of sin. 

 

Sin is like dirt. I cleaned my house on a regular basis. I dusted, cleaned toilets, mopped etc. I got the surface dirt regularly, and there were those days that we ‘deep cleaned’ and got the deep dirt that we knew about. But still when the furniture is taken out, when cardboard boxes that have been stacked for weeks are moved, there is dirt built up that we hadn’t thought about, hadn’t noticed. Sin is like that. We can deal with our sins and repent and give them to God regularly, but still there are times when he calls us to ‘move’ and when we do we see that there has been some dirt building up that we hadn’t even noticed, or maybe we had, but we thought it was hidden enough it’d never be seen.  

Hiding our dirt only exhausts us more. I was worn out from the events of the previous weeks. Cleaning the house by myself so that no one discovered my dirt only made me more tired. It took more time and more effort. In the same way, working to keep people from ever discovering that we have weaknesses, struggles, sins, and dirt in our hearts can be exhausting. It takes a lot of energy and effort to make sure all of our words and actions match the image we so badly want to create.

You can’t expect help you never accept: I had offers of help. It was not my friends’ fault that I did not have help. It was mine. In the same way in our lives, if we are so bent on proving that we need nothing, we can’t be upset when we get nothing.   I have heard many people complain when a need was never acknowledged or met within the church body – but so often those people are intentionally on the fringes of the church, never fully engaging, never opening up, never inviting others into their real lives. I didn’t have help because I was too ashamed to accept the help.

Doing it alone isn’t necessary or beneficial: Not only did I miss out on fellowship – to be honest, I forgot a few things. When we are dealing with the dirt and sin in our lives, we need accountability. We need that friend who says I am right here with you, who lovingly reminds you of what needs to be done. There is no friend like Christ (Prov. 17:17), but he has given us His people to walk through this life with; to lovingly and boldly proclaim the gospel to one another – and together to those who are not yet His.

We all have dirt I rejoiced in the church and the way they showed us love, but when it began to get to uncomfortable, I hid. It was foolish really. No one has moved and not had to clean. I have been to friends’ houses when they needed good vacuum or had a ring in the toilet – and it did not make me love them any less! So, why did I think that they would love me less if they knew I had those things? It is the same way in our hearts. We all have sin. (Rom 3:23) We are all messy, and dirty, but we are so busy hiding it from each other that we are left dirty, exhausted, lonely and missing out. We are missing out on seeing glimpses of God’s redemptive love displayed among His children. We are missing out on being encouraged by the fellow believer who has a story to share of God’s grace, we are missing out on pointing someone else to the cross as we share our story of how He is cleaning out our hearts. We are missing out on proclaiming how His strength is displayed in our weakness. We will never be completely without dirt on this earth. But Christ came and died that every dusty corner of our hearts could be wiped clean and made like His. It can be a long and painful process, but He is a faithful God.

Dirt shouldn’t shock the dirty. My friends knew there would be dirt, which is why they offered to help in the first place. They knew because they had experience with dirt. They had experienced smudged windows, food crumbs in the oven, and dusty baseboards of their own. They may not have known the exact places, but they knew there would be some dirt. They wanted to help because they wanted to show love. And you know what? The holy, perfect, without blemish Lord of Lords is not surprised by my dirt. God knows every single bit of dirt in my life and heart, and He loves me still. The dusty corners of my heart aren’t a reason to fear God, they are a reason to rejoice in God’s mercy and grace; a place for Him to show his redemptive power and love.

We have moved now and are settled into our new home. We are embracing a new calling, a new home, and a new church family. I am making an effort to be real, to be open about who I am, even with my struggles, my imperfections, and my dirt. I am a child of God, chosen, loved cherished…

 

even with dusty baseboards.