Recent travels through the friendly skies, between stress and exhaustion, left little to do but calculate and recalculate arrival times and connecting flights. The rest was just the cluttered attic residing between my ears.

Stepping over chairs I may fix one day or boxes I probably should go through, I reached the dusty corners, filled with cobwebs and who knows what else. Grabbing a broom, I swept things that hid in the shadows into the light of a flickering bulb.

When you sweep a floor, it’s hard to get all the dirt. It looks clean. But in a certain light, there’s a streak left behind by broom strokes, and there’s always a little line of dirt that just won’t get into the dustpan. The problem is not that there is still dirt, it’s that you’ve exposed it to the light of day.

My pile of dust is made up of wrongs and perceived wrongs, some by others, most of my own making. And I’m consumed by the specks I just can’t seem to get rid of.

The dirt grows from a dusting, to a pile, to a mountain.
Covering me in its shadow.

If you have a hurt still lying in the corners, please forgive me. I’m reaching as far as I can.

Then the Lord reminded me:
… whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure… think about such things. Philippians 4:8

But kicked-up dust floats and recollects back into corners. It just won’t come clean. And I’m consumed once more.

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitudes of your minds; and to put on a new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. Ephesians 4:22-24

One day, there will be nothing left to clean.
Not because I cleaned it, but
the Master of the house finished what I could not.

Until then, I’m sweeping as fast as I can.

 

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