Glad I’m Not Domesticated

I gradually drifted toward wakefulness the other morning. I rubbed my eyes, and looked at the clock, and rubbed them again. This was later than I expected.

I stumbled out the bedroom door, and the cat was standing next to her food dish, yowling for my attention. The food bowl was empty, and she is used to being fed earlier than this, thank you very much.

Later, she stood at the back door, watching the birds on the patio, and yowled again. I’d like to go out now, and chase some birds, please. She gave up after I’d ignored her for a while, and wandered down the hall toward her potty box.

A thought crossed my mind. “Aren’t you glad you’re not domesticated.” My mind went through some quick acrobatics in response: Me? Domesticated? Hah!

And then, wait. There was a season when I couldn’t feed myself. I had to “hold on!” until Sunday, when the pastor would spoon-feed me the same basic, elementary doctrines that I’d been spoon fed last year.

There was a season when I needed someone else to let me go outside once in a while. Unless I had assurances from senior Christians, I couldn’t trust that it was OK to go to things outside the church organization and church programs.

And there was a season when I needed someone else to change my potty box, or maybe change my diapers, because – even as an adult Christian – I couldn’t deal with my sins and failures myself. I always needed someone to point out to me, “Hey, that’s really not right,” or I always needed to have people pray for me to get me past some stumbling point. (Don’t go too far: prayer for one another is wonderful. But to always need others to pray for you to get past any trial is not a sign of health or maturity!)

So I stood there, watching my cat saunter down the hall towards the potty box that I’d cleaned out for her, I realized, not all that long ago, that was me. I had actually spent a good portion of my life domesticated, needing others to take care of every little thing for my life, as a human, as a man, and as a Christian.

Suddenly humbled, I nodded my head gratefully. “Yes, Sir. Yes, I am very grateful I’m not domesticated. Or at least not as domesticated as I used to be.”

The Church of the Septic Tank

I had a strange dream the other night. It was about septic tanks. Yeah. Poop tanks. Ewww. 

The dream began with a toilet. The toilet served a comfortable facility where a bunch of Americans gather together in God’s glory. But even American gloryhounds need to poop once in a while.

Then the dream shifted to the septic tank below that toilet. That was interesting.

The tank was full; needed emptying. We considered several alternatives:

• Dig a hole somewhere for putting the poop. We rejected that messy idea.
• Put in a second tank next to the main tank, and link the two. That’s not a solution.
• Pump out the tank. And that’s what we did.

After the tank was pumped, I was invited to hold a picnic in the empty tank. Say what?

Ewwww. That was still dark, still completely stinky! And besides, somebody’s hindquarters were above, beginning to re-fill the tank. Those places where the crap has been stored are not places to relax and spend our free time. No! That’s still stinky!

This afternoon, I realized that this is a metaphor, a lesson.

There are some places that are getting tons of crap removed from them. That’s absolutely happening in the church. There’s been a lot of crap in a number of places, and currently, a lot of that is being removed. It’s not done yet, but it’s getting there.

But when the crap is removed, those places that held the crap will still not be good places for a picnic, still not a good place to relax and enjoy yourself.

In the news far more than the revolution going on in the church is the uncovering of so much crap in the political world that it’s scary. A friend of mine says it's like a Russian novel full of twists and turns. But there’s a lot of the crap that’s getting sucked out of the system.

But when the crap is removed, those places that held the crap will still not be good places for a picnic, still not a good place to relax and enjoy yourself.

OK, what does that mean in practical terms?

Not a flying clue. I have no pretty little bow to wrap on this yet. But I have some candidates for how we can respond.

• We can ignore the cleaning out of the septic tanks and go on about our lives. I think this would be a poor choice.

• We can scrub the septic tanks out with prayer. This is likely to be uncomfortable, but then the prayer to get them emptied has been uncomfortable, too. We’re used to that.

• We can move the poop-hole so the best view in the house isn’t somebody’s bare butt unleashing another load of diarrhea on us. That will likely also involve some awkward and embarrassing prayer.

• I don’t know what this means, but it strikes me that we might need to upgrade our gathering place from a septic tank, where the crap is collected and hidden out of view. Maybe it’s time to put in a sewer system, where the crap still happens (because, be honest: that has to happen!!), but it’s taken away and made into something useful. What an interesting idea. I wonder what it means.

• We can choose a different place for a picnic. I know we’ve been invited to center our lives on the septic tank for a while. But we don’t need to accept every invitation we’ve been given.

I’ll bet you two rolls of Charmin that we won’t find the answers in this context. But if you felt like taking these to prayer, if you considered sharing some of this (even if you don’t share the source) with your prayer group, I’ll bet we’d see some good things happen.

My children were born for such a time as this.

I’ve been reflecting on some of what Scripture says about the nature of believers’ words in difficult times. Well, our words should be this way in all times, really, but I’ve been thinking about them in difficult times.

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” [2Corinthians 1:3,4]

“But he who prophesies speaks edification and exhortation and comfort to men.” [1Corinthians 14:3]

This phrase has been ringing through my spirit the last couple of weeks, as hysteria about the Covid virus “pandemic” has been spreading through the news, through our civilization:

“My children were born for such a time as this.”

We’ve been comforted by our Heavenly Father, who happens to be the King of the Universe. We’ve had so much comfort heaped upon us that we have enough to comfort every person around us.

More than that, we have His own words in our heart and in our mouth, carrying his comfort, carrying his creative power as we speak them into the tumult and cacophony of this world.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” [2 Timothy 1:7]

It’s harder to speak with people when we’re all quarantined in our homes. It takes more intentional effort to check on the folks around us, to speak peace into their world. It’s worth the effort.

Speak the power of love. Speak the power of sound thinking. It’s a beautiful way to derail the spirit of fear that’s trying desperately to run rampant.

You were born for such a time as this.