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Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

June 9, 2013 By Michelle

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: You Have to Admit You’re Dirty to Get Clean

We hauled two dressers from my grandparents’ house out to Nebraska when we moved back in 2001. They had sat in their basement for decades. My grandfather stored tools in them — rough files, ragged saws, hammers, nails, screwdrivers. The dressers were chipped and scuffed, but I could see in a glance that they were solid and heavy and had good bones.

One weekend I finally decided to paint the dressers white. My number one design trick is paint — white paint, to be specific. Often Brad will come home from work and find a piece of furniture suddenly morphed white – “Oh, the coffee table … you painted it,” he’ll observe. He’s gotten used to this over the years.

Painting these two dressers took all day, even with Rowan’s “help.” I hadn’t considered the dark finish when I embarked on the refurbishing, hadn’t considered it would take four coats to cover every drawer and every surface of both dressers.

Later, after the dressers had dried and Brad and I had grunted them back upstairs to the bedroom, I stood back to admire my handiwork. The detailing on the drawers popped in the creamy white. The finish shone beneath the lamp’s glow.

But when I opened the drawers to put my shorts and shirts and socks back inside, I noticed the grime. Gritty dust had settled between the cracks and crevices during the sanding. A tangled cobweb fluttered beneath the back leg. The interior was ugly and stained, especially juxtaposed against the gleaming white.

The metaphor struck close to home. As I rubbed a damp towel along the bottom and into the corners of each drawer, I realized this is exactly what I do in my own life, too. I whitewash nicks and scuffs. I coat my surface with slick white.

I even whitewash the self I present to God. I pray my polite prayers; I do my good deeds; I read my Bible passages. But do I trust him enough to present the layers beneath that shiny exterior?

Do I allow him to see the real me, with the gritty, cobwebbed corners, the dark underbelly?

Or do I coat myself pretty and pretend, even to him, that I am clean?

He sees it anyway, of course.

Slowly I’m learning that the exterior isn’t nearly enough. It’s fine to start there, but I can’t be satisfied with outward acts of faith – the volunteer work; the worship; the bible study.

No, the process must stretch beyond mere acts, beyond scraping the surface, into the dark recesses and dingy corners of my own self. It’s not a place I want to spend much time – it’s ugly in there, cold and dark. Yet the dark insides are part of who I am, too. And I can’t expect to be washed clean if I don’t admit I’m dirty in the first place.

Surely you desire truth in the inner parts;
You teach me wisdom in the inmost place.
Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness;
Let the bones you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins,
And blot out all my iniquity.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Psalm 51: 6-10

 An edited repost from the archives.

Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word. If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information.

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Filed Under: honesty, metaphor, sin, trust, Use It on Monday Tagged With: Hear It on Sunday Use It on Monday, trusting God

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a Triple Type A, “make it happen” (my dad’s favorite mantra) striver and achiever (I’m a 3 on the Enneagram, which tells you everything you need to know), but these days my striving looks more like sitting in silence on a park bench, my dog at my feet, as I slowly learn to let go of the false selves that have formed my identity for decades and lean toward uncovering who God created me to be.

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