The Grimey Truth

I cleaned my bathroom today. It was disgusting. I cried more than 1/2 the time I was cleaning it. I never thought my bathroom would be that gross. I hate dirty bathrooms. They gross me out, yet when I don't have my mom telling me to clean my bathroom every week, I overlook it. Every time I do finally clean it, I resolve to then keep it up by repeating the cleansing ritual weekly. But when the next week comes, it doesn't look that bad so I skip it. Before you know it, I can't even remember the last time I cleaned it, and it's so grotesque that I somehow manage to avoid looking at it, even while I use it. Or I just skip it all together and use the hall bath.

Almost as soon as I start cleaning the shower I start crying. Not a teardrop or two - weaping, sobbing, nearing hysterics. Why? Because this is what I've let my life become. The filth is the sin I let creap into my life by being selfish, lazy, and prideful. I sob because cleaning it means I have to look at it. I sob because I know that one cleaning isn't going to wipe it all away. There are nasties with too much of a stronghold now - in corners to deep to reach in the first round. It will take countless consistent cleanings for it to be completely clean again.

I've been avoiding God the same way I've been avoiding my bathroom. I want to be close to Him, but I'm ashamed. I don't want to feel that, so I don't look at it. I know this is true because I find myslef hating the silence once again - which means I'm afraid of what I might hear in the silence. So I cover it up. I flip on the tv "just for some background noise". And I numb myself.

God, thank you for your mercy. Teach me to once again bask in the silence - where I hear your voice.