Pressure Washing - Guest Post

(Today I welcome the lovely Dee-Dee Warren from the blog, DeeDee's: I Have no Greater Joy. Her post below is an excellent example of how a little bit of sin can add up to a whole lot of ugly.)

Pressure Washing

My husband and son have recently pressured-washed our home. It is a white vinyl house with green shudders. Because of the water-restrictions in our city for the last year and half (or so), and because we needed to clean it before the restrictions, the white house was GREEN. I forgot to take pictures. That probably is a good thing. I do not think I really would want proof of how bad it looked.


But can I just tell you how good it looks now? Clean. White. Fresh. Washed.


So, how did they clean it? First, they used bleach. Lots of it. Then they used the pressure-washers to wash off all of the mold/mildew/green stuff. On one side of our house, it is actually three stories high. The son climbed that ladder. He is a trooper and has no fear. It was good that I was not home that day. I am not sure I could have watched him on that high ladder, OR the husband on the roof of the front porch washing the front of the house. They did such a good job. Bleach, high pressure with water, and lots of hard work. Wonderful results.


So, how does it get there? How does it get that bad? Negligence. Just a little bit at a time. Over an extended period of time. Not really noticeable for a while. And then all of a sudden – it is real bad. Really obvious.


Just like we are.


Little sins are usually not very noticeable. And then one day you see the results. How did it get this bad? Just a little “yes” that should have been a “no” – one at a time – over an extended period of time. All of a sudden it is a REAL problem.


Now, it (our sin) is easier to take care of on an on-going basis. But I am afraid that does not always happen. And if neglected – then it is time for a ‘pressure-washing’ of our own.


Apply the Word. Lots of it. Dive in and stay there till you have answers. Acknowledge the sin for what it is. Then allow the power of the Holy Spirit to help you cleanse the whole being.


"Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." (Ps 139:23-24)


"If we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (I John 1:9)


"Come now, and let us reason together, saith Jehovah: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. " (Isaiah 1:18)


Confession is good for the soul.


Cleansing is good. For the outside of a home. For the inside of the soul.

Blessings,
DeeDee

Evil Twin

(While these words are my own and result from personal events that occurred on October 9, 2008, I feel compelled to add that I recently read chapter three of Joann Weaver’s “Having a Mary Spirit” and was inspired by many concepts she presented. And once again, I'm not sure what is up with the formatting...perhaps Blogger has an evil twin too)

When I was a little girl, my mom and grandmother watched soap operas. I remember watching along with them as I sat in the living room and played with my “Little People” play sets. Once, a heroine went missing, was presumed dead, and then came home just days later. At first, her family rejoiced over her miraculous return, but as time went on they discovered she was different.

Months later the secret behind her mysterious behavior was revealed. The heroine had never returned. She was being held prisoner in an old farm house while her long lost twin sister assumed her identity. (Insert dramatic music here). The. Evil. Twin. The sibling who everyone forgot existed stole her beloved sister’s persona and began to live her life.

Often, I feel as though I have an evil twin. Only she doesn’t live in another town, she lives inside my body. I’m not writing about demonic possession, merely about the battle of good and evil

that rages in us all. Sometimes I feel as if there are two of me…one who is charming and pleasant, and another who is down right spiteful.

The “good me,” the part of me who I want to refer to as the real me, does her best to keep the evil twin at bay. She tries, but truth be known, she’s terribly weak. And that evil twin, well she’s quite crafty.

Yesterday morning it was as if this evil twin of mine bonked me over the head, drug me into a basement and then took over my life. She barked at my sweet children and criticized Pumpkindoodle for not walking fast enough. She even growled at Pickle when he whined for his morning cup of milk.

The entire morning was spent finding fault with others. Angry at life, everyone alive was deemed guilty by association. Through clenched teeth she bellowed that the day was going to be dedicated to cleaning and organization. It was made clear that anyone who didn’t agree with what she had in mind better get out of the way and remain silent. She was not in the mood for protests. I shuddered and averted my eyes as I heard her mutter that she was not even in the mood to be a mother.

Deep breath. I wish, oh how I wish I really was chained up in a basement watching the events of that day play before my eyes on a TV monitor. How I wish that I could write that it wasn’t really me, that it truly was an evil twin and that I had no say in the matter. To watch someone else hurt my loved ones would be horrifying. Realizing that it is I who am responsible for the pain-filled eyes that return my icy stares…that is devastation.

While still in evil twin mode, I decided that baking a cake would bring back peace to my conflicted home. And if not, well at least it would make me feel better. I went to the dollar store and as the clerk rang up the price of the mix and frosting, she mentioned her love for cake. Then I heard a familiar sound—the voice of the “good me.” All traces of the sarcasm laced dialect that I spoke with earlier that morning disappeared. It was my voice that sincerely asked, “How long will you be working today? I’ll bring you a slice.”

I left the store promising to return with a piece of cake. The woman was delighted. I fought back tears as I headed to my car and gently kissed each of my children as I strapped them into their safety seats.

It was as if God reminded me that although there is a hideously depraved woman living inside my shell, she’s not in there alone. Jesus also lives within me. In fact, there really isn’t a “good” me. The only good that comes from this body of mine are the pieces of me that I’ve submitted to Christ. He is far more powerful than any brand of evil. And He will be victorious in refining me…evicting that deranged double of mine for once and for all. Dear Lord, how I wish that day would soon come.

Romans 7:14-27 (New Living Translation)

14 So the trouble is not with the law, for it is spiritual and good. The trouble is with me, for I am all too human, a slave to sin. 15 I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. 16 But if I know that what I am doing is wrong, this shows that I agree that the law is good. 17 So I am not the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it.

18 And I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t. 19 I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway. 20 But if I do what I don’t want to do, I am not really the one doing wrong; it is sin living in me that does it.

21 I have discovered this principle of life—that when I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong. 22 I love God’s law with all my heart. 23 But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me. 24 Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death? 25 Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord. So you see how it is: In my mind I really want to obey God’s law, but because of my sinful nature I am a slave to sin.

Above verse was copied and pasted from Bible Gateway.

Cleansing Blood

Last night, The Professor and I watched the movie, There Will be Blood. It focused on the bestial life of fictional oilman Daniel Plainview who lived in Texas during the early 20^th century. I am neither recommending the movie, nor am I advising it not be watched. Movie reviewing is not my forte. But there were some scenes that saddened, sickened, and shocked me to the point that I just need to “talk” about the flick. Not so much the scenes, but the truth that pressed against my heart as I watched.

To say that there were just a few characters that made some bad choices would be a gross understatement. But, there were two characters whose choices graphically depicted the depravity of man. Those characters were Plainview, who was driven by greed, hatred, and emptiness; and a preacher named Eli, a false prophet/healer who built his ministry on legalism, lies, and fear.

The movie’s first scenes showed Plainview mining for silver. While Plainview’s ruthlessness was established early, so was his humanity. He adopted a baby boy whose father was killed while working in one of Plainview’s mines. He showed concern toward his workers. His loneliness was also evident. And though the writers never delved deeply into his past, he was obviously a broken man…a broken man whose heart could not be filled by the same money that filled his pockets. A broken man who could not prevent accidents from happening, men from dying, or his son from being injured.

Plainview was a broken man and he knew it. But he didn’t know how to fix himself. Worse yet, for a long time, he didn’t know that he could not fix himself. The last scene in the movie showed him as drunken, angry, deranged, and shattered soul.

Throughout the movie, there were plenty opportunities for the preacher, Eli, to have walked beside Plainview and share with him the beautiful news of the One who was sent to heal the broken hearted. He didn’t. I don't think he knew it himself. Instead, he tried to make a name for himself off of Plainview’s success. Eli wanted money, fame, and more members to fill the pews in his church. In fact, one of the scenes I found most disturbing was when Plainview was coerced into being baptized as part of a land deal.

While Plainview and Eli are fictional characters, there are so many real men and women like them. So many hurting. So many being deceived. So many deceiving. So many who know no hope. And, so many withholding hope or offering false hope. That’s why I told The Professor that this had to have been one of the most heart-breaking movies I have ever seen. It reminded me that life without Christ is void. It has no meaning. Without Christ, victory is an illusion and failure wrecks a soul.

At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life. Titus 3:3-8 (NIV)

If Only I Could Eat my Words

I love object lessons. Scouring parenting magazines and Web sources for creative methods to cultivate learning became a pastime shortly after Pumpkindoodle’s birth. One of my favorite illustrations involves toothpaste. Each participant is given a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a paper plate and one ooey-gooey mission: squeeze the tube dry. After the tubes are flattened, participants receive a tooth pick and are given the daunting task of putting the tooth paste back into the tube. It’s an impossible feat. The lesson? Words are like toothpaste. Once they’re piped out, they cannot return.

Last month, the Professor read through student evaluations from the previous semester. While many students expressed positive feelings about his classes and astuteness, a fair share of malevolent comments remained. The comments were not of the constructive nature, rather petulant, sharp toned, and intended to wound.

My fighter instincts shot into action. I wanted to find those surly students and give them a lesson on manners. I wanted them to understand that the Professor gives his all to his classes and deserves better. I wanted to take away the pained expression worn by my tender husband. I did not want to think about Dr. W. “That was different,” I told myself. “No it wasn’t,” said a voice deep within, "and you need to deal with it."

The image of the kind, shy man with an unkempt appearance and heart for God’s creation stamped my mind. When I was a college sophomore I regarded Dr. W. as an adversary of sorts. He stood between me and a higher G.P.A. (which by the way is meaningless once that diploma is grasped). I needed a science credit and heard that fun times were to be had in environmental biology. But I didn’t get into Dr. Fun’s class. Instead, the mild manner professor who asked tough questions was to instruct me about grassy terrain and various species of algae living in local lakes.

The fact that Dr. W. was so impassioned about his subject infuriated me. Did he honestly think that this communication major who was, in her own mind, destined to be the next Diane Sawyer cared about oats, goats, and banana pokes? I found his teaching methods difficult and dismissed it as his problem. “If he was a good teacher, I’d certainly understand the material,” I rationed.

When time came for me to submit my student evaluation I knew that my grade for the class was a C. This anal-retentive over-achiever felt appalled. Anger bubbled over as I checked the Most Definitely Agree box next to the statement Professor has distracting mannerisms. I followed up the multiple choice portion with terse comments. In my immature mind I accepted no responsibility for my C. Yes, I missed a lot of classes, “but had he not been so boring I would have shown up more often.” No, I didn’t take good notes, “but if he were a better professor I would have.” On and on I rationalized and blamed my woes on Dr. W. Had I even had a smudge of proof, I would have blamed him for every ill in society including poverty, blizzards, and Shepherd’s Pie. At the time, I didn’t feel the slightest guilt regarding my shallow words. “After all, he needs this feedback to better his performance, it’s his job to do well,” I told my friend Joy who shared similar beliefs about the class. Now, I am ashamed.

Oh if only I could go back. If only I could erase those harsh words and replace them with encouragement and constructive suggestions. I don’t know how Dr. W. felt when he read my comments and the disparaging remarks offered by other students, but I cannot image he was edified. In fact, knowing his gentle demeanor, I’d wager that his expression was similar to that of my Professor. A kicked in the gut, stabbed in the back look of anguish, surprise, and confusion. Oh what a powerful weapon is a No. 2 pencil.

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. – Ephesians 4: 29, 31.