During my junior year of college at Virginia Tech, I shared an apartment with three other dudes I considered to be some of my best friends in the world. And they certainly were. Not only did we live together, but we also spent social time together, frequently talked with one another, and even visited each other’s families on occasion during school breaks. I loved these guys and I was incredibly thankful God had brought them into my life during my first few years as a Christian.
All that being said, some of them had a few behavioral patterns that clashed a bit with my ideal way of living. I’m not talking about personality flaws or anything like that…I’m just referring to the general lack of concern for the overall cleanliness of our place. You see, I have a tendency to be somewhat OCD when it comes to tidiness.
Yes, I recognize that this is an abnormal trait for an American male (especially during the college years), but I have no qualms about waving my cleanliness banner high and proud in the face of anyone who might challenge it with shallow mockery. And as you might have deduced by now, some of those unapologetic challengers were the men I chose to share living space with those many years ago.
The specific area of our apartment that drew my attention on a regular basis was our kitchen. Now I’m not going to lie and say I was perfect at cleaning every single dish that I used as soon as I was done with it, but I was intentional about making sure my dirty dishes would not pile up because of continuing neglect. My roommates did not share this same passion when it came to the dishes in the sink, nor for that matter, the trashcan that was nestled snuggly in the corner next to the fridge. They would frequently allow the garbage to build up in the can so much, it would overflow down onto the open floor space where there was plenty of room for things to pile up.
The most noteworthy occasion of this happened in late October and ran all the way up through Christmas break. That’s right, there was trash piled up in our kitchen for over two months. It all started with a communal lazy streak of allowing it to build for about two or three weeks, but then quickly morphed into an agreed upon insurmountable obstacle none of us wished to face. The act of creating a mini-landfill in the corner became a kind of contest to see how long we could actually go without (as we put it) “allowing the garbage to win.” This was the only reason I allowed this preposterous idea to proceed…because it turned into a competition. What can I say? I’m a dude and I love to compete.
Day after day, week after week, we continued to add to the growing hill of rubbish that became known as “Mt. Trashmore.” It got to the point that when we wanted to throw something away, we wouldn’t even have to step into the kitchen anymore. We would simply walk past the room’s entryway and blindly chuck our trash into the corner without looking. You might think this is completely gross (and you’re probably right), but in a way, it was also completely awesome.
Well, Christmas break finally arrived and we submitted. Everybody joined in and we all disposed of the legendary Mt. Trashmore as a team. It took nearly an hour to do so because the discarded pumpkin we had previously purchased for Halloween was rotted out on the bottom, and when we lifted it up, its base turned to liquid and splashed down all over the kitchen floor leaving a huge orange mess. It wasn’t a pretty cleanup, but we did it.
When I think about or retell this story, the parallel that comes to my mind is the way people sometimes think about themselves. We all have so much garbage in our lives we allow to build up over time. It grows and grows to the point that it looks almost impossible to clean up and even scary to go near.
Here’s the typical line of thinking: because of all this horrible clutter clogged up in my soul, I am not worthy of love, acceptance, or forgiveness. If Christ (who promises love, acceptance, and forgiveness) were to enter into a relationship with me, I would need to remove all of the crap in my life before I could take a step toward him. And because of the trash hill’s size, I am overwhelmed with the very idea of addressing it.
This belief is not uncommon. I have talked with so many people who have asked the question, “Why would God want to love and forgive me? I’m such a bad person.” Even in today’s self-esteem driven culture, people are very much in the business of beating themselves up and neglecting God because of their past moral or spiritual failures.
Our responsibility as mission-minded believers is to identify this false belief in the lives of others and replace it with the truth of the gospel. Never once does God ask us to “get your life together and then I’ll be willing to accept you.” We are not asked to be clean before we can be forgiven. The good news of Scripture tells us,
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. (Isaiah 1:18)
and,
For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight… (Rom. 3:20, ESV)
God meets us right where we are at (piled up garbage and all) and exclaims to us, “Even though you are dirty and sinful, I will make you as white as the snow. You cannot work to be justified in my sight by doing good things. A relationship with me comes through faith alone by my grace.”
This is the true message that must be communicated to anyone and everyone we know. Once they begin to see the extreme contrast between the truth of the gospel and their own false beliefs, they will be willing to hand their trash-laden lives over to God by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Communicate this news well and communicate it often because it is the greatest message history has ever known. It’s not people’s own responsibility to take the trash out. It’s God’s.
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