Our Dirty Mess

A few years ago, I visited the apartment of a some college guys from my church.

To be honest, I was shocked. I’d never seen anything dirtier or messier. The cupboards were empty and the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. The apartment smelled bad. There wasn’t adequate lighting and it was dark in there.

I tried to mask what I was feeling; I tried to act as if this was all normal to me.

Then one of the guys said, “Sit down PB! Make yourself comfortable.”

I looked at the couch. It was covered with crumbs and stains and miscellaneous articles of clothing (dirty of course).

On the inside, I was having a mild panic attack.

On the outside, I smiled, moved a moist sock from the seat to the armrest—and sat down.

I was there for about 35 minutes. I have no recollection of what we talked about.

Here’s what I do remember: feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but I was kinda worried that I would get dirty or catch something.

A few weeks later, one of the guys asked me what I thought of his apartment.

For some reason, I answered honestly:

“I was uncomfortable. I thought it was dirty and messy. It stressed me out.”

He laughed. Then he said something I’ll never forget:

“PB, your house stresses me out and makes me uncomfortable.”

I was shocked. “Why?” I asked in disbelief.

He explained, “Because everything is neat and clean and perfect—everything’s in just the right spot. I’m worried that I will mess something up or get your perfect house dirty. It’s stressful. I don’t want to sit down. I don’t want to move. It just stresses me out. When I leave, it’s a relief because I don’t have to worry about messing up your perfect place anymore.”

I could see that he wasn’t being sarcastic or retaliating because of what I said about his place. He was being completely honest.

Wow. My clean house stresses someone out.

Over the years, I’ve thought a lot about that honest conversation we had.

I’m still embarrassed about the “I’m too good for this dirty mess” attitude I had about that apartment.

And I’m thankful God doesn’t have that attitude toward us.

Think about it.

Jesus wasn’t born in a royal palace or in a top-notch hospital.

Nope. He was born in stable, a manger… a barn.

God was perfectly comfortable entering our dirty mess.

“While they were in Bethlehem, the time came for Mary to have the baby, and she gave birth to her first son. Because there were no rooms left in the inn, she wrapped the baby with pieces of cloth and laid him in a feeding trough.” (Luke 2.6, 7 NCV)

This is an important truth to always remember:

NO MATTER HOW MUCH OF A DIRTY MESS YOUR LIFE IS, GOD IS HAPPY TO SHOW UP AND MAKE HIS HOME THERE.

Yes, God is perfectly comfortable entering our dirty mess.