Last weekend, I mowed. But that may seem inconsequential if I leave out a minor detail...
We have a doberman. A fairly large one. In fact, he's been referred to as a small horse. with large teeth.
I love our large dog. I love that he scares off people from entering the yard. I love that the first question strangers ask when they come onto our porch is "Uh, can he get up here?" and "Is he mean?"
Why I don't know, Strange-Man-on-my-property. Does he need to be? :)
I love that he has taken on the role of sole protector when the girls are out playing by themselves. even if that only means getting all nasty about a bird-of-prey flying overhead. Yes, he is that protective.
I love that he comes inside and hangs out with me on the nights when Jet is away, becoming my snugglebug and Smith&Wesson all in one. I love that he is gentle with all things under 4 feet tall. yet can tear the limbs off of an intruder without breaking a sweat.
He's our own personal army of one. And I love him.
Has that been established enough? Because what I'm about to say causes even me and my love of him to question the wisdom in keeping such a large dog around.
For where there is Large Dog. There is Large Poop.
And now, back to the mowing part.... :)
Everything was going fine in my Keeper of the Grounds moment, until I hit his section of the yard. And then it became like a land mine. of crap.
And suddenly my determined, focused mowing became hesitant. unsure. mysterious. (what will be under this blade of grass, I wonder.)
Progress slowed down because I had to take into consideration that if I made one wrong move. one mistaken step. my shoes would become ...shall we say... "tainted".
So while I'm carefully maneuvering the pushmower, making sure that my feet stay clean, the wheels of the mower plow right through a large mound. slathering the disgusting mess all over one wheel. rather effectively causing the stench (and not to mention nasty view) of dog-mess to accompany me wherever I went.
And as I mumbled under my breath, contemplating what life would be like were we suddenly less one large-dog-with-an-obviously-healthy-digestive-system, God spoke up.
Like he does in moments like these. *rolling my eyes*
And just like...*snap*...that, my inner thoughts take a turn. For I am annoyingly "gifted" with the ability to find a metaphor in all things random. Or at least God is gifted with such metaphors and seemingly finds it necessary to share this particular knowledge with me.
At times I stand in awe of this creative gifting. Other times...like this one... I just roll my eyes and shout heavenward "For real, God?! You're showing me a metaphor about poop? Come on!"
.....
Lovely Little Poop Metaphor:
The church is like this. We are a large body of people. imperfect people who tend to leave large messes in our wake. And it's the *crap* that causes other believers to forget their love of each other, contemplating what church life would be like without a certain individual...or three.
There are people who, though we profess to love them...even if just by Christian association alone... tend to follow us around with their stench and mess. forcing our walk with God to become slower, as we try to avoid stepping in something that would take time to "clean up".
Because really, Smelly Person. I'm doing a job here. Got this bit of property I've been asked to tend by the Owner. He's entrusted this section of land to me and well, you're in the way. Yeah, I know you came with the property and all. But...well, it'd be so much faster. so much easier. and most assuredly less raunchy if you and your crap would just vacate the premises and let me work in peace.
In this attitude, it's so easy to completely forget that those Stinky, Inconvenient People are a part of the Army of God. the very people God has positioned to keep us company. to have our back when predators come near. to go to war with us when danger is at hand.
Forgetting all these things and instead getting distracted by the mound of stench that's on the bottom of our once-pristine shoe.
Bottom line of this analogy? I need to remember that shit happens. even in the church. and most assuredly in my own life.
And my job is to adopt the point of view of the Father. the Keeper of the Garden that uses our smelly, dirty mess like much-needed fertilizer. causing me to grow.
...
Anyway. :)
I'm willing to bet that when I first mentioned mowing, large Dog, and large poop...you didn't see this one coming. I know I didn't. but eh, that's the fun we "get" to have when relating to The man. He's a funny one, that Jesus.
