A Lenten Reflection
Getting Muddy
Growing up in an area that experiences regular droughts, the city I lived in did everything they could to gather as much rain water as possible. Parks were built all over town that were nothing more than big water basins...grassy most of the time, but when a rain would fall, they would fill and let the precious resource drain back into the ground.
Such a park was built only around the block from my home. And in it was a fenced off drainage area that had turned into a marsh...where there were frogs. Lots and lots of frogs. (While I'm the sort of girl who hates spiders and is squeamish around snakes, frogs are a different matter altogether...frogs and toads are cool.)
I was in the first year of Jr. High (7th grade) when during a late summer rainy day (rather rare for there) a friend and I decided we were going to catch some of those frogs. Not to hurt them...but to bring some to my parents yard.... so we took a big bucket my Dad had, and went to the park. We had discovered a loose segment of fencing some weeks back, and we shimmied under it...getting rather muddy. Then, standing in marsh (and never having the reasonable wonder if there were snakes in said marsh) we caught baby frogs. (Or maybe they were toads...I couldn't tell the difference, and still can't generally.) The little froggies were tiny, about a digit of one's pinkie finger in length...and there were LOTS. As we splashed all about the marsh, catching frogs by the dozens and dozens, with the rain softly falling upon us, we got muddier...and muddier....and muddier.
When we had caught all we wanted, we went back out and headed the short walk to my home...sure that Mom, an avid gardener, was going to be *thrilled* with all the frogs for her garden! Imagine all the bad bugs they'd eat! She was going to love it!
She met us on the walk-way coming up to the house....not looking pleased.
It wasn't the frogs that phased her...those were fine.
It was the fact that we thought we were going into her new home, covered in mud. Looking at each other, my friend and I realized just how filthy we had gotten.
We were a mess. A happy mess, but a mess all the same.
Mom, ever practical, hosed us off in the front yard. Thankfully, summers are warm there, so the cold water felt nice....but she didn't stop until the water ran clear off of us.
Only then were we given towels and told to dry off (outside) and go in and change clothes.
Our Christian walk can get rather muddy at times, don't you think? We have the best of intentions to do the will of God, but we get distracted by things we think are fun or important, and we fall into them...getting the world's dirt all over us. And often, until we are faced with Scripture, or the convicting voice of the Holy Spirit, we never realize what state we've gotten ourselves into.
"No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. We shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. But the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes are in the airing cupboard. The only fatal thing is to lose one’s temper and give it up. It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present to us: it is the very sign of His presence."- C.S. Lewis, from "The Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis, Volume II."
It is God that shows us the state of dirt and disrepair we are in, and it is God who helps us up again after we've fallen and sets us on our way. And it will be God, who when we arrive, dirty and tattered, to our final home with Him, will clean us up and show us to our home. (I even expect He might have the same indulgent expression of amusement and exasperation combined that my Mother wore as she hosed us off.)
If you find yourself mired in the mud of the world, of staying in sin, prayerfully ask the Lord to help you up, and continue on with your walk with Jesus. God does not fault us for our stumbles...He has mercy and compassion upon us. He knows our nature and our struggles....and He is waiting to clean us up.
On towards the Cross,
-Beth Haynes Butler
PS....descendants of those same frogs are still living in my Mother's beautiful garden. :)
Getting Muddy
Growing up in an area that experiences regular droughts, the city I lived in did everything they could to gather as much rain water as possible. Parks were built all over town that were nothing more than big water basins...grassy most of the time, but when a rain would fall, they would fill and let the precious resource drain back into the ground.
Such a park was built only around the block from my home. And in it was a fenced off drainage area that had turned into a marsh...where there were frogs. Lots and lots of frogs. (While I'm the sort of girl who hates spiders and is squeamish around snakes, frogs are a different matter altogether...frogs and toads are cool.)
I was in the first year of Jr. High (7th grade) when during a late summer rainy day (rather rare for there) a friend and I decided we were going to catch some of those frogs. Not to hurt them...but to bring some to my parents yard.... so we took a big bucket my Dad had, and went to the park. We had discovered a loose segment of fencing some weeks back, and we shimmied under it...getting rather muddy. Then, standing in marsh (and never having the reasonable wonder if there were snakes in said marsh) we caught baby frogs. (Or maybe they were toads...I couldn't tell the difference, and still can't generally.) The little froggies were tiny, about a digit of one's pinkie finger in length...and there were LOTS. As we splashed all about the marsh, catching frogs by the dozens and dozens, with the rain softly falling upon us, we got muddier...and muddier....and muddier.
When we had caught all we wanted, we went back out and headed the short walk to my home...sure that Mom, an avid gardener, was going to be *thrilled* with all the frogs for her garden! Imagine all the bad bugs they'd eat! She was going to love it!
She met us on the walk-way coming up to the house....not looking pleased.
It wasn't the frogs that phased her...those were fine.
It was the fact that we thought we were going into her new home, covered in mud. Looking at each other, my friend and I realized just how filthy we had gotten.
We were a mess. A happy mess, but a mess all the same.
Mom, ever practical, hosed us off in the front yard. Thankfully, summers are warm there, so the cold water felt nice....but she didn't stop until the water ran clear off of us.
Only then were we given towels and told to dry off (outside) and go in and change clothes.
Our Christian walk can get rather muddy at times, don't you think? We have the best of intentions to do the will of God, but we get distracted by things we think are fun or important, and we fall into them...getting the world's dirt all over us. And often, until we are faced with Scripture, or the convicting voice of the Holy Spirit, we never realize what state we've gotten ourselves into.
"No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. We shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. But the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes are in the airing cupboard. The only fatal thing is to lose one’s temper and give it up. It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present to us: it is the very sign of His presence."- C.S. Lewis, from "The Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis, Volume II."
It is God that shows us the state of dirt and disrepair we are in, and it is God who helps us up again after we've fallen and sets us on our way. And it will be God, who when we arrive, dirty and tattered, to our final home with Him, will clean us up and show us to our home. (I even expect He might have the same indulgent expression of amusement and exasperation combined that my Mother wore as she hosed us off.)
If you find yourself mired in the mud of the world, of staying in sin, prayerfully ask the Lord to help you up, and continue on with your walk with Jesus. God does not fault us for our stumbles...He has mercy and compassion upon us. He knows our nature and our struggles....and He is waiting to clean us up.
On towards the Cross,
-Beth Haynes Butler
PS....descendants of those same frogs are still living in my Mother's beautiful garden. :)
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