**Author’s Note–This is a true story; all lessons learned here will not be forgotten. Consequently, my tub no longer has a drain toggle!
Originally published February 3, 2017
Worry, fear, doubt, dread, and panic, exploded this week, an atomic bomb in my mind detonated. “Woe is me! Why does this happen on my watch, and whatever will I ever do?” (I imagine myself a little Scarlet O’Hara-esque here.) I promise you, I freaked out in the calmest way possible but freaked out nonetheless.
On Monday, my bathtub began to drain at an impossibly slow rate. The house is old, the pipes are ancient, and the septic?–only God knows. The storm clouds of worry unleashed a downpour in my mind when I thought of the possible issues.
Dog baths, furry dog baths after she rolled in sewage mud while working in the yard, was the first “why on earth, all of a sudden” thought to cross my mind. I was certain I just had a host of muddy dog fur clogging the drain; I assumed I could fix it, no problem.
I thought the storm of worry was awful until fear paralyzed me when I realized I had been working around the overflow drain in the yard. What if I smashed the cheap plastic pipe with my heavy rocks and the entire septic backed up? A poopy situation. Fear splintered into doubt as I wondered what on earth I would do in that situation? I’m not equipped for this. I move rocks, not clogs. “Why do I always make a mess of life?”
Dread, the tidal wave of fear and anxiety overflowed as reality took hold. “I am going to have to do this, this yucky mess. I have to fix this. There is no one, just me.”
Full-blown panic drowned me along with my fear, doubt, and dread in the final explosive thought to my mind. There are no words from a drowning girl, only gurgles as she sinks to the bottom of despair.
Tuesday found me busy all day as worry and dread grew. Wednesday, I had to make an emergency trip to Omaha, Nebraska. A day on the road allowed me time to formulate a plan of attack set for execution on Thursday morning while my non-draining tub sat idle. (Please, insert the word “disgusting” here with me. Go ahead; it’s ok.)
I played out the task at hand repeatedly, knew what tools I would need, and set out to conquer mid-morning Thursday. Starting with the clog theory, I dismantled the drain and began to fish for the fur to no avail. My tool hit a hard mass and would not go through the pipe. Can I tell you (again) the worry that overcame me? Grabbing a more reliable tool to fish down the drain, I hit the very same wall.
By this point, I found it necessary to fess up and involve Himself via tele. Upon Himself’s instructions, I checked out the pipes in the basement, prepared to dismantle the plumbing. Overwhelmed to nearly the point of tears, I realized digging up the septic was my only way out (the downhill progression of my mental state snowballed). Then Himself, trying to tell me another way to take the drain apart, asked, “does the tub have a drain toggle to stop it?”
Pause, long pause.
Do I really need to continue the rest of the story? Every emotion, worry, panic, fear, dread, and doubt was all for not because Captain Obvious here forgot to see the simplistic.
I feel like the whole situation is me. I wrap myself in everything other than the simplicity of Christ. When, in an instant, He reaches into my overwhelmed life and pushes the drain toggle down. Can’t you just picture me drowning? Arms flailing, fighting to stay afloat, choking on the water as I sink while God reaches down and pulls the drain plug to reveal I’m in two inches of water.
In Him, the tub of my life drained, emptied in a hurry, so He can clean the slime off my surface and fill me with His presence. His yoke is an empty tub; mine is full of the stagnant dirty water of a clogged mind.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me–watch how I do it. Learn that the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11:28-30 MSG
Seriously.
This week taught me that I prefer an empty tub, literally and spiritually. A vessel full of yuck leaves no room; no room means that I am all me with no Christ. No Christ leads to panic, fear, worry, doubt, dread, and the list that never ends until I toggle the lever and drain the tub. Simply letting go to let Him drain my yuck, my worry, fear, doubt, panic, dread, and the like leaves me open to Him. When I am open to Him, He works wonders.
I over-complicate. My human mind reacts. I over process and forget the simplicity of the cross. I try to complicate forgiveness. I try to make love harder than it truly is. More than those, I forget that His word is Truth, the only Truth, and all He asks is that I simply believe.
Flip the switch, drain the tub, and turn on the filling faucet of Christ to overflowing!
Loved this Carol!!