It’s that time of year again. Arguably, past that time of year. But who’s counting? It’s that happy time of year when my inner perfectionist is at stark odds with my inner procrastinator, and who will win is anyone’s guess.
This year, however, I have extra motivation. There is a constant spiritual conflict in this house. There is me, praying and worshiping. There is my roommate, coming along for the ride when he has something to ask for. And everywhere else, all over the house, are remnants of his past: old bikini calendars, playboy and maxim magazines, some videos of a decidedly adult nature. Everywhere I look, I find more of this stuff. It’s overwhelming. And since it isn’t mine, there’s not much I can do about it. Most of it, I’ve been expressly told to keep. And the rest, I gave up asking about.
And yet, I have been feeling God tell me to clean THOROUGHLY – every drawer and cabinet, every shelf. Not just organized, but washed. and the items in it washed also. Walls and ceilings too (cause floors are a given aren’t they?). Everything washed clean. It’s a massive undertaking. But that’s not all. When a room is clean – genuinely clean – I’m to spend an hour (at the minimum) in prayer over that particular room, and then anoint it and sanctify it as God’s space. There are some specific guidelines I’m getting about the anointing – for instance, I am supposed to put oil on the 4 corners of the room (ceiling and floor), any windows or doors, etc. I know nothing about anointing things, so I have no idea if that’s significant. Anyone? But I do have some oil though, so I’m game.
So I sort of put God on the spot when He was telling me to do this. “Jesus if You want this house as Yours, YOU have to do the work in my roommate’s heart to get rid of all of this stuff. I’m not going to hound him, I’m going to love him. You have to make the changes.” Sure enough, on our next target run, my roommate said, “we should get an extra bin for all those calendars on the dining room table.” I should clarify here: our dining room table is made out of wood, and on top of it is a protective pad. Under the pad, on top of the table, is a collection of old swimsuit calendars and posters. Not exactly the mental image I want when I sit down to a meal, but I digress. The real point here is that Jesus came through. In the span of about a day. He did a work in my roommate’s heart, and we have taken one baby step forward in creating a clean, sanctified space. WOOHOO!!!!!!
Bring on the rest of the house.