Soapy bubbles swirl down the shower drain along with all the dirt and dead skin cells. Down the drain is where all the filth flows. I scrub and scour and rub so hard my skin looks like it’s been beaten with a Brillo pad. Thick puffs of steam smoke out from behind the shower curtain, and my head leans against the wall, resigned. Emotionally exhausted, eyes gazing at all the filthy water whirling down the drain and I feel as if I’ve scrubbed some weight off. Hot water prickles my skin like a thousand Jacuzzi jets and the sound of water cascading off the shower head and down the wall calms me. I never want to leave this shower. It’s been a dirty morning.
I accidentally puked all over Johnson today. Verbal vomit spewed out of my mouth like an unmanned fire hose. I feel guilty about it, but he’s a good friend and knows me well. All bottled up, I exploded like a two liter of Diet Coke crammed with Mentos. Boom. Big time.
Johnson knew something was wrong before church. “How are you doing?” he asked. I wasn’t ready to answer. I sat through the service and couldn’t concentrate on anything. I needed to talk. Jumbled, convoluted fractions of thoughts raced through my head and I felt incapable of forming simple sentences. Somehow all this frustration needed to get loosed. The service ended and I pulled Johnson aside, “Do you have five minutes you could give me?” We walked to my room and I struggled to catch my breath. Slow down, just breathe.
I’m being loaded into an airplane and while everyone is reading Sky Mall, clipping their seat belts, and jamming their too big carry-ons in the overhead compartment, a flight attendant patiently goes over all those endless procedures in case of emergency. Nobody listens. I never board a flight expecting emergency, but you really never know. Accidents happen, the oxygen masks drop, and what do you do? Well, what you’re supposed to do is fasten the oxygen mask to your own face first. Why? Because if you pass out, how can you help the next person?
Somehow, I’ve forgotten this. Panic festers like black mold and I’m busy trying to fix everyone else, yet I forget me. I’m passing out and I’m too occupied helping everyone to realize it. Gasping for air, I wonder why I’m unable to help anyone else. Justin, remember to grab your oxygen mask. Fix it securely.
And so I begin to breathe…
Somehow Johnson took all my verbal vomit and prettied it up, a beautiful bow tied on a terribly stale Christmas gift. “Maybe God is using all these frustrations, overwhelming feelings and ugliness to prepare you for the next eleven months,” he calmly replied. How Holy Spirit is that? It was just what I needed to hear, right when I needed to hear it. As I vented and spewed all my bitterness, ugly feelings, frustration and basically unloaded both barrels on him, a peace came over me. It’s probably not healthy that I’ve let so much dirt build up. I was reeking up the room and everyone could smell it. If you stink, you should probably shower. It’s just so simple.
All this grime has been an anchor in my life and I need to speak up more. I’m weighed down by the burden of always being needed, and somewhere in that mix I forgot that I desperately need other people. I’m not any further along or more mature than anyone else. I’m just as messed up inside as everyone else. Feeling like a dead battery, I’ve realized that at times I need to hibernate and recharge. I need to rest more, pray harder, and seek Him even more desperately. Is there any end going deeper into the Father’s heart? I doubt it.
Tonight, I’m taking a break, a time out just for me. I need it so bad. I’ve been watching stupid, silly animation videos tonight and I can’t help but laugh and shrug off so many of the problems that have been building up. God made humor. And I’m dwelling in His awesomeness right now. These videos are just a pancake of fun and ridiculousness wrapped up in a sushi roll of cool. I can’t help but smile. Check them out if you like. And yes, I’m a bit strange. Sorry in advance.
