Plague of Dust

As I mentioned in a recent post (Under Construction), my landlord at home has started a little construction project in our basement/garage area that has turned into a much bigger ordeal than he imagined. As a result, both of our dwellings have been inundated with what I am now affectionately referring to as "the plague of dust." His initial communication to me that it would be "a little messy" in the garage for "a couple of days" has turned out to be the understatement of the year (I would say century, but I'm trying to curb my dramatic tendencies).

There is dust on the walls, on the upholstery of the furniture, in the cedar closet, under the bathroom sink, on oven burners...you get the picture - it's on pretty much every square inch of the living space. And when you get to the section of the garage where old golf clubs and Christmas decorations are stored, well...let's just say, my landlord has a lot of cleaning to do.

Which brings me to the thought process that this plague of dust has stirred up in my mind and heart. As I mentioned on the earlier post, it has been beyond frustrating to come home to a new layer of dust each night. I've done a couple of passes of initial dusting just so I can put my feet on the coffee table without turning my slippers into dust mops, but there's always a new layer to greet me within a day or two. I can't really communicate in writing how frustrated I have felt to have my home invaded by dust. Dust seems like such a small thing...so seemingly harmless. But like snow, when there is enough of it together, it can create a pretty big mess. And the only way for my home to ultimately be restored to a relatively dust-free state is for me to go through every room in the house and pick up every single thing in that room and either wipe off or vacuum off the dust.

As I've pondered this pending clean-up, I started wondering...does God feel some form of this sadness as He looks at the beauty that He created and sees all of the ways that our original beauty is marred by the dustiness of our choices to live life apart from His care and love? Is the grief Jesus feels as He longs for us to receive the cleansing water of His love almost more than He can bear? Am I willing to invite Him into the dusty mess of my life and give Him access to every room of my heart that needs His healing, transforming work?

Nothing in my hand I bring,
simply to the cross I cling;
naked, come to thee for dress;
helpless, look to thee for grace;
foul, I to the fountain fly;
wash me, Savior, or I die.
-Rock of Ages hymn lyrics