Mount O’Laundry
The laundry pile on my bed constantly annoys me. It sits and laughs at my inability to make it disappear. The sun gleams in through our sheer white curtains and falls elegantly on a wrinkled mass of Original Tide scented clutter. I don’t have a laundry room, so I endlessly move ginormous heaps of clothes from the dryer onto our bed. Occasionally I fold an entire load right when it comes out, but if I’m honest, that only happens about once a year when my feelings of hatred for it make me extra eager. The loads add up on our bed one after another, like a math equation gone bad. I loathe folding laundry. I also loathe math. I have friends who say it is a relief for them because they feel productive and organized, but I just want to close my eyes so it will disappear all by itself. It never does.
Every morning as I go on my daily sock hunt. I jostle and move the massive pile of clothes around in order to find two matching socks. Truthfully, I usually settle for two that are the same brand, matching or not, so I can end the torture. I push and pull all the heavy clothes around searching for necessary items of clothing swearing quietly under my breath. Then comes the nightly ritual of moving the clothes I promised myself I would fold that day back into the overflowing plastic bins that look like they are going to collapse at any second. I always feel like a failure as I wrestle with them. It’s like the one simple task I have got overlooked, again. I hide the ugly truth in my room from visitors. “Nothing to see in here,” I say as I quickly close the door to my room. Sometimes I manage to get a few pieces of clothes put away, but in only a few short hours freshly cleaned clothes have landed right back it the same spot. It’s a hateful cycle of chore torture.
One day last week I was doing the dreaded “laundry shuffle” (not to be confused with any actual fun dance) and it occurred to me how the sin in my life all too often resembles that dumb pile of laundry. I have piles of sin in my heart that I shuffle around. Sometimes I make progress, eliminating one or two sinful habits that plague my heart, only to shuffle things around again to uncover another missing sin that is hiding like one of my Nike ankle socks.
I don’t enjoy the chore of folding the laundry, but I also don’t enjoy having the pile encroaching into my personal space. No matter how I feel about it, eventually I have to deal with it. It’s the same with my sin. I don’t want it suffocating my heart or stifling my faith, but I also don’t really want to deal with it. It’s tedious to do that and like folding a thousand size five t-shirts, I have to take the time to focus on the actual job at hand in order to make any progress.
Thankfully, God is there to help me reorganize my priorities and make new discoveries about how to eliminate sin. He knows the sin I carry is uncomfortable and promises to not only help take it away, but fully make it disappear by His work on the cross. I’m not left to carry the heavy load alone and that is a welcomed relief for my weary heart. I’m still going to have to face my pile of sins as God sanctifies me, but I can be confident that I do not have to tackle the chore alone. The Holy Spirit is working regardless of whether I feel Him or not.
Comparing sin with laundry is a rough metaphor and it only goes so far. The two are only so similar, but one thing I know is my struggle with both will always be an active part of my life. More than anything I’m grateful for the grace I get from God because of Christ. I’m also thankful for the patience my husband shows me even as the mountain of laundry continues to stake a claim on our bed. Laundry is hard and dealing with my sin is harder, but no matter what God can handle it all.
