The Spaghetti Stain of Sanctification
I’m not a perfectionist or type-A about how my household is run. I tend to have what my sister and I call “secret shame” in my closets where all my mess stays cleverly hidden behind doors. As long I don’t see the mess, the mess doesn’t bother me quite so much and certainly doesn’t keep me up at night in distress. After our recent home renovation, I noticed myself being more particular about how and when my house was cleaned and what it looked like. I don’t know if it was because we put so much money into our house (I typically don’t care so much about money either…probably should) or if I was simply feeling worn out from all the chaos of the construction that had me feeling totally anal about the state of our home.
One Sunday morning, amidst the usual and overly noisy turmoil of getting our three beautiful children ready for church I noticed a spaghetti red stain smack dab in the middle of my brand new bright white window shades. These curtains were a splurge. Our most favorite spot in the kitchen to sit (my writing spot) is positioned right by a beautiful bay window. These curtains, although more than we needed spend, were worth the money because of how much we use this special area of our kitchen. My gasp was heard by the whole downstairs as my eyes made visual contact with the hideous dinner stain that was staring back at me. I became furious, then used my fury to turn into a crazy person with a Norwex cloth who wouldn’t stop scrubbing the crimson spot out of the pure white shades. As silly as it sounds, the stain felt like a major injustice.
I was thinking things like, ‘I bet rich people don’t stain like this on their nice things” or “nothing I have will ever be as well-kept as other people.” I was consumed with disappointment and regrettably, a touch of grief as I obsessed about this tiny imperfection throughout an entire worship service. Suddenly everyone else appeared better off than I was. I’m not proud to say my thoughts went to shallow places. I’m also not proud of how I treated my family amid all my frantic cleaning. I was short-tempered, irritated, and frankly, unkind to them. I wanted to make something that’d been ruined perfect again, no matter who stood in my way.
The whole spaghetti scenario revealed quite a few glaring blind spots in my life. I was surprised how quickly I began comparing my possessions to those of others around me. One tiny fleck of red sauce gave me a deep longing for what others had within moments of its discovery. How fickle my heart is! Instead of being thankful for the Tide pen and Norwex cloth that miraculously made the stain disappear, I was grumbling about how nothing we have ever stays nice. I even uttered the dreaded phrase, “this is why we can’t have nice things.”
I’ve been reflecting on how everything in this world really does turn to dust and fades away. Nothing is perfect. No object could ever give us the eternal peace that our savior can (does and will for eternity!). I can’t put my hope in any physical item because it will eventually become worn out, crusty, and eventually will fade away. I believed for a time that I’d be happier if my new shades weren’t tainted. I was on the hunt for the long-lasting joy that doesn’t come from material things, and yet it was far too easy for me to believe I was the exception to the rule. A bigger house might make me happy forever or this new pair of shoes really will make me more beautiful such that I won’t feel insecure ever again. My sinful heart latches on to these lies with relaxed ease. I need experiences like this one to be reminded that the things on this side of heaven will pass away. Nothing can save me in this life or the next but Jesus alone.
It’s humbling to realize I was being so selfish and petty. I don’t like admitting that I was idolizing my window shades and basking in the newness of our renovation in an idolizing way that was consuming my heart. Sanctification is hard! My sinful heart wants what it wants and it’s often discouraging to see up close how far I have left to go in my walk with Lord; BUT I’m also thankful that something so silly revealed where my heart needed tweaking. God was gracious to me when He revealed what my heart was resting in, even if it stung as the Holy spirit helped me figure it out.
Now when I pull down my shade, I’m not surprised when I see a new spot or imperfection. I try to prepare myself for a pang of disappointment, while also putting the disappointment in its appropriate and momentary place. My prayer is that this tiny experience will have a big impact on my heart.
