You know... being my age and having gone through some of the things I've been through, it's become a rare thing for me to be afraid. It takes an awful lot to scare me anymore. Come to think of it, I can't think of the last time I was actually afraid... that was, until just a day or two ago.
When people come clean... I mean when they really open up and get transparent about things that scare them or things that they become fearful over, when the light of logic, common sense, and some genuine adult reasoning come to the front, that fearful thing usually takes on a much less menacing demeanor. One of FDR's most famous quotes came in response to the Japanese attack on our Naval forces at Pearl Harbor in 1941. He said, "We have nothing to feah but feah itself"... (no, that's NOT a misspelling... I was writing in his famous accent)
My whole point of bringing up this famous quote is to point out that FDR never had to deal with what strikes fear into my own heart... what scared me the other day. I'm not sure he would have said what he said if he had. You see... he never ventured into my garage!!!
Good heavens, I was squeezing through the garage the other day, turning sideways so I could pass between the old hand me down antique projection type big screen TV that doesn't work and a stack of plastic storage tubs, (readily available in various sizes and shapes at your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart store), when I first noticed the uneasiness creeping in. I'm pretty sure one of the tubs... actually is was the gray tub third from the top on the fourth stack from the left, in the second row behind the plastic wading pool, moved and made a funny noise. No, I didn't just imagine it. I heard an audible, distinguishable sound. I just can't tell you what it was or what it sounded like.
I have no idea exactly WHEN our garage got completely away from us... no recollection of the exact date it suddenly spiralled out of control. One day it was fine... and then one day it wasn't.
Somewhere between the Christmas tubs... (they're all stacked against the wall by the washer and dryer) and picnic accessories, (that haven't been used since the Carter administration) are the scary stacks of boxes and tubs that contain God only knows what.
As I stood out in relative safety of the driveway, peering back into the menacing darkness that engulfed my garage, I began to formulate a plan on HOW to get this mess cleaned up. My garage doors aren't big enough for me to get my pickup through, so I'm pretty sure a backhoe or a front end loader won't fit either. I thought about calling in an air strike, but I can't afford to replace the roof that would be damaged in the process. If I could get the city to loan me one of their fire trucks, I could bring the hose through the back door, through the sun room, into the dining room... open the door that leads out into the garage... turn the pump up to "jet blast" and wash everything out into the driveway and then bring in the backhoe or loader... but I don't think they'll loan me one.
So after much serious contemplation and planning, I have come to the painful conclusion that my only recourse is to start at one end and work my way to the other... one piece at a time.
There will, no doubt, be several different piles of stuff once it's sorted.
There's the pile that definitely goes to the dumpster. One pile that goes to Goodwill. One pile that we'll probably save, because we ARE going to have a garage sale one of these days. One pile that somebody, somewhere will PROBABLY need SOMEDAY. And one pile that will have to be sorted BEFORE it can be returned to it's rightful place IN THE GARAGE!
And as I stood there thinking about all this... the fear began to subside. It was quickly replaced with a definable sense of dread and angst... but at least the fear itself was going away.
And as I stood there formulating my plan of attack, it began to dawn on me... Our lives, or should I say our hearts are a lot like my garage. We rock along, living our lives, and then one day we wake up and our hearts are so full of clutter... so full of STUFF... so full of ideas, notions, emotions, and feelings that we suddenly seem to have lost sight of what's really important.
A heart full of love is a good thing. A heart full of grace is a wonderful thing. A heart full of music or poetry is a great thing. A heart full of compassion is an awesome thing. but there's a huge difference between a heart that's full and a heart that's cluttered. Because when a heart is cluttered, it becomes very difficult for us to find Jesus in amongst all the clutter... and it becomes impossible for anyone on the outside to look in and SEE Him in there.
So whether we like it or not, just like our garages, there comes a time in all our lives when we need to bite the bullet, roll up our sleeves and set about the tedious task of getting rid of all the clutter that gathers in our hearts.
And whether we like it or not, if our hearts are so full of clutter that Jesus doesn't even have enough room to sit down, relax, and make Himself at home, it's time to MAKE Him some room by cleaning out the unnecessary junk.
Now about my garage... I'm going to get started as soon as I can find my broom... it's out there in the garage, somewhere... I THINK... but then again, a cluttered heart is a lot more scary than any garage, isn't it? Hey, It's Just A Thought.
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