The Question of Cleaning

I cleaned my car today. Not your ordinary “throw away the garbage and put away the stuff that doesn’t go in the car” kind of clean. It was the “get your hands dirty, rip your clothes, and clean every nook and cranny that you didn’t even know existed” kind. Lazy Boy (my car) surprised me with how much trash I found, and how much grime I wiped, much like finally cleaning out a junk drawer that you swore wasn’t that bad, but when you finally found the time to do it you found a never-ending supply of, well, junk.

I discovered an ungodly amount of candy wrappers (Grace…), an aerosol can of some sort of anti-static spray, an IZZE bottle, and the rubber liner for the driver’s cup holder. For some reason I didn’t quite expect the amount of trash and dirt that I found. I knew that it was dirty, but thought it just needed a little clean-up, vacuuming, and wiping down. As it turned out, my sister and I spent the better part of two hours finishing the job.

As I vacuumed out the trunk, my head lowered in an attempt to reach the very back, one foot in the air, and the humming sound of the vacuum in my ear, I though about the significance of cleaning. God talks about cleanliness quite a bit in the Bible. He places a high value on clean sacrifices and clean hearts. It was a prerequisite for worship (For the priests and the Levites had purified themselves together; all of them were clean. So they slaughtered the Passover lamb for all the returned exiles, for their fellow priests, and for themselves. Ez. 6:20), and David cried out to the Lord to cleanse his heart when he realized his sin before his holy God (Create in me a clean heart, oh God, and renew a right spirit within me. Ps. 51:10). God even commanded the Israelites to eat only clean food, and went on to define what was clean and what was not.

I’ve heard a lot about the importance of being clean. Up until today, though, I somehow pictured the cleaning of my heart and soul as “my” job. Sure, Christ made it possible to be clean by dying on the cross, but I took every command a little farther and understood it to mean that I held the primary responsibility for the cleaning.

I had moved on to wiping down the doorways when a question popped into my brain: “whose job is it to clean out this car?” Is this a trick question? Me, I guess; in other words, the owner. “Does the car clean itself?” Of course not! “Can it clean itself?” Not by my knowledge. Is there anything the car can do to make itself clean, inside or out? No. It is done entirely by an external force.

“Paige, whose responsibility is it to cleanse you?” Pause. Not mine, Lord, but yours. Had my previous attempts at cleansing myself ever worked or brought me peace? Did I ever find redemption in self-effort and independence? How freeing to relinquish this long held notion that there was something I could do to make myself clean. How paradoxically delightful and humbling to hold out my completely empty hands to my Lord, knowing that He had everything to give to me.

I fully realized then and there that it is Christ that does it all. There is nothing I can do to aid Him. Absolutely nothing. I need only abide, rest, and wait. Nothing else. When He finds dirt, He will remove it. When He finds garbage, He will throw it away. When He discovers something He can use, He will cultivate it. I can’t even try to feel sorrow for my sin—He will give that to me when He wants it. I can do nothing, but Christ in me does everything: changing, pruning, convicting, refreshing, loving, teaching, giving, praying, strengthening—all things. He does these in me as I do absolutely nothing.

Whose responsibility is it to clean out your car?

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser.

Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.

Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you.

Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”—John 15:1-5