Got dust?

Whenever I harness all my courage for beyond-the-usual house-cleaning, a whole nation of dust bunnies rises up, chanting, “Be sure your sin will find you out” (thank you, Numbers 32:23).

            It happened for me recently when the smoke from massive forest fires finally crawled out of our valley and I retired the breathing mask I’d had to use even to go to the mail box. Feeling energized and virtuous, I asked my husband to help me pull the mattress off the bed and the bedside stands away from the wall. Just as I predicted, I got a “Why? Nobody looks there!” response until he saw that, indeed, silent invaders were lounging in all their gray glory. As an asthmatic, I want those sniff-and-wheeze triggers gone.  Armed with the vacuum cleaner hose, I got down on my knees to suck up the worst of them.

            I’m not one of those perfectionist housekeepers who weekly dusts the top of the refrigerator. That’s when I would say, “Why? Nobody looks there.” Okay, every few months I remove the coupon basket, the extra potholders, and the cat treats to give it a swipe.

            I thought about dust recently when I came across a scribbled note that I just couldn’t toss.  Dr. Hubert Harriman, of World Gospel Mission, spoke at my church in February 2004 with an appeal to personal holiness.  I jotted this quote from him: “The problem in our churches, he said, is that we just want to be dusted, not cleansed of sin.” In other words, we don’t want God moving around the furniture and showing us the neglected or dusty parts of our spiritual walks. We’d rather avoid the blazing, exposing light of His holiness.

            Yet spiritual deep-cleaning is exactly how God grows us in spirit and in service.

            One of those who knew and practiced that was a Scottish preacher named Robert Murray McCheyne (1813-1843). Like David Brainerd (last week’s blog) he died young, only 30, of typhus. But what a life. He taught himself the Greek alphabet at age four. At 23 he became pastor of St. Peter’s Church of Dundee, Scotland. At 24 he went to Palestine to research how to best evangelize the Jews. In his late twenties, a revival that began in his church spread through Scotland.

            It was later said of him, “It is not how long you live, but how you live that counts.”

            The renowned English preacher Charles Spurgeon, in Lectures to My Students (Zondervan, 1962, 7-8), included this powerful quote from McCheyne: “Remember, you are God’s sword, His instrument—I trust a chosen vessel unto Him to bear His name.  In great measure, according to the purity and perfection of the instrument, will be the success.  It is not great talent God blesses so much as the likeness to Christ.  A holy minister is an awful weapon in the hand of God.”           

            When God wants to use us in His kingdom, His standards are high. You don’t get away with “Why? Nobody looks there.” God sees it all: the slimy secret sins, grubby grudges, icky-apathy, and crud-crusted cravings.

            Ready to deep-clean, spiritually? The best position is on your knees. It was for McCheyne, for whom the prayer closet was a refuge of fellowship, holiness, and intercession. The hidden life prepared him for his brief yet dynamic public life of serving God.