The Deep Cleanse
“But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay, some for honor and some for dishonor. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from the latter (dishonor), he will be a vessel for honor, sanctified and useful for the Master, prepared for every good work” (2 Timothy 2:20-21).
Two and a half years ago, my house blew up. Through a series of unplanned and hasty events, the propane tank didn’t get filled, and the radiator pipes froze and burst. I had started a job in another city but decided to return to my home in a smaller town for various reasons only to suddenly discover that I could not return. The house was unlivable in the dead of winter with no heat. I walked in, observed the horror, and left for good. The house still stood, but it may as well have been gone and buried in terms of usefulness.
Over the last few years, I’ve walked back through those rooms many times - sorting, packing, lamenting, and stressing. It’s like walking into the time-capsule of things you’d rather forget. Nothing unchanged. The dishes are still where we left them. The photos still hang on the wall. All of the books, videos, hobby paraphernalia, even our clothing left behind - frozen in time with the burst pipes. After two years, the amount of items remaining that are of any value have diminished. Even the things that once held value have lost their luster beneath layers of dust and cobwebs. What used to be a house of warmth and useful things, has sat empty for two years now, full of every item a person would need to live in it again - except the things that matter. There’s utensils, dishes, blankets, towels, sheets, beds, sofas, TVs, spices in the cupboard - everything. But there is no warmth.
Finally, as I work to clean the house out to sell, the above verse hits a little differently than usual. I see now an entire house of dishonor, unusable for any good work. I am in the process of completing step one of its cleansing - tossing the trash, sorting the keepable, and clearing out the dust. The new buyer will complete the other steps to make it a home again, useable and honorable. But right now, it is without doubt a big fat mess of dishonored dirt-covered chaos. Throwing items into the large roll-off container outside has been therapeutic but far from easy. After my first afternoon of tossing trash, I was so sore I could hardly move.
I realize I’m working outside of the context of these verses, but I’m sure you can make the leap to the spiritual parallels. I fear to ask how many of us have all the fig leaves and trinkets of religion yet remain unsanctified, dishonorable, not useful for any good work. “If anyone cleanses himself from the latter”, if anyone cleanses himself from - gets rid of, goes through the trouble of sorting and tossing, sweeping, and sanctifying - then, he can become a vessel of honor, useful again.
We carry twin daggers (against fear and doubt) in the Faith: Salvation and Sanctification. They are two separate things and worth the trouble of learning. While salvation comes from God alone, we are often prompted and plainly told in Scripture to work on our sanctification - airing out our sins, cleaning the internal house of our lives, hearts, and minds. Where salvation requires humility and grace as its daily bread, sanctification demands obedience and self-control. Together, like a right and left hand, they can work wonders in a person’s life. But like sorting and tossing the trash of an entire physical house, sifting through the chaos of our internal vessels is painful.
Spiritually, we can grow stiff and sore, weary with what appears to be an endless project of combing through layers of dirt and time only to find yet another stone in heart or mind that must be removed, carried out, tossed. It can be agonizing and fearful work. Few choose to do it. It’s much easier (for a time) to pretend, to fake it, to keep up the shiny appearances while still shadowing our dishonorable trinkets within. Of course, even that way becomes wearisome in the end, but it seems the easier way at the start. Repaint the house, plant a pretty flower garden, wash the cars, meticulously edge the lawn - people will think the outside is indicative of the inside. When really, our external efforts so often merely mask what we don’t want people to see within. This is especially true in religious circles.
A similar picture as described in scripture is when Jesus calls the Pharisees “whitewashed tombs” — pretty on the outside, rotting inside. (Heck, my external facade wasn’t even very good!) I have regrettably been there, but that is the world’s very mantra. The world operates on facades and appearances, smoke and mirrors, false identities and fig leaves. What we presently see in the news and in so many celebrity profiles is the truth that intimacy with these facades frequently or eventually reveals the stench of death within - ad nauseam. And it’s as if the world never learns. One day all of these facades will tumble down.
Well, as I’ve often retorted, never let the world make you believe for a second that Christians are the only ‘hypocrites’. This was a sentiment pounded into the ground and across keyboards throughout the 90s and 2000s, but one only need read some headlines to discover that hypocrites are alive and well in the world too. Pride is an equal opportunity employer: it doesn’t care what your stated-ideals are or what you believe. We all live in glass houses beneath the gaze of God.
We are tasked with cleansing these earthly, fleshly temples. Are you doing that work? Or just keeping up the facade?
Until next time, may the Lord bless and keep you.
