Urinals, Dustpans, and Worship

Photo by dsydow
at morguefile.com

Those who know me well might have figured out I have some germophobe tendencies. Needless to say, one part of self-employment I don't relish is scrubbing the urinal. But someone has to do it. So I pulled on my gloves, grabbed the spray bottle of disinfectant, and attacked the restrooms yesterday.

For the most part, I enjoyed myself. I had tucked my MP3 player into my pocket, and the soothing melodies of hymns filled my heart with peace, as I offered up a quick little prayer, "God, help me find the dustpan." What germophobe would want to pick up dirt from a public restroom without a dustpan?

I wonder if that's how Jesus felt when He left His holy abode in heaven for this sin-cursed world. But He didn't don gloves or spray disinfectant from a safe distance. He deliberately took my germs on Himself. He became sick for me so that I could be made whole.

Why the almighty God would do such a thing for me, I will never be able to tell. Words fail me, but my heart whispers, "Thank You, Jesus. Thank You."

For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. 2 Corinthians 5:21