It started way back in the early 1900’s, deep down where no one could see it. A complex network of sewer pipe was installed beneath my house with the sole purpose of keeping things concealed. Disgusting things. Things we all try to keep hidden (you know what I mean).

And for the first one hundred and fourteen years, it worked great.

Over time, however, the system grew increasingly weak, and finally collapsed without warning. The sewer lines could no longer withstand the pressure, and the very things it was responsible to keep contained started coming to the surface.

With no idea how bad the situation had become underground, I went downstairs and discovered raw sewage mushrooming out of a hole in the basement floor. If I’m honest, it was a bit startling. Neither plungers nor prayers could stop it, so I did the only thing a clear-thinking Christian could do:

I called a guy on the phone and told him I’d give him money to come and deal with my mess.   

A Dirty-Rotten Job:

When he got there, the plumber started jamming things into that hole and pulling out stuff that I don’t want to talk about. By the end of his 30-minute visit, my houseguest had not only smelled my refuse, but had stood in it, and knelt in it as well. It was on his pants…his hands…

This just wasn’t supposed to happen, and I felt terrible for the guy. Knowing that he’d go home smelling like my toilet made me feel sorry for his whole family. Some things aren’t meant to be shared, and sewage is one of them. You never understand how bad things have gotten until innocent people start getting splattered with your excrement.

…this stuff doesn’t wash off easily

For the next week and a half, plumbers, excavators, and sewer repair professionals converged upon my home. Each one taking their turn at fixing the rancid mess I was accountable for. This was a first for me. I never realized how much work it can take, how expensive it would get, and how many people could be affected by an uncontrolled black-water problem.

A Long-Standing Concern:

The whole charade reminded me of that oft quoted statement Jesus made in Luke 6:45: “What you say flows from whatever’s in your heart”. Our minds are a system of inter-connected channels, buried deep down where nobody can see. Thoughts are pouring into those channels constantly, many of which no one needs to know about. They’re offensive & unwelcome, so you naturally keep them hidden.

The problems come, however, not because we keep them hidden, but because we keep them around. The heart is designed to function more like a sewer system than a septic tank. The waste of unholy thoughts & feelings are meant to be flushed away, not stored. Sin doesn’t wash clean on its own, and in due time, that spiritual sediment starts backing up, looking for another way out.

It usually comes to the surface in a friendly tone of voice, made to look like a humble admission (E.g. “Hey, I just want to confess that I’ve been secretly hating you for the last 114 years”). And you finally feel a whole lot better after unclogging your septic heart, but what about the unsuspecting sap on the receiving end of your “confessional”? No matter how pretty you tried to make it sound, they just got splattered with the sludge that came out. Now they get to go home with the foul reality of what you’ve been thinking about them for so long. And believe me, this stuff doesn’t wash off easily.

A Way Better Technique:

Flushing your mind of the filth that your heart can so easily generate is a quick and easy way to serve your Christian family, and it’s a service we all deserve. Any child of God can “Capture rebellious thoughts and teach them to obey Christ” (II Cor.10:5). Learning to combat sinful feelings, silly offenses, and personal grudges is a skill not beyond your reach. It’s actually your responsibility.

The heart is designed to function like a sewer system

Every toilet is built with a flush-handle. Using it with regularity keeps everybody happy. Likewise with the heart. Once everyone in the household of God commits to doing that, we’ll all be able to enjoy the fresh air of fellowship again.

If that isn’t happening, you might be the one to blame for the stench.

A Deeply Buried Issue:

Well, it was a rough month at the Thomson’s house, but in the end, we all survived the putrid affair: The workers got paid in full, the pipes got buried once more, and my biffy flushes like it should.

And we all hope this never, ever happens again.

Ever.