Scrubbed Clean

We were driving to a wedding.
We were driving through my favorite place of Amish buggies and farmland.
As we passed a farm, driving slowly behind other cars, I saw a pile of wood on a side yard.
I looked closely at the three Amish men who were standing over the pile.

Upon further inspection, I noticed three little boys standing near them.
The excitement on their faces gave it away.
What looked like just a pile of wood was much more than that.
This pile of wood was going to be a swing set.

The three Amish men were getting ready to build it.
This would not be the kind of swing set you see on most playgrounds.
This was not going to have a plastic slide.
This was going to be an old-fashioned wooden swing set.

I have seen swing sets in Amish school yards.
I have seen tall metal frames on which hang multiple swings.
This swing set was going to be made of wood and made by hand.
As we drove slowly by, I could see the little boys walking back and forth, near but not too near.

I imagined that they would help in some way.
I imagined their father and perhaps uncles, would be teaching them as they went along.
I imagined how hard the anticipation would be for a little child.
I imagined what it would be like to wait for a swing set.

We drove further down the road and saw many cars parked in a gravel lot.
As we passed, I saw even more Amish buggies parked along the back.
The buggies were in neat rows with the horses facing a field.
I assumed they were all parked there for an auction.

I knew my assumption was wrong when I saw the cemetery.
Someone had died.
I saw black dresses and bonnets.
I saw black suits.

I thought about what it means to stand alongside someone.
Whether it is helping to build a swing set or being present at a funeral, it matters.
There is waiting involved.
Waiting for the swing set to be built; waiting until they see their loved one again.

I saw two different kinds of waiting within miles of each other.
Each type of waiting is hard in and of itself.
In this fallen world, we groan in the waiting.
We would like things to be instantaneous but they are not and it is hard.

I checked my phone as I was sitting in the passenger seat and saw the news reports.
Violence in a city I love.
Violence in a place that means so much to my oldest son.
He spent three years of his life there while he was in law school.

I saw the quaint streets of Charlottesville were littered with ugliness and hate.
I saw places I walked that now looked so foreign to me.
I saw people at their worst.
I saw the effects of sin in this fallen world.

Hate because of skin color.
Hate because of entitlement and elitism.
Hate because of a twisted ideology.
Hate because the god of this world holds so many captive.

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.
(John 13:43,35)

My heart hurt.
The ravages of sin were spewed all over the streets.
There were shouts when there should have been listening ears.
There was hate instead of the love that Jesus commanded.

Love one another.
Love one another.
We are not listening.
We are not obeying our Lord Jesus.

A simple story in a sermon helped me understand.
A little boy, playing outside, comes in filthy and caked with mud.
I hardly recognize you, his mom says lovingly.
She does indeed recognize him.

Underneath that caked on mud is her little boy.
His mom puts him in the tub and scrubs and scrubs.
The scrubbing hurts, as she removes the mud that is caked on his skin.
The little boy gets out of the tub and his mom wraps him in a towel; he is clean.

So it will be at the end of all things.
This earth and sky, the planets and galaxies will be scrubbed clean.
They will not be remade.
They will be redeemed.

All the grime of sin that spews into our streets will be gone.
It will be scrubbed away by the One who created everything and declared it good.
Created good but sin marred the goodness.
Created good but sin made it dirty.

But one day…
Waiting will be no more.
Sin will be no more.
Death will be no more.

And the scrubbing will be uncomfortable.
And the dirt of sin will go down the drain never to return.
And we will be clean.
And we will be recognized and known by the One who holds the scrub brush in His hand.

Tears come as I think of beloved Charlottesville and other places too many to count.
One day the waiting will be over.
One day the One who is to come will scrub this world clean.
And then, they will know us by our love and not our hate.