Messy Discipleship
(This my friend’s true story. Names have been changed.)
I hope no one sees me.
Hair a mess, no make-up, still in my pajamas though it was well after time to be dressed, I surveyed the sidewalk and adjacent yards through the slightly open door.
The fresh air felt great. I had been sick for almost two days, babying myself in bed in the hopes of a speedy recovery. My intense rest and self-care had paid off – I was just beginning to feel better. Just well enough to step outside for a minute.
No one around.
Casting aside my social inhibitions, I darted into the December day in my unkempt state to retrieve the recently delivered mail.
At the mailbox, I closed my eyes and took in a deep, cold breath before turning back to the warm safety of our little home. It was the bit of refreshment I needed to face the mess left by my four children and chocolate lab puppy in the wake of my brief illness.
“Katie?” I wanted to melt into the ground as my neighbor, Brianna, approached. Before I could offer an excuse for my disheveled appearance, her tears caught my attention. “You’re close to God,” she said, “I need to talk.” Her voice expressed a deepness of need; her tearful plea pulling my awareness from superficial embarrassment to the reality of humanity.
Then, to my surprise, she added, “Usually I don’t like to talk to you, because you’re like a crunchy Martha Stewart.” A little puzzled by her comment, my mind raced back to a few nights before.
Like most people, I love Christmas time. I love it for the reasons we all do, the lights, the music, the extra expressions of generosity. But I especially love it because of the opportunity it brings to share my love of the Savior, and to share His light. I love that people are more receptive to invitations to rejoice in Christ with me.
That year, my husband and I had decided to invite our neighbors over for cookies and a Christmas video, The Christ Child, with our family. The response was positive, and I prepared with all my heart to make it a beautiful, spirit-filled experience. I invited the sister missionaries to be there to share a message with our friends.
When the evening arrived, everything was perfect. The house was sparkling clean – no easy task with four young children and a puppy! The decorations were up, and they were beautiful. The cookies we had made were both pretty and delicious. I wore what I had picked out to be the perfect outfit; had my hair and make-up done. My heart rejoiced. My preparations had paid off, and I was excited. I wanted everyone who came to our home to feel the spirit and just be pumped about God!
Well, no one was pumped. But it was nice.
We watched the video, the missionaries shared from The Book of Mormon, and a neighbor shared his tender feelings about the Savior. The result of my efforts wasn’t what I had imagined, but it was a pleasant evening. The spirit was present, and good conversation took place, but I was a little disappointed. I thought the spirit would be stronger and that my friends would be more hungry for Christ.
Now, standing in the cold, my house a wreck, a neighbor was hungry for Him.
It was so chilly as she began to pour out her heart to me, I had to let her in. “I’m sorry, I have been sick, and the house is crazy,” I said as we entered. “That’s okay.” she said, “Sometimes I don’t clean, either.”
Yikes.
I glanced around, embarrassed. It wasn’t just untidy. The house was trashed. Without mom’s supervision for two days, meals and snacks had been sequentially made on top of the previous mess. Trash, toys, and crumbs littered the floor. I watched our chocolate lab, Ace, tear open a cereal box, shaking his head and flinging the contents around the already cluttered room.
We sat down amidst the mess.
What Brianna then shared through tears shocked me. Her best friend had passed away the night before, dying in her arms.
Brianna explained that she and her friend were recovering from addictions to prescription meds and were attending a Narcotics Anonymous class with a few others who had the same struggle. Her friend had had a recent relapse into drug use, and on the way home from the class, in the back seat of the car, though apparently sober, her body collapsed and she fell over, slumped onto Brianna’s shoulder. The driver of the vehicle immediately headed to the ER, but before arriving at the hospital, her friend had passed away.
My heart ached for her.
I listened as she shared that at the hospital, she and her friends had phoned their deceased friend’s parents, who had angrily blamed their daughter’s death on them and their bad influence.
Brianna was at a total loss; grieving her friend’s death and bothered by the parents’ anger. She wanted to know where her friend was. Was she in a bad place because of her relapse into bad things?
I knew I had answers, but I needed back up. I told her I had some friends, missionaries, who could answer her questions better than I. She allowed me to phone them and invite them to my house to speak with her. They came right away; the same sisters who had been in our home a few nights before, in all my perfection.
I introduced them to my neighbor, still feeling weak and embarrassed at the state of my house. The sisters talked with her and I listened in while attempting to sweep up some of the mess.
The spirit filled the room with beauty and power as the missionaries taught my neighbor the plan of salvation. They shared where her friend was – alive in the spirit world, and that Christ’s mercy reached everyone, on both sides of the veil. The feeling in the room was beautiful. The spirit was ridiculously strong. I had never felt the Holy Ghost so powerful.
My friend who’d come distraught became calm. The transformation was incredible. I could see it on her face. She felt peace, hope, and even joy. She left feeling loved.
It was beautiful. I thought to myself later. It’s what Christ does. He gets down and messy with us. He lifts. He comforts. He cleanses. He heals us. Right where we are, sick, aching, filthy. He takes the bad and He turns it to good.
Can God be there when everything is planned, perfect, and nice? Yes. But we don’t have to be perfect to be His hands. He had answered the desire of my heart – the spirit strong, in my home, to bless a friend with the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I learned that God can use me, even in a mess.