Smelly Ellie

1 John 1:9 "If we confess out sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."

My dog, Eleanor Rigby, is my baby. And like a baby, she gets into stuff and gets really smelly and nasty. And then I have to bathe her. Also, Ellie hates water. Hates it. When I came home yesterday, she had rolled around in poop. Vom. She runs up to me all excited like she always does when I get home, but when I go to pet her, she kind of turns away with her head down and tail tucked between her legs. That would be her guilty look. Eleanor, what did you do? And then I smelled it. My horror quickly translated to action. I corralled her straight into our downstairs bathroom, picked her stubborn self up and put her in the shower, turned the water on and shut the door. Once the nastiness has rinsed for a bit, I jump in there with her and start dumping shampoo on her while feeling her "Mommy, why would you do this to me," eyes. Wet and vulnerable and half hating me half seeking comfort in me, she finally got all clean and I dried her off and set her free again, praying fervently that it would be a long time before she rolled in poop again.

That's us and God. We roll around in poop and come before him ashamed and guilty and he, without missing a beat, begins to clean our filthy hearts. We stand there soaked, needy, and unhappy and are once more released probably only to roll in something else disgusting. Like dead possum. Ellie does that. But as soon as we do, God's right there to dead lift our sorry butts into the shower and cleanse our sins and failings.