dichotomy

I stood in the trash and laundry foyer at 6:43 this morning and found myself standing hard in the midst of a precious dicotomy. In my left hand I held a garbage bag full of used depends and globs of ham salad sandwiches that people spit on the floor and I picked up; in my right hand, another bag heaped with dirty clothes and bedding. I stood in that dingy basement hallway- not uncommon to that of a scary movie and all of it's delicacies- affronted by every horrible stench encompassed in the necessities of my job. The air is thick and musty before I enter with my bundles, my addition to it is overwhelming.

It's a minor detail of the job, it takes only a few minutes a couple of times a night. I run back, dump the stuff, and it's done for the next four hours. However, I hate being back there especially in the night. Being such a small portion of my time, it remains one of the greatest grudges therein.

Upon entrance this morning, and somehow for the first time in three years, I caught a glimpse of the landscape outside my world. It was breathtaking and managed to arrest my senses despite the place my feet stood. Missouri is beautiful country. Where we live, from any point in town, you can generally see outside to the rolling hills and hordes of thick green trees and wild flowers. It's mesmerizing. I looked out the window past the parking lot and there was a thick fog rolling over the hills and I was instantaneously transported to the summers we spent vacationing on campgrounds in the mountains of Colorado. All the feelings came rushing in and reminded me of my early discoveries of true beauty in this extraordinary canvas we live on. I snapped back and proceeded to dumped the linens and the trash and headed back up the hall where I smiled and said, "Good morning," to the oncoming shift, who all looked at me with disdain and said nothing.

I walked out to my car just minutes after all of this transpired and took a deep breath and felt totally alive. I am the dichotomy. My life is the dichotomy. I am the living, breathing, testimony of the resurrection of Christ. My life in a fallen world is the separation of that which is wrong and that which is right. It's me. I walk the path to Eden everyday. It's called sanctification; a process of returning to that which is untainted and good. Christ in me, the hope of glory, amidst the crass wickedness of this Sodom and Gomorrah. Run, Christian; the days are short.