I have an enemy. I hate my enemy with a deep and overwhelming passion. If my enemy were to disappear from this earth, I would rejoice. My enemy knows how to annoy and frustrate me, how to really get under my skin. I try to run, I try to hide, but it is useless. My enemy is always there, taunting me. I battle with my enemy daily, and sometimes hourly.
Crumbs. As I live and breathe, I hate crumbs. They follow me everywhere. They get stuck into every little crevice of my life and irritate me in the very depths of my cleanliness. If I could banish them from my home, I would do so in an instant. They are everywhere, and no matter how much time I devote to putting them where they belong, they still seem to find their sneaky little way out. They are frustrating, annoying, and downright vile. I hate them. Did I say that already?
What has caused this deep and robust hatred of crumbs? It is hard to pin-point exactly where my crumb-hatred began. As a child, I lived at peace with the crumbs. In fact, I daresay, that I was hardly aware of them. I lived with them permanently attached to my upper lip most days, and never seemed to notice. As I grew older, I was aware of them, but I was unwilling to put forth the effort required in removing them from my life. Once I was married, I began to notice, but they were fairly sparse, and they weren’t as stubborn as the crumbs I now fight daily.
Once I had children, my hatred of crumbs really began. As the kids started eating solid food the crumbs were everywhere. They multiplied in the night, breeding faster than I could conquer them. The more I hated them, the more I noticed them. Crackers, cookies, pretzels, pizza crust. Did you know it was possible for cheese to make crumbs? I hadn’t realized.
Yet, they really are just crumbs. Why am I so fixated on them? Why does my skin crawl at the sight of them? Why do I become instantly annoyed when I feel them underfoot? Why can’t I find a way to make peace with the crumbs?
Perhaps, my hatred of crumbs really isn’t about the crumbs at all. Perhaps this war stems from something else entirely. Perhaps my enemy isn’t the crumbs, quite contrarily, it is my attitude about the crumbs. Perhaps this battle is not a battle with crumbs, but rather a battle with my one true enemy, “self” and its overwhelming desire to sin.
“Self”. Selfishness. My inability, or rather, unwillingness to die to myself daily. My fight with the crumbs, shows just how selfish I really am. As I bend over to wipe them off of the floor, I face a choice. Am I going to let “self” rob me of the joy of my daily tasks, or am I going to die to myself, and find joy in all that I do? Yes, even in battling crumbs.
As a stay at home mother who also chooses to homeschool, most of what I do is contrary to my selfish desires. “Self” tells me to have high expectations and low tolerance of my children and others. “Self” tells me to audibly sigh at the sight of the ever-growing pile of laundry. “Self” tells me to to tell my children to “go play” rather than bringing them close and inviting them into every part of my life. “Self” tells me to view my needs over everyone else’s. “Self” tells me to become frustrated if anything is asked of me. “Self” tells me what I deserve, rather than asking what I can give. “Self” is a liar and tells me that life is about my enjoyment, comfort and pleasure. “Self” tells me to be easily annoyed with all the “inconveniences” of this life, rather than finding joy in my service of others.
“Self”. Sinfulness. My desire to please myself over Christ. Perhaps “self” is my one, true enemy.
Perhaps crumbs are just one of the Lord’s instruments that He uses to teach me to battle my true enemy, my selfish and sinful desires. Maybe the crumbs really are justcrumbs. Maybe every time I sweep another pile of crumbs, and do so with joy, “self” dies a little more.
“Self” dies when I choose to play on the floor with my son, rather than attending to all the things I feel “need” to get done. “Self” dies when I choose to sing as I load the dishwasher for the millionth time this week. “Self” dies when I choose to smile at my daughter and explain that math problem, again, and as many times as it takes until it finally clicks. “Self” dies when I choose to love all the little tasks the Lord has put in my path, when I consider all of my work “pure joy”.
Every time “self” dies, there is victory, victory over sin and selfish ambition, or downright laziness. The victory is the Lord’s. I love Him more, I see Him more, I feel Him more. Where “self” is alive and thriving, the Lord is not easily heard. When I choose to die to “self”, I choose to live for Christ.
Maybe it is time to find peace with the crumbs. Besides, they are evidence of life in our home. Of crackers, cookies, and pretzels handled by chubby, childish fingers. Of time spent around the dinner table, of school during breakfast, of a life that may appear simple and mundane to some, but fills me with joy, because I choose to let it fill me with joy. Each time I wipe crumbs off of the top of precious upper lips, and do so with joy, it is evidence of the life of Christ in me.
Therefore I say, “long-live crumbs!”, and furthermore, long-live Christ and His power to dwell in me and use me for His good work, even if that work is simply sweeping crumbs.
