"Dad! Mom just flushed the toilet and it's filling up the basement bathtub again. The sink is gurgling like it just had its throat cut too." There was panic in our 13-year-old daughter's voice so I knew better than to make one of my lame attempts at pastoral jocularity.
It had all started about Christmas time. The basement toilet would gurgle whenever Linda ran the dishwasher upstairs. Over January and into February this had progressed to said toilet going round and round and seldom down even after several flushings. It just sort of leaked away its contents. Then it evolved to sewage seeping back into the basement bathtub when you flushed the toilet. This was not what was causing the panic in Chelsea's voice though. It was what she had witnessed as I applied one of my famous Webber solutions to the stopped up toilet problem, a solution she was terrified I might attempt again.
After one particular toilet back up experience a day or two earlier, I had surmised that the pipes were plugged. I dumped a half can of Draino down the basement toilet and another half can down the basement bathtub drain. After I had things boiling away nicely in the basement, I took another can of Draino to the upstairs toilet. Meanwhile Chelsea had wandered into the downstairs bathroom to begin an occupation that teenage girls are famous for. Upstairs, I dumped the other can of Draino into the toilet, flushed twice and began to apply the plunger with great gusto.
The results were quite spectacular. When Linda forced me to read the instructions on the Draino can afterwards, I calculated I had overdosed the toilet system about 20 times above the allowable limit. That, combined with the head of pressure from madly plunging a great volume of chemically boiling water from 10 feet above, well it was no wonder that the sewage did not drain into the downstairs bathtub but rather gushed into it with geyser-like force that would have made Yellowstone National Park's 'Old Faithful' proud.
After I had finished collecting bits of toilet paper and other sewage from the basement bathroom ceiling, Linda convinced me to call someone who knew something, as I had satisfactorily demonstrated that I didn't have a clue. So I phoned our resident know-it-all who explained our pipes were backed up and clogged because our septic tank must be full. Part of the joy of living in the bush is that there is no such thing as public sewage systems and water utilities and garbage removal and such. All the amenities of life are self-installed, self-maintained and self-repaired. And so, if our private septic tank was going to have to be pumped, Private Webber (that's the rank I hold in our family) was going to have to dig the dang thing up and get it pumped. The problem was that it was the middle of February and the ground was frozen like rock to at least three feet deep. Not only that, but I wasn't sure where the lid to the tank was, which meant not only the possibility of blasting my way with a pick through three feet of frozen ground once, but quite possibly three or four times as I searched for the blasted septic tank lid.
"We should have pumped the septic tank last summer like we were scheduled to!" said Linda. I left with her words ringing in my ears, a snow shovel in one hand, a pick in the other and a round nose shovel under each armpit. One of the great gifts God has given me is idea diarrhea. My brain just never seems to turn off. And so it was quite natural for me to spend the next several hours as I was mining for the septic tank lid, thinking and co-mingling life and scripture and Linda's last words that were still ringing in my ears.
Linda was right. Had I tended to the septic tank pumping last summer as it was scheduled, I would not have been in the hard-rock septic tank mining business in mid-February. This was simple waste management logic, if you don't get rid of the waste, it's going to back up and choke up the whole system. You can only live in denial of this waste management truth for a surprisingly short time, and then it is a huge problem.
It struck me as I was picking away at the hard-rock earth, that the same logic that applies to waste management and septic systems seems to apply to the sin management system in my life. Even though I know better, I often live in denial about my need to deal with sin in a regular and timely way. Just because I have come to faith in Christ, just because I am saved by His grace, and filled with God's Spirit, doesn't mean that I have stopped being a sinner. Arguing against this early Anabaptist understanding of sanctification, John Calvin wrote: "… though purged by his sanctification, we are still beset by many vices and much weakness, so long as we are enclosed in the prison of the body. Thus it is, that placed at a great distance from perfection, we must always be endeavoring to make some progress, and daily struggling with the evil by which we are entangled." (Institutes III,iii,14) John of the Bible puts it even more succinctly than John Calvin: "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." (1 John 1:8)
So if old John says its true and the Bible says so too, how do I stop living my life like I am not producing waste any longer just because I am in Christ? How do I deal with the cold hard 'truth' that I am still a sinner, and I need to deal with it regularly? If I don't, I know from past experience that I will quickly find out what it's like when sin stops up my life and how quickly a small problem can become a huge pile of crap.
Scripture makes it clear as to the way to pump the system, the waste management plan for sin that so quickly can stop up a disciple's life: "If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9) The rub is to become convinced with my need to be engaged in confession as part of my daily private prayer life. The need is to rediscover the grace of regular confession. I always engage in confession when I worship with other Christians, even though Seminary tried to convince me to stop being so "liturgically penitent" and some parishioner's express a dislike for "wallowing in our sins". However the rhythm of worship is meant to model rhythm for our daily lives, and what is often out of sync in mine is the beat of confession. I am not talking about a daily purge plan that can in any way justify willful sinning, knowing that at the end of the day I can just confess and flush. What I am talking about is that at the end of a day of seeking to live a Christ-like life and sometimes failing, to take those failures to Christ and tell him I am sorry, to ask for forgiveness and the strength to change. What I am talking about is a regular healthy sin management plan for dealing with all of the sin effluent in my life that can work to set me free and keep me free and joyful. What I am seeking is liberty through the discipline of regular confession. What I am talking about is what the Psalmist so powerfully describes:
"Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be — you get a fresh start, your slate's wiped clean. Count yourself lucky — God holds nothing against you and you're holding nothing back from him. When I kept it all inside, my bones turned to powder, my words became daylong groans. The pressure never let up; all the juices of my life dried up. Then I let it all out; I said, 'I'll make a clean breast of my failures to God.' Suddenly the pressure was gone — my guilt dissolved, my sin disappeared. These things add up. Every one of us needs to pray; when all hell breaks loose and the dam bursts we'll be on high ground, untouched. God's my island hideaway, keeps danger far from the shore, throws garlands of hosannas around my neck. Let me give you some good advice; I'm looking you in the eye and giving it to you straight: 'Don't be ornery like a horse or mule that needs bit and bridle to stay on track.' God-defiers are always in trouble; God-affirmers find themselves loved every time they turn around. Celebrate God. Sing together — everyone! All you honest hearts, raise the roof!" (Psalm 32:1)
