The Toilet Papered Bathroom

My house temporarily housed nine extra people—seven middle school boys and two adult leaders. We hosted them while they participated in our church’s youth weekend, Disciple Now. The chaos and noise got a bit overwhelming at times, but the spiritual growth, sweet memories, and lasting friendships formed were worth the extra racket.

While these kids were occupying our home, we relocated our dog, Amos. He’s not the sharpest crayon in the box and his ability to pick and choose appropriate times to do most anything is severely lacking. Normally, he’s allowed to run free in the house, as long as we are home. He has a recliner he sits in and, for the most part, doesn’t get into too much trouble inside.

The problem, however, became that he loves kids, especially this playful age group. All he wanted to do was jump, chase, and frog hop from person to person. He resembled a toddler guzzling a caffeinated drink for the first time, pinging in all directions. Because of this unpredictable behavior, I worried he would get too excited and mark someone’s suitcase or eat something that wasn’t his. And that is how Amos found himself locked in our bedroom, lonely and bored.

Now, I’m a problem solver. A thinker. A preventer. Until that very day, Amos had not ever had free, unsupervised reign of our bedroom. But, with the chilly weather outside and odd circumstances, alas, there he stayed.

Several kids and adults ventured into the room to use our bathroom. They talked to Amos and played with him. Then breakfast was served, and Amos sat in the bedroom alone for forty-five minutes. Since we are not totally finished building everything in our house, there is a shower curtain between our bathroom and bedroom, with no way to block Amos in or out of either. I felt confident I had picked up anything tempting. Once the boys left for church, I’d let him run around outside, and all would be well.

As I checked the bathroom for clothes and jackets right after breakfast, I pulled back the curtain and stood. Shocked. Mouth open. Stunned. All five, brand new rolls of toilet paper were chewed and scattered across the bathroom floor. Even the cardboard rolls were shredded. Honestly, he could not have spread the paper out that evenly if he tried. There was even a half-chewed roll in the giant bathtub.

Anger boiled. Amos was already on my poop list for other misbehavior, so this only added insult to injury. I took a picture and calmed my raging insides. Boys and adults took turns coming in and laughing at the mess. The dog immediately lost his freedom and went directly to his crate on the porch. He’s almost two years old! I expected that sort of behavior from him when he was a puppy, but now? Shouldn’t an adult dog know better than to shred toilet paper?

Left to Our Own Devices

Much like Amos, we often find ourselves in messes of our own. We’ve been believers for most of our lives and should have reached maturity. No longer are we on milk, but meat. Even if we are somewhat new to the faith, we know what God asks of us and comprehend the differences between right and wrong.

But that one person says something that grates us to the bone. Or we have our hands in everything and are overextending ourselves. Maybe we are tired and burned out from life and on the edge of losing our junk. Maybe we’re facing hard decisions, job loss, health issues, or heartache.

Then Amos enters the scene. We wallow in and entertain the emotions of our flesh. Justifications applaud our actions and allowances endorse our next move. We, like Saul, David, Moses and others, take matters into our own hands, removing our spiritual eyes from their heavenward gaze, refocusing selfishly on our inward desires. Then before we even realize what we’ve done, we’ve not only shredded five rolls of toilet paper, but also the hearts of people we genuinely love.

A dear college friend used to quote Titus 2:11-12 all the time. “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, instructing us to deny godlessness and worldly lusts and to live in a sensible, righteous, and godly way in the present age.” My friend was a young believer, learning the consequences of past sinful decisions and strived to cut that way of life out of existence. She took the commands of scripture seriously and wanted only to honor the Lord.

Sadly, many of us don’t hold fast to our convictions long term. We grow comfortable with the rhetoric and routine. Bible reading becomes a checkmark on our daily to-do list or falls of the list completely. Church attendance and service remain a priority, but somewhere along the line, we stop inspecting the condition of our hearts. Like the song by Casting Crowns, we encounter a slow fade that is so small we don’t realize we’ve veered off course.

Our language begins to slip. The music we choose stops edifying our souls. Anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness sneak into our hearts. Movie and television choices become less admirable. We begin comparing and judging ourselves with others. And before long, no one would be able to identify us as Christians in a police-style lineup.

Left to our own devices, we can make a mess of things, can’t we?

Maybe we haven’t strung a two-week supply of toilet paper across the master bathroom, but we’ve done the adult equivalent.

How’s Your Heart?

Examine your heart this week. Ask God to reveal any complacency or rebellion looming underneath the surface. If we’re nineteen or ninety, as long as we are on this earth and not in heaven, we are still fighting our sin nature. We are always our own worst enemy, especially when we are lonely, bored, and out of our normal routine.

Did I mention the nickname my eight-year-old gave the dog? Ignore Amos. Quite fitting. Make sure we are not adopting any unwanted nicknames because of our confusing “Christian” example. Let’s live like Titus instructed, “sensible, righteous, and godly” in our day to day lives.

© Christy Bass Adams 2024, All images from Canva