Outsourcing Miracles

Every Monday morning I contemplate outsourcing.  The weekends in our family tend to turn our house into primeval chaos.  As the work week commences, and everyone is gone their separate way, I stand with a cup of coffee in my hand, brooding, hovering over the deep of scattered Legos, remote controls, stray socks, candy wrappers and magazines, wishing I could speak the word,

Let there be order!

And, swoosh, there is order.

Alas.  It is not so.

So, I am tempted by the next best thing - outsourcing the unpleasant, dirty work and having it done by somebody else. Delegate it to some professional. Like Merry Maid. Or, The Cleaning Authority.  They tell me my life is too short to clean my own home - being the Authority, they must know. The effect of such outsourcing would be the same.  I get to sip my lemons-turn-into-lemonade, while enjoying order-out-of-chaos, dirty-made-clean. All this sans the tedious, ignoble and exhausting details.  

The more I reflect on the idea, the more attractive it becomes. I could outsource the cooking to Chef Boyardee and gardening to True Green.I could outsource my kids to Dr. Dobson and my marriage to Dr. Phil. I could outsource my friendships to Facebook and my spiritual growth to some short and sweet daily devotional app.

And thus I am able to spring-clean my entire life of all the tedious, ignoble and exhausting details that occupy most of my time and energy, ridding it of the all the stuff that sends me to my knees, both literally and figuratively.  The stuff that keeps me vitally connected to the mess and dirt of living on this earth. The stuff that every day stares at my face, reminding me I am a human, living among other humans... made out of humus... which is another word for dirt.

This brings to mind the thirteenth chapter of the Gospel of John. I don’t know if ‘outsourcing’ was necessarily the word on the disciples’ minds, but there was a dirty job to be done, and the boy – the Merry Maid - who was supposed to take care of it wasn't around. Now, it’s just them and their dirty, stinky feet. Who should stoop to do the job of the lowest of the lowest? Certainly not Peter.  Or James.  Or John.  To their credit, it was dinner time after a very long week. Everyone is hungry and tired.  The emotional strain of constant intense scrutiny of the Teacher by antagonistic religious cream-of-the-crop is wearing on them and they are ready to relax. They need to rest. But, the tantalizing smell of the food being prepared is out-smelled by the nauseating reek of their filth-caked feet. 

Then Jesus - the Teacher, the Rabbi, The LORD - stands up and scandalizes everyone by picking up the pail.

There is a lot of dirty work to be done in this world.  Some of it is menial. Even mindless. 

I can choose to see it as such and miss out on the opportunity, the privilege of being a co-worker with God in producing miniature miracles day after day, week after week - creating small oasis of order in the world of chaos. I can outsource all my dirty work and have it done by somebody else…  and miss the chance of working alongside my Savior, and experiencing a tiny measure of redemptive transformation by turning dirty into clean, even if it is stinky socks or the kitchen floor.  

Incarnation, God-in-human-flesh, God-cooking-breakfast-on-the-beach, God-washing-dirt-off-the-feet forever transformed the ordinary into extraordinary.

And who in their right mind would want to outsource the working of a miracle - big or small - from their own life? 

Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. I Corinthians 10:31