Shake the dust.

Doormats have been on my mind lately.
So many of my friends going through different situations in life, & all I can visualize for each of them is a welcoming doormat.

 

Pesky weeds that magically appeared in my life, six feet tall when I finally notice them for what they are, & I’m sitting on my couch, watching my baby’s swing caress him to & fro, & all that floods my mind is the visual of a doormat, seeming to beckon me forward.

 
In my mind’s eye, I’m standing in the most perfectly green lawn, the kind you imagine with the timed sprinklers & fancy driveways*. Before me is a bright red door with a golden shiny knocker, all along with a welcoming brown prickly door mat that says something clever like ‘welcome’, or ‘home sweet home’, or the most original ‘live love laugh’. But I’m not making fun of you.

 
Its all about the welcoming mat that nobody wants to step on in their bare feet because those thick pinch hairs that stick up to fight the dirt of your shoes are quit possible made of thorns sometimes. No matter what, they are begging to be stepped on & walked over & sometimes on a sunny day there is no reason but to welcome you into a new doorway & remind you of this seasons newness & other times on the muddiest of days its like the baptismal for muddy feet. On the worst days, the welcome mats are just begging us to give a good stomping shuffle before entering. & oh, how we need it.

 
I’ve been reminding my people to take a step back to the doormat sometimes, only as God himself is reminding me. Because Sunday, on the way to church, I thought somethings different & God immediately responded to my rhetorical thought, you’re harboring hatred.

 
Do you know I honestly had not realized? I mean I had obviously known how ferocious my heart had become towards some people, but I hadn’t really thought about it in terms of spiritual health. In terms of heart health.

 

“He made you holy by means of Christ Jesus, just as He did for all people everywhere who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord & ours.” —1 Corinthians 1:2 NLT

 
Its scary how natural hatred can feel. How unaware we can be of its growing roots within our hearts. The thought that I hadn’t even recognized it for what it was, as I allowed myself to get so caught up in the routine actions of a couple people that I had decided could quite possibly be the devil’s personal assistants, consumed by hatred for them.

 
& I’ve asked God to help me with this, to uproot the bitter & replace it with something beautiful that He’d love to see inside of me. To make me aware of every thought, & make it obedient to him. So I’m imagining doormats.

 
Doormats when I feel like being rude to those who are rude to me, when I am done being kind to the phony bolognas, & when I want to tell my friends the hard truth they don’t want to hear in their hurtful circumstances. Back to the doormat. Shake the dust.

 
I can’t tell you its working perfectly or that now that I’m imagining doormats or recognizing hatred, that the flip has been switched & the hatred has turned into magical quantities of love. God is still reminding me every day & using my people to remind me. The other day when I was under attack with my friend by my side, she caught on quicker than I had.

 
Taptaptap. Our battles aren’t against flesh & blood. Taptaptap. It’s not them. Its deeper.
Then I imagined the doormat.

 
Be that friend who reminded me to take a step back to the doormat, & if you can’t find the words to help them work through it, literally tell them to take a step back to the doormat. Tell them to do a little shuffle, & figure out if their actions are aligning with his words. Ask them if they’re bringing heaven to earth.

 
Let’s make a practice of it, shall we?
Let’s align ourselves with His truths.
Let’s make every thought obedient to him.
Let’s keep shaking the dust & entering in.

 

*A fancy driveway would be the paved kind where you drive & you don’t get lost in a big pot hole half way up your driveway, only to never be seen again.

It’s your turn, love. Break the silence. Spill your guts.

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