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Why Do We REALLY Do the Dishes?

Why Do We REALLY Do the Dishes?

Well, it's official. "Wifey-material" is not one of the strengths on my resume. 

Yesterday, I stopped by and cleaned Matt's apartment while he was running errands. 

I thought it'd be fitting to practice being that idealized a "servant" wife. 

The whole time I was cleaning, I kept telling myself that I hoped to just be a servant to him, to give my love, time, and energy, cleaning selflessly. Even if given nothing in return. 

So, there I was. Miss Selfless. Scrubbing away. Cleaning away. Folding away.

And then my bubble bursted.

Here's why: 

When he got home, a whole 30 seconds passed and he still hadn't seemed to notice the brilliant shine of the counter tops. 

My blood started to boil. I found myself fuming. "Not even a thank you?!" 

Then, it hit me. My "servant's heart" came undone and its true condition was revealed: I wasn't doing all of that cleaning selflessly. 

I DID want something in return. I wanted gratitude. I wanted affirmation. I wanted to be glorified for my hard work. I wanted to be told I was wifey-material. 

When that didn't come, I was angry.

Wow. Bubble, bursted. Pride squished. Heart humbled. 

I'm the definition of imperfection. Even in the good things I do.

I'm realizing that I not only have to surrender my sin, but also the selfish motivation behind every act of service I do.

I'm called to kitchen service because of Jesus' service. Only in His case, He didn't do it for the affirmation and gratitude He knew He wouldn't receive. 

And that's exactly why WE can't always receive it. The less glory we get, the more our hearts can be molded to look more like Jesus. 

And that will likely happen over dirty dishes more often than heroic acts. 

And I'm okay with that. 

Completely okay with that. 

Does This Make Me Look Fat?

Does This Make Me Look Fat?