Dirty Fingernails

There are few things on this earth that gross me out quicker than someone's dirty fingernails. Especially in food service. If I see someone preparing food and they have dirt under their nails, I don't want to eat in the establishment because my gag reflex kicks in rather quickly.

I think it's all because I was traumatized by dirty fingernails when I was a child. When I was about 8 or so, my big sister, her friend and I went on a little hike on the bike trails that were near our home. We had gone quite a way and all of a sudden.... someone had to use the restroom - in an emergency kind of way. Yes, I'm sure you've already guessed that someone was me. :) My big sister and her friend found a place secluded enough to hide me from anyone that might happen along our path and my sister's friend went to find something that could pass for toilet paper. Thankfully, she found some leaves for the job and I managed to get myself clean. As I was beginning to stand up... I lost my balance and fell backward. Of course, the reflex to catch myself with my hand kicked in and just where do you imagine my little hand found a place to reside? Yes, that's correct - right in the pile of poo-poo. Blech. Of course, my sister and her friend vacillated being wanting to laugh uproariously and feeling sorry for me because I burst into tears as soon as I felt squishy warmth. I still shudder when I think of it. My sister and her friend removed most of it from my hands with leaves and I scrubbed my hand against the grass, dirt, even some tree bark! Any kind of dirt was better than having a hand full of feces!

We headed straight home and I bolted for the bathroom.  I washed my hands with soap and water and removed most of the evidence rather quickly. The only hint remaining was under my fingernails. I scrubbed my hands again and again, sprayed my Mom's perfume on them, dusted them with powder, even put on clear fingernail polish! At first glance, no one would've been able to tell my hands were dirty. They looked like the normal hands of an 8 year old. The problem? I knew it was still there, that very fine dark line where my nail bed began and the smell when my hands got close to my face. I couldn't stand it.

Thankfully, my mom caught wind (quite literally I'm sure) of my predicament and made quick work of removing the filth from under my nails with a nail brush, a file and clippers (she never did anything halfway ;). I don't know if I've ever been so grateful for the things I had previously thought of as torture tools my mom used on me about once a month! I had clean hands again! Yippee!!

As I was pondering what the Lord was trying to teach me with this memory, I came across this passage of Scripture and it gave me pause...

"As Jesus was speaking, one of the Pharisees invited him home for a meal. So he went in and took his place at the table. His host was amazed to see that he sat down to eat without first performing the hand-washing ceremony required by Jewish custom. Then the Lord said to him, “You Pharisees are so careful to clean the outside of the cup and the dish, but inside you are filthy—full of greed and wickedness! Fools! Didn’t God make the inside as well as the outside?" -  Luke 11:37-40

Hmmm, the Pharisees went about their rituals and such, but they never went beyond what looked okay on the outside. Washing is a necessary practice, both physically and spiritually, but if the job done is ineffective, what good is there in that? Am I just concerned with how I look on the outside? Sadly, yes, that's been true of me sometimes.  I've done my required reading of Scripture, prayed my certain amount of minutes and sang a song of worship. Checked all those boxes! Good goin', Nell! But am I filthy still? Am I still full of things displeasing to my Father?

I'll tell you a secret.... Come close, I'm whispering now. ;0)

I've had many a season when much of my personal time with the Lord has been spent doing something I don't enjoy - bawling my cotton-pickin' head off face down on the floor! I'd much rather be studying some Bible text to find nuggets of truth in His Word or boisterously praising Him with all my might. Even though He's gentle, humbling myself before Him and allowing Him past the pride and the anger and near the fear and the pain is hard. It hurts.

Now, what if I refused His maintenance on my spiritual heart? How long would it be before the smell of my filth would overwhelm me (and everyone else)? I have to submit to the gentle, yet, thorough cleansing of my Father. It's the only way to know the cup is clean, inside and out. Thankfully, my spiritual heart has no fingernails, one less thing to worry about. ;)