Vandalism for Christ
Lauren Yancey
When Christ came as high priest of the good things that are already here, he went through the greater and more perfect tabernacle that is not man-made, that is to say, not a part of this creation. He did not enter by means of the blood of goats and calves but he entered the Most Holy Place once for all by his own blood, having obtained eternal redemption. The blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who are ceremonially unclean sanctify them so that they are outwardly clean. How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God! - Hebrews 9: 11-14
I loathe getting unnecessarily dirty. When I was young, I turned up my nose towards my friends’ fights with the leftover lemonade from our summer stand. It was so sticky when it dried. When I was a little older, I yelled at my brother when he tried to wipe the mud from his cleats on my face. Even when I was in college and my roommates and I were painting the house we were renting a block from campus, I cringed when Jennifer dropped a dollop of paint on me – purposefully of course. The ensuing paint fight only infuriated me more. With each incident, I found myself craving the relief of water and a little soap. The feeling of wiping all the dirt and grime, lemonade and stickiness, mud and paint off of me was intoxicating. I craved the cleanliness.
My first year of attending World Changers, two years ago, I immediately noticed the battle for cleanliness. However, the surrounding areas of this last World Changers trip seemed to hunger for this even more. To the world, we were fighting to clean up the neighborhoods in which we worked steadily for a week. Leaky houses, dilapidated porches, and peeling paint were only a few of the physical battles we fought in the neighborhoods of Bonne Terre, Missouri.
At my particular work site, the filth and trash surrounding the home was overwhelming. We spent a solid morning removing garbage from around the house just so we could begin the three day scraping job that awaited us. Even when all the rubbish was cleared, it still felt dirty. The family that lived in the house had had no running water for six months and the smells stirred up my perceptive olfactory senses. Although the house didn’t look trashy anymore, I could still feel it; I could still smell it.
About the third day of scraping paint, I took a water break in front of the tin shed that sat about 75 feet behind the back of the house. My womanly curiosities grabbed hold of me and I peeked in the slightly ajar shed door. At first, I wasn’t surprised. There were boxes, old furniture, broken tools, and although it was messy, these were not uncommon items for a backyard shed. However, as I was about to close the door behind me, I noticed black graffiti on the white left side shed wall. I didn’t have to look twice to understand the contents of the message. The words and pictures that had been left behind were offensive, disgusting, degrading, hateful, detestable, dirty, and mostly wrong. As a teacher, I have seen a lot of things, but the downright disregard for the respect of others was overwhelming.
Wanting something to be done, but not knowing what, I called our youth minister over so that he would know to discourage the youth from going into the shed. We shut the door tightly and propped a shovel against it. We discussed it and a day and ten dollars later, we had two cans of white spray paint in our possession.
Honestly, I felt little satisfaction at first as Jeff and I sprayed over the self-serving black marks. I guessed that it was for the same reason that I hate getting dirty. I may look clean after scrubbing off the stickiness and dirt, but I still know that it was there. The white spray paint did not erase the words and pictures; it only covered it up. However, as Jeff exclaimed his joy in cleaning up the mess, I began to see the correspondence to another type of cleanliness we were fighting for that week: the cleanliness of our souls and the souls of Bonne Terre, Missouri.
World Changers is about fixing houses and cleaning up physical filth. Even more than that, it’s about showing God’s overpowering love for all people and his crushing ability to forgive all sin. As I stepped back and looked at the wall we had painted white again, I was tremendously grateful that God did not look at me the same way that I viewed this wall. I could still imagine the black words and pictures that were under the paint. However, when I agreed to give my life to God, my dirt and my sin was not just covered up; it was forgotten. God does not look at me and only see outward cleanliness; he does not still feel and smell the filth and dirt of my life as I did for that house and that wall. Rather, Christ’s blood cleanses us completely so that we may forget the past and serve him. It is indescribably amazing what God can use to teach us lessons and to serve him, even a wall and spray paint.
