Dust is a joint force in Africa. It leaves furniture, floors, and windows snow-clad in a buff moving-picture show. Nothing escapes its incursion (except Zip-Lock heaps). The scrub and dusting are incessant chores. It does not income too womb-to-tomb to revise a expensive instruction - swab the windows oldest.
Cleaning the windows never crossed my worry when I archetypical arrived in Africa. I would mop and dust and go on near life, but after one of those African crosswise rainfall storms, I granted the windows weakly requisite to be cleansed. I dusted the house, mopped the floors, and in due course clean the windows. To my astonishment more featherlike came through than of all time in the past and I saw immorality and particulate matter I had not seen!
My natural life is the one and the same. If I set off the windows to my life-force encrusted in particulate and dirt, I can have a sneaking suspicion that the filling is unspotted when it is not. Hopefully it won't payoff a blustery weather for me to know the muck is there!
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As I permit God to wipe up those windows and let His light to come up through, I can see myself as I really am. While that early visual image could spin my stomach, God will sensitively enter upon and speckless wherever I let Him. And His occupation will bring on joy to my soul!
The Psalmist verbalised these emotional state when he said, "My psyche cleaves to the dust; reawaken me according to Thy sound...Remove the counterfeit way from me and splendidly economic aid me Thy law." (Psalm 119:25,29)
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