When you get to be of middle age like I am, you have to take stock in where you’re at in life. And lately I’ve been feeling a sort of spiritual emptiness that I’m sure comes to a lot of “Gen-X” types like me: people who suddenly realize they probably have more years behind them than they do ahead.
And so, at 48-years old, I am now completely willing to be born again, and I am willing to open my heart to Jesus Christ—my personal Lord and Savior—in hopes that he might save the soul of a sinner like me, and that he may be with me during every moment of the rest of my life.
Except for when I’m pooping, however.
Because that would just be weird.
I know that I have a lot to atone for, and I also know that having Jesus walk with me during each step I take in this journey is the best I can hope for. But the thought of Jesus standing right there and watching me vacate my bowels every morning during my coffee break in the office men’s room is just a little— I don’t know—offsetting.
Like, I have a hard enough time going whenever I know there’s some guy in one of the other stalls next to me. So knowing that the Son of God might be standing right there, in the same stall, just sort of disappointingly staring at me trying to take care of business? Well, that’s pretty much a deal breaker.
Now, I’m aware that this concern of mine might come off as rather petty, but please don’t get me wrong: I have full faith in the Lord, and I am keenly aware that we mere mortals are truly blessed to live in this amazing world that was so industriously created by our Father in a mere six days.
It’s just that, somewhere during that first week, I’m pretty sure God also created irritable bowel syndrome, and that’s something that’s sort of keeping me from fully embracing the eternal grace He offers.
Because, again, the thought of Jesus watching me go through such strenuous and terrible toilet time—including double-flushes and blaring Pantera as loud as I can on my iPhone in order to avoid anybody else hearing me try to defecate on a daily basis—is something that really makes me second guess my seeking a way to eternal salvation.
At the end of the day, though, I know that Jesus loves me despite all of my insecurities, no matter how embarrassing. And it’s because of that divine assurance that I know I will eventually get over my insecurities while quite literally “getting off the pot” and onto my knees, in order to pray for forgiveness of my sins while seeking the Lord’s sweet embrace.
Of course, before that can happen, I suppose I’m also going to have to tackle this porn-fueled masturbation addiction… But, hey, one thoroughly-embarrassing sin at a time, right?
(God help me.)