Rain is God's Way...

Rain is God's way of cleaning the alleys. A strange statement to some, but to those who live in the urban core a well known truth. The other day as I left our Belltown apartment from the rear fire escape/alley exit, I was greeted by a "Kenny pile." Kenney is our resident homeless man whose world exists within the boundaries of first and Second Avenue, between Stewart and Virginia Street. At night, Kenny, a rather large black man complete with matted beard and what will soon be dreadlocks, sneaks into a parking garage on our block and stays out of the rain. During the days Kenny guards the phone booth on the corner like Fort Knox. Frequently he can be found talking quietly to himself, or humming a tune from the Deep South, but one thing you can count on, Kenny won't ask for money.

On this morning, Kenny had used the back steps of our fire escape as a toilet and I nearly stepped in it. I really like Kenny, I find him fascinating, but I really can do without the piles. I took a super wide step over the pile and went about running my errands. When I returned the rain was coming down in sheets. As I ran for the fire escape, I noticed that Kenny's pile had been washed away by the rain and all that remained was wet cobblestone.

Don't ask me how, but for some reason I saw a bit of truth in that pile of shit. As disgusting as it was, all it took was a little rain to clean things up again. Maybe I have a low self image, but I saw a piece of my life in that pile. Parts of me that are nasty, that stink, that no one would ever want to see. Parts of my character that shame me, and remind me of my need for a savior.

I was able to look past the poop on my steps because I like Kenny. I was able to see his need and understand why a private place like our fire escape would be a suitable bathroom for a modest homeless man. I was able to laugh about it as I pictured Kenny peeking over the dumpsters making sure no one was approaching. It's still amazing to me how love can overlook even the most detestable things, and I can't help believe that my sin is no less detestable to God. Yet, because of his overwhelming love for me he's able to look past the shit and see my need.

God's grace is the rain that cleans the copplestone of my life. It washes the alleys that remain unseen and cleanses the parts of me no one wants to know about. I will forever be grateful for the grace of my savior that cleanses the reality of who I am.