“No. No way.”
“Yes way.”
“That’s gross. And totally irreverent.”
“Like I haven’t seen anyone take a dump before. And I created bowel movements so watch what you’re calling ‘irreverent.’”
“I can’t read the Bible on the toilet!”
“You have no problem immersing yourself in Rolling Stone, Sports Illustrated, or US Weekly while taking a number two.”
“The US Weekly is Shelley’s! I do not read celebrity gossip!”
“Whatever. Like you said, I’m omniscient. Besides, you’re changing the subject.”
“You really want me to read The Message on the privy?”
“If I have to tell you again, it’s going to be the King James Bible standing on your head.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“That’s more like it. Now plop down on the pot and get started.”
I followed the Lord’s instructions, but it wasn’t easy at first. I felt sacrilegious. Over time, however, I discovered that God was right. He’s always right, which would be irritating if it wasn’t for that whole grace and love thing.
Even on the toilet, The Message made scripture come alive again. Other translations had made the Bible sound formal and distant. This felt more accessible, almost more true. Passages I’d read a hundred times spoke new wisdom to me. I could feel God’s presence, right there with me in the bathroom. Even a dinner of saturated fats followed by a high-fiber breakfast couldn’t keep me from feeling close to God for a little while each morning. And it improved the rest of my day. I was more likely to be patient and kind, and a little less likely to be, well, me.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Jesus washed the feet of his disciples the night before he was crucified. That’s more hardcore than it sounds. In first century Palestine, people wore sandals and walked through dirt all day, not to mention the occasional camel pie trip-mine. Some of the disciples were fishermen, so the Son of God might have been scrubbing out scales and fish guts. He was doing something holy that, to us, seems kind of gross. He did it because he wanted his disciples to feel his unconditional love. Maybe that’s what Jesus was trying to show me. Maybe he didn’t want me reading the Bible when I felt pious and clean. He wanted me to see that we could be together anytime, anywhere. I guess God really does want to “meet us where we are.”
