My bedroom is the greatest representation of the state of my life.
No, seriously. It seems to me like I am constantly trying to pick it up, only to have it accumulate more clutter. It's a rollercoaster of clean up, neglect, clean up, neglect, and never getting it quite to the point of perfection I want it at.
I consider this everytime I clean my room, because, well, I only approach the beast when I feel like every other thing in my life is back in the order it should be. This is the same way I've lived out my life for several months now, a rhythm of switching between going after God with everything and forgetting my troubles then returning to a few days of blatang frustration, religiosity, and general unbelief.
But I want to be faithful.
It's like I'm constantly trying to change a hoarder's space into the White House guest bedroom in one easy step. Trying to go from broken to righteous in one day's time. I tried to skip the steps.
So I'm going back. I'm starting from the beginning. I'm going to seek and let the harmful things get weeded out of my heart.
I cleaned my room completely today. It took seven hours - much longer than I desired.
But it was worth it.
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