What business do I have putting the word “God” alongside the word “shit”, anyway? Am I just trying to get attention; to be offensive?
Shit has been an offensive word for hundreds of years. Apparently people don’t particularly care for a word that describes something that only other folks do.
A simple study on the etymology of the word is quite enlightening.* An Old English word dating from the 14th century, its root is the verb scitan, which means simply “to split, divide, or separate”. Related to shed, it implies that what is not helpful or useful is, of necessity, jettisoned.
Actually, what I DO think is funny (not haha-funny but weird-funny) is that we shrink from calling things what they are. We are sultans of spin, experts at euphemism, and we will do almost anything to polish up our poop and proclaim it presentable.
But I’m tired of it. I know what shit smells like, and I don’t care how elegant you think yours is.
I’m full of shit, I admit it. It weighs me down, makes me sick, permeates my cells. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust? Try manure to manure. That’s me.
But I don’t want to get my shit together. I want to get rid of it entirely. I want to be purged, to be set free from the foul and fetid and festering. To walk in newness, and life abundant.
And that’s what I’m writing about here. Just my own experiences in the pain of purging. And the victory as God takes me from glory to glory…no matter how gory that glory is.
If you stick around, I can’t promise that I’ll always be the good little Christian. But I can promise that I will always be honest, at least as much as a person who writes anonymously can claim to be.
I’m feeling itchy, and antsy, and fed up with the constriction that confines my growth.
I’m ready to shed.
Mark 7: 14-23