Wet Sock Spirituality

After 9 mos with a leaky kitchen faucet, I finally had it replaced last week. I took matters into my own hands. I trudged the 10 minute trek to the “Home Depot” and selected a shiny new faucet, called the maintenance guy all by myself, and watched him install it for a whopping 2$. (Gotta love the “wu ye!” I call to ask them to install the sink, and they hesitate… “Mam, it won’t be free…. It’s going to cost… 2$... Do you still want it installed?” Are you kidding me?)

For 9 mos, I have tolerated (but gritched and griped about) the leaky faucet. You see, there are various coping mechanisms. I put a washcloth around the neck of the faucet, which catches about 10-90% of the drip. The remaining 90-10% creates anywhere from a small trickle to Lake Michigan on the tile floor. This leads to throwing dish towels on the floor to catch the spillover. This leads to excess laundry. This leads to an empty towel drawer, because I only fold clothes once a week. So inevitably, when you’ve got end-of-the-week spillage with no towels in the drawer, and then you throw wet socks into this picture…

I positively despise wet socks. Wet, barefoot feet—no problem. But wet socks?? Ugh! And we have cold tile floors all throughout the house, which means I’m always wearing socks. The astute observer may at this point offer a variety of other suggestions. Why, you might ask, don’t you wear house shoes? Or, maybe a dish towel up on the drain may catch it before it runs onto the floor. Perhaps fold your laundry more often? No, no—these just aren’t my style.

Or you may simply wonder--why did it take you so long to buy a new faucet?

I tried to fix it own my own once. I bought caulk, and a caulk gun and glued that stuff all over the place. It sprung a leak. I added more caulk. The dam broke. After a third application, I thought I finally had it down. Until I tried to swivel the faucet to the side. Duh.

But today was the day—new faucet day. As I was basking in the glory of the replaced piece, enjoying my dry socks, the maintenance guy turns to me and says, “This faucet you bought is really cheap. It won’t last very long. I think they cheated you.”

I think that my spiritual life can sometimes be like my perpetually leaky faucet. Something is seeping out that shouldn’t be. I begin to realize it, and I don’t like my socks wet, so I try the best things I know to fix it myself. Try harder. Change my socks. Wash the towels. Apply more caulk. It seems to work for awhile, but eventually the towel drawer is empty and my socks are sopping…all my efforts have all failed. What to do?

I need a new faucet. I need a radical transformation, not just some band-aid remedy. Taking a nap, finishing the job later, or asking Jim to do the dishes… well, these just don't fix the leak. But until I get fed up enough and realize that all my coping mechanisms aren’t going to cut it, I won’t call for help.

Lucky for me, my Maintenance Man offers unparalleled service and his replacement parts are always top quality. He is available 24 hours a day, and yet charges nothing. But here my analogy breaks down. He is not an on-call workman, uninvolved in my life 364 days of the year yet swooping in to fix my problems when I beg for help. He is ever-present, lovingly committed to exposing my wet socks and bringing the gospel of the new faucet when I am finally fed up with my self-made solutions. He has a new faucet for me, bubbling over with mercy and grace. Do I believe this? “I believe… Help my unbelief!”

How about you? Tired of your wet socks?