The Bathroom

I swing around the word ‘hate’ for a lot of things I don’t like. It’s a generational, cultural thing. We seem to over exaggerate just about every single thing we say just to make it seem important. But in this post, keep in mind that when I say the word ‘hate’ I mean it with every fiber of my being.

I work at Cineplex Odeon. A movie theater, for those of you that don’t know. I must clarify, I love my job. I love serving people and making them smile. Even behind the scenes, where I know most people watching movies don’t care about what I’m doing, I enjoy being able to enhance someone’s Cineplex experience. Not even doing dirty work spoils my attitude during a shift. That is, when it’s an accident. Only then.

There is almost nothing on this earth that I Hate like I hate a conscious mess maker. To be ignorant of rules is one thing. Purposely leaving a mess for someone else to clean, that makes me want to throw people down stairs. Long, hard, cold, sharp, unforgiving stairs. When people leave a mess in the theatres, I try my best to pour my anger into clearing it all up and lecturing the mess makers (their parents too) about what it costs us when they screw up. In my head of course. Eventually, I get over the theatres. But there is one thing I have deemed as too disgusting to forgive. Messing with the bathrooms. Yes, I do mean tampering with them. The last appalling act, has driven me pretty far past the “just angry” point. Let me explain.

Some idiot(s) decided (and I use the word idiot because anything else I’ve thought of is too vulgar for me to repeat) they would put paper towel in the urinals. However they felt, for some odd reason, that it was necessary to push the boundaries of their stupidity by clogging them. How do I know it was intentional? It’s impossible to clog a urinal unintentionally. Need I say more?

So why was I so angry about it? Because I was cleaning bathrooms. And those clogged urinals were spewing themselves all over my newly swept & mopped floor. Not once, not twice but repeatedly. All night. It reeked in such a way that I can’t find accurate words to describe exactly how putrid it was. I spent nearly two hours trying to clean up the mess from that alone, not to mention all the other responsibilities I had. But it was part of my job. So, like a good employee, I did what I was asked before I had ever seen the clogged urinals. I cleaned up someone else’s mess.

I left the theatre bitter that night. If I ever met the guys who were responsible, I would find a way to soak them in toilet water. Then maybe make them drink it for good measure. But then I felt God say to me:

“That was what I did for you.”

He cleaned up my mess. If I wasn’t so disgusted by the thought of floors I would have fell and worshipped God right there. Sin is the by product of the consumption of what is evil. Jesus, God in the flesh, became a bloody, emotional mess to save me from my own self-inflicted and sinful one. Put simply, Jesus died cleaning up my purposely clogged urinal. I made a mess on purpose. He cleaned it. And might I add, much better than I could have ever cleaned those bathroom floors.

He waits for you to admit your own so He can come in and completely clean your mess as well. I promise, your record is spotless before Him if you let Him.

1 John 2:2
Forever cleansed,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Squeaky Clean Scribe

Pathetic Puddle of Love

Have you ever had one of those horrible moments when everything you believed to be true was suddenly empty? It feels awful, doesn’t it? Like someone has a firm grip on your heart and with every pump it twists and turns trying to escape. But it can’t. Reality sets in, the dream world vanishes and all you are left with is the fading image of what you now see as a flawed fantasy.

I had this kind of moment August 2’nd, a grand total of about nine days ago, on the plane back from my dads wedding. I was reading a book called ‘Crazy Love’ by Francis Chan and suddenly I felt God tell me to put the book down. In a way I can’t explain, my world just fell apart. A veil fell from my eyes and for the first time I realized something I never thought could be true.

My love for God is shallow.

The realization crashed over me like an ocean wave and left me terrified in my seat. I couldn’t escape the thought. I wanted to scream, and then to cry but I couldn’t do either. I noticed as I searched my heart I didn’t care enough to do either. Not to mention I was on a plane. My dilemma was huge. I had thought all this time I had loved God deeply. I was scarred. Was my life a lie? Was all my faith a lie?

The truth that God revealed to me over the few days was that I am terrified to let Him love me. I know that might sound ridiculous, but it’s true. I am afraid of the loving God of the Bible loving me. Why? Because of how extreme His love is. The cross is the most extreme form of execution in human history. The burden of God’s wrath for all sin, the most extreme sentence of all eternity. Jesus took them both at the same time for me. To make matters worse, He thinks I’m worth it. Really, truly worth it.

Why His does extreme love scare me? Because I can’t ignore love that radical. Whether I close my eyes, try to deny it exists or run from it, I know deep down that it is always there. Never stopping, never resting, never slowing, never ending. Even after acknowledging it I would be swept up by it, unable to resist it. I would be forced to look at myself and realize that there would only be two options from there on out.

Run away forever and never let His love influence my life

OR

Come face-to-face with and embrace His love and be radically changed by the overwhelming reality that I am loved more than I can handle, or reciprocate.

I will never be able to love God as much as He loves me. I will spend my entire life scrambling to try and love Him as much as I can, only to find I can never out give or over commit to our relationship. He is too good. My love will always be a very small puddle, His will always be a vast ocean in comparison.

I have no Bible verse, I have no song, I have no inspiring quote. All I have is this.

I want to get to know this God who loves me so much. I need to know everything about Him. And it will take time, but as I search His Word and seek Him in prayer, I hope with all my heart that my pathetic puddle of love will show the God of the universe that He is truly everything to me.

Will you let God love you?

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Beloved Scribe

Don (Cape Breton Reflections)

It’s been almost a month since the missions trip that I went on to Cape Breton but memories still constantly surface in my mind. It was truly a life changing experience. I remember the outreaches in the skate parks, the quick walks to Harvest House where we ate, and so many laughs. Lately however, I remember one thing in more than all else.

On Sunday morning, the #Elevation worship team led worship at the Lighthouse Community Church’s service. I could go on forever about the refining process of getting there but my memory only points to one person from that morning. But he was not a part of the worship team. In fact he wasn’t even part of the missions team.

His name was Don, (I hope I spelt it right) a man with a crazy life story, and a crazier heart for God. He was sitting near to the back row, further to my left from my position off stage. Early in the singing time I could barely hear anyone, (the music was LOUD and directly behind me) but as the songs slowed down something changed. I could hear everyone singing. They were more passionate, seeking to please God with their beautiful praise that truly did come from the heart. As we played the reprise of Hillsongs ‘Came to my Rescue’ I heard God being glorified and worshipped. However one voice stood out to me.

It was Don. He was as loud, if not louder, than I was with my microphone. His voice resounded around the sanctuary and even when the instruments came back full tilt, Don could be heard singing. I’ll be honest, he didn’t have a great voice. It was raspy and loud. But there was something in it that made me wonder what the beautiful sound was.

It was desperation. A loving, longing, desperation for Jesus. Over every person in that room, myself included, I heard his love and passion for Jesus. It broke my heart to realize I had never heard that before. Not the passion, I’m sure the gathered congregation loved Jesus, what got to me was that Don didn’t seem to care who heard Him. He wasn’t being obnoxious and if he appeared so, he didn’t care. He sang his heart out to the One he loved without any shame.

It reminded me of David dancing through the streets of Jerusalem in almost nothing when the Ark of the Covenant was brought back to the city. When his wife disapproved he simply said “…I’ll become even more undignified than this” . No shame, no embarrassment. The Lord receiving Davids worship was more important than his public AND private appearance.

Here’s the hard question. It’s one I’ll close with. Answer honestly. Are you willing to degrade yourself in the eyes of others to show your complete passion for Jesus?

2 Samuel 6:12-23,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Scribe

Doing the Single Ladies Dance

For those of you who don’t know, my dad lives in Florida. Occasionally I swing down to visit him and we spend time catching up & creating new memories. Being the busy & multi-talented man he is, I see him do different jobs here & there. However there is one job above all the others that stands out. My dad is a Zumba Instructor.

Zumba is a blend of Latin-American dances, made to be a form of exercise (if I’ve got the concept right) . It’s a lot of fun & has caught on around North America.

Zumba instructors are allowed to add a little… Personal flare to their class. My dad does a joint class with his newly wed wife Amy (love you guys!) and so their sets are exciting. With their room for that… personal flare they put in a couple radio hits to get their classes into what they’re doing. One of them, was Beyonce’s Single Ladies.

I was in a class this week. And yes… I (can’t believe I’m saying this) DID the Single Ladies dance.

If you’re going to laugh, now is the time.

Done? Okay. Now for the story.

It all started when my brother Jordan said I couldn’t do a full Zumba class. I was going to do the class anyway but his challenge spurred me to action. I put on my blue track pants and my breezy grey T-shirt and left with for a Zumba fitness work out.

We arrived, set up for the class, watched a couple Old Spice commercials to pass the time and then class began. I stepped out on to the floor, sort of knowing what to expect. I also was prepared to look stupid. It was my first class so I thought had some sort of awareness of how bad this could turn out. Little did I know, I was in for the shock of my life.

“All the Single Ladies!”

“Oh no…” I thought. I was about to step off the floor when I saw my dad, who was taking a water break, literally run back to the front of the class to teach it with Amy. No shame, no embarrassment, nothing. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying himself.

Side note: My dad is a phenominal dancer so while doing the dance he looked good.

I had no choice now, I had to do it. I also remembered Jordan jeering at me. I had to try. So I started. The toe tapping with the finger twist (if you like it then you should’ve put a ring on it) was awkward. The part that looks like an Egyptian sidestep was odd. Anything that involved booty shaking, neigh impossible for me. And I have never rolled my hips that much. Ever. I looked absolutely out of place. Totally ridiculous. The worst part, I knew it.

There came a moment, and I do mean a brief second, where I stopped. I was going to give up. I looked foolish doing a dance I hated. I could join in on the next song. But then I looked at my dad and thought “He doesn’t care what anyone is saying or would say. I’ll just follow him. If I look stupid at least he’ll be proud that I tried.”

So I went for it. The toe tapping stayed awkward, the Egyptian thingy got a little easier to do (stayed sloppy), and MAN! My hip rolling was looking half decent by the end. Just half. But I had followed Dad. That was it for me…

Now you all knew this was coming, but I’m going to say it anyway. How many times have you felt God call you to do something that felt ridiculous? To do things your classmates or co-workers would make fun of you for or would gossip about? Some of you reading this don’t struggle at all because you don’t obey God. I would re-evaluate where you stand with God. It’s not cool to disobey Him. In fact I’ve heard the punishment is hot…

Some of us struggle to obey. It’s hard. We want to but certain things push your boundaries. They are too extreme. I ask, do we really believe that we can limit what God asks you to do? Who do we think we are, trying to direct the God of the universe?

Then there are those who believe they are obeying God. I’ve been here recently. I’m not saying you aren’t but I know that one area of my life was definitely not where God wanted it. And I ignored His voice until He had to get drastic. If you believe you’re obeying, check out the Bible & see if you’re doing what is in His will. It helps clear up who’s voice we’re listening to. Sometimes, as I’ve learned, it’s not always Gods.

I pray for us all that we would look in Scripture and follow God like Jesus did. Without looking left or right, just straight at God. That got Him through everything. Just like looking at my dad got me through the doing the Single Ladies dance. Our obedience may look ridiculous to the world, but why should we be embarrassed? We’re copying the most beautiful being in the universe. It’s the world that should be embarrassed for not joining in.

Romans 1:16,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Single Ladies dancing Scribe