On rug rescues and God's mysterious ways
I recently discovered a subgenre of YouTube ASMR videos that have caught my attention, late at night with nothing to do:
Rug rescues.
I know, I know, relevant. I proffer that I’ve never in my life cleaned a rug, don’t have the interest to learn how, and even if I did-- well, I probably wouldn’t do it anyway, so there.
So. Rug rescues. What does that mean, exactly?
In lieu of expecting you to actually watch the miracle happen for yourself, I will describe it briefly. These videos involve rugs. Not just any rugs, no no no: Nasty, dirty, filthy rugs, full of maggots and spiders, rescued from backyard gardens and rubbish heaps, some of them so filthy the patterns in the rug are no longer visible. And the people involved? Somehow, they work their soapy magic and restore them. Several hours, brushing machines, and lots of vigorous squeegeeing later, the rugs come out brilliantly clean and colorful, exactly as they looked hot off the weaving machine. I would call it a miracle, but there’s nothing mysterious or beyond comprehension at work-- it’s just the toil of men and women dedicated to their craft, who, utilizing the appropriate tools and space and with a little elbow grease bring these rugs back from the brink of obliteration so they can be restored to their proper place in a dining room.
Well, God speaks to us all in ways we understand, and They knew that I would be watching a video about rug cleaning in order to impart a particularly impactful message:
Just as these cleaning men restore their rugs, so God does with us.
We may be buried in a trash heap, filthy with despair, laced through with flaws and errors like insects. We may be so marred that our current status no longer bears any resemblance to our original state, that of a child: innocent and bright and pure, but no longer. And God? They rescue us. They come where we are. They see the worth and value we have, and if we are willing, They will pull us out of the trash heap and restore us. It’s sometimes a slow process. Sometimes painful and tiring. Sometimes it seems like they are done but there is still so much dirt left. So they keep going, and keep going, and keep going, until we are cleansed and beautiful and full of color once again.
Fortunately, we are not just rugs. We are Their children. And They not only know how to cleanse us as a master cleanser, but weave us anew. And unlike mortal rugs, there is no child beyond their capacity to rescue.
This I know. Of all things I don’t know, this I do.
Rug rescues.
I know, I know, relevant. I proffer that I’ve never in my life cleaned a rug, don’t have the interest to learn how, and even if I did-- well, I probably wouldn’t do it anyway, so there.
So. Rug rescues. What does that mean, exactly?
In lieu of expecting you to actually watch the miracle happen for yourself, I will describe it briefly. These videos involve rugs. Not just any rugs, no no no: Nasty, dirty, filthy rugs, full of maggots and spiders, rescued from backyard gardens and rubbish heaps, some of them so filthy the patterns in the rug are no longer visible. And the people involved? Somehow, they work their soapy magic and restore them. Several hours, brushing machines, and lots of vigorous squeegeeing later, the rugs come out brilliantly clean and colorful, exactly as they looked hot off the weaving machine. I would call it a miracle, but there’s nothing mysterious or beyond comprehension at work-- it’s just the toil of men and women dedicated to their craft, who, utilizing the appropriate tools and space and with a little elbow grease bring these rugs back from the brink of obliteration so they can be restored to their proper place in a dining room.
Just as these cleaning men restore their rugs, so God does with us.
We may be buried in a trash heap, filthy with despair, laced through with flaws and errors like insects. We may be so marred that our current status no longer bears any resemblance to our original state, that of a child: innocent and bright and pure, but no longer. And God? They rescue us. They come where we are. They see the worth and value we have, and if we are willing, They will pull us out of the trash heap and restore us. It’s sometimes a slow process. Sometimes painful and tiring. Sometimes it seems like they are done but there is still so much dirt left. So they keep going, and keep going, and keep going, until we are cleansed and beautiful and full of color once again.
Fortunately, we are not just rugs. We are Their children. And They not only know how to cleanse us as a master cleanser, but weave us anew. And unlike mortal rugs, there is no child beyond their capacity to rescue.
This I know. Of all things I don’t know, this I do.
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