the custodial king

by Joel Bates

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None of us really wanted to be stuck behind a broom or bending over a dirty toilet, but for the sixth time in a week, we were cleaning the camp facilities.  The summer intern assigned as my cleaning partner paused from sweeping river sand off the common-room floor and leaning on his broom said, “This sure doesn’t feel like what I signed up for.” 

He was thinking of the day he applied for an internship at Discovery Ministries.  Back then his brain was full of the idea that working at an adventure camp would be all thrill seeking and daring, expedition leading mixed with the subtle glamour of being a bona fide, rock-climbing instructor.  Canoeing, camping, climbing…YES!  Plunging toilets, restocking paper towels, and sweeping up the place…NO!  This young minister-in-training had a point, and as I considered the discrepancy between his expectations and reality, I shared one of the most valuable lessons I had received as a Bible college student. 

My college courses had teemed with learning opportunities to the point where even decades later my mind swam as I remembered the fine oration of top-notch professors, the mentorship of such a godly cloud of witnesses, and the depth of biblical learning the courses presented.  However, as I vacuumed another bunkroom floor, littered by candy wrappers left by idling teens, I remembered one of the best learning opportunities afforded me in Bible college—the day I hired on to the campus custodial crew. 

My first day they put me with two veteran custodians, James and Bill.  Well past middle age, James had been a successful Iowa farmer, and Bill had worked on the assembly line in a tire factory.  Both men had come out of retirement to make a little extra income, and both men brought experience along with a seasoned work ethic.  James seemed to approach every job as though it was of great importance, and from Bill I never heard an irritated word, just saw a happy smile.  They trained me how to spray down toilets and sweep up dust and showed me the best times of day to vacuum the dorms, but the most important lesson was one they modeled for me.  I would be cleaning the bathroom when, in the next stall over, I would hear one of them scrubbing away grime and softly singing hymns from his childhood.  In this simple act, I witnessed a real-life trade secret of the Kingdom that all my expensive college classes had been trying to teach me in theory: at the core of our life in Christ resides not merely a willingness to do the dirty acts of service, but to actually find enjoyment in it.

Jesus is a jovial custodian at heart.  I wonder if he felt like this was what he signed up for.  Instead of entering the city of Jerusalem upon a muscular steed, the conquering hero, the Son of the Living God Almighty he ministered to ignorant masses in backwater villages and obscure countryside’s mentoring low pedigree country bumpkin disciples.  And what he did was so unexpected, often flipping the script on His hearers.  Remember the times He reached out to touch untouchables?  Or the time He said to allow the little children to interrupt a meeting?  Jesus wasn’t scrubbing a latrine, but the humility He expressed on those occasions is the same.  Oddly, he seemed to enjoy himself immensely as he humbled himself before humanity.  Similarly, there was the time described in John chapter 13, just before He went to the cross.  The table was set, everyone had gathered in the room and the providential pieces of God’s plans were in place. That’s when Jesus, knowing He had the full attention of heaven, got up from the table, took a towel and basin, and became a janitor.  The disciples thought they had seen it all, but before their very eyes, Jesus stooped to new levels to wash the mud from their toes.  In this confusing and lowly scene, the main character demonstrated yet again the essence of God’s heart.  God, who deserves to be seated on a throne and worshiped by everyone and everything that ever was, is, or will be, instead took His place as the meek and lowly custodian.  As strange as this seems, it is deep godliness. 

As the camp intern and I continued cleaned, we reminisced about how God the Father actually cleans and re-cleans our hearts.  Our sanctification process requires a diligent and consistent heavenly Custodian who will identify the blots and stains and apply the elbow grease to disinfect our soul.  We understood then that when we repeatedly and joyfully do our cleaning jobs well, we are becoming more like God in His character. 

There is a day coming when every knee will bow and tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.  The sky will peel back, the thunder will roll, and everyone who is on the Lord’s side will shout for joy. Those who are not will still bow, and they will regret that they, too, did not make this custodial King their God.  We will kneel then as we kneel now with the opportunities to complete simple and mundane acts of worship, like cleaning toilets.  When we serve cheerfully, our knees will be familiar with this posture—the posture of kneeling to clean a toilet, bending low to sweep up the dust, preparing for a coming King. 
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The intern and I went back to our cleaning.  He took up his broom, smiled, and began sweeping dirt in the far corner of the chapel.  As he swept, I could hear him singing.  

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“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, 
knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward.
You are serving the Lord Christ.”
Colossians 3:23-24