Kitchen Cleaning Revelations

            I pried up the heavy metal lid and dropped it to the side with a dull thud. Peering in, I realized what I had just done.

            The grease trap was the Pandora’s box of kitchen horror. And I just opened it.

            Wafts of rotten, molding food filled my nose as I began to scoop the dark, murky water from the grease trap. As I struggled to carry the bucket of disgusting liquid down the stairs, it sloshed up and drops of that disgusting liquid splashed onto my jacket and face. Absolutely revolting – I was certain it was going to burn off my skin like acid. I dragged the bucket of grease trap water over the bumpy grass to the rotting compost pit. It rained heavily earlier, and it was already filled nearly to the brim with rainwater. As I poured the contents of my bucket into the pit, a rotting apple floated up from the pit. Some lettuce. Rice.

            It took nearly ten trips. With each trip, it got worse, since all the food that had washed down from the sink this past week had settled on the bottom. The broccoli from the casserole, the green beans, soggy garlic bread, chewed pasta noodles. The delicious meals that we made and enjoyed throughout the week came back to me as disfigured monsters. The stench filled the room, and I scrubbed quickly – the faster I finished, the sooner this torture would end. I scraped away layers of squishy, moldy brown-orange grease that clung to the walls of the grease trap. I would sometimes accidentally brush the sides, which left ugly, filthy, repulsive streaks on my arms.

            It felt like forever and a day. I looked with disdain at that ugly, nasty grease trap – still stained and with scraps of food that I could not scoop up – and with a heavy clang, closed the lid. It is finished.

This was not what I signed up for. I came on this week-long service trip to spend time with the elderly, organize the food pantry, maybe do some construction at the most. The grease trap was not written in the terms and conditions. There was no mention of psychological and physical torture. I think I almost died. 

And then at reflection later that night, I realized something. When was the last time I had to do the dirty work? What is the heart of service and doing the works of the spirit? Are we here for ourselves and to make ourselves feel good, or to really help people’s needs? What if what is needed to be done is not fun, but rather a gruesome task – would we still do it?

Jesus, on the way to the cross, was suffering and abandoned. It was not what he wanted to do, but what was needed to be done. It needed to be done because our world is a grease trap. I am a grease trap. I eat and indulge in what I think is good for me, but all I am left with is disgusting water and rotting scraps inside me. We’re caked with sin. Jesus comes and washes us clean. He gives us the food and drink of eternal life. Jesus came to do the dirty work: He got into our mess. And through it all the ridicule, blood, sweat, and tears, Jesus did it with love and died out of love for us.

How small my heart is compared to the unending generosity of our Lord. I couldn’t even clean a grease trap without scowling and snapping at those around me. Let me tell you, I was NOT a happy camper. Yet cleaning the grease trap, as unpleasant as it was, reminded me why we have Lent and Easter every year. We need to be reminded of what Jesus Christ has done for us. Dying for our sins and conquering death with resurrection to life – this is no small matter! Am I willing to let Jesus clean the grease trap within me? Am I willing to clean the grease trap for others, so that they may also be clean?

God bless the grease trap cleaners. And happy Easter! The Lord is Risen! THE TANK IS CLEAN!