"Why is it always me who washes the dishes? Everyone eats around here," I muttered. I stacked them in the dishwasher, still as dirty as when I found them and added the mugs and butter plate from the counter. After adding soap I pushed the start button and in a matter of seconds heard the swishing sound of water thrashing against the walls and across my splattered dishes. I stood still just to listen. All that water yet I was completely dry. When it finishes all the mucky food scraps will be gone. Forever. Or until breakfast. 

Then a distant memory drifted in. I had taken my two kids, ages four and two, for a ride in the bike cart. Since we lived in Florida there were no hills to climb, so the effort to pull them behind my bike was not Herculean. Still I had worked up a sweat and my heart rate was thumping. As we rolled into our yard my firstborn stretched and sighed. 

"That was good exercise." My head snapped back. Exercise? His exertion amounted to enjoying the scenery, munching his cookies and the occasional whack to his sister. 

"I did all the work, buddy. It was a forty minute ride and you slept through part of it," I thought, but said nothing.  

While I wiped the kitchen counter, I noticed the irony of my complaint about doing all the dishes. Actually, this handy appliance does the work. I simply make sure they show up on time. 

I recalled a weekend in California when we went camping. John was walking ahead of me with our third child. The trail was steep and John was loaded with a backpack that hid half of his body. In one hand he toted the lantern and in the other he clasped the small hand of Micah, who was five. Micah, for his part, was carrying a box of crackers. Trudging behind them it occurred to me how similar the distribution of weight was to my spiritual journey. I think I am bearing a mighty load.

Actually, God is the heavy lifter. If I show up, He cleans up my act, and ferries me from self absorption to generosity. I may be tempted to buff my nails on my lapel in a congratulatory manner, but truthfully, I am a non paying passenger. 

There is a story in the Bible where the Children of Israel are being chased by the Egyptian army. Then in one of the most dramatic miracles of all time, God leads them across the dry bottom of the Red Sea with walls of water on either side. The army of soldiers on horseback and in chariots come chasing behind them, brandishing swords. Then as Moses raises up his arms, the Red Sea comes crashing and splashing, down upon Pharaoh and all Pharaoh's men. The only thing the Israelites did was stand there. 

Sounds a tad like watching my dishwasher.