Oh, the virtues of a Laodicean sink. Would that mine were one.
I love washing dishes. No, I'm not just saying that; I really do enjoy washing dishes. There are other chores that I enjoy not so much, but washing dishes is soothing for me. Unfortunately, the sink where I currently reside tends to be either quite cold or scalding hot. This poses a slight problem for rinsing the dishes, and each time, I am faced with a decision-- do I burn my fingers, or do I rinse the dishes in cold water?
I was thinking about this today, and I wondered, am I like my sink? When I speak to people, do the words pouring forth from my lips sear like the Refiner's fire? Do I speak the Truth in boldness that tells of the Source of an unquenchable fire in my soul? Or am I merely spouting the mediocrity of a love growing cold?