Clisthby Goes on Strike

Joshua 24:15 “But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household,we will serve the Lord.”

“The light is on but only a trickle is coming out.” “Do you think it needs more vinegar?”
“My eyes are burning, and it took forever for that vinegar to go through…what are your thoughts?”
“Why do you think the red light is still on, ‘clean’?”

The night I wrote that last blog, “Clisthby and the Buffet Versus Carry-in,” Clisthby we went on strike. We had noticed a new red light that we’ve never seen before. We ignored it for about two days, and then I read it to say “clean.” I thought, “No problem, I’ll do it on the weekend.” Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Every other coffee maker I’ve had, I’d just run vinegar through to eat away the calcium buildup that accumulates in the tubes. Clisthby’s situation, however, was more along the lines of a true butler, with a heart condition. The vinegar angioplasty results were unsuccessful. A second opinion (other than a little red light) with a more aggressive approach was needed.

Eric and I dug in. First things first: we removed every loose part aka pot and removable filter holder. Pulling Clisthby out, we opened his back, fully exposing his innards. It was then we noticed a thin line of coffee grounds running along the line of the watermark above the storage tank. WHAT!?!?

At that moment I had an “Ah, ha!” moment. Clisthby has a stopping mechanism which allows me to pull the pot out from under the filter before he’s actually done brewing. That is a dream come true for those of us who bleed coffee, are a pint low and need a transfusion ASAP. A tiny spring and stopper is one of the most ingenious inventions EVER in the book of coffee connoisseurs.

A few weeks back coffee grounds made their way over the top of the paper insert and wedged the stopper closed. When I didn’t hear the dribbling of magic juice ten minutes after Clisthby set to work, I went investigating. The coffee was trapped in the filter compartment with no where to go. Finally, it overflowed the filter and poured, with grounds, into the storage tank. I stopped it immediately and ran him over to the sink for a cleansing session, complete with scrub brush. I thought I had gotten it all. Obviously I was wrong.

Eric and I hosed Clisthby out again, to no avail. The red light remained on and the water dripped, almost painfully, from the nozzle. We were frustrated. Light Bulb! Eric has a bright idea. We scavenged for the longest straw in the house. Pouring more water into the reservoir, Eric blew air, along with grounds, from the tank to the filter.

Yay! Another thorough rinse aaaaand…drip, drip, drip—Whaaaat?!? Now MY heart hurt! Poor Clisthby! It took nearly 50 years to find him and coffee pot CPR was not working. Sweet and sad memories of morning sleep in’s were running though my mind as I was loosing our virtual butler.

Eric, determined to revive Clisthby, began sucking and spitting the poisonous coffee grounds from Clisthby’s veins (ok, so that might be a tad dramatic). I was bouncing up and down sporting an “ewwww” face but thanking him profusely through clenched teeth of revulsion.

Another thorough cleaning aaaaand dribbled, dribble, STREAM! Eric had resuscitated Clisthby! Hip, hip hooooray!

I was laughing when I told Eric that Clisthby’s timing was perfect since I just mentioned a raise. It was when I mentioned Clisthby’s strike when Heavenly Dad struck my heart.

Clisthby had been working in his own power, like any other coffee maker, doing what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to do it. Tiny grounds, that he had dealt with for years,
built up over time. The reduction of flow was so inconsequential we didn’t even notice until it was too late and stopped his progress all together.

I thought of my own walk with Heavenly Dad. How many times do I let little sins go, little “white” lies to help someone “in the long run,” or texting/Facebooking/anything phone related when I’m supposed to be spending time or doing something else? How long am I going to let those flow through me, building up a wall between me and Heavenly Dad? One day I wake up and complain,”He’s so far away! It’s like my prayers bounce off the ceiling! Where is He? Where did he go?”

Could it be that those little sins stopped up the flow of the Holy Spirit flowing through me? They cut off the nudging of what the next right thing to do is. Whatever I was doing WITH and THROUGH God’s power (like the water tank) became full of me and not Him. The blessing stopped along with my energy and strength from run on “me power” verses “God power.”

I remembered that the “me” is the one with the tiny white sins, the ones that backed up and poisoned the tank: anything I used to do in God’s power.

I was convicted. Like the second opinion, last resort to resurrect Clisthby, there was only way to get the “go” back in the “flow.” I need to get rid of all the loose ends and expose the issues, whatever they are. In the light (the Bible) I can see what is the core/heart issue. It may take a lot of work, be very uncomfortable (even an eeeewy face or two-or more) but the end result will be the Holy Spirit flowing freely once again. With Him comes clarity, peace, energy, wisdom, and power.

Maybe Clisthby was supposed to be teaching me a lesson this week. Wait, could that mean that Clisthby is actually on God’s payroll and not mine? Hmmmm

Until next time: blessings!

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