Have you ever heard of a “flush test?”
Here’s the basic idea: when new sports stadiums are built, one of the final steps before opening is a “flush test” where every toilet is flushed simultaneously to make sure adequate pressure and pipe capacity exists.
Local news people love these tests as they report live from the scene. A massive number of volunteers show up to make it all happen. They usually get a t-shirt for their trouble along with the lifelong bragging rights and glory associated with being a designated flusher.
It is nothing more than a stress test, making certain that even if everyone shows up and flushes at once, the infrastructure will handle it.
For example, Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas went through what they called a “super flush” where 1,430 toilets and urinals were flushed while the sinks in 297 restrooms were on in order to see if the plumbing system was up to the maximum possible stress of 65,000 fans.
As a pastor, this is something I’ve talked about with our staff before. Are our community groups or kids ministries or Sunday services ready for all possible stressors? Do we have sturdy, stress-proof processes or have set up fragile systems that are easily overwhelmed if too many people “flush” at once?
As a human being, I think we have something personal to learn here, too. We’re good at organizing life to maximum efficiency. We fill up our schedules with every possible commitment, leaving little margin for anything extra or unexpected. It’s a house of cards and we all know it. Add the slightest weight to the bloated schedules of modern people - illness or trauma or trial or tragedy - and everything comes crumbling down.
I’ve been guilty of this recently. I overpacked my calendar, ignored some usual rest rhythms, and generally overcommitted myself - all to good things, mind you. I was preaching about the beautiful reality of modern love and serving local organizations and making extra time to walk alongside the people God has given me to serve.
In doing so, I eliminated the margin, the extra space that exists to cushion us when things get rough. And then things got rough and I stated getting a little edgy. (I like to say I’m noticeably “crispy” or “spicy” in these seasons - which really just makes me want a delicious fried chicken sandwich now that I think about it.)
So a friend (and member of our church staff) texted my wife and said “Hey, Kyle’s looking a little crispy.” And my wife agreed and I decided to listen to the Holy Spirit in them and scheduled a week off as soon as I was able. Only between that moment and that blessed week of renewal that was to come, a new and larger and more wonderful grenade rolled into our ministry world and exploded.
And we dealt with it. We loved people in difficult places. We handled the unfolding drama as well as possible. And it was fine. But, lacking margin for it, I went from getting a little crispy to needing to reset and take some time away to avoid becoming a full-on flame-broiled pastor.
I failed the flush test.
My week that was supposed to be about renewal and restoration - think of a depleted phone battery being charged back up to 100% - became more about recovery and repair - just getting the battery back to 4% so the phone would at least turn on.
(And I’m fine now, thanks for asking. I been able to reset for the time being and build margin back in. I have time set aside for deeper renewal and I reclaimed my healthier rhythm along the way.)
So here I am to ask you what I am asking myself: do you have space built into your life to hear from God or make a move or handle something extra or deal with the trials that life eventually brings to all of us?
If you flushed all of the toilets of your life at once, how would that go for you?
- KB
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🎙 On the sermon front, I finished THE WAY this weekend, meaning that you now have access to all 43 weeks worth of these sermons to choose from - https://bgcovenant.org/sermons/the-way/
I love this for so many reasons. Thank you, Kyle!