When I’m not teaching, I get to spend my mornings with the coolest 2-year-old in the world—my best friends’ little boy.

While playing with his Thomas The Train bubbles the other day, he wanted to take charge of the bubble dispenser and wand. He let me know, very declaratively, “I do it Jess!”

Like any normal 2-year-old in Erikson’s Autonomy vs. Shame/Doubt psychosocial developmental stage, he wanted to blow the bubbles on his own.

Like any normal adult wanting to foster a sense of independence and self-sufficiency, I let him.

Within three seconds, the bubble soap was all over the ground.

When I commented, “Ah man, the soap spilled everywhere; that happens when we turn it upside down,” he just looked at the spilled suds, and said, “That’s ok. Get gummy” (“gummy” = vacuum). He then pretended that the backyard hose was a vacuum attachment, and proceeded to vacuum up the spilled soap.

As I was watching him, I thought, “Wow, how glorious would it be if all of life’s mistakes and mess-ups could be vacuumed up? How awesome would it be if our blunders could disappear with just a bit of suction?”

And then I got a visual of Jesus on the cross.

On the cross, Jesus absorbed our missteps, mistakes, and blunders. His death soaked up the messes of our lives. It was a costly act. Actually, very costly. And yet, one of the many paradoxes of the cross, is that God’s love, grace, and forgiveness flowed instantly and freely from it. And it’s this very love, grace, and forgiveness that instantly, and continuously, soak up the worst messes we can make.

When God sees the spills of our lives, I think he says the same thing as my little guy, “That’s ok. Get gummy.”