Spiritual Potty Training

Spiritual Potty Training

How to Flush the Funk, Spray Some Grace, and Leave the Room Better Than You Found It

By Kateb Shunnar

I don’t know why this hit me so hard, but as I started writing, my chest got heavy and my eyes watered up. Maybe because this revelation is equal parts funny and painfully true. We’re talking about potty training. Yeah, you heard me potty training. The thing every single one of us had to learn as toddlers, whether we liked it or not.

Some of y’all had parents who bribed you with candy. Some had patient grandmothers with nerves of steel, others had uncles or aunties who yelled through the bathroom door like you were landing a plane “Did you wipe? Don’t forget to flush! Wash your hands, too!” And if you grew up in a house like mine, you didn’t just “go” and walk away. Oh no. You wiped. You flushed. You scrubbed those little fingers until they squeaked. Then, to seal the deal, you sprayed something to remind the next person, “Yes, a human went in here, but they left it decent.”

Sometimes it was Glade . Sometimes it was incense so strong it smelled like a head-on collision between lavender and a tire fire. Either way, we all learned the same lesson: don’t leave your stink behind for someone else to deal with.

Now, when I was younger, my mom and grandmother used to say, “There’s a spiritual side to every physical thing.” I had no clue what that meant. As a kid, I just nodded like I understood and went back to eating snacks. Honestly, it took me twenty-five years before that seed sprouted. Call me slow, but when it finally hit me, it hit hard.

Here’s what I realized: potty training isn’t just about the bathroom. It’s about life. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally we all need potty training. And truth be told, a lot of us are still waddling around in diapers on the inside.

Now don’t roll your eyes think about it.

Emotionally: we hang on to grudges, jealousy, heartbreaks, and bitterness like they’re trophies. Then we wonder why nobody wants to get too close.

Mentally: we let old thoughts stink up our present. “I’m not enough.” “Nobody cares.” “I’ll never change.” That’s like shoving three rolls of toilet paper down the drain and acting surprised when the water backs up.

Spiritually: we cling to guilt, shame, pride, bad habits, and straight-up funky attitudes. We’re supposed to be temples, but sometimes we’re more like porta-potties at a county fair.

And here’s the kicker when we don’t learn how to properly release that junk, we don’t just stink up our own space. We leave the whole room smelling like our mess.

Now, let me break it down with some bathroom metaphors, because that’s how my brain works.

Constipation = unforgiveness. You hold onto things you should’ve let go a long time ago, and now you’re all blocked up. Spiritually constipated people walk around stiff, cranky, and short-tempered. You can see it in their face. Let go already.

Diarrhea = oversharing. You’ve met them the folks who dump every thought, every wound, every complaint on anyone within a five-foot radius. No filter. Just spraying everywhere. Sometimes you gotta learn the art of timing.

Skid marks = half-forgiveness. You wiped, but not really. You said, “I forgive,” but you’re still holding on to the stain. You bring it up every chance you get. That’s not clean that’s residue.

Air freshener = grace. Even when you’ve done your business, you can make the atmosphere better for whoever comes after you. Spray kindness. Spray patience. Spray compassion.

Now let me tell you a little folklore one that may sound made-up, because, well, it is, but who says new folklore can’t be born today?

Long ago, in a tiny village by the sea, lived a boy named Tovi. Tovi was clever, but stubborn. His problem? He hated washing up after using the bathroom. He’d do his thing and just strut away like nothing happened. “It’s just me,” he’d laugh. “Why bother?”

At first, people ignored it. Kids are kids. But soon, something strange happened. Wherever Tovi walked, flies followed. His smell clung to him like an old coat. People crossed the street when they saw him coming. Even the stray dogs refused to follow him. The baker stopped selling him bread.

Finally, the village elder pulled him aside. “Son, don’t you see? The filth you refuse to wash off doesn’t stay behind. It follows you. And it burdens everyone else, too.” But Tovi just shrugged. “It’s just a smell. Who cares?” The elder shook his head. “Waste left unwashed becomes more than a smell it becomes your identity.”

According to the tale, one night, Tovi’s shadow grew so heavy with filth that it broke away from him. Imagine your own shadow looking at you like, “Bruh, I’m out.” From then on, he wandered hollow, searching for what he had lost. Parents told that story for generations not just to scare kids into bathing, but to teach them: wash your heart, not just your hands.

Now, that story sounds funny, but if we’re being honest? A lot of us are walking around like Tovi. We stink emotionally, mentally, spiritually. We’re buzzing with flies of resentment and pride. And we don’t even notice anymore.

And here’s where I throw in some sarcasm: nothing says “I’m spiritually mature” like dragging the same grudge around since Bill Clinton was in office. Nothing says “I’m healed” like bringing up what your cousin did to you in 2003 every time y’all get together. Some of us talk about forgiveness while still carrying around emotional skid marks.

Potty training is awkward. Messy. Sometimes downright funny. If you’ve ever potty trained a toddler, you know there are accidents on the carpet, bribes with candy, frustrated sighs, cheering for tiny victories, and sometimes tears (yours and theirs). But it’s worth it. Because without potty training, you stay stuck. Nobody wants to be forty years old still crawling around in a diaper. And spiritually? Same rule applies.

Let me pause and get personal. There have been seasons in my life where I held onto things for so long I couldn’t even smell myself anymore. You ever been there? You get used to your own funk. It becomes normal. Then one day, someone who cares enough comes close and says, “Brother, you stink. Time to clean up.” At first, you’re defensive. “Me? Nah, I smell fine.” But deep down, you know you’ve been marinating in bitterness, resentment, or shame for years. And the rash has already set in. That’s when humility becomes your saving grace.

And here’s the beautiful part: the Creator doesn’t shame us in this process. He doesn’t roll His eyes and say, “Here we go again.” No He’s like a loving parent cheering when the toddler finally gets it right. Heaven celebrates when we flush away guilt, when we wipe off shame, when we spray kindness instead of cruelty. Every little step counts.

And don’t forget someone had to teach us how to potty train. We didn’t figure it out alone. Somebody had patience, cleaned up our accidents, encouraged us to keep trying. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally we need to do the same for others. With patience. With humor. With grace. Nobody gets it perfect the first time.

So, here’s my bottom line: spiritual potty training is weird, funny, messy, embarrassing but it’s the only way to grow. Flush what doesn’t belong. Wipe away what stains. Wash yourself in grace. Spray kindness so the next person doesn’t walk into your funk. And walk out free.

Because at the end of the day, life is one long training session. And the sooner we learn to let go, the lighter we’ll walk, the freer we’ll live, and the sweeter the air will be for everyone around us.