We live in an old house, built in 1904. When we bought it, we knew we faced an entire overhaul of each and every room. It’s been twenty years and we’re still not done, but when I look at the rooms I now love, I appreciate the hard work, unsettling demolitions and great messes we endured to create pleasing, functional spaces.
The dingy gold wallpaper was first–scored, steamed, ripped off and flung into the trash without apology. The indoor-outdoor carpet, once intended to be forever fixed to the original lovely hardwood floors, required merciless scraping. Oh, the nasty foam backing held on, unflinchingly maintaining its grit, forcing the renovator (me) to scrape and scrape again. Then sand. Speaking of sanding, plaster cracks are continual. The windows—our vital connection to and protection from the world—become stuck, require propping and inevitable replacing. It’s a lot, but I love my house. It’s all ours.
When Jesus bought me, He knew He faced an entire overhaul. Before Jesus moves into a person, the world is their prior owner. And the decor can be gauche. If gone unchecked, the world will design in people something uninhabitable by God. One day I yanked open one of those stubborn windows and took a long breath of God’s pure light. I invited Him in and am currently in the process of a transformative interior redesign. It’s a lot, but He loves me and I’m all His.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-4
Meeting God at the Park 