Under Construction

I don't own a home.

Someday (sooner rather than later) I hope to have a house where I can spend weekends painting walls, pulling weeds, and crossing things off the never ending to-do list of home ownership.

Often times, however; I see our friends and family fixing yet another leaky faucet or replacing yet another deceased appliance and I am thankful for the on call handyman who not only fixes the problem at hand, but pays for it as well.

Sometimes the repairs that need to be made to a house are necessary.

Other times they are simply brought about by a desire for a more modern amenity or a more aesthetically pleasing appearance.

Either way a house is always changing.

Usually becoming something bigger, better, and more beautiful.

Have you ever thought that we as human beings are a lot like houses?

We are constantly being remodeled and repaired.

Sometimes the work is necessary and it is obvious what tools are going to be used for the job.

Other times everything seems to be working properly, but something just doesn't look right.

Some kind of change needs to me made.

I recently found the following quote by C.S. Lewis (which is currently my favorite of the moment):

" Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently, He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of--throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace."

In many instances the repairs and redesign that are being performed by that great contractor are confusing and uncomfortable, just like Mr. Lewis described.

At those times we usually prefer the little cabin in the woods to the mansion.

Thankfully, we don't see the master plan.

We can't anticipate the next crushing blow of the wrecking ball or even the less noticeable tightening of a pipe or two.

I think if we could see the blueprints we would live our lives in fear.

Even if we knew (and we do) that in the end we were going to be that grand palace, it is far too easy to shy away from pain and stretching and tears and grief.

While preparing for my speaking assignment on Sunday I cam across these passages of scripture in Ephesians:

"And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone; In whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto a holy temple in the Lord: In whom ye also are builded together for an habitation of God through the Spirit." (Ephesians 2:20-22)

Isn't it wonderful to know that there is purpose in the construction?

That when all is said and done if we have created that solid foundation through the teachings and example of our Savior, Jesus Christ then there is nothing to fear.

Everything that happens during the process of creating and then recreating that "holy temple of the Lord", is just a means to the end.

And in the end we are going to become magnificent palaces, holy temples.

A place where God can dwell with and teach us for all eternity.

The hard part seems to be remembering the final scene when the walls are crashing down and we brush up against a wall covered in wet paint.