Fixer Upper

Having owned a home now for two years, I can attest that little things can add up to big problems. Like a small leak at the base of a water heater or toilet. I was adamant when purchasing a home to get one that wouldn’t need more than routine maintenance, as I wasn’t interested in putting a ton of work into my first home beyond paint and sealing up a few nail holes. I am handy and thanks to YouTube (and my dad’s advice over the phone) I can manage the hiccups of a leaky toilet valve or busted garbage disposal with relative confidence.

Where I like to exert my control in fixing it for myself is my own inner life, thoughts and words, actions and memories long past. You see, I like to cast off any assumptions that someone, that God Himself, would know better than me and take it fully in my control to do better, to be better, to clean up the inner home of my life.

Oh I give God my life, my heart…seeking His will in the big of life, decisions and questions of which I feel He knows better. But when it comes to my inner home within? Well I have it setup how I like it, situated and decorated with what I know and trust are good for me.


Then I see walls I have built to hole up past regrets, moments of anger or jealousies long buried. Recently I had the opportunity to visit one of the oldest standing buildings in the state of Mississippi. Oh if those walls could talk and tell the stories of all the things going on there. One day those walls did tell a story, of a woman who was killed and bricked up in a fireplace because of a jealous wife, angered by her husband’s betrayal of their marriage. Her jealousy came tumbling out when those walls gave way in a demolition project in the early 1930’s, exposing the shameful act of revenge and brokenness of life.

A similar demolition needs to happen within my inner home. One that doesn’t have me pulling out the sheet rock and shiplap, but one that steps aside for God to enter in with His hammer of truth to tear down walls I have built. To sweep out the corners where the webs of doubt and fear have built up, and pull out the long since hidden memories that lie to my heart to reconstruct something for Him. A home built on His foundation of truth, the Cornerstone of Christ that isn’t just repurposed and reclaimed but renewed. A home within that invites Him into sit at the table and feast, that pulls up a seat at the desk to accomplish work for Him.

It’s not easy relinquishing control to an unknown vision for your home. To sign over your rights in order to have something new, something good, something beautiful. You have to step aside and trust that in tearing down walls, peeling back wallpaper and floorboards, God will see the bared life before Him, exposed. No longer hiding or controlling what is seen, but laid out to the beams in order that He can construct that which is good, using what is already present to build a home worth residing in, repurposing that which we fought to hide to be something of good for His glory.

I just have to hand over the keys in trust, in faith knowing His control supersedes my need to fix up myself.

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