From the outside, it’s not always obvious what’s going on inside.
Walking through the door, the first thing you might notice is the new coat of paint or the artfully arranged décor. As my guest, I would usher you to the space that has been recently refurbished or show off the flower garden out back that I worked so hard on.
If this was your first visit, you wouldn’t see the rooms that had been collecting dust as a result of neglect or disuse. You probably wouldn’t see the room upstairs or the closet in the basement that was storing a carefully hidden mess. You might not notice the stains on the carpet or the gouge in the wood floor that are oh-so-obvious and glaring to me. In fact, if I was prepared for your visit, I probably would’ve placed a chair over that rip in the carpet and turned on some music so that you wouldn’t hear that pesky, leaking faucet.
If you came again, or stayed long enough, you might notice that the furniture is worn around the edges or that the painting over the fireplace hangs a bit crooked. But, you might also notice that each room and space has it’s own vibe and personality, that there are rare treasures amongst the bric-a-brac and cob-webbed books.
Depending on when you visited, my house might be bright and clean, sun-warmed, with the curtains wide open and a fresh breeze flowing through. Or, it might be cold and uninviting with week-old trash in the kitchen, shutters closed tight, and strange, orange slime in the corners of the shower.
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Have you ever noticed that when you visit someone else’s house it’s generally not the furniture, the décor or even the flaws and limitations that stand out or matter most to you? It’s the spirit that’s within. It’s the warmth with which you’re welcomed and the level of kindness and generosity you’re shown that leaves a lasting impression.
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At this time of year, we traditionally have more people into our homes and find crowds everywhere we go. Ironically, it can also be the time of year that we feel especially guarded or lonely for reasons as varied as we are. The absence of a loved one leaves an aching void. Past emotional scars itch even as we put on the salve of new traditions and family memories. And more.
But…
“God is building a home. He’s using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home… You realize, don’t you, that you are the temple of God, and God himself is present in you? No one will get by with vandalizing God’s temple, you can be sure of that. God’s temple is sacred—and you, remember, are the temple.” -Eph 2/I Co 3, the MSG
In the family of God, these words are true whether you’re currently in a state of disrepair or in show-home condition.
I've always enjoyed this song. It's sad or funny depending on my state of mind when I hear it.
