For he has rescued us from the kingdom of darkness and transferred us into the Kingdom of his dear Son, who purchased our freedom and forgave our sins. [Colossians 1:13-14 (NLT)]
This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun! [2 Corinthians 5:17 (NLT)]
As for the “House of Lost Dreams,” about which I wrote yesterday—almost overnight, where once a dilapidated ruin stood, a beautiful house now stands. The roof tiles are repaired and clean, the house is freshly painted, the overgrown yard tamed, and a “For Sale” sign stands in the yard.
That “For Sale” sign tells me the people who redeemed and refurbished the house saw it not as a home but as an opportunity for profit. They certainly had their work cut out for them; the interior was probably infested by insects and animals and covered with mold. This hot humid climate is brutal to abandoned property and within three years a house can become irreparable. I imagine the house now looks as beautiful inside as it does from the road but I wonder if the changes were only cosmetic. What about the mold deep in the drywall and wood? Is there dry rot in the framework? Are there cracks in the foundation or stucco? What about termites? Did the contractor paint over mold rather than replace wood and drywall? Did he cut corners to increase his profit? Unfortunately, not all rehabbers are ethical and honest. I only hope that the “House of Lost Dreams” doesn’t become a nightmare for whoever eventually buys it.
In our northern community, Habitat for Humanity has started buying up foreclosed abandoned properties and rehabbing them into homes for Habitat recipients. We recently toured one of those Habitat homes while it was still a work in progress. It had been stripped down to its bare bones. Drywall, furnace, appliances, cabinets, and wiring were gone—all that remained was the frame. It is now being rebuilt with new materials by volunteers and the home’s new owners who will purchase it with sweat equity and monthly payments.
Rebuilt from the ground up—that’s pretty much what happens to us when Jesus redeems us. Of course, he doesn’t have to deal with bankers and title companies but He pays off our debt to God, assumes ownership of us, and moves right in. His is not a slap-dash skin-deep surface repair (as I suspect of the Florida house) because He is making a home fit for a King! Like the Habitat builders, He takes his time while repairing and restoring us. Although He doesn’t gut us or strip us of our wiring, He’s not about to let any mold, filth, defective parts, or pests remain. He cleans up the mess, fixes what’s broken, patches the holes, pulls out the weeds, and plants a spiritual fruit tree in the garden.
Although some homes are too far gone for even the best rehabber or most devoted Habitat group, none of us are too far gone for Jesus. He doesn’t care how long we’ve been neglected, how broken-down we are, how cracked our foundation or how rotten our core. Once redeemed, He restores us. He’ll never abandon or sell us and, as a plus, He gives us our own personal handyman in the way of the Holy Spirit!
For the last several years, we’ve frequently driven by a house we called the “House of Lost Dreams.” Apparently forsaken by both bank and borrower, we watched as tarps blew off windows, roof tiles grew black with mold, and ivy and kudzu grew on the walls. Eventually, plants nearly obscured the deteriorating house from view as Mother Nature took back ownership of the land.
We’d purchased a gift card at a grocery store for someone in serious financial straits and started talking about her, wondering how she got so deep in debt. A lot of unwise decisions combined with the loss of employment and topped off by major health issues was the answer. We then reminded ourselves that our task is not to analyze the hows, whys, could haves and shouldn’t haves of her or anyone else’s life—our task is simply to lay some love on our neighbors.
Our pastor once told the story of a recently married parishioner. After a long day of travel, he and his new wife finally arrived at their hotel. The groom hoisted the bride in his arms and opened the door to their deluxe suite. It had a beautiful view of the beach, a small kitchenette, and an elaborate entertainment system. What it didn’t appear to have was a bed! They finally checked the sofa and discovered it was a hide-a-bed. They were exhausted and, deciding it was too late to complain, the newlyweds unfolded the bed and settled in. Like most hide-a-beds, this one had a thin mattress and two supporting bars that seemed to dig into whatever part of the body was downward. The couple tossed and turned and, needless to say, their honeymoon night did not meet their expectations.
Carrying posters, displaying bumper stickers, wearing t-shirts, or hash tagging with the words, “He’s not my president!” changes absolutely nothing. After today, he is. How we voted, who got the popular vote, whether we’re happy or outraged, whether we have faith in him or not makes no difference. This is what we have for the next four years.
“The Lord is my portion,” wrote the prophet Jeremiah. Throughout the Bible, a wide variety of metaphors are used to describe God— rock, refuge, shield, shepherd, fortress, potter, and light—but portion is one of my favorites. Portion refers to one’s share—be it of plunder, an inheritance, or food. Not being a soldier, I can’t relate to the spoils of war and I’ve seen way too many inheritances argued over or squandered to associate those meanings with God. Food, however, is something to which we all can relate.
Devotions of the Heart 