salt-shaker.blog

Here we stand under the same skies that also intrigued our distant ancestors. Feeling small as insects we have marveled, wondered, questioned and opined about our place in the whole scheme of things just as they did. I remember one such occasion as a teenager when I was lying on a hill stargazing and waxing philosophical. As I realized the profound smallness of my existence I was wrenched to my very core with a crushing sense of nothingness. It was so intense I had to shake it off and turn away from my thoughts. It was terrifying! Life went on with its flurry of activity, and my experience submerged into obscurity in my consciousness. I cannot adequately describe that tangible terror of insignificance, and perhaps it is this subconscious fear that partially accounts for my drive to do and to accomplish. That starry night undoubtedly also made me more open to the message of being cherished by a supernatural being who had put those stars in place. This happened, however, after a period of adamant denial of His reality. Religion had offended me. Skepticism was validated by the ‘hypocrisy’ of those who ‘believed’. I did not have room in my world view for people who claimed faith in God to be imperfect. I judged Him and His message by the their mistakes – ignoring their repentance. There was a little Pharisee living right alongside that adamant atheist in my heart. Then, after meeting Him in the ditch I had fallen – well, jumped – into, taking His hand and seeing His love, I got saved myself. Then I got religious. Really religious. Legalistic. Like the proverbial frog. Ironic, huh?

After doing both good and damage with exuberant but careless zeal for this newfound life, there came the need for repentance, seeking forgiveness, lament, rethinking and renovation. I learned firsthand how Jesus patiently waits for us to be ready to open doors to the rooms in our heart that are littered with trash. Most rooms need remodeling. One with the clutter of incessant activity, one with cherished worldly expectations, another with illusions that effort outperforms grace, a basement where weakness disqualifies worth, a loud room that begs for the brush of calming humility, an empty storage room needing to be filled with love…  The list goes on.

 What room do you keep locked? I find that there are places in my heart that can only be open for short seasons of vulnerability when I give Jesus the key. Then they must be shut off for a bit because the wound is so profound that He can work only a little at a time. Embracing new light is safe only with Him, the Shepherd of my soul. Like unlayering an onion, bit by bit it becomes refurbished and safe, healed by artful application of the truth by Jesus my Healer. Fear is finally  extinguished and love can flourish. 

There comes a time however, as you keep granting Him permission, when things get out of hand. There is way more than you anticipated in this whole “new creature” thing. It hurts. A lot. It is devastating to see the little house you made with straw, built with good intention and effort, taken down.  Or not – because at any time we can say “Stop!”.

Of course CS Lewis describes it perfectly. “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… But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any 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 being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

So, here we are. One day perhaps we will understand. But for now let us be courageous and patient with ourselves and one another and let Him work. But don’t forget the safety goggles and hardhat!