In Process: How Renos Parallel Life
“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 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.”-C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
In 2022, Lars and I bought a small fixer-upper.
Correction: our house is small, but the fixer-upper aspect of it is vast. When we first stepped into the carpeted kitchen, the musty smell of mildew assaulted us. I may have imagined it, but every step left puffs of dust in its wake. The drop ceiling poorly hid fifteen rows of fluorescent lightbulbs.
As we continued through the house, we found more chaos. Neither the bathroom (peeling wallpaper and ceiling paint), the basement (mustard yellow carpeted walls), nor the bedroom (mint green and dilapidated) screamed ‘Home sweet home.’ Looking at it, we knew it would be a huge amount of work.
Now, nearly two and a half years later, we have made dozens of changes and poured hours of work into our little home. And still, nearly two and a half years later, the amount of work yet to be done feels endless. We disposed of the kitchen carpet very quickly, but the shaggy carpet still adorns the basement walls. We mudded and repainted the bedroom, but the baseboards still aren’t perfect. We peeled the wallpaper off the bathroom walls and retiled the shower, but the walls are still unfinished and holey.
And the cost, friends. The cost! Every project finds us reaching into our wallets, draining our bank accounts for the aesthetic.
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The other day, I walked up our (very carpeted) stairs. The (very carpeted) walls beside me still reeked of must and 80 years’ worth of dust. In my arms, I balanced a load of clean laundry. It hit me again just how much work there is within the walls of our little home. How long it’s going to take. How much time, effort, and money it will require.
And still, we can live in this subpar space. It’s not perfect, but within the mess, chaos, and flaws, there are corners of beauty, tranquility, and light.
Over and over, the renovations reveal just how impatient I am. I want things to be righted and fixed yesterday. I want all the projects to be done, the last swath of paint dried on the wall. I want the imperfections smoothed out as though they were never there in the first place.
And isn’t that just the human experience? We want it done and we want it done now. We’ve become so accustomed to instantaneous and automatic that we don’t really have margin for waiting or delay. For stopping to stay for tea when our to-do lists beckon.
But oh, how glorious that God is not impatient as we are.
“But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.
The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”-2 Peter 3:8-9, NIV, emphasis added
That day, as I hauled laundry up our grotesquely carpeted stairs, it struck me how the state of our house parallels the state of the Christian life.
Like the unfinished basement, the dank gloom of the carpet room, and the bare, fluorescent bulbs in our kitchen, there are so many areas of life that feel untouched by God’s transformative grace. No, I’m not the same person that I used to be, but I’m far from perfect. Do you feel this way, too? That no matter how hard you try, you inevitably mess up, fail, and fall short of who God created you to be? That there are repetitive sins you feel you should be over by now, but somehow you’re just not?
God, in His kindness, doesn’t show us the full depth of our flaws in one fell swoop. He sees it all, but He reveals it to us in little pieces, slowly peeling away layer after layer of gunky wallpaper. Gently prying off the old baseboards and plastering over the holes.
All of these things take time. Time that God has in abundance. He doesn’t rush us through the process, knocking out all the walls and razing us to the ground. He takes His time, smoothing out the rough edges, selecting an idyllic shade of paint, tackling one or two projects at a time.
He’s not only interested in an outward, aesthetic transformation, though. He’s taking time because time is what it takes to elicit real heart change. He’s swapping out the rotting joists for fresh, new ones. He’s finding the leaks and properly stopping them up. He’s adjusting the very foundations of our souls, showing us the cracks we’ve been balancing on until now. He’s swallowing up death in victory. And He’s doing it in a way that enhances the personality He’s given us, not taking it away.
And the cost? He spares no expense. He paid the price for our soul-renovations with the life of His own Son. His dearly beloved, perfect Son. In this miraculous exchange, He gives so that we can receive. He gives, knowing that all we can do is receive. And He sticks it out with us, the in-process of it all, sanctifying us, refreshing our souls and hearts day by day.
He knows what we will be. And so He loves our in-process selves whilst simultaneously renovating our hearts to sing of His love, goodness, and grace.
Our home is far from complete. There is so much work still to be done. But this same unfinished and imperfect house is where I’ve learned about grace anew.
It’s where I grew my sourdough starter, Robespierre, and learned to bake bread, bagels, and cookies.
It’s where my sisters have slept over for girl’s weekends when Lars is away.
It’s where I’ve written the majority of my blog posts, emails, and essays that have been published in magazines.
It’s where Lars and I have prayed countless prayers together, cried together, resolved conflicts together.
It’s where we’ve seen God at work, where we’ve found ladybugs in the nooks and crannies of our lives, where we’ve experienced the goodness of God in the land of the living.
Because even in the messy, half-finished, God stays. He works. He loves us. And He brings transformation, slow, steady, and sure.
So if you, too, feel stuck in the in-betweenness of it all, know that God is not finished with you yet. He completes what He starts, and that is something we can cling to with great confidence. He’s still at work in you. And He is already doing good through you despite the flaws you so clearly see.
Take heart! Could it be that this painful renovation is God’s loving refinement process? Could it be that He is holding your hand as He gently leads you out of your comfort zone and into the fullness of who He is? Could it be that this messiness is leading you ever closer to your beloved Savior, who spares no expense in drawing you to Himself?
This process is not over yet!
