Construction Chronicles Part 28

Last weekend was fabulous. My friends came as they always do to celebrate the eve of the new year in my home. My sister and her husband, and a beloved couple stayed the night. The next day friends filtered in to eat leftovers, talk, and play board games while some of us watched movies or slipped off into sweet sleep.

My construction project is not done, but for the last four nights I have slept in my bedroom in my own bed for the first time in fourteen months. I have painted walls in my bedroom, the hallway, and the foyer. I have carpet in all my bedrooms. More is coming for the stairs. It's not done, but it's finished.

It doesn't take an eagle eye to see that I have a lot left to do. My bedroom window panes are missing. My sofa needs reupholstering. My pictures are not on the walls. My woodwork is not shellacked. But I live in a whole house that accommodates me and entertains others.
Isn't this like the Church of Jesus? A heap of twigs and twine becoming a dwelling for some and providing shelter for others along their way? We want to be a perfect house; we want to have all the answers, provide the perfect comfort, prescribe the perfect remedy, be the perfect us. But if we aren't careful we miss the reality that in spite of our imperfections we embody the irony of our Broken God.

I've learned something in the last three years as I've gratefully embraced my broken home and worked to restore it. I'm not even sure of all of it. But through this process I am affirmed in the knowledge that the love of God is eternal, that His mercies are everlasting, that His redemption is His joy, and that the Carpenter I worship never stops restoring His bride.

Just like an old house.