RESTORATION: THE THREE HOUSES

(9/28/07)
(In My Backyard)

I find that there are times when I am talking and counseling with someone that certain analogies and symbolic stories will just arise spontaneously… word portraits that perfectly convey whatever idea I am trying to communicate at the time. I truly believe that these come from God because of their spontaneity and their appropriateness to each particular situation. When I was visiting a friend in jail the other day, one of these word portraits emerged during our conversation. The imagery was so striking and compelling, I wanted to revisit it and journal about it.

Without divulging anything confidential about my friend, let me just say that he made a series of mistakes some months ago that cost him his job, his family, and his freedom. He is now left with nothing – no material goods, no income, no autonomy, and only a handful of relatives and friends that even maintain contact with him. (Reminds me of the early days of my “dark period” at the end of the 1990’s… except for the jail sentence part.) However, even though my friend’s situation may seem dire, God is doing some incredible things in his heart and soul during this period of imprisonment. He now has clarity and wisdom that is sometimes astounding to me. As I was describing to my friend God’s process of divine transformation at work in his life, this word portrait emerged:
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In a county seat town not too far from here, there is a street that emerges from downtown and enters a ten-block stretch that is lined with grand old Victorian-era houses. As I look down the street, I imagine a faded old postcard with a colorized picture of this street in its heyday – proud new homes of the well-to-do featuring small, well-groomed oaks, white picket fences, and azaleas in full bloom, providing color, life and beauty to a street bustling with horse-drawn carriages, ladies decked out in full Victorian attire, and the occasional passing trolley car. But now, nearly one hundred years later, it is the “Internet-era”, and the scene is quite different. Yes, most of the houses are still standing guard over the street, but now the oak trees are gargantuan, with massive limbs arching over the street and forming a cool late-summer canopy. The street is still bustling, but now with minivans, bicyclers, iPod-clad joggers, and the occasional passing city bus. On the right side of the street stand three houses, each with its own story to tell.

The first house must have been a showplace back in its day, with its prominent two-story bay window, its wide front porch, and its round cupola with a high-pitched spire of a roof crowned with a weather vane. But its day has long since passed. The house has fallen into an extreme state of disrepair. The clapboard siding has lost any sense of paint color whatsoever, and has gradually taken on a depressing, dark gray hue. The boards making up the floor of the porch are bowed, uneven, and rotten, daring only the most adventurous to risk life and limb by setting foot on them. Most of the shingles are missing from the cupola’s once-grand roof, the weather vane badly rusted and peeling. And the bay windows? While a few of the panes are still intact, most are either cracked, shattered, or missing altogether… some have been hastily covered with boards, while others have been left gaping open. The shrubs that once were undoubtedly well-trimmed and brimming with life and color are now wildly-overgrown drab masses of gangly limbs, twisted vines, and last year’s fallen leaves. Children (and even some adults) tense their muscles and quicken their pace when walking by the house, because there are even rumors that it is “haunted” (it certainly looks the part).

The second house is a mess, as well. The columns that once supported the roof of the massive L-shaped porch, which anchors the front and right side of the house, are all missing – unceremoniously replaced by bowed, unattractive 2X4 planks that strain under the weight of their burden. Some of the siding from this house has been removed altogether, uncovering the inner framing beneath, like bone and sinew exposed by a gaping wound. Unlike its unfortunate neighbor, this house has no windows at all – even the frames are missing – leaving behind stark rectangular holes staring blankly toward the street. The shingles from its roof are completely missing, as well; only ancient faded gray tarpaper remains to help protect it from the elements. But there are telltale signs present that set this house apart from the one before it. A construction company’s sign has been posted near the sidewalk. A large, rectangular waste container has been parked in the yard. Two contractor’s trucks are parked in the driveway, and the sounds of circular saws and hammers can be heard through the window openings. This house has a new owner, and the restoration process has begun.

The third house is once again a beautiful Victorian-era masterpiece, fully restored to its former glory, but with updates and improvements that make it even better than when it was brand new. With its pastel paint, its gleaming white trim, its manicured green lawn, and its flowers in full bloom, it is a marvelous symphony of colors and textures. A closer inspection of the house reveals the tremendous attention to detail the new owner has employed in the restoration process – intricate white woodworking around the windows and under each gable, period-accurate roof shingles and brass weather vane, and beautifully-restored and inviting double front doors. This house is now attractive to all that encounter it, and is immeasurably valuable to its owner and to the community.
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I then told my friend, “You were once the first house. You are now the second house. God is in the process of making you into the third house.” (I would also say that I am still in the “second house” stage, although a little farther along in the restoration process than I once was.)

Like those grand old houses, we are created in beauty, with a purpose and an identity, a masterpiece planned and designed by the Architect (God). We are proud, shiny, and new – nurtured and loved and contented. The Builder (also God) hands over to us the keys to our "house". As the years drag on, however, we can tend to lose our way. We become like “neglectful owners” of our houses. Flaws, damage, and decay are allowed to linger on unchecked and unattended-to; or worse, they are buried under yet another coat of paint or layer of veneer, while the problem remains, quietly becoming bigger, more difficult and more costly to address and repair with each passing year of neglect. The years of inattention and lack of care gradually take their toll, until ultimately we find ourselves to be nothing but ghosts of our former selves; sad, drab shells that barely resemble what the architect originally designed. We become vacant, derelict houses with no visible signs of life outside or inside.

However, when we are bought back by our new “Owner” (also God), things begin to change. Our new Owner sees beyond the rotten wood and peeling paint, and sees the true worth in us – untapped potential, strength and beauty. He sees the house that we can be. And then the restoration process begins. Restoration is always accomplished in two phases: deconstruction and rebuilding.

I know that a house is an inanimate object, unable to feel pain – but that being said, the deconstruction phase of restoration must certainly be a “painful” one for a house. Layer after layer is pried away, removed, and discarded. Long-hidden flaws and decay are exposed and dealt with. Any surfaces that are allowed to remain are stripped down to their barest essence. The house is reduced down to its very core – foundation and framing. It is only then that true restoration can begin.

When our new Owner begins His work of restoration in our lives, the same process of deconstruction begins. Granted, the amount of stripping necessary varies according to the amount of decay and damage present. Be assured that our new Owner will do only what is necessary to assure the quality of the final product. His process of deconstruction is neither vindictive nor sadistic. It is a pure expression of love. Our Owner is not a ruthless vandal bent on destruction for His own pleasure, but rather a careful artisan doing what he must to produce something of greater worth and value. If He must strip us of almost everything in order to rebuild us, He will do so – but it is an act of care and love.

This “stripping” process can be as subtle as changes in speech, attitudes, and world-view. It can also be as drastic as it was with my friend (and in some ways, me), with almost everything that constitutes our life being “pried away” violently. In each case, stripping is absolutely necessary, however. Remember, God (our Owner) is not in the “reupholstering” business; He is in the “restoration” business… two totally separate disciplines. He will not allow our flaws, damage, and decay to remain covered over with glibly-patterned cloth or expensive-looking veneer. He cares about us too much to allow that – He sees the hidden true worth inside of us. He wants us to be people of integrity.

It is also encouraging to know that our Owner does not just leave us stripped and vulnerable. When He feels we are ready, He begins the next facet of restoration – rebuilding. This is the part the Owner truly delights in. As Paul says in Ephesians 2:10:

"For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." (NLT)

He is rebuilding us, not just for His pleasure, but for a reason – so we can finally fulfill our mission and purpose; so that we can do what we were designed to do. The house is given new walls, siding, paint, fixtures, and trimwork. Life, beauty, and value are restored, better than ever… better than brand new. Our lives are given new energy, new direction, new attitudes, and new purpose. Life, beauty, and value are restored, better than ever… better than brand new.

Thank You, my Owner, for seeing the hidden worth in me. Thank You for buying me at a great price. Thank You for the restoration process that You have begun in me. Thank You for stripping me down to my bare framework so that You could begin to rebuild me better and stronger than ever before. Thank You for being a loving artisan in my life, bringing order, worth, and beauty.

I was the first house. I am the second house. I am becoming the third house…

THE WAS, THE NOW, AND THE WILL-BE

(7/12/07)
(In My Backyard)

Hi, God! I finished Brennan Manning’s Ruthless Trust today. This book has been a huge blessing to me – both encouraging and intensely challenging. In chapter 10, Manning talks about how God can use broken people (and we are all broken) to fulfill His mission… how His love for us is unconditional and constant, through our most triumphant moments and our darkest days.

"Israel Schwartz was sad because he wasn’t like Moses. One night, an angel appeared to him and said, 'On Judgment Day, Yahweh will not ask you why you were not Moses; he will ask you why you were not his beloved Izzy.'

"From infancy, we are taught to compare ourselves to others in terms of intelligence, talent, charisma, and physical appearance. Infants appear in television commercials, beauty pageants are held for six-year-olds, IQ tests are administered in third grade, and Little League mania rules many a home. SAT scores, class rankings, and success in the stock market – along with competitions and rivalries in every arena of life – compel us to measure our worth, for better or worse, on a scale that does not exist in the mind of God. The slightest crack is unacceptable, inducing a deepening sense of inferiority." (1)

I confess to You, God, that much of my perception of where I stand with You is measured by my rating of my performance. I worry that I am not doing as much as I should for You – that I am not working as hard as I should for You. I also confess that much of my perception of where I stand with You is measured by my comparison of myself with others. I worry that I’m not reading as much as Christian X, that I’m not praying as much as Christian Y, and that I’m not serving or giving as much as Christian Z.

God, help me to break free from these chains I have clamped around my own ankles, and to run and dance freely for You, as “Your own beloved Mitch”. Help me to firmly grasp the concept that it pleases You when I do what You built me to do, and live a life that syncs up with the way You designed me. I don’t need to compare myself to others to measure my performance. In fact, the only standard for measurement that I have to evaluate myself is this question: “Am I using the gifts, abilities, characteristics, and personality traits You gave me to help others and to tell them about You?”

In a way, I believe the “game of life” is more a golf game than a tennis match. In tennis, you are locked in a one-on-one struggle against an opponent – talent vs. talent, stamina vs. stamina, strategy vs. strategy. You are competing against your opponent, sizing up your abilities against theirs… and if you come up short, you lose. In golf however, while you do compete against others in matches sometimes, there is another level of competition going on, as well (even when you are playing alone!). I am grateful that my dad taught me how to play golf at an early age – and I can still remember him saying that in golf, you are only competing against yourself. Why? Because golf is a game of self-evaluation, self-adjustment, and self-control.

“Can I learn from previous mistakes on the putting green and shave off a stroke (or two) by making better judgment calls when lining up my putts?”

“Can I learn my own tendencies and acknowledge the flaws in my swing, and then adjust to make them work to my advantage, instead of letting them destroy my game?”

“Can I graciously and eagerly accept and apply constructive suggestions from trusted friends and knowledgeable professionals who identify certain areas of my game where some adjustments and discipline would improve my score?”

The game of golf constantly forces us into self-evaluation and self-adjustment; a process that must occur if we hope to succeed, rather than repeat the same dismal mistakes over and over. And, as it is in the game of life, we will enjoy the round of golf a little more if we learn to laugh at ourselves, find pleasure in our little victories, and learn from our fellow golfers rather than compare ourselves to them.

God, I want to “be all I can be” (as the U.S. Army slogan used to say) – all that You designed me to be. I don’t need to worry about what gifts you did or didn’t give to the person next to me – they are just as responsible and accountable to You for their gifts as I am for mine. You designed and created me (I am Your “handicraft”… and You are pleased with me.

Deep inside me, as I write these words, I feel my spirit heave a deep sigh of relief! You love me for who I am… what I am… where I am… right now. God, help me to live in the “now”, not in the “was” or in the “will-be”.

All we can do about the “was” is learn from it and grow because of it. After all, You even take our past mistakes and make good things happen because of them. I am encourages by what Manning says about the sins of our past. He first quotes St. Augustine, and then adds another insight:

“'All things work together for the good of those who love God, even our sins.' A key promise made by alcoholics recovering with the help of A.A. reads 'No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.'” (2)

Thank You, God, for a miracle no less spectacular than water to wine – taking the dung from the worst moments of my past and using it to fertilize and enrich the flowers of my present and future spiritual experience. The depth of Your mercy and Your love amazes me.

All we can do about the “will-be” is entrust it to You. (I started to write here that we could “prepare for it” – but we really can’t, can we? We can guess, postulate, theorize, and project… but we can’t predict, so we can’t really adequately prepare.) We must simply trust that the faithful God of our “was” and the active God of our “now” will be the dependable God of our “will-be”, as well. I do not know what paths I will have to walk in the future, O God, but I do know I will not walk them alone. I know You will be there as much as You are here right now… and that helps me walk with confidence… with faith and hope. And as Manning says, “faith + hope = TRUST”.

I will trust You God in the “now”, no matter what. I will trust Your wisdom, Your timing, and Your process for me. You have been amazing, You are amazing, and You will be amazing. You are God, and I praise You now… right now.

ENDNOTES:

1. Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God (New York: HarperCollins, 2002 [2000]), 141-142.
2. Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God, 146.

INFINITY AND INTIMACY

(7/01/07)
(In My Backyard)

Hi God. I am sitting here in the backyard as the sun is beginning to sink behind the rooftops of my neighborhood. Buster is diligently sniffing around the yard in search of some small animal he can terrorize in some way. It’s good to spend some time with You as this day winds down.

I’ve been thinking about an idea that Brennan Manning discusses in his book, Ruthless Trust. At the end of my last journal entry, I was marveling at Your perfect balance of the infinite and the intimate. When I read chapter 6 of Manning’s book, I see that he has entitled it “Infinite and Intimate”. (How timely… God, You do stuff like that all the time.) In this chapter, he shows that the perfect example of this concept is found in Your incarnation here on earth – Your son, Jesus Christ. Manning ends the chapter with a caveat advising us to broaden our concepts of God and Christ:

"The towering importance of the above caveat – that transcendence must be conjoined with immanence, that divinity must be coupled with humanity, that heaven must be balanced with earth, and that God’s distance must be complimented by his nearness – is essential if we are to grasp the true meaning of the glory of Jesus." (1)

After reading this, I came to the realization that Jesus Christ is the very embodiment of the whole concept of Your infinity and intimacy (about which I have been journaling a lot recently).

Christ demonstrated His infinity with His miracles – changing water to wine, healing paralytics and lepers, quieting the storm, and ultimately overcoming death itself. He also demonstrated His infinity with His wisdom – His teachings to the multitudes, His brilliant responses to the snide questions from the Pharisees, His words of comfort and words of challenge to those who sought out His counsel.

Christ demonstrated His intimacy through His compassion – His forgiveness toward the adultress, His acts of healing to countless hurting ones, His acts of acceptance to Zaccheus, Mary Magdalene, and many others with “questionable occupations”. Christ also demonstrated His intimacy through His conversations – insightful and frank one-on-ones with Pharisees and prostitutes, rulers and lepers, women and children, priests and tax collectors.

Several chapters later, Manning adds these words from Christ himself, recorded in the gospel of John:

9b Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father!

Then Manning makes this observation:

"Jesus is the human face of God with all the same attitudes, attributes, and characteristics of his Abba… In order to have any understanding of Abba – not of his essence, which remains unknowable, but of his character – we must look to Jesus." (2)

Through tracing the life and ministry of Christ, we see a personification of Your nature, God… of Your character… of Your heart. Since He was God in the flesh, walking among us, He is the ultimate example of Your infinity and intimacy – God of the Universe stooping down to brush away the tears of the broken, to hold the hand of the child, to embrace the lonely and the forgotten. Christ is a beautiful portrait of who You are, O God.

Thank You for Your power and Your gentleness… for Your omniscience and Your compassion… for Your holiness and Your grace… for Your infinity and Your intimacy.

ENDNOTES:

1. Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God (New York: HarperCollins, 2002 [2000]), 85.
2. Manning, Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God, 109.