Renovations
I wish we had a cameraman following us around to do a Fixer Upper: Burkina Faso edition. We have been looking for a new house that will better accommodate Emily and I plus the visitors and teams that we plan on hosting beginning this year. Since there is no real estate service here, we went by word of mouth, asking people we know if they know of a house to rent. We then followed their recommendations and went house-hopping with criteria that were harder to meet than you might expect: a single house with a wall enclosure, electricity, running water, an indoor kitchen, and a toilet.
My favorite moment was when we were following a man who was leading us to a house he wanted to show us. As we were driving through the neighborhood, I couldn't help but notice a house up ahead. "Whoa! Look at that place!" I told Emily. It was literally painted baby blue and bright pink on the outside, like a giant baby gift, Emily noted. It kind of glowed. "I think that's where we are going," Emily said as the man stopped right in front of the gate. We both started laughing hysterically, and needless to say, we didn't choose that house.
At the end of the search, we went back to the very first house we had seen. We knew that this was the place God provided as the answer to our prayers for a house that would serve as both a place of refuge for us and hospitality for others - Americans and Africans and all alike.
An added bonus was that the house was in the final stages, so we got to have a say in the finishing touches. We changed the position of the kitchen sink, picked paint colors, added fans and outlets where we wanted them, and even moved an entire wall to make the bathroom bigger. (Because why you would make a closet-sized bathroom and put the toilet inside the shower...I'm not sure I'll ever figure that one out.)
The next day, when we went to check on how the work was going, I heard Emily call out, "Wow, you've gotta come see his!" The workers had used all the pieces of broken tiles from the bathroom renovation to create a beautifully mosaic on the back porch. It was a lovely surprise and a beautiful touch.
That's what God does when he moves in. When we give our lives to him, he becomes the owner of the house, and he gets to change things. Add some bricks here, move a wall there. His improvements (also known as the process of sanctification by which we are shaped more and more into his likeness) will make it way better. Just like the Africans think it's a good idea to put the toilet in the shower, we arrange some things in our own lives that we think are good ideas...and they just aren't. So that's when the Lord comes in, takes over, and makes the house beautiful and fitting to live in and to invite others into.
Yet renovations are painful. He has to take a sledge hammer to the concrete walls that create tight spaces and restrain his work space. He has to break up the tiles to get deep into the plumbing. He changes things in us, and it hurts, but then he takes all the shattered pieces of tile and makes it into a mosaic on the back porch. Nothing is wasted.
Its important to remember that God is not a destroyer; he is a renovator. He doesn't come in and tear things up just to tear things up, but to create something new and beautiful in us. The enemy is the destroyer, and sometimes he sneaks into the house to steal, kill, and destroy. But what's amazing is this: even what he destroys, God picks up the broken pieces to create something beautiful.
It's like the devil thinks he has this nasty plan to come in and hurt us, discourage us, and knock us down off our faith, hoping to gain ground so that he can become the master of the house. But then God says, "Watch this," and he takes and transforms the brokenness into something beautiful. He is so good at making beauty out of ashes (Isaiah 61).
There is a time to tear down and a time to build, and they usually come back to back. Trust with me that one day we will look back and see how God has made a beautiful home for himself within us. Trust that what we feel as pain now could really be the art of reconstruction and renovation. The pain we experience suddenly takes on new meaning when we see something more, when we see how God is moving deeper into the house. We discover that what we thought was destroying was actually rebuilding, and it's even better than ever before.
Don't give up until he has finished. Don't give in prematurely. Renovation burns like a purifying fire, but when the refining process is complete, we will come forth as shining silver. So cling to him as he holds onto you. The refiner never takes his eyes off the silver. Not until he can see his reflection does he know it is finished.
My favorite moment was when we were following a man who was leading us to a house he wanted to show us. As we were driving through the neighborhood, I couldn't help but notice a house up ahead. "Whoa! Look at that place!" I told Emily. It was literally painted baby blue and bright pink on the outside, like a giant baby gift, Emily noted. It kind of glowed. "I think that's where we are going," Emily said as the man stopped right in front of the gate. We both started laughing hysterically, and needless to say, we didn't choose that house.
At the end of the search, we went back to the very first house we had seen. We knew that this was the place God provided as the answer to our prayers for a house that would serve as both a place of refuge for us and hospitality for others - Americans and Africans and all alike.
An added bonus was that the house was in the final stages, so we got to have a say in the finishing touches. We changed the position of the kitchen sink, picked paint colors, added fans and outlets where we wanted them, and even moved an entire wall to make the bathroom bigger. (Because why you would make a closet-sized bathroom and put the toilet inside the shower...I'm not sure I'll ever figure that one out.)
The next day, when we went to check on how the work was going, I heard Emily call out, "Wow, you've gotta come see his!" The workers had used all the pieces of broken tiles from the bathroom renovation to create a beautifully mosaic on the back porch. It was a lovely surprise and a beautiful touch.
That's what God does when he moves in. When we give our lives to him, he becomes the owner of the house, and he gets to change things. Add some bricks here, move a wall there. His improvements (also known as the process of sanctification by which we are shaped more and more into his likeness) will make it way better. Just like the Africans think it's a good idea to put the toilet in the shower, we arrange some things in our own lives that we think are good ideas...and they just aren't. So that's when the Lord comes in, takes over, and makes the house beautiful and fitting to live in and to invite others into.
Yet renovations are painful. He has to take a sledge hammer to the concrete walls that create tight spaces and restrain his work space. He has to break up the tiles to get deep into the plumbing. He changes things in us, and it hurts, but then he takes all the shattered pieces of tile and makes it into a mosaic on the back porch. Nothing is wasted.
Its important to remember that God is not a destroyer; he is a renovator. He doesn't come in and tear things up just to tear things up, but to create something new and beautiful in us. The enemy is the destroyer, and sometimes he sneaks into the house to steal, kill, and destroy. But what's amazing is this: even what he destroys, God picks up the broken pieces to create something beautiful.
It's like the devil thinks he has this nasty plan to come in and hurt us, discourage us, and knock us down off our faith, hoping to gain ground so that he can become the master of the house. But then God says, "Watch this," and he takes and transforms the brokenness into something beautiful. He is so good at making beauty out of ashes (Isaiah 61).
There is a time to tear down and a time to build, and they usually come back to back. Trust with me that one day we will look back and see how God has made a beautiful home for himself within us. Trust that what we feel as pain now could really be the art of reconstruction and renovation. The pain we experience suddenly takes on new meaning when we see something more, when we see how God is moving deeper into the house. We discover that what we thought was destroying was actually rebuilding, and it's even better than ever before.
Don't give up until he has finished. Don't give in prematurely. Renovation burns like a purifying fire, but when the refining process is complete, we will come forth as shining silver. So cling to him as he holds onto you. The refiner never takes his eyes off the silver. Not until he can see his reflection does he know it is finished.
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