II Corinthians 5:7
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation;
the old has gone, the new has come!”
I love the home makeover shows on HGTV. I mean really, really love them. They inspire me…to dream up DIY projects for my house that I will never complete because I fear I lack the expertise, equipment, and audacity to tackle the job successfully. So, I keep watching and I keep dreaming and I keep the phone number of a good contractor handy in case I ever decide to act and need to be saved from my lack of expertise and equipment and audacity.
I’m intrigued by the 15-minutes-of-fame homeowners on these shows. Some of them have the skills and vision for their ventures, and HGTV is their platform to inspire the rest of us. Most of the time, however, the hapless, hopeless, helpless homeowners have no idea what to do and how to do it.
Enter the designer. Suddenly [insert heavenly soundtrack here], CHANGE becomes achievable…and inevitable. Of course, the owners still have no idea what the end result will be because of their limited experience with the designer, the process, the materials.
So, they wait…and wait…and commentate. On their ideas, on their vision, on their desire to change…just enough but not too much. They must stay in their comfort zone. Haven’t they ever watched this channel? They are in for a transformation!
Recently, an episode followed a few different homeowners who bought new homes and the changes they made when taking up residence. The former owners were then invited to see the houses after the fact. Before the moves took place, the original proprietors extolled the virtues of the supposedly finished canvases they were leaving behind. They supposed that no change could be made because they had already achieved perfection in the design. Their house was move-in ready!
Of course, the new owners saw no such thing. The new house had the wrong “personality” for their tastes—so kitchens had be gutted, carpets pulled up, wallpaper steamed, and gardens torn out. And on and on it went until the old and tacky was replaced with the new and trendy.
You can imagine how the former owners reacted when they saw the changes. Yep. Shock. Complete. Total. Shock. Of course the renovations were mostly amazing, beautiful, fresh visions for passé spaces. The new owners were to be commended. But were they? Hmmm…sometimes… for a little improvement here or there…but…mostly…not.
Wails rose up from those bereaved of their beloved cabinets and carpets installed sometime during FDR’s administration (his first term). My especial favorite: “What did they do with the ceramic rooster collection I left for them in the kitchen? They matched the wallpaper. Hey, what happened to the wallpaper?” (Clearly, one person’s rooster collection is another person’s Goodwill donation.)
I know that you know where I’m going with this:
How often do I situate my life just so and never make a change to my habits, my heart? The new Owner has arrived, and I confidently inform Him that He’ll love the sofa in the living room that dates back to 1986 and the curtains in the kitchen that match the wallpaper that matches the tablecloth that matches the rooster collection I hate but am too cheap to part with.
Meanwhile, I hope to distract Him from looking too closely at the closets and the basement where I hide my “stuff” while I temporarily cover up the monuments to me that I keep on my mantle for all to see when I think He's not around.
He looks around taking in the view. Pauses. Sighs. Rolls up His sleeves and looks at me. Smiles.
But I settle in for the challenge.
“I don’t like change,” I tell Him.
And He replies, “I can see that.”
“You can’t make any improvements on this place. It’s done. I’m done. See?” I declare as I swing my arms around to direct His view.
“Nice try, kid,” as He walks over to the next room and looks inside. “I have some ideas for this place that will improve its value, its character. You’ll be surprised, and you won’t like some of my plans at first, but it’ll be worth it. Now, please let Me get to work.”
And off He goes ripping out the dated, dowdy, tacky, worn pieces of heart and mind. The Dumpster outside begins to fill up with stuff. Junk. Clutter.
I keep trying to take it out and put it back—I am a creature of habit, a packrat, after all. But He finds it again and out it goes.
And just when I think He’s done, He mentions that this reno
A lifetime, He says.
He knows that I have an affinity for what He knows is second-rate furniture and gaudy fixtures. Of course, from my myopic perspective, the items I choose aren’t tawdry, but from His perspective….
Well, let’s just say that He special orders me engraved silver photo frames from Tiffany’s while I tend to pick up chrome-plated plastic ones at Target. Big difference in quality and value. His choices may cost dearly and cause me to wait impatiently until they arrive. Mine don’t, and they clearly aren’t better. His are perfect for me and worth the sacrifice. Mine are a poor substitute and chosen out of a lack of vision and experience (otherwise known as wisdom).
Sometimes, God is kinda like the Mike Holmes of character renovation. Mike gets called in when a contractor has done a bang-up job…of leaving trusting customers in the lurch. Poor workmanship, faulty techniques, laziness, lack of proper permitting, and the like.
Enter Mike.
He saves the day by ripping out all of that contractor’s terrifyingly terrible—and often life-threatening—handiwork. Then, he and his crew do the job again—and they do it over and above code. Mike’s a hero. Everyone loves him, because he cares enough to get his hands dirty in order to whip properties into shape and keep the public safe from the marauding charlatans who apparently prey quite often on those living in Toronto
Enter God.
He gets His hands a bit dirty, too—what with opening up the closets we want to keep closed and ripping out drywall that conceals layers of problems beneath. It’s a dirty job—we’re a messy people, and we often turn to other messy people to solve our dilemmas. We like our personal brands of selfishness, as long as it’s hidden and not “too bad.” And we don’t want anyone to really see or deal with what we are hiding beneath putty and plaster and crown moldings.
But God knows it’s dangerous to let us keep on that way, so He shows up with a demo crew of one—the Holy Spirit—in tow. Here’s the thing, though—the demo itself is not dangerous. The proper precautions are taken not to destroy anything fragile or beautiful or complete. It’s designed to preserve and protect the rest of the structure. Sledgehammers and jackhammers are reserved only for the most stubborn structural pieces that won’t come loose for replacement any other way.
And it takes time. There is an orderliness to it. Planning is involved or else chaos would ensue. It takes a Master Planner, a Designer to move the project forward effectively and safely. We just can’t do it on our own—our viewpoint and proficiency are limited. We can adapt, but we aren’t experts at everything—we need Someone with more…well, wisdom. Someone who can see the whole picture, envision the future, and decide what to save and what to jettison, what to preserve and what to demo, what to repurpose and what to renovate.
I think the best segment of those HGTV home improvement shows comes at the end—the before and after shots. We see the mayhem that was and the transformation that is. At the beginning of each episode, I’m like most of the homeowners—I know something could be done to improve the space, but I don’t quite see the potential. By the end of 30 minutes—“Caution: Renovation projects in your TV may take longer than they appear”—by the end of 30 minutes, I ask myself, “Why didn’t I think of that?! It’s perfect!” (Or…“That’s horrible, but it’s not my house, so who am I to say?”)
Each time realization sets in that I’ve come to the end of a particular heart renovation project, I get excited about the “reveal,” my first glimpse at the product of all the hard work—and I’m amazed when I compare the before and after photos.
When all is said and done, when He has completed His work, when the old has been thoroughly replaced by the new that has come, I have a feeling that I’ll stand in the middle of my heart and look rapturously about me as I proclaim, “I love what You’ve done with the place!”
