The brazen house

In my previous post, I talked about 2017. In this post, I'd like to talk about 2018. Actually, there are several different ideas floating around in my head right now, and I hope they come together OK.

"Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman stays awake in vain." (Psalm 127:1)

I work for an insurance services company, and I look at pictures of houses all day. Since I don't have a construction background, I've been learning a lot -- from the ground up. (Ha! Couldn't resist making a pun.) One thing I've learned is that apparently not everybody cares about making a good impression on a home inspector.

Some of the homes that I get to see pictures of are very nice. Most of them are plain and simple, with nothing too out of the ordinary to report. Every once in a while, I'll see a huge mansion-like place and wonder what kind of high-paying jobs the owners have. And, unfortunately more often than not, I'll see a neglected old shack-like place.

Maybe at first glance, just from the front of the house, you'll see a nice-looking home. But if you walk around to the back yard, you'll see junk strewn everywhere, and it won't even seem like you're at the same house.

Or maybe you'll see an immaculate-looking home, but for some reason there will be one or two shrubs that are overgrown and unruly. Or maybe everything about the house will be perfect, except for the minor detail that whoever designed the house forgot to install the gutters or a handrail or a porch. Or an entire wall has grown mold or mildew, and no one has fixed it yet. Or maybe a storm ripped off a huge piece of siding, and the owner is taking their sweet time in replacing it.

But what still shocks me a little bit is the homes that are so covered in trash and overgrown shrubbery that you can barely tell what kind of house it is. And maybe there are also some broken windows or huge pieces of dry rot. Maybe there's also an old car that doesn't run anymore, and it's just sitting in the back yard, probably next to a couple of old appliances or maybe a broken commode. Usually with that type of scene, I'm really glad I'm only looking at pictures and not actually smelling the house.

So, every day at my cubicle is like an intriguing mini-study in human nature. It kinda makes you wonder... Why would you meticulously manicure your front yard but treat your back yard like a giant trash can? Why would you take the time to design a perfectly good house but not install some important items -- like an air conditioner or a driveway? And why the heck would you pour so much money into your house only to neglect it? If you know that your foundation is crumbling, why wouldn't you drop everything to fix it so that everything around you won't just collapse into the ground? It kinda makes you wonder what kind of emotional rock some of the homeowners are living under.

I've probably just lived a sheltered life, but when I first started working at my job, I was amazed at how many different kinds of building materials can be used to create a house. There's brick, wood, stucco, metal, and a zillion different ways to combine them, paint them, arrange them, and permanently set them into the ground. Maybe if you drive down a certain neighborhood, you'll see a street lined with houses that all look the same; but if you look closely enough, you'll notice that they aren't all exactly the same, and they certainly don't all have the exact foliage or upkeep. Behind those four walls (or twelve walls) there are hopes, dreams, histories, and possibilities.

In case you haven't figured it out, what I'm trying to say is that houses remind me of people.

"And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it." (Jesus talking to Peter in Matthew 16:18)

As I've mentioned on probably multiple occasions, Jesus was a Carpenter (actually, in a sense, He still is One), so the Bible has multiple references to "houses" and "building" things. Jesus knew how to build things when He had a Carpenter job, and He still knows how to build things spiritually.

Metaphorically speaking, I often take a step back and examine my "house," and I wonder what the heck is going on. I hope I haven't permanently damaged anything, I hope the foundation is strong enough to withstand the storms, and I hope I've been maintaining the grounds in the way that the Builder has been wanting me to. And, lately, I've been wondering what the heck has been going on with all these crazy renovations. Should I move? Should I check in to a hotel for a while? And the Builder will say, "I know what I'm doing." So, I'll stay put, and I'll trust Him.

"I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit." (Jesus talking in John 15:1-2)

The main word that I keep hearing for my life for 2018 is "brazen." When I first started thinking about this concept, I got really worried that I would get in a lot of trouble in 2018, because one definition of the word "brazen" is insolent, rude, or harsh. (And you know how I can be.) But God has been encouraging me that the word "brazen" will mean so much more than that. For instance, if you're going to pursue creative endeavors, you need to be pretty darn brazen. Artistically, you need to push envelopes, defy boundaries, and really put yourself out there if you're going to create something that's really good. Maybe 2018 will be like a personal renaissance for me (like 1999 was, when I wrote a ton of songs). Maybe God will be brazen for me -- maybe He'll fight for me in ways that I haven't let Him fight for me before. Maybe He'll defend me in ways that I've never gotten to see Him defend me before.

I've also heard that 2018 will be the year of the "suddenly." And, in the same way that 2017 was a year of pruning, 2018 will be a year of shaping.

I would like to offer a disclaimer on what I'm about to say. God knows me. He has a relationship with me. So, He knows how to talk to me. The way that He talks to me may not necessarily work with somebody else. And why should it? I'm me, and you're you. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. So, with that said...

As God was talking to me at random one day (as is one of His many customs), He said, "Next year is going to be f----ing awesome." I've censored it here, but He didn't censor Himself when He spoke. Of course, this alarmed me, because since when does God cuss? So, when I asked Him to confirm that it was really Him speaking, He said, "Did you hear the brazenness in My voice?"

Why, yes, I did. That makes perfect sense. And I totally look forward to having a f----ing awesome year!

 

Changing the subject, I would like to say that MeepMeep is quite different than my previous cats. She's a very good cat, but different nevertheless. In retrospect, I think maybe Macho and Choochie (my tiger and my puma) were kind of wussy in comparison to MeepMeep (my panda bear). Macho and Choochie would vomit every once in a while (either hairballs or undigested food), but I haven't seen MeepMeep vomit at all in the two months that I've known her. (Maybe she passes her hairballs in the litterbox?) Well, it sure is nice to not have to spend so much time cleaning the carpet.

Maybe one thing that made Macho and Choochie so soft and relatively wussy is that they were adopted when they were kittens. They were fully domesticated pretty much all their lives, minus their first few weeks of life. My sweet little babies.

MeepMeep, however, didn't begin her domestication process until she was maybe a couple years old, and she didn't move in with me until she was about three. She's been a feral cat for most of her life, so she has some street smarts. She's alert, she has quick reflexes, she moves at lightning speed, and yet when she communicates with humans, it's usually with a high-pitched, quiet "meep." These are some very strong survival skills that I think helped keep her alive before she was domesticated.

However, a side effect of all these cool skills is that she's still pretty wild. Several paragraphs up, I shared a photo of what I found one morning when I was trying to make my lunch. I noticed that my loaf of bread was shredded in a few places. Like a chew toy. My gosh. I didn't know cats DID that type of thing. So, I store my bread inside my pantry now.

MeepMeep is also wild in the way that she plays and interacts with me. Her nails have scratched me multiple times, so I've been plotting a way to subtly ambush her to trim her nails. And she playfully gnaws on my arm from time to time. I think maybe she's still learning that Mama doesn't have fur like she does and that she can accidentally hurt me. Lately, she's also begun biting my leg and knee. (I wouldn't get arrested for gently pinching her in self-defense, would I?) I've shared a video here of her biting my leg one evening. Ha! Literally an ankle-biter.

Here's the part where you might get offended. (Did you hear the brazenness in my sudden disclaimer?) I've felt like God has shown me that Macho and Choochie taught me how to love God and let Him love me (e.g., pretty much everything I've blogged about in the past eight years or so). But I've felt like He's shown me that MeepMeep will teach me how to love people.

I love MeepMeep -- my adorable little panda bear cat -- but when she bites me, it hurts. Sometimes I yell in pain. She wants to play, or maybe she just wants attention, but she doesn't understand that her survival skills have the power to do some damage. If she leaves a scar, that damage could be permanent.

What I've been learning to do is hone my own survival skills to match hers. Most of the time, I hide my pain so that I won't be a whiny little helpless human, but sometimes I fight back (in ways that won't get me arrested). I've growled at her a time or two, and when her ears got wind of the sound I made, she backed off. And yes, I've gently pinched her a time or two.

But most of the time, I either scurry out of her sharp-clawed grasp or I scoop her up into my arms and love on her. (The latter kind of freaks her out a little.)

So, if God is training me on how to be a pastor someday, I'm learning how to deal with people. Sometimes God's people don't know their own strength. In their quest for attention, they bare their fangs and cause some pain, and they often couldn't care less about the damage they're doing. (Of course, when I say "God's people," I mean me, too. I can totally be a jerk.)

But the truth is, I wouldn't trade MeepMeep for anything. I want her exactly the way she is. Years from now, when she's older and slower, I'm going to miss when she was younger and stronger. I'm choking and tearing up just thinking about it. She has some wildness, but I believe that wildness can be tamed.

I think I'm living proof of that.

The other day, my boss sat me down and told me that I'm doing a good job. She asked me if I had any questions about the job, which of course I did, and she clarified some things for me. After our conversation -- at my job where I look at buildings all day, and probably when 2nd Chapter of Acts' song "Mansion Builder" was playing on my iPhone -- I felt like I heard God ask me, "Would you like to help Me build My church?"

Yes, absolutely. I would love to. I would be so honored to. Whatever You want, here I am.

I know God's house is full of wild, crazy people who sometimes pick on their overseers for sport or bite the hands that feed them. But wildness can be tamed, and it's really something to get to see it happen over time. I know there are parts of God's house that are so fragile and sensitive that if you brush against them the wrong way, you'll make a mess and you'll have to clean it up. But being a part of restoring a treasure can be such a rewarding process that you'll remember for the rest of your life. I know there are parts of God's house that have been neglected and are now rotten and dilapidated, so He's had to step in and do some major repair work. But if He'd like some help during the renovation process, I have a pair of slightly scarred hands that are eager and ready to work.

Just as long as I get to be with Him. That's really all I want.

F----ing awesome!