When you look at this photograph, what do you see?
Maybe you notice the siding is mismatched, or that the landscaping has been neglected. If you go inside the house you might see that almost everything is in need of updating. I’d wager that each person sees it a little differently, but I doubt anyone sees it the same way I do.
When I picture our house, I envision all of its potential. I see the end result: a house of dreams. I smile at the gorgeous navy blue siding with white trim and a red door, a banistered porch, and snug modern windows. Inside, all the rooms are finished, crisply painted, organized to rival IKEA (but with a more Velveteen-Rabbit-worn-loveliness). The kitchen looks more like Bag End than Better Homes and Gardens. Norah’s bedroom is a wistful castle, with a secret door in the wardrobe, and shelves stuffed with books. Much of the decor is handmade and practical, but every single detail is part of a grand story. Don’t even get me started on the basement rec room, or the orchard, or the flock of sheep.
Now, what if this was an analogy of the temple of the Living God? You and I may have rough edges, peeling paint, less than optimal functionality. I submit that God is remodeling each of us through a method called Life. He does not fret about the leaky faucet or smudged window pane. He has a glorious plan to bring all of our idiosyncrasies to a perfect fruition. He sees a stately manor, a sea-sprayed bungalow, a cloud-wrapped chalet, a comfy cozy cottage, a ruddy log cabin.
Just as we paid a price to make this house into the home of our dreams, Jesus paid to redeem us and make us into a new creation. He no longer sees our dirt or dilapidation; He sees what we will be.
He has made everything beautiful in its time.