I am house. A house that has been destroyed and restored more times than I care to count. I have allowed this viscous cycle to continue for years. But God is a good God, who operates strictly out of love and who always has good intentions towards us. How do I know? Because God has been the contractor who has restored my house each and every time I have destroyed it.
Destroyed. How do you destroy a house crafted after the the very giver of life? It is quite simple, you invite people and things into your house that have no business being there. When I visualize this house, I see a grand staircase, priceless pieces of art, a beautifully remodeled kitchen, a large foyer and brand new furniture. Its a stunning house, the type you see featured in magazines. Sometimes, though, I invite situations into my place that aren’t respectful and they cause damage. Between people, things, and myself awful things happen, trauma happens, and my house is slowly ruined. Before I even know what is happening, my freshly painted walls have graffiti on them, my artwork is defaced, my plants have died, and my kitchen is full of clutter. My house is…destroyed. The house that my Father gave me is broken. I am embarrassed, I am guilty, and I am left trying to fight off shame with no luck. It’s important to mention that the people or situations that helped you create this mess don’t normally stick around. So here I am in a big, fit to be abandoned house, alone. So I try to clean it myself. I start with trying to declutter the kitchen counters, but honestly I am just packing things away and storing them into a forgotten back bedroom only to be discovered later on. I try to repaint the walls, but I can only make it through one coat of paint on my own. Which is not helpful, because the graffiti still bleeds through. I don’t even know where to begin on saving the plants or fixing the structure of the staircase. Now I am not just embarrassed and guilty, I am also overwhelmed. Being overwhelmed only breeds panic and with panic comes ultimatums. I have two choices: I can accept the consequences and live in this mess, or I can call the Contractor.
Restorative Mercy 