Sometimes, you change your life. Sometimes it changes you. And right now, I am somewhere in between. I am holding on tight, white-knuckled, waiting for the pendulum to stop, waiting for the dust to settle. I am going to be cryptic on purpose, but trust me when I say this is an interesting time for me. To put it simply, circumstances have shifted: a little here and there. I am missing the structure of my school days: missing a time of knowing where to go and when.
And those are just the changes you can see.
While trying to process how the last few weeks, days, and hours have felt, I stumbled across a passage by C.S. Lewis. [Okay. Maybe I went looking for it to assuage some of my jitters. Either way, it works.]
In Mere Christianity, he writes:
“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”
Although a cursory reading of this can be quite unsettling, it comforts me now more than ever. Because I know what’s going on. I am not just hurting for no reason. The troubles are not coming from nowhere. It is not senseless chaos. I am being rebuilt, from the inside. By someone with perfect standards. And-unlike me-He doesn’t leave his projects unfinished.
The tough part is this: any other thing that’s being rebuilt is closed. The doors are locked. It’s not safe to be anywhere near it. In our case, however, we must stay open. We are required to continue letting others in. We may be the recipient of constant improvements, but we are also obligated to stay open to serve our purposes.
Come on in, if you want. I’m happy to make you a cup of tea. It is always so good to see you. Just pardon the mess, excuse the noise, tread lightly. Know you are always welcome. Here’s hoping that He, along with all of you, make yourselves at home.