At the bottom of a hill in wide open green pasture, there’s a woodsy cabin surrounded by tall lush grass and a light, cool breeze. There’s a beautiful cobblestone walkway that leads to a dwelling that warmly welcomes you with a pang of nostalgia and familiar memories of home. The smell of wildflowers and what seems like a home-cooked meal drift out of the house. There’s a creek nearby babbling over the rocks with fresh spring water. Two rocking chairs sit atop the old wooden porch. You realize quickly that one of them is meant for you.
You’re standing at the top of the driveway, and you’ve been walking for what feels like days, maybe even years. Your feet are exhausted from the shame you had to walk through to get here. Looking down at the House, there’s a male figure standing on the porch, smiling in a way you’ve never seen a human smile before. It’s a relieved smile that clearly says, ’I’ve waited my whole life for you to get here.’
You’ve been here before, maybe once, maybe a hundred times. You recognize the man and that inviting smile. In your hands and on your back is a ton of luggage, bulky suitcases, a big ole backpacking backpack, a trash bag full of dirty laundry, a few totes full of useless paperwork, and an empty crumpled plastic bottle of water. You’re exhausted and thirsty, as you breathe a sigh of relief in light of the fresh mountain air, promise of a meal, a place to rest, and living water running down the mountain beside you.
You start dragging your things down the cobblestone, eyes looking down at your footing sheepishly, as the man comes up the driveway to greet you. He takes the bags from you and you stretch your arms out, relieved, not remembering the last time you felt so light. He speaks softly and gently, “Let me help you with all of your stuff.” You make your way down the driveway with your old, but somehow new, friend. You can’t help but feel a little guilty for being here- almost like you shouldn’t be at all. You start to slow down your pace, and slowly turn your back to face the start of the cobblestone path, gauging how far uphill it would be to start to leave again. He looks at you longingly with eyes that communicate, “C’mon, stay with me. It’s been a while. I’ve missed you.”
You hesitantly approach the porch, watching as He places your things down right in front of the front door. You glance at the front door and realize it’s a perfect outline of your body shape, form fitting, like a glove. Made for you. You realize pretty quickly that the entry in is for you, JUST you, empty handed. He gives you a moment to process as He chuckles and whispers, “You won’t be needing these things anymore. I have everything you’ll need inside. Trust me.”
Suddenly, I remember this part of the story clearly. He’s said it before- the offer still stands. But what about my things? There’s no way He’ll know how to handle my guilt, shame, past mistakes, regrets, character flaws, heartbreaks, and disappointments. Plus, there’s some really good stuff in there! How can I trust Him to take care of everything? I’ve got my family, relationships, career, hopes, dreams, gifts, and talents in there somewhere with the other junk, too. What’s He going to do with all those things?
My heart sinks. Is it worth it?
I can’t tell you how many times in my life I have come to the top of the driveway to meet Jesus- or how many times I’ve started down the driveway with Him and decided I was either unworthy or that I preferred the world to Him. I’ve glimpsed His goodness but been so deep under the enemy’s convincing spell, that I’ve left Him again and again in the hillside paradise for the world’s definition of love, fulfillment, success, and satisfaction. I’ve even made it all the way to the porch, but wasn’t willing to leave my baggage with Him to sort through and replace with better things. So I gripped onto the world and its empty promises and unfulfilling satisfactions.
Let me ask you a few questions:
Are you getting lost on your way right now?
Are you starting to approach the driveway?
Are you still debating on the porch?
Are you finally in the House?
Let me tell you something I believe has clicked in me for good, now that I’ve finally made my way into the House.
Life is SO. MUCH. RICHER. in the House of the Lord. Not only am I confidently inside now, but I never want to leave. He is sweeter, bigger, more powerful, more healing, more trustworthy and more loving than we can ever truly fathom. He brings in what should stay, and leaves at the curb the burdens we won’t be needing anymore. Friend, I hope you RUN into the House. Don’t spend your life settling on the porch. Take it from me, it’s worth losing your life for Him to save it.
“The one thing I ask of the Lord — the thing I seek most— is to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, delighting in the Lord’s perfections and meditating in his Temple.”
Psalms 27:4
