I grew up in the church. From a young age, I went to church every Sunday (even on vacation), attended a Christian private-school, youth groups, and small groups and any kind of group that was even remotely related to God. I went to a Christian University, served as both a Deacon and an Elder in church, served in youth ministry, men’s ministry, and nominating committees. I’ve traveled to third world countries to serve the underserved. I am not bragging, I am pointing out that I have lived a life of church.

So how did I end up here? How did I end up like Job, sitting on the ground heaped with ashes?

There is destruction all around, some of which I did myself (some of it was done to me (I am still trying to figure out who to thank)). There are somewhat organized piles of building materials at my feet. Sheetrock, lumber, and bricks are scattered in piles throughout the lot that used to be my front yard.

The house is not completely dismantled. Some of it was worth keeping. A good portion of the foundation is usable, although I had to break some parts off and add to other parts. I kept the front door. There is a stray wall still standing ominously in the smoke. Smoke because I had to burn some of my building material. Some of the rest can be reused, although maybe not in the same way it was used before.  

New materials were delivered today, along with what I assume are instructions to put this mess back together. I cannot tell because they are written in a type of hieroglyphic that is not comprehensible. I feel like I should understand, but I can’t quite get it to make sense.

You see, if God is to live here, I needed to change a few things.

Not for him; He is perfectly happy to sleep on the ground, as long as I am nearby. He doesn’t need me to do anything, he just wants to live with me.

I know, I know… He’s always lived with me. But I was so busy trying to do church, I forgot to invite him; to recognize he was even there.

No… If God is to live here, I need to make room for Him. For this house is both my heart and my religion.

I have had to deconstruct because it was starting to fall apart. Like a house that you keep on adding to throughout the years, it eventually becomes so disfigured and unwieldly; it could no longer stand under its own weight. I had to dismantle it because it was nothing like it was supposed to be− Just a cheap replica of what it was meant to be.

So you see, I am on an unexpected journey to find faith. I thought I already had it, but it was only a mirror. I lived in church for nearly half a century, and never knew God. He is much bigger and better than I thought.

Tearing down the original idol was easy. Putting it all back together is much more difficult. I have some hints of where some things go, but lots of questions and very few answers. I know way more than I ever did, although it is now much messier. Please don’t mind the mess, I am remodeling….