On Sunday I gave one of my best friends the update on our room that flooded in July. It wasn’t a happy report.
I dubiously listened to her encouragement.
“There’s got to be a message in that somewhere. You’ll find it,” she told me.
I nodded my head, but mentally scheduled my emotional breakdown for the first moment of solitude I could find after church.
After the flood, we were so certain that God meant it to be a blessing. But then nothing we did seemed to work, and the possibility of finishing soon was put off again and again.
The paint, at least, is working.
The walls are called Dove Wing, and the ceiling is Spring Mint.
My heart hopes these colors are prophetic, that the place we sleep will become the place we are at peace, refreshed, and renewed.
I pray and roll the Dove Wing on the wall that was ruined by the storm. Beyond the soft creak of the roller I listen for His voice.
I find it astounding that the God of the universe takes such great interest in our small human hearts. I am lavishly spoiled with a home, a family, people who love me, enough food to sustain me for weeks, and more possessions than the majority of the world can hope to own in one lifetime.
And still, He is willing to give me mercy I do not deserve, salvation I did not earn, and love I have not always faithfully returned.
Even more than that, He cares about the things I care about; like this room that seems as though it will never be finished.
It is not finished, but it is full of His presence today. I wouldn’t trade that for beautiful flooring and the finest linens money can buy.
More than I want a peaceful place, I want the Prince of Peace to make me more like Him. I know that somehow this room is doing that because it is excruciatingly difficult for me to wade through the mess it has brought me.
My dear friend was right; there is a message in this room. Pressing down into my soul with all its truth, staring me in the face with brazen eyes, and washing over my life with its faithfulness is this:
God is never finished with me, and I am only at the beginning of who He is.
