There’s this house.
It’s really big.
But not too big from the outside.
The simple beauty of it is what initially attracted me.
There’s a front yard with freshly cut green grass.
I know all the cracks and crevasses of the sidewalk and the pattern that the grass grows in.
I know all of this because I’ve spent a long time there, longing to go in, but too scared.
The house is much too nice for me to go in. I’m not worthy enough. There is too much dirt, too much filth on me.
But someone stands on the porch. He always asks me to come in but I never accept. He doesn’t know the mess I would track into his home. He wouldn’t want the mess to clean up. There are days I think he genuinely wants me in and I take small nervous steps up the sidewalk but I become too skeptical and turn around.
But he keeps asking me to come in.
After years of going back and forth I finally decided to go in.
The man took my hand from the porch and led me in.
I felt uncomfortable at first.
I could only make it to the first room, the living room.
He told me I could sit down and make myself at home.
I thought that was weird because I had never had a home like this before.
But I decided to trust this man and I sat down on the couch that soon engulfed me in it’s comfort.
I began to let my eyes wander around the room and I spotted all these picture frames with kids in them.
It felt odd that this man had so many kids.
But then from the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a picture.
She was a blonde little girl playing in the wake of the ocean, looking blissfully content.
I jogged my memory realizing it was me as a child.
Confusion spread over me.
How did he have my picture?
Was this my house too?
Had I been standing outside my own home for so many years, unwilling to let the truth of who the man was get inside my stubborn mind?
I caught a glimpse of the man who had been watching patiently to the side start to come over to me.
He tells me to rest.
Rest in the fact that this was my house.
That I belonged here.
That my dirt had fallen off as soon as I entered the house.
That he wanted me to stay here
That I was his daughter and was already fully loved.
That I could stay here if I wanted to.
Once I let his words sink into my heart, I realized that this is what my heart had been longing for all those years outside while I was in the front yard.
That picture is the journey I was on for many years.
But the story doesn’t end there. God continued to show me more.
I’ve been content in the living room for a while.
It’s where I needed to be.
I needed to rest my weary soul and just have time to process the fact that I was worthy enough to be God’s daughter and to live in the house.
That fact has taken root in my heart over the past year.
I feel grounded in that truth.
But as I step into a new season, a new adventure with the one whom my heart longs, I’ve heard him say:
“It’s time to explore the rest of the house, beloved. It’s time for me to take you to the deeper levels of my heart. There are rooms I want to show you. Rooms that your mind can’t even conjure up an image for. Some of the rooms will be difficult to walk in but I need you to know that I will walk with you through them all. Your hand will be firmly in mine and I’m the kind of man who can’t break promises and would never do that to you. So much is waiting for you in this house that I am so excited for you to experience. Are you ready to go?”
And this is where I am. This is where I find myself this week as I get ready to go to Africa for three months and lead a team of incredible young people.
Am I ready to let Jesus take me to deeper places? To explore more of his love? More of his world? More of his grace and freedom?
The answer is yes. I’m ready. It’s won’t be easy, but I’m ready to let him hold my hand and take me deeper into the house to experience more of who he is.
