Slow below the surface

Greetings Everyone,

I know this is really late for me. I’ve been out of town and even though I’ve tried to write this about three times, well, the words just haven’t come. We’ll see how this goes.

One of the things that I love about the house that I live in (the bank owns it; I just pay them to live there) are the hardwood floors. They are not modern hardwood or laminate. They do not float. They are strips of maple wood one and a quarter inches wide and three quarters of an inch thick. They are stained a dark orangish brown that some people would call cherry. And they are 70 years old (since the trees were at least 50 years old be fore they were harvested maybe the wood is closer to 120 years old). They are floors that are meant to be used and therefore they are full of stains and nail holes and other various nicks and knocks. There are even a couple of purple stains left by my father when he was helping us settle in almost 10 years ago.

I started thinking about my floors as I was knocking down the ceiling plaster in the back section of the house the last couple of days. If you remember, I said we lost a part of our ceiling when the rains of 2010 came through bringing the flood of 2010. I took that mess to be an opportunity to rip it all out and have spray on insulation put in.

Anyway, in the midst of the deconstruction of my ceiling; I lost my floors. Not literally, but they were covered with several inches of plaster, drywall and insulation. Dust was thick in the air and I had to dig out my hi tech respirator to keep from inhaling 40 year old insulation and plaster.

The damage was done in about 30 minutes and then the clean up began. I sat on the floor with a hammer, a dust pan, and a box of garbage bags breaking up plaster into bite size pieces and filling garbage bags (82 for plaster, 12 extra large for the insulation). Without out the minimal insulation and plaster the back two rooms became a sauna; so, it didn’t take long for me to become soaked with perspiration.

Perhaps it was a heat delirium, I can’t say, but somewhere in the midst of dust and perspiration, I swept some dirt way and got a glimpse of the beauty of the wood. And it hit me that I was looking at my life. Almost from the time I was born these things have come crashing down upon the floor of my life covering that which is underneath. I let it pile up for thirty years before I caught a glimpse of the wood that was there and I have spent the last 20 years taking out the trash, cleaning up the debris that was hiding the floor of my house.

Now the debris covering the floor was the result of water damage, mold, and bad construction choices so it had to come down if the house was going to be all that it was intended to be. But just because it needed to be done doesn’t mean that taking the debris out was easy. Yet, the more trash that goes out the more of the beauty of the floors can be seen. Not only that, but the value of the house goes up, too.

I’ve been thinking lately just how much garbage I have taken out of my heart the last twenty years. It blows me away because as the trash has been removed good things have taken its place. Good things that I didn’t know could live there. Character that I didn’t think could exist inside my heart began to grow. Gifts I didn’t think I had began to blossom forth.

I still don’t know where these things come from. I’m still amazed that they can grow in the barrenness of my heart but they do – in spite of me. I find myself growing more and more grateful with each passing day.

And yet, I also realize that there is a ton more crap left to be thrown out. It will keep getting thrown out for the rest of my life and that’s ok. It’s ok because I know that it is going out at the appropriate time, to reveal the glory of Christ that has gone into the construction of my house in the way and the time that God the father sees fit.

I will admit that I do not always like sitting on the floor picking up debris. It’s dirty nasty work but it has to be done. For so long I just wanted to die or get raptured so that I could be changed to be like Christ. I wanted to be changed in the twinkling of an eye. I think a lot of people want that. It beats the heck out of growing up. I find myself wondering: if you refuse to grow up in this life will you get to in the next? Why should we be able to refuse the hand of God growing us up to maturity in this life and expect it to be given to us in the next? If God has truly saved us should he be saving us now? And if he is not saving us now are we really in his hand?

I’m just asking. I realize that just because God doesn’t appear to be doing any work doesn’t mean he’s not. I certainly showed no external signs of being delivered from bondage the first thirty years of my life. It took that long for me to even recognize the brokenness that surrounded me was just like water surrounds a fish.

It wasn’t until the ceiling fell in around me that I was able to see. I understand now that if that hadn’t happened I would have gone to my grave in bondage. Thankfully, gratefully, at the age of almost 50 I find myself sitting on the floor cleaning up debris and catching a glimpse here and there of the glory of precious wood underneath.

Hope you can find yourself going below the surface to the good things underneath. I will leave you with some Dan Fogelberg lyrics even though they deal with water and not debris and possibly don't apply at all.

Some people tell you they're trapped by the distance And can't get what they want most They throw up a wall and then call for assistance And make no attempt to get close

You're running so fast that you can't find the past And your future is wearing thin Come from behind it's a matter of time 'Til you see where you've always been

Oh, I think you should know You've better go slow below the surface And easy through the waves You better go slow below the surface And easy through the waves You know that your life must have a purpose You better make a stand while you still can.

Grace and Peace,

Brad