Dwell

Our home, our tiny little bursting-at-the-seams house, is absolutely priceless to me. We have hacked away bit by bit at the nineties vibe that I myself am responsible for, worked on improving its structural flaws, and allowed daily life chaos to show us the best possible uses and places for everything. And in this TLC, I suppose I have fallen even more in love with the place, as imperfect as it is.

Oh yes, there are imperfections. I battle out-of-sight, out-of-mind constantly. And then there are the man-child residents, roughly rough-housing the house. Holes in the floor, holes in the wall, trim paint chipped to look like polka dots. It will all get fixed someday.

Until then, we live here. Not just live, but dwell. I love the word. It means to stay, to reside, to make a permanent home. Indeed. But so much more than that. When something is dwelt in, you can tell. It is used. Loved. Real.

I could sit for a week straight eating rainbow sherbet out of the carton and watching Fixer Upper reveals. Y'all, it's like magic, the old made new and simplicity and weathered-ness of everything. Just perfection. But as I see these finished products, there's that little voice inside me. The same voice that reminds me that, no, the scale at the doctor's office is not calibrated too high and, no, I will most likely not get to meet Denzel Washington in real life. The voice says, "They don't live there yet."

Perfection never lasts.

But honestly, should it? Because it would come at the expense of something. Sanity. Relationships. Probably both.

For me, the cost would be far too high, and I'm not even remotely talking about money. To tear my kids to shreds for yet again spilling something sticky. Or to build a wall between myself and Trey when I find that he has yet again smeared bright blue toothpaste on the bathroom light switch. Or to make my tender-hearted Aden cry when, day after day, he takes his shoes off after school only to scatter hundreds of tiny playground pebbles all over the kitchen floor.

Home should be home. Period. A place of comfort and love, a place to let down every guard, a place where you don't have to be strong. A place you look forward to coming, that glows and surrounds you with its warmth. A place that fits you, where perfect is optional, where grace and apologies flow, and you can actually be your true self, mess and all.

And it's a mess sometimes. Really. While I overlook most clutter piles and am horrible at cleaning, aiming for straightened up once or twice per week has become the accepted norm among the four of us. And it's OK. Because we dwell in our home.

The word dwell is all over the Bible. And so very powerful an illustration of God's relationship with His people.

The promise that one day we will dwell in the actual presence of God Himself.

Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Psalm 23:6

For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe. I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.
Psalm 61:3-4

But also the immediate promise of Emmanuel, God with us. Christ and the Holy Spirit in us, who have accepted His finished work on the cross and have been engrafted as His children.

Let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly.
Colossians 3:16

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Ephesians 3:16-19

And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.
Ephesians 2:22

When Jesus dwells in you, it should show. Because as perfect as we can try to make ourselves appear this side of Heaven, the true child of God can't have all their ducks in a row. Growth, the effect of Christ in your heart, is a long and sometimes painful process.

Two quotes from literature I have a very hard time reading these days. First from The Velveteen Rabbit and if you know me at all, you know exactly why I can't read this anymore.

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That"s why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

This from C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity, the most highlighted and underlined and margin-written book on my shelves, that I will read again someday when my brain cells have recovered from motherhood.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

Dwell in me, Lord. Richly. Visibly. Leave no doubt. Make whatever mess You need. And then please, Holy Father, restore me.

Welcome to this heart of mine
I've buried under prideful vines
Grown to hide the mess I've made
Inside of me come decorate, Lord

Open up the creaking door
And walk upon the dusty floor
Scrape away the guilty stains
Until no sin or shame remain

Spread Your love upon the walls
And occupy the empty halls
Until the man I am has faded
No more doors are barricaded

Come inside this heart of mine
It's not my own, make it home
Come and take this heart and make it
All Your own, welcome home

Take a seat, pull up a chair
Forgive me for the disrepair
And the souvenirs from floor to ceiling
Gathered on my search for meaning

Every closet's filled with clutter
Messes yet to be discovered
I'm overwhelmed, I understand
I can't make this place all that You can

Come inside this heart of mine
It's not my own, make it home
Come and take this heart and make it
All Your own, welcome

I took the space that You placed in me
Redecorated in shades of greed
And I made sure every door stayed locked
Every window blocked, and still You knocked

Take me, make me
All You want me to be
That's all I'm asking, all I'm asking