Becoming New

My wife and I live in a house that is over sixty years old.  It’s a good house, but with the numerous owners that have moved through it over the years, it definitely has taken on a character beyond what the original builders would ever have imagined.  Over the years, new rooms were added, electricity was rerouted, and new cupboards were professionally installed, among other changes.  Some of the changes have been really positive (we love the cupboards), but many lack the professionalism to be really enjoyable (why do we have two separate phone lines running to the back of our house?).

One of the most fun and most annoying parts of our house is the texture of the walls.  They are made of a type of plaster I suppose (I’ve never seen anything quite like them), and rather than being smooth, they are textured in a unique, eye-catching randomness.  I must admit, that I love the look.  Except I have no idea how to duplicate it.  I’ve repaired drywall before, and it was pretty straightforward: slop some gunk in the holes, smear it smooth, sand it flat, and you’d never know where that broomstick had accidently poked through to the living room.

However, repairing textured walls is not so easy.  Smaller holes blend in to the texture pretty well, but larger areas are hard to hide.  For example, in the 70’s the current owner built an addition on the back of the house.  Suddenly the doublewide patio door was now a single entry door into another part of the house.  The attempted repair of the area was (I’m sure) attempted with great care and frustration, but to no avail.  Forty years later, I still see clearly where a door opening was clearly patched up.  The texture just doesn’t match.

In the three years that we’ve lived here, my wife and I have taken a simple mantra to heart: It’s better than it was before.  We may not be able to match the texture in the corner of that wall, but at least the wall is no longer crumbling to dust.  We may not be able to hide all of the spills and messes from the previous painters, but at least we’ve been able to make it all one color.  We may not have a weed-free yard, but at least there is now more grass than weeds.  It’s better than it was.

It’s a great motto for us.  It keeps us from being extremely frustrated as weekend projects turn into month-long endeavors, as a simple change of an outlet requires hours of reading about how to rewire electricity, as one trip to Menards turns into eleven.  When one of us allows our perfectionist tendencies to sneak in, causing frustration with the lack of perfection in our house, the other just says, “At least it’s better than it was before.”  And then we both smile contentedly.  It is much better than it was.

However, as I think about my walk with Christ, I think I tend to let this motto slip into my thinking far too often.  Did I sin before the Almighty God in the same way for the one hundredth time?  Oh well, at least I’m better than I was.  Did I fail to pray to the Lord of my life about how I should spend my paycheck?  Oh well, at least I pray to him sometimes.  Did I allow myself to be ashamed of the gospel that I have devoted my life to rather than share it with someone who was ready to hear?  Oh well, at least I myself have accepted the gospel message.

My Christian walk has become like an old house being made to be a little better than it was before.  But the Apostle Paul declares that “if anyone is in Christ, he or she is a new creation.  The old has gone, the new has come!” (1 Cor. 5:17).

So far, I’ve been striving to be a better old creation.  I’ve been striving to maintain my same ways of living, and add my faith onto the back, like the addition on the back of my house.  But in my life, like in my house, the patch job stands out, messy and rough.

It’s time to allow Christ to make me new.