Those who have lived in rural areas are likely familiar with acreages that have multiple houses on them. With the original house still standing but lacking in modern amenities or space, sometimes a new home is built rather than choosing to remodel the old one. Occasionally the old house is inhabited by the oldest generation while the next generation lives nearby in the new house, sometimes the old house is maintained on the property as an overflow guest house, and other times, the old house will grow more and more dilapidated as the years go by, seemingly forgotten in time.
Going through a transformational event and then building a new life after that defining moment is much the same. Recently going through a divorce and processing the painful events that led up to the moment when I realized that I could no longer survive my nearly 30 year marriage, everything in my life is now being built from the ground up. At this moment, I am building a new life (imagine a new house to follow my analogy) with Christ as the foundation. Newly married, my Godly and kind husband and I are building a foundation together with Jesus, with a new inner circle of close friends, working through healing and restoration of relationships with family members, embarking on a new ministry and purpose together, and blending our separate lives into one.
This morning, God showed me in a vision that even as we build, the old “house” that was established by the generations before me is still on my property. It jarred me at first because it still haunts me, but Jesus is inviting me to walk through it with him, room by room. I was finally freed from this old house with a foundation that was built with faulty materials. It has haunted me because it’s filled with memories and curses that were passed down for generations before me: trauma, broken promises, abuse, alcoholism, anger, pride, stubbornness, poverty, depression, and anxiety. I no longer live there, but I am now waiting for God’s direction about what to do with the original house on the property. I can no longer ignore it’s continued existence. Does God want me to tear it down? Let the generation before me continue to live there and then abandon it after they pass from this life? Or does God want to transform it into something good?
Part of healing is creating a boundary and a specific chapter break between what “was” and what “is.” As we sit on the front porch of our new “house” and look across at the one we left, our self control builds as we make peace with the past, take a deep breath of our present, and get a glimpse of our future to come. This imaginary front porch that we are sitting on right now is our present, and it’s truly the best place in the world to experience life from. We will do well if we can spend every moment here and embrace it fully.
From the front porch, we are open to conversations and connection with our neighbors.
From the front porch, we appreciate the little things, like a cool breeze on a hot day or the squirrels gathering nuts for winter.
From the front porch, we are able to process our past in a way that slows time down and returns it to us.
From the front porch, we have no desire to run headlong into the future, because we understand that if we rush past the little moments in an attempt to reach the big ones, those little moments that turn out to me small treasures can never be experienced again.
From the front porch, we can sit and process life’s ups and downs with Jesus, or with a dear friend and a sweet tea.
Looking over toward the original house that is no longer my home in my imagination, with it’s faulty foundation and lifetime of memories, I am getting a clear sense that God doesn’t want or need me to tear it down. He doesn’t even seem to want me to help fix it up yet, but rather is telling me to be a good neighbor, offering my best tools to the generation before me as they ask for them. If they choose to continue living in a house that is crumbling from the foundation upward, that is their choice. I know that if they ask God for his help, he is able to transform it in an instant, and this is my prayer for them.
In the meantime, I am content to experience the world from my front porch. Jesus and I are processing my memories and traumas as we go through the old house room by room in my mind. I cry as I need to cry, laugh as I need to laugh, and thank him that he never leaves my side. I love the days that new people choose to sit with me on my front porch, and I love the days that my favorite people come home and spend time with me, but most of all, I love each day getting to know my rescuer who dragged me out of that falling down house of trauma and abuse. Thank you, Jesus, for being my rescuer and my forever friend. It’s my greatest pleasure to be getting to know you better and better each day!