Monday, March 8, 2010
I see it every time we drive into town, speeding by at sixty miles an hour, sitting forlornly atop a little hill. It is slowly going the way of all things whose life has been extinguished.
I imagine what it looked like when life filled its empty rooms, when light illuminated the darkened, broken windows, when loving hands kept it neat and clean.
Once its walls knew the sound of joys and sorrows, now they crumble in the silence. Once, perhaps, children played in the yard, now it is overgrown with weeds. Once it provided comfort and shelter, now its door stands open to the elements and the roof sags. Life has gone from the little house, and it is slowly dying.
I feel such a sadness when I see it. I cannot help but make the comparison to my own life. If I didn't have the life of Jesus dwelling within me, I would soon be very much like that little abandoned house - no life, no light, no warmth, none of the things that make life rich. I would be an empty shell, slowly falling apart. He brings light and life. He makes a house a home; He makes life rich and full. He does it for every life that opens the door to Him.