My Little House

“…But the house did not fall because it was built upon rock.” – Matthew 7:24

My little house I’ve been building,

I started on the sand and tried to make a place to call home.

A place to lay my head, to make my bed, to seek and find a peace that passes understanding.

I spent my days gathering sticks and rubbish, getting whatever I could so that I could make my home as fast as possible.

I need shelter! I’m afraid of being out in the open for any and everything to catch me unprepared!

The shack was small, but it was sufficient.

I can settle for less to be covered by my own protection.

My little house I’ve been building,

The one that was built on the sand didn’t stand a chance.

In my haste to not get caught out in the open, the quick work wasn’t worth anything.

After the first storm, the roof blew off.

Disintegrating as the rain pulled away each branch and piece of trash I had rapidly shoved together, my little house was falling.

It fell, fell, fell, my little house.

Nothing I could do to stop it, nothing I could say to tell it to get itself together.

My little house I’ve been building,

The first was a failure.

Yet once didn’t teach me what you were trying to show me.

Maybe it was too much time in the sun, but my harried mind kept making the decision to try again.

I kept seeing glimpses of someone standing nearby, doing nothing, seemingly ready to lend a hand,

But in my haste to build shelter, I paid no mind.

My safety, my health, my life!

What will happen if I let someone else help?

Will they mess up and ruin my work?

What if they build it all wrong?

What if they steal everything I have?

What if they want to share my little house?

My little house I’ve been building,

I couldn’t do it anymore.

There were no more materials, the sun was too hot, the sand kept burning my tired feet.

This is it.

I tried, but I’ve failed. This is where it ends.

But it wasn’t.

I had forgotten about the hands that were worn and hard-worked, ready to help the moment I gave everything up.

As I lay dying where I had tried to build my life, a sound made its way to me.

Just a short ways off from the sand, my helper was building on the ugly solid stone I had forsaken for an easier fix,

The flat and soft beach.

I crawled over and watched.

He shared His water first, waited.

And as I was refreshed, He taught.

When my strength returned, we worked side by side.

At night, he protected. I feared for nothing.

My little house I’ve been building,

It was finally taking shape.

I was filled with peace before it was even finished, because I wasn’t building alone.

How much greater is the work of two than one!

Now my little house is finished and it stands against every test and trial.

Storms don’t threaten to invade, and have no power to bring fear.

My little house stands, stands, stands, and I don’t live by myself.

My little house is full, full, full, and I don’t want for anything.

“…the love of God is a reality among us: God sent His only Son into the world so that we could find true life through Him. This is the embodiment of true love: not that we have loved God first, but that He loved us and sent His unique Son on a special mission to become an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” – 1 John 4:10

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