(This is an update to a devotional I wrote two years ago.)
I can’t believe it’s been two years since I watched the demolition of my grandparents’ house. It still doesn’t seem real sometimes. My family has lived in Kentucky since the days of Daniel Boone. In fact, as some of the first settlers, our land can be traced back to a deal made between my great-great-great grandfather and old Daniel Boone himself. Our side of the family has lived in that same area until now- mine is the first generation never to have actually lived there. I spent every holiday, every birthday, summer vacation and Christmas break there until my grandmother’s death 20 years ago. Over time it fell victim to the sad effects of vacancy–disrepair, theft, and people using it for their own shelter. It would have been costly to repair and likely impossible to keep up because none of our remaining family lives close enough to check on it often. When we did go and check on the property, each time there were more things broken or stolen. It felt disrespectful to my grandparents to allow it to be in such a condition, and we started to fear it was a liability. Having strangers in the house doing who knows what felt like a violation of our private memories as a family. So it was time to take the house down.
I braced myself for tears as I watched the bulldozer begin to approach the house. And then, as the dozer pushed against the house, an amazing thing happened–the house refused to budge! The driver of the dozer expected that the house would crumble on itself as he lifted it up from the side, tilting it over on its other side toward the ground. But no! The house stayed intact. He pushed it off the foundation. Still it remained whole. Finally, with much effort, there was the house, lying on its side, only partially collapsed, while the entire bottom of the house rose high up in the air, still hanging onto most of itself. It was quite a sight to behold! Suddenly, I wasn’t sad anymore. In that moment, I felt a surge of pride well up inside me.
My grandfather, along with his brother, built that house over seventy years ago. He methodically took down the house he grew up in, built in the late 1890’s, and used the wood from that house to build a new house for his young wife and children (one being my mom). He built a home for his family that was strong, ready to shelter and protect them. That house is to me a picture of my grandfather’s legacy. He built a strong house, but he built an even stronger legacy of family, hard work, integrity, and faith in God. He raised his children to honor and serve the Lord; thus did his children raise their children, and his children’s children (me). My grandfather, who I called Pa, was a hard-working farmer who also walked to town to pump gas at the filling station as a second job. Content to live right where he was, he seldom traveled. He never saw the wide and mighty waters of the ocean, just the rippling, gentle waters of the creek and of the spring from which his drinking water came. He took his family to church every Sunday. He read the Bible and prayed. Quiet and humble, he exuded strength of character and faithfulness to Christ.
In a world full of drama, broken families, and messed up people, I realize how unbelievably blessed my family has been. Watching that house come down filled me with gratitude and joy because I know that what my grandfather built in his family can never be torn down because he built it on the solid foundation of Jesus Christ and the principles of faithfulness, integrity, and love.
Do you remember the song about the foolish man who built his house upon the sand? That song comes directly from the teaching of Jesus in Matthew 7: 24-27. “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”
I hope you had a family member who built your family on the rock of Christ. If so, rejoice and give thanks! Many though, come from broken families and their lives are crumbled like the house built on the sand. And yet–it’s never too late to build on Jesus. Many years ago, my great aunt’s house was picked up and moved to another location after she died. Similarly, you can pick up your life and build on faith by giving your life to Jesus and obeying Him.