This Old House

I live a good life with my wife. She's really remarkable. I was just looking around our home the other day. The place is in our name, but, really, it's hers. I mean ... she's selected the color schemes and decorations, the furnishings and the arrangements. Oh, I look like I'm participating. She says, "That should go there" and I do it. She says, "Those should be arranged that way" and I arrange it. But ... it's all her. And I'm not complaining. No ... quite the opposite. In the immortal words of Clint Eastwood, "A man's got to know his limitations." No, I don't mind at all; I enjoy it. She really does know colors and style and furniture and all that far better than I do. She's made our house ... a home. And at holidays? Wow! She decorates ... wonderfully. It's a real pleasure. She's a real pleasure.

I hope you know this isn't about my house or my wife. Oh, all of that was true, but I'm thinking a different direction. Paul wrote,

I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me. (Gal 2:20)

Like my house, I appear to own myself ... but I don't. I look like I'm in charge, but I don't even want to be. I want my life "decorated" like He wants it and my utility the way that He wants it. I'm happy to cooperate. "You want this where?" But, in truth, it should be more response than initiative. I want my life to be like my house ... controlled by one who knows better than me. No one ever walks into my house, all decorated for Christmas or whatever, and says, "Wow! Stan ... you've done a great job!" They do recognize my wife's handiwork. I want people to see me and recognize Christ's handiwork -- the touch of the Master's hand. I haven't arrived, but I'm working on it.