Seriously.
Like a love-at-first-sight Harlequin Romance, I’ve been besotted since my realtor and I pulled into the driveway more than two years ago.
Unfortunately, shortly after we moved in, trouble entered paradise. I was puttering around one rainy morning when I heard a disturbing sound.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
I traced the noise to our front window. Sure enough, on the inside of the window casing hung a glistening drop of water, suspended like a fat kid about to launch a cannonball.
Geronimoooooooooooo!
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
As the rain continued, another kid entered the pool. This one chose to land on the metal flue of the fireplace.
Plink.
Plink.
Plink.
Before long, we had a duet.
Plop.
Plink.
Plop.
Plink.
Since the opening day of the pool, we’ve chased these leaks over half the roof. Roofers have reworked the flashing, installed new J channels, shrink wrapped the dormers, replaced the shingles, and refitted the siding. Their last attempt (one of six), finally fixed the leak – until a month ago, when I noticed a suspicious stain on the living room ceiling.
“Can’t we just paint over it and pretend it doesn’t exist?” I asked my husband hopefully.
“‘Fraid not,” was his clipped reply.
If we did, we might not see the effects of the leak for months or years. But even if the water never made it through the attic insulation, down the 2 x 4s, through the sheet rock, and the paint, it could still destroy my sweet little house. One drip at a time.
Sin is a lot like my leaky roof. It starts small. One click of a mouse. Plop. One lingering glance over coffee in the break room. Plink. One drink too many. Plop. A petty theft at work – plink. A hidden purchase – plop. A harsh, critical word – plink.
Before long, our roofs are caving in.
I love my little house, and despite my hopeful yet naïve question to my husband, I want to do everything I can to protect it. We should feel the same way about our homes—our relational, moral, spiritual, physical, and financial homes. They should be leak-proof shelters.
But preserving them isn’t easy. Only eternal vigilance, early intervention, and periodic checkups can help us maintain the integrity of that which matters most in this world. Like I tiptoe across the 2 x 4s in the attic shining my flashlight into dark corners, we too must shine the twin lights of wisdom and God’s Word into the dark corners of our lives. When we invite God to search our hearts for sin, he’ll reveal areas that are leaking.
Jeremiah 17:9-10 promises: “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? ‘I the LORD search the heart and examine the mind. . .’"
Here are some flashlight questions to get us started:
1. Is there an area of my life I feel uncomfortable about when I imagine God examining? If so, why?
2. Am I 100 percent honest in my financial dealings? If no, why not?
3. Do I think about another man more than I do my husband?
4. Would I feel ashamed if someone saw my TV or internet history?
5. Would I feel comfortable bringing Jesus everywhere I go?
If we really want to be clean before God, he’ll show us anything that doesn’t please him. And unlike my struggling roofers, he’ll give us the ability to plug the leaks so nothing but God fills our hearts and homes.
Will you join me in asking God to search our hearts and shine a light on anything that doesn’t please him? Then let's commit to do whatever it takes to plug the leaks.
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