The Process of Becoming Usable

At the beginning of 2013, my husband Nathan and I bought a house. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but we could see the potential in it, and it was what we could afford at the time. So, we bought it with the mindset that we would eventually fix it up, one project at a time.

 

After putting it off for six years, we finally decided to move forward with one of our planned home renovations this month - fixing our master bathroom. I say "fixing" rather than "remodeling," though remodeling inevitably took place, because our master tub/shower was actually unusably broken; and in order to get it back to working order, they were going to have to bust through the tile wall (which had already been done once before, before we bought the house, as evidenced by the already non-matching wall tiles). And the tub itself was rusted beyond salvaging. The whole unit needed to be ripped out so that we could start over from scratch.

And so, since it was all coming out anyway, and we already have a tub/shower in the guest bathroom, we decided to convert the master tub/shower into just a shower. This would mean a little more work, and a little more money; but it would ultimately suit our needs better.

We talked with plumbers and tilers. Plans were made, estimates given, tile and fixtures picked out, down-payments paid, and a starting date was set.

I was stuck at home for the better part of a week while the work was being done, trying to keep our three dogs calm and quiet. (Ha!) Sitting and listening from the other side of the house (and occasionally peaking in to check on the progress) offered me a lot of time to think about the whole process of what was being done. Workers manning pry bars and saws, ceramic shattering, and the crude ripping out of the tub and walls, leaving exposed the unsightly innards of our home. The first few days were primarily for the "tear out." And so, the master bathroom actually looked worse at the end of those first few days, not better; and if it was possible, it was less functional, not more.

Also, because the estimators couldn't see what was actually behind the wall (or under the tub) before the work had begun, we ran into a couple unanticipated set-backs along the way... which would require a little more time, work, materials, and a few hundred more dollars than originally expected (not to mention the added bonus of aggravation and frustration). Our original plans had been good, but they had to be reworked a little as we went along because of the project itself.

Still, after all the tearing out and prepwork were finished, the rebuilding (or remodeling) could begin. Pipes were rerouted, concrete board installed, tiles laid and grouted, and shower fixtures and shelving put into place.

 

The whole process was noisy, messy, smelly, costly, frustrating, uncomfortable, and inconvenient. It required time, commitment, collaboration, know-how, hard work, and heavy lifting. But it was also worth it. Not only was it worth it; it was necessary.

And when it was all said and done, not only did it look better than before we started; we had a working shower. It finally served a purpose, rather than just taking up space. Not only that, but it served a new and better purpose than the one it was designed to serve before. After five years of lifting our 65-pound basset hound, Willow, in and out of the tub for bath times, we finally had a shower that she could walk into on her own, which was great news for my back! The space had been repurposed to better meet our needs during this stage of our lives.

This process - it's not unlike the work that God does in you and me.

I think we like to believe that, while we might need a good cleaning every now and again, or maybe even some minor repairs or updates from time to time, we're still fully functional, just as we are. 

But here's the truth. We may be functional at a time in our lives for that time in our lives; but then, we have to surrender to the process of being made usable, again, for whatever comes next.

Sometimes that process will just require a good cleaning. And other times, it may also involve a few minor repairs or updates.

But we need to understand that, sometimes, that process will involve a painful gutting - a ripping out and a nearly starting over. This may be because we've grown crusty from lack of use, or perhaps we've become worn out from overuse, or maybe we've even been damaged from misuse or abuse. But it may also simply be because we're no longer suited for the job at hand. Because whatever experiences equipped us to fulfill our purposes up to that point are no longer relevant for whatever's coming next; and so, we must go through some new and different things, so that we can be restructured and repurposed to remain usable.

Now, we don't plan for this sort of thing, of course. We don't set aside a week in April to get the job done, as if we're the ones overseeing the work; no, we are the "work" to be done. So when it begins, it generally catches us by surprise. It's that thing we never saw coming, and we rarely welcome its disruption of our lives or the demand for change that it brings with it.

First, the walls of our heart must be torn down, piece by piece, exposing all our ugly; exposing the decay of what remains of our old-man, the dead skin still being shed; exposing all the cracks formed under pressure, from which our faith may slowly seep out, if not repaired; exposing our weakest and most vulnerable places, where, under the right conditions, doubt and fear and pride and all forms of sin can grow like mold.

Keep in mind that this part of the process can be lengthy and gruesome, and we're likely to uncover more "ugly" and more "work to be done" than we would've estimated. And we may see the very worst of ourselves during this time. (And, God help us, someone else might see it, too!) But there are points in our lives where this becomes necessary for all of us; else, we run the risk of becoming like that old tub in our bathroom - broken, ill-suited, unusable, and satisfied to just take up space.

And while all these things are being dealt with, there will also be a rewiring or rerouting of our thoughts taking place - a re-rooting in the Truth.

All of this takes time. Depending on the extent of the work to be done, as well as the condition of our heart and mind at the start, it may take a few days or a few weeks. Or it may take a few months, or even years. God is not daunted by long periods of time, though we often are; time is one of the primary tools He uses in the process of making us usable.

We had a leaky pipe in our tub/shower, which was one of the main reasons for the overhaul in the first place. Imagine if we had asked the plumber to skip over fixing that pipe to speed things up, and we'd asked the tiler to just rebuild the wall around the leaky pipe. Sure, from the exterior, we still would've ended up with a beautiful new shower; but the leaking would've continued to cause problems that would eventually lead to us having to break through that wall, once again. And ultimately, even more time (and work and money and...) would have to go into fixing what could've already been fixed, if we'd just been patient and let the workers do what needed to be done the first time.

It's a ridiculous illustration, because no homeowner in their right mind would do that; but we might do just that when it comes to the process of being made usable. If time drags on, we will likely want to move past this part of the process before we're ready - to leave our insides as they are and to move on to fixing up the outside. But we have to remember that we are the work to be done, not the One doing the work. So, we must be patient and let God finish what He begins, however long it takes, so that the finished product doesn't just look good, but actually is good. 

Then, once the inside is fixed up and ready, the outside can begin to take shape. And we should expect that, when all said and done, we won't look the same as we did before. No, we should look better. For if we surrender fully to this process of becoming usable, allowing the Master to do His work in us, we can be certain that our finished product will look more like Him. And better still, we will be ready for His use, for whatever purposes He has for us next.

There have been many experiences in my past (even my not-so-far-past past) that I would never have chosen for myself. Hard things. Heavy things. Things that I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy. But God used (and is using) those experiences to shape me into the person I was always meant to become, so that, at just the right time, I would be (and will be) ready and able to do whatever work He has planned for me to do (Ephesians 2:10).

We all want to have a purpose. And the truth is, we all do have purpose. But we can't live out our purposes without first undergoing the challenges and the often-painful experiences along the way that are meant to shape us and to prepare us to fulfill those purposes.

This is the process of becoming usable. It's not pleasant; but it's necessary, and the end results are oh, so worth it!

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything" (James 1:2-4, NIV).

"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns" (Philippians 1:6, NLT).

When You're Too Stuck To Get Unstuck

Anybody feeling stuck in their Faith? Anyone feeling like the right answers are the right answers for everybody else, but not for you?

Maybe you’ve found yourself in overwhelmingly difficult or confusing circumstances, and your well-meaning friends have told you, “This is what you need to do…” And though their advice seems logical and "good" – maybe even Biblical – it’s not super helpful, because try as you might, you just can’t do whatever it is they're telling you to do.

Me too, friend. Been there, done that. And it feels frustratingly hopeless, doesn’t it?

So what do you do when you can’t do whatever it is that you need to do in order to move past your stuckness?

Well, you can push those well-meaning friends away – those friends who now primarily serve as aggravating reminders that you’re even more stuck than you first thought. And you can go back to trying to figure it out on your own. (But remember, the reason you shared your troubles with your friends in the first place was because you were too stuck to get unstuck on your own, so…)

Or you can make up your mind that it’s futile, that things will never change, that you’ll never get unstuck; and you can call it quits. (Spoiler alert: you’ll stay stuck if you do it this way.)

Or, there’s a third option. You can cry out to God and allow Him to speak into your stuckness – through His Word, through other people, or perhaps even through direct revelation. He longs to reveal more of Himself to His children; and though it may not happen overnight, He does promise that we will find Him when we seek Him with all of our hearts (Jeremiah 29:13). God is the master of helping those stuck in their Faith get unstuck again. I should know, because I’m the master of getting stuck…

I recently stumbled across an old email I sent to a dear friend of mine back in 2008 that depicts one such time when I felt stuck. And while I don’t recall the exact circumstances that led to this email, I remember enough about that time in my life to have a pretty good idea what “burdens” I was carrying at that time; and, to me, they felt unbearable.

I’m sharing this email with you, not because it’s a perfect “how-to” for this post. Rather it’s a perfect illustration of the grace of God poured out despite the fact that I wasn’t really looking to Him as the source of my help, nor was I expecting any help to come from Him. In fact, were it not for His grace, I don’t believe I would have even been able to see or recognize His hand in any of this at that point in my life. But God was revealing the heart of a loving Father to me, slowly but surely, in spite of my stubbornness, my pride, and even my willingness to stay defeatedly stuck right where I was.

So I share this email with you all, today, in hopes that it might encourage someone else in their stuckness, to keep seeking a loving Father who knows just what each of us needs. Your stuckness – whatever it is – isn’t too complex, too big, too impossible, too hard, or even too insignificant for Him.

Dear Katie, 

It took me until this morning to see how this all fit together, and even now I'm not sure I've got it all right, but God has been speaking to me - through His Word, through Pastor Troy, through you.

You told me the other day to take my burdens to the Father, and I told you I couldn't. I told you I didn't know how. I didn't expect for that to change. I didn't even try to make that change, really. Instead, I gave up on God with one last half-hearted attempt at a prayer.

The day before you wrote me that email, I opened my Bible for the first time in weeks. I don't even know why I did, quite honestly - and I'm not sure I have since then (other than this morning). Even more, I don't know what caused me to open to the passage I did. After unsuccessfully flipping around for a few minutes for "something good," I turned to a passage I had read many times, but never really understood - a passage I'd seen on your Myspace before:

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me - watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." - Matthew 11:28-30

The funny thing is, before you had written that email, I hadn't even associated my feelings of doubt or uselessness, or even all the problems I was dealing with as being burdens ... but that's what they were. Burdens that were weighing me down and were more than I could carry alone. That's why I brought them to you. I needed help. And even though I read that passage the night before, I couldn't see that, all along, He was right there, wanting to be the one to take those burdens for me - wanting me to bring them to Him.

After reading your email, I remembered those verses. I knew what the solution was, and I was starting to see the problem and the steps in coming to that solution. But I'm stubborn, and, to borrow from [another friend], I wanted it "spelled out in bold writing on the wall," and it hadn't been ... yet.

While taking notes on my bulletin this morning (which I rarely do), I glanced at this week’s verse. Any other week I would have thought nothing of it, but this week it was my "bold writing on the wall." Well, the first half, anyway.

"Cast thy burdens upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee." - Psalm 55:22a

If I hadn't been in church with a hundred other people, I would have cried. I almost did anyway. I had given up on God, but God had not given up on me.

The second half was the pastor's sermon. The concept of putting God first. I told you that lately it's felt like God's not here, even though He is. I also said that that was my fault, and I knew it was. I haven't really made any attempts to draw close to Him. Over the last several months, I've felt like a spiritual failure, which made my claims to worthlessness seem all the more valid, and every time I've attempted to draw near to God, the result always seems to be me messing everything up, which only leaves me feeling further separated from Him (although at this point, I don't know what I've feared in trying again; I don't think I can get much further away).

I haven't been putting God first for a long, long time. I haven't been putting Him much of anywhere actually. That's shown even in my tithe. I'm still holding back the ten percent from my last 3 paychecks. Not because I've been contemplating keeping it for myself - I want to give God my tithe; but simply because I haven't been making tithing my first priority. I didn't realize until this morning that giving a tenth to God was only half of it ... how and when you give it to Him is just as, if not more important (1 Corinthians 16:2). Same with my time. I've been giving Him the leftovers, or what I've been giving Him for years if only because I always have. He has not been first in any way, shape, or form.

That is why He's felt so far away for so long. Not because He left me; I left Him. Kind of like the prodigal son, I guess, only a modern day version. I'm like some rebel kid who moved half way across the country to get as far away from a loving Father as possible, to see the world (along with all the ugly things He's wanted so desperately to keep me from seeing) without the interference of an "overly-cautious" Parent, checking in every now and then out of obligation and reading (but never answering) His letters, pleading with me to come back home to stay.

That's why I said I didn't know how to give my burdens to Him. It's been so long, and I don't even remember how to pray. I struggle through the motions and say what I'm expected to when under pressure (like this morning), but it's not real. It's awkward. It's like talking to a friend I stabbed in the back (not just once, but several times) and trying to act like nothing ever happened - just picking back up at the last conversation. Crazy thing is, that's exactly what He wants me to do. I mean, there has to be a time of reconciliation - confession and [realizing] and accepting [His] forgiveness. But after that, it's just like picking up where I left off.

I said I didn't know how to give my burdens to God. That was only part true. I knew how, I'd just forgotten. I didn't see it [until] now, but He'd spelled it out for me before we even talked.

"Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." - Matthew 11:30

It's a part of being in fellowship with Him. "Keeping company with Him." One of the last things Pastor said today stuck out in my mind:

"You cannot grow close to God unless you put Him first."

When I put Him first, I will grow close to Him. In growing close to Him, fellowship will be restored. And with the restoration of fellowship, He will take my burdens.

I once said that "as long as you have hope in something, or something to hope in, you will keep going." When I wrote you that email that night, I couldn't find anything to hope in. I was desperate for something - anything to hope in - a reason to keep going.

Thank you for letting God use you in my life.