Bathroom Spirituality
previously published in March 2008
The ugliest bathroom is gone. The terrible dark wood stain paneling, the Crayola green paint above the wainscot panel, and the large bathroom vanity is gone. Most importantly, the ugly drop down ceiling is gone!
In 3 hours, a guy I hired and one of the kids at church, tore down the ugliest bathroom. And I own it.
Let me tell you a little about the history of this house. I bought this house about 4 years ago, after the suggestions from my coworkers: "Interest rates are the lowest they've ever been. It's a good investment. Don't waste your money paying rent. . . "
Now this is an old house: 128 years old. Many people have told me it was a terrible decision, even by my own family and church members (except those that live in my town). In fact, the resounding opinion was: It is best to sell it as soon as you can. Or "Aren't you afraid to live in that house all by yourself?", "You paid too much for this house!" "Is your house cold this winter?" the underlying message was: Sun-Ah, you're crazy to buy a fixer upper when you don't know what you're doing and it's going to cost too much money.
Despite their quiet and discouraging mumblings, I've kept it after all these years.
So back to the bathroom. This event, demolishing the bathroom, was like a colon cleanse except it was a bathroom cleanse—truly—there were some pretty gross things in there.
How can you live in a bathroom when there were gross things underneath—it was bound to seep through the walls. Furthermore, we found termite damage, which appears to be recent, and mold along two sides of the wall. How would I have known, unless the walls were torn down? There's something said about working from the inside out.
There's much to be said about spirituality and remodeling an old house.
We are all like old houses—many of us, if not all, carry a bit of our generational curses. So over the years, the junk of lying, hatred, unforgiveness, cheating, stealing, jealousy, pride, arrogancy, sexual immorality, murder (whether the actual thing or the metaphorical thing), has been building up generation after generation.
Oh, yes, we look so sweet on the outside, but what's really going on in the inside? Do you have the mold of cheating, the termite infestation of pride, the weak foundation of faith?
Then one day, you read a verse or two, hear a sermon, or most importantly, the Holy Spirit—and the truth is revealed—the sins in your life.
The question is: what are you going to do about it? Just cover it up with some really bad fake paneling, how about some cheap wallpaper, or just one layer of paint that was on sale at Lowe's or Home Depot...or are you going to ask God to tear it down even more—to the studs and bare brick walls?
So I asked George to come to my house to demolish this bathroom. I am humbled by God's providence and mercy on me, for I also asked my church family to help me move some furniture. The response was amazing. I needed them, for this was a fearful time for me. As this bathroom was being tore down, I was surrounded by my Christian family who came to support me in this new phase in my remodeling process. It wasn't a house warming party, it was a breaking down the bathroom party. We were celebrating that this was being done.
How much more do we need to do so with our Christian brothers and sisters, who are struggling with their character defects? Let's keep the focus on me: How much I need you, brothers and sisters in Christ to surround me, when I am struggling with my character defects!
What about you? Do you need to be embraced by one of us, or how about a group of us, who will love you just as you are?
Let God be the general contractor of your life. Let Him rebuild you up to your true potential. Yes, others may not see anything worthwhile in you. But I know a God who sees what no man can see.
Let us, Church, gather together around those who struggle. Let us embrace them with the unconditional love God has given to us. Let us go to the God who has embraced us, so that we too can embrace those who struggle to even believe in something so invisible, but that is so present with us.