The “Right” Article & The Right Moment

Every now and then I write an article that sits in my documents folder for an extremely long time.

Sometimes it’s because I second-guess whether or not the article is truly worth posting, and other times it’s because I have articles that I think would be “better” for me to post instead.

The article I’m sharing today is a bit different though.

From the moment I finished writing this article, I had the urge to share it. Not just here on my website, but with my friends, my family, and a few other people I know.

There were only two problems…

One, this article is extremely personal. It reveals a lot of my struggles to an uncomfortable degree.

And two, I had originally written this article for a different purpose, so I didn’t feel like I had the right to share it myself.

But a lot of things have changed since I first wrote this article.

I no longer have a reason keeping me from posting this article on my own website. And while I’m still a little nervous about being so honest with all of you, the fear isn’t as paralyzing anymore.

So, without further ado, here’s the article that almost never saw the light of day…

The Parable

I was sitting in church a while back when my pastor brought up Matthew 7:24-27, which says:

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”

It’s a well-known passage. One that I’ve heard over and over again since my Sunday school days. 

I remembered that after reading out the parable, Ms. Cathy, the Sunday school teacher would look around at all of us and ask, “Now, which house would you rather live in? The house that was built on sand, or the house that was built on the rock?”

Of course, there would always be one or two kids who’d shout “the sand house!” just to be funny or different, but me and the rest of my fellow elementary-aged peers would place our votes on “the rock” since we all wanted to say the right thing—whether we truly understood the parable or not.

The Meaning

I always had a fairly good understanding of what that verse meant, even as a child. 

I knew that it was a good warning, and that it was reminding us to listen to Jesus’s words and live in a way that honors God. By following his commandments as Christians we’d be building our faith and our lives upon a firm foundation—one that no bad days, family emergencies, or broken relationships could shake.

My main concern at the time though was that I didn’t want anyone to think of me as a “foolish sand-house-dweller”. And as an adult, I’d still prefer to be counted as wise instead of unwise (but I’ve found that part of that desire stems from perfectionism and pride—which is a whole different problem that God has been working with me to fix).

The Storm Will Come

But after the pastor read that section in church, he looked out over the congregation and brought up a point that I had always overlooked:

“Whether you build your house on the sand or on the rock, the storm is still going to come.”

I sat there listening as the pastor moved on to another point in his sermon, but my mind kept coming back to that one line.

“The storm is still going to come.”

Jesus had made it very clear in John 16:33 that our lives as Christians weren’t going to be easy—not that I needed a verse to figure that out.

There have been plenty of “storms” in my life, and I’m well aware that there are plenty more to come. 

If someone were to walk up, look me in the eyes, and ask me right now, “Have you built your house on the sand, or on the rock?” I’d probably say that it’s obvious that my house is on the rock. 

After all, if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have made it through all those previous storms.

But, if I were to sit down and take the time to truly think about it, can I really say without a shadow of a doubt that I’ve only built my house on the rock?

Dual-Minded

In a way, it feels like I’ve built two houses. One on the rock, and another on the sand. 

Which house I stay at usually depends on how I’m feeling, and whether or not I choose to give into those feelings.

Am I stressed? Afraid? Angry? It doesn’t matter. Both house doors are always standing wide open for me to walk through.

The Rock

The house on the rock exudes security. Inside, it’s quiet—too quiet. 

But the silence allows me to hear the smallest whisper, or encourages me to share my honest thoughts with God, or the people he invites into my home to speak with me. The warmth and quiet form a peaceful atmosphere, perfect for writing, reading, drawing, cooking, baking, or anything else I want to do. 

I know… You’re probably thinking, if it’s so great even when there aren’t any storms raging, then obviously I should want to spend all my time in the house on the rock, right?

Well, the thing is, there’s a bit of a catch…

Before I can enter the house on the rock and enjoy the silence, peace, and warmth, I need to take off my shoes of bitterness and remove my coat of shame. And to avoid cluttering up the place, I also have to leave behind the things that I don’t need.

Do I really need to carry around the belief that I’m unworthy of being loved? 

Is holding onto that memory of my so-called childhood friends ignoring me at my own birthday party truly that important? 

Is it necessary that I haul around a duffel bag stuffed with flashbacks of every awkward conversation, disappointed hope, and crushed dream?

Probably not… But I’ve held onto some of these thoughts, feelings, and memories for so long that I don’t know who I’d be without them.

And that terrifies me.

The Sand

Unlike the house on the rock, the house on the sand doesn’t have any restrictions at all. 

Not only can I keep my shoes and coat on, but I can also bring in whatever baggage I want. This house offers the solace of entertainment: videogames, movies, books, chocolate, French fries, ice cream—anything to distract from the shame burning me up inside, or keep my eyes off the muddy trail of unforgiveness I leave in my wake.

The house on the sand allows me to store box after box of memories I can’t let go of. I can stack them up high against the walls and in the corners, out of sight and out of mind unless a stack falls over and hits me out of nowhere, or I trip over a box on my way to the next distraction.

When that happens, it’s like the blinders come off. I finally see what a mess the house is, and what a hoarder I am. It becomes clear as day—the disorganized boxes of bad memories stacked here and there, the false beliefs and lies strewn about or piled up on the floor like dirty laundry, and even the grime from my shoes coating the ground like an uneven layer of varnish.

Then I finally notice how hot it feels inside with my coat on, and the heat becomes unbearable to the point where I can’t stay in the house any longer. I sprint to the door, and the moment I step outside, the first thing I do is look up. 

That’s when I see the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

Weathering The Storm

At that point, I know I can’t go back to the house on the sand. Not if I want to survive the storm.

So I leave everything behind. I enter the house on the rock, and that’s where I shelter from the hurricane.

Though the storm shakes my house, the foundation is solid and never budges. The quiet inside the house allows me to hear every raindrop pelting against the roof, the wind howling and clawing at the door, and each crack of threatening thunder. But no matter how bad it sounds, or how long the storm outside seems to rage, my home on the rock has always kept me safe and dry.

A Dangerous Cycle

It’s become a cycle. Sheltering in the house on the rock during the storm, but eventually finding myself back in the house on the sand—surrounded by a mess that I’m determined to ignore until I look up and see the storm coming.

But what if one day it’s too late?

What if at some point, the distractions keep me in the house on the sand until the storm is already raging outside?

I don’t want to imagine that happening, but I’ve seen it happen enough times to people who I care about to know it can and will happen to me too if I keep visiting the wrong home.

The Choice

The houses have already been built, and the storms are on their way. 

I know that the doors to both homes will remain open to me for the rest of my life, but one of those doors needs to be shut, locked, and barred. And the key needs to be thrown into the sea and swallowed up by its depths.

It’s certainly easier said than done… But I know that with God’s help it can be done.

And that’s what I’m working toward.

So the next time someone asks me, “Which house would you rather live in?” I can say with confidence:

“I want to live in the house on the rock.”

Before You Go…

Which house would you rather live in?

You’re more than welcome to let me know down in the comments, but more importantly, I want to encourage you to think, pray, and journal about your answer.

Does your answer reflect where you actually spend most of your time?

Read last week’s article here.