Sometimes when friends visit for the first time, they're shocked when they step inside. Yes, it's a pole barn house but the space inside and the windows wow them. They see the sky lights and ceiling vaults (which add to the spacious feel), they see the custom cabinets in my kitchen, but they forget Jim was not only a contractor for 25 years, but that his first love is crafting furniture, so the cabinets and old style door trim are just par for the course. They oh and ah and then sometimes they'll start comparing it to what they have. I hate that.
See, I've been in their homes. Sure, the house is usually smaller than ours, but their hallway, if they have one, might be 10 feet long. But do you know what I notice? The furniture and how neat and clean and coordinated everything is.
Recently a friend visited and was wowed by the house. I sat there and tried not to stare at the ancient, ugly, worn out couch she was sitting on and tried not to remember the over-stuffed, gorgeous, ultra-comfy couch I sat on at her house. I'm telling you, it was tough.
But how many times have we done the same things in our lives? How many times have we thought, “Oh, if only I had ____ like you!” Whether it's a character trait or talent or anything like that. We've all done it!
Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker, to him who is but a potsherd among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, 'What are you making?' … this is what the Lord says—the Holy One of Israel, and its Maker: Concerning things to come, do you question me about my children, or give me orders about the work of my hands? ~Isaiah 45:9, 11 NIV
“For I know the plans that I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.” ~Jeremiah 29:11 NAS
It made me stop and think and be grateful for what I have. No, I don't have a living room people want to photograph for magazines—unless it's for the worst décor and oldest, ugliest furniture. But I do have a spacious house, there's room for all of us. I have a laundry room with a door on it so I can close the door when it's especially bad or when company comes. I have a house that serves its purpose, and serves it well.
Can the same be said of me? Am I so caught up in the fact that I'm an orange velour couch in a leather couch world that I miss out on serving the purpose God has for me?