The hole in the side of our kitchen wall gaped at us. Its 6-foot wide mouth breathed summer air into our home as my husband and I moved quickly to protect our exposed wooden siding with a tarp. Rain was coming.
The drops slipped from their clouds just in time to hurry us back inside, mission accomplished. The future window hadn’t arrived yet, so we would have to make do with the tarp and the oriented strand board (OSB) awaiting its new home, which would be snug in the hole.
But that would wait. We had completely gutted the kitchen of our new house, and the projects were endless. Having just finished cutting the hole and wanting to move onto something else, the tarp would do for now.
The sirens, however, quickly changed our minds.
Living in Indiana means tornado sirens go hand-in-hand with summer. I’m an East Coast girl myself, so it took a few months of the town siren’s practice warnings before I even knew what it meant. This time, though, I knew. And we knew it was more than a practice warning.
Jon and I exchanged glances as the now-familiar blare rang true. My eyes darted between his and our kitchen’s gaping mouth. Springing into action, we grabbed the OSB and hoisted it up into the hole. The timing couldn’t have been more humorous, honestly.
Grabbing any moveable projects, we headed to our basement to await the alerts on our phones signaling our safety.
Tornado!
We had closed on our 1920s house a few weeks prior to the tornado. The fixer-upper was something we had prayed for, asking God to give us a home where we could glorify Him. To be honest, we weren’t quite sure of the details of what that meant. But we knew the intentions of our hearts were to create a home from this old house.
The problem with a 1920s house, though, is that nothing is ever easy. No project is a simple feat. No decision comes without accepting how barriers will arise. How unexpected, old-fashioned roadblocks will make you huff, groan, and — let’s be honest — shed a few frustrated tears.
This tornado was one such barrier. Our time was precious in that first month of renovating. We had hopes of finishing the kitchen to a livable stage before moving in at the end of the month. Every moment not at work meant only one option: house.
So having our plans pushed aside to rush to the basement meant time lost. And what’s worse, the cause of this time lost was a tornado! What if it came through our street? It would laugh at our covered hole and strike mercilessly. It could destroy our roof, our walls, the entire house.
These were fears I pushed aside as we worked quietly in the basement, listening to the rain and wind swirl around the trees.
We Build Homes
Moments like these basement-kept ones remind me of that prayer my husband and I whispered to God: Give us a home where we can glorify you. In the midst of my fear of losing it all, God has nudged my soul in the direction of what it even means to build a home.
Carpenters build houses. The bones of the floor beneath my feet and the roof above my head are not what make a home. They are what we use for shelter.
But a home — that is something we build. Those of us looking at the face of Christ and reflecting His beauty. We build homes.
We build families, spiritual values, Godly morals into our homes. We raise up children in the pursuit of raising up a soul for God’s kingdom. We build strong marriages and love that looks like Jesus.
Yes, these are the homes we build. These are the benefits of choosing wisdom. Of glorifying God.
Like a solid, old house, the homes we build must have good bones. They must have foundations able to withstand mighty winds and rain. For just like our 1920s house, building a home means our sin nature will create barriers and roadblocks that could lead to tears — or worse.
And while my husband and I aren’t sure of the specifics of how God will turn our house into a home, one thing we are sure of: Building a home means having wisdom as our carpenter.
God tells us wisdom is the very first thing needed when building a home: “By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures” (Proverbs 21:3-4, ESV).
By wisdom we build homes. This can appear a daunting task. But remember, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him” (James 1:5, ESV).
So we begin there. Asking. For yes, God has given us homes to build. Yes, He expects us to build using wisdom. But He doesn’t ask us to build blind.
Questions to Ask
Building with wisdom as our starting point, as our foundation, means not just asking for wisdom, but pursuing it. We can start in God’s Word, pouring over His choices, His character, His responses. In spending more time learning about the Source of all wisdom, our own wisdom will grow. As you read the Bible, ask yourself the following questions and look for the answer within Scripture itself:
- What are God’s desires in this passage?
- How does He handle sin?
- Which aspects of His character from these verses can I reflect today?
We will never gain wisdom simply by desiring it. We must ask God for what we lack, then dig into His own words to glean any wisdom we might cling to, allowing it to grow within our own lives.
And the more we soak in God’s wisdom, the more He enables our homes to grow into beautiful spaces that bring Him glory.
Bringing God Glory at Home
My husband and I don’t have any children yet. This doesn’t disqualify us from building our home in wisdom, though. We have laid our foundation of a Christ-centered home as our first step. Our marriage is our first home.
We next raised walls of Godly morals and spiritual values. Our home will shower the love of Christ onto any who pass over our threshold. This can only be done through the wisdom of the Holy Spirit. And in this, we glorify God.
In this, you glorify God, too. You can take up your hammer and nails and build a home wherever you are in life. Impress these values on your children. Love these morals on your guests. The more in tune we all are with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, the more our homes will withstand the winds and the rain. And the tornados.
We bring Him glory through building our homes in wisdom, for in wisdom we reflect His nature and His love. The more we seek after His wisdom, the more we seek after His heart. In this, we glorify God.
We must be careful, though, to ensure our priorities have eyes fixed on Jesus. For “The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down” (Proverbs 14:1, ESV).
Glorifying the Works of Our Hands
How quickly our honest pursuits of building a house in wisdom turn into selfish desires! Turn into barriers of our own creation. The prayer my husband and I desired would shape our new home can easily shift to selfish priorities. We tell ourselves the kitchen renovation will help our home become cozy for guests. That it will provide a more beautiful space to show God’s love to any who walk through our doors.
But like the frustration of that evening spent in the basement, our priorities can easily switch to glorifying the works of our hands instead of the God who gave us this space.
How often do we look at our children and think, Look how they love Jesus! I’ve taught them well! Or what about the thoughts in those moments of warmth by the fireplace with guests by our side: How welcomed and loved I’ve made our guests feel!
But the joys of those priorities are short-lived. For when we focus on the personal success, our apathy toward the wisdom of God grows deeper. We can easily convince ourselves this wisdom comes from within us instead of the Holy Spirit.
And in this, we tear down our homes with our own hands.
Joy to Last a Lifetime
Let us never become so consumed with the outcome that we miss the eternal. Our God is deserving of all honor and glory. Let us not attempt to strip Him of that by building our homes on sand.
With wisdom as our carpenter, though, we can build a home to glorify God. A home with a solid foundation. We can raise our children under the warmth of knowing truth. We can love our husbands as Christ loves us. We can welcome our guests into the beauty of a home enriched with the fruit of the Spirit.
These houses we live in are wood and plaster. But we can create homes that glorify God. The joy that comes from this life overflowing with wisdom lasts longer than any kitchen remodel.
And as my husband and I sat in the basement waiting out the storm — for it did, indeed, pass by our side of town without striking — I had to come to terms with the concept of losing that which we had prayed for and worked so hard to obtain.
I would rather lose a thousand houses, though, if it meant building a home in wisdom. Because our homes glorify God. And in this, there is joy to last a lifetime.
I grew up on the East Coast but now consider myself a Hoosier as I love life and farm country in Indiana with my husband. I manage my devotional-based website, To Unearth, where I encourage readers to see God at work in their ordinary. Working as a full-time freelance writer and editor, my heart and pen are drawn to stories of faith as I help people share how God is working in their lives. Visit my blog or follow me on social media!
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