Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it. Psalm 127:1
What if I was radical enough to say, “Go ahead, Lord. Build my house.” What kind of house would he build? Did my children know Jesus was building my house? What does a house that Jesus builds feel like? I go to a Bible study on Monday, and sometimes there is pain in the room, sometimes joy. I don’t always know the agenda, but I know this: The Lord built that house. I can feel it. I want to be there. How can I encourage my children and grandchildren to let the Lord build their houses? Did I consciously ask Him to build mine?
As the world becomes more uncertain, it becomes critical that our houses become sanctuaries from the assaults of foreboding and uncertainty. It should be first a place of peace, because the builder is the Prince of Peace. My home affirms and honors my children. They are the best, most loved, greatest treasure. Interesting in this chapter of merely five verses, God declares that children are a heritage and a reward. They are some of the building blocks He uses to build your house just right. When the Lord builds the house, it is a privileged space open in a special and unique way to my children and grandchildren. I love them. I honor them as sons and daughters of the King, the home builder. I tell them they bring me joy! I bless them.
As grandchildren reach adulthood, they need to take responsibility for responding to the peace of the household. They should rightly comfort the younger and bring joy to their parents. Those who bring strife, hostility, condemnation, and discontent are not going through a harmless phase. They are in rebellion against God’s plan. The Architect is building a sanctuary of peace and comfort. They are tearing down what He is building.
Parents can also rebel against God’s building plan. Yelling, screaming, neglecting, condemning—these rebellious actions weaken the foundation, and separate children from knowing the Builder who loves, forgives, and honors His children.
It is more critical every day for parents, grandparents, teenagers, and children to consciously protect every thought and every word that creates the structural framework of the house the Lord wants to build. The world outside is crazy. When you step over the threshold of home, you should feel the atmosphere change.
My home will always be a welcoming place. I just bought a regulation pool table. I haven’t played pool in 50 years. It has nothing to do with pool. It’s about connection and conversation and joy and fun, and leaving the cares of this world behind. It is where I listen, affirm, honor, and scream with delight when they scratch the eight ball (the only way I can win at the moment).
My house is an exclusive place. It is open yet closed. Inside there are no storms—the Lord has built in the hurricane resisting infrastructure before the typhoons and blizzards arrive. I know they will come. They have already. He sent His angels to take charge, and we have weathered the storms well.
Most of all, I have invited the Prince of Peace, the great Comforter, to remodel often. No fear, only faith. No strife, only deference. No tyranny, only serving. I am the opposite of the world around me. The Lord has built my house, and I rest there. You will find a prominent wall plaque in my living room that says, “Love is spoken here; joy is chosen here; grace is given here.” Let the Lord build your house. Teach your children that each one must submit to the Lord’s design for your house. Actively. Consciously. With discipline. With abandon!
The Grief Experience: Blog 