Monday, January 16, 2012

My Father's House

Going back to my Father’s house in my hometown in Panama has always been kind of like time traveling.  As soon as I step inside the house where I grew up, the comfort of sameness sets in and the memories of years past come flashing back to my mind.
Ever since my parents built that house in 1960, very little has changed.  The kitchen has never been remodeled; the furniture in the master suite, living room and dining room is still the same my parents had made for them when they got married in the early 50s.  They’ve only had 2 refrigerators and 2 stoves in 50 years (WOW!).  They got their first microwave oven 3 years ago, because my sister and I forced it into the house against much resistance.  I got them their very first washing machine last summer, and my Dad’s old truck turned 29 this January – 29 years old, that is.  His “new” car is 12. 
My bedroom still has the same ugly shade of Pepto-Bismol pink on the walls that it’s had since as far as I can remember and our old beds are still covered with the same old bedspreads from our infancy.  Needless to say then, my Dad’s house is filled with “vintage” stuff that some collectors in the U.S. would be thrilled to pay a small fortune to acquire.
It has always been charming to come in the house and breathe in the same air of my youth.  It has always given me a sense of permanence and stability, until this last time, that is.  It wasn’t until my last visit a few days ago that a feeling of unease started to stir within me.  As the days went by, the unease became regret and then it turned into anger.  I finally discovered, or rather openly admitted that my Dad’s reluctance to change is not healthy.  Furiously hanging on to the past, resisting change and pretending that we are immutable is not what we are called to do as Christians.
My Dad’s desperate clinging to “things” and his unshakable determination to keep it all the same demonstrate his desire for absolute control.  More than a desire, rather, it shows his believe in an illusion which he has tried to turn into his reality.  The fragility of this fabricated reality, however, is evident as he struggles to keep a tight rein on the circumstances he faces now without realizing that resistance to change can result in his own demise.  He’s gone as far as forbidding anyone from building a ramp which he needs in order to be wheeled in and out of the house whenever he has to go somewhere.  He has also forbidden any remodeling of his bathroom to ease the process of personal hygiene which has become a nightmare since he is unable to climb into the shower as it stands right now.
Those are just two examples of his out of control need for control.  So as I sat around the seemingly immutable surroundings at my Father’s house, I remembered how we are called to be transformed.  As Christians, we cannot remain the same.  Once we are touched by the Holy Spirit and we become His dwelling, it is impossible to stay unchanged.  We are not to “conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” says the Apostle Paul in Romans 12:2.  It is through this transformation that we will be able to “test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”  If we do not allow the Holy Spirit to transform us, change us, we will miss God’s will for our lives!
This does not mean, however, that all change is positive.  That’s where discernment comes into place.  Our prayer must be for the Holy Spirit to guide us as we walk so that we may recognize the truth, which never changes.  We must never compromise the truth.  We cannot just “go with the flow” for the sake of keeping up with the changing times and changing values of society.  We must stand firm on the solid rock that is our Savior and His teachings.  But that is not to be confused with the false believe that we are to remain immutable.  We are not!  Only God is unchanging.  “I the LORD do not change…” says the Most High in Malachi 3:6.  We, on the other hand, are to strive toward being renewed, taking off the old self and putting on the new, like Paul teaches in Colossians 3:5-11: 
5 Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. 6 Because of these, the wrath of God is coming.     7 You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. 8 But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. 9 Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices 10 and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. 11 Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.
As the car that took me to the bus station drove away on my last day in my Father’s house, I saw my dear childhood home disappear in the distance.  That house has always stood tall, at the top of the hill, seemingly unchanging, just like my Dad.  I catch a last glimpse and close my eyes.  In my memory, I can almost see my Father standing proud on his usual spot at the corner of the front porch, arms crossed, overlooking the great view of the distant town.  He loves that house and all it represents.  However, I believe time has come for him to realize that he cannot hang on to the past any longer.  He cannot continue believing that he can contain change and control everything.  Perhaps it is time for him to find rest in the loving arms of the Only One who is truly unchanging and immutable.  I think it is time for my Dad to enjoy the comfort and stability of Him who never changes and whose years never end.  I pray the Holy Spirit would whisper to him how He is the Only One that remains the same, but that comfort is at hand, for as His beloved child, he too will get to live in His presence forever. 

 In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you.  John 14:2


My Dad's 29-year-old little truck. 

My Father's House From the End of the Driveway


The Front Porch where both my parents spent many hours sitting, contemplating, waiting and enjoying each other's company for many, many years.




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