After years of neglect, the paint on our house was peeling big time, especially on the north side. Long strips of bare wood stood exposed to the elements and public view. I felt sorry for our neighbors who had to look at this eyesore each day. But the prospect of all the work involved in fixing it up was overwhelming.
Finally, after a couple of different plans of attack, we've hired a paint crew to do most of the work. But even with help, it's going to mean lots of noise, lots of mess and many days of raw, exposed boards.
I often think it would be so much easier if we could just spray paint over what's there. Why scrape? Can't you just kind of wipe and paint over what's on the wood already? It would save so much time and effort if you could save the paint that's on the wood now, and simply add new paint to it.
But anyone with a little experience knows you can't do it that way. Soon the new paint would peel off with the old, and the house would continue to deteriorate.
It would be nice to think of the weathered look as a style choice. Doesn't a half painted house carry a certain charm? No? What if House Beautiful did a cover spread on the chic new style statement of half-painted houses? Surely after that, everyone would want one. People would be outside, scraping paint off in just such a way to make it look "weathered," giving it the stylish aging and weather-beaten feel.
Others would pay workers to remove steel and aluminum siding to get back that charming, half-painted look they covered up.
Somehow I can't see it.
The truth is, the old paint has to go. In order to preserve the wood, the old paint has to be stripped bare and primed. Only then can it be repainted. It's work, it hurts, it looks terrible for a while, it makes a mess, it's expensive, but it has to be done.
Same with our lives. We know love covers a multitude of sins. But sometimes we forget the scraping part (repentence) or the priming part (prayer). We just want God to hurry up and make us perfect. Can't you just spray holiness over the whole house, God?
He tells us that you don't stitch new material onto an old garment and you don't put new wine into old bottles. You can't do things the quicko, EZ, no pain way and hope it's going to work.
The sin has to be scraped off.
Fortunately, His blood strips sin away better than any pressure washer or paint thinner. It still hurts, though. It hurts Him, and it hurts us.
And sometimes it's pretty time consuming, as he exposes first one bare board and then another. But if we focus on the finished product, the gleaming, sparkling, fresh coat of redemption, all the prep work will appear in proper perspective and it won't seem like all that much of a trial when we look back at it later.
New coat, new day, new LIFE, new way.
Finally, after a couple of different plans of attack, we've hired a paint crew to do most of the work. But even with help, it's going to mean lots of noise, lots of mess and many days of raw, exposed boards.
I often think it would be so much easier if we could just spray paint over what's there. Why scrape? Can't you just kind of wipe and paint over what's on the wood already? It would save so much time and effort if you could save the paint that's on the wood now, and simply add new paint to it.
But anyone with a little experience knows you can't do it that way. Soon the new paint would peel off with the old, and the house would continue to deteriorate.
It would be nice to think of the weathered look as a style choice. Doesn't a half painted house carry a certain charm? No? What if House Beautiful did a cover spread on the chic new style statement of half-painted houses? Surely after that, everyone would want one. People would be outside, scraping paint off in just such a way to make it look "weathered," giving it the stylish aging and weather-beaten feel.
Others would pay workers to remove steel and aluminum siding to get back that charming, half-painted look they covered up.
Somehow I can't see it.
The truth is, the old paint has to go. In order to preserve the wood, the old paint has to be stripped bare and primed. Only then can it be repainted. It's work, it hurts, it looks terrible for a while, it makes a mess, it's expensive, but it has to be done.
Same with our lives. We know love covers a multitude of sins. But sometimes we forget the scraping part (repentence) or the priming part (prayer). We just want God to hurry up and make us perfect. Can't you just spray holiness over the whole house, God?
He tells us that you don't stitch new material onto an old garment and you don't put new wine into old bottles. You can't do things the quicko, EZ, no pain way and hope it's going to work.
The sin has to be scraped off.
Fortunately, His blood strips sin away better than any pressure washer or paint thinner. It still hurts, though. It hurts Him, and it hurts us.
And sometimes it's pretty time consuming, as he exposes first one bare board and then another. But if we focus on the finished product, the gleaming, sparkling, fresh coat of redemption, all the prep work will appear in proper perspective and it won't seem like all that much of a trial when we look back at it later.
New coat, new day, new LIFE, new way.
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