Fancy Coats and Upstairs Playrooms

 

We live in the smallest house in our entire subdivision.  The smallest.  It’s a pretty big subdivision and we live in the smallest.  A family of 6 lives in a 1400 square foot home.  The surprise baby shares a room with us…no attachment parenting here…just necessity.  This is where God called us to live a little over two years ago.  We moved from double income, 3000 sq. feet, two living rooms, a dining room, a piano, breakfast area, fireplace, guest room type home to 1400 square feet and added another human to the mix along the way.  My pantry doubles as my laundry room.  If you dry clothes without the fan on it will melt or begin a process of rapid decay.  Every piece of furniture bears the responsibility of being functional…our lovely hallway cabinet holds my boys’ sweatshirts because there was no more room in the closet or drawers.  The piano was replaced with a keyboard tucked under Jude’s bed.  The dining room table and chairs are in my parent’s storage.  The antique desk in our bedroom is filled with Skylanders and other video gaming things…It’s crazy.  It makes me laugh sometimes.  It is what God wanted for us…this house…my husband prayed and prayed and prayed that we would live in obedience when choosing our house in Katy, TX.  This is the place God chose.  This is where we live.  All close together in this little house we rent with a great kitchen and granite counter tops (I had never had granite counter tops before) and all the slices of humble pie you can eat.

 

You see, I know, I know what God wants for us.  He wants our family to live in financial freedom.  He wants us to be able to share easily with others.  When you go from two incomes to one, you should actually downsize, right?  Right.  God wants us to sleep peacefully each night, and not have credit card bills dancing through our heads.  I know.  I’ve done Financial Peace University.  I get it.  We all do.  But it doesn’t make it easy all the time.  It’s not hard all the time either.  I am a girl, though, and I have these moments when what everyone else has seems so much more impressive than what I have to offer.  We used to be the house that did all the entertaining.  We now have to eat in shifts if we have a large group…not enough room or tables to eat all at once.  It is what it is.  But I would be a liar if I didn’t tell you that the thought of a “playroom” or a guest bedroom sounds so good to me at times that I am willing to sell my soul to get it.  When the baby came along I truly thought God would move us to a place with another bedroom…more space for the tiny human that takes up no room at all.  But He had better plans.  The crib and changing table fit perfectly in our room.  We made space for Joshua’s clothes in our closet.  There is no arguing with the obvious.  This is where God wants us.

And I smiled into my obedience, and patted Jesus on the back and told Him thank you for the way He takes care of us.

I wish.

The truth of the matter is, this past spring, I became slightly obsessed with getting out of this little house.  I told myself, it’s the smallest house we have ever lived in during our 14 years of wedded bliss.  God doesn’t want us to stay here.  I looked online at other houses several times a day.  I looked for signs in every neighborhood.  I became convinced that we needed more…more space…more space to move around…the kids were getting bigger…the baby was growing daily…clearly we needed more.  People asked often if we were going to move because of the baby.  Family asked when we were getting a bigger house.  My kids wanted a two story house so desperately all of a sudden.  Grace started talking constantly about living on a farm, and her dreams of moving to the country became a small narrative which included a goat named Rosa and a cow too.  We talked about moving daily.  People would say to me that they didn’t know how we did it with all of us in this little house.  I listened as my son’s friend, while spending the night for the first time, noted that our house was, well, just really small.  Another child asked where the rest of my house was, and a friend while on the very short tour said, “That’s it?”   

 

I honestly was foolish enough to believe that the hard part of our downsizing journey would be giving away our things in order to move into a house half the size.  I honestly thought Jesus had stripped all the materialism and ego out of us as we handed bedroom furniture, extra sets of Christmas dishes, desks, coffee tables and sofas over to friends and strangers.  I honestly thought that as we made decisions based upon what we absolutely needed and what would actually fit that Jesus had worked it all out, and there would not be a shred of envy left in my precious little heart.  I was wrong.

It wasn’t the giving up and going away that hurt as much as the staying and not going back that was killing me.

You see, I wanted God’s plan for my life to be for a short time.  I wanted God’s plan for our home and finances to last just until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and then He would bring us back to a bigger house and more income with coordinating couches and loveseats and an upstairs playroom to boot.  I wanted His plan to include a return trip where we got back to “normal”, but with a much more reverent attitude full of gratefulness and plenty of stories of life in the little house to fill a Bible Study.

But there is no return trip, y’all.

God’s plan is moving forward.

And I can feel Him whisper that there is nothing worth going back to anyway.

His plan is better.  Here is better.  With Him is better.

For the past month I have been completely stuck in the story of Joseph.  Joseph, the favorite son of Jacob, from the book of Genesis.  I have read this account numerous times.  I have read commentaries on Joseph.  I have heard a sermon on Joseph, and talked about Joseph with his coat- of- many- colors- tragic- life- story to no end.  The amazing and detailed story in a very, very unworthy nutshell is this:

 Joseph is the favored and spoiled son of Jacob.  Jacob makes no bones about this…all the other sons work in the fields and tend the flocks while Joseph (who is 17 years old) stays at home with his dad.  He has this unbelievable coat that is colorful and ornate and super special which his father had made for him.  He is sent to check on his brothers and tattle if they are not doing what they are supposed to do.  They despise Joseph, and sell him into slavery.  The brothers kill an animal and put its blood on the fancy coat telling their father that Joseph is dead.  Joseph is taken to Egypt as a slave.  He is smart and God is with him so, he is a slave in an important household.  However, the lady of the house wants to have an affair with Joseph and when he refuses she frames him for attempted sexual assault and Joseph winds up in prison.  But God is with Joseph in prison.  God interprets dreams through Joseph, and eventually after two years in prison, he interprets two dreams for Pharaoh warning him of an upcoming famine, and he becomes second in command over all of Egypt.  During the famine Joseph’s family must come to Egypt to buy grain since people everywhere are gravely affected by the famine.  Joseph sees his brothers again, the same ones who sold him into slavery, and after some tests to reveal their character and a meal he reveals he is Joseph and forgives them.  He not only forgives them, but states that what they had intended for evil (selling their brother into slavery), God had intended for good (saving the lives of nations throughout the famine).   Jacob is reunited with his son.  The family moves to Egypt.  And they live happily ever after, right?    (Genesis 37-Genesis 50).

So the account in Genesis ends well enough, wouldn’t you say?  Joseph was 30 when his family arrived in Egypt.  Thirteen years of slavery and prison before he is made second in command under Pharaoh.  Thirteen years until he can hug his father and tell him he was alive all that time.  We learn in the book of Genesis that when Jacob dies, Joseph leaves Egypt to bury his father in Canaan…his homeland.  Then Joseph returns to Egypt and lives there until he is 110 years old. He makes a statement of faith at the very end of his life asking his brothers to swear an oath saying, “God will surely come to your aid and then you must carry my bones up from this place.” He dies in Egypt and is buried in Egypt. It is not until Moses is leading the Exodus some 400 years later that Joseph’s bones are carried out of Egypt.

And here is what I am left thinking:  a 17 year old young man sold into slavery begs God to release him and send him home again.  A young man wrongfully accused and sentenced to imprisonment begs God to reveal his innocence, set him free and then send him home again.  A man of 30 who is surprisingly reunited with his family and miraculously forgives all the wrong they have done in his life, surely must ask God if today is the day that he is allowed to return home again.  When that same young man heads back to his homeland to bury his beloved father after years of separation, surely he prays that Pharaoh will say it’s ok to not return and just go home…go back to the way life was…tend some sheep and get it “right” this time.  Surely.

I want the “do over”.  I want the, “Sorry we got really caught up and spent money frivolously for a long time, but you taught us a lesson and I sure won’t forget this season in a little house.”   I want my promises to be true… I WOULD do it better the second time around with exactly the same circumstances.  I want God’s plan to be a needed redirection, but one that leads to the same place I remember.  Not a totally new path that leads to a totally new place with a totally new outcome.  Even if that outcome is way better…I just want my cake, and I want to eat it too with a big ol’ spoon and maybe a tall glass of chocolate milk with a side of pride somewhere on the table. 

And there it is, y’all…

My pride.

God loved Joseph, but He didn’t love his pride.  God had people to save…nations actually…but I’m pretty sure that the pride of the young man checking on his brothers wearing a crazy fancy coat which none of them had ever received might have gotten in the way of some nation saving.  God loved Joseph, but His plan meant Joseph would have to be obedient enough to allow God to accurately interpret dreams through him and give some pretty bad news to the Pharaoh of Egypt.  And I hate to break it to myself, but radical obedience requires a humble heart.  Radical obedience requires a heart that is surrendered to the path chosen for them by the God of the universe, and not a prideful woman in Katy, TX yelling “do over” every time she ends up squished in the bathroom with her four children.  Radical obedience means that at some point I stop begging God for the playroom edition, and start thanking Him for the house He chose for us.  The house that is cozy.  The house that allows me to stay home with my baby, and write.  The house filled with voices and chaos and little footsteps in the middle of the night that don’t travel far at all to find me.  The house that has been filled to the brim over and over with women seeking to live radical too.  The house drenched in prayer.  The house God chose.  The house where I will finally ask forgiveness for all my foolish pride, and quit picking up yesterday’s news, and quit packing for my return trip. 

And I will ache here and there, but I know what Joseph knew as he made his way back to Egypt:  God is good.  He loves His people.  Our pride will get in the way of His plan. And His path will definitely destroy our pride.  But in the end, what good are fancy coats and upstairs playrooms when there are nations in need of saving…and hearts in need of humbling.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” (Genesis 50:20)