Bad News.

Here’s what I hate: bad news.

Yep, a few days ago, our poor realtor had to give us the bad news that another couple bought the new house we had been hoping for.  They paid cash.   They didn’t have to wait for a closing on a former house.  They bought it.  Just like that.

And now, I sit here disappointed.

Discouraged,

dismayed,

and shaking my head in disbelief. 

Of course, as in the aftermath of all great tragedies, the question is always: WHY!?

Why was the house so perfect!? 

Why wouldn’t the builder wait!? 

Why couldn’t the house have been invisible to every other buyer!? 

Why did we have to get so excited about it!?

Ah.  And there’s the key.

We were so excited.

I mean, I had every stick of furniture arranged in that mythical house.  I had paint colors picked out, pictures hung, parties thrown, and landscaping done. 

I fell asleep each night thinking about the house.

I dreamt about the house.

I woke each morning picturing awaking in the house.

I daydreamed

all.

day.

long.

about the house.

I talked about the house to Bill, to my children, to my neighbors, and FaceBook friends. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was entering a dangerous territory.  I knew the house was becoming “my precious…”

I longed for that house.  I imagined walking through the door, pausing to drop my purse in the mudroom and then sitting at the kitchen island running my hand across the smooth, white marble counter top. 

For two weeks, my head has been full of dreams about my dream house, which was looking like it just might be a reality…until it was snatched out of my hands like a toy from a toddler. 

And you better believe I cried like a two-year old. 

Just like that, my dreams were crushed and my longings were unmet.

God had been preparing me for this.  My Bible reading on Monday, (before we found out that someone else had bought the house), was from Habakkuk 3.  In verses 17-19, the prophet declares that even though there wouldn’t be any figs, fruit, olives, flocks, cattle, [dream houses], or food of any kind, he would still praise God. 

He would rejoice!  How can someone who has no provision, no house, no food rejoice?

How?  Because even though there were no physical blessings, He still had God—and God’s salvation, and God’s strength!  And those things would never be able to be snatched away.

My life has been full of blessing in the last 14 years.  I married an amazing man, I easily had two healthy, beautiful children, we have had a roof over our head and jobs and friends and food galore. 

I like to think of myself as being thankful for all this “stuff.”  I do thank the Lord for all of these “things”.  But, I also like to think of myself as someone who would still thank God when things weren’t going my way.  If all this “stuff” was taken away, I’d like to think I would still trust God, thank Him, and yes, even praise Him.

But, I am sorry to say that when “my” dream house got snatched away, my first reaction was not praise. 

My first reaction was complete and utter dismay.  My heart ached and I felt abandoned. 

(Oh the drama, Elisabeth.)

Then, I became distressed that I was so upset.  I mean, this is not a matter of life and death we are talking about!  No one is hurt.  No one is dying.  We are talking about a stupid house, not starving orphans. 

Snap out of your selfishness! I told myself.

I also became depressed at the thought of packing up and moving.  Before, the excitement of the new dream house was giving me ample motivation to pack and power through all the tasks associated with moving.  But, now that we had no house, it was VERY difficult to want to pack a single thing. 

Plus, we are moving into a rental.  (Which was a HUGE gift from God to even find!) But, now I was calling it “The Hole.”  I mean, the little “cottage” was going to be just fine when it was temporary while our dream house was being built.  But now, it was possible that we'd be there indefinitely for all I knew.  The thought of it made me physically ill.

Then, I would catch myself being so ungrateful about the rental house and so unmotivated about packing and I would yell at myself again—You are being so ugly, Elisabeth! What happened to praising Him in the darkness, in the brokenness, in the storm!?  Was that all a lie!?

Why, yes, actually it was.

I’ve been lying to myself for years.  I’ve been telling myself that I am some super-Christian who loves Jesus no matter what happens to me or my family.  I’ve been secretly criticizing other people who complain about their trials and silently accusing them of not having a deep enough relationship with Christ.  I’ve been convincing myself that I have some sort of corner on joy and that I’ll be joyful no matter what is happening around me.

Ha!!!! 

Then, a house that never belonged to me in the first place was “taken.” 

And did I rejoice in God’s faithful presence?  Did I praise Him anyway?  Did I “feel” the joy of my relationship with Him?

Nope.  I cried and wailed and moaned and accused Him of forgetting about us.

Everyone keeps telling me that God has a plan and that there will be another house.

I know this.  I even know that His plans are better.  I even know that we will love another house.

But, what I don’t know is why I was so quick to fall apart.  Why was I so utterly destroyed over something so temporal?

Probably because I had made that house my treasure and my goal.  In just a few short days, I had put all my stock and happiness in a house that didn’t even belong to us.  When it became my treasure, my heart became attached to it in a way I didn’t even realize was happening. 

It has taken these past several days of tears and heartache and confession and cleansing to be released from the chains of that dream house.  I mean, it was like a weight around my neck pulling me down into the ocean of despair. 

It’s only been in the last few hours that I’ve resurfaced—gasping for breath, coughing and sputtering praises to my rescuer.  Jesus, (savior yet again,) has graciously guided my soul back to Him. 

Now, I sit on a rock surveying the watery trap that was sucking me in, causing me to fear and forget Who my real treasure is.  Even more difficult than losing the house was facing the realization of the weakness of my faith.  I was shocked to see how quickly I dismayed when physical blessings were taken from me. 

But rather than wallow in the guilt of my ugly thoughts, I’m learning to long for God anew.  To envision a day when I will walk into His presence, pausing to drop all of my worldly possessions and then sit at His feet—hands empty, heart fulfilled. 

Now that’s a reality to dream about!