Tiny Houses

            Could you live in a tiny house? It’s all the craze these days. I love watching the tiny house shows on TV. I’ve told Jane many times that I could definitely “go tiny” but she’s not really sure I could, and she’s absolutely sure she couldn’t. Imagine, living in a house the size of a garden shed!

            I think what fascinates me most about the whole concept of “living tiny” is the willingness of many to give up the things that most of us assume are absolutely necessary. For example, I think most of us consider a stove, oven and full-size refrigerator “necessities” for our kitchens. Not so, for many tiny houses. I just watched an episode where the couple was completely satisfied with a single hotplate and a microwave oven. Many THP’s (tiny house people) are willing to climb into a micro-loft at night to sleep in what I would consider to be claustrophobic sleeping quarters. Or how about the “necessary room,” perhaps the most necessary room in the house? I’ve seen a few who are willing to turn the clock back 100 years and traipse into the woods to the “outhouse.” Now that is commitment to tiny living.

            I have been observing this trend for a while now and although I’d like to “live tiny” occasionally, maybe on weekends, I’m really not sure I could cut ties with the comforts of home. I like my recliner, my 46” television and my baby grand piano. I don’t want to bump my head on the ceiling when I get out of bed and I sure don’t want my bathroom to be out in the woods. Bottom line: I like my stuff.

            But when Jesus was teaching, one of the things he taught was “tiny living.” He talked about not getting too attached to our stuff, not relying on our own financial resources and not being so tied down with obligations that we could not follow Him at a moment’s notice. I know some have disagreed over the years, but I don’t think Jesus owned much stuff. He doesn’t appear to have owned real estate or even his own donkey (he just borrowed one when he needed it). He was pretty emphatic about being willing to walk away from the things that generally keep us tied down by our obligations and indebtedness. Sometimes I even wonder if Jesus wouldn’t have thought even a tiny house was a bit extravagant.

            The point is this: A Jesus follower is called to follow. Anything that prevents us from following has become a hindrance instead of a help. To be honest, I don’t think Jesus minds if you have a big house or car. I think what He wants to know is whether or not you’d be willing to walk off and leave it, if that’s what it took to follow Him. It’s easy to say yes, kind of like it’s easy for me to watch tiny house shows and say, “I could do that.” But when Jesus asked the rich, young ruler to sell everything he had and follow him, the Bible says, the young man went away disheartened because in reality, he knew he could not leave his possessions behind.

            People ask me all the time what I think the Church’s problem is and how it is that we’ve gotten so far off track. I could write a book about the subject but let me sum it up in a sentence: Frankly, I think most of us love a whole lots of things more than we love Jesus. The Church and her people have become holders of property. We’ve allowed our property to take the place of faith and trust and hope. I think that’s incredibly sad…that we could love things more than the One who loved us so much He gave up everything.

            I’m going to keep thinking about downsizing. Maybe even into a tiny house. But more importantly I’m going to be contemplating what it would look like to cling only to Jesus; to not have coins in my purse, or lots of extra clothes in my closet but to simply fall in behind the One who promised to take care of me like He does the birds of the air and the lilies of the field.

I Am a Failure

            As he rounded the last turn, he could see the checkered flag. This was it, he was going to win “the big one.” He dared not glance to one side or the other to see if anyone was closing in on his lead. Nothing would distract him now. He glared straight ahead    as the finish line got closer by the second. Then, as if in slow motion, he saw the flag begin to fall. It was falling for him. He was going to be the first to pass under its black and white glory.

            The next few moments were a blur. He pulled off the track and into the winner’s circle. There, sitting on a table was the trophy, the bottle of milk and standing beside it, the president of the racing association. The reporters were there too, pushing toward him with their microphones in hand. One of them broke through just enough to shove the mic in his face and ask, “How does it feel for a newcomer to win the big race?”

            A newcomer? Really? He’d been racing for years, starting with the dirt track back in his hometown while he was still a teenager. Year after year he’d raced…progressing from dirt to asphalt…from beat-up stock cars to slick racers…but never able to break the jinx of finishing well off the lead in the middle of the pack. His name was unfamiliar, his autograph unsought and he seemed to always fail and lose, but he was anything but a newcomer!

            So many times along the way he thought about quitting. No one would even miss him if he never raced again. Engines that overheated, tires that blew out and pit crews who worked too slow, came to be the norm. Misjudgments in how to pass other drivers, overestimating the ability of his fuel to finish the race and a lack of nerve all contributed to him being winless and faceless. His name was a complete unknown. Perhaps that’s why the reporter thought he was a newcomer.

            What the reporter and most everyone else did not understand was, that in reality, he had not been failing all those years…he had been learning. Every loss schooled him in what not to do or what to do differently. He studied the driving styles of the greats of the past. He found pit crews who were as hungry for a victory as he was. He researched his engines and learned more about tires than he ever wanted to know. He kept learning with every loss. Finally, someone who had been watching, recognized his raw talent and gave him the chance of a lifetime…the opportunity to race for it all.

            He would not have won, on this particular day, had he not failed on so many other days. He would not have known how to win, had he not failed so many other times. He would not have been able to walk proudly into the winner’s circle on this day, had he not crawled back home with his head hung low on so many other occasions. He could not have been victorious, had he only been losing before. He won because while failing, he had really been learning.

            Some of you, or perhaps I should say some of us, are tempted to think of ourselves as failures. The things we have longed for, dreamt about and seen in our mind a hundred times have always seemed out of our reach. We’ve never received the notoriety, the “props” for what we’ve done and accomplished because we’ve somehow always ended up in the middle of the pack, an “also ran,” an unrecognizable “other” in a world that only sees the “stars.” But being recognized by the experts in our particular field or receiving accolades by fickle pundits is not the real checkered flag.

            You see, the hero of our story did not simply win on the day he finished first. No, he won every day he lost, but decided to learn. He won every time he refused to quit or give in to the temptation to call himself a loser. He won, not because of what happened on the outside, but because of what happened on the inside. He won, by realizing that every loss, embarrassment and misstep was an opportunity to learn. Don't give up! Don't give in to the temptation to resign yourself to failure. Your checkered flag, or as a popular song says, your "glorious unfolding" is coming!