- The Carpenter's Journal - https://www.cjournal.me -

My Halfway House

It wasn’t actually a physical place, but I spent a lot of time there.  

Even though I knew a certain level of responsibility was expected from me, I was convinced I was a work in progress, and that, eventually, I’d gain the maturity and insight needed to live fully accountable to Him.

But nobody seemed to be in a hurry for that to happen. 

And I must confess that I still spend a night there on occasion.  But, in hindsight, I’m able to see what made me a parolee for so long.  It was an insatiable desire to have my cake and eat it too.

I was hell-bent on getting what I deserved. 

For much of my adult life, I was aware of a spiritual struggle going on inside me.  Godliness was a genuine goal, but I couldn’t find a way to give up my love for the world and all that was in it.  And, unfortunately, I wasn’t alone.  I had a massive support system in that house.  If anyone tried to hold me accountable for my behavior or my speech, there was always someone willing to plead my case.  I never even had to ask for it. 

And, of course, I was always obliged to reciprocate. 

But the Lord was my parole officer, and, after a while, He did indeed give me what I deserved.  He handed me over to the duplicitous lifestyle I couldn’t seem to get enough of.

As a result, my fence sitting went from a being frequent passion to an insufferable habit. Eventually though, I discovered the reason why fences are built, and it wasn’t for people to sit on.

I also discovered that I actually could walk consistently on the right side of them.

My God is a patient, powerful and compassionate God.  

That’s a fact.