A Living House.

I lie in bed, a throaty sob escaping me. Yet another night I lie awake for hours, fear robbing me of my peace and contentment. I feel myself clinging to the thread that has held my being together. Truth be told, it is hard to put pain into words. It is my junior year of college. Contrary to what I had imagined my 20th year of life to be like, I realize that I have been hit, unexpectedly, with a difficult season. I reason with myself to find the root of this painful drought. I go to a great school. I lead Bible study. I have amazing friends, good grades, and a supportive family. As I list all of the blessings in my life, unable to find an answer, I convince myself that I deserve this pain. This insecurity sends me into a surging ocean, within waves I have never learned to swim. Countless nights I watch as gal pals stand crowded over the mirror in preparation for a night out. I tell myself that I am uninvited. I see my best friend find the love I'd always prayed would come for her. I don't celebrate God's faithfulness in her life. I watch as the things I love most become burdensome chores. I no longer remember what makes me happy. Days, weeks, and months go by. In the depth of despair, I feel lonely, unworthy, broken, and unloved. I sit consumed by my pain and defined by my circumstances. I tell myself, "I am lonely. I am unworthy. I am broken. I am unloved." My sadness, fear, and pain has robbed me, stealing away my steady identity.As I pass through the valley of the shadow, the Lord beckons me still. Here, he gives me what I need most: a metaphor.  I am a living house. In an excerpt, read from C.S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity, I am reminded that my ruins are not my identity. I am being constructed into a new creation, one that is restored and redeemed in righteousness. With these words, I am met with a solace and comfort that only Christ can give. I realize that I am powerless. It is only through Christ that my fragile identity can be strengthened tenfold. While no house can stand perfect, I trust, through this season, I am being rebuilt into something far more beautiful than I could ever imagine. I will stand, firm, on a foundation of knowledge secured through the Gospel. I am surrounded by a hope that comes not from my circumstances but from the unshakable hope secured for me in heaven. Christ himself dwells in me.In 1 Peter 4:12-13, Peter writes, "Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.”Fear screams, in times of pain and suffering, that we have been left abandoned. This perceived abandonment gives Satan a foothold into the fear of our innermost being. Assurance is met in the loving Savior, who, on the cross, took upon Himself our pain and suffering so that, we, His children, would live life and live it abundantly. This season ridden with fear will be replaced with a fullness of joy in heaven. We will no longer sit defined by our circumstances. We know that in order to be made into something beautiful, renovation and reconstruction must occur. This demolition will be painful. Just as a palace cannot be built overnight, neither can we. But when our walls are torn down and our foundation destroyed, we will hope in the masterpiece unfolding, hidden, within us. We are a living house, a cottage no more. Instead, a palace, fit for a mighty King.words by Shelby Nierman and photo by Sarah Mohan