"WHEN YOUR FRIENDS COME TO YOUR HOUSE"
When your friend come to your house, what is it they see?
Do they see a sink full of dishes sitting in water for Day Three?
Do they find the floor dusty and dirty, muddy paw prints abound,
And maybe a dead mouse the kitty left lying around?
If your friends follow those paw prints straight into the bathroom,
Would they gasp in horror to see the sink is covered, too?
What about the edge of the tub that should be porcellin white,
The paw prints are there also, ugh, what a sight!
Yet walk into the dining room, as small as it is,
One would think, "There's hope!" because it's almost spotless.
But turn around the corner, take one look at the desk,
And realize the dining room is unused and why it looks at its best.
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For the dishes have their path, their own particular route,
From kitchen to desk to sink, this is how they are moved about.
Yet one can only wonder where in the world could they be placed
On a desk heaped with books and bills and notes that cannot be traced.
The living room is tastefully arranged, some others have said
With matching furniture, a TV, and bookshelves packed end to end.
Yet all over the room are videos, cassette tapes, and so many CD's,
Books, papers and more books that probably killed a forest of trees!
The bedroom is last because the basement is avoided,
If you can guess why, well, you wouldn't be disappointed.
The bedroom is ok, although the bedding's hanging on the floor.
"Why make the bed? I'll be taking a nap at four!"
Your friends would chuckle, they could completely identify
For in a world that is non-stop, how precious time slips by.
Then they would move books to sit and clear a place for their coffee
Once settled, making themselves at home, just *what* is it they start to
see?
Many books on the shelf are by an author they don't know.
"Who in the world is this guy, this Max Lucado?"
Michael Card, Walt Wangarin, Phillip Yancey,
"Hey! Isn't that Roe versus Wade, that Norma McCorvey?!"
The video tapes sitting on the TV may take take your friends breath
When they see the title of the three tapes, "Jesus of Nazareth."
The cassettes when looked at closer are more than just songs to play,
They are taped recordings of sermons, a job makes one work on Sundays.
Above the television is a painting from a newly made friend
Who was moved by some poems, to her easel she was led.
You see your friends are so curious but are also afraid to ask
About a painting of three yellow roses around a glowing cross.
Hanging in the bedroom among photos, a plaque of Psalm 23,
And another of Jesus saying, "I have everything under control. Trust Me."
In the kitchen is still another plaque about Serenity, Courage, and
Wisdom,
The dining room contains the prayer for Our Father in Heaven.
But you won't find a painting of Jesus kneeling serenely next to a rock,
Or of paintings of Him smiling or laughing, nothing that would shock.
This house contains one painting of Jesus, one that shook me to my knees,
The risen Christ holding a broken man, the man could easily be you or me.
"What is that curious metal thing sitting on top of the print's frame?
The Christmas Nail? ! Now what in the world does that mean? !"
How does one explain to another who does not know our Lord
That it represents the night when Satan almost succeeded and sent me
overboard?
That after the testing, exhausted and sitting next to the Christmas Tree
I was at His feet on the Tree for which He was born ...it's all I could
see.
Pick up the Nail from the frame, it's similar to the three that He bore.
Compare it to your own hand and see if your heart isn't struck to the
core.
Look around and count the bibles, yes, 17 is almost ridiculous,
But please understand, each is unique and very, very precious.
From purse size to large print size to many with different lessons
I once joked "Which one? King James, Jewish, or a generic version?"
When you look past the disorder and see what's beneath the mess,
I want you to know it's not an attempt to look self-righteousness.
I have come to despise piety and rules so very long ago,
Ran away from God, a mistake made; forgive myself?? No!
Yet over the past years He led me back to Him, so loving and forgiving,
I had nothing left, nothing to live for, for it was Jesus I was missing.
So dear friends, when you come over and see my kitty's dead mouse,
Please know Jesus already abides here, in my heart and in my house.
"As for me and my house, we shall serve the Lord."
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