God as our Landlord.

I live in a really old house in Nashville. I mean really old. Built in 1928, our dear girl has a few issues.

So far we have had one of our toilets completely replaced, a bug infestation (actually might have been rats but for the sake of my sanity I’m just gonna keep saying bugs), the gutter on our house is falling off, parts of the roof are missing which led to random creatures running around in our attic, and so much more.

Don’t get me wrong. I love this house and this amazing porch swing. 

But we’ve had to be in touch with our landlord a good bit. Their team is probably sick of us reporting a problem.

Besides when we have an issue, we never talk to our landlord. I don’t know what she looks like. I don’t know a thing about her. I feel like they probably get sick of me always coming to them with our issues, but I know they’ll always respond.

And I wonder if God gets tired of me treating Him like that. I come to Him when I have problems which He is glad about, but when everything is fine I don’t take the time to continue to get to know Him.

His Son paid the cost for my rent in heaven. I get to spend eternity with Jesus free of charge. The Lord lets me be on this Earth to further His Kingdom, and it all came at a cost.

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us an sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. – 1 John 4:9-10

God comes into my brokenness and makes me new. His mercies are bountiful every day, but it’s hard to see His gifts and His love when I don’t make the active choice to spend time with Him.

This week, I want to grow in my discipline of waking up and spending time with Him each morning. I want the Lord’s voice to be the first voice I hear each day. Not my TV’s voice, not social media’s voice, no one but the Lord.

I challenge you to the very same thing this week too. Thanks for reading, friend.



2 thoughts on “God as our Landlord.

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