Running Home

New Balance shoes make thumps on concrete as elementary school children race off the steps- the flood gates open and the pursuit for home from the school bus begins. The last child to exit the bus is smaller than the rest, a kindergartener, still unsure of his place on the bus… so he waits patiently for the bigger kids to take their place. The child stumpers through the snow, attempting to maintain his book bag from falling off us his body, stuffed in a warm winter coat. The mittens are falling off and his socks are rolling to the tips of his toes, his feet beginning to swell up in the frigid air. He watches as the other children filter into their tall brick homes, one by one they run, greeted by dogs, welcoming parents, and white fences. The fifth graders get to come home to an empty house, a chance to steal the television and have victory over CNN and the Home and Garden network. It’s not hard for the kindergartener to make it home, passing brick castle after brick castle it can be hard for some little children to make it to the right home. When you can barley see over the kitchen table, sometimes suburbia looks more like a bustling city than a quiet neighborhood. The wind blows as the child attempts to smack his hair from his face, as he approaches his house. Everyone knows where this child lives; it’s not hard to recognize his house from miles away because he lives in the glass house on the end of the street.

The people in the glass house are known well in their suburban neighborhood, after all, it’s not everyday a family chooses to live in a house where you can watch every waking child, every mother’s footprint, and the father returning from work. Day after day their routine of daily life is seen by all as a circus act, something to be marveled at. Their life is some drama to look onto as others lives just don’t add up. People watch as they treat each other with respect, as the father loves the child for doing the right thing, and as the company of the mother is just as good as any Saturday morning cartoon. The brick house with the white garage door to the left of the glass house have their problems, dad recently moved out with his mistress, the teenage girl ran away with her twenty something year old boyfriend. Screaming is heard from the brick houses on the streets as children are woken for schooldays, lunches are thrown out the window as single mothers maintain a house filled with peanut butter and jelly and business proposals. Secrets are kept, annual gossip sessions are held in the form of card games at the neighborhood clubhouse, and fathers are moving out left and right. Families are being stripped away with anger, malice, and deception, but not at the glass house. At the glass house, respect is given, love is expected, and joy comes in response. Traditions are kept and the children feel loved, and cycles of happy homes are passed down from generation to generation.

Of course there are people on the street who hate the people in the glass house, they feel that they built their house for the attention, for their every act to be watched and recorded by the mothers on the street. Some families are simply jealous of the openness of the home, the love and affection that is so absent in their own homes. While channels are blocked and computers are off limits at some homes, the people in the glass house are able to enjoy trust they have instilled in the kids of the glass house. No one can see the huge big screen television or the new luxurious couch in the brick houses, but in the glass house, their possessions are seen by anyone who cares to give a glance. When a new television arrives at the glass skeptical, none of the children seem to care, but in the brick house, the children beg for it until their eyes are black and blue. At the glass house, material possessions are not expected; they’re earned and received with humility and gratefulness. The father that lives in the glass house always comes home on time for work, and calls everyday when he has to go out of town for business. The mother at the glass house is not overburden with work, and does not own an apron; the father takes care of most of it. Everyone in the glass house shares the burden of the world, and no one is taken for granted, or loved more than another.

My father recently shared with me that transparency in your life results in awareness and in obedience in Christ. More often than not the Christian walk is spent in hiding, hiding behind walls of sin like the people in the brick houses. Sometimes the shame of a loved one keeps us from enjoying their company, and sadly, sin is not smothered with love, but with guilt and, in return, more sin. The more we hide the more sin bundles up inside of us like weeds overtaking a garden. The people in the brick house were certainly jealous of those in the glass house; sure their life is on display, but for the good of others. The family in the glass house doesn’t cower in sin; they embrace their downfalls, are drawn to redemption, and lean on others in fellowship. We can make the Christian walk so much harder than it was ever meant to be. Our families can hide in sin very easily, the teenage boy can be afraid to tell his parents that he’s bullied in school. The eight-year-old daughter can come home from ballet; too terrified of her parents to tell her she did not make the cut to go to regionals. Yes, sometimes we can use sin to burden our faith, and keep ourselves hidden under a blanket. We live with the weight of what we’ve done. Life would be so much easier if we were transparent.

If we lived in a glass house we’d have nothing to hide, we could conquer sin, and people could help us with what we’re going through. Its not a horrible thing to be predictable, to have integrity, and to be the man or woman you claim to be. Its time to own up to who we are in Christ, and stop letting sin keep us covered up and guilt us into a becoming a different person. If we lived for Christ, became transparent, now that would make our lives so much simpler.