Clearing House

The last year has been tough in one particular regard.

God has been clearing out my "house" of all friends and acquaintances who are proving not to be much of friends. It feels like He's sweeping a table of all sorts of cluttered acoutrements and they're crashing to the floor. People are either eliminating themselves from the pool by conspicuous inactivity, or doing outrageously hurtful and unacceptable things, or I start picking up the clue phone that they are likely to start doing hurtful and unacceptable things, or they're just so unbearably shallow, immature or negative that I can't bear to be with them one minute longer.

The first one was so traumatic. When it happened, God told my heart, "You cannot afford to have untrustworthy people like this around. Do not give them access."

It has not been fun.

Back when we first became good friends, my college buddy Heather sent me a hilarious card. It said on the cover, "If you treat a dog well, feed it and take care of it, it will be loyal to you for life."

Then inside: "Scratch me behind the ears and I'll follow you anywhere!"

Hysterical. But then, that's what loyal friends do. They hang on. They show up. They grow but don't change in detrimental ways. They push you toward genuine maturity. They don't leave you hanging. They support you in the tough times and celebrate in the happy ones. They don't demand unfairly from you. They respect you. They forgive and think the best of you.

And that's what I've been doing for a lot of people who, I am coming to realize, were not showing up for me. And this year, God is seeing fit to give them pink slips. One by one, in spite of my most earnest wishes to the contrary, the Divine Donald Trump is saying to them, "You're Fired!"

I was angry at someone tonight. Really angry. So much that it hurt in my chest, right up at the top of my lungs. Whatever that means. The inconsiderate self-centeredness of people, not only at my expense, but also at the painful expense of others who deserve the highest respect, never fails to astound me. And yet my tolerance for the same also astounds me. And as I debriefed in my frustration with Mr. Mojo, he commented, "It sounds like God is clearing out your house."

He was referring to a scripture prophecy we'd received on November 9, the feast of the Dedication of the Basilica of St. John Lateran. "Zeal for Your house will consume me"... as Jesus kicks all the moneychangers and animal sellers out of the temple. I had seen it as very clearly about Mojo, but he recognized tonight that it applied to me as well.

It wasn't pretty when Jesus did that job. There was a lot of noise, flapping around, shouts of indignation, protests that He was being too radical. Scripture says He was overturning tables, so that means there were feathers and money and animal doo-doo and goodness knows what else scattered everywhere. What a mess. People were probably angry with Him. Yet it was a holy zeal and a righteous anger that made Jesus fashion a whip of cords and stand with authority for the holy house of God.

If we are the temple of the Holy Spirit, then God isn't pleased when people make a mess in our house. He isn't pleased when there's a bunch of moneychanging, neglect and dishonest gain taking place at our expense. The holiness of the house in which He dwells must be respected. And when He cleans house, sometimes it's messy and often people don't understand and are unkind about it. So be it.

This is a house to be respected, for it is made in the image of God and it hosts the presence of the Spirit of God and represents the Name and Life of God. It is a sanctuary and must not be violated.

Thank You, Lord, for clearing out my house, so there is more room for You to live there in holiness, fruitfulness and good pleasure. Be pleased to rearrange the furniture and bring in people to this sanctuary who belong here in Your presence with me. Amen.