devotional

A Fresh Coat of Paint

By Susan Duke

One sultry summer afternoon, while driving

down a southern country dirt road, I passed

an old abandoned weather-beaten house

obviously in need of repair. With my mind

intense on keeping my car steady as it

swerved and bounced on the bumpy road

that was hardly more than a path, I scarcely

paid attention to the dilapidated structure.

But farther down the road, I found myself

curiously preoccupied with the brief mental picture my mind captured of the old house as I’d passed it by. Having no pending deadline, I gave in to the nagging urge to turn around, drive back to the old house and have a second look.

What had caught my attention enough to make me backtrack to such a hopeless looking scene? I wasn’t sure, but that inward nudge would not be silent in its relentless attempt to speak. I’ve learned that in listening to the moment, often a great lesson is waiting to be learned if I will but take the time to look and hear…not with my natural senses, but with my heart.

Weeds and gnarled vines had overtaken what looked like was once a well tended garden. An old black iron arbor gate hung by a lone rusty hinge and creaked in rhythm with the gentle summer breeze. Arbor trained climbing roses, long dead from thirst, entwined still green wild, overgrown hedges that formed a fence around the front yard. My mind wandered, conjuring up scenes of what this place must have once looked like. Who had occupied this old house—and if its walls could talk what stories might they tell? As I got out of the car and strolled toward the old house, I was surprised to see that the house itself appeared strangely intact and structurally sound. Every board seemed secure and wooden shutters valiantly framed fine paned windows. The more I observed, the more I realized I was looking at a sturdy and once lovely homestead.

Someone with dreams lived here. Someone who loved flowers and life. It’s a shame, I pondered, that a property and home with such potential should be unoccupied. Why, I bet, with a little work, this place could be a wonderful, warm, welcoming dwelling place again. In fact, it looks like to me, all it really needs is a fresh coat of paint.

Back on the dusty road, I drove, windows down, respecting the endless impossible-to-avoid multitude of potholes. Thoughts of my visit to the old house made me smile wistfully as I realized the old house was an outward picture of an inward truth. By taking the time to go back and look again at what seemed insignificant I had learned something of value.

Somehow, that day, I connected with that old weather-worn house. My own heart had been feeling as bleak as the view in front of me. But seeing the potential in that old house, potential that must have gone unnoticed and missed by the average passerby made me turn around and take a second look. Strangely filled with hope, I sensed an awaking within. I began to metaphorically fix the gate, trim the hedges, prune the vines and water the garden of my own dwelling place. Though bleak and desolate, just like that old house, I suddenly knew, what my soul needed was a fresh coat of paint.

If your soul needs a refreshing, I invite you to take a journey—back to what looks impossible, back down the dusty roads of your past to what you thought hopeless, back to forgotten dreams, back to the untended gardens in your life, and take a second look. You just may find, with the help of the Master Painter, all you really need is a fresh coat of paint.

For I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish. Jeremiah 31:25 RSV

Susan Duke

Please do not use this without the consent of the author.