The condo on a mission.

If you've never heard the story of our condo, start here. Only God can take a few measly walls, some splintered souls and dried up intentions and make eternal masterpiece. Only God.

Only He can take what I thought was a story with a beginning, middle, end, and slap me open with His relentless, "It ain't over, baby!"

And oh baby, it sure ain't over.

I suppose it makes most sense for me to let you see what I wrote at the beginning of December. Yes, let's start there:


My fingers shake with jitters – thin bones itchin’ like fleas to jump skin.

But this is too good not to type.

Oh God. I thought you had moved on from the mess I offer. And here you are, knocking open the door of my heart, draining me empty, filling me whole with your will.

Your Kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.

It’s been a year and a half since I received that phone call from my friend, Jess, asking my family to live in her house. And shortly after we were invited to live in someone else’s house (RENT FREE), we were given the opportunity to allow someone to live in our condo.

Between us and God, mountains were a movin’.

At least that’s how it felt. Over the course of the next several months, we were jivin’. It was as if God tossed us into the front cart of the Matterhorn and together we sped through the majesty of His creation, touching lives with each twist and turn. It was exhilarating.

Except it wasn’t us at all. It had nothing to do with us. It never did.

God was movin’ mountains and homes and lives and for a moment, He gave us a peek.

But then a few months ago, sometime over the summer, everything slowed down. It was as if we pulled into the loading dock, got out of the car, and the amusement park had vanished. And God, He felt distant. And I was bitter. I had this inner conversation (prayer) that went something like this, “Dude, God, yo, remember me? {Sometimes I pray in jive.} Remember us? We had something and it was real. Don’t you remember? Things were happening, man. You and me, God, we were legit. So what’s up? Where you at? Because I thought we could get back together and start rockin’ again. You in?”

Cue crickets.

In fact, not only did I feel silence from God, but Sharon, the one who had been living in our condo, moved out. And so now we had this home – this condo – sitting empty. Leaving us with a decision – what should we do with the condo? After everything God had already done, it just felt wrong for it to sit empty.

And so we prayed – God, what should we do? Sell it? Rent it? Allow someone to live there? God, please show us. Direct us. Lead us.

Cue more crickets.

We got nothing. Nothing. We felt zero peace about any of those options. Yes, we would love to sell it and be able to save money for a future home (the Browns, the family who is allowing us to live in their home rent-free, will return to their home some time in the next year.). Or we could rent it, so as not to lose money on a sale, and still be able to save money. Or we could allow someone to live there who needs a home – but who?

And still nothing. Nothing. To be honest, I was frustrated. Because now this condo, this condo with a story and a history and quite frankly, this condo on mission, was empty. And it didn’t make sense.

So we went with our flesh. And we put it on the market. Because we would love to sell it and save.

But the answer to that decision became obvious almost quicker than it took us to put it on the market. Within a week of listing it, we lowered the price because of the surrounding market, and within a month, we received an offer so offensively low that we knew we needed to reconsider our decision.

And so just last week we started talking again, maybe it’s time to put it on craigslist and find a renter. Maybe that’s what God wants. Because clearly selling it isn’t the answer.


And clearly, it wasn't.

But what was the answer?

Only God.

Stay tuned for the answer . . . tomorrow.