For the last twelve years my husband and I have lived in a parsonage. For those of you who don’t know all the churchy terms, a parsonage is a dwelling place (usually a house) that is owned by a church for the use of their pastor. We have been blessed that each parsonage we have lived in has been spacious and well kept. From the stories of some of my colleagues, this is not always the case.

I have heard a parsonage referred to as “the golden handcuffs.” It is an apt term. While we are blessed to be housed at the expense of the church, it is our home only sort of. We live in it. We clean it. We even have charge of making minor repairs if we need to. Yet, we do not get to make decisions. Change the paint color. Knock out a wall. Remodel a bathroom. Nope. Anything like that has to go through the appropriate committees at the church (in the United Methodist Church that is the Board of Trustees) and must be accompanied by justification as to why. The house is nice, but it is not yours. You do not have license to make it so.

It is no secret that a lot of churches are struggling financially now. Many are barely keeping afloat and paying the bills that will keep the doors open. As such, it is unlikely that the Trustees are going to approve money for any changes to a parsonage that are not absolutely necessary. If the ceiling falls or the roof starts to leak, then chances are the money will be found somewhere, but even this is not a guarantee. So, anything that is just a “want to” item, anything that is simply to make life easier or more you, anything that is merely cosmetic will likely not be undertaken.

Where I am going with this is that my latest appointment, the one that officially started just three weeks ago, did not come with a parsonage. My husband and I bought our house. It is the first time in twelve years that we can do what we want at our home without having to ask permission or consider that somebody else actually owns it. It is really nice, but we are finding that “ours” also means that the problems are also ours.

There was a movie in the 80s or 90s called The Money Pit. The gist of it is that a couple purchased a house—a mansion in this case—that looked perfect until the paperwork was signed. As soon as they moved in, the shininess of the house wore off and the problems showed themselves. My favorite scene from the movie was when the wife filled the bathtub. Just as she was about to step in for a relaxing bath, the tub fell through not just one floor, but all the floors of the three story house.

I have started calling our newly purchased house The Money Pit. It looked great every time we looked at it, which included about 20 visits online, and two in person before we did the final walk-through when the paperwork was signed. We knew it needed a new roof and a few minor repairs, but these were taken care of before the mortgage was approved. We were not prepared for the rest.

As I write this, we have a plumber at the house for the third time. The last two times were easy fixes. This time not so much. It was supposed to be simple, but because of a screw that will not budge, we are having to cut into the wall for access. Three hours later, what should have been a 30 minute job is still in progress. We have had to remove built-in shelves that gave way when we hit them with a box as we moved in. We have had to replace non-functional and dangerous lighting fixtures. We have found mold and mildew that had to be mitigated. The pool that we inherited has flooded our backyard twice and has been down for maintenance more frequently than we have been able to use it. The paint on the kitchen cabinets looked great until we bumped it. That’s when we discovered it is not compatible with whatever was underneath it, so it peels off if anything touches it. We have installed closet doors where there were none, redone locks on the outside door (that is a whole other story in its own right), replaced cabinet hardware that was not functioning, traced down the source of random water leaks, and modified a kitchen drawer that hit the handle of the dishwasher preventing its complete opening . All this on top of regular moving expenses like internet and television installation.

I know it sounds like I am complaining, but I am not. In the movie, the major projects came to an end, and the house was once again beautiful. Moreover, it was solid and functional. The couple who bought it could make it theirs and love it. It has been a month since we moved in. I can’t count the trips we have made to Lowe’s or to Wal-Mart for something we needed. But the ‘have to’ projects seem to be slowing down. Now we can focus on the ‘want to’ projects that will make the house ours.

But this blog page is supposed to point us to Jesus. I can hear what you are thinking. What does the reality of home ownership have to do with Jesus. I think maybe the answer is nothing and also perhaps everything. Even through all the trials, tribulations, and repairs we have been confident that the bones of the house are good and the structure is solid. Sure, there are problems and future projects, but nothing that is insurmountable. As long as we are confident that the house is good, then it is worth the money, time, and effort that it takes to make it even better.

I think that is a really good allegory for Jesus. Jesus never promised that life would be all smooth sailing. In fact, the Bible and our Christian history are full of stories where people’s lives were turned upside down because of Jesus and not always in good ways. Life comes with its challenges. Christian life even more so. Yet we can be confident that Jesus is good and strong. Meeting Him and growing to be as much like Him as we can be requires investment on our part. We can trust that Jesus is worth the effort, but it requires a few—maybe even a few times a few—projects and improvements on our end.

A relationship with Jesus doesn’t just happen. We must put in the work. We must “attend to the ordinances of God,” (Hey, wait. That is the sermon topic this week!) or in more laymen’s terms “stay in love with God.” That is an effort in itself. We get there eventually. It is done through regular worship, hearing the Word of God proclaimed, communion with Jesus (aka Holy Communion), prayer, Bible study, and letting go of everything that we give a higher priority than we give to God. It continually takes all those things. They may not always be fun. They may be frustrating. They may seem endless. We may grumble and complain and dread the next trip to Lowe’s, or church in this case. But when we persevere and do it anyway, eventually we will get to the point where we can find the beauty that a life with Jesus brings, just like we can see the beauty in the house even when the plumbing job takes eight times as long as anticipated. Friends, I don’t know about you, but for me a loving relationship with Jesus is worth every penny, every second, and every ounce of strength that I put into it. After all, it just takes a little effort on my part, but Jesus was willing to die for me!