My confession of the week is that I’ve watched entirely too many hours of my new favorite show, Fixer Upper. Have you seen this?

(My other confession of the week is that I truly don’t believe too many hours of this show is a thing. Guilty as charged. It’s. Just. So. GOOD.)

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, this show is about a married couple, Chip and Joanna Gaines, who are experts in remodeling homes. Chip handles the construction, and Joanna’s the design guru. Together they flip houses from old, dilapidated structures to some of the most gorgeous, warm and welcoming homes you can imagine. (Chip, Joanna, if you’re reading this, you’re welcome for the plug.)

When someone comes to Chip and Joanna with a house in need, they find all the potential they can in it. They take the whole thing—bad plumbing, termites, holes in the roof and all—under their wing and flip it to look brand new. 

They see the beauty beyond the blemishes. 

They see the good that can rise from ruin.

They know that with a little TLC, just about anything can be rebuilt. 

But more than that, they take houses and make them homes.

Never do they judge the old structure or destroy it completely. They work with what they have and value the bones of it—honoring its history while totally reimagining its future. 

So after my 108th episode (but who’s counting), I’ve now spent a lot of time pondering the idea of renovation—an, in fact, very real theme for me this year as it turns out, aside from the show itself.

“What does ‘renovate’ really mean?” I thought to myself.

Refresh, revamp, remodel, give something a long overdue upgrade. These are a few things that came to mind. And after reflecting on some of the situations I found myself in this year—ones that humbled me, made me think differently, caused me to quit a stubborn habit or behavior, made me value my relationships more, made me understand the power of my words (both positively and negatively), and forced me to look inward at what I can improve—I felt a spiritual parallel pop out:

I am God’s very own fixer upper. 

Just like Chip and Joanna brave the shabby interiors of these houses, God comes into my heart no matter what it looks like, takes on my dilapidated, anxious, messy state, and makes me brand new. 

He takes my blemishes and makes them beautiful.

He helps me rise from ruin. 

He gives me the tender loving care I need to rebuild the weak areas of my life.

But more than anything, He takes my heart of stone and gives me a new heart of flesh—somewhere warm and welcoming to His Spirit, where I can live peacefully and rest in His care.

And He didn’t just do it on the day of my baptism saying, “Here’s a new heart, hope it works out, see ya never.” He’s still making me new every single day. 

To be honest, drawing this parallel challenged me a bit. I don’t want to be a forever fixer upper. I don’t want my heart-home to develop any more problems. I just want to be fixed up once, and then done with renovations. Because renovations can hurt, no matter how necessary they are. As I worked my way through this thought, God brought me His own—who He loves, He corrects. All we have to do is surrender. 

I don’t always want to admit it, but without God’s blueprint, resources or steady hand, the home of my heart is a wavering structure, vulnerable to the enemy, easily knocked over, susceptible to even the tiniest gust of wind. But with His mighty hand building my home on His rock? Well, there’s no place I’d rather be. 

“Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it.” (Psalm 127:1)

“A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them.” (Ezekiel 36:26-27)

This article has undergone ministry review and approval.