Do you remember the show “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition”? For a while, it was one of my favorite shows. I even went through the necessary song and dance to record episodes on VHS each week to be sure I didn’t miss a single, inspiring story.
It was funny, creative, unique ...and touching. The team didn't just redecorate. They dug beneath the surface to discover the unique needs of each family and designed a new home with those people in mind. It was personal.
They kept the layout of the house familiar for a special needs child, installed a two-story gym for a family of basketball players, gave a salon to a lady who gave makeovers in her bathroom, built a secret tunnel for a little girl to be able to get to her parent's room (she was a cancer survivor...and her parent's room had always been her "safe place,"), and provided one family with a table big enough to allow them to all sit down and share dinner together. They were amazing.
The team brought healing into families’ lives by giving them a new start and a place to call their own. They set up college funds, burned mortgages, packed sheds full of toys, and filled closets with clothes and kitchens with appliances... and hearts with joy. The love that spilled out of every episode was overwhelming.
I loved it.
But in a way, the show wasn’t about a house at all.
It was about a bus.
The whole show hinges on three words. It all builds up: the team brainstorms, a community rallies, a ramshackle house is destroyed and rebuilt, and the whole time the family has been away at Disney World. But now the whole street is lined with people and there’s the family (mom and dad and their four foster kids and the three kids they adopted and the two kids they took in and their nine dogs), with Ty looking more excited than Christmas morning.
It all leads up to this moment. Those three pivotal words:
MOVE THAT BUS!
And then…the bus…moves. And when it moves, what do you see? You’ve been waiting the whole show. You see the house, right? We’re waiting for the house.
When the bus moves, you don’t see the house. When the bus moves, the cameras are stuck on the faces of the people. The bus moves and the cameras stay. And you don’t see the house. You see the tears and wonder on their faces. You see a family going crazy with disbelief and joy and gratitude and shock.
We’ve spent an hour waiting to see this house. Now the bus has moved and we still don’t see it.
Or do we? I think we do.
We see the house on their faces.
The bus has moved and the cameras stay and the family is going nuts, and just looking at them…you know it’s not a pup tent or one of those little utility houses you can get at Home Depot and put in the back yard. You know something awesome is over there.
You haven’t seen it, as it. But you’ve seen it, on them.
It got me thinking.
What do people see on my face?
I live in a world that can’t quite see Jesus or the beauty of the Gospel. But I’ve seen him. He’s awesome!
And the camera’s on me. And it's on you too.
That’s what being a believer is all about. It's knowing Jesus and letting the world see him on your face. So they can go, “You’re crazy.” …“No really, you’re completely bonkers.” …“What are you looking at?” …“Wow.”
Giving credit where credit is due: This post was enhanced by Louis Giglio's message "Let's Work It Out" delivered at Passion 2010 and included on the Passion: Awakening album. Give it a listen!