The Cracked Soul

(Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/users/_Marion-36647/)

I'm not a handyman.

When something stops working, I go and buy a replacement or I take it to someone who is more knowledgable than I am on the subject. Sometimes, my wife will be able to fix whatever it is that might be broken. Whenever we get a new piece of furniture or something that requires lots of assembly, she is the one who is most excited to put it together. I've learned to stay out of the way. And no, I feel no shame in that. My "Man Card" is still tucked away, thank you very much.

Not only am I not a handyman, but we also live in an apartment (meaning we shouldn't bother with high-level maintenance).

This apartment has been a blessing to us in a lot of ways. When we were looking for places to live in Connecticut before moving, our friend Rob would go and scope the place out and give us the thumbs-up or thumbs-down. Not every place in America is safe to live in, believe it or not. So, safety was an issue when we moved. Cost was also an issue. Most of the places we were looking at required a two-month security deposit plus the first month's rent. That's a lot of moo-lah going out in one transaction. It was also a lot of money that we didn't have.

Thankfully, the place we live in now opened up at the right time and only required a one-month security deposit. It's a comfortable living area for us and we really enjoy it. We've actually had people stay over with us! That was something that never happened when we lived in Charlottesville, except for one occurrence (thanks, Hutton).

However, there's just one problem with the apartment: the ceiling in the bathroom leaks whenever the people above us shower. Don't worry, it's not enough to do any heavy damage, but it is annoying to deal with on occasion. 

We told the property manager about it, and in a thick New England accent, she says, "Don't worry. We're going to renovate your apartment in a couple of months."

Thanks, property manager. I appreciate that. While I look forward to that, this doesn't solve problems that I have now. (I'm also the laid back guy that doesn't fret when something crazy happens. What can you do, ya know? Fuhgeddaboudit!)

The leaking ceiling provided an opportunity for me to improve upon my handyman skills. Getting some spackle from Lowe's, I climbed onto the lip of the tub and spread the paste over the cracks and began to feel a sense of pride. I'm doing it! I'm fixing a problem in the house! (And I only got to do it because my wife was too short to reach the ceiling). 

The next morning, I could hear the pipes pushing the water through to the shower above us. The moment of truth had come. At first, there was resolve. The solution had worked! There was no leaky ceiling anymore! Eureka! 

But this solution would only be temporary. In a couple of weeks, the water would push through the spackle paste and begin leaking once more.

I attempted to cover up the cracks with more of the paste, but that only provided relief for a couple of days. The leaking would continue. 

I know what the problem is and how to resolve it, but two things keep me from doing anything about it.

1) I can't barge into the neighbors' apartment upstairs and ask if I can tinker with their tub. I don't have the credentials to do that, and it would be really weird. (I'm pretty sure they have a strange creature that lives in the apartment, too. We've heard it scurry across the floor several times, but have otherwise never heard it make a sound nor have we seen it be taken outside).

2) I would need to rip out the ceiling in my own bathroom and take a look at where the water is leaking to see if what I believe to be the problem is actually the problem.

No matter how hard I try with my limitations, this problem will keep recurring. A higher authority will need to handle it.

For the longest time (and even a little to this day), I’ve had to resist the urge to fix my own problems. I only know what I see and it’s usually the evidence of something that has burrowed in my soul a little deeper. Treating the surface of a problem can only provide temporary solutions. Someone who is more knowledgeable about this line of work will have to dig a little deeper to expose what’s doing the damage.

I don’t know who or what you go to, but I turn to Jesus. Having Christian beliefs, I believe that God formed me in my mothers womb (Psalm 139:13). I believe that the claims Jesus made about himself (however hard they may be to understand logically) are true. That’s where faith comes into the process. 

God understands the heart of mankind (John 2:24-25; Acts 15:18) so it would only make sense to allow Him to check out what’s going on in my life. We can both look and identify issues of something not working just right, but only He is the one that has the greater access to get to the root of the issue and put His well-crafted skills to use.

But here’s the rub: I have to allow Him to get in there and do some sniffing around to find the problem. He may find other things that I may be too ashamed to tell Him about.

So, there’s a dilemma and I think it’s one that we all wrestle with, whether we admit it or not. It’s one of the main agents that make non-Christians less willing to allow a all-powerful, holy, righteous God into their lives. The idea of being told that we’re wrong is one that is a major turn-off for a lot of people.

Another way of putting it is we love our pride too much. Left untreated, the cracks in our soul will fracture our identity and incapacitate us.