House on the Rock

I love the quote by JC Ryle that says “friendship halves our sorrows and doubles our joys.” During a time when it felt like our sorrows were quadrupling, God surrounded us with the most incredible friends, family, church family, and community to walk with us in the valley.

One of those families is none other than the Bannons — long-time family friends who have been by our side through some high highs and low lows over the past 15 years. In God’s providence, Jeff was sitting by my dad’s side one day at the Lafayette hospital where Mom was was slowly waking up from a stroke and several silent seizures. This is back in late September — before transporting her to Indy, before giving her a week to live, before making the arrangements for hospice care.

A physical therapist walked in that afternoon with an occupational therapist in tow. Considering Mom’s state at that time, they had some questions for my dad. “Do you have a ramp to get into your house?”

Dad shook his head. “No.” 

“Do you have a handicap-accessible shower?”
“No.”

“What about hardwood floors to move a wheelchair through the house?”
“Nope,” Dad sighed. “We don’t have that either.”

It seemed as though we had the least handicap-accessible house of all time. If Mom even lived long enough to make it home, she certainly wouldn’t be able to get around the house very well. It would take an entire army to get her hospice bed up the front porch stairs, let alone through narrow door frames and across patterned carpet. That is, until Jeff Bannon started making some phone calls. 

Let me take a brief pause here to shamelessly plug church membership. We live in an increasingly commitment-averse culture, and yet I cannot think of a sweeter community to call home than the local church body. It was absolutely incredible to see multiple church bodies jump into action here — beautifully reinforcing that the local church is God’s plan A for ministering to a hurting world. More on that later.

So back to the Bannons: I believe that grim hospital conversation happened on a Tuesday. Wednesday morning, Jeff met with a group of guys, known as the Barn Bros, who have been meeting together for nearly a decade to study the Word and sharpen each other. This band of brothers usually includes my dad, who had been necessarily absent while taking care of Mom. Jeff posed an idea to the group: “Can you meet at the Saunders’ house after work? We’ve got some renovations to do.”

Unbeknownst to us, people began showing up to my parents’ house in droves. The entire driveway was full of vehicles, and in less than two hours, the carpet had been completely ripped out. Doors were being widened to fit a hospice bed and wheelchair. Paint was being purchased, floor plans being laid. A Crawfordsville version of Extreme Home Makeover was powerfully afoot. And that was only day 1.

In the days to follow, teams had come in to construct a handicap shower, sliding doors, hardwood floors, a massive ramp, new gravel in the driveway, and a wide open living room space so she could be moved from one room to the next. They even redecorated, landscaped, and purchased new pillows and comforters.

We don’t even know all of the people who poured their time, energy, effort, and money into this makeover. They worked quickly and quietly, not once seeking their own recognition or glory. I remember hearing that the final bathroom installments were going to cost several thousand dollars. One night, while we were at the hospital, Jeff Bannon stepped into the hallway to take a phone call. When he came back in, he grinned: “Someone just donated the bathroom.”

The generosity was overwhelming. We were truly blown away by the love and support of our community. Another mini-mercy in the middle of such massive grief. God so kindly put a multitude of servants to be the hands and feet of Jesus in our midst. In the same way Jesus prepares a place for His children in Heaven, we got an earthly picture of that glorious reality through the sacrificial love of our friends.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for his friends.” John 15:13

Gospel-themed love was on display for all to see: when we were brought lower than low, people sacrificed greatly to prepare a home for broken people. Jesus, in the very same way, found us when we were at our lowest — broken by sin, rendered completely incapable of saving ourselves. He sacrificed greatly — His very life — to prepare a home for broken sinners. Once we were His enemies, now we’re seated at His table. 

In God’s providence, Mom would get to come to this home. She got to taste that gospel-flavored glimpse of sacrificial homemaking. Soon, she was going to taste it in all its fullness as she entered into the presence of her Savior. The home our friends sacrificed to create for us was beautiful, but what makes it all the more captivating is the reminder of what Jesus sacrificed to one day bring us home with Him.

This future hope is what kept Mom joyful, and it’s what keeps us going when grief threatens to flatten us. I hope that you who are hurting would let the sacrifice of Jesus lift your broken, sinful self. Dwell with Him, surrender completely, and cling to the hope that your forever home can be in the presence of the One who died to bring you there.