I learned something about brick recently.

Something I never thought possible. And for anyone who builds houses or is familiar with construction and engineering, I suppose this would be fairly obvious. But for me, it just wasn’t. That’s not the world in which I live, so I was pretty clueless.

But it makes sense now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

Brick is a facade.

And I don’t just mean that in the sense that it goes on the outside of a house.

I also mean that brick offers no structural integrity to a home.

Mind blowing. To me, anyway.

I always thought that brick houses were superior to so many other types of homes. Even insurance will give you lower premiums on fully brick homes. I think about trailers being vulnerable during tornado season, and I always thought that was because they didn’t have brick (also because they don’t have foundations and are mobile). But even houses with vinyl siding aren’t considered as “nice” or “luxurious.” I believed that brick somehow improved the stability of a building.

And from what I saw, and what the construction workers told me, that’s just not true.

Our latest home horror discovery was finding more 30-year-old termite damage in the living room wall. And then just a couple weeks ago, the construction company found that it went to the second floor right above the living room. So part of that wall also had to come down. New studs, new plates, sister joists, new window frames, new windows, new insulation, new sheet rock, new paint…

These walls had to come down, insulation had to come down – and I knew all of that – but it still shocked me when I came into the living room and saw brick. My brain didn’t really grasp what I was looking at. I’m sorry, brick goes on the outside of the house (except in cases of old brick apartment buildings in big cities, of course). I never expected to see it from the inside. At least not like this.

And my first thought was, “God, I know years ago I said I wanted a home with exposed brick walls, but I didn’t mean this!”

I had to laugh.

But then I was alarmed because – oh my gosh – there’s brick inside my house.

I looked closer, and I saw space between the brick and the studs. There were some metal pieces sticking out of the mortar, and they were attached to the studs, but otherwise, the bricks were just sort of free floating. I guess I just always thought that the bricks would attach right up to the house, adding structure and stability to the framework.

Apparently not.

I’m still floored by this revelation.

Call it ignorance, because that’s what it was. One of those IYKYK moments, and I certainly didn’t. I was today years old when…

It brings to light a truth about our lives that we so often forget. We may have beautiful brick on the outside of our spiritual home. We may have a white picket fence, well-manicured lawn with rows of garden space and flowers, and all the curb appeal to land ourselves on the cover of House Beautiful, but what’s on the inside might be eaten up by termites, paper wasps, and a squirrel nest. Not to mention the leaking window and water damage.

On a side note, we were finally able to solve the mystery of the wasps in that upstairs bedroom.

While the brick of my house was supposed to only ever be seen from the outside – and from the outside, cracks in the walls were chalked up to “cosmetic” flaws – without the sheetrock and insulation, everything was exposed. The cracks weren’t just cosmetic. Well, technically, the cracks aren’t a problem; it’s what the cracks represent. It’s what’s underneath the cracks that’s more than just cosmetic.

“The cracks are cosmetic; we had them inspected. The house is fine. Nothing to see here; don’t look too closely. Don’t pull any sheetrock or pallets off the wall to see what the house is actually made of.”

Half-truths and carefully crafted words got their house sold.

But half-truths are lies with an expiration date.
The truth will eventually come out; it always does. What is done in darkness will be exposed by the light.

The one who lies believes they’ll either never be found out, thus “getting away with it,” or when the truth is exposed, they think it will be too late for any consequences to befall them.

These half-truths and lies of omission appear to fall squarely on our shoulders. We have borne the burden (financially, mentally, and emotionally) for someone else’s poor life choices, deception, and evil.

I don’t know how to slice it any other way than to acknowledge that people make evil choices. People do it every day. This time the fallout has been ours to bear.

The amount of money it has cost us is in the tens of thousands by this point. The emotional burden has been much heavier.

We didn’t realize just how heavy that load was until the night the walls in our living room and upstairs bedroom were finally fixed. New studs, plates, joists. New windows that don’t leak. It seems this nightmare that began in March, and has lasted these past eight months, is finally over. We just paid our last invoice, and the work is done.

We were told by the construction company owner that had our joists run in the opposition direction of our house, the damage would have been much worse. And while the walls on that side of the house weren’t carrying the full weight of the roof and the rest of the structure, it was still incredibly important to fix the damage.

The walls aren’t as load bearing, but we still need them for the overall integrity of the home. No one would build mostly stable walls and then use termite-eaten or water-warped wood on the side that’s “less structural” and think, “This is fine.” No; when we build homes, we use solid, sturdy, stable materials.

The wise man built his house upon the rock. The foolish man built his house upon the sand.

How anyone could live with damage like that, know about it and cover it up for thirty years, and then sell that problem to unknowing home-buyers, so they could reap a profit and we could finance the repairs, was beyond the comprehension of both the construction company and us. As a friend recently told me, “Sometimes people suck.” She’s right.

The construction company owner told us there was no way the previous owners of our home didn’t know they had termites. The damage was so extensive in that stretch of wall, upstairs, into the basement joists and beams, and into the window frames, the owner said, “This is one of the worst concentrated areas of termite damage I’ve seen in my career. They must have been sitting in this room watching TV while termites were landing on them. They knew. And the fact that they covered it up… I don’t know how some people can live with themselves knowing what they did to you.”

I then said this: “Well, the former owner recently died. I hope he knew Jesus before he breathed his last, or else now he’s paying for his deeds on earth.“

From what I’ve been told, the sellers were “very happy” (I bet they were) that they sold us the home because they really started to go downhill afterwards. I don’t know if he started to go downhill because he was in his 80s and that’s the natural order of things, or if it had something to do with guilt weighing on his soul. Either way, he’s gone now, and wherever he ended up, that responsibility now weighs squarely on his shoulders and no one else’s.

I don’t take pleasure in that thought one bit.

We are all sinners and have fallen short of the glory of God. If it weren’t for the grace, mercy, and love of Jesus Christ, then that would be my fate, too.

My fleshly, human nature – when I’m at my worst – would seek to justify my own sinfulness in comparison to the man who sold us our house. In my human mind and self-bent rationale, I can compare and weigh my own actions and say, “I’d never do that to someone else because I’m honest,” and that would be true. I wouldn’t do that to someone else. I can’t fathom why anyone would, or could, treat others so horribly.

Whatever the motives, it was wrong. Finances, health, or age – whatever the reason, they had thirty-plus years to fix the damage, or at least be honest about the state of the house so potential buyers wouldn’t walk in blind. Had we known the truth, I can say with certainty that we wouldn’t have bought this house. It would have changed everything.

But it is what it is even if it’s not what I wanted it to be. We’re here now. Best to deal with it and try to choose a Christ-centered perspective. The alternative is to become an angry, bitter person bent on vengeance, and I doubt very much that Jesus wants my heart to become hard because of this.

Rather, the opposite. I think I need to let my heart become softer.

They lied, cheated, and stole. That was wrong.

Anyone who knew the truth and covered it up, or helped them cover it in some way, especially when they might have profited from the deception, is in the wrong.

But that doesn’t mean that I should let their sin change who I am or who God wants me to be.

It guts me to know there is evil in this world and that people suffer because of the evil actions of others.

I’m not saying that what was done to us wasn’t evil; it has been terrible and awful, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Evil is evil. We can call out evil for what it is, and we can call people to be better. But at the end of the day, I don’t get to make that call for what people choose to do. We have free will, and we can choose to do right and good, or we can choose to do wrong and evil. We have choices every day.

We all make decisions, and all decisions have consequences. Good, or bad.

Sometimes there are consequences in this life. And sometimes there are consequences in the next.

I want justice in this life. I want everything to be well. I want it all to be well with my mind, my emotions, my sense of justice. What happens when I don’t get that?

Because it’s often not up to me to decide how it shakes out. In fact, it almost never is. In this case, it certainly isn’t.

But God saw all of it. He still sees it all now.

He saw through the brick facade to what was really going on, and He eventually let it be made known to us. Our lies will find us out. The brick we put around our spiritual walls to look good to others will eventually crumble.

No matter what lies behind the brick in this life, it will all eventually be known. But all I can control is what I do with my own house. How I live my life. How I conduct myself. I will answer for that.

So this situation will have to be well with my soul.

I will have to place it in God’s hands – in the hands of the only One who truly sees beginning and end and who knows what He’s doing – and trust Him with it.

When it doesn’t make sense on this side of life, when it isn’t fair, when there don’t appear to be any consequences for the evil that’s been done, when my heart is heavy and my body is full of grief… When justice is unjust, when evil seems to have the upper hand, when I’m spent and have nothing left…

It can still be well with my soul.

How?

Because I know there is something beyond what I see. There is more to the suffering I experience. There is something that keeps me forging ahead even when I feel I can’t go on.

I have a hope within me that tells me that someday all will be made right.
Good will win.
Tears will be wiped away.
Justice will be just.
Heaven and earth will pass away.
All things will be made new.

So, while things in this life are messy, hard, grievous, and awful, and we face evil every day, faith tells me this isn’t all there is. Jesus is alive, and there will come a day when all of this will disappear.

So, even in the midst of all this pain, it can still be well with my soul, because of the hope I carry with me, because of Jesus.

It’s not always well with my heart and mind, my wants, my desires, and my wishes…

but it can be well with my soul.

“Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well with my soul.’”