Jesus
moved into the house
I barely cleaned.
He started in the living room—
gentle with my excuses,
quietly moving the clutter
that I’d convinced myself
was furniture.
He opened the doors
I’d kept sealed for years.
Even the one I’d labelled
Do Not Enter: Shame Inside.
And he did not flinch.
This house—
my life—
is under renovation.
Room by room.
Corner by corner.
No part off-limits.
He is not just redecorating.
He is remaking me
in his image.
I used to think holiness
meant ticking boxes—
no shellfish,
no tattoos,
no weird clothes.
But holiness is
his reflection
shining in
every room of my life.
Leviticus 18–20—
the chapters we skip—
spill over with the ache
of a holy God
longing for a holy people.
A people who
care for the poor,
tell the truth,
don’t take what isn’t theirs,
respect the elderly,
welcome the stranger,
love their neighbour.
A people who
say no
to the patterns of Egypt
and the cravings of Canaan.
Not because we are better,
but because we are his.
“I am the Lord your God.”
He repeats it
like a father teaching
a child to walk—
not a dictator’s demand
but a covenant’s embrace.
I once thought the way to grow the church
was to prove we weren’t weird.
Now I think maybe
we’ve forgotten how to be different.
Holiness is not a vibe—
it’s resistance.
Like swimming against the current
in a sea of drift.
To forgive when everyone says cancel.
To keep a marriage promise
when the world says upgrade.
To give away
what you could use
to make your life more comfortable.
It’s weird.
But the right kind of weird.
He didn’t say
clean up before you come.
He said
come as you are.
But he never said
stay as you are.
He has moved in
and he’s not leaving.
Even the walls I painted with pride
he is stripping back
to the grain of grace.
Be holy,
he says—
because I am.
Because I am yours
and you are mine. Lord,
make your way
more beautiful to me
than all the world’s shine.
Make my life
your home.
Make me
like you.
Original message by Andrew West, The Bridge Church Macquarie Park NSW
15 June 2025
The Afterword 
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