On Getting the American Dream

We bought a house. We moved in last week.

I chose not to tell you the details as they were emerging, mostly because we had already had our hopes dashed before and because there were many times in the process when we weren’t sure it would go through. But it did, and here we are.

It feels kind of like a small miracle. The housing market is crazy right now, at least it is in our area. Our realtor told us that houses were selling in a day, usually for over the asking price. So when we got our loan pre-approved in January, we started looking right away, figuring it would take awhile before we found something that worked for our budget. This was the first house we looked at. We saw it a day after it went on the market, and we put in an offer the day after that. Since we had several months to think about where we wanted to live and what kind of house we were looking for, we knew that this one checked all the boxes. 

We didn’t think we would get it, but we did. There were multiple offers, and we weren’t the highest offer, but for some reason the seller decided to invite us to meet the higher offer anyway. I have no idea why, other than God’s kindness.

This house is 1700 square feet with four bedrooms, which was the only four-bedroom house I saw that was available in our price range. It is far nicer and bigger than I ever thought we would be able to afford. (After all, this is California!) This is partly because we were very willing to live in an “undesirable” area. (Josiah saw the pawn shop on the corner and asked, “Is this the ghetto???”) So when we tell people that we are living in this area, we get raised eyebrows and an awkward, Oh, like they are tempted to say, Didn’t someone tell you not to live there? Which, yes, someone did tell us that. But seriously? People gave us weirder looks when we said we were moving to Africa, so I guess you could say that we are used to it.

And for heaven’s sake, it’s not the ghetto. It’s a lovely neighborhood full of families and speed bumps in the streets and a community park and pool. A neighbor with a middle-eastern name introduced herself to me, and I saw an Ethiopian grandmother taking a walk. Yesterday our neighbor from across the street brought us flowers and cookies. She is African-American, and I just about cried. Over a year ago, when we started looking at cities to live in, I asked God to bring us somewhere with ethnic diversity, because that’s where our family is comfortable. How kind of my God to honor that request.

It honestly could not be more perfect. And I sit here and I marvel at the grace of God. There was nothing that we did to deserve this house. We bought a new dishwasher last week, and even though we bought it at an outlet so it was a floor model and dented and discounted, I couldn’t help but think about how that dishwasher cost about half of the yearly wages of some friends I know. Owning this house feels like a luxury beyond what I ever dreamed possible. 

So as marvelous as this is, Gil and I have found ourselves struggling with it. For our entire 20-year marriage–all of our adult lives–we have intentionally turned our backs on the American Dream. We have made the conscious decision to deny ourselves that which many people consider an expectation. And as Jesus promised, in losing our life, we found it. Though the longing for stability and security and upward mobility were sometimes there, we never, ever regretted what we gave up. What we gained in faith and perspective and the fruit of ministry filled us up beyond anything we could hope for or imagine. 

To suddenly be granted this symbol of American prosperity makes us conflicted. Yes, it feels absolutely wonderful to live in such a beautiful place and to make it our own, but I also wonder what we will miss out on by living the American Dream. 

Knowing that the Israelites would soon enter the Promised Land, Moses gave them this warning:

And when the Lord your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers…with great and good cities that you did not build, and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant—and when you eat and are full, then take care lest you forget the Lord, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. It is the Lord your God you shall fear. Him you shall serve and by his name you shall swear.

Moses knew that there is something about getting everything we want that causes us to forget about God. Life can become so comfortable that no longer do we live in desperate dependence on Him. And looking at Israel’s wretched history, that’s exactly what happened.

As much as I am enjoying this incredible gift, it also puts fear in me. Never do I want to focus so much on the gift that I forget the Giver. Never do I want to forget that this home is about building His kingdom, not about building my own.

So I am intentionally thinking about how I can use this home for His kingdom. I bought a Keurig and set up a coffee bar, even though we don’t drink coffee. I picked up eight folding chairs at an estate sale. My dining room table (which I bought used and my dad beautifully refinished) can seat twelve. Grace’s bedroom has a queen bed, so that it can easily become a guest room. I want this house to have a revolving door of visitors. I sit in my light-filled living room and pray, God, let someone from this neighborhood be introduced to you for the first time, right here on this couch. 

I asked Grace to letter some large signs for the walls. One says, “The Best is Yet to Come” and the other one says “Not Home Yet.” As much as we love this house, it will never be our home. May we never, ever forget.