When the Air Conditioning Breaks

I came home from vacation ready for that glorious feeling we all know and love.

Vacation was wonderful, and the memories created there are ones I'll treasure for years to come. But after several days away, if you're anything like me, you're ready for your own bed, your own pillow, and especially your own coffee maker.

I learned recently from a friend that the coffeemaker in the hotel room is apparently off-limits, so needless to say, my morning gas station coffee was getting pretty old.

There's just something sweet about coming home. I think that's why Dorothy became iconic when she taught us all that there really is "no place like home."

After several days away relaxing with my extended family and an 8+ hour drive home, I can honestly say all 6 of us were all looking forward to walking through the front door, unpacking our bags, and settling back into normal life.

…Except everything changed the moment we walked in the door because when we did we immediately stopped in our tracks as we were met with a wall of unimaginable heat.

It wasn't just a little warm inside our house. It wasn't "someone left a window open" warm. It was the kind of heat that immediately makes you question every life choice that brought you to this moment and causes you to seriously consider getting right back into the car, driving eight hours to Orlando, and returning to the dreamy vacation spot you just left.

It wasn’t long before we discovered our air conditioner had completely stopped working while we were gone.

Suddenly nobody cared about the "souvenirs" we'd brought home from the convention. (By souvenirs, I mean stress balls, pens, highlighters, and every other free giveaway we could fit into a tote bag.) Nobody was talking about our sweet vacation memories or laughing about things that happened during the trip.

No…We were all standing around the thermostat like it was a patient in critical condition.  All four of our kids had opinions about which buttons should be pushed, Steve was checking vents and changing filters like he was competing a challenge on ‘The Amazing Race’, and I was frantically scrolling through my phone trying to remember the name of the A/C repairman we'd used three or four years ago.

At one point, I think we all just stood there staring at the thermostat as if our collective disappointment might somehow fix it.

It didn't.

It wasn't long before my teenagers had texted friends and found reasons to escape the house and our twins had parked themselves in front of a fan in our basement, because at that point our basement was the only ‘somewhat cool’ in our house.

As I sat there sweating in our family room and waiting for the repair company to call me back, I found myself thinking about how much hope I had placed in coming home.

It wasn’t consciously of course, but somewhere along the way I had convinced myself that once I got home, everything would feel right again.

I had plans for the laundry to get done, the suitcases to be unpacked, and as we drove home I just knew it wouldn’t take long before life would settle back into normal and I could finally relax.

Just being honest here... I think I actually do that a lot…

I don’t like to say it out loud, but the truth is that I’m constantly attaching my hopes to the next thing. The next season, the next vacation, the next promotion. Maybe it’s the next house, the next milestone, the next answer to prayer.

And I think maybe you do that, too?

We all have a tendency to convince ourselves, "When I get there, or attain that, then I'll feel settled." But then we get there... something breaks.

Maybe it's not your air conditioner…maybe it's a plan you had, or a relationship you were holding onto. Maybe it’s an expectation for the future or a dream that didn't turn out the way you imagined. Maybe it's simply the realization that what you thought would satisfy you isn't quite as fulfilling like you hoped.

That's exactly where the writer of Psalm 73 found himself. Earlier in the chapter, he's wrestling with disappointment, confusion, and comparison. He's looking around at people who seem to have everything he wants and wondering why life isn't working out the way he thought it should.  By verse 21 he even goes as far as to admit his heart had become bitter….

(I love parts of the bible that showcase the same realness I often feel.) 

But then he turns it because by the end of the psalm, he arrives at this beautiful conclusion: "Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you." (v. 25)

At first glance when I read that, it honestly sounds a bit dramatic. Really, Asaph? You desire nothing else? Not coffee? Not air conditioning? Not vacations? Not a sugar-free Georgia Peach Fizz from 7 Brew?

(If you've never had one during the Georgia summer heat, that may be the only thing you remember from this devotional.)

But let’s just be real here…. surely there are a few exceptions.

But that’s why digging in a little deeper to scripture is so important.  Asaph isn't saying earthly things aren't good. He's saying they aren't ultimate.

They're gifts…really awesome, wonderful gifts…but we have to keep in mind that these precious gifts make terrible foundations.

Why?  Because every gift eventually disappoints us. Every comfort eventually fades. Every earthly thing has limits.

Think about it.  The vacation always has to end. The kids grow up. The ‘perfect house’ eventually needs repairs. The air conditioner breaks.

But God remains.

That's why the next verse Asaph writes is especially important to me: “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." (v. 26)

God, in His kindness, has a way of gently reminding me that none of those other things were ever meant to carry the weight of my soul…. even though I sometimes act like it.

Only He can do that.  Only HE can be my ‘portion’ that lasts forever.

The repairman is here this morning, and Lord willing, the house will be cool again very soon, but I'm hoping this lesson stays in my heart long after the temperature drops in my home, because while I was worried about the condition of my house God was reminding me about the condition of my heart.

The things I enjoy are gifts…. but the Giver is better.

The blessings are wonderful… but they were never meant to replace the One who blesses.

Maybe the air conditioner failing, and the frustrations I trip over every day, are reminders of where my hope really belongs, and where I should be putting my trust.

Because when everything else is stripped away, I want the words of Psalm 73 to still stand true for me: "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." (v. 26)

Because I know that unlike an air conditioner in a Georgia summer, He never stops working.