"I'm Fixing a Hole. . . "

I haven't been blogging recently because we've been busy at the homestead with a big home improvement project. We found out that we had no insulation in the walls, which is why our AC was running constantly. To fix the problem, we had a company come blow insulation into the walls. To do so, they had to drill holes every 16 inches in order to get insulation around the studs. That means they had to drill a lot of holes.

144 holes to be exact. A gross of holes.

So we've been spackling holes, sanding, and touching-up the paint. And while doing all this, I thought about a definition of sin I was taught in Catholic school: sin is like a nail being driven into your soul. When you confess your sins, a little hole is left, which you have to do penance for in order to fill it. The smaller the sin, the smaller the hole, and vice versa. A mortal sin like murder leaves a big enough hole that your soul threatens to break. Or so the metaphor extends on and on . . .

I'm thinking about this while my wife and I are filling all these holes. Is that what God spends most of his time doing up in Heaven? Concerning himself with the holes people have in their souls, and whether they have filled them properly? Is God like a housing inspector? A soul inspector?

I don't know.

I do believe that sin damages our souls, but not because it makes our souls look like Swiss cheese. I prefer the other metaphor we were taught in school: that sin causes a separation from God. And that asking God for forgiveness brings us back to Him. No filling needed.

Now if I could only say the same for our house.