Our Old Farmhouse and Making All Things New

This week marks four years since we moved into my husband’s parents’ old farmhouse. Sometimes it feels like we’ve only been here a couple of years, and other times it seems like we’ve always lived here.

There’s so much history for both of us within these walls. My husband grew up here, of course, but because we started dating when we were only sixteen years old, I spent a good part of my younger years here too.

I remember this house long before it was our house. I remember walking through these doors as a teenager. I remember meals around the table and family gatherings that filled the rooms. For decades, my late in-laws were the ones who hosted everyone here. This was the place where the family came together.

So when the house eventually became ours, we knew we wanted to preserve that. There was just one little problem. The house needed pretty much everything rebuilt.

We began a complete—and I do mean complete—renovation in the fall of 2020 that would take two years to finish. When our contractor first looked at what we were dealing with, he told us we would be better off tearing the whole thing down and building a new house.

And if you look at some of the “before” photos and video below, you might agree with him! A lot of people did. But we couldn’t do it.

We knew it would have been easier in many ways to bulldoze the house and start with a clean slate. Instead, we decided to take it all the way down to the foundation and exterior walls and rebuild from there.

We wanted to keep the footprint. We wanted to keep the history. We wanted this new home to still somehow be that old farmhouse. And I am so glad we did.

By the time the renovation was finished, even our contractor told us that he finally understood the vision we had been trying to explain from the beginning. The house was almost entirely new. But it was still home.

The footprint was here. The history was here. The memories were here. And, most importantly to us, the doors could continue to open for the family gatherings that had been happening here for generations.

Lately, I’ve been reading a​ book about heaven​ (Amazon affiliate link), and it has had me thinking a lot about something the Bible tells us will happen one day.

Revelation speaks of a new heaven and a new earth, and in Revelation 21:5, God says, “Behold, I make all things new.”

Notice those words. I make all things new. Recently, as I was thinking about that, my mind wandered to this old farmhouse.

For much of my life, I think I pictured eternity as God doing what our contractor originally suggested—tear everything down, get rid of the old, and start over somewhere completely different.

But Scripture gives us this beautiful picture of restoration. God created this world and called it good. Sin brought brokenness, pain, decay, and death into it. But that isn’t how the story ends.

God makes all things new. And suddenly I could picture it a little differently. I looked around this house and thought, maybe this is a tiny glimpse of what “made new” can mean.

This farmhouse isn’t what it used to be. The worn-out parts are gone. The things that were broken have been replaced. What needed strengthening was strengthened.

But the good wasn’t thrown away just because other parts were broken. The history is still here. The story is still here. It’s the same place—and yet it has been made new.

Obviously, our little farmhouse renovation can’t begin to compare with what God has promised. He is talking about a world where death, mourning, crying, and pain will be gone. That’s a renovation I can’t even begin to comprehend. But maybe that’s why this old house has helped me understand it just a little better.

God is a restorer. And when I think about that, I realize this promise isn’t only comforting when I think about eternity. It’s comforting right now.

Because sometimes we look at our own lives the way that contractor looked at this old house. Too much damage. Too many mistakes. Too much that needs fixing. Maybe it would be easier just to tear the whole thing down and start over.

But God has never been intimidated by what needs restoration. He sees beyond what something looks like today. He sees what it was created to be. And He sees what it can become in His hands.

Four years after moving into this farmhouse, I can sit in a room that looks almost nothing like the one I remember from all those years ago, and somehow still feel all those years around me.

The old and the new live together here beautifully. Family still walks through the doors. Children still run through the rooms. Food still covers the tables and countertops. Laughter still gets loud. We’re still gathering here. The story didn’t end. It just entered a new chapter.

And perhaps that’s what I love most about God’s promise. “Behold, I make all things new.” Not just patched up. Not merely improved. Y’all, He said New!

One day, everything sin has broken will be restored. Everything that causes pain will be gone. And God’s beautiful creation will finally be what He intended it to be.

Until then, I think I’ll look at this old farmhouse a little differently. It’s certainly not heaven. But every once in a while, it gives me a tiny glimpse of what restoration can look like. And I sure am grateful we didn’t tear it down.

Sept 4, 2026 Morning Brew