The first time I saw the neon green chair (it might not be neon; I’m colorblind, so cut me some slack) in our living room, I was like, okay … this thing isn’t the most attractive piece of furniture I’ve ever seen, but it was free, so, there’s that.
I attended a charity function maybe six weeks prior and a buddy won the chair in a raffle. Brand new, and still in the box, he had no idea what it looked like. In fact, he’d already left before he won it. So, I inherited it.
My wife and I are getting close to opening all the boxes (we got married in May). She’s doing an amazing job of making the apartment feel like home. I got home one day, and she’d pulled the office chair out of the box and set it up.
It wasn’t hideous, so I didn’t lose any sleep over it either way. I’ve been single most of my life, so I’m accustomed to furniture that doesn’t match. I’m not even sure my clothes match most of the time, but that’s a story for another day. But each time I walked past the chair, it got uglier.
Maybe uglier isn’t the right word. Maybe brighter would be better. And since the rest of our apartment is pretty dark, it really stands out. To paint a word picture, it’s as if the 1980s rock band Poison (who seems to love their neon green color scheme) played a concert in a cave. The contrast is striking.
Other than the color, though, it’s a good chair. It’s comfortable and sturdy.
And now, it’s covered with a flowery cloth of some sort.
While the chair has felt out of place at times, it’s also a good reminder that imperfections belong in our homes and lives. Grace shows up in mismatched, messy realities.
That reminds me of a bookshelf I made in high school woodshop. If you know anything about me, you know working with my hands is not my strong suit. The shelves aren’t quite far enough apart to fit some of our bigger books, so Clarissa has stacked books (widthwise) on the shelves instead. The shelf contains other imperfections too, but it’s stood the test of time, and it’s served a purpose.
Neither piece would win a design contest, but both have quietly done what they were made to do. And maybe that’s the bigger lesson. Life isn’t about polished appearances but about steady faithfulness, even when the fit isn’t perfect.
Looking at that chair and bookshelf reminds me of how God sees us. We may feel too bright, too plain, too big or too small, or not built quite right, but in His hands, we’re useful, and by His grace we belong. Imperfect, yes. But never without value.
