Hidden Rot
💥 THE BRIEFING
Sundays are supposed to be for rest.
In the weeks ahead we my wife has major renovations planned.
Last Sunday I had planned to fill a few simple nail holes. I wanted to get a small task out of the way to prepare for the larger project of priming and painting, a task that has recently taken full control of my honey-do-list.
The plan was simple, inspect the walls, remove old nails, and apply a little drywall mud. Let it dry, and then over the next few days I would sand, add a little texture spray and the walls would be fully prepped for painting by the weekend.
Simple chore. Shouldn’t have been a big deal.
But then, as I scanned the wall in what is to become our new master bedroom something felt off. Everything looked normal except for a single outlet. One of those ones in older homes when landlines were still a thing.
Right along the edge of the outlet there was just a thin sheen of black, like a smoker with a tiny bit of discoloration on their nails. Subtle.
Curious, I pressed my foot gently against the drywall to the left.
I chose that spot as the baseboard was slightly separated from the drywall. Again, nothing crazy, its been 10 years since the last renovation in this house.
I like to think I’m strong but I’ve been skipping leg day for months, and yet still my foot sank right through the wall.
I’m talking wet cardboard consistency.
The drywall crumbled effortlessly, revealing wet, soggy insulation, and wooden studs so water-logged that it smelled like fresh rain after a storm.
Ironically, two nights before, I had texted an old college buddy and asked if his family wanted to come over after church so our kids could swim, and so I had the excuse to get a Costco pizza.
Wouldn’t you know that old friend is a residential contractor? How convenient. Thats God’s Comedic Timing at work.
“That’s water damage,” he said. Solid detective work. (Kidding, thank you buddy)
Quick knock over here, quick knock over there, and found ourselves outside looking as some thin cracks between two blocks in the wall. His diagnoses? When the fence was installed years ago, or when the new windows went in, the crack formed.
Now every time the sprinklers hit it, or rain was blown against the house - drip, drip, drip - into the block. Not a flood. Not a deluge of water, but a solid, although likely sporadic, drip.
Once our friends had left, I made the trip to Home Depot for some supplies, donned a mask, and got to cutting. I started the cut in the corner, and like a surgeon stopped when I got good margins.
Isolated incident this time, praise God.
All jokes aside, the problem could’ve been much worse, no structural damage, no rampant mold. In theory I should be able to replace a few sections of insulation, replace one piece of 2x4 (for own peace of mind,) couple small pieces of new drywall and should be back in business.
Only a minor delay in the grand scheme of turning this house into our new home.
Albeit, this side quest took my entire Sunday afternoon, and what will be manly nights moving forward putting it all back together, but it did put me in a mood and mindset I didn’t want to be in, but again it could’ve been far worse.
Standing amidst the mess, I couldn’t shake how this felt uncomfortably familiar though. Not the drywall disaster itself, but the silent rot, hidden beneath layers of fresh paint. It felt exactly like our lives sometimes, at least for me.
We paint over the cracks in our hearts, projecting strength and stability. But beneath the surface, silent decay sets in. The damage accumulates slowly, quietly, unnoticed until something, or someone, pushes just hard enough to reveal what's hidden. Or in extreme situation, like my ridiculously strong quads, breaks through like the kool-aid man.
So what’s a Dad to do?
Find the cracks. Now, not later.
Identify and isolate the cracks in your life where all the “crap” is making its way into your life.
Repeat the following in all areas that need a good renovation:
Seal it up (stop the inflow)
Dissect the rotten stuff (change the habit)
Let it air out (confession)
Replace the rotten stuff (fill it with Godly habits)
Replace the drywall (become new)
Real change comes with humility. With the Holy Spirit working overtime in the dark corners of your life that no one sees but Him.
🎙️ THE CORNER TALK
In Matthew 23:27, Jesus didn’t mince words when confronting the Pharisees:
"Woe to you... you are like whitewashed tombs, beautiful outside but filled with bones of the dead and everything unclean."
The word “whitewashed” here is the Greek word koniortos. This wasn’t just a fresh coat of paint. It meant coating something in lime, making it appear pure. Putting in effort to make it appear pristine, yet underneath, death and decay.
🥊 THE FIGHT PLAN
It’s inspection week for your heart. Your challenge is straightforward, but it’s going to suck if done right:
Each morning, spend five intentional minutes praying Psalm 139:23-24:
“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
Why do this? Because spiritual rot thrives best in darkness. It multiplies when hidden. But exposure, uncomfortable as it is, is the first step toward healing.
Don't rush through this. Sit with it. Let God press against your heart, gently revealing cracks before they become cavernous.
🤝 THE HUDDLE
Brothers, hidden rot isolates. It whispers lies of shame, telling us to give it the landlord special and paint over it, to hide it from view. Don’t listen.
If this hits home, reply with a simple “pray for me.”
You're not alone. And if you know another dad quietly painting over pain, forward this to him with the same reminder.
You were never meant to simply cover cracks.
And if you need restoration work, I happen to know a Carpenter from Nazareth who knows exactly how to restore what's broken beneath the surface.