Yesterday was my day off, and I spent a good part of it power washing our house. I got about half of it done. And honestly, I couldn’t believe how dirty it had become by just… sitting there.

When we bought the house in 2019, it was in showcase condition. The appliances had been recently replaced, the paint was touched up nicely, and the lawn and flowerbeds looked like they’d been professionally maintained. The house had likely had been power washed before even going on the market. It was a little intimidating, really; almost too perfect.  I like a house that’s a little more “lived” in. But I appreciated how meticulous the previous owner had been. Everything was dialed in—ready to impress.

And for the most part, we’ve just enjoyed living in it. Maintenance has been minimal. It’s been easy to assume things were still… fine.

But seven years in, little things are starting to show. I’ve begun to do some needed interior painting, replaced a dishwasher, and swapped out an extra refrigerator that came with the house. Normal stuff.

Then this winter, Pam and I started to notice the north-facing side of the house—the back side that doesn’t get much sun until late in the day.

Dirt. Grime. Streaking. Black and even green buildup—algae, I think. Because of the grade, it’s a good 30 feet up to the eaves, and part of the siding is hidden behind a large evergreen, so it’s not exactly obvious. But once we saw it, we couldn’t unsee it. We decided it needed to be addressed in the spring.

So yesterday I borrowed a 24-foot extension ladder from the church and went at it.

I’ll admit, I’m not as comfortable on a ladder as I used to be. Every once in a while Pam would come out and silently look up at me with a slightly worried expression. But I was all in.

I wasn’t prepared for just how filthy the siding really was. I wish I had taken a before-and-after picture—the difference is remarkable. It went from dull and streaked to fresh and clean… but not without a lot of effort. Some of that grime was baked on after years of wet winters and hot summer sun.

But what struck me even more was how long it took me to notice.

In reality, this should have been done years ago. The buildup didn’t happen overnight. And it didn’t get my attention overnight either.

It had been there for a long time—but I hadn’t really noticed it. At least, not enough to do anything about it. I could have prevented it with a more consistent maintenance plan.

That thought stayed with me into Tuesday morning when I sat down at my desk, opened my Bible, and landed in Psalm 101.

It’s a short psalm where David lays out what feels like a spiritual maintenance plan. He decides in advance what he’ll allow into his life—what and who will or won’t have a place in his spiritual “house”.  Here are just a few examples:

“I will not look with approval on anything that is vile…”
“I will have nothing to do with what is evil; I will be careful to lead a blameless life…”
“Whoever has haughty eyes and a proud heart—I will not tolerate…”
“No one who practices deceit will dwell in my house…”

He’s not cleaning up negative influences and behaviors after the fact—he’s keeping them from building up in the first place.

And that’s the connection.

When followers of Jesus shipwreck their faith, it’s never a sudden collapse, although it may appear that way. It’s the slow accumulation of what they’ve allowed to accumulate. In a fallen world, things left unattended rarely drift in a healthy direction.

Because most of the time, sin and distractions don’t announce themselves. They build up, more like that side of the house—out of view, not getting much light, slowly collecting debris that doesn’t belong.

“We must pay the most careful attention… so that we do not drift away” (Hebrews 2:1).

So, what are you allowing to build up in your life; what are you repeatedly exposing yourself to? What’s coming in contact with your spiritual house and getting baked on?  What we consistently look at, listen to, and dwell on doesn’t just pass through. It stays. It accumulates and shapes us.

David understood that so he made decisions ahead of time:

“I will set before my eyes no vile thing…”

He knew from hard experience that attention isn’t neutral. It forms us.

That’s the invitation. To notice sooner. To pay attention. To deal with what’s building up before it gets baked on.

I wish I had noticed the house sooner. It would have been easier. Less work. Less buildup.

Same is true of the soul. So maybe today is a good day to take a closer look. What’s been quietly building? What have you stopped noticing?

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23).

I still have half a house to power wash… but I’ve learned something. It’s a lot easier to deal with what’s building up when you’re paying attention.