Unfettered Faith

Six years ago, a wrecking ball came through my life and demolished everything I was. In its wake, there was nothing but rubble and destruction. Before I could even clear the dust from my eyes, I was left standing alone with a couple tools, some mortar, and a whispered ‘good luck’. 

I began sorting through the debris and salvaging what I could to be reused for my new life. I had no time to mourn. Life would not pause for me to lament. So I searched for pieces that could fit together, but often had to think outside the box on how to join one broken brick to the next. There was no instruction manual. I had no guidelines or experience to help me. It was a slow moving project.  Some walls crumbled before they could be finished. Others had to be torn down entirely and rebuilt. More often than not, I felt as though I would never find the right blueprint. The task seemed too daunting; the setbacks too disheartening. 

Over the years, there were plenty of people who joined in to help me rebuild. Some only came to offer guidance or criticism. Others helped rebuild entire rooms. And some ended up tearing down parts of what had been built, blessings in the disguise of destruction. Each person, for better or worse, left their name subtly etched into the walls. A reminder of their part in my renovation. 

Eventually, I rebuilt myself into a seemingly sound structure. I had all the features that I thought I needed to be whole and successful. I took painstaking time with the foundation and supports so that when another disaster came along, there wouldn’t be complete destruction again. My framework was stable and even if I lost a wall or two, I could easily rebuild them. Or so I thought. 

Small storms came and went, and after each one I still stood. A little disheveled, but still intact. Arrogantly believing myself to be invulnerable to another catastrophe. What I didn’t realize was that while I had completed the construction, there were flaws in the very foundation of it. Walls that were dependent on positive opinions. Support beams that relied on acceptance. Doors and windows that were circumstantial. Electricity powered by comparison. So when that next calamity rolled through my life, I was crippled in ways I believed myself impervious to. Torn down to the very rubble I swore I’d never find myself in again. 

Sitting amongst the all too familiar ruins of my life, I allowed myself to well and truly fall apart. To scream and throw things. To feel the pain of loss and the despair of abandonment. To cry until I had no voice left to ask “why?” The devastation and heartbreak were debilitating. But they also opened a door which let in just the tiniest hint of light. So small, it could easily be missed.

As I surveyed the previous blueprint I’d used to build myself, that light allowed me to see more clearly where I’d gone wrong. The quick fixes that had been taped into place. The substandard materials. The corners that had been cut. The unbalanced focus between aesthetic and resilience. But perhaps more important than any of those things… I saw that I had been pulling my plans from the wrong carpenter. 

I realized that if I wanted to build a lasting defense to the disasters of the world, I would need more than a strong will and determination. I would need faith. I would need the support of a power greater than anything in this world. I would need to learn that my value is not negotiable. That no amount of rejection or acceptance would ever change it. I had to accept that rebuilding something worthy takes time and cannot be rushed. That every brick laid and nail hammered serves a purpose. That others could help with the heavy lifting, but I had to be judicious in who I gave access to. And that my experiences, and failures, would give me the tools to help others rebuild their own foundations. 

I’m not done building. Maybe I never will be. I think that is how it is supposed to be. I mean, is there such a thing as ‘enough’ faith? Or is there always room for more? I am building my house for me. It is unique to my strengths and weaknesses. It bears the marks of my failures and my triumphs. It is, and always will be, protected. It will stand as a shining beacon of what the love of God can accomplish.