Under Construction...

For the past several months my team and I have been living in the middle of a construction site. Our campus is currently undergoing major renovation and being transformed into a high school. I jokingly (because well sometimes I would be lying if I said I didn't get angry with it) describe it as the scene from the movie Up. The one where his house is quaintly sitting in the middle of a a massive high rise construction site. Thats kind of what my apartment is currently situated, except maybe P!xar made it look a little more fairytale like than it is. So imagine a little less green grass and a lot more mud and some concrete and a few foreigners and few dozen Chinese construction men and its pretty much same same but different; but this isn't a post mainly about the construction, the mess, the noise or the mud or at least not the physical construction that the taxi driver sees and looks bewildered at when I exit the cab. Because while there are construction men that show up every morning, to knock down buildings, poor cement and lay tiles; there is another Man who shows up every moment to shape the clay of my heart into His. The construction going on on the inside is at times just as messy, muddy, and requires some major, scary looking machinery.  

This past week while tracking threw the mud, I've found myself thinking on more than one occasion that construction is messy. Currently our campus looks nothing like it will come next August. The blue prints lay out a GORGEOUS high school, currently it looks um... less than gorgeous. Unfortunately (because trust me I so wish I did and want to) I don't have a set of blue prints for who the Master Carpenter is constructing. What I do know is that He has those plans, and I am suppose to be willing even when it doesn't feel like what I want because ultimately His blue prints are much better than the ones I would draw. Piles of dirt and yuckiness are being moved out of the zone to make way for new seeds to be planted that will produce the beauty of His hands. Where dirt, mud, and rocks once laid will eventually be tilled, dug, and at times back hoed for beautiful trees bearing much fruit to line the walkway. 

Truths, like concrete, have to be tested and poured liberally to build foundations that don't move. Foundations that tall high rises can sit on and be held firmly in the ground with. Old foundations, that no longer serve a purpose from an old identity for buildings that no longer have a purpose have to be busted and jack hammered out to allow new truth to fill in the cracks and completely replace it where necessary. Broken pieces, rocks, and other miscellaneous things that have found their way into me over the past 23 years have to be thrown out, removed and repositioned. 

Insecurities, like old, foggy, dirty windows, are no longer able to be able to simply be washed or ignored and to blur sight when they get dirty again. Instead a hammer is used to knock them out, leaving jagged edges of hurt and mess that need to be cleaned up before new windows that allow you to see as a loving Father sees us despite our messy construction site that still has lots of yuck on the inside of it. 

The construction workers who say hello and want me to respond. The ones who stare noticing the differences between us. Two people both created in One image, but separated by distance, language, culture and so much more. The fact that our paths ever crossed, is no small feat in and of itself; one that wouldn't have happened if not orchestrated by the One who holds all things in the palm of his hands. Our simple glances, smiles, and the occasional word lessening the gap between us. While the Carpenter is growing, stretching and striping me of me to be more like Himself. Just as I don't always understand what the construction worker is asking, as my ears struggle to comprehend a language that isn't my native tongue. I don't always understand what He is doing; its hard, confusing, challenging and at times I haven't understood and doubted everything would eventually lead to a beautifully fulfilled blue print. The conversation doesn't go how I wanted or envisioned it, because I don't understand all His ways and how they are best even when they don't feel best or not how I would have chosen them to be.  

Routes of comfortability and an easier trek to home are constantly changing; they built a new gate in the back, it worked great for a few weeks to avoid the mess and get to a place of relief quickly. Then the gate closes early and has to be climbed over, they put a fence around the track and just when you thought you had figured something out that worked now a new path to the apartment has to be found. Flexibility and a willingness to learn and adjust have to be found. The new path is filled with its new dirt, new mud, new obstacles, and concrete and windows and more mess. 

Living in the middle of a construction site is hard, things get scraped up, busted, broken, caked in mud, and lots of yuck shows that was once nicely hidden. My shoes show the proof of living in a physical construction zone. My heart bears the proof of living in one that is less visible.