Under Construction

For the last couple of years, we've been slowly renovating our house. We've removed walls, fixed plumbing, painted, patched, rebuilt, and tackled all the other little projects that somehow appear between “Let's just fix this one thing” and “What did we get ourselves into?”

We've completed a lot of projects. We've also started a lot of projects. Those are not necessarily the same thing.

Some rooms look completely different than they did a few years ago. Others are somewhere in that wonderful stage where the project is technically in progress, even though nobody has actually touched it in several months. Apparently renovations can have seasons of waiting too.

Through all of it, I've learned something: construction almost always makes things look worse before they look better.

There's a reason demolition gets all the attention. It's the part everybody wants to do. Hand someone a sledgehammer and suddenly they think they're on HGTV. And for a while, it actually is fun.

But when the last piece of drywall comes down, the excitement wears off pretty quickly. You're standing there tired, sore, covered in dust, with a few cuts and bruises you don't remember getting. What used to be a finished room is now a pile of debris, exposed studs, dangling wires, and plumbing.

You look around at what you've accomplished—and somehow the room looks considerably worse than when you started.

That's the strange thing about renovation. Sometimes the first visible sign of progress looks a lot like destruction.

And then you see what's inside the walls.

Suddenly, things that have been hidden for years are completely exposed—and sometimes that's even scarier than the demolition. Old plumbing. Questionable wiring. Water damage you didn't know existed. Repairs that make you stare for a minute and wonder, How did they even get that in there?

And, perhaps more importantly, Why?

The wall didn't create the problem. Taking it down simply revealed what had been hidden behind it.

I've learned that God sometimes works in us the same way. What feels messy and uncomfortable may actually be exposing something that has been there for a long time—and now that we can finally see it, He can begin dealing with it.

Some things He's already changed. Some things He's working on right now. And there are probably a few projects we don't even know are on the list yet.

We're under construction too.

Sometimes the Wall Has to Come Down

When we ask God to change us, I think most of us are imagining paint. Lord, give me more patience. Fresh coat. Help me become a better husband, wife, parent, or friend. Maybe some new trim. Help me trust You more. Let's brighten this place up a little.

We want improvement. We'd just prefer God make the improvements without disrupting anything.

But sometimes the problem isn't the paint. Sometimes there's something underneath it: pride, fear, bitterness, control, self-reliance, or an old wound we've learned to work around instead of actually dealing with.

Those things can stay hidden for years. From the outside, everything may even look pretty good. Then God starts opening the wall.

We want God to renovate our lives without making a mess. But sometimes reconstruction requires demolition first.

Demolition Leaves You Sore

Real change can hurt too. Forgiveness sounds beautiful until there's actually someone to forgive. Patience sounds admirable until you're forced to wait. Trusting God sounds wonderful until you don't know what's going to happen next. Humility sounds very Christian until somebody points out that you might be wrong.

James writes that “the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (James 1:3).

We like perseverance. We're considerably less enthusiastic about the testing.

But spiritual formation isn't always comfortable. Sometimes God challenges the things we've depended on, confronts attitudes we've protected, or allows us to walk through circumstances where our own strength simply isn't enough.

We ask Him to make us more like Christ. Sometimes we forget that changing us may actually require changing us.

And just like demolition, the process can leave us a little sore.

What's Behind the Wall?

The wall didn't create what was hiding behind it. Removing the wall just made it impossible to ignore.

Pressure can do something similar in us. A difficult person may expose impatience we didn't know was there. Financial uncertainty can reveal how much security we've placed in money. Waiting can expose our need for control. Criticism can uncover pride. Conflict can bring an old wound back to the surface that we thought we'd dealt with years ago.

The struggle didn't necessarily put those things there. Sometimes it simply exposed what was already behind the wall.

David prayed, “Search me, God, and know my heart... See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139:23–24).

That's a brave prayer. We're essentially giving God permission to start opening walls, and we may not particularly like everything He finds.

But discovering a problem isn't the same thing as creating it. Sometimes exposure is the beginning of repair.

This Is Above My Pay Grade

Eventually every DIY project reaches a moment when you stare at something long enough to realize, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.

Fortunately, we live in the age of YouTube, where a man you've never met can convince you in twelve minutes that plumbing really isn't that complicated.

Sometimes that's enough. Other times YouTube gives you just enough confidence to turn a relatively inexpensive problem into a considerably more expensive one.

Eventually wisdom says, call somebody who knows what they're doing.

Maybe there's a spiritual lesson there too. We're remarkably determined to DIY ourselves. We try harder. Read another book. Make another plan. Promise ourselves we'll do better next time.

And sometimes those things help. But eventually we encounter things inside ourselves that we simply don't know how to repair.

Sometimes God works through prayer and Scripture. Sometimes He works through a trusted friend, pastor, mentor, counselor, doctor, or someone else with wisdom and experience we don't have. We weren't created to figure everything out alone.

Asking for help isn't evidence that the renovation failed. Sometimes asking for help is part of the renovation.

Please Pardon Our Dust

Renovating a house also creates an awkward period where people come over and you feel compelled to explain everything.

We're working on that. That's temporary. Don't look over there.

You know what the room is supposed to become. They just see exposed drywall.

Maybe we should remember that when we look at each other. We're unfinished people living alongside unfinished people.

We see somebody else's exposed wiring and wonder why they haven't fixed it yet while conveniently standing in front of our own unfinished wall hoping nobody notices.

That doesn't excuse sin or harmful behavior. But it should give us a little more humility and a lot more grace. God may still be working on that person, just like He's still working on us.

Some Projects Take Longer Than Others

We've finished a lot around our house. There are projects I can look at now and barely remember what they looked like before. There are others that aren't finished—and a few that have been almost finished for a suspiciously long time.

I think our lives look like that too.

There are places where we can look back and clearly see what God has done. Maybe something that once controlled us doesn't anymore. Maybe we've learned to forgive. Maybe we're slower to anger. Maybe we're trusting God in circumstances that once would have sent us into panic.

Those rooms look different now.

Then there are the other rooms—the habits we're still fighting, the wounds that are still healing, the attitudes that keep resurfacing. And sometimes, just when we think one project is finished, God seems to walk us into another room and say, Now, about this...

Apparently sanctification has a pretty long punch list.

There Is No Final Reveal Yet

Paul writes in Philippians 1:6, “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

I love that verse because it tells us two things at the same time: God has begun a good work in us. And He's not finished.

There are still walls that need to come down, things that need to be exposed, and places that need repair. There may even be moments when we have to admit that what we're dealing with is beyond our ability and we need help.

But there are also rooms that look completely different because God has already been there.

Sometimes we become so focused on what's unfinished that we forget to look around at what's already changed. There may still be dust on the floor, tools sitting in the hallway, and a project somewhere that hasn't been touched in months.

That doesn't mean the work has stopped.

So if God is exposing something in you right now, don't immediately cover it back up. Maybe He's showing you one attitude that needs to change, one wound that needs attention, one habit that needs to go, or one place where you've been relying entirely on yourself.

You don't have to renovate the whole house today.

Start with the room He's already opened. Ask for help if you need it. Give Him access to what you've been covering up. Trust that the mess you're looking at isn't necessarily evidence that everything is falling apart.

Sometimes it's evidence that something is finally being rebuilt.

Then take one step forward.

After a couple of years of renovating our house, I've learned that finished and unfinished can exist under the same roof.

I think the same is true of us.

God has already done a lot of work. There is still plenty left to do.

Thankfully, He's not finished with us yet.