Sunday, October 9, 2011

The Builder builds.




God does things to get you out of your box.
 He wants to be known and He takes some huge risks to pull that curtain aside to let you have a peek.
The risks He takes will derail you, undo you, strip your masks, and make you face the reality of what you’ve put your faith in.

~~Serena Woods



The builder grabs a piece of wood from the pile of rubble.
He rubs his hand over the side, along it's edges.
He looks deeply into it.
He sees the knots, he sees the crevices, he sees each flaw.
He sees it's brokenness.
He begins to sand it down, grinding the coarse paper across it's back side.
Dust begins to fall.
The wood begins to change it's form.
He places it upright, and grabs a nail from his pouch.
He pounds the nail driving it into the heart of the wood.
He nails and he nails.
The wood screams, and the sound echos within the builders's palm.
The entrance of the nail cracks and splits the wood down the center.
He pounds some more, bending the head of the nail.
He pulls out the nail, ripping the core of the wood.
The wood shrieks.
It breaks apart.
Pieces fall.
He grabs another nail, repeats the process, pounding and pounding his hammer.
The nail is driven in, deep and hard.
It pierces the wood through and through.
He stands back, admiring his work...
only to grab another piece of wood, and begin again.


He holds.
He looks.
He sands.
He drives.
He pounds.
He pulls.
He hears.
He admires.
He builds.
He redeems.
We change...

The Builder builds.



As I listened to the song ring in my ear on my drive home, it pierced my heart...

I watched you die
I heard you cry
Every night in your sleep
I was so young
You should have known better than to lean on me
You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry in the middle of the night.


I wondered why.
I questioned Him...
Why did those things happen to me, and why did You allow it?
Why did You give her so many children to hurt?
You could have stopped her before she got to me?
There is so much that is broken.
Why did she use Your name to back up her abuse?
Why did You let her?
Didn't you hear me crying?
Oh God, why does the pain, and the scars have to run so deep?
Why?


Tears began to race down my face.

His words came in like a rushing wind,

"I'm The Builder.  I build."


In my tears, I pushed His voice back.
I relived the pain of betrayal over and over in my mind.
I played the song louder and the tears fell heavy on my cheeks.


His voice pierced through like lightning in the dark,
"I've built you from the dirt I placed you in, and My hand has always been on You. I'm The builder, I build, and you are My workmanship. You are beautiful. I will never leave you."


As His words squeezed my heart, the tears came in with a force that was almost unbearable.
I pulled over to the side of the road.
My heart cried out with every pulse.

He sees my brokenness.
He wraps me within His grace.
He holds me close.
He comforts me, even though I question Him.
He is there, He is always there.


I sometimes have trouble defining the difference between forgiveness and forget.
I forgave, I don't doubt that.
But the sting of memory haunts me at times.
Or does it?
Does it haunt, or does it just remind?
Is it only a reminder of where He brought me from,
so that I never forget how much I need Him.
A reminder of who He is.
I struggle in my flesh filled reasoning,
only to discover that His purpose is so much more grand, than anything I can ever try to figure out.
He built me up within the rubble, then He rescued me from it.
To show me who He is.
Oh, how I need Him.
He is...what I am not.

That is why we need Him.
Because He is everything we are not.

He is redeeming Love.
He places.
He rescues.
He is life.
He is death.
He is brokenness
He is healing.
He is everything we need.

He simply is.


Weeping may endure through the night, but joy comes in the morning.

The Builder stands back and admires His creation.
He smiles as He looks.
He notices each crack, each crevice, each knot and each smoothe edge.
He smiles at it's beauty...
remembering what once was, and what now stands before Him.
He holds me close to Him.
He is in awe and wonder of Himself.
His face lights up and all of existence beams brightly with His accomplishment...
all the earth and heavens Praise Him.


I am His work.
He is My Builder.

From within the broken places, He builds.
The Builder builds.




Isaiah 61:3
To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.


Psalm 40:2
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.

















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