Guises of Fear

It’s so hard to go where You want me to go

It’s so hard to do what You’ve shown me to do
It’s so hard to say what You told me to say

It’s so hard to be who You’ve called me to be

Because fear is weighing heavy on me
Fear is keeping me from being free

So Lord, please send Your love

That takes all fear away

Oh Lord, give me the strength to say

I won’t be afraid

I won’t be afraid

I won’t be afraid

I know I can go where You want me to go

I know I can do what You’ve shown me to do

I know I can say what You’ve told me to say

I know I can be who You’ve called me to be

I will go, I will do, I will say, I will be
Where You want me to go
What You’ve shown me to do

What You’ve told me to say

Who You’ve called me to be
And I won’t be afraid

The Sunday before I left for Detroit, I sang this song at evening church. It was incorporated in my telling the congregation my plans for leaving, but it was more than a church special. It was a way to reassure myself that the move was something I could do.

Well, I made the move, but in the last few weeks, I’ve found I still need to sing this song. Still being unemployed and with the church plant still in the very beginning stages of development, I have had much down time. During this time I have found myself full of many emotions. Excitement, creativity, loneliness, confusion, frustration, anticipation, amazement, anger, longing, and moments of utter contentment have all had their time in the spotlight of my emotions and thoughts. Trying to work through all these thoughts has caused me to reflect on their origins. I have found that almost all of these positive emotions have sprouted during my times of worship and prayer, while all the negative emotions have slinked in with fear.

Fear.

From the chill of terror of the unknown to the red heat of embarrassment, fear has many different forms and many different disguises. It is often misleading. For example, not wanting to disturb or interrupt someone is a guise used regularly by the fear of rejection.  I find my motivation of “politeness” is usually just camouflaged fear. Saying “I’m not interested in trying something new” is many times a way of saying “I’m too afraid of failure to try.”

I have for a long time hated fear, mostly because of its prevalence in my life, so in bigger decisions (like moving for instance) where the motivation of fear can be seen plainly, it is easier for me to step on the head of fear and move forward courageously. But, it seems that little choices slowly choke me up.

Having had much time to think and reflect, I find more and more a revelation of what motivates my actions. It has helped reveal a lot of disguises for me. Being smart, having common sense, being mature, being polite… while all of these have their goodness, they are often great costumes for fear. Now that I know this, though, it is becoming easier to check my motivation.

I can dance crazy in public if I want; it has nothing to do with my maturity. I can ask questions even if it may make me look stupid, because I’d really be stupid if I never learned the truth. I can reach out and speak boldly of Jesus even if most people’s “common sense” would tell them to shut up. I can go out of my way to make new friends, being bold and interrupting conversations, and pushing passed my shyness; a moment’s embarrassment will hardly be remembered once friendships have started. I can try and do anything; my definition of failing is changing.

I have had a lot of fear in me, but the Word of God continues to remind me, “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” (2 Timothy 1:7) With this in mind and God’s perfect love that never fails, never gives, and never runs out, I can go in confidence and say:

I will go
I will do
I will say
I will be
And I won’t be afraid.

Detroit 1: Here's the Plan

Here was the plan:

First, go through my things and pack up everything I want and get rid of everything else.

(I only mostly completed this task. I’m pretty sure I packed up everything I wanted to take with me, but I didn’t go through everything. There’s still a good chunk of stuff in parent’s home that I just couldn’t part with.)

Second, take some friends on a road trip that crosses four states, has a layover at my grandparent’s home, gets us into Detroit with enough time to do a little exploring, and drops me off at my new place of residence as my friends complete the road trip circle.

(After some last minute yes’s and no’s five of us left on the road trip. With my father and brother in one vehicle, and two friends and myself in another vehicle we traversed a total of five states. Exhausted from the thirteen hours to get to my grandparent’s house we ended up spending our morning sleeping and playing the Wii, and caused us to leave much later in the afternoon than first anticipated and lent to our desire to just get food and get to my new home. Thus, no exploring was done, which was fine by me, since I was reminded of my loathing of city driving. On the morning of the third day, we traded hugs and my fellow voyagers left.)

Third, find a job while joining the wonderful Bono family in planting a church.

(This is still in progress. So far I have no job, and as far as the church planting goes, I’m still learning what it means to plant a church.)

That was the plan, and it still is, but it also is becoming more defined.

In the last two weeks I have moved into a room, started the process of having this new residence with the Bono’s feel like a home, while also being aware of any opportunities of getting a slightly more permanent housing situation, applied for a couple of jobs and have not gotten any feedback, started and finished a painting, finished a couple books, and have had many discussions on what the future concerning this church plant will be like.

In these discussions Sal Bono, the church plant pastor and husband/father of the family I am with, has shared many different ideas, but they all come together under a vision for church supported by social entrepreneurship. Social entrepreneurship takes the basic principals of being an entrepreneur and places the value of the business not just on profit and financial return, but also, and more so, on the positive social return that business has. Basically, whatever business we go into, our desire is to increase it not only in profits, but also in the how many jobs we can create. Our profits will then be sown directly back into any of the church’s ministries or other non-profit organizations in the Detroit area. Our goal isn’t just to start a church, but to affect the community. We want to be missionaries without burdening the people we are serving as Paul did with his tent-making business. We want a church with ministries that will not only be able to sustain itself, but be able to create jobs and opportunities to help reclaim the city of Detroit. My favorite of these ideas we’ve already started to work on a little bit. We’re calling it Re:Troit.

Detroit is a city that was built for 2 million people, but now only has 700,000 people occupying it. It is pretty easy to imagine the number of abandoned houses and building. In fact, Detroit is known to be the poster city for urban decay. Abandoned and trashed things are very easy to find in every neighborhood. It’s with this knowledge that Sal came up with idea of collecting these forgotten and eyesore things and turning them into beautiful creations that we can sell. After a little thought and debate Re:Troit was birthed and named. We’ve already collected a few things and are working on our first project. While the basic upcycling of the waste in Detroit is a great idea, we have decided to add an extra perk with everything that we will be making. Each item will be given a QR code that will link whoever scans it information about the neighborhood in which the items were gathered including its beauty, its hardships, and different ideas on how to pray for it. How cool is that!?

There are so many other things involved with the church plant that I had never really thought about their importance. Things like mission statements, picking names, what our focus will be at the beginning, and how to get the word out about a new church. The amount of lists I am balancing is incredible. It’s actually quite a scary venture, but it’s also exciting. I still don’t know much, but I am growing and learning a little everyday. While I have been getting antsy to get more things started, I’ve been realizing how quickly the pace will be increased to a sprint, so for the moment I am enjoying the time to reflect and prepare. 

Thoughts From Today

Thoughts from today:

* I am going to apply for a lot of jobs soon. My first application? Trader Joes :) 

* I want to make more music.

* I feel like in my quiet times, very soon, extremely colorful and loud things will begin to sprout. 

* I have so many awesome friends and friendly's. 

* I want to read more. 

* I want to create more.

* I would have loved to meet Henri Nouwen, C.S. Lewis, and G.K. Chesterton. Of course others, but for today just these three. 

* I'm excited for stories to share from Detroit. 

Returning: Article 10

Returning. It’s a bittersweet word, holding connotations of leaving and arriving.

In my last article, I spoke of my desire to stay in Poland, so the bitter portion of my returning home was not surprisingly a dead weight in the pit of my stomach. The mix of hopefulness, sorrow, stress, and impatience that caused a stir in my chest, kept me on edge while heading to the Poznan airport. I didn’t begin to relax until after I boarded the plane. At that moment I realized I was returning home, and, unless God performed some divine act, nothing was going to change that.

Returning. I’m not always so good with dealing with this part of travel. I joked around a bit and tried engaging in conversation with whomever was next to me. You know, I was allowing myself to be distractible. I don’t remember much about that flight except that a lot of thinking happened. I also had the opportunity to strengthen my self-discipline by exercising restraint on my tear ducts. That was a very hard work out, but I did not want to bawl on a plane full of Polski people.

Returning. At that point in time, the leaving was more bitter than sweet. I was stuck in a seat on an airplane that was zooming me away from my new found loves. I was leaving Poland. I was leaving a people that I dearly wanted to give joy and freedom in Christ. I was leaving friends and people with whom I so easily became fond of, and they fond of me. I was leaving a place where I felt I was home, despite the language barrier. And I was leaving a family that in so many ways made me their family, as well. I was leaving without knowing if and when I would ever see any of it again.

Returning. The thought of arrival wasn’t exactly pleasant at first either. Though I was coming home, I was to arrive at place of unknown. Arriving with little money. Arriving to the things I left behind, but that of course would have changed with the time I was gone. Arriving to life unscheduled, yet back to normal. Arriving without the slightest clue as to what God wanted for me next, which is annoying, since I felt I knew exactly what I wanted.

Returning. It wasn’t all bitter. I found sweetness in leaving Polish bathrooms, constant sneezing, and the language barrier. Sweetness also awaited my arrival. Family, friends, and peanut butter chai’s were ready to welcome me.

Returning. You never really know what to expect. Life can be just the same as you left it, as though everything was on pause for months at a time. On the other hand, you can close your eyes for a moment and everything changes. In this realization I put my expectations on the unexpected. Which was a good idea. Though much was the same, I was surprised by how much had changed in the month I was gone. Looking back now, I’m amazed at how much has changed since returning.

Returning. I’ve traveled a decent amount in my life, and I’ve come expect the emotional low that accompanies returning. For a month I was busy, constantly surrounded by people, and doing something that made life feel productive. I was learning and growing and developing friendships that I hope never to forget. In less than 36 hours goodbyes and see-you-later’s were said, 5000 miles passed beneath me, hugs and welcome homes were given, and being utterly exhausted physically and emotionally I found myself in bed, eyes leaking saltiness, thinking that all I know now are just memories. The next few weeks were an up and down journey emotionally speaking. Even in that though, it’s an opportunity to grow.
Returning. Like I said earlier, I had no idea what I was coming back to. Actually, I knew I was coming back to no job, but I didn’t know what I was going to do about it. I remember in one of my freak out sessions, God telling me to be still, He had it all under control. He did. In the last two months I have been sick, having no money, and no real prospects of what I could be doing next in life. Was I coming back just to work to live, living in my parents house? But from that base God has brought up opportunity after opportunity. So much has happened. I was able to start working at the Higher Grounds Café again and begin getting ahead with finances. I have been blessed with the opportunities to be able to participate in a multiple outreaches around Minnesota. I have been able to help with different worship teams and youth groups since returning. Obviously, I have been able to write multiple articles for the paper, which has been a blessing in itself. I now have my time in Poland chronicled and have received a fair amount of good feedback. It’s been good.

I have returned. This word can leave one with the impression that it is the end of a story, but thankfully it’s not. One of the opportunities that has been presented to me the past couple months and that I’ve accepted, is moving to Detroit, MI in January. I know, I’ve heard the concern from many people at this decision; I have heard the news and the rumors of a dangerous city, but I am excited. Detroit is a broken city, but I will be able to go and help some friends do what we can to help mend the broken, and while we do so, plant a church. At times I am fearful and others I’m excited. This will be another great growing experience; one that will no doubt give me more tales to tell. Which is good, since this is my last article for now. Hopefully in a month or two, I will be returning to all of you again. God bless.

Can I Stay?: Article 9

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“How do you like Poland?”

I was asked this question within the first few hours of arriving into the beautiful country. Of course, at the beginning, what do you say? The land is beautiful and very similar to home, but the language barrier was very overwhelming. Of course, answering the question became easier as the days passed. The more I learned and experienced in Poland the more I liked it.

It didn’t take any longer than a week, before I was getting comments about the return visits I must make. By that point, I was open to the idea, though I wasn’t utterly in love Poland. I was enjoying my time, but at one point I remember thinking that if I had to go back home, I could do so fulfilled and ready to move on to the next season of life without too many qualms about leaving early.

I went to Poland expecting my time there to be more of a bridge leading to the next thing, instead of actually being the next destination. I don’t remember the exact day, but I remember the feeling of realizing that I had been wrong.  I remember looking at everyone and thinking I could just stay. My first suggestion to do just that followed shortly after.

Sitting with others in the Białecki’s kitchen in Janikowo, Monika started talking about the Christian theatre school she and Jarek had attended and how it would be possible for me to go there. She said I could go to school, help with the Dar ministry, live with the Siech family, and learn Polish. The idea didn’t sound too bad to me.

That same weekend in Janikowo two different people, two different times made reference to me staying and getting a paid job to teach conversational English in Janikowo or pretty much anywhere in Poland if I wanted. With each passing suggestion and day, I not only delighted in the realization that these friends wanted me to stay in Poland, but I began to realize that I wanted to stay more and more.

As much as I wanted to stay, though, I more so wanted to do God’s will. If He wanted me to return to the States, then I would, and if He wanted me to stay in Poland I would be perfectly content to do so. I began to pray about staying and because this would be such a big move, I asked for a couple specific signs or fleeces (a concept found in Judges 6:36-40). I asked God to allow one of four things to happen and then I would know that I was suppose to stay in Poland. If they did not happen I would return to the U.S. knowing that it was the will of God.

After requesting this, it seemed to me that God’s sense of humor came out a little more. Everything I asked for would happen in part, but before each scenario could reach the fullness of what I asked it seemed as though God said, “No.”

The first of these requests was that I would have enough money in my bank account to be able to pay for at least one more month of living in Poland. That would roughly be $600. After praying the four things, I went to check my account to see what I had to work with. I knew from previous balancing of the finances that I shouldn’t have any more than $50 left, but when I checked I was surprised to see a couple hundred dollars. Through some giving of others God had increased and blessed me financially, though not with enough to pay for staying in Poland. Every time I would check to see if something changed or increased, I was slightly disappointed, though blessed by what I had.

If God didn’t want to give me money for the next month I had suggested that He find me a place to stay with room and board free for the next month. This was the second “sign” I asked for. The night before I was to fly back home, Jarek, who had been the only one up to that point not suggest I stay, sat me down with Google translate to have a conversation. In this conversation he told me of what I could do in Poland, how I could help, how I was wanted, and at the end even said that their family would be able to continue feeding me for free while I was living in there building. Realizing the financial capabilities of the family I realized how sincere and loving this offer was, but I also realized that it wasn’t the fullness of what I asked God for. I needed to be able to stay someplace without having to pay for at least the first month, but that wasn’t part of the offer, or even really possible. I was 0 for 2.

The third sign was that something would happen in the beginnings of travel and for some reason I would not be able to board the plane or the flight would be canceled. While we were being driven to the airport we listened to the radio as our friend/translator/driver told us of the big topic of the morning: airline protesting. It was said that many of the flights going into Frankfurt would be canceled or delayed. Only one of four flights was actually able to set out. My heart raced while I heard the reports. We arrived in Poland through the Frankfurt airport; it wasn’t hard to believe that our flight may be canceled. Even our driver said that we might be able to be stuck with them a little while longer. Once we arrived at the airport though I found that our flight was going into Munich and would be right on time. Like I said before, it seemed like God was teasing me.

The final request I had made was a side thought, random, and now when I think of it, I am embarrassed. I told God, that if someone proposed to me, I would stay. Mind you, this was a couple weeks into Poland that I said this, there was still possibility to meet some crazy person and have one of those overtly romantic stories you get from the movies. Also, mind you, that when I said this and even up to the point of me leaving there was no one in particular I had in mind. I met some awesome men of God, but marriage was truly not on my mind besides that quick moment of my flippant request. It was more of a joke because of everyone teasing me before I left for Poland about finding a husband, than it was a serious cincher for me staying. Knowing all this, God decided to continue teasing my stupidity.

There was one young man who had not initially planned to be spending much time with us, but ended up staying with us, traveling with us, and translating for us for about a week. After our last night of the tour we dropped him off at his home in Poznan. A couple days later was the Friday that Russ, Doris, and I were flying back home. That morning as we gathered for one last breakfast, Russ mentioned that our friend had emailed him about a conference that he was attending for the last few days of his holiday. He also mentioned, while looking directly at me, that our friend said, “I think I have met my future wife. I must pray about this.”

My first response was, “Wow, that was quick. We only dropped him off a couple days ago.” Russ looked at me strange and I just ignored.

About a half an hour later he was mentioning it to someone else, though he continued looking at me. I was confused a bit, but because of the emotional times of saying goodbye I just continued to ignore him. Finally, right before we were about to leave he said it again. It was then I realized that Russ thought our friend was talking of me. Slightly surprised and taken aback I remembered the last “sign” I had asked God for. I began to mentally freak out a bit. As much as I was friends with this guy, the idea of getting proposed to (while obviously a far-fetched thought) all of the sudden seemed like it could be a possibility and I was not at all enjoying that thought. What if Russ was right? What if the guy came to the airport? What would I do? I know I would have to stay in Poland, but would I have to say, “Yes?” Between the possibilities of flight cancelations and proposals my heart felt like it was running a marathon. At one point, our driver received a call from someone with the same name as the friend. This did nothing to calm me, even after I found out it was a different person. I honestly did not relax much until our plane took off.

Obviously, as I am back in the U.S. none of these things happened, but while I was on the plane flying back home, I asked God why? Why only partially fulfill the requests? Why tease me? I was slightly frustrated and mad at first, but then I realized something. If God wanted me stay in Poland, He showed me that He could make any of my requests happen… even a proposal. I did not doubt His ability to do any of it. The fact that He could, but didn’t, was all the more a confirmation that returning home was indeed the next step in this journey with Him. In my asking about confirmations to stay God went over and above and showed His will to me in a way that ceased all questions. I have not asked “what if…” once. I know my God’s got me, and I’m glad to be in His good and perfect will.

Międzyzdroje: Article 8

At the end of the evangelism tour with the theater group Dar, we spent the night at a brand new, not yet opened hotel called the Golden Tulip in Międzyzdroje. It is located five minutes from the Międzyzdroje beach on the Baltic Sea. This was a unique portion of the tour since it was not focused on evangelism, but was an opportunity to raise money for Dar.

One of the main managers knew Jarek and Monika Siech from theatre work they had done in Bydgoszcz. He was able to offer them the opportunity to help “sell” the apartments/hotel rooms to the investors who were coming the following day, before the actual grand opening. There were two apartments that the investors would be shown and our job was to act as though we were living in these rooms.

This was probably one of the most random, interesting, awkward experiences of my life. Monika and Jarek dressed as mimes and moved about one apartment as a married couple. Kinga, Carman, and I were dressed in our doll costumes and were to pantomime a family in the second apartment. Carman was the father, Kinga our dancing daughter, and I, of course, was the mother.

We arrived in Międzyzdroje around noon the day before our actual “performance,” so we got to explore a bit, walk the beach a little bit, and wait for Monika and Jarek to be finished with their meeting with all the bigwigs of the Golden Tulip. It was a fairly enjoyable day except for the fact that my immune system was still trying to conquer a nasty little sickness that had hit me the day before, so I was basically sleepwalking my way through the sightseeing. I was overjoyed when we were able to get into the rooms that we would be staying in for the night. I was in and out of sleep from the moment we found our rooms and I plopped myself on the comfortable, never before slept on bed. Pillows surrounded me and it was glorious.

One of the few times I was out of sleep was for the group meeting to explain what exactly was expected of us. While eating our Polish pizza, we were informed, by Jarek and Monika, of every little detail on how we were to act. If we did one thing that some of the top managers did not like, our mutual understanding with the hotel (since we were not given a written contract) could be terminated. With this knowledge, we realized there was a lot of practice and particulars we would have to go through, but that night, to my relief, we decided to just enjoy our slightly unfinished rooms and rest.

The next morning, with me feeling somewhat better, we gathered together for a Bible study and then spent quite a bit of time getting ready for that afternoon. We got acquainted with the apartments we would be showing and worked out the little kinks in our doll movements. The thing I struggled with the most was only interacting with the Dar members and never responding to the audience that would be coming through. This was difficult because we were told that we were only an enhancement to show off the perks that came with the rooms and were not to be distractions. This meant, we were not to respond to anything besides each other, but we were also not to be rude and ignore the investors. The line between playing our part and ignoring was difficult one to figure out.

With all our makeup and costumes on we waited anxiously in our separate apartments. Where Carman, Kinga, and I waited, there were also three others: two waitresses of sorts and one bartender, for the hotel had set up a bar on the balcony. We all stood in the living area chatting, but ready to scramble to our posts as soon as we would hear the elevator “ding.” I don’t remember how many false alarms we had.

The first group of investors came through the doors very loudly. They were all English speakers, though it was obvious that for most of them it wasn’t their first language. I spent the first few minutes of their tour in the bathroom doing short doll like movements that would point out different features and then pausing. After showing off the towel heating rack and the other fancy things I would walk into the kitchen and pretend to pour tea for my “husband.” It was basically all improve from there on. The groups would stay anywhere from 15-30 minutes in the apartments, and I would have to move, pause, not respond, smile, move pause, and figure out my next move, while trying not to do the same thing over and over again. Thankfully, most of the investors tended to enjoy their time at the bar more than spending the whole time exploring the apartment.

This first group also held one of the most awkward moments I have ever had. I was paused by the dishwasher in the kitchen, looking down at the teacup I had just placed in it, when an older gentleman approached. Trying not to respond to his obvious nearness I was staring as intently as I could when the gentleman grabbed my hand in his. He started to speak to me with a French accent, and since I assumed this was not one of those times I could ignore the guests, I looked at him in response. As our eyes met, he stepped back slightly taken aback.

“Your eyes,” he exclaimed, “They are so blue! They are perfect! They are blue! I am French. ”

It was my turn to be somewhat taken aback, and not knowing what to do I just smiled and nodded my head slightly.

Still holding my hand, he continued praising my eyes and commenting about how he was French. When the only response I could think to give him was the nodding of my head and the pleasant-June-Cleaver smile, he just squeezed my hand and said with a knowing smile, “I understand, it’s okay. I am French.”

It was one of the longest two minutes of my life, but thankfully the tour leader announced that it was time to leave. With one last squeeze the Frenchman let go of my hand and walked out the door. Once every last investor was gone I was free to laugh and shake off the awkwardness. Kinga, seeing a little of what had happened came to me laughing as well. After that, the rest of the evening seemed to be rather uneventful, though, I’m not sure if I’ve ever had so many random people take pictures of me.

Thinking back to this time of unusual and unexpected opportunity for provision, I realize that living this life is never boring. I never know what to expect from the things God calls me to do. It reminds me that His ways are higher than mine, and with a past as strange and awesome as I’ve got thus far in life, it only makes me even more wary and excited for the future.

Broken Buildings, Broken Heart: Article 7

All week I have been debating what to write about. There are many stories, but some are very personal and some are simply too hard to explain with just words. I am currently writing this article with the deadline looming just mere hours before me.

I am sitting at the Higher Grounds coffee shop in Remer, the part time job I’ve held since returning home in September. I’ve been browsing my pictures and reliving memories in between times of customers and cleaning. Thankfully, it has been a slow day. Otherwise there just might not have been an article this week.

As I peruse my Poland pictures I am reminded of all the history Poland has. There are old buildings filled with tales, cemeteries and old bunkers that weave legends of war and battles, and of course the patriotic people of Poland tell the stories as well. While I gathered many bits of detail, I learned that there is so much more in their history to be learned.

My last Monday in Poland we spent it exploring a few of the abandoned places. Between the Germans and the Soviets it’s hard to remember who built what and how long they were there. Bunkers edge cities. Not because the Polish were fighting with anyone, but because they were often the buffer between the USSR and Germany. That day we saw a couple old bunkers, a Russian cemetery, and an old officers building built by the Germans.

This last building was my favorite. It was a mess, but you could still see the grandeur that it must of held before bombs, abandonment, graffiti, and parties all left their mark. It was built in a circular fashion. There were very large rooms with high ceilings connected by curved corridors lined with offices and dorm rooms.

Upon first entering the building there was a round, domed room that connected to two different hallways and some stairs to enter into the second story. Bricks, doors, windows, cushions, and heaps of glass covered almost everywhere you looked. We easily spent over an hour following hallways, sticking our heads into rooms, climbing stairs, and imagining what the building must have been like before all this destruction was brought upon it.

After many rooms explored and stairs climbed we found ourselves outside in a large courtyard. It was almost impossible to not step on red ceramics and other building rubble since it was strewn so thickly across the ground. As I went around taking pictures to capture the sorrow and beauty of such a destroyed place, Kinga perused the rubbish piled on the ground until she found something unique. She held out for me to see a marred and broken piece of glass shaped undeniably as a heart. As I took a picture of her with this piece of glass, I found myself pondering the symbolism that it brought to mind.

Before I could think too much about it though, I met up with Monika (Kinga’s mother). She looked so troubled and sad that I had Kinga translate for me what was weighing her down. Monika and Jarek have desired to own a large building complex, in order to hold their dreams of a Christ-centered theatre, a theatre school, and a home for elderly and/or orphans. She explained her sorrow that such a perfect building for their dreams would be laying out unwanted and in ruins, while they had no resources to create it into what she could envision.
Again, I was hit with a great sense of something more meaningful was being spoken out here. I took my leave of everyone and struck out on my own to get a few more shots of the building and take some time to think.

As I climbed to the highest point I could I marveled at the beauty the building must have once held. It was designed for greatness. At that thought I realized that this building was a perfect example of us, we as humans.

We were initially designed and created for beauty and for greatness. We were meant for a purpose and built perfect for that purpose and when we fulfilled it, we would bring glory to the one who designed us. But before we humans could really live out this glory we were destroyed. Sin was brought in and flattened us useless. Since the Fall of Adam and Eve, we have been conceived with this design for greatness, but it is laid out as impossible to fulfill because of the sin we were born into.

While we’ve already been rendered seemingly inadequate, the destruction on our building doesn’t stop. Life brings people who leave their beauty and leave their scars on us. Through graffiti, drunken parties, blatant disrespect, and natural deterioration, the perfection we were created for that already seemed unreachable distances itself from us even further.

Just as Monika saw the beauty and the potential of this abandoned officers building, we sometimes can see what we were meant for. But just like Monika having the vision, but not having the resources, we find ourselves glimpsing what could be, but realizing there’s no way for us to be able to afford it.

The only way Monika and Jarek could ever have this building is if, by some miracle, it was given to them along with the crew to fix it up. The only way we could every have our hearts open for renewing is if someone paid the price and then gifted it back to us. The thing is, while Monika and Jarek haven’t yet been gifted with this building, we, as humans have a gift waiting for us.

As I walked down the stairs leading away from the front large double door entrance, I was overwhelmed by the realization of the initial depravity of my heart. More than that though, I was overcome with the rediscovering of the joy of Christ’s salvation. His sacrifice not only bought my broken, beaten, destroyed, useless heart, but He is continually building up, shaping, and cleaning it out so that it may once again display it’s originally designed glory. So that I may once again display my life’s originally designed glory—the glory of God shining in me.