I stood at the edge, precariously balanced between concrete, steel works and wet sands… and took a deep breath. I was filling my lungs with the dreams of many men as my eyes drank in a vision of the future.
I watched the sun set between the metal works and surveyed the expansive mess. It was glorious.
Down four levels deep in the earth, the men were busy digging, piling and tying steel poles together in a cage… did they feel what I felt? I doubted it. I watched them for a while, seeing the years I had spent down in my personal foundation, miserable because I couldn’t grasp what I was building, frustrated because being in the darkness felt like eternity. I smiled to myself as the wind blew the dust into the air.
I was visiting the construction of a new building (mentioned many times in the local news) as I needed to gather information for a report I had to make. I looked at the walls that were finally erected. It’s still far from what it will be and yet, it was brimming with hope.
I saw myself in that building. I saw myself in the mess. I saw myself in the temporary and felt the weight of the permanent future. And then, with a sigh of relief, I walked away knowing that everything, every single darn thing that I had gone through in the past was for a purpose.
I am still under construction. I wonder what the final product will be? And will we, in this lifetime, ever reach that place where we can say, ‘I’m done!’
Will we ever reach that place where we’re no longer a works-in-progress?
‘Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to?
The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace.’
– C.S. Lewis
I got plans.
So does the Dream Maker.
I wonder… how many of them align into the perfect picture?