Thistlewood

After more than a year of construction dust, worshipping offsite, and decision-making, it finally feels like there’s light at the end of the tunnel. Our church has been undergoing a major renovation ~ everything from sanctuary flooring to a new atrium for gathering together. While it hasn’t been easy, it’s been holy ground in its own way. As we near completion, I’ve been reflecting on what this experience has taught us ~ not just about buildings, but about faith, community, and loving our neighbors. In the coming weeks, I’ll share a few lessons I hope will guide us as we step into the next chapter of our life together.

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I think there is a light at the end of the tunnel. All of the flooring was installed last week (some pictures are included below) and we have the “shop drawings” back on the atrium curtain wall (the floor to ceiling windows). We’re still navigating the water main/fire suppression system issue, but we’re getting there. So, I thought I would use this space in the coming weeks to reflect upon what we have learned through the process of property sale and renovation with the hope that these are lessons we can take into our future together as a fellowship at this crossroads both of space and time.  

Here’s what I hope to write about in the coming weeks. Let me know if you have any questions or are curious about any part of the process.  

• Always have your hard hat and safety vest and leave your boots in your car 

• Learn how to read the drawings  

• Never assume / Question everything  

• Rely on your partners  

• Breathe  

• Mistakes will happen and sometimes mistakes are irreversible  

• Have faith and pray 

Always have your hardhat and safety vest and leave your boots in your car. 

I learned early on to keep a pair of boots in my car that I could slip on quickly ~ since I probably wear Birkenstocks 300 days a year. And my hard hat and reflective vest have become permanent staples in my minivan. That gear lets me respond on the fly when something needs my attention, whether it’s a construction site decision or a quick check-in on the progress. When the equipment I need is close at hand, I can step in and help. 

I never imagined that owning a hard hat would be part of my call to ministry. It was never a goal of mine to be involved in a construction project, and as concerning and stressful as it has been at times, I have to say it’s also been an incredibly exciting adventure. 

And readiness has everything to do with our calling. When you read through the armor of God in Ephesians 6, so much of it is about preparing ourselves ~ not out of fear, but so we can say yes to every invitation and opportunity to extend the tender mercy and generous grace of the living God to others. 

Which got me thinking: what is the spiritual PPE ~ the personal protective equipment ~ we need for life in Christ? Not so much to shield ourselves from the world, but to be ready. Ready to respond to God’s call on our lives ~ both individually and collectively as the church. 

Paul doesn’t speak of boots or vests, but he does call it the full armor of God: 

• The belt of truth ~ keeping us grounded and centered. 

• The breastplate of righteousness ~ guarding our hearts with God’s goodness. 

• The shoes of the gospel of peace ~ fitted and ready to go wherever love leads us ~ with boots firm enough that we don’t get our feathers ruffled when our toes get stepped on. 

• The shield of faith ~ to extinguish the flaming arrows of fear, doubt, and opposition. 

• The helmet of salvation ~ covering our minds with the promise that we belong to God. 

• The sword of the Spirit ~ which is the Word of God, our one offensive tool, not for battle but for proclaiming hope. 

So, what would it look like if we all drove around town with that kind of equipment always at hand? What if truth and peace rode in the passenger seat, and faith was within reach like a seatbelt? What if our minds were wrapped in grace and our hearts protected by love ~ not out of anxiety, but out of joyful readiness? 

Maybe that’s what it means to be prepared. Not armored in the world’s way, but clothed in Christ ~ ready to show up, step in, and say yes.