Last summer while visiting Wyoming, I found myself standing in front of three old buildings.
All three were historic.
All three had survived for more than a century.
Yet each one told a very different story.
The first building, in Saratoga, showed the effects of years of neglect. The paint was gone. Windows were broken. Parts of the structure appeared abandoned. While there was likely still a solid framework underneath, it was clear that extensive work would be required if the building was to remain standing for future generations.
The second building, in Cheyenne, was in the middle of restoration. Construction chutes hung from upper windows. Workers were removing debris accumulated through decades of wear and deterioration. Exposed brick revealed scars hidden behind newer coverings. It wasn’t beautiful yet, but something important was happening.
The third building, also in Cheyenne, had already undergone a complete restoration. Built in 1887, it had been carefully rebuilt and modernized while preserving its original character. The roof, plumbing, electrical systems, and mechanical infrastructure had all been replaced or upgraded. The historic details remained, but everything necessary for the future had been renewed.
Standing there, I realized I wasn’t just looking at buildings.
I was looking at people.
I was looking at myself.
And perhaps I was looking at you.
Some people are living in the first building.
Not because they intended to end up there.
No one plans to neglect their relationship with God.
It happens slowly.
A prayer skipped here.
A compromise accepted there.
A neglected Bible.
An ignored conviction.
A growing distance from the things that once mattered.
Years later, they look around and wonder how they drifted so far.
The structure is still standing, but the signs of neglect are becoming difficult to ignore.
Others are living in the second building.
God has begun the restoration process.
The old habits are being removed.
The hidden issues are being exposed.
The debris is being carried away.
Yet this stage can be frustrating because it often looks worse before it looks better.
Walls come down.
Scars become visible.
Things long hidden are suddenly exposed to the light.
Many people become discouraged during this season because they mistake the mess of construction for failure.
But demolition is often the first evidence that restoration has begun.
You don’t remove damaged materials because the building is worthless.
You remove them because the building is worth saving.
Then there are those living in the third building.
Not perfect.
Not without history.
Not pretending the damage never happened.
But restored.
Renewed.
Useful once again.
The interesting thing about restored buildings is that many still bear evidence of the years they endured. Certain marks remain. Certain scars can still be found if you know where to look.
The same is true in our walk with God.
The Lord does not erase our testimony.
He redeems it.
The failures become lessons.
The wounds become wisdom.
The scars become reminders of His grace.
When God looks at a broken life, He does not see a condemned structure waiting for demolition.
He sees a masterpiece worth restoring.
He sees what can be rebuilt.
He sees what can be redeemed.
And perhaps the most encouraging truth is this:
The restored building was not saved because it was already beautiful.
It was restored because someone saw value in it when others might have only seen a teardown.
That is exactly what God has done for every one of us.
The question is not whether you have damage.
The question is which building best describes where you are today.
The neglected one?
The one under construction?
Or the one that stands as evidence of what the Master Builder can do?
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Final Word
God never asked us to restore ourselves. He simply asks us to place our lives in His hands. Whether you’re barely standing, surrounded by the dust of renovation, or walking in the beauty of restoration, the Master Builder is still at work.
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