Rebuilding a Life One Step at a Time

Crowd at indoor concert and lit stage

We recently took my daughter to her first concert. When the headliner, Tobymac, took the stage he performed a few high-energy songs and then slowed down the tempo to introduce a song he wrote called “Cornerstore.” 

In a dark arena lit by spotlights, he stood on a neon-lined stage that extended into the middle of the crowd and shared the inspiration for the song—the loss of his 21-year-old son. He told of the moments in which he struggled but also shared what he said to his family: That they must rebuild—not on the world or the church but on God, the Cornerstone. 

I’ve been replaying the story and song in my head thinking about the image of rebuilding and how we all rebuild in different ways at different times in our lives. 

We may experience a loss or trauma that we didn’t ask for, something that shakes us so deeply that the walls around us crumble. We have to not only learn how to rebuild but want to. When others share their rebuilding process, it offers us hope and a pathway to find our own.

The gift he gave his audience that night wasn’t just a good show and a powerful story in the moment, he offered up spiritual food that we could store away for our next winter when we might find ourselves needing to rebuild.

Books, wooden cross, and hammer stacked on top of white blanket

It is fitting that this concept of rebuilding coincides with the Lenten season, an important preparation time for Easter. Those 40 days allow us to reflect on how we want our lives to look and how God is present in them. It can be a time of purposeful rebuilding when we reflect on where we are in our faith, relationships, health, careers, and purpose.

My Lenten season felt extended this year because I was also on a 90-day creative journey reading the book The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. That’s the beauty of rebuilding—we can do it at any time, for any period of time, and need not wait.

For me, the past year has been about rebuilding to more fully reflect the life I want, but what I’ve marveled at is how no blueprints exist. Unlike the plans builders have to follow for how they will construct a home, I have only my faith and the lantern in my hand to light where I stand. Remarkably, with each unknown step I’ve taken, my foot has always landed on solid ground.

Side of the road covered in pine needles with patches of gravel peeking through

I was reminded of this on Easter morning. After Easter baskets were opened and my family spent some time together, I stepped out for a walk with our dog. I looked down at the beautiful mixture of sun and shadows that appeared on the road and noticed that the trail of pine needles I was walking on wore out every couple of feet to reveal a patch of gray gravel. It gave the illusion of stepping stones that I’d never noticed before, despite my frequent walks along this road. The path seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

I’m always amazed at how life gifts us the people, experiences, and tools we need either in the moment or beforehand to hold onto for safekeeping. Much of my rebuilding has simply been about trusting that and knowing there will be a way forward even if I can’t see it fully yet.

 
 

Are you currently rebuilding your life, or are you considering an intentional rebuild?
What has been the hardest part of that process?
Have you had to rethink your identity, and what has that been like?
Who can you connect with for support?

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