Scratching at the Surface

*see the board in action by clicking the square above*

The other night, I watched a movie with my wife and afterward, as she got ready for bed, I began to feel restless. I ventured out into the shop without any definitive goals, just to clear my mind by busying my hands. A wise man said that a man who works with his hands, Sabbaths with his mind; I find the reverse to be true, as well: a man who works with his mind, Sabbaths with his hands.

Walking through the cold, moonless serenity of my backyard to the inviting door of my shop, my eyes happened upon a large board that I had laid out. It was a culled, throw-away 2"x12"x8' pine board, so knotty and pitted and rotted out that I've only used it to prop up a wall for the 5 weeks I've had it. With no particular aim in mind, I grabbed my plane and got to work on it.

In the 3.5 hour process of removing bark and rotted edges, digging out bug-eaten pits, and laboriously sanding over some knots bigger than your fist, God proceeded to whisper a bit - I love it when He does that.

Waist-deep in shavings, I had in my hands a degenerated piece of raw material; the lumber yard practically gave it away. It was discounted because it was currently unusable - it was poorly milled, didn't have a straight section to be found, and was rougher than Charlie Sheen's latest headshots. Plus, it was chemically treated, so a guy wouldn't even want to burn it to keep himself warm. Yet, the deeper I cut, the more this piece began to yield. I started with the underside, where pits ate into the board three to four inches, planing away the splinter-infested gouges into smooth, curvy lines. I moved to the top, covered in stamps and spray paint, and began to cut out the blemishes. The more I worked, the more the flaws transformed into character; the more I pulled back the scars, the more beauty I began to find underneath. By about 1:30am, my plane, sander, and a bit of my flesh and blood had uncovered a highly-figured, beautiful board, strong and deep and warm. Where the most ginger touch would have riddled a hand with splinters, there was now such a skin-soft surface that was not only gentle to the hand and eye, it also proved particularly strong, especially for a soft pine. With some cheesecloth, some natural stain, and probably some goofy smiles on my part, the thirsty wood drank up the color and BLAM! I suddenly had a conversation piece! This board is one of a kind, with organic, flowing lines and soft edges, patterned and knotted in swirls, and a hand-worn look that gives me the feeling of "home" - unremarkable, but uniquely "mine."

And it was just here that Christ whispered, "I'm doing this to you." How beautiful a thought! That the Craftsman that spoke light into existence, who scattered the stars and told the waves of the ocean "You may come this far, and no further," is pouring Himself into me! That He's scraping away the slag and splinters, softening what has hardened, filling where I'm vacuous, and forming me into a beautiful gift to present to His Father when I come home. That's sanctification, homey: Christ making beauty from ashes, dancing from mourning, a work of art from a culled scrap. In fact, the word for "workmanship" that Paul uses in Ephesians 2:10 is the word for "poetry": thus, the beauty of His universal Church, the collection of all who are in Christ throughout time and space - a living showcase of the goodness, glory, and splendor of the Creator.

However, we were not created to be simple objects of art, but to be made into redeemed tools with which the Craftsman accomplishes beautiful things. This is the "ministry of reconciliation" of 2 Corinthians 5:8, the process by which Christ brings the broken, rebellious creation back into peace with God, into which we have been graciously invited to take part. Hopefully in that same vein, I thought that it would be unfitting to leave that board as a mantle piece and made it, instead, into a "man-tool" piece, for which this blog is named. I jigsawed out holes for the drill and saw, and routed slots for the jigsaw, router, and nailgun, then braced it on studs. Now, though its aesthetic appeal is unassuming (only one edge is visible from eye-level), it is still as beautiful as it was, and now also performs an important function: keeping my tools close at hand.

Then a second echo of the first whisper came: "The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone," Psalm 118:22, reiterated by Jesus in the Gospels. There is coming a day when what the world has rejected as foolishness will be gloriously displayed as the ultimate sum of all things: the Great King returning, not meek and mild as in the Incarnation, but resplendent and undeniable, rapturous and unending. C.S. Lewis said that this day will not be a day of choosing, but a day of revealing what we have already chosen - it is no good saying, "I choose to kneel" when we have lost the ability to stand. This is unspeakable terror for those who do not know Him, but immeasurable joy for those who call Him "Father" and "Lord."

May our cry be: "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessng!" -Revelation 5:12

As all good things flow out from God, may they return to Him as worship and adoraton,
Kasey