As my impending fatherhood comes very near to fruition, and as my daughter Kensli beats up my wife from the inside, I can’t help but think of Romans 8:22-23:
For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.
I started this changing table back in late August, just a couple of months after we found out that Patty was expecting (I started to say “we were expecting,” but there are some mothers who have pointed out to me that there is no “we” in pregnancy. I beg to differ: conception is definitely a team effort. TMI, right?). Patty was getting back into the swing of school and people left and right were ooing and ahhing at the prospect of babies and pastels and soft fabrics; you can come see our nursery if you have no idea what I’m talking about. However, for me, the idea that we had just taken part in God breathing life into another human being still wasn’t “real” to me…it blew my mind. Eve’s postpartum words “I have gotten a man with the help of the LORD” hadn’t sunk in yet, so I set out on a project to solidify in my mind the reality that it is no longer “Patty and I,” but “my family.”
As I started designing and planning the changing table, all of my thoughts were on the end result and the images of the beautiful heirloom piece that I had envisioned. I thought of the eye-catching beauty of a wood I was unfamiliar with, of the guests walking by and seeing it and leaving our house saying, “Truly, I never knew beauty and elegance and majestic craftsmanship until I saw your poop-cleaning table!” I thought of Kensli’s husband and I moving this table into their nursery one day as we prepared for their first child. Then I started drawing and cutting the boards, and the visions started to blur.
As I started measuring and marking, making initial cuts with my very entry-level tools and equipment, I soon realized that this wasn’t going to be easy: some bad cuts and poor planning soon turned this vision of grandeur into a pain in the butt…and I stopped working on the project for 3 months.
Come December, Patty began decorating trees and wreaths and warm, cozy smelling candles, and as she decorated the Christmas tree she put up the ornament of our first Christmas together and gave me that sideways glance and a smile. She chuckled and said, “Next year, the ornaments are going to have to be a lot higher on the tree!” and I was sold. Again, the vision of what was to come filled me with vigor and resolve, and I soon headed back out to the shop.
Though the wood had yellowed from sitting unprotected so long, a few hours of sanding peeled back the raw beauty of potential, the promise of “what could be” that I find so captivating in woodworking. Though my tools had gathered dust on the shelves, a little sharpening, a few drops of oil, and a jolt of electricity brought them back to life, and I set my hands to the task once more. Nearly every day throughout December, I spent late nights out in the shop, meticulously shaping the table into what I had pictured in the beginning, seeing each board, each joint, each grain pattern against a background of the life and love that this table would witness.
In that light, I wanted something that would bring some significance and timeless "weight" to this project; man is but a breath, but the word of the Lord endures forever. So, I cut and moulded some planks and had Proverbs 31:28-29 engraved, then stained around them (check out your bible or go to biblegateway.com). You can see the table top below as I started to join the engraved border, making a nice backdrop and fence for the changing pad.
And through my laboring, God began, again, to work on my heart:
The runner races with the finish line as his aim. The farmer sows with the harvest as his reward. The mother labors with her child as her prize. And the Christian daily dies with forever Life as his joy. In God’s story of redemption, there are some epic, cosmic, eternity-shaping exchanges, like Christ exchanging His glory for our shame and God exchanging our shame for Christ’s glory. Christ also said that if we would come after Him, we must lay our lives down here, so that we can pick them up again forever. It is death here, and life everafter; we can also make the opposite exchange, choosing life here for death everafter. But when Christ comes to dwell in us, He begins to open our eyes to see the surpassing joy set before us that outshines every gain and loss here in this life. This is why Paul can say in Philippians that to keep on living is Christ to him and to die at that moment is gain – if you kill me, I’ll be with Christ. If you let me live, I’ll run with the gospel of Christ. If you imprison me, I’ll witness to the guards. Bring what you may – my greatest treasure is unshakable because it is Christ Himself, and since you can’t take from me what I treasure most, I have nothing to lose! Go ahead, take my cobwebs and my crumbs, because my gold will never depart from me!
That’s having a vision of what is to come; that’s laboring for what will be, though it is not yet here. It is our prize, Christ Himself, that we fix our eyes on as we labor toward Him day by day, helped by His Spirit every step of the way. “Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:1-2
