A while back, my dad passed on an old steamer trunk to me. It was coated in layers of dust, the lock had been broken out, and any leather had long since crumbled away. That old trunk probably crossed the ocean with some great-great-grand relative, carrying only bare necessities plus a bundle of hope for a new life. It’s battered and worn, bearing the scars of its journeys and years, but when I look at it, I see stories and potential. I see it restored and repurposed. As much as I’d like to, I won’t get to that project on this furlough, though . . . maybe next time.
The idea of restoring a thing – a house, a car, old furniture – is fascinating. We’ll even sit and watch others do it (as long as the process is in time-lapse). We love to see old made new, broken made beautiful, original glory restored. I wonder if God’s not so different when He looks at us. He can see beneath the layers of grime, the callouses and scars, and the cracks in our souls; He sees instead our original purpose and our future glory. God is in the business of restoration, and I’m so glad He’s not restrained by time like I am.
The word “restore” comes from the same Latin root as the word “restaurant.” Apparently, the first eatery known as a restaurant was in Paris where Monsieur Boulanger sold restorative broths nearly 300 years ago. And now, millions of humans go to restaurants of all kinds around the world to sit, eat, and be restored.
If you’ll continue to indulge me in a few more moments of word-nerdery, I would also like to consider two possible ways to split up our little friend, restore. Try the obvious syllabic break of re/store, for example. Re, meaning to do an action again, and store, meaning to gather or accumulate. We store up God’s goodness, grace, and love on repeat. Over and over again we forget, yet over and over again we can notice, give thanks, remember, and restore our souls in Him.
Or, we could look at it like rest/ore. I must rest, or else my body and soul might just quit on me. Burnout, as we call it, is right behind us if we don’t learn to find regular and healing rhythms of rest.
Living in this broken world is damaging to our souls. First of all, we’ve got our own sin nature to battle, not to mention constantly rubbing shoulders with others’ sin and sharp brokenness. We face relational conflict, taxing decisions, health concerns, compassion fatigue, awkward team dynamics, and constant culture stress every day. We abide in that already-not-yet space of redemption and sanctification, and you don’t need me to tell you that the not-yet is painful. In addition to that, we’re attacked regularly by the enemy of our souls. We have an adversary who prowls about like a roaring lion, and being hunted is not fun.
While much of our pain and soul-damage is external, there are also the very real and deep cuts of costly obedience. These are the sacrifices we make for Christ, for the gospel. These are the 19,831 goodbyes. The embarrassment of fumbling around in a language not your own. The inadequate health care or educational system you choose to raise your family in. The sweat and ants or the darkness and ice. The visa runs. The foregone comforts you see your peers enjoying in your home country. The “no’s” to your children because you just can’t have that pet with your mobile lifestyle. The painfully long sermons in another language or the ones doubled due to translation. The foods you miss. The nieces and nephews you don’t meet until they’re two. The tears of your parents as you take their grandchildren to the other side of the planet. Again.
I feel the tenderness from the shards of it all. Are these self-inflicted wounds for an extreme cause? Or are they opportunities for true worship? Can we say, as David said to Araunah when buying his threshing floor to build an altar to the Lord, “I will not offer to the Lord my God that which cost me nothing” (2 Samuel 24:24)? Obedience is costly. We know that full well. And so, because of our sacrifice, our battles, and our brokenness, we are ever in need of restoration.
But remember the God who quite possibly loves a good home makeover show, too? He’s in the business of restoration, and He’s got His eye on you. In fact, He’s got a whole restaurant in His word, and He’s pulling out the chair, beckoning you in. Sampling a few verses of His promise to restore Israel in Jeremiah 31:1-4,9 is a good appetizer. Have a seat, friend. You look hungry.
I want to invite you to take your time to chew on and really savor these verses:
“At that time,” declares the Lord, “I will be the God of all the families of Israel, and they will be my people.”
This is what the Lord says:
“The people who survive the sword
will find favor in the wilderness;
I will come to give rest to Israel.”
The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying:
“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.
I will build you up again…
They will come with weeping;
they will pray as I bring them back.
I will lead them beside streams of water
on a level path where they will not stumble,
because I am Israel’s father,
and Ephraim is my firstborn son.”
What words stood out to you? What phrases caught your attention? Is there a significant piece you want to talk to God about more or carry with you throughout the coming days? Jot it down and keep it close, because until these broken bodies and all of creation are renewed, we need all the restoration we can get.
