My Chemistry Lab was perfectly functional. And yet, the time had come:
I was getting my lab remodeled! I was so excited to hear this news as when I’d left to come here, I’d left behind a brand-new lab at my last school for this one here that had been around for decades.

“Fire Hazard.”

That had been my first thought when I’d entered my RVA Chemistry lab. Curtains that touched countertops, resting just inches from where teenagers were in charge of Bunsen burners with bright blue flames. Wooden countertops that showed evidence of charring and clear staining and interaction from chemical spills. Ceiling tiles were even yellowed from a once out of control elephant toothpaste demo or a Fire Friday gone wrong.

For years, students have successfully learned in our perfectly functional lab facility. But it was time.

The rotating facilities renovation schedule was rotating, and chemistry was up. I was consulted on what we needed, and I made my wish list!

“Can I please have fireproof counters? Maybe a cyanoacryllic block, or something stone? But not tiles with cement grout that would capture chemical spills into them.”

“Would you make the ventilation stronger? Maybe the fans just need a good cleaning…”

“Is it possible to replace the rubber vacuum hoses with copper so the tubing doesn’t collapse when I turn the vacuum pump on?”

“Can soap dispensers and paper towel holders be mounted on my wall?”

“Burned out lightbulbs replaced?”

On the wish list, the sky was the limit. The budget would decide later what was actually feasible, but for my hopes and dreams I was welcome to use the full extent of my limited experience and unbridled imagination.

After emptying the room at the end of this past school year, construction began.

Countertops were demolished, cupboard doors and faces were sanded down, and electrical wiring was ripped out of the wall as broken sockets were replaced. Drawers were busted up to be made smaller, making room for sliding metal rails and tracks instead of wooden mounts. Walls were puttied and sanded down awaiting a new coat of “Pebble Grey” slotted to replace “Vellum White” which looked more like “Yellowed Masking Tape” after over a decade of sunlight exposure.

Construction had begun and my room was a disaster. Dust covered every surface and piles of trash and construction materials took over as what was once an active teaching zone became a demolition zone. The neighboring classroom filled with chemicals and supplies as it became storage. A team of dozens worked endlessly day in and day out to prepare my new room for a new school year. My classroom was a mess- a complete disaster even just a week ago, even with classes slated to start today.

It felt a little bit like an external representation of what has been going on inside my heart. There are chambers in my heart God has been moving into with His sledgehammer. He has been sanding out bumps, deconstructing drawers and replacing my heart that I have come to see as perfectly functional. Here’s the thing though, God hasn’t just called us to be perfectly functional, he has called us to be perfect, as He is.

The hard part is in the waiting and in the release. Just as I had to turn over the keys to my chem lab and trust someone else to transform my classroom, I have to turn over the keys to my heart and trust God to do the transformative work He finds needed there.

Neither is easy, they both require so much surrender. I couldn’t quite visualize the final product in my classroom, but at least I had an idea of what was on the list so when I went to pop in and see the progress, I knew WHY wires were hanging out of the walls, why the ceiling tiles were askance, or why the tops of my counters appeared to be altogether missing.

The work of God in my heart is so much harder to trust. I wasn’t given the blueprint for this specific remodel. I wasn’t given a timeline for when this work will be done.

I was however given a blueprint for walking through it, and a model for how to respond when it feels like the work is heavy:

“Even when I call out or cry for help,
    he shuts out my prayer.
⁹ He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
    he has made my paths crooked…

¹⁶ He has broken my teeth with gravel;
    he has trampled me in the dust.
¹⁷ I have been deprived of peace;
    I have forgotten what prosperity is.
¹⁸ So I say, “My splendor is gone
    and all that I had hoped from the Lord.”

¹⁹ I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.
²⁰ I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.

This passage from Lamentations 3 feels like an exact description of what internal construction feels like. It feels like God has shut out my prayers for me to hear only the sound of crushing, breaking, and trampling down my inward thoughts, hopes and dreams. But the author of Lamentations reminds me not to stay focused on the pain of the demolition… in fact there is a very clear action step in the very next verse, reminders in the ones after of how to face the pain of breaking down sin:

²¹ Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

²² Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
²³ They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
²⁴ I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”

²⁵ The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
    to the one who seeks him;
²⁶ it is good to wait quietly
    for the salvation of the Lord.

So I will wait. Even when it feels like the destruction is active, that God doesn’t hear me, has shut me out, or is the cause of so much pain. I choose to remember God’s goodness and choose to wait, knowing that this place is not the end. As I pull the strings of stunning valences, wipe dust off of polished new granite, and stare at my reflection in freshly varnished wood, I choose to remember the beauty that is to come after the construction is complete. I surrender the keys of my heart and try not to fight against the demolition that is required to bring about something new, something only the master architect could envision for my life.

Prayer Points:

Besides the obvious, today is the first day of school! Hooray!
Please pray for teachers, dorm parents, other staff, and students alike as we embark on a new year together.