Finding Contentment in the Restoration of Some Things
My friend Jeff texted me the other day to say he’s working on the restoration of some things, not the restoration of all things. The accompanying picture showed his vehicle stuffed full of lumber. From the trunk of the van to the passenger armrest sat pressure-treated 2x6s ready to restore a deck.
His play on words—the restoration of some, not all, things—was a way to tease me about my book title and, I think, to let me know how busy his life felt with meaningful projects.
I loved his text and his gentle teasing. It made me realize that his humble perspective—faithful, God-ward attention to the restoration of some things—is exactly what God wants from his children. Knowing and believing that we were made finite and that the scope of our callings is thus also finite is a better way to live than scrambling, scrambling, scrambling, constantly frustrated, frustrated, frustrated, because we can’t fix it all before we die.
I feel this frustration even today. It’s supposed to be my day off from work at church, and yet I just made a list of ten tasks for the day, spanning writing tasks, ministry check-ins, and house chores. I’ll work on everything from writing a blog post and mailing books to mowing the lawn, installing an air conditioner, and cleaning my barbecue grill, which is super dirty. And none of these tasks approaches the glory of stopping the war in Israel or Ukraine, ending abortion, sending the gospel to an unreached people group, or fully training up my children in the way they should go so that when they are old they will not depart from it. I simply need to swing by Walgreens to pick up a prescription because sometimes my tummy hurts.
“Do not be anxious about tomorrow,” Jesus said, “for tomorrow will be anxious for itself” (Matt. 6:34). But you probably sometimes wonder, What if I’m anxious for today?
Remind yourself that we’ll never fix and restore it all. There’s too much broken in the world—and too much broken in us—to fix it all. The restoration of all things is a job for someone who can uphold the universe by the word of his power (Heb. 1:1–4). The restoration of all things is a job for the one who can destroy all evil at the end of time with the breath of his mouth (2 Thess. 2:8). The restoration of all things is a job for someone who created all things from nothing (Gen. 1:1; John 1:3; Col. 1:16).
One day, when God recreates the new heavens and the new earth, and the former things of death and daylight-savings time have passed away, we’ll have all the time we ever wanted to worship God, to fellowship with his people, and to work on meaningful projects without thorns and thistles getting stuck in our hands.
In the future, the artistic types among God’s people will have time to develop the skills to paint murals better than Michelangelo’s, and they will do so on buildings designed by architectural types who build them even better than the Sistine Chapel—and dare I say, even better than Bezalel’s tabernacle or Solomon’s temple. Perhaps the more adventurous among us will have time to explore the far reaches of our solar system. And we’ll all finally have substantive time for the crafts and hobbies we now squeeze into small pockets of our weeks. Gardens will grow without weeds, and our piano skills will improve without insecurity or envy. All while having time to fellowship with the redeemed of the Lord from across time and, of course, with the Lord himself.
The restoration of some things has begun. And for those who have tasted and seen the beauty of Christ, they will one day enjoy the restoration of all things. So, do not let the enormity of the remaining incompleteness of redemption either slow you down from loving people now or let it cause you to despair when you see all the work left undone.
Build your decks during the day; love your families and serve your neighbors; mow your yard in the summer sun. And lock your doors each night. But know that someday, when evil is no more, you’ll never need to lock them again.
Come, Lord Jesus.
* Photo by Andrew Pons on Unsplash
