Somewhere Beneath the Scars

One of my favorite hobbies is refinishing old furniture.  I look for solid wood pieces that have been sturdily constructed and have lasted the test of time despite misuse by former owners.  It isn't hard to find them.  On occasion, I've picked up a piece discarded at the curbside awaiting the arrival of the trash truck.  Sometimes I find them at second-hand or consignment stores.  The Salvation Army Store near my home is a particularly lucrative place for my searches.  They were having a sale there once and by purchasing one desk for my son's and daughter-in-love's home at the bargain price of $25.00 (a solid wood desk, I might add), the store manager threw in my pick of a second desk for free.  Then, he sold me a third one, a student desk perfect for my grandson Austin, for a whopping $5.00.  I will admit that the student desk is a metal one, but perfect for a 9-year-old boy who has little appreciation for wood grain or dovetailed drawers.  I have refinished a number of sturdy wooden classroom chairs-- the kind that used to sit behind my teacher's desk when I was in elementary school-- and they stand proudly and serve us well here in our own home.  There is a certain "something" that I experience... a feeling that I cannot completely describe... when I'm able to rescue a piece of furniture that has been cast aside as worthless by the world and restore it to a piece that people often offer me hefty payment for the privilege of purchasing.

A year ago I determined it would be a good thing to give our choir practice room at the church a face lift.  I engaged some help from a couple of our loyal members and set about painting it a brighter, fresher shade of color.  (In my opinion, beige is NOT a color.)  In a day's time, the room was reborn.  Today, it sports two-tone walls of lovely hues in the gray-blue family and all new artwork that makes it a joyful place in which to practice singing praises to the Lord who created color and beauty.  Sitting in that room was a small wooden desk with turned legs and a single drawer.  It had obviously been placed there a very long time ago and had been battered and mistreated for decades.  The finish was marred, scratched, water-marked, and stained by markers and crayons.  However, as I checked it out I was tickled to find that the original craftsman had certainly known his stuff.  The joints were a little loose and the piece didn't look majestic by any stretch of the imagination, but I decided to bring it home and embark on a journey to find the beauty hidden below years of use and abuse.  I worked on sanding that desk for three weeks; most of the sanding had to be done by hand due to the intricacies of the turned legs and some carving along the back and drawer front.  Once down to bare wood... a painstaking process and countless hours of work later... I chose a deep cherry stain and began the application of what was to be multiple coats of it.  When that first coat had dried, I referenced the manufacturer's directions on the can and discovered instructions to lightly sand the surface with a 220-grit sandpaper.  I really didn't feel good about those directions, though, and actually wanted to run some very fine steel wool over the piece to prepare it for the second coat.  It was already looking amazingly majestic, and I simply couldn't imagine that taking sand paper to it would be a good thing to do.  Nonetheless, those were the instructions, so I ignored my "inner voice" and set about following them.  With the first swipe of the sandpaper, I was shocked to see the appearance of ugly scratches across the surface and was certainly inclined to stop immediately and re-assess this step, but I felt sure the manufacturer must have known his product well and proceeded in spite of my better judgment.  Within a very few minutes, I was gazing at the most horrifying sight I could imagine.  The scratches and damage to the surface of the piece were sickening.  All the hours of painstaking work I had done to renew this little desk seemed to vanish before my eyes, and tears spilled down my face like one of the North Carolina waterfalls gracing the sides of the Blue Ridge Parkway.  I retreated into the house and wept bitterly at the damage I had done.  When my husband came home that night, he took careful assessment of the piece and declared that the only solution he could see was to start over, sand it back to bare wood once again, and "take it from the top."  It took me well over a week to muster up the inner strength to do it, but I returned to that little desk and began once again, apologizing to it all the while for the added pain and discomfort I was creating as a result of my choices not to listen to my heart along the way.  (Yes, I often talk to my little projects.  I know the sanding and stripping must be painful for them... they surely don't do my fingers a whole lot of good.)  In the days that followed, I once again revealed the bare wood, applied three coats of stain-- opting to use the steel wool between coats this time-- and finished up with two coats of clear polyurethane varnish that most certainly put "the cherry on top" of the project.  Then, I ordered a custom-cut piece of glass to protect the top and returned the desk to the practice room at church.  Everyone was amazed at its beauty saying, "Whoever would have guessed that ugly, beat-up little desk had such beauty in it somewhere?!"  And so it must be with the human life.

Our society frequently casts aside one of its members who has been beaten and scarred by the trials of this life.  They are thought of as ugly and useless in our fast-paced world that simply doesn't have the time or the desire to look below the surface.  Then God enters the picture.  He sees the beauty of that life as it once was, created by His skillful hands.  Painstakingly, the Lord begins the process of stripping away years of misuse and abuse.  Then He carefully starts applying forgiveness, cleansing, and empowerment... layer by layer.  Occasionally, the world steps in to tell us that we should sand the person down between coats to make sure they've really "taken the stain" and prepare them for the next application.  In truth, all we need to do is encourage and apply a gentle, loving touch in helping them ready their lives for God's next coating.  As I sat weeping in my living room over the damage I'd done to that little desk, I could not help but wonder if I might be experiencing even the smallest taste of the heartache I cause to my Lord when I revert to heavy-handed tactics with others or even with myself.  Surely the scratches and gouges I leave behind must break His heart in light of the love He has used to reclaim a life.  How fortunate we are that our Master Carpenter is always faithful to begin the process anew and persist until the restoration is complete.

When I am tempted to be critical or harsh with someone, I often see the image of that beautiful little desk standing proudly in our choir room... and I am reminded that there was a day when I carried the gouges, stains, and ugly marks of my past life.  Through years of careful, patient work my Lord has restored my life and given me a rich new finish.  I am able to stand strongly in the knowledge that I am the mastery of His hands, formed in His image, and finished to accomplish more than I ever dreamed of for His glory.  At those times when my patience with another wears thin, I ask myself, "Do I really want to be held responsible for marring all the work the Lord has done in this person's life?"  

Many people have admired the little cherry desk that holds a prominent place in our choir room.  Now, instead of the ugly old relic that was once a dumping place for miscellaneous papers, used styrofoam cups, and an assortment of other refuse, it is treated with the dignity and respect it deserves.  How privileged I am to have been a part of the process of that reclamation from the trash heap to the treasured.

"It is in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, He had His eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose He is working out in everything and everyone."
(Ephesians 1:11 MSG)