"And I am certain that the God who began a good work in you will continue His word until it is finally finished on the day Christ Jesus returns." (Philippians 1:6 NLT)
The last thing I read before I fell asleep last night was this detailed little book about La Sagrada Familia. If you are unfamiliar, La Sagrada Familia is a basilica being build in Barcelona. It is the largest unfinished Catholic Church in the world. The sanctuary was first proposed in a church newsletter in 1874. Work was begun in 1882, but the first architect, Francisco del Villar resigned within the year due to financial restraints. Through a surprising turn of events, a young architectural apprentice, Antoni Gaudi, was commissioned. Gaudi accepted the assignment, knowing full well that the work would outlive him. He believed a church as grand as he planned would and should require a couple hundred years to complete. With this in mind, he left detailed drawings and instructions to serve the next generation as they brought his vision to fruition.
Honestly, the intricacy of La Sagrada Familia is dizzying. From the book it feels a wedding cake with too many themes and layers; it’s a lot to visually digest. I wish I could see it in person, I’d love to walk the rooms and courtyards and a get a lay of the land. Perhaps, then, I could better appreciate the details of the book. (Israel was like that; formidable in the guidebook until I set foot. Our tour grounded the information in reality yet captivated my imagination forever.)
One of the challenges in properly appreciating La Sagrada Familia is the fact that it’s still under construction. Recent pictures reveal cranes and scaffolding interwoven with the spires, with staging zones situated at its base. This church has been a work site for 141 years. (They are hoping to finish by 2026 – the centennial anniversary of Gaudi’s death.) For the untrained eye, it’s tough to tell what is intentional and what is simply transitional in nature. Additionally, the design is so modern, so unlike the sanctuaries of my childhood, that as a viewer, I’m intrigued and unnerved. “What is happening here? What might the final outcome include?”
This morning I am considering the commonalities between La Sagrada Familia and my own under-construction tabernacle. The Master Artisan is committed, experienced and, thankfully, undeterred by a lack of time or funds. We can deeply appreciate His other works. But our personal project – though well under way – feels to be taking far too long. We aren’t sure about the arches or beams. The scaffolding is unsightly and the whole of it feels far too complicated. We forget, the construction has not concluded. The Architect has not yet achieved His plans. We, too, are still in process.
We may think we would prefer a simpler sanctuary, but He is building something spectacular from our frame, personality and experience. When He is through, it will be magnificent and far more than that, He’ll get the glory!
Oddly enough, this all ties to my yearly Bible reading. I’m still making my way through Jeremiah. Today’s text included a prophecy against Babylon. It was likely hard to believe for the original audience because Babylon was the very empire God used to judge the Israelites for their lack of loyalty. The Jewish people would sit in exile in Bablyon’s borders for a full seventy years before they were allowed to return to their nation. But when they did, it would be Babylon’s turn to pay the price for forsaking God.
"for the Lord will fulfill all His plans against Babylon. You are a city by a great river, a great center of commerce, but your end has come.the thread of your life is cut." (Jeremiah 51:12-13 NLT)
Babylon fell in 539 BC. It was probably impossible for the exiles to imagine, but today we know it as fact. This serves as proof positive that God’s plans come to fruition. It may take decades or even centuries, but His will happens. If this is true of destruction, it is equally true of construction. If He wills it, He will build it.
In the meantime, we cooperate. We let Him have complete access to every corner of our tabernacle: even if He’s exchanging beams and adding corbels. We hold our tongues when He knocks down the walls we’re most fond of and we comply when He sweeps out crevices we’d rather keep in the dark. We trust the Architect’s proven genius enough to give Him full artistic license. We get out of our own way as we watch Him work to bring beauty out of ashes.
“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”
CS Lewis, Mere Christianity
"Have the people of Israel build Me a holy sanctuary so I can live among them. You must build this Tabernacle and all its furnishings exactly according to the pattern I will show you." (Exodus 25:8-9 NLT)
Lord, forgive us for our fight against Your perfect plans. Today we realize they are unfinished. Also, the tabernacle You are requiring is not for our good pleasure; far more importantly, it is for Yours This work is well-under way, yet we have years to go. Help us adopt a cooperative spirit, even when construction is inconvenient, uncomfortable and unsightly. The tabernacle You are building is worth the chaos we are experienced. We surrender our plans and preferences. We submit to Your process. Amen.