(Pratt Cabin – McKittrick Canyon at Guadalupe Mountains National Park on an autumn day between the Ira and Pipe Creek revivals – November 2005.)
This summer I had the opportunity to eat lunch with a restorer. The experience was heightened by the fact that we were sharing our meal on the site of one of this individual's remarkable restorations - the Hotel Paisano in Marfa, Texas! Designed by famous southwestern architect Henry Trost and built in 1930, the Paisano had been reduced through the years to stained glass, dark paneling, and shag carpet. Five years ago my lunch guest joined forces with owners Joe and Lanna Duncan, and they returned this world-class, small town jewel to its original splendor. The walls are light again. The courtyard fountain sparkles and laughs. The lobby beckons weary travelers to relax and contemplate. The ballroom stands ready to begin the beguine. From the paint to the decor; from the halls to the balconies, my restorer friend's influence is all over this historic tribute to a bygone era. I imagined Trost would be proud.
As I sat there, I realized that my lunch guest and I had a lot in common. Aside from the fact that our last name is the same, my wife Vicki Lynn and I are both caught up in the work of restoration. We both long to see creations from the past live up to their fullest potential. For example, Vicki Lynn aches to get hold of a certain classic Fred Harvey Hotel, the La Castaneda , in Las Vegas, New Mexico, before it is too late. And I ache to see the church be the church.
When Jesus saved us, we became new creations (2 Corinthians 5:17). Our old selves were leveled. Christ became our foundation, cornerstone, and architect. He began to construct our lives from the inside out as He saw fit. Perhaps His new house smell lingered over our walk for some time. Perhaps His fires of love and compassion burned in our hearths for years. But somewhere along the way, we settled in and got comfortable. God's purposes no longer became our main concern. Slight sins accumulated like veneer over mahogany. Royals rugs were replaced with the carpet of compromise. Years of indifference and neglect have left us in need of revival. But since our sanctuaries are overflowing with individuals in the same spiritual condition as us, we fail to notice our glaring need for restoration.
When a Christian is restored, they are returned to their original splendor. They are brought back to who they were intended to be. They become the kingdom uncluttered. And when the kingdom of God becomes uncluttered, the lost will begin to see the real forest of Jesus once hidden by the trees of our shoddy religion. This is what made the early church such a force to be reckoned with after three thousand individuals gave their lives to Jesus on the same morning during Pentecost. Imagine what would happen if every follower of Christ were suddenly restored to their original splendor. We would witness a world-wide revival of epic proportion!
Even though Vicki Lynn and I work in different fields of revitalization there is one truth we both fully recognize. The price of restoration is high. It costs more to restore than it does to initially build. Ironically, the high cost of redemption has not increased on Christ's part. His blood covers the price of our complete salvation both now and forevermore. Any haggling over the cost of spiritual restoration comes from us. For whatever reason, it was easier to yield our eternal life to Him when He made us new creations than it is for us to re-surrender our deteriorated Christian lives today. That truth should give us serious pause and cause us to wonder, "If we had not become Christ-followers then, would we have ever surrendered our lives to Him now? And if we won't humble ourselves to His restoration now, did we ever really permit Him to change us into a new creation back then?"