They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations.
God repairs us and the world. God saw that the creation was good and very good, and yet evil, sin, all those things that frustrate the purposes of life and beauty and good and deep love run rampant, cling and just gum things up. God’s final purpose, God’s intent without ceasing, is to bring us into that original design. So, God repairs and renews us, and the world.
A passage has stayed in my mind since I got around to reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance during the covid pandemic. It is a story of a man and his son taking a Honda cb 350 across the country. It is a meditation of what it means to repair things, and a meditation of being yourself repaired, renewed.
Along the way, the narrator, we’ll call him Pirsig, the author, and his son roll into a town somewhere in Montana. The chain guide on the motorcycle broke and was causing problems for the transfer of power from the engine to the wheel. They looked for and found a welding shop, which was still open late in the afternoon. Pirsig enters the shop and find a tight-lipped man looking at him skeptically and asks him is he can weld the broken piece on the motorcycle. ‘Yes, but you’ll have to remove it and clean it up first. I’m not doing that for you.’ ‘Do you have any paper towels?’ ‘No.’ Pirsig proceeds to find some dry leaves, which he uses to clean the grease and dirt off the metal chain guide. He hands it to the mechanic, who without a word clamps up the piece, dons welding gear, fires his torch, and applying great heat, a little filler rod and years of accumulated practical wisdom, repairs the motorcycle part. Pirsig looks on in wonder, and beholding the finished weld- -declares ‘that is beautiful.’ Have you ever looked at all the welds around you, say all the welds that hold together the Chetzamoka or a Boeing 737? The welder looks back at him a bit skeptical, without a word. Maybe no one has witnessed to him the beauty of his work, the kind of work that repairs what is needed, and gets us back on the pilgrimage of our own repair.
And the prophet Isaiah speaks of the wondrous thing God promises to his people, and to the whole creation. It is a work God does for us, and what is more, that God calls to undertake.
They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations.
Isaiah speaks of God’s ancient promise as the people return to a ruined city of Jerusalem, a broken-down temple. Some were driven or taken far and wide, some remained to sit in despair and a hardscrabble life. Now if you’ve been to Aberdeen Washington, or Youngstown Ohio, or any number of places whose wealth was long ago funneled away to our contemporary Babylon’s, places not lifted by the tide of Amazon, Apple or Citibank, or if just taken a walk down in spiffed up Seattle or Vashon to survey the tent cities and cars parked out of the way for safe sleeping, well, you might appreciate the promise of God-the people, they, we will build up, raise up the ruins, repair, renew the devastations of generations. God asks us to share in the work of repair and renewal. It is practical work-building, planting. Visiting, feeding. Making things work well for everyday life. Making things beautiful.
Repair and renewal. Repair and renewal. Let’s not take the route of what I’ll call activist burnout church. Many a church can fritter away energy, time, attention, and money into chasing many goods. We can tug and pull like horses in harnesses all going different directions, the single load of good harvest, which would be light and yet feed many if they all pulled together, sits unbudged, and the horses half exhausted. God invites us into his work of repair and renewal. Check out the pathway project to the labyrinth. You are replacing a concrete walkway that was slick in the rain and uneven with permeable gravel that will be easier for more feet and wheels and gaits to walk along. Young people finding their way in the world, those raising young children, us older sorts wondering what else God has for them now-they, we, desire renewal, and they desire repair. They and we don’t come here to do more and be burned out. We come for renewal, to be part God’s work of repair in us. To witness what is beautiful and be able to continue our journeys.