One Man's Trash
One man's trash is another man's treasure.
Maybe you've heard that phrase before. Over the weekend I ripped out a pink cast-iron tub and pink tile to replace them in our kid's bathroom. This morning I took that tub to the local scrap yard to trade it for $14.72. While there, it felt like a candy store.
It reminded me of a recent stop our team took on a road trip in Colorado.
Chris and I were in his Jeep, leading the other cars in the caravan. As we pulled through a very small town in the middle of nowhere, something clicked in both of us. No words needed to be spoken. Chris already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. "Want to stop and check this out?!"
We had just rolled up upon an antique store-meets-scrap yard. Kevin in particular was freaked out, wondering what corner the axe murderer was going to jump out of. Jesse and Christina weren't surprised, but also weren't excited about it. Chris and I were geeked.
Everywhere we looked was treasure. The longer we stood and looked around, the more of it we found.
"What if this were turned into a desk?" one of us asked, as we were looking at a rusty old car hood. "Wouldn't this be awesome in a hobbit hole?" another said looking at an ancient coal stove. "This would be sweet to hang on the wall." was heard multiple times. Everywhere were old discarded items that were begging to be reclaimed, repurposed, or restored. It was an iconic road trip pit stop.
Honestly, it represents the heart of RP. We are a people whose hearts are lit aflame by the notion of recapturing and redeeming glory, specifically in the hearts of men, and ultimately the world.
When I am doing my own work, and start to look back over the landscape of my life, I can get a little freaked out. It can have the appearance of a scrapyard. A broken relationship there. A discarded joy over here. A forgotten experience in that corner. A scary and painful circumstance on the ground to the left. Sharp edges. Rusty metal. Faded dreams.
This seems to be true for most people when they get honest about their stories. When we step behind the neatly manicured facades we are faced with a more disruptive, but truer reality. Both are second story: personas and pain.
But there is also glory to refresh. A purity to rediscover. A fresh retooling and repurposing that can rise out of the mud and be worthy of display. First story.
The reclaimed first story will never look as it was originally intended. It will always show the wear of second story- the attack and abandonment. But if we step back, often there is more beauty to be found in the aging and wear than we might have seen at first. The masterpiece restored is suddenly of great value, and worthy of hanging on the wall. We can appreciate the intended beauty AND bless the battered, in our brothers as well as in our own selves.l
It's easier to see in others. I'm still learning it for myself.
Have you taken an honest peak at your own story lately? How have you been freaked out? How have you been inspired by your glory?
Cody Buriff, Director of Resource Initiatives
