We need more builders

building

What happens when you build something with a young child? You stack the blocks as high as you can, and they can’t wait to swipe their little hand and knock it down. And then you start the process again.

We seem to have an affinity for building and destroying. And as we outgrow childhood, we tend to go in one direction or the other. We become more of a builder, or we turn into more of a destroyer at heart.

Some of us make our lives’ work about building things – families, neighborhoods, faith communities, nations, relationships, systems that promote justice. Others put a lot of their energy into tearing down people and tearing apart whatever doesn’t suit them.

We become a builder or a destroyer

It seems we’re at a moment in time when the destroyers have louder voices in our world. They’ve taken to their podiums, pulpits and bullhorns to spread division, mistrust, fear and anger – the main tools for destruction from within.

They’re not trying to improve anything. They’re marauders who create chaos that gives them the cover to plunder. They want to knock everything down and rule over the rubble. They get their thrills from toppling what others have built, but have no interest in building something of their own.

One of the destroyers’ biggest cheerleaders is Steve Bannon. He’s been outspoken about his intention to unleash destruction. As he put it during an interview with The Daily Beast in 2013, he wants “to bring everything crashing down.” He’s even trying to topple his own political party and the White House he helped assemble.

It’s conflict, chaos and destruction 24/7, and a lot of people are cheering the damage. That’s what destroyers do – they attack nonstop. They’re temperamentally incapable of anything else.

Destroyers lack the patience, persistence and open-mindedness that’s required to build anything of value. Their egos leave no room for the compromise that is required to create. They have no interest in doing the hard work required to improve upon what exists.

We’ve seen this so clearly in the health care debate. Many people want to level the health care system. They have no interest in doing the challenging work of studying many alternatives, building a consensus over time, and enacting a plan that would benefit the most people.

Instead, they throw out half-formed ideas and try to get something – anything – passed into law as quickly as they can so that they are free to move on and wipe away something else. They ignore warnings that the way they’re going about it will hurt a lot of people.

That’s not how you build a stable society.

Martin Luther King, Jr., was a builder. He sacrificed for his dream of a nation that lives up to its founding ideal and treats everyone as created equal. He rejected calls for violence and hatred. He helped to build a coalition that overcame racial, political, social, religious and ideological differences and moved society forward.

That’s what builders do.

An assassin thought he could destroy the dream with a bullet, but he was mistaken. Builders continue bending the moral arc and improving the world a little more each day, even as destroyers seek to topple the gains and make everyone start from scratch.

That’s what builders do

MLK drew inspiration from a rabbi who also was known for building. Jesus worked to build the kingdom of God, a place where the hungry are fed, the sick are healed, and everyone is treated as an equally beloved child of God. Religious and political leaders thought they could destroy him and his kingdom, bury them in a tomb and be done with them. They were wrong.

The building goes on. And each of us needs to be part of the never-ending construction project.

The only requirements: commitment and persistence. And love, a lot of love. Every word, every interaction with another person must build up with love.

Builders also need resolve that they’ll avoid getting sucked into the acrimony that destroy people and movements from within. We can’t play into the marauders’ hands. It’s difficult to resist getting pulled into their drama, but we must.

The destroyers have found their voices and their followers. It feels like our society is tottering. We need more of those other voices now to stabilize us. We’ve been through times like this in our history, and we know how it works. We can always build and rebuild.

We need more builders. Someone like you.

Wait a while

Hose

One of my favorite summer activities as a youngster was setting up for our church festival. We lived down the street from our Catholic church – Our Lady of Lourdes — and got paid to do the grunt work.

The pastor was a kind man known as Father John. He’d directed many festivals and knew the process. He was wise about many things, including the importance of patience.

He was always slowing down us youngsters.

For instance, we wanted to drag the tables and chairs out of the creepy, cobweb-filled church basement and set them up in the food court as fast possible, checking that nasty job off our to-do list. Father John knew better.

He’d tell us: “Wait a while.”

As we toted the dirty tables from the church basement, he’d have us unfold them and set them on their sides. He’d get a hose and spray them clean, reminding us that nobody wants to sit at a dirty table.

He’d also spray us a time or two, which was part of the fun on a hot June afternoon.

Only when the tables and chairs were clean and dry were they ready to be moved to their proper place. Father John was right about this, of course. He knew that in our rush to move onto the next thing, we’d be creating problems down the line.

Just slow down. Do what needs to be done now, and do it well – even if you end up wet and dirty in the process.

Wait a while.

No fast-forward button

That three-word expression has stuck in my head all these years. It’s taught me not only about setting up chairs and tables for an event, but also about getting through many difficult challenges in life.

Sometimes, you just have to wait a while.

I’ve had so many times when I wished I could hit a fast-forward button. I’d think about something exciting that’s just over the horizon – summer vacation, graduation, a new job, a fun trip, starting a family – and I’d spend a lot of time daydreaming about it and looking forward to it.

And in the process of fixating on days to come, I’d miss all the good stuff in the current one.

I think that fast-forward feeling is particularly true for all of us in the tough times. We lose a parent or a spouse or a child, and we wish the pain would go away instead of scraping our insides day after day. We lose a job or a relationship or a role, and we want to move onto the next thing right away.

Something happens that bruises our self-confidence or our self-worth, and we wish the wound would heal overnight.

Grieving and healing work in their own time, in their own way, for each of us. It’s no fun being in those moments, but the only way to grow through them is to accept them while without slipping into despair.

Yes, this moment really sucks. But it’s not the end. Be a little patient.

Wait a while.

Many faith communities recently observed a wait-a-while day, the one between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. It recalls the day after a group of followers saw their leader publicly humiliated and executed as an insurgent.

Their response? They ran and hid behind locked doors. They felt totally crushed. Their lives had just crashed and burned — or so it seemed. All their aspirations of transforming the world with their message of love-one-another felt so foolish.

It’s time to get real, give up and move on. Go back to fishing or doing whatever.

But wait a while. The story isn’t finished. You’ll see, soon enough.

The story isn’t finished

None of our stories is ever finished. The author of life never gives up on life, or on the love that infuses all of it and each of us. We go through many times when it feels as though we’ve been crushed. All our hopes and aspirations seem buried, and a big old stone has been rolled in front of the tomb.

We need to hold fast a little longer, and to listen as we do. We’ll hear the sound of the immovable stone somehow getting rolled away. Soon, the morning sunlight is peeking into the cold, dead space inside of us, infusing us with life again.

It takes time. It never happens in an instant or an hour or a day. There’s no fast-forward button to healing and growth – and it’s probably best. If there was, we’d wind up zooming past life itself.

So, hold on. Wait a while. Your story isn’t finished.

In many ways, it’s starting all over again.