Construction Zone
From my back deck, I can watch a church being built.
Heavy equipment digs and scrapes and moves earth from here to there. Crews have been at work for several weeks now, and for a while it seemed that all they did was fight the rocks that lurk just beneath the surface of this Shenandoah Valley soil. Hammer, stop, move; hammer, stop, move; over and over.
I wondered if the operators bounced in their seats as they drove home, like pioneers on their wagons.
Mr. Pettit and I have lived on this unlined country road for almost 14 years now, and we’ve seen plenty of changes. Nine houses have popped up around us, and the corn field down the road has been replaced by a solar farm.
The name of my first novel, Chrysalis, dropped into my head as I walked past that field one day, the sheaves murmuring in the summer wind. The solar panels only stare up at the sky—no chattering, no growth, only gaping maws thirsting for sunlight.
The church is the latest addition. The sign announcing its arrival had been erected in the field months ago, but a sign is no guarantee. I’ve seen the lettering of “Opening Soon” and “New Home of…” fade to illegibility so many times that I wait for construction to start before I allow my curiosity to kick in.
The congregation held a groundbreaking service before work began. I’m certain the members and staff are excited about their new church home, envisioning the celebrations to be held there, the possibilities for service, and the expansion of current ministries.
I wish them well.
When I opened up my laptop to start this column today, I closed my eyes and admitted I didn’t have a single idea to share. Prayer has become my denial-free space. When I talk with my omniscient Maker, I’m forced to acknowledge the truth. Fear, failure, powerlessness, cluelessness, generalized empty headedness—all are illuminated in His Presence.
When my prayer ended, I looked out the window and stared at the giant yellow beasts crawling across the field.
Oh.
Jesus reminded me of the construction project going on in my brain. Road construction, specifically.
Over the past few years, I’ve seen a number of references to neuroplasticity in books and articles. I’m no doctor, so permit me to share a definition from the Cleveland Clinic’s website. (For more information, see the link below. *)
Neuroplasticity refers to your brain’s ability to absorb information and evolve to manage new challenges. It’s a natural gift that allows you to develop as a person and take on the ever-changing tasks of daily life.
Common sense, right? Whether you’re learning to drive a car or speak a new language, your brain is processing and storing information. But hold on. Things are about to become—I’m sorry, but I have to say it—mind-blowing.
Neuroplasticity actually brings physical changes inside your cranium. In essence, your brain undergoes a sort of rewiring while learning from your experiences.
“Morphological alterations and structural changes occur within our brains,” says Dr. (Grace) Tworek. “New synaptic connections form between the billions of neurons in your brain as you take in information. It’s a constant process.”
That means that when I learned the lyrics and accompanying hand motions to “Y.M.C.A.” by the Village People about a thousand years ago, my brain actually looked a little different afterward.
Fascinating, or scary?
Last year, I read Get Out of Your Head: Stopping the Spiral of Toxic Thoughts by Jennie Allen. She talks about how some of those neural pathways are “shallow and moldable” while others are “grooves dug deep from a lifetime of toxic thoughts.” She adds that neither type is beyond God’s power to heal. **
I’ve struggled with doubts and fears since childhood. I memorized Psalm 23 because Daddy said it would help me feel better. It did, and it does.
But the intrusive thoughts have remained true to their nature, pushing their way back into my mind periodically over the years. When they returned this spring, a simple command came to me in the middle of the night: “Make new roads.”
I knew immediately that this was not my mission to complete. Only Jesus could make it happen.
A movie began to play in my head in the following days. Jesus directing angels to break up the roads I’d followed for years, roads that led only to dark places. Jesus overseeing powerful machines as they scraped and leveled and paved new streets, pathways that lead to peace.
As I prayed, I pictured Jesus wearing a hard hat and driving a pickup truck, stopping now and then to show me the progress He had made. Yes, He was gracious enough to allow me to ride along.
Of course, God Almighty could repair me completely in between heartbeats, but I sense He wants me to be engaged and fully aware of what He is doing.
Work is ongoing. Sometimes I catch myself trying to put some of those chunks of old asphalt back into place, but when I do, I’m reminded of the Lord’s initial instruction: “Make new roads.” I hop into the pickup and report to my Supervisor.
Construction is His specialty.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. 2 Corinthians 5:17 (ESV)
Site of the Battle of New Market, New Market, Virginia
*Cleveland Clinic and Grace Tworek, PsyD, ”Brainwork: The Power of Neuroplasticity,” https://health.clevelandclinic.org/neuroplasticity
**Jennie Allen, Get Out of Your Head: Stopping the Spiral of Toxic Thoughts (Colorado Springs: Waterbrook, 2020), 34
