I have been into repurposing a lot lately. It is even a Board on my Pinterest, so you know I am serious about it.
I have repurposed many things in my home, finding useful ways to redefine something’s original purpose, breathing life back into it and allowing it a role to play rather than being discarded.
I believe God is the original author of repurposing. And I can’t help but wonder if His original intention was not about the things, but about us.
While on vacation this summer, I walked passed this to and from the lake and cabin numerous times every single day.
At first, I did not pay much attention to it. I merely noted that it seemed to have an original purpose and oh-what-a- shame that Time Marched On and it was left behind.
Toward the end of the week, I stopped in front of it.
And I stared.
What used to be a man-made, outdoor stone barbecue has been repurposed by Nature itself.
Have you ever felt like this old barbecue?
Have you ever experienced the process of being “repurposed”?
I am going through that right now.
It is not easy.
It is painful.
It is a tug-of-war with my Ego.
And in fact, I believe that God separates us from nature and the stuff of earth by proclaiming that He not only plans to repurpose us, but to transform us to the place ins which the old is removed completely before the new abides in its place.
The last time I went through this type of transformation was when I returned to my hometown after being away at graduate school as well as living overseas.
(Yes, God has seen fit to make it clear that I am one who needs more than one transformation in a lifetime).
I remember going on a walk with a friend soon after returning, and her comment to me was,
“I do not know who you are anymore. I am not sure I want you to be a part of a soon-to-be life event for me because I feel distant from you and you just are not the same person.”
Have you ever felt that way about someone in your life?
A family member?
Transformation is difficult. It is difficult on those of us who are in the process of it, and it can also be difficult on those around us.
As I stared at this repurposed barbecue, I was able to acknowledge its past identity, to appreciate it, and to then share in the joy and the beauty of its new-found role in this world – the greenness, the growth, the impact of the rebirth on my senses, on my person, and what I could glean from all of it.
May we all celebrate the gift that it is when one of us becomes “repurposed” because it means God is not done with us yet.
from Voyage of the Dawn Treader
by C.S. Lewis
Well, anyway, I looked up and saw the very last thing I expected: a huge lion coming slowly towards me. And one queer thing was that there was no moon last night, but there was moonlight where the lion was. So it came nearer and nearer. I was terribly afraid of it. You may think that, being a dragon, I could have knocked any lion out easily enough. But it wasn’t that kind of fear. I wasn’t afraid of it eating me, I was just afraid of it – if you can understand. Well, it came close up to me and looked straight into my eyes. And I shut my eyes tight. But that wasn’t any good because it told me to follow it.”
“You mean it spoke?”
“I don’t know. Now that you mention it, I don’t think it did. But it told me all the same. And I knew I’d have to do what it told me, so I got up and followed it. And it led me a long way into the mountains. And there was always this moonlight over and round the lion wherever we went. So at last we came to the top of a mountain I’d never seen before and on the top of this mountain there was a garden – trees and fruit and everything. In the middle of it there was a well.
“I knew it was a well because you could see the water bubbling up from the bottom of it: but it was a lot bigger than most wells – like a very big, round bath with marble steps going down into it. The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. But the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don’t know if he said any words out loud or not.
“I was just going to say that I couldn’t undress because I hadn’t any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that’s what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.
“But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that’s all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I’ll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.
“Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good.
“Then the lion said – but I don’t know if it spoke – ‘You will have to let me undress you.’ I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know – if you’ve ever picked the scab off a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Edmund.
“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on – and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again. You’d think me simply phoney if I told you how I felt about my own arms. I know they’ve no muscle and are pretty mouldy compared with Caspian’s, but I was so glad to see them.
“After a bit the lion took me out and dressed me –“
“Dressed you. With his paws?”
“Well, I don’t exactly remember that bit. But he did somehow or other: in new clothes – the same I’ve got on now, as a matter of fact. And then suddenly I was back here. Which is what makes me think it must have been a dream.”
“No. It wasn’t a dream,” said Edmund.
“Well, there are the clothes, for one thing. And you have been – well, un-dragoned, for another.”
“What do you think it was, then?” asked Eustace.
“I think you’ve seen Aslan,” said Edmund.
One thought on “Repurpose.”
“Repurposed.” I like that as an image for going through a growth/change process. Maybe that’s a good way to describe the process I’m going through now. Certainly questioning lots of what has been the “norm” and trying to define a “new normal.” Thank you for your, as always, insightful thoughts!