There is evidence in this attic of previous projects. Scraps of wood, pieces of wiring and mysterious mats of insulation with no perceivable connection to anything in this building. Most telling, though, are the old rafters and wooden shingles from a previous roof and a brick chimney vent taken down to just below the level of the newer roof. There seems to have been a minimalist philosophy of sorts.

Rather than completely tear out the old, it seems that the former workers merely removed what was necessary in order to do their work. The old wooden shingles, possibly nearing a hundred years old now, are so dry and thin and dusty that it would take little more than a spark to start a fire.

It is less concern about fire and more concern about breathing that has Paul and me wearing masks as we check out the wiring. I marvel at his complete willingness to join me in this task. In addition to the inescapable odor of the fire and smoke, there is nothing that can be moved here without stirring up dust and dirt. It fills the air as we move from section to section, careful to step, kneel or crawl only on the joist edges so that we don’t break through the ceiling and create more work for ourselves. We know that our hair, clothes and skin will bear the unmistakable traces of where we have been. When we climb down a couple hours later, we will look as if we have been working in a mineshaft.

Even though we know that, we continue, knowing also that the work we are doing here is important and will make the building safer and healthier. Another carpenter long ago surveyed a work that needed doing, a work that would bring him in touch with the dirt and filth and shame of this world. A work that left redemption in its wake and evidence in his body of the price he paid.

He also sent someone else to work beside us, providing in his Holy Spirit a completely willing presence and power that enables us to perform whatever work we are given.

H. Arnett
1/13/10