Under Construction

This past Friday, I went to the Indianapolis temple to do an endowment session for the first time. I'd been to the temple a few times since it was dedicated but had always done other ordinances so this was my first time seeing the majority of the rooms after they'd been dedicated (the endowment is the longest ordinance we do in the temple and during it, you go through a few different rooms). During my time in the temple on Friday, I learned a powerful lesson.

This year has been an interesting one for me. I haven't had any big or new challenges, but it has been an especially challenging year. I've done a lot of reflection and evaluation of where I am in my life, and to be honest, I've come up pretty disappointed a lot of the time. I'm not talking about my marital, financial, or social state, although I definitely struggle with feeling satisfied in those areas a lot of the time. But as I've evaluated where I am spiritually, I've been disappointed in my progress. I feel like at this point in my life, I should just be better, you know? I still struggle to do the little things consistently and meaningfully - prayer, scripture study, temple worship, service. I have fallen in weaknesses that I was sure I had put behind me. I have faltered in my commitment to and faith in my Heavenly Father's plan for me.

This year, I have had a trial of my faith. I have had to evaluate not whether I know the gospel is true and that God is real, but whether I am willing to do the things that that knowledge requires. I feel like Heavenly Father has been pushing me all year to decide whether or not I am ready to completely trust Him. To really let go of my own hopes, desires, and weaknesses and submit to His will, whatever that may be. My answer to that has not been as sure as I would have hoped or expected it would be at this point in my life, and that has rocked me.

On Friday, I reflected on how the temple was not always the beautiful, holy, peaceful place that it is now. True, once dedicated the ground was sacred and from what I heard from many of the workers, was unlike any other job site they had been on. But it was still a construction site. It was messy, it was loud, and it wasn't pretty. It started with simple ground, then a foundation was built. The building was framed and walls were put up. Drywall was hung and trim was installed. The windows went from boarded-up holes to beautiful stained glass. The trim was sanded and holes were filled. Everything was primed then painted. Decorative gold leafing was applied. Light fixtures and doors were installed. Carpet and tile were laid. Furniture and decorations were placed. The process from start-to-finish took almost three years. There were a lot of mistakes that had to be corrected - areas that had to be redone. A lot of the work was not glamorous. Many people were under a lot of stress - coming up against deadlines, dealing with mistakes made by people onsite and people far away. Contracts were disputed and expectations were challenged.

As I sat in the celestial room, I kept getting flashbacks of memories in those rooms while it was being built - remembering times I'd worked on certain projects in each room, envisioning what the rooms looked like at different stages of construction, and marveling at the transformation each room had gone through to become a place of physical beauty and spiritual peace. As I looked around at the pure white carpet and walls, I remembered grey walls covered with spots of red and yellow spot putty. I remembered pieces of white trim sanded down to a splotchy brown to make them look like one solid piece of wood. I remembered concrete flooring covered in sawdust. I remembered the constant sound of saws, nail guns, and air compressors. I remembered dents in drywall, holes in wood trim, and cracks in stone baseboards. I remembered dim rooms lit only by a precariously-hung construction light. I remembered making my way from my car to the temple, trying to avoid slipping on fresh ice or thick mud. I remembered dozens of workers, covered in sawdust and dirt. I remembered my own hands, covered in red spot potty making them look bloody. I remembered days when I was the only one in a room, filling nail holes or sanding trim and feeling bored out of my mind. I remembered hours spent with my brother and other co-workers and friends, joking and teasing or discussing gospel topics related to the temple (most of the workers weren't members) or challenges of life. I remembered looking forward to the day when the temple would be dedicated but enjoying the process. I was so grateful to be a part of building something so beautiful and special. The beauty and deep peace I felt sitting in the celestial room on Friday came about only after years of difficulty and hard work from many people, not to mention the thousands of members of the church who laid the groundwork for a temple to even be possible in this area.

Sitting in the celestial room that night, I realized that my life was like that temple - I just happened to still be in the construction phase. I will not reach the perfect, holy state that I so desire to be in this lifetime. In order to get to that state, it will require many years of work. I was baptized and my ground, or life, was dedicated - I made a covenant to turn my mortal life over to the Lord in pursuit of eternal life. I have a foundation of testimony and over the years, I have built upon that foundation. But there are a lot of steps that go into making my temple beautiful. And at times, there will be setbacks. I may find a crack in my foundation that needs to be fixed - I face a trial that makes me question an aspect of my testimony. My freshly-sanded joints may separate or push together, creating uneven surfaces - my mortal weaknesses manifest themselves. My smooth drywall and trim get bumped and dented - I make mistakes or get hurt by the actions of others. But none of these things need deter me from pursuing my goal of sanctification. There will come a day when I will stand with my Heavenly Father and my Savior Jesus Christ, perfected through Christ's Atonement, and able to abide their glory. The stages of construction may not be glamorous, but they are all necessary to lead to the glorious final product.

I know that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, all of the imperfections and mistakes in my life can be erased. I know that through His Atonement, all of my weaknesses can be overcome. Through Christ's power, I can go from an ordinary patch of land to a glorious vessel of the Lord. The transformation is possible, but it takes time. There will be days when it feels like I'm not making any progress, but there will come a time after this life when I will see how important the process was in helping me reach my eternal goals.