A few weeks ago, I traveled to Springfield, Missouri to help my parents clean out a storage unit that was packed full of just some of my grandparents’ earthly possessions. It was a series of unfortunate events, which are not pertinent to our topic today, that led to these things landing in that storage unit. As such, there were some understandable emotions as the red metal garage door was lifted up and rolled back and these earthly possessions, albeit dusty, fragile and old, yet worn with precious memories, came into view. Even so, we got to work early in the morning and were done by lunchtime, with only a few scrapes and bruises and one almost broken neck, according to Mom.

Now that I’ve set the scene for you, let’s zoom in on two pieces. The first of which is a framed work of embroidery containing Psalm 23:1-4. Different shades of green, yellow and pink thread carefully formed these precious words – 

_¹The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 
²He makes me lie down in green pastures. 
He leads beside still waters.
³He restores my soul. 
He leads me in the paths of righteousness,
for His name’s sake. 
⁴Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me; 
Your rod and Your staff,
they comfort me.

I picked this framed piece up, looked at it, and asked my Dad, “Who did this?” He replied, “Grandma did when I was about Jordy’s age.” Jordy, my son, is 5 years old, and Dad will be 65 this year. So, I’m holding a 60-year-old framed piece of embroidery, handcrafted by my grandmother, who passed away 24 years ago. I have a few memories of her, as I was young when she passed away, so I instantly felt as though it gave me a small glimpse of how she may have spent her time with young kids running around. Perhaps she held this very piece of fabric and thoughtfully and skillfully worked the thread back and forth as a way to decompress from the day’s demands of motherhood by meditating on this Scripture. I know that if my Dad was anything like Jordy at 5 years old, she likely needed a lot of decompression. As I was holding this frame and allowing these different thoughts to pass through my mind, I asked my Dad a follow-up question that feels cold when talking about a loved one’s possessions, yet it’s just something that happens when someone passes away – “Has anyone claimed this?” His reply? “You just did.”

I was genuinely surprised by the emotion that welled up in me. Admittedly, some of this emotion was rooted in frustration that this is where all of these things formerly owned by my grandparents had landed once they were gone. After voicing that frustration, I quickly realized that this framed piece of white fabric had immediately become one of my most prized possessions. As the tears pooled in my eyes, I looked at my Dad and saw the same misty eyes on his face. We still had work to do, so I carefully set my new-found treasure to the side and got back to work.

As we continued to work through bed frames, dressers, side tables, hat racks and more, we came upon a beautiful, wooden desk chair. This chair, as I knew it, was my grandfather’s desk chair that lived in his room. His room was his sanctuary, left undisturbed when he moved into a nursing home near the end of his life. Only once he passed away almost 8 years ago did I, along with my siblings, walk into it for the first time. It felt like a warm, personal museum. It smelled like him. It felt like him. His pearl snap button down, still hanging on the bed post. The “yo quiero, Taco Bell?” chihuahua sticker still on his mirror. I snagged a handkerchief from the top dresser drawer, and I remember it smelling like him for years afterward. As we are looking at this desk chair sitting in a storage unit, again, all of these memories of my Grandpa are running through my head at a million miles an hour. I asked Dad if they had already made plans for this chair and he said, “No, let’s give it to Braylen [my husband] to use at his desk.” I responded that he would love it and that I thought it went along perfectly with the beautiful wooden desk that he had recently been given by some dear friends and church members. Dad said, “Let’s surprise him.” Again, we set it aside and moved on to finish the clean-out. 

Upon bringing the chair home, Braylen did, in fact love it, and I informed him that I’d work on restoring it as a belated Father’s Day gift. Then began the tedious work of assessing, cleaning and sanding. The chair was dirty and dusty, with loosening joints and a worn seat. I knew that it’d take some time to get it ready to re-finish. Thus began the first week of sanding work, during nap times and in between changing diapers and playing referee. This week also coincided with our church’s VBS week, during which we were walking through Psalm 23. I know, I know… horrible timing on my part to begin such a time-consuming project. 

As I sanded… and sanded… and sanded, I pondered on conversations Braylen and I had as he was preparing to guide the VBS kids through Psalm 23. One particular thought that permeated my mind was the concept of restoration. Now, I’m no furniture restoration expert, but there is one thing I do know: not every piece of furniture is worth restoring. Furniture made from medium-density fiberboard (MDF), pressboard, or finished with veneer won’t respond to the restoration process in the same way as solid wood will. MDF swells when wet, pressboard crumbles, and thin veneer can only be sanded for so long before you hit particle board. I’m not saying that pieces of furniture made from these materials are inherently bad. Believe me, I can appreciate a good IKEA dresser just like the next person. In fact, we have one in our bedroom. I only mean that they’re just not made for generations of restoration. On the flip side, furniture made from solid wood can be sanded and repaired. Loose joints can be re-glued, and dents can be steamed out. Varnish, stain, or paint can be stripped off without damaging the wood underneath. Even if the solid wood is damaged, it is not a ruined piece of furniture. It means it is in need of restoration. According to Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, the definition of the word “restore” is “return or give back”. Restoration implies something precious enough to repair rather than replace. It assumes there is something real underneath.

God fashioned us with immeasurable value because we bear His image. Sin mars us, but it doesn’t erase the craftsmanship of the Creator. The Good Shepherd doesn’t discard His sheep when they become weary or wounded. He restores them.

Restoration doesn’t only apply to things like furniture. Sometimes, as the Psalmist says, we need our very soul to be restored. A life that is in need of this type of restoration won’t find it in self-care, a trip to the beach or mountains, or even in a good night’s sleep. The soul restoration we need can only be found in Christ, the Good Shepherd. God fashioned us with immeasurable value because we bear His image. Sin mars us, but it doesn’t erase the craftsmanship of the Creator. The Good Shepherd doesn’t discard His sheep when they become weary or wounded. He restores them. He works to make me lie down in green pastures and to lead me beside still waters. Then, He restores my soul. My soul is in constant, desperate need of Christ, but praise God, He completed a work that I never could through His death on the cross, which grants me the ability to rest and be restored. I’m not discarded when I feel used up, beat up, and worn out by life, motherhood, and ministry. The Good Shepherd patiently restores His sheep. A painted piece of MDF may resemble solid oak for a season, but eventually its true nature is revealed. Likewise, the restoration Psalm 23 promises isn’t merely a cosmetic improvement applied to anyone who is tired. It is the Shepherd’s work upon His own sheep. Like the tedious process of restoring a piece of furniture, it can often feel like our own restoration process is slower than we would like it to be, but we must remember that this process is not to be rushed. 

In motherhood, we don’t expect our children to become mature overnight. In fact, we beg God to allow the time to pass slower when it feels like they’re growing up too fast. Even still, growth happens, little by little.

In piano lessons, a student isn’t going to master a piece overnight. It takes consistent and intentional practice over an extended period of time to truly master a piece and for the student to feel confident in what they’re playing.

In ministry, the people we are ministering to often come with years of wear that can’t be worked through in one conversation. It takes time spent in Biblical fellowship and building a relationship with them for the Lord to use those doing the ministering to speak life into those being ministered to.

The process of restoring this chair, while not finished, is reminding me of the work that the Spirit does in our lives through sanctification. The cleaning process can reveal dirt and grime that wasn’t visible on the chair at first glance. The sanding process can reveal stains that were covered by paint or varnish. As the Spirit moves and works in my life to make me more like Jesus, there is dirt and grime to be cleaned off. There are dents and stains that require attention. Even after all the sanding and refinishing, this chair will still have tiny dents and marks that tell its story.

Restoration doesn’t erase history; it redeems it. The same is true for my soul, my story. He restores my soul. Not by making me someone else. Not by pretending the wear never happened. But by patiently renewing what He lovingly created. But remember, something that wasn’t built to endure, can’t be restored. To be able to experience this soul restoration that the Good Shepherd brings, one must actually be one of His sheep. As the kids at VBS were encouraged to ask themselves, is He your Good Shepherd? Does He know you? Only then can He restore your soul.

The beauty that the Lord has illuminated to me recently in Psalm 23 is that the Shepherd restores those who are worn, wandering, and weary—not because they’ve held themselves together well, but because they belong to Him. And thanks be to the Good Shepherd who says through Paul in his letter to the Philippians, He will begin this work, but He won’t abandon the work. He will be faithful to patiently, compassionately, and skillfully complete it. Redeem it. Restore it, completely.