digging post holes…this isn’t the part I expected to miss
breaking down rocks with the metal bar, clawing out loose gravel with your bare hands, measuring to find there are always a few more inches to go
sweat dripping off your face, mingling with the coal and clay and rock (always rock, always rock…) as your neck acquires that particular shade of Kentucky red and your arms grow sore (they’re growing strong)
there is nothing glamorous about this work, and some would say “leave it to the men, their shoulders are broader their backs are stronger they’re better suited to this sort of labor”
but the discipline bred a fierceness in the women (and men) of our crew
strength, confidence, determination
a willingness to dig deep, to break down and remove the biggest rocks, to fight frost and rain and mud and snow
knowing that the strength of the foundation matters
if we want the ramp to last
if we want the church to last
the strength of the foundation matters
the discipline of study breeds both a fierceness and a tenderness in women (and men)
strength, confidence, tenacity
a willingness to dig deep, to confront and work past the obstacles in our hearts, to fight resignation and fear and sloth and busyness
there is nothing immediately glamorous or instantly rewarding about this work
and some would say “leave it to the men, their minds are sharper their backs are stronger they’re better suited to lead”
but you dig in, sitting for hours at a time, uniting your heart with theologians and missiologists and Jesus (always Jesus, always Jesus…) as your tan fades to a fluorescent glow and your mind is stretched by a constant string of hurdles (it’s growing strong)
breaking down sacred texts systematically and inductively, shaking loose the accumulated debris of history, checking your syllabus to find there are always a few more chapters to go
this is faith seeking understanding