Under normal circumstances, construction crews would have shown up with bulldozers, and the demolition project would have been finished in no time. An abandoned modern house, sitting atop land purchased for new construction, needed to be removed. But rumors about the structure circulated around Orem, Utah. Supposedly, within the walls of the home stood a 140-year-old two-room cabin. This job would require faith, patience and time rather than earth moving machinery. Layer by layer, contractors slowly peeled and chipped away at the walls. Hidden inside the 20th century walls, they found a cabin built with hand hewn logs around 1885.
Almost daily, I run across, “deconstruction,” paired with terms like “religion” or “faith.” Some days it seems as if there is a mass exit of Christians from both church and religion. We are a tired community. Many of us are disgruntled, disenchanted and disconnected with the modern houses we have built on top of ancient foundations. Religious bulldozers and excavators surround us. Ready to start over, we may be tempted to clear our faith-based landscapes of all of our perceived obstructions.
But what could lie within the modern borders of faith that is worth slowing down to save? Do we need to move earth or carefully peel and chip away at walls?
The cabin now waits in its new home in Heritage Park in Orem, Utah, undergoing preservation and restoration. Back on the construction site, one thing remains: its original foundation.
When you hear words like “deconstruction” and “reconstruction,” how do you react?
These words make me curious. I celebrate the reexamination of modern-day religion and “churched” upbringings. I have compassion for those who need to bulldoze. My heart seeks out the paint chippers and layer peelers, but I strive to understand each person’s pilgrimage.