Truth in the Beams

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” Psalm 127:1

The restored space, ready for a new season of family and memories.

When we decided to restore our bathroom, we knew it would be messy.

Walls would come down. Floors would be pulled up. Old things would be exposed. The space would be unusable for a while. Everything would feel inconvenient before it felt beautiful again.

What we didn’t expect was how meaningful the in-between would become.

 The in-between. Loud, dusty, inconvenient, and necessary.

For twenty-three years, this bathroom held the everyday rhythms of our family. Little boys. Baseball uniforms. Muddy shoes. Toothpaste on the mirror. Late nights and early mornings. It was never fancy, but it was faithful.

Now those boys are grown.

Life looks different. Quieter in some ways, fuller in others. Grandkids, guests, and a growing family now move through our home, and it felt like the right time to restore this space. Not to erase what it had held, but to prepare it for what it will hold next.

As the walls were opened and the framing was exposed, we did something simple and intentional. We wrote Scripture on the beams. Verses. Names. Dates. Not for display. Not for anyone else to see. But as a way of placing God’s truth into the structure of our home before the walls were closed.

A blessing of wisdom and understanding placed into the structure of our home.

Words of forgiveness and renewal written into the foundation.

Then the drywall went up. The tile was laid. The fixtures were installed. The dust settled. The mess disappeared. The beauty returned.

The mess is gone, but the foundation remains.

But the truth remains.

Hidden, yet foundational.

No one who walks into that bathroom will ever see those verses. But they are there, just like God’s Word is meant to be in our lives. Not always visible. Not always noticed. But steady, shaping, and holding everything together.

That reminder brings me back to this truth.

Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.

We can restore walls and floors and fixtures. We can design spaces and make them functional and beautiful again. But only God can build what truly lasts.

Our verses are in our hearts and minds just like they are in the beams. Not for display, but for foundation. Hidden in a way that shapes how we live, what we build, and what we pass on.

So we trust God with both the restoring and the building of our lives, our family, and our future, while He also gently restores our past.

“I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten.” Joel 2:25

And that feels like exactly the right foundation.

Not just for a room.

But for a family.

A Letter to God

Before you close this page, I want to invite you into something I practice often.

I like to write letters to God. Writing slows me down and helps me name what is really in my heart. It creates space to notice what I am carrying, what I am hoping for, and where I am trusting God to work.

Take a quiet moment and write your own letter to God. It does not need to be long or polished. It only needs to be honest.

You might begin with:

Dear God,

What part of my life feels like it is being restored right now?

Available on Amazon

What feels unfinished or still in process?

Where do I need to trust You to build what I cannot build on my own?

What truth from Your Word do I need to hold onto in this season?

Let this be a simple, sacred pause between you and God.

God, thank You for being the One who builds what truly lasts. Thank You for restoring what has been worn down, healing what has been broken, and renewing what has grown tired. I trust You with the restoring and the building of my life, my family, and my future. Help me stay anchored in Your truth and rooted on the foundation only You can provide. Amen.