We sat around the dining room table at my parents house on Christmas morning watching my step-kids, Parker and Ryen, open their presents and build cities and fortresses out of plastic blocks we affectionately know as Legos. We laughed as my mother reminded me that I was not much of a Lego-kid growing up. Apparently I still suffer from being allergic to following directions. Panic attacks, rolling eyes, long sighs—it’s a horrible disease. Side note: I hate when people tell me what to do. Who needs a boring building when I can make a ThingaMajiggy with wheels on bottom and flowers on top? [Insert jazz hands here.]

Four hundred and fifty two pieces of a Lego Ninjago set sent this control freak into a panic. How on earth will a seven year-old have the patience to build this plastic, mechanic creature?! I peered over Parker’s shoulder and watched him diligently stack on peg of plastic into another; one, then another, then another. I sat down with him and slowly started building with him. A sticker here, a stack there, and all of a sudden I’m a LEGO MACHINE! You can’t stop me, mom! Look at me! Who needs directions now?!

That’s when it happened. The cosmic fall of humanity was pride and I took a huge bite of the apple, people! Uh Parker, that’s not the right side. I’m suppose to put a sticker on this side. Trust me. He said he was following the directions and he was doing it right. Parks, I’m looking at the box and the sticker goes HERE. See? I’m right. He said he was right. I said I was right. He said he was following the directions. I said I was looking at the picture. Then I made a bet with him and proved why I should never go to Vegas or start an Internet gambling addiction.

Snap. Stack. Turn. Voila! Parker was right and I watched with naked shame like I was in the Garden of Eden. God’s voice sounded like Parker’s, I told you that you should follow the directions.

Together we stacked, snapped, clicked, and completed our 452-piece masterpiece of plastic. I think I felt more elation completing my first Lego set then walking across my college graduation stage. [As much as I like to tell you this is playful exaggeration, it’s true.] By the end of the project, Jasmine, me, and Parker built a beauty of a piece. Team work makes the dream work, eh?

Since the building of my first Lego set, I’ve been enamored with the art of building. Stack, snap, click. Just like Nehemiah told his friends. Team work makes the dream work as we see in chapter 3 of Nehemiah. There was this massive commission of insurmountable proportions: Rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. The entire task required the action of everyone involved.

Don’t worry about the daunting project, just build the wall in front of you. Square foot by square foot, stack, snap, click. Each person listed in the annals of Nehemiah’s diary recorded the completion of the walls. And this year, there is a commission upon us. To rebuild the hope and glory of the gospel. Don’t worry about the daunting project—what it looks like, who will help, how long it will take—but focus on what’s in front of you.

Write your term paper. Rock your child to sleep. Work a full eight hours. Teach your bible study. Run your business. In all things we do this year, may we work to rebuild the hope and glory of the gospel. Another year of sharing JESUS; His love, His forgiveness, His pain, His redemption, leads to their purpose and destiny.

2012 was a good year, friends. But we ain’t done yet. Stack, snap, click. 😉

What are some highlights and low-lights of 2012? We’ve been on this journey together for some time… we are free to share the progress. 🙂

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