Posted April 2, 2024 (Updated Nov. 1, 2026)
We recently took my daughter to her first concert. When the headliner, Tobymac, took the stage, he performed a few high-energy songs before slowing things down to introduce “Cornerstone,” a song inspired by the death of his 21-year-old son. He spoke of struggling with the immense loss but also shared what he said to his family: They must rebuild—not on the world or the church but on God, the Cornerstone.
I’ve been replaying the story and song in my head, thinking about the image of rebuilding and how we all rebuild in different ways at different times in our lives. And none of it is easy.
We may experience a loss or trauma that we didn’t ask for, something that shakes us so deeply that the walls around us crumble. We have to learn not only how to rebuild, but also find the strength to want to. When others share their rebuilding process, it offers us hope.
The gift he gave his audience that night wasn’t just a good show and a powerful story in the moment; he offered spiritual food we could store away for our next winter when we might find ourselves needing to rebuild.
It’s fitting that this concept of rebuilding coincides with the Lenten season, an important preparation time for Easter. Those 40 days allow us to reflect on how we want our lives to look and how God is present in them. It can be a time of intentional rebuilding when we reflect on where we are in our faith, relationships, health, careers, and purpose.
My Lenten season felt extended this year because I was also on a 90-day creative journey reading The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. That’s the beauty of rebuilding—we can do it at any time and need not wait.
For me, the past year has been about rebuilding my life to better align with my values, passions, and purpose–a life centered on inclusive faith, family, writing, and service. But what I’ve marveled at is how no blueprint exists. I have only my faith and the lantern in my hand to light where I stand. Remarkably, with each unknown step I’ve taken, my foot has landed on solid ground.
I was reminded of this on Easter morning. After opening Easter baskets and spending time with my family, I stepped out for a walk with our dog. I looked down at the beautiful mixture of sun and shadows on the road and noticed that the trail of pine needles I was walking on wore out every couple of feet to reveal a patch of gray gravel. It gave the illusion of stepping stones that I’d never noticed before, despite my frequent walks along this road. The path seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
I’m always amazed at how life gifts us the people, experiences, and tools we need–either in the moment or beforehand, for safekeeping. Much of my rebuilding has simply been about trusting there will be a way forward, even if I can’t see the path yet.
Have you had to rethink your identity? What was that like?
If you’re rebuilding your life, what’s been the hardest part?
Who can you reach out to for support as you take your next step?