Who hasn't, at some stage in their lives, wanted a warehouse? Well, probably a lot haven't; but I reckon many have! Something about having a warehouse at your fingertips is exciting; the potential you find bubbling up within you.
When I got my warehouse, now called The Mosaic Workshop, we invited a whole lot of people round the first Saturday to help us make it better, because it was basically a dark dingy warehouse. We had about 40 friends and family turn up to help us out! I was pretty chuffed with this.
An experiment in creativity
My friend Tim and I had taken on this expensive little mission as an experiment to see if we could make the world a better place by getting a warehouse and trying to engage people with creativity, hospitality, and spirituality. We saw this as central to what Jesus was about, and we didn't have any better way of exploring it than by trying it out.
We didn't really know what we were doing.
So many people walked around saying 'I have always wanted to do this,' and then they would proceed to tell me all their different ideas for the space. They saw a blank slate of potential; they saw things I could not, and they wanted to see if those things could be possible.
I talked with person after person about their dreams and passions. I did not know if their ideas would be realised through this warehouse, but I was energised, and slightly overwhelmed, by their excitement.
It was sad to realise so many people wanted to do something like this. I wondered if everyone really did want a warehouse, or if they just wanted to experience what I was experiencing—the unmissable slam of rubber meeting the road as you try out a dream.
I felt like people could see my fear, mixed with excitement, mixed with madness, mixed with desperation, mixed with ecstatic joy, and they wanted to feel it too.
The litmus test of faith
Joy, the litmus test of faith, makes it into the Bible 246 times, often accompanied by persecution or hardship, anxiety or fear.
I remember the day we moved in. It had been an intense day of cleaning before we proceeded to move all of our stuff into our warehouse. It took ages!
I had to drive an hour and a half to pick up something I didn't need, then we had to create some kind of order in this massive warehouse. Turns out we didn't have a kitchen, a little something I had overlooked. Then we discovered the shower went cold after two minutes. It was not summer and warehouses are cold!
Exhausted, not knowing where anything was, wondering how we were going to pull this all together, and how we were going to pay all of our new bills, I turned off the lights and climbed into my mattress on the floor.
As I turned off my little reading light, I looked down the passage, into the large dark space where I now lived. I thought of the others living in the same space, and I wondered what they were thinking, and I felt this crazy laugh come out of me. The kind of laugh you get when you are trying something completely out of your control, when you are filled with fear, and brimming with joy.
What a great time that was!
Jared Diprose is a self-employed Artisan and co-director of the Mosaic Workshop. He has a degree in Theology, and believes that words shape worlds. He is married to Sierra. You can see some of his work at www.jareddiprose.co.nz and you can check out The Mosaic Workshop at www.mosiacworkshop.co
Jared Diprose's previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/jared-diprose.html