Restoration is a term that conjures up intriguing images. When applied to a work of art, a piece of furniture, or perhaps an old car, it involves a careful process of uncovering what has become obscure, or perhaps coaxing back to the surface a reflection of craftsmanship and beauty worn with the passage of time. Sometimes, as in the case of historical structures or museums, restoration opens the way for a momentary nostalgic return to the past through a kind of historical virtual reality experience.

However, restoration might also signal a process by which we can apply to sturdy, well-worn stories and structures those recovered bits of color and meaning that allow the original beauty of the craftsmanship to begin to emerge again, perhaps in exciting and even surprising ways.

It is this later sense of the Holy Spirit as Restorer that I believe best reflects the work of the Spirit as revealed in Scripture. In this sense, the Restorer is not an entity that creates museum pieces needing to be carefully kept or historical structures in which no one really expects to live, but as One who breathes new life into people and structures that show signs of wear and the effects of weathering under harsh conditions.

It is helpful in any restoration project to understand the original design, techniques, and conditions under which the original was created. It might be useful, therefore, to frame our understanding of the work of the Spirit as Restorer against the background of what we observe about the way the Spirit worked in creation.

Genesis opens with an image of the Spirit fully involved in this process: "Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters" (Gen. 1:2 TNIV).

Using a maternal, some might even say "birthing" metaphor—and language that parallels the imagery of an eagle hovering over her nest and stirring her hatchlings to activity and life—the Scriptures not only give us a very intriguing window through which to view the process of creation, but also offer glimpses of what the process of restoration might involve.1 The picture of the Spirit hovering over the lifeless earth, awakening and stirring creation to life, is couched in relational, family imagery.

It is also worth noting that the word for Spirit used in this passage can also be translated as "wind" or "breath." This leads us to Chapter 2, where this imagery emerges again as God forms humans out of the elements of the earth and then draws closely enough to gently breathe in life—hovering over and rousing to life men and women created in God’s image.

The restoring work of the Spirit in the context of creation and birth, breath and wind, new life and new hope, continues to surface and unfold throughout the Scriptures. For a people in exile and bondage, Ezekiel is given a vision of a valley that depicted how many of them must have perceived their spiritual journeys—as a valley full of dead, lifeless, dry bones. God bids Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath, which blows in from the four winds upon lifeless fragments of people, and in a scene that rivals anything Hollywood could produce, restoration takes place as God’s family is aroused to life and hope (Ezek. 37: 1–14).

The imagery of restoration emerges again in a quiet conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus as physical and spiritual birth are compared and contrasted. Jesus explains that the new birth happens in a relational context where love is beheld and our lives are changed, as the Spirit, like the wind, blows about us, breathes life into us, and more fully rouses within us the image in which we were created (John 3).

Acts describes the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost as sounding like the coming of a mighty wind that would sweep believers out of Jerusalem and into all the world with the message of the gospel (Acts 2:2). However, it is also worth noticing that the Spirit had already arrived long before, on the Sunday of the resurrection as the disciples gathered together in fear.

Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, "Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you." And with that he breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of anyone, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven." (John 20:19–23)

The restoration that the Spirit brings may occasionally come in exciting and exhilarating gusts (generally misunderstood by onlookers), but most often it arrives in the form of God’s gentle breathing. This stirs new life and hope, not only bringing about brand new creations, but also affecting those who feel as though their bones have become dry, disconnected, and scattered throughout the valley. This restoration is not the sound of a distant wind blowing somewhere beyond reach, but the life-giving breath of a God who draws near and stirs creation to life again.

This restoration happens in the context of family and community—in the midst of images of birth and healing. It bears the message of invitation and forgiveness to others who have not yet heard; it gives confidence that God has already guaranteed what we share; and it helps us realize that if we do not share it others may never know.

According to Revelation 21:3, this restoration signals removal of the last lingering traces of the curse described in Genesis 3:14–19 so that the full image of God is neither obscured nor tarnished any longer. In this context, we can begin to participate in and anticipate the final restoration, when God’s image is fully reflected in us and throughout the rest of created reality.

"The Spirit and the bride say, ’Come!’" writes John. "And let those who hear say, ’Come!’ Let those who are thirsty come; and let all who wish take the free gift of the water of life" (Rev. 22:17).

Notes and References

1. In regard to the birthing metaphor, see Barbara E. Bowe, Biblical Foundations of Spirituality (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003), 29–30; and Eugene H. Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2005), 21–23.

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