There is a distinct sound that lives in the bones of anyone who has spent time on a job site: the sharp, metallic clink of a steel trowel slicing through a pile of wet mortar, followed by the soft, gritty shuck as it’s spread across a concrete block.

Decades ago, when I was first learning masonry, I thought building a wall was a simple matter of strength and speed. You grab a brick, slap some mud on it, and push it into place. But my first morning on the line cured me of that notion. I was working next to an older mason named Art. Art was a quiet man who wore grease-stained overalls and moved with the slow, deliberate pace of a turtle. I, on the other hand, was twenty-two, full of coffee, and eager to prove how fast I could build.

By mid-morning, my section of the wall looked like a roller coaster. Some joints were fat and oozing; others were starved. The bricks were tilting like tombstones. Art stopped, leaned on his trowel, and looked at my mess. He didn’t yell. He just tapped one of my crooked bricks with the wooden handle of his trowel.

A wall isn’t built with speed. It’s built with diligence. One brick, then the next. And every single one has to be right.
— Art

That lesson stayed with me long after the blisters on my palms turned to calluses. It’s something I still have to remind myself of today, whether I’m sitting at a graphic designer’s desk, trying to figure out how to guide five kids through the messy business of growing up, or writing down these thoughts on Authentic.how.

The Rubble and the Wall

When we think about great feats of faith in the Bible, our minds often drift to the dramatic moments—parting the Red Sea, David facing down Goliath, or walls tumbling down. But there is another wall in Scripture that tells a much quieter, more relatable story of faith. It’s a story about the slow work of rebuilding.

In the book of Nehemiah, we find a community of returned exiles trying to rebuild the ruined walls of Jerusalem. They were surrounded by enemies, mocked by cynics, and exhausted by the sheer volume of rubble. Yet, Nehemiah records a simple, profound victory:

So we built the wall; and all the wall was joined together to its half; for the people had a mind to work.
— Nehemiah 4:6

The Hebrew phrase translated as “a mind to work” literally means their heart was in the work. They didn’t rebuild Jerusalem’s defenses with a miraculous flash of light. They did it by clearing rubble, mixing mortar, and laying one heavy stone on top of another, day after day. It was an exercise in grit-level diligence.

Later in the New Testament, the apostle Paul uses building terminology to describe how we live out our faith:

According to the grace of God which was given to me, as a wise master builder I laid a foundation, and another builds on it. But let each man be careful how he builds on it.
— 1 Corinthians 3:10

Whether we are laying clay bricks on a footrunner or building a life, a marriage, or a career, the rule of the builder remains the same: we must be careful how we build. We cannot rush the foundation.

The Physics of Mortar and Patience

If you’ve never laid brick, it’s hard to appreciate the delicate balance of mortar. Mortar is the bridge between the earth and the sky. If it’s too wet, the weight of the brick will squeeze it right out, leaving the course sagging and weak. If it’s too dry, it won’t bond, and the wall will eventually crumble under the pressure of the wind.

There is a rhythm to it that you cannot force. You scoop the mortar from the board, throw it down in a neat line—what masons call “spreading a bed”—and then use the tip of the trowel to furrow the center of the mud. This furrow creates a small valley that allows the brick to settle evenly when you press it down.

When you place the brick, you tap it gently until it aligns perfectly with the mason’s line—a string stretched tight from corner to corner. You cut off the excess mortar that squeezes out with a quick flick of the trowel, and you set it back on the pile.

It is beautiful, repetitive, and incredibly slow. If you try to rush it, if you try to lay ten courses before the bottom ones have had a chance to set and bond, the weight of the upper bricks will cause the lower mortar joints to bulge and fail. The whole structure will warp.

In our lives, we are constantly encouraged to build fast. We want career success now. We want a mature, conflict-free marriage now. We want our children to be fully formed, wise, and independent by next Tuesday. But the spiritual life, much like masonry, doesn’t honor our rush. It is built in the slow, daily application of small habits. It is the diligence of showing up, showing grace, and doing the quiet work when no one is watching.

Plumb, Level, and Square

In the trades, we rely on three words to keep us honest: plumb, level, and square. Plumb means perfectly vertical, standing straight up in relation to gravity. Level means perfectly horizontal, flat against the horizon. Square means a perfect ninety-degree angle, where two walls meet.

If your first course of brick is off by just an eighth of an inch, and you don’t correct it, that error doesn’t stay an eighth of an inch. As you build higher, the lean exaggerates. By the time you get ten feet up, that eighth of an inch has become a three-inch tilt, and the wall is at risk of falling over under its own weight.

Diligence is the act of constantly checking our work against the line. In our faith, our “line” is the character of Jesus—His humility, His love, His obedience to the Father. When we check ourselves against Him, we often find those little eighth-of-an-inch deviations. Maybe it’s a small habit of resentment, a tiny corner of dishonesty in our work, or a subtle shift from serving others to serving our own egos.

Checking the line isn’t about condemnation; it’s about correction. It’s the daily work of alignment. It’s stopping, tapping the brick back into place, and making sure we are building on a foundation that will stand.

Laying Your Own Course Today

So, how do we bring this tradesman’s diligence into the spaces where we live and work? How do we lay a good course when the day feels chaotic and the rubble around us seems overwhelming?

Here are a few small practices I’ve found helpful in keeping my hands steady and my heart focused:

• Focus on the current course. When you look at the whole wall, it’s easy to feel defeated. Don’t worry about the top of the wall today. Just focus on the brick in your hand right now. Do your work, write your email, listen to your child, or wash the dishes with your full attention.
• Keep a wet trowel. In masonry, if you let mortar dry on your tools, they become useless and heavy. In the same way, don’t let the resentments, mistakes, or failures of yesterday dry on your heart. Clean your slate daily through confession and forgiveness.
• Check the line often. Take five minutes in the morning and five minutes in the evening to sit quietly with the Lord. Read a verse of Scripture, pray a simple prayer, and ask Him to show you where your wall might be leaning.

A Mini-Challenge for the Week

This week, whenever you find yourself feeling overwhelmed by a project, a relationship, or a pile of chores, try to visualize a single brick and a trowel of mortar. Say to yourself, Just this one. Right now. Let go of the need to finish the whole structure in an afternoon. Trust that if you are diligent with the brick in your hands, the wall will take care of itself.

I don’t have it all figured out, and my lines still go crooked more often than I’d care to admit. But I’m learning to trust the Builder who started this work in us, knowing He is patient enough to see it through to the end.

Blessings.