When I stepped into the role of Interim Head of School at our local Christian school in Bismarck, North Dakota, I wasn't stepping into an unfamiliar place. I was an alumnus. I met my wife there. Our children are graduates. My mom still serves as a teacher's aide, and I have nieces and nephews who attend today. Through the years, while serving as both youth and lead pastor of our church, I served on the school board, coached soccer, and spoke in chapel whenever I had the opportunity. I love the school. It had invested in my family for generations, and when the opportunity came, I wanted to give back however I could.

I also wasn't new to building projects. The church where I served for twenty years had gone through a major construction project during my tenure. More recently, I had helped oversee the purchase and renovation of a 30,000-square-foot warehouse into a ministry center, church plant and outreach center. I understood buildings. What I didn't yet understand were the unique needs of leading a Christian school.

For more than a decade, the elementary school had used four portable classrooms to accommodate growth. The city had finally determined those temporary structures needed to go. They were an eyesore. They were unsafe. When I began conversations with the school board about coming on as Interim Head of School, plans for a permanent elementary wing had grown into what appeared to be a $4–6 million project, and spiraled into stalled construction. We needed a clear path forward.   

We started where we should all begin: on our knees. I prayed for clarity for my future and if this was the right role for me. The board prayed for wisdom and insight. The staff prayed for the future of the school. Families prayed that the school could have a bright future again.  

One of my first days on the job included a dinner with board members, staff, and friends of the school who had the resources and desire to make a difference. We could have spent the evening talking about square footage, construction costs, and blueprints. Instead, we decided to talk about students.

Every day, dozens of children moved between the portables and the main building for restrooms, water, lunch, and classes, often through snow, ice, and weeks of below-zero North Dakota temperatures. Security was a concern. For one student with physical struggles, navigating between buildings was especially difficult. Teachers in the portables felt disconnected from the rest of the staff, and morale was suffering.

We went back to the plans and asked a different question: What do our students actually need? Suddenly, this wasn't about a better building, it wasn’t even about adding eight classrooms. It was about bringing our students and teachers together. We settled on a safe, permanent, two-story structure with eight classrooms. One of those classrooms would house a library (that was currently in a storage closet). We reused resources, simplified where we could and we just focused on function. Within three months, construction restarted. Within one school year, our students moved out of the portables and into a completed $2.2 million elementary wing.

In 1 Chronicles 29:9, after David casts the vision for building the temple and invites God's people to participate, it says, “Then the people rejoiced because they had offered so willingly.” I watched something similar happen. Once people understood the need and saw the people behind the project, the extreme need of our students and staff, actual excitement began to fuel giving!  People stepped forward and wanted to participate because they could see what their generosity could build…together. 

Once the project was complete, the story became even more personal for me. As a permanent Head of School was hired, I was recruited to stay on for one year as Campus Pastor and teach Bible to our fifth graders. Two first-year teachers were carrying large classes, including students whose earliest educational years had been shaped by COVID. What an incredible privilege it was to open Scripture with them, teach them about the life of Jesus and introduce them to the heroes of the faith. Somewhere in those moments, I began not just seeing but feeling that building differently. Suddenly, $2.2 million wasn't a number anymore. It had names. It had faces. Every morning, it looked like a room full of fifth graders.

That's when I was reminded that the best thing we could have done was focus on the vision and mission. The building was never the end result. We wanted to see God work in the lives of students and the building was the tool that would allow that to happen. 

Psalm 127:1 says, “Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” Before asking, “How could we ever afford it?” perhaps we should first ask, “Who could we reach through it?”

A building project begins long before the first shovel hits the ground. It begins when our knees hit the ground, asking God to help us see the people, understand the need and catch His vision for what could be.